storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2011-06-01 01:51 am
storypaint) wrote2011-06-01 01:51 am
[xxxHOLiC] where light lies broken (Clow/Yuuko)
Title: where light lies broken
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 795 words
Prompt: comment_fic: xxxHolic, Clow/Yuuko, "And I have seen a thousand different versions of you in every universe ever known. In some of them, we are even happy."
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: PG for sexuality.
Excerpt: "You are always dreaming," she chided lazily. "Lazy men do nothing but dream."
"I had a dream last night," Clow said. Neither of them had spoken in a couple of hours, and Yuuko figured that he had fallen asleep. Except for necessities, neither of them had left her bed today. The light passing through the sheer bedcurtain had brightened until Yuuko had thrown the covers over her head, and Clow had gotten up for a few moments to make them tea and late breakfast. But the afternoon had passed away too, as they lay there, unmoving in the heat. Occasionally his breath tickled her ankle; he lay there at the foot like a loyal dog, and the idea had made her smirk a little. (He'd gotten up, so she'd taken the whole bed, but it was hard to ruffle Clow. He'd found a place. He always did.)
"You are always dreaming," she chided lazily. "Lazy men do nothing but dream."
Clow was not lazy, except on some days, like this one. And if it were up to him, he would have been out and about on their business at dawn, but when he'd shifted in the bed to rise, she had reached out and caught his shoulder. She had blinked at him, just once, with those glorious, glittering eyes of hers, and then pretended to sleep. So he had pretended with her for a few hours more. They set their own deadlines, after all. For every day they spent abed they'd spend another working until dawn, sipping wine like water, and nothing would be said of it.
"It was a prophetic dream," he said. She shifted, just a little in the bed, and the headboard creaked. He glanced up at her, but the twilight shadow hid her expression.
"Have you discovered some other setback we haven't provided for yet? Because, honestly..." she said, and stretched her arms toward the ceiling, flashing her generous bare breasts, "I think we may have reached the point where they'll just have to think a little for themselves. It is good for children to learn by experience, rather than rote."
"No," Clow said. "This was different." He was quiet for four full breaths before she kicked him in the ear. In deference to what they meant to each other, it wasn't very hard. He rubbed it anyway, and automatically reached to adjust the glasses that weren't there, which lay instead on her bedside table. He was nearly blind without them, for close-up purposes, but she always insisted that he take them off in bed, even if they weren't sleeping. He didn't ask what she didn't want him to see. He knew.
"Well, are you going to tell me or not?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I saw... us," he said. "I have seen a thousand different versions of you in every universe ever known. In some of them, we are even happy."
She didn't move for a long moment. "Idiot," she said. "You just can't leave me alone in any world, can you? And it would be so much better for us both."
"I don't know about that," Clow said. He rolled over on his back, tickling her feet with his unbound hair. She slept naked in the summer, due to the heat, and she hadn't bothered to put on any clothes this morning when they chose not to get out of bed. Clow, in contrast, could feel the softness of his robes against his neck. She always enjoyed ripping at his clothes, scattering buttons and poking small holes with sharp fingernails that he had to repair later. Then she would call him the patchwork mage, and laugh.
"There is a world," he said, "where you teach literature, and I teach chemistry, and we're happy until I have a sudden heart problem at 50, and that's when you start drinking. And there is a world where you run an inn, and I visit once a year on my vacation, and I don't have to rent a room. And there is a world--"
"There is a world," Yuuko interrupted, sharply, "where a certain Dimension Witch is hungry, but a stupid magician just won't stop talking and solve the problem."
"Of course," he went on, as if he hadn't heard her, "this world is a happy one too. Considering." He got up and then opened the bedcurtains. The rising moon, heavy and gold, added a bit of color to Yuuko's bare limbs.
"It won't be happy for long unless you get to work," she said. He bowed an English bow, mockingly, and she threw a pillow at him. He dodged before it left her hand.
"I'm sure you're insufferable in all of those worlds. Poor, poor other Yuuko's," she said.
Clow grinned. "Lucky me," he said, and she chased him to the kitchen.
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 795 words
Prompt: comment_fic: xxxHolic, Clow/Yuuko, "And I have seen a thousand different versions of you in every universe ever known. In some of them, we are even happy."
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: PG for sexuality.
Excerpt: "You are always dreaming," she chided lazily. "Lazy men do nothing but dream."
"I had a dream last night," Clow said. Neither of them had spoken in a couple of hours, and Yuuko figured that he had fallen asleep. Except for necessities, neither of them had left her bed today. The light passing through the sheer bedcurtain had brightened until Yuuko had thrown the covers over her head, and Clow had gotten up for a few moments to make them tea and late breakfast. But the afternoon had passed away too, as they lay there, unmoving in the heat. Occasionally his breath tickled her ankle; he lay there at the foot like a loyal dog, and the idea had made her smirk a little. (He'd gotten up, so she'd taken the whole bed, but it was hard to ruffle Clow. He'd found a place. He always did.)
"You are always dreaming," she chided lazily. "Lazy men do nothing but dream."
Clow was not lazy, except on some days, like this one. And if it were up to him, he would have been out and about on their business at dawn, but when he'd shifted in the bed to rise, she had reached out and caught his shoulder. She had blinked at him, just once, with those glorious, glittering eyes of hers, and then pretended to sleep. So he had pretended with her for a few hours more. They set their own deadlines, after all. For every day they spent abed they'd spend another working until dawn, sipping wine like water, and nothing would be said of it.
"It was a prophetic dream," he said. She shifted, just a little in the bed, and the headboard creaked. He glanced up at her, but the twilight shadow hid her expression.
"Have you discovered some other setback we haven't provided for yet? Because, honestly..." she said, and stretched her arms toward the ceiling, flashing her generous bare breasts, "I think we may have reached the point where they'll just have to think a little for themselves. It is good for children to learn by experience, rather than rote."
"No," Clow said. "This was different." He was quiet for four full breaths before she kicked him in the ear. In deference to what they meant to each other, it wasn't very hard. He rubbed it anyway, and automatically reached to adjust the glasses that weren't there, which lay instead on her bedside table. He was nearly blind without them, for close-up purposes, but she always insisted that he take them off in bed, even if they weren't sleeping. He didn't ask what she didn't want him to see. He knew.
"Well, are you going to tell me or not?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I saw... us," he said. "I have seen a thousand different versions of you in every universe ever known. In some of them, we are even happy."
She didn't move for a long moment. "Idiot," she said. "You just can't leave me alone in any world, can you? And it would be so much better for us both."
"I don't know about that," Clow said. He rolled over on his back, tickling her feet with his unbound hair. She slept naked in the summer, due to the heat, and she hadn't bothered to put on any clothes this morning when they chose not to get out of bed. Clow, in contrast, could feel the softness of his robes against his neck. She always enjoyed ripping at his clothes, scattering buttons and poking small holes with sharp fingernails that he had to repair later. Then she would call him the patchwork mage, and laugh.
"There is a world," he said, "where you teach literature, and I teach chemistry, and we're happy until I have a sudden heart problem at 50, and that's when you start drinking. And there is a world where you run an inn, and I visit once a year on my vacation, and I don't have to rent a room. And there is a world--"
"There is a world," Yuuko interrupted, sharply, "where a certain Dimension Witch is hungry, but a stupid magician just won't stop talking and solve the problem."
"Of course," he went on, as if he hadn't heard her, "this world is a happy one too. Considering." He got up and then opened the bedcurtains. The rising moon, heavy and gold, added a bit of color to Yuuko's bare limbs.
"It won't be happy for long unless you get to work," she said. He bowed an English bow, mockingly, and she threw a pillow at him. He dodged before it left her hand.
"I'm sure you're insufferable in all of those worlds. Poor, poor other Yuuko's," she said.
Clow grinned. "Lucky me," he said, and she chased him to the kitchen.