Hmm... how do I describe this fic? It's Kensuke, kinda fluffy, mostly pointless. It was going to have plot at some point in time.

Staunch
By Six

They had always lived together in the lofty apartment. Davis waited tables during the day, often taking an additional shift when he wanted the extra cash, and was forever taking pictures to adorn the once solid white walls. There were pictures of them both. Standing happily and holding hands in front of buildings or on busy street-sides, they were together whenever they could be. Davis loved to display their happy memories and joyful times all over their walls. When friends stopped by, they marveled at the moments caught in time: the couple's perfect bliss captured in the small wooden frames from which they could almost share a bit of the heaven.

The redhead developed a new roll of film at least once a week. When he got home with the envelope of pictures, hair ravaged from the wind, but eyes bright and cheerful, the pair would spread them out on the table, separating them into piles from which they would choose their favorites to frame or make collages from. Oftentimes they spent several hours reliving their lives through the images, playing back everything that happened and they felt: the joy, the laughter, the overall good feeling that they got from being with one another. Davis would hold Ken close, reveling in the fleeting sensations until the next day came, the magic of the pictures having worn in a bit, and a new workday started.

Ken had an important job in a large, mirror-windowed, high-rise office building. He wore expensive black suits with colorful silk ties and worked hard five days a week. His cellphone rang all day long and he typed on his laptop with speed and precision earned from years of practice. Ken was busy from nine to five and frequently even later than that. Davis hated that job.

Saturdays were different. They were a day when neither of the pair worked and they could lie around in their white-sheeted bed together all day, watching the large screen television and kissing during commercial breaks. Most Saturdays were spent in bed until late afternoon, Ken sleeping off the exhausting workweek and Davis just liking to sleep and cuddle up next to his boyfriend. Eventually Davis would pull himself away from the Egyptian cotton sheets and the warm body next to his and into one of the many pieces of leather furniture, preferably one near the bed so he could watch Ken in the paradise of sleep. Sometimes he took pictures. Ones taken on lazy Saturdays were put in the plain black photo album in the drawer of his oak nightstand with the Tiffany lamp on top. He was the only one that ever saw those special pictures and they meant the world to him. When he was lonely or sad, the pictures of Ken that were hidden in the thin pages made him feel like nothing else mattered. He just needed Ken and the world was right.

"Davis? What are you doing?" asked Ken, blinking in the early afternoon light at the silhouette situated in a comfortable looking chaise lounge not far from the king-sized poster bed.

Davis smiled, "Watching you."

Ken smiled, too.

~*~*~*~

I was thinking of making this into a series (actually that was what I was going to do all along), but I thought I would submit it first and see what people think of the first part. So what do you think... Should I write the next part?