storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2010-03-02 02:06 pm
storypaint) wrote2010-03-02 02:06 pm
[Magic Knight Rayearth] The Soft Brush of Your Hand (Clef/Presea)
Title: The Soft Brush of Your Hand
Fandom: Magic Knight Rayearth [Mafia AU]
Length: 651 words
Prompt: n/a
Pairing: Clef/Presea
So. After the events of The Sharp Edge of Your Smile, most of the stuff in the original fic by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
allira_dream happens-- and then they decide: that's enough, we're leaving this job. This takes place while they're on the run. PG-13 for sexual references... Most of it's just straight fluff and an excuse for me to talk about bella Roma.
Excerpt: They threw coins in the Trevi and Presea's eyes shone. "We will certainly come back to Rome one day," she singsonged, swinging Clef's hand in hers, and he let her have the lie.
It seemed inevitable, given Presea's love for Italian food, that they would end up in Rome eventually. Not only was it full of the contradiction of ancient next to modern, it was large and easy to lose oneself there. It was perfect for two defecting assassins to cover their tracks for a couple of weeks, and also a popular destination for the wealthy tourist couple they pretended to be.
They threw coins in the Trevi and Presea's eyes shone. "We will certainly come back to Rome one day," she singsonged, swinging Clef's hand in hers, and he let her have the lie. Rome was bright and hot and she loved to wander its narrow streets when everyone was taking an afternoon nap, popping her head into walled gardens, and on one memorable occasion, scaling a wrought-iron fence to get a closer look at a historical monument. And because Presea loved these things, Clef did too, and he was her constant if sometime reluctant companion.
She was out searching for mischief on one late summer afternoon and ended up having to make it for herself. She pushed Clef into a fountain, just a sideways nudge of her hip that he somehow didn't manage to anticipate. It was a small fountain, but even so, he was thoroughly soaked. He sat there a moment, secretly rather enjoying the cold water, before he got up and chased after her, splashing water as he came.
Soon they were both damp and laughing, and they made their way back to their hotel, amused by the looks that passersby gave them, bemused at the soaking wet Americans.
It wasn't until they had unlocked the door and she had begun to strip the damp fabric from him, her hands warm even if the rest of him wasn't, that he realized that their guns were soaked and useless at the moment. When her hand brushed his shoulder holster she paused, withdrew. Their eyes met and without another word, they separated to rescue and clean their weaponry.
Presea had always made a game out of how fast she could do this. Clef only had the one gun on him, but she had two, shoulder and thigh holster; she had them in pieces and put back together just as fast he could do his one. All three guns were set carefully on the bedside table before they finished stripping off their own clothes and climbed into bed, cuddling close. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing his head against her chest, and hummed a little, quietly, but the easy mood between them had been lost.
Really, Clef thought, they were as defenseless now as they had been on their way back to the hotel. They were losing that mindset of suspicion and caution that had let them get this far. The problem was, neither of them wanted to go back to that. It would be just as bad as if they'd never left Emeraude at all. They were already living on borrowed time.
Presea kissed the top of his head and stopped humming. He knew she was thinking the same thing.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"I'm not," he answered, and it was true. It might be borrowed time, but it had been the best few months of his life, being on the run with her.
He kissed her breast and tongued her nipple, enjoying the mewling gasp she produced in return. She ran her fingernails down his back, a light brush of skin, and they spent the rest of the afternoon in distraction, not mentioning it again.
When they took their afternoon nap, the pistols remained there on the table, just out of reach of them, tangled together on the bed, but they slept well anyway.
It was Rome and they were vacationing and happy. They needed nothing else than what they had.
Fandom: Magic Knight Rayearth [Mafia AU]
Length: 651 words
Prompt: n/a
Pairing: Clef/Presea
So. After the events of The Sharp Edge of Your Smile, most of the stuff in the original fic by
allira_dream happens-- and then they decide: that's enough, we're leaving this job. This takes place while they're on the run. PG-13 for sexual references... Most of it's just straight fluff and an excuse for me to talk about bella Roma.Excerpt: They threw coins in the Trevi and Presea's eyes shone. "We will certainly come back to Rome one day," she singsonged, swinging Clef's hand in hers, and he let her have the lie.
It seemed inevitable, given Presea's love for Italian food, that they would end up in Rome eventually. Not only was it full of the contradiction of ancient next to modern, it was large and easy to lose oneself there. It was perfect for two defecting assassins to cover their tracks for a couple of weeks, and also a popular destination for the wealthy tourist couple they pretended to be.
They threw coins in the Trevi and Presea's eyes shone. "We will certainly come back to Rome one day," she singsonged, swinging Clef's hand in hers, and he let her have the lie. Rome was bright and hot and she loved to wander its narrow streets when everyone was taking an afternoon nap, popping her head into walled gardens, and on one memorable occasion, scaling a wrought-iron fence to get a closer look at a historical monument. And because Presea loved these things, Clef did too, and he was her constant if sometime reluctant companion.
She was out searching for mischief on one late summer afternoon and ended up having to make it for herself. She pushed Clef into a fountain, just a sideways nudge of her hip that he somehow didn't manage to anticipate. It was a small fountain, but even so, he was thoroughly soaked. He sat there a moment, secretly rather enjoying the cold water, before he got up and chased after her, splashing water as he came.
Soon they were both damp and laughing, and they made their way back to their hotel, amused by the looks that passersby gave them, bemused at the soaking wet Americans.
It wasn't until they had unlocked the door and she had begun to strip the damp fabric from him, her hands warm even if the rest of him wasn't, that he realized that their guns were soaked and useless at the moment. When her hand brushed his shoulder holster she paused, withdrew. Their eyes met and without another word, they separated to rescue and clean their weaponry.
Presea had always made a game out of how fast she could do this. Clef only had the one gun on him, but she had two, shoulder and thigh holster; she had them in pieces and put back together just as fast he could do his one. All three guns were set carefully on the bedside table before they finished stripping off their own clothes and climbed into bed, cuddling close. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing his head against her chest, and hummed a little, quietly, but the easy mood between them had been lost.
Really, Clef thought, they were as defenseless now as they had been on their way back to the hotel. They were losing that mindset of suspicion and caution that had let them get this far. The problem was, neither of them wanted to go back to that. It would be just as bad as if they'd never left Emeraude at all. They were already living on borrowed time.
Presea kissed the top of his head and stopped humming. He knew she was thinking the same thing.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"I'm not," he answered, and it was true. It might be borrowed time, but it had been the best few months of his life, being on the run with her.
He kissed her breast and tongued her nipple, enjoying the mewling gasp she produced in return. She ran her fingernails down his back, a light brush of skin, and they spent the rest of the afternoon in distraction, not mentioning it again.
When they took their afternoon nap, the pistols remained there on the table, just out of reach of them, tangled together on the bed, but they slept well anyway.
It was Rome and they were vacationing and happy. They needed nothing else than what they had.