Part Eight- Contagious Concepts- A concept for my each of my favorite Furuba pairings. They take place after the reception of Tohru and Kyo's wedding (they're 22, it took him awhile to get the guts to ask her...). Its a moonlit night and there is something contagious in the air.
I'll be posting them as separate one-shots, because the ratings will change between them.
If you enjoy this one, please read my Kakeru x Komaki fic called 'Conference', my Arisa x Kureno fic called 'Content', Yuki x Machi fic called 'Confident', my Kisa x Hiro fic called 'Confess', my Hana x Kazuma fic called 'Congratulations', my Hatori x May fic called 'Concern', my Akito x Shigure fic called 'Conquer', and my Rin x Haru fic called 'Confront'.
Disclaimer- Furuba isn't mine.
R&R! I'd love to know what you think. Tell me which fic/pairing I should post/write next! No flames please, flames hurt. But kind criticism is appreciated. And this is my interpretation, so if we interpret differently, let's not fight, okay?
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Dancing was one of those things that Mine couldn't picture Ayame ever being incapable of, like sewing or drinking tea elegantly. It was hard to imagine him ever being part of a ballroom dance class or studying dance videos. He was just talented, and magnificently so.
She watched him gracefully guiding Ritchan's date, Mitsuru, on the dance floor. She was positively crimson and Aaya was obviously making overly smooth comments. Mine giggled, he was such a charmer. She didn't mind, it was just in his nature.
"Ah, excuse me Mine-san, may I sit here?"
She looked up to see Komaki Nakao standing before her in a lovely sky-blue kimono, pointing to the empty seat at her side.
"Of course, please do. Any friend of Black-kun's is always welcome." She smiled widely, trying to keep the glint out of her eyes. She would love to dress her up sometime; she'd have to ask Kakeru to bring her in. He wouldn't complain.
They sat in silence for a few moments, Mine's bamboo knitting needles clicking quietly between her fingers. Komaki was such a sweet girl but there was something different about her tonight. She had something on her mind. Ayame twirled Shigure's ex-editor whose face was a little panicked. She knew how she felt, as if her feet were totally out of control. She remembered that feeling.
The first time she went dancing with Ayame was at a wedding of one of their loyal clients. He was flawless as ever but she'd never danced before. After a few moments, it didn't matter. No matter how much it felt like she was about to trip over her own feet and crash to the floor, taking him with her, it never happened. He subtly led her and it looked as if they'd been dancers together for years.
He told her once that it was simply his job to make his partner feel like she was graceful and elegant, just like it was his job to make clothes that elicited the same feelings.
"What are you making, Mine-san?"
Her head cleared as she realized she'd been spacing out. The girl with the imagination, the one she'd been her entire life. She had to peek down at her work to remember what the answer to the question was.
"Baby-booties. I didn't want to start them until I saw how big Takeshi was getting. They're hard to sew for when they're that young. These'll last awhile though, I think." She held up the petite blue yarn creations that she was knitting ribs into for extra stretch as he grew. Was it her imagination, or did Komaki pale ever so slightly?
She enjoyed making baby clothing, the opportunity to make something tiny, and thus, extra cute! The challenge of developing something that would resist wear-and-tear, stains, and exponential growth excited her. She decided to ask Aaya later if he liked the idea of starting a line for toddlers.
Her needles clicked together like old friends. She loved the sound of knitting, almost as much as she loved the sound of sewing.
It was high school when she'd first picked up a pair of needles and taught herself what to do from a book her aunt had given her. Mine-chan liked crafty stuff right? It was difficult at first and she dropped stitches and started over and knitted unevenly or skipped a row in the pattern and started over again. It was a learning experience for her, but she learned to love it.
Knitting gives her the chance to think while her fingers work away tirelessly. When she was a teenager it helped her escape from the reality that didn't really accept her dreams of frills and maid outfits and tea parties. They wanted her to think of wars and derivations and futures. High school just wasn't her happy place it turned out, she'd gotten half-way decent grades. Her parents desperately wanted her to either have a high-powered career or get married, and neither was what she wanted.
She didn't know what she wanted until she stumbled on Ayame's shop. With the boss she could hold tea parties and dress as a maid every day. She blossomed with the freedom to be herself once and for all and sew frills on a skirt a lawyer might wear. She'd been lead to believe the world had no room for a person like her and Ayame elegantly broke that down, showing her the places she didn't know existed, where people thought like her.
It was Ayame who was both her Victorian prince and her exotic Chinese charmer and never asked her to get down to business or take life seriously or think about her future. He knew that her future could be as happy as a maid as a lawyer. On second thought, being a lawyer wouldn't suit her at all.
She finished the toe of the little shoe and snipped the yarn with a small pair of scissors. Holding it up to admire her work, she noticed the young woman sitting next to her had progressed from pale to chalky. Not a healthy color.
"Perhaps, Mine my lovely genius, you have thought of doing something as splendid as a line of children's clothing?"
Ayame was standing behind her, gesturing with a free hand while pulling out a chair for Mitsuru who looked rather dizzy. He was looking right at Komaki, his golden eyes intuitive. Mine caught his drift immediately; she glanced at Kakeru's girlfriend. Of course, how hadn't she noticed before?
"Yes, though at this point I'd say we'd start with something unisex." She played with one of her braids thoughtfully. Komaki turned an ill shade of pink.
"Indeed. Mitsuru-san, though I'm sure you are overwhelmed from our brilliant triumph on the dance floor, would you be so saintly as to fetch a cup of hot tea for this young lady? Something herbal would suffice, I should think."
She slowly rose, still dazed, and walked away to complete the task. It was difficult to refuse Aaya when asked so eloquently.
"I believe this dance is ours?" His voice was perfect, her fairytale voice, the one that lived in her imagination when she daydreamed. She had been so lucky to find him, and even though he thought she was his savior, he was just as much hers. Left to her own thoughts, she probably would have languished and created darkness for herself. She needed him, the Boss, who answered her thoughts like they were the same person. The Boss who closed the shop even before he knew she was sick. The Boss who she could talk to like no one else on the planet.
She smiled and took his hand, rising to her feet. His skin was smooth, but she could feel the broken skin at his fingertips from thousands of pinpricks. In their line of business there was no escaping it.
The two of them on the dance floor was breathtaking. He was so warm and so gentlemanly. This kind of dance was the sort that fit them perfectly. It wasn't about bodies rubbing against each other in illicit ways, it was a gentle touch of hand on hand, hand on waist, hand on shoulder. Romantic, elegant. But it was his eyes staring deep into hers that was sexy. People these days just didn't know how to be refined. She looked back, and her whole body tingled.
Mitsuru, who hadn't really danced much before, was somehow awkward though she was expertly led. Mine, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Waltzing with Ayame was graceful because each knew exactly what to do. She didn't need to follow his example; the movements simply were as if there was no communication between the two, just synergy.
And energy. They spun and twirled, her skirt rustling at just the perfect volume, a conversation they'd once had at the shop, and her heart was racing. She loved the feeling of dancing, of not having to speak or even whisper, to know exactly what he was thinking. Not that she needed it anyhow. The slightest pressure on her arm or the smallest movement of his shoulders told her exactly what he was going to do, then it was up to her how to respond.
Soon, the room was nearly empty and the music over. Ayame had deviated from the traditional ballroom stance, open and free, and opted for something closer. Still elegant, but more intimate. His arm rested around her waist, though nearer to her hips than her to shoulder blades and their other hands were interlocked. Her fingers gently gripped the material of his Chinese-style outfit, stylish though he'd modified it to look slightly like a tuxedo. She could feel his lips on the top of her hair. He smelled excellent.
They swayed, just the two of them, slowly to a song they heard in their heads. Between them, it was the same key, the same lyrics, the same rhythm.
Though school hadn't been the time of her life, Mine remembered a distant math class.
Congruent objects coincide identically when superimposed, her teacher had said as she daydreamed.
Holding gently to him, feeling how warm he was, feeling his long and beautiful hair against her skin, Mine thought that if congruent triangles had congruent souls, than she and Ayame certainly had identical side lengths and identical interior angles.
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R&R Tell me what you think! Curious about Komaki? Read my 'Conference' fic to hear her side of the story.