Aoshi woke up to someone else's breathing. This was an unusual enough circumstance that, for the short while when he was still sleep-fogged and muddled, it threw him off completely. Then he looked over, saw Tsukioka sleeping no more than a few feet away, curled up on his side like nothing more than an overgrown kitten, and Aoshi remembered.
And that wasn't such a bad thing.
There, in the cool dusk of pre-dawn, with only the deeply slumbering form of the artist for company, Aoshi smiled. It was a small one, and probably only to be considered a smile by mere technicality. Philosophers would probably be able to spend an entire century or so amusing themselves by debating whether or not it existed.
In other words, it was his kind of smile.
But, that wasn't really important – despite what Misao thought, he had smiled a few of these almost-smiles in his time. No, the smile itself wasn't important at all. Aoshi had no idea why he was smiling.
And that was.
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Fluffy little drabble cause it's too late for anything else. (and five minutes before midnight still counts as on time, right?)
Nicky: Thanks! I tend to think like that about humanity sometimes too (especially when I think of certain pieces of shrubbery that happen to be in charge of my nations future) but it's too late to get into a rant, so let's not. And I rant quite a bit myself, so I've got no problem with other people doing the same. ^_^
