The obscure titles strike again—Aeneid, book VI: "Sleep who is close kin to Death." I guess I was trying to be funny. Obscurely. I shan't do it again.
Close Kin
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the type where the sun slid across the sky in shades of warm orange and the heat dripped into the room, inspiring feelings of profound general well-being, and leaving everyone sprawled across couches with their eyes closed and their consciousnesses shutting down.
(The only flaw in above description is that Souen Ruka does not sprawl: she gracefully inclines, and her consciousness does not shut down—she lies there with Akatsuki and compares said shades of warm orange to his hair.)
But Akatsuki's consciousness is well and truly shutting down ("what more could I expect from you," said Ruka, "you need to sleep more at night") and he is getting to the stage where he does not think quite as much as he should. Especially before he speaks.
He should have known it'd be trouble. He's usually so good at keeping his mouth shut.
As it is, he figures his brain isn't working properly anyway. This is on account of the feeling of tremendous, intense happiness he hasn't quite gotten used to yet. This, in turn, is on account of the fact that, yesterday, Ruka agreed to marry him.
(Their families approve and everything. And he'd only needed to ask once. Really, it couldn't have gone better.)
So maybe he can be forgiven for saying a few things which might be silly. This, however, does not save him from their consequences.
He's lying there with Ruka, her head on his chest (and they fit so well, really they do), and he's thinking about the announcement of their engagement, which he understands will almost certainly be tomorrow. And he says, without thinking very much about it, "If I didn't know better, I'd say this called for a party." His voice comes out slowly, pleasantly. The idea of a party is, at this point, pleasant.
At this point.
Ruka lifts her head to meet his eyes, fails because they're closed, and puts her head back down. "If you didn't know better." The sentence is a question wrapped in a statement thinly veiled with a demand—one of those that Akatsuki has to answer, on fear of death or injury or whatever else Ruka can come up with.
"Mm," Akatsuki replies, if it can be called a reply at all. "I mean, the idea's nice, but parties get so complicated…"
By 'complicated' he means that he would rather not attend parties at all, because there are too many people and too many meaningless greetings and it grates on his nerves. He'd much prefer to sleep, or spend time with his family (Ruka obviously included), or do pretty much anything else at all.
He's mentioned a party, and, as he might probably have suspected had his common sense been fully functional, is already beginning to regret it.
See, Ruka loves parties and everything that goes with them. She loves dressing up (which Akatsuki actually doesn't mind, if nothing else because Ruka gets more stunning every time), and socialising, and generally being an active member of vampire society. Akatsuki has taken to agreeing with whatever she says and consuming as much alcohol as is socially appropriate.
"Well," Ruka says, her fingertip drawing idle circles on the fabric above Akatsuki's hipbone, "I say we have a party."
And there's the trouble he knew it'd be. Although…
"What kind of party?" There's a small sliver of hope that it will be a family-based affair, with people Akatsuki actually knows. Their kin. He likes the word. It comforts him.
He can't see, but he's pretty sure that Ruka grins. "A big one," she says. "Lots of people. All wanting to talk to us."
The sliver of hope disappears into the ether.
"Oh," says Akatsuki. "A big one."
"Just think!" Ruka says with far too much enthusiasm, sitting up and, Akatsuki guesses, waving her hands about. There is probably an unholy light of eagerness in her eyes."We'll have it in the ballroom, and we'll fill the chandeliers with candles—see, Akatsuki, you could light them—and we can get out the draperies, and it'll be so pretty…"
This is a kind of extreme regret the likes of which Akatsuki has not previously known and wishes never to know again. Mentioning parties is always a bad idea.
No, mentioning anything is always a bad idea, and should never under any circumstances be done. He'd never talk again if it wouldn't be hideously impractical.
He has to go to a party now. For him. And Ruka. There'll be so many people…
"And we'll have to get the silver," Ruka finishes, having spoken for a few moments of logistics and decoration and getting her hair done. She pauses, and it makes Akatsuki vaguely suspicious. "Of course, that's only if you want a party at all."
Akatsuki opens his eyes for the sole purpose of being able to blink at her. Then he closes them again. Ruka's asking for his opinion with regards to the holding of a party?
"Oh, Akatsuki," she says, "come on. I know you don't like parties."
"I know you do like parties," Akatsuki says. if Ruka wants to have a party, they'll have a party.
The tone she uses now would to anyone else be patronising; to him it's just cute. "I was teasing you," she says. "I don't particularly want a party either."
That's new. It is also immensely relieving. About as immense as how tired he has just realised he is.
"Good, then," he says with a certain dreamy quality, lacing his fingers behind his head. "I don't like parties."
He feels Ruka before she actually touches him; she leans down and gently kisses his forehead. "Go to sleep," she says. "One can't plan a party when one has not slept."
Hold on just a second —"I thought you said…"
She taps his nose. "Shh."
He obeys. She's probably still teasing.
Probably.