A/N:So Yeah. I've decided this is bascially my SC! oneshot/drabble dumping ground. For the short, mindless fluffy ones. Amuto this time again. Why do I keep getting ideas for them? T_T Enjoy.
The List
It was a request he hadn't expected.
"Write me a list."
The command comes through a foggy haze, and he blinks slowly, eyes narrowing in slits when he looks up to see Amu above him over the couch, black paint smeared over her cheek and pen cap between her lips as she scribbles something on a piece of paper, brow furrowing with a slight frown tilting her lower lip as she concentrates. He takes a deep breath, sighing through his nose and burying his head back into the pillow, attributing it to hearing things in his sleep again. Amu hardly dared to wake him up anymore after the first time, when he'd dragged her against him on the couch to get her to be quiet so he could sleep.
Of course, she'd ended up elbowing him in the face out of surprise. But it had been amusing to see her so flustered about the bruise.
"Ikuto..." He feels her breath, warm against his bare cheek. Opening one eye, he sees she'd taken to leaning on the balls of her feet so that her eyes were level with his. She looks at him, honey eyes wide as she stares into his face, holding up the small piece of paper between forefinger and thumb so he can see. She taps it with her free hand, speaking in a softer tone unconsciously. "Grocery list."
"Mmh." He turns his face away, now comprehending the situation as she continues, tone growing slowly in pitch as if she was oblivious to his half-conscious state.
"I'm not sure what kind of food you like, so just write it down for me."
He rolls over onto his back, running his fingers through his hair as he half-listens to her and takes to watching her pace across the kitchen and back, tapping the pen against her chin as she stares at her list. He had been here three weeks already, and she went to grocery store every Friday. A list was the least thing he expected to be demanded from him. At the thought, his gaze lazily gravitates towards the fridge behind her, and the yellow note book paper tacked lopsided on it with a puppy magnet. The Rule List.
That list, he was well aware of.
He smiles slightly, sitting up so he can come up behind her, head hooking right over her ear, arm reaching over her shoulder so he leans his palm against the fridge. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a slight flush stretch across her cheeks from the sudden movement. Expression completely placid, he states it calmly next to her ear. "Strawberry milk."
"R-rule three," she finally manages to sputter, falling back against him accidentally when she points at the list roughly, ducking under his arm and attempting to control her flushed expression as she walks backwards, eyes narrowed suspiciously as she watches him. "No touching. That's a strike."
"Mmh." He leans against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest as he watches her lay the pen and paper on the table. Every rule broken earned a strike, with three strikes getting him kicked out and on the streets again. His quota was reset every week despite her constant threats. He smiles slightly. "I wasn't touching you..." Observing her silently, he walks up beside her carefully, leaning one palm flat against the table and hovering over her shoulder as closely as he had done before. His tone is low as his lips hang above her ear. "You bumped into me. Does that mean you get a strike for touching me?"
When she jumps back from him, fighting for her words, he picks up the pen with a completely placid expression, one dark eyebrow perking slightly as he attempts to think of possible food to add.
"Well, no. But. You..." She clamps her lips tight, brow furrowing as she walks back over to the list, picking up a spare pen and adding a quick detail. She taps it, looking particularly satisfied. "Rule seven. No standing closer than necessary."
Ikuto sighs lightly through his nose, watching her walk back into the living room out of the corner of his eye before his azure gaze glances back at the grocery list. She had drawn little red hearts at the edges, and a smiley face next to milk. He chuckles once, knowing it was a ritual of hers to drink it daily. Lips parting, he's about to tell her he's finished, not having added anything to the list at all, when he looks again to The List on the fridge and walks up to it, gaze dull as he stares at the specified details next to all seven demands. Unclipping the cap with his teeth, he starts to add in his own details, glancing over his shoulder once to see her sprawled along the couch, bare legs dangling over the armrest.
Blue brow rising in interest, he abandons the altered list and pen and walks over, hands in his pockets as he leans forward, observing her sleeping face as he speaks quietly, tone too low for her to wake. "Three strikes, Miss Hinamori?" He sits next to her, one arm stretched across the crest of the couch as he listens to her snore lightly. Glancing at her, he notices she had worn a tank top and shorts today to help ignore the summer heat, instead of bothering to ask the landlord again to fix the AC.
Ikuto sighs, reaching forward to brush away a stray lock of hair from her face that had slipped from her headband. Her cheekbones look sharper, lips more defined. But she still appears almost like a child in her sleep, expression gently lax and lips parted slightly. Just as she had 5 years ago, when he'd first left. "Oh." He lifts his hand away, staring at it without expression. "I guess that would be a strike. Rule 1: No touching."
Silent for a moment, a small, amused tilt to his lip suddenly threatens his calm demeanor. He leans over her, lips hanging above her forehead before he gently presses them to her skin. "Strike two..."
Eye half-lidded, he watches her stir from the contact, brow growing tight for a moment and mumbling darkly before she relaxes again. Testing his luck to a ridiculous point, he leans over her again, bangs brushing over her cheeks as his lips hang over hers. Her eyelids flutter, but she doesn't move. "Three..."
An inch above her own face, her eyes shoot wide open, stance going rigid before she scrambles up quickly, lips catching against his as their faces slam together. She lays back down, mouth slowly growing in a solid 'O' as she stares up at him, wordless and clutching the couch.
His face contorts in slight pain as he leans his head back, fore finger and thumb clutching the bridge of his nose where she'd slammed into him. He feels the couch sink as she clambers up and away from him, eyes still wide and stumbling over her words as she sticks to the wall. "Y-you. You just—"
Ikuto watches her calmly with one eye closed, nose still throbbing. She bites her lip, switching from foot to foot as her gaze dances around wildly, attempting to find the words. Finally, she points at him. "Strike! That's a strike! Your second one...or third." Her brow furrows as she mouths the math to herself, attempting to make sense of just how many strikes he'd had in this weeks alone.
He stands, watching her in wry amusement as she suddenly stiffens when he comes closer, stopping a foot from her to rub at his nose again. Her expression softens, and she watches him worriedly, hands clasped as guilt overshadows her embarrassment. She steps forward. "Ikuto?"
When he doesn't respond immediately, eyes still closed, he feels her hand touch his cheek, guiding his face down to look at her. She mumbles quietly to herself."It doesn't look bruised...
He opens his eyes, catching her hand before she has the chance to pull away. "Strike two."
"What? What do you mean strike two? Ikuto—" She attempts to pull away weakly, but he intertwines their fingers, smiling barely. He tests his chances, taking a step forward so she has no choice but to scuttle back, caught between the wall and him. He minds his distance, rule number 7 nagging vaguely at the back of his mind as he's aware she would use any excuse to escape him.
"You bumped into me and kissed me. Considering that..." He leans down, eyes level with hers as he speaks quietly. "Strike two, Amu."
Her lips part, but no words fall from her as she stands against the wall, eyes wide. Suddenly, the door left to them bursts open, and Kukai stands there, running a hand through his hair and whistling loudly as he steps through the door with a less-than-pleased looking Utau behind him, arms crossed over her chest. "Hey, Amu! The door was unlocked, so—"
Kukai halts, eyes wide as he takes in the scene, the absence of words from the boy strangely unnerving. The four friends are silent for a moment before Amu breaks from Ikuto, cheeks flush as she rambles off excuses to Utau, who silently stands off to the side in her two-piece swimsuit, lips pursed.
"Well, we brought icecream, guys." Already having gotten over the moment he'd interrupted, Kukai sets down his cooler on the kitchen table, tearing open a wrapper as he walks over to the fridge, lips already stained light blue as he observes the yellow list, frowning slightly as his green eyes narrow in concentration. "...What is this?"
Amu stops dead, hands flailing as she jogs over to where Kukai is, ripping the list from his prying hands. Her eyes scan over the page, face reddening before she looks up at Ikuto, pitch growing as she observes his edits.
"You crossed out all seven?"
He sits down on the couch, leaning his head back as he closes his eyes before nearly sighing his reasoning through half-parted lips.
"I revised it."
Rule 1: Amu Hinamori is property of Ikuto Tsukiyomi
After all, it was the most important rule.
