storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-10-20 10:38 am
storypaint) wrote2009-10-20 10:38 am
In Your Philosophy (Clow/Yuuko)
Title: In Your Philosophy
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 953 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
31_days: 18 Oct 09 // I wrote on a wall, "I've gone ahead"; comment_fic: xxxHOLiC, Clow/Yuuko, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: PG for sexual references. My apologies to Shakespeare.
Excerpt: The wine was making her eloquent that night, and she remembered being quite pleased by her turns of phrase until he looked at her. His gaze was only a little sad, and she might not have noticed had she not known him as long as she had.
There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
He'd said it to her once, and she'd just laughed and laughed.
"How could there be more?" she asked, waving her glass. "I dream of everything. I've seen the warashi that walk the day and the spirits who walk the night, and all of those who glide through dawns and sunsets and the times between."
The wine was making her eloquent that night, and she remembered being quite pleased by her turns of phrase until he looked at her. His gaze was only a little sad, and she might not have noticed had she not known him as long as she had.
"No, my dear," he said, and his tone was cheerful, "not yet, you haven't."
He reached out and brushed her cheek and she pulled away, like she always did, but instead of letting her go, he leaned forward and left her a kiss there, gentle but damp, upon her cheekbone. They weren't drunk enough yet to be fumbling toward her bed, not drunk enough that Yuuko could tell herself it was just one of those mistakes you made with judgment lowered (one of those mistakes she made often if she would be honest).
"You say these things, and then you never explain them," she said grumpily, when he had leaned back over to his side of the couch. The moment had passed and neither of them might acknowledge it again that night, or they might return to it later. Yuuko didn't like to categorize this thing they had. It was only much later that she realized it was a part of her more subtle precognition; if she didn't admit there was something, it wouldn't be so hard to lose.
"I must have something up on you," he answered playfully, "because otherwise you would own all of me, even more than you do."
"I don't want to own you," she retorted, but she let him fill her glass and settled back against the couch, letting her bare feet brush against his as he leaned against the other armrest.
"That's a shame," he said, laughing a little with the tone he wore for his most brilliant ideas, "because I was thinking of having a certificate made. I know it irritates you when the other witches flirt with me. I could carry the page around, you see, and absolve myself of their attentions more politely that way."
"You are an idiot," she answered. Jesting or not, she wanted no certificate, no gifts (beyond sex and sake, which were more like needs than presents anyway), no binding. The centuries stretched backwards, the centuries stretched forwards, and Yuuko stretched on the couch and pressed her toes into his side. The position was awkward until she shifted on her back, and she suspected that half of the reason for his sudden grin was his ability to see up her skirt that way, but she pinched him with her toes and enjoyed his grimace.
In retaliation, he sat up and pulled her into his lap, arms snaking around her waist, and they still weren't drunk enough to blame it on the wine (not that Clow ever did, he wasn't half as stupid as Yuuko claimed, and recognized love when he was in it).
"You know what they say about Shakespeare, anyway," she said, fingernails scraping across his cheek and pulling his glasses off.
"A bit high-strung and dramatic, but he'll grow into his own?" Clow suggested. "I have to admit, the first time I saw Hamlet performed I wasn't particularly impressed."
Blinded by her spectacles theft, he stared at her with unfocused eyes until she kissed him and he shut them. Her tongue in his mouth was almost angry, but he was used to that. His touches were gentle and hers were irritated. He didn't blame her for that, which somehow made her angrier.
He hadn't told her yet that he was planning to die. But a conversation like that reverberated down one's timeline, sometimes, and she would be so furious about that one that he felt as though he deserved her rage now, in the little packets that she delivered it.
"No," she answered scornfully, because she hadn't been in England then, and didn't care, "that an infinite number of monkeys on an infinite number of typewriters could, in time, reproduce all of his work. So I can't say it's that impressive."
Clow furrowed his brow. "Those must be very bright monkeys," he said, a stupid thing calculated to raise her ire, and she reacted as he expected, by growling at him and then biting his neck. He hid the satisfied sound he wanted to make.
"I believe you're missing the point of my statement, dearest," he said breathily, but then they went on to miss the point for quite a lot longer. She woke in the morning with her head on his stomach (that sort of odd position always happened when she shared her bed with someone) and a vague memory of some sort of ridiculous philosophical discussion, but most of the memory was overwhelmed by her hangover. It shouldn't have been as bad as it was, she thought grimly, as she hadn't been that drunk when they'd finally managed to sleep.
But she did remember it, years later, when Watanuki began, "There are more things, Yuuko-san," his tone sarcastic, and she stopped him by throwing Mokona at him. As she expected, Larg proved a wonderful distraction.
But she didn't get entirely drunk that night, either, even though she woke alone, sheets tangled.
"Idiot," she mumbled into the dark, and then clutched Mokona close and slid back into sleep.
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 953 words
Prompt:
31_days: 18 Oct 09 // I wrote on a wall, "I've gone ahead"; comment_fic: xxxHOLiC, Clow/Yuuko, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: PG for sexual references. My apologies to Shakespeare.
Excerpt: The wine was making her eloquent that night, and she remembered being quite pleased by her turns of phrase until he looked at her. His gaze was only a little sad, and she might not have noticed had she not known him as long as she had.
There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
He'd said it to her once, and she'd just laughed and laughed.
"How could there be more?" she asked, waving her glass. "I dream of everything. I've seen the warashi that walk the day and the spirits who walk the night, and all of those who glide through dawns and sunsets and the times between."
The wine was making her eloquent that night, and she remembered being quite pleased by her turns of phrase until he looked at her. His gaze was only a little sad, and she might not have noticed had she not known him as long as she had.
"No, my dear," he said, and his tone was cheerful, "not yet, you haven't."
He reached out and brushed her cheek and she pulled away, like she always did, but instead of letting her go, he leaned forward and left her a kiss there, gentle but damp, upon her cheekbone. They weren't drunk enough yet to be fumbling toward her bed, not drunk enough that Yuuko could tell herself it was just one of those mistakes you made with judgment lowered (one of those mistakes she made often if she would be honest).
"You say these things, and then you never explain them," she said grumpily, when he had leaned back over to his side of the couch. The moment had passed and neither of them might acknowledge it again that night, or they might return to it later. Yuuko didn't like to categorize this thing they had. It was only much later that she realized it was a part of her more subtle precognition; if she didn't admit there was something, it wouldn't be so hard to lose.
"I must have something up on you," he answered playfully, "because otherwise you would own all of me, even more than you do."
"I don't want to own you," she retorted, but she let him fill her glass and settled back against the couch, letting her bare feet brush against his as he leaned against the other armrest.
"That's a shame," he said, laughing a little with the tone he wore for his most brilliant ideas, "because I was thinking of having a certificate made. I know it irritates you when the other witches flirt with me. I could carry the page around, you see, and absolve myself of their attentions more politely that way."
"You are an idiot," she answered. Jesting or not, she wanted no certificate, no gifts (beyond sex and sake, which were more like needs than presents anyway), no binding. The centuries stretched backwards, the centuries stretched forwards, and Yuuko stretched on the couch and pressed her toes into his side. The position was awkward until she shifted on her back, and she suspected that half of the reason for his sudden grin was his ability to see up her skirt that way, but she pinched him with her toes and enjoyed his grimace.
In retaliation, he sat up and pulled her into his lap, arms snaking around her waist, and they still weren't drunk enough to blame it on the wine (not that Clow ever did, he wasn't half as stupid as Yuuko claimed, and recognized love when he was in it).
"You know what they say about Shakespeare, anyway," she said, fingernails scraping across his cheek and pulling his glasses off.
"A bit high-strung and dramatic, but he'll grow into his own?" Clow suggested. "I have to admit, the first time I saw Hamlet performed I wasn't particularly impressed."
Blinded by her spectacles theft, he stared at her with unfocused eyes until she kissed him and he shut them. Her tongue in his mouth was almost angry, but he was used to that. His touches were gentle and hers were irritated. He didn't blame her for that, which somehow made her angrier.
He hadn't told her yet that he was planning to die. But a conversation like that reverberated down one's timeline, sometimes, and she would be so furious about that one that he felt as though he deserved her rage now, in the little packets that she delivered it.
"No," she answered scornfully, because she hadn't been in England then, and didn't care, "that an infinite number of monkeys on an infinite number of typewriters could, in time, reproduce all of his work. So I can't say it's that impressive."
Clow furrowed his brow. "Those must be very bright monkeys," he said, a stupid thing calculated to raise her ire, and she reacted as he expected, by growling at him and then biting his neck. He hid the satisfied sound he wanted to make.
"I believe you're missing the point of my statement, dearest," he said breathily, but then they went on to miss the point for quite a lot longer. She woke in the morning with her head on his stomach (that sort of odd position always happened when she shared her bed with someone) and a vague memory of some sort of ridiculous philosophical discussion, but most of the memory was overwhelmed by her hangover. It shouldn't have been as bad as it was, she thought grimly, as she hadn't been that drunk when they'd finally managed to sleep.
But she did remember it, years later, when Watanuki began, "There are more things, Yuuko-san," his tone sarcastic, and she stopped him by throwing Mokona at him. As she expected, Larg proved a wonderful distraction.
But she didn't get entirely drunk that night, either, even though she woke alone, sheets tangled.
"Idiot," she mumbled into the dark, and then clutched Mokona close and slid back into sleep.