AN: Lol. So, my dear friend and beta SinnersLikeUs doesn't actually know I'm doing this, so please no one tell her. This series of oneshots is based off of her fic "Overdrive." Go read it. Context makes things fun ;) Anyways... I don't own anything, and I don't even own my files anymore because they all got deleted, so... yeah, don't be expecting any other updates for a few days. I need to re-get mah stuffs back! Weeeeell, enjoy.
She wakes him up one day and it isn't early, but it isn't late.
"Gakkun." She whispers quietly, excitement colouring her voice. "We're going somewhere. You might get tired, and it may hurt, but it'll all be worth it."
He thinks that it doesn't mean what he hopes it does. Of course it doesn't, but he's still going to wish it did. But instead he swallows heavily and grins, agreeing instantly.
Always. It's always worth it
She cheers loudly, then dives under his bed when her brother opens his door suspiciously.
What a strange girl.
She lets him get changed, grudgingly, but doesn't get out from under his bed. She giggles, and he realizes with belated horror that he keeps his diary under there.
He sprays cologne under the bed, and she rolls out, gasping for breath and hacking her lungs out and cursing him all at once.
So cute, he thinks, so cute to see her threaten emasculation.
...
She blindfolds him and he is ashamed that this doesn't bother him.
But she takes his hand in hers and tries to pull him along a path, and he refuses to budge to irritate her, in part, but mostly because he loves hearing her whine. He moves eventually, when she starts reciting lines from his di- journal, verbatim.
He can move pretty fast sometimes.
Unfortuantely, the path ends in a tunnel and she forgets that not everyone is short like her, so he is promptly taken out by a branch to the mouth.
Dammit, that hurt.
She apologizes profusely, but he suspects that's it's not honest. When he won't forgive her, she offers to kiss it better for him, and he can feel himself blush and hear her giggle, before her fingers touch his lips. They taste like oranges.
Lip gloss? Possibly. He must investigate this further.
...
They finally get there, but she rips off the blindfold with no warning, so he is blinded by the sun and squeaks, in a manly sort of way, before covering his eyes and sitting down.
She huffs, he can hear that, and pries his hands off his eyes. He keeps them screwed shut.
"Look," she says, "I will force them open, and it's less fun for us both when it isn't consensual."
Damn her and her innuendo. Damn it all to hell.
But he opens his eyes, and has adjusted enough to see her eyes right next to his. Following up his earlier manliness with a shriek, he falls to his back. She snorts.
"Look around, idiot."
He does, wincing at the light at first, but getting used to it. It's pretty. Very pretty. Flowers everywhere, and a lake, and he wonders where the hell they are but says "Wow," because that's what she wants to hear.
...
She's basically a child, no matter how the lady doth protest it. So easily amused, no naïve… he hums speculatively, watching her twirl around and fall to the ground when the dizziness overtakes her.
She's singing, but he doesn't know what the tune is and suspects she doesn't either.
Awestruck, he watches her dance in the sunlight, and barely moves when she places a flower crown on his head.
"Now you look even more girly!" she jubilates, then runs off to the lake-pond to jump in.
He doesn't know whether to be annoyed, amused, or following her into the water.
She's such a child.
He stares down at his hands, large and callused, and finds himself struck by a sudden melancholy.
I wish I was a child.