A/N: Again, dedicated to kellyQ and Holy- kellyQ for insisting
that I could indeed go further with this little timeline, and
Holy for the terrifically amusing idea that inspired this part
of the story.
This installment is far more lighthearted (and has far more innuendo) than "Thinking of You Again" was originally meant to be, but dangit, I just can't leave my angsty stuff alone- I always have to give it a happy ending! ^ ^;; And I do have "Loved You Better" in there for a smooth transition, so hopefully no one will have trouble adjusting.
Still Ken-chan's POV, of course.
"Dating In Triplicate"
My Daisuke.
I love the sound of those two words together- my Daisuke, my Daisuke, my Daisuke. Mine and mine alone.
I smile at you next to me and you blush. You've been doing that a lot since I kissed you last night. Your son looks exasperated by this; mine is only puzzled. He does not know why we are here, sitting in a nice restaurant less than twenty-four hours after the finalization of my divorce with our digimon all left at home to "baby-sit" his siblings- never mind that my eldest is a legal adult in any country. He is concerned, though- his eyes flicker to your son's more than once.
No reason to leave him hanging. I lean forward and smile at our children sweetly. "Is there perhaps something you would like to tell us, boys?" I ask.
Now you are the exasperated one; you never did truly master the art of patience. Not that I mind; it means that you should be jumping me any day now. A very pleasant thought indeed.
My son is nervous now, fidgeting in his seat. "About what?" he asks me uncertainly, his eyes again seeking out those eyes that are so like yours but belong to someone else entirely.
Their owner speaks, voice flat: "We're dating. Gonna make something of it, Ichijouji-san?"
My son nearly falls out of his chair and I give yours a dry look. "You are even blunter than your father," I inform him blithely. He looks flattered by the sentiment.
You give me a hurt look. "Blunt? I'm not blunt! Who said that I was- "
I simply put a finger to your lips, a warm laugh bubbling out past my attempt at a scolding expression, and you blush again, deeper this time. It's all that I can do not to kiss you right here, but my son still does not know about our budding relationship, and I would like to break it to him as gently as-
"Our dads are fucking on the sly," your sweet, innocent child announces just as the waitress arrives, snapping his goggles back a bit further on his head.
- possible. Damn.
"About that 'blunt' thing?" you tell me dryly, folding your arms atop the table. "I think I'm starting to see your point."
The waitress twitches slightly. "Are you ready to order?" she asks, her voice deceptively cheery. I make a mental note to tip her well.
"We'll take the chicken," your son replies brightly, then points at you and I. "They'll take the key to the back room."
Very, VERY well.
My own son is now quite officially bewildered, and as you and I place a more, ah, appropriate order, he looks around the table in helpless confusion. Were your offspring and I closer in age, I might consider him to be a bit of a sadistic bastard for doing this to his boyfriend, father, and boyfriend's father.
I offer him a somewhat dubious look and receive a cavity- inducing smile in return. Dear Lord, he's worse than Yamato at his strangest. And Yamato has been a very, very strange person since his first tromp around the Digiworld, according to Sora. According to everyone else, he was plenty screwed up BEFORE he got to the Digiworld, but that isn't really the point I'm trying to make here.
"I could eat you, you know," I tell him flatly.
The smile turns wicked. "That's not YOUR job, Ichijouji-san. Besides, shouldn't you be saving room for Daddy?"
You and my son both turn bright red and attempt to sink underneath the table. What a little pervert you've raised, my dear Daisuke.
I hope it comes from your side of the family.
A few minutes later, a familiar figure enters the restaurant, and we all balk in unison, recognizing it but definitely not expecting it.
"Mom?!" my son yelps in surprise, and yours whistles in appreciation.
"Ichijouji-san, you stupid old man, you divorced THAT?" he cries in appreciation, applauding loudly enough to draw the attention of the entire restaurant.
I cannot say that I am not completely unmoved by the sight of the lovely Miyako in what is obviously a newly purchased clingy blue silk pantsuit, but the thought of you clad in a similar fabric is far more intriguing at the moment.
Strangely, she blushes when she sees us, but I comprehend quickly. Your light is coming in behind her- and I have reason to suspect that she is not only your light, but Miyako's as well. I hope the feeling is reciprocated, for both their sakes. Hikari has never had a real marriage. Artificial insemination will get you a child, but nothing in your bed.
The boys wave to them, and both women return the gesture. Miyako blows a kiss, and then the two move on, seeming concerned with only each other.
Your son smirks again. "Wouldn't it be cool if- "
"No," I cut in quickly.
He gives me an odd look for a moment, then his eyes widen. "Christ, they aren't REALLY- "
"NO," I repeat. You wear an expression not unlike the pouts that were so common for you in childhood. After how many years, you still think of your light. Devotion is a frightening thing, but you handle it well enough that it is not quite obsession any longer.
I think.
"So you're . . . dating?" my son asks, distractions finally gone.
"Ah . . ." I suddenly realize that I have yet to discuss this with you. I don't want to rush into anything that might make you-
"Yup," you confirm idly, folding your napkin into a little paper crane and making it "fly" over my head.
-uncomfortable. Damn again. Motomiyas are very scary people.
Your crane does a kamikaze dive into the romantically lit candles and promptly sets first itself and then the tablecloth aflame. Your son resignedly pulls what appears to be an asbestos handkerchief out of his pocket and smothers the minor catastrophe. I hate to think it, but it seems as if he carries it around for that express purpose. I can't imagine why one would blow one's nose on asbestos, after all.
"So, it's okay with you if we keep dating, right?" he asks without missing a beat. "So long as we don't whine about you getting' down an' dirty, at least?"
"I have no objections, as long as you and my little, underage boy don't follow our example," I retort wryly. Said underage boy turns crimson again and your perverted offspring whistles innocently.
You blush as well and look at me in a very endearing way, clearly embarrassed. "Ken . . . " you mutter, blush darkening.
"Yes, lovely?" I ask mildly, smiling at you and slipping a hand under the table to brush against your so-nice little tush.
Ahem.
"You're not fit for human company," you tell me with a scowl, still chuckling briefly at my touch.
"Don't paw my dad at the table; you'll wreck my appetite," your son says flatly. I notice his own hand, however, is also beneath the table and my own son is blushing even more so than before. The little hypocrite. I'd kill him if he weren't possibly going to become a relation.
Crap. What happens if you and I move in together? I just know your boy would be more than glad for the chance to jump mine on a daily basis.
. . . Oddly enough, I think I may let Miyako have uncontested custody of the children.
Your ankle hooks around mine even as you give the boys a disapproving look, and I laugh softly. You're so cute, so sweet, so utterly, utterly my Daisuke. Your foot slowly makes its way up my calf and you grin at me, waggling your eyebrows.
I could be here like this for forever and then some. Well, assuming I wouldn't need to use the restroom. Or die. Or go to work. Or see my other two children. Or pay for dinner. Or-
Never mind. Logic sucks anyway.
* ende *
Wow. That was a bit longer than I thought it'd be, but . . . ^ ^;; Go me. Well, I think I may do a little lemon-flavored epilogue if anyone asks for it, but as for now, that is the end.
This installment is far more lighthearted (and has far more innuendo) than "Thinking of You Again" was originally meant to be, but dangit, I just can't leave my angsty stuff alone- I always have to give it a happy ending! ^ ^;; And I do have "Loved You Better" in there for a smooth transition, so hopefully no one will have trouble adjusting.
Still Ken-chan's POV, of course.
"Dating In Triplicate"
My Daisuke.
I love the sound of those two words together- my Daisuke, my Daisuke, my Daisuke. Mine and mine alone.
I smile at you next to me and you blush. You've been doing that a lot since I kissed you last night. Your son looks exasperated by this; mine is only puzzled. He does not know why we are here, sitting in a nice restaurant less than twenty-four hours after the finalization of my divorce with our digimon all left at home to "baby-sit" his siblings- never mind that my eldest is a legal adult in any country. He is concerned, though- his eyes flicker to your son's more than once.
No reason to leave him hanging. I lean forward and smile at our children sweetly. "Is there perhaps something you would like to tell us, boys?" I ask.
Now you are the exasperated one; you never did truly master the art of patience. Not that I mind; it means that you should be jumping me any day now. A very pleasant thought indeed.
My son is nervous now, fidgeting in his seat. "About what?" he asks me uncertainly, his eyes again seeking out those eyes that are so like yours but belong to someone else entirely.
Their owner speaks, voice flat: "We're dating. Gonna make something of it, Ichijouji-san?"
My son nearly falls out of his chair and I give yours a dry look. "You are even blunter than your father," I inform him blithely. He looks flattered by the sentiment.
You give me a hurt look. "Blunt? I'm not blunt! Who said that I was- "
I simply put a finger to your lips, a warm laugh bubbling out past my attempt at a scolding expression, and you blush again, deeper this time. It's all that I can do not to kiss you right here, but my son still does not know about our budding relationship, and I would like to break it to him as gently as-
"Our dads are fucking on the sly," your sweet, innocent child announces just as the waitress arrives, snapping his goggles back a bit further on his head.
- possible. Damn.
"About that 'blunt' thing?" you tell me dryly, folding your arms atop the table. "I think I'm starting to see your point."
The waitress twitches slightly. "Are you ready to order?" she asks, her voice deceptively cheery. I make a mental note to tip her well.
"We'll take the chicken," your son replies brightly, then points at you and I. "They'll take the key to the back room."
Very, VERY well.
My own son is now quite officially bewildered, and as you and I place a more, ah, appropriate order, he looks around the table in helpless confusion. Were your offspring and I closer in age, I might consider him to be a bit of a sadistic bastard for doing this to his boyfriend, father, and boyfriend's father.
I offer him a somewhat dubious look and receive a cavity- inducing smile in return. Dear Lord, he's worse than Yamato at his strangest. And Yamato has been a very, very strange person since his first tromp around the Digiworld, according to Sora. According to everyone else, he was plenty screwed up BEFORE he got to the Digiworld, but that isn't really the point I'm trying to make here.
"I could eat you, you know," I tell him flatly.
The smile turns wicked. "That's not YOUR job, Ichijouji-san. Besides, shouldn't you be saving room for Daddy?"
You and my son both turn bright red and attempt to sink underneath the table. What a little pervert you've raised, my dear Daisuke.
I hope it comes from your side of the family.
A few minutes later, a familiar figure enters the restaurant, and we all balk in unison, recognizing it but definitely not expecting it.
"Mom?!" my son yelps in surprise, and yours whistles in appreciation.
"Ichijouji-san, you stupid old man, you divorced THAT?" he cries in appreciation, applauding loudly enough to draw the attention of the entire restaurant.
I cannot say that I am not completely unmoved by the sight of the lovely Miyako in what is obviously a newly purchased clingy blue silk pantsuit, but the thought of you clad in a similar fabric is far more intriguing at the moment.
Strangely, she blushes when she sees us, but I comprehend quickly. Your light is coming in behind her- and I have reason to suspect that she is not only your light, but Miyako's as well. I hope the feeling is reciprocated, for both their sakes. Hikari has never had a real marriage. Artificial insemination will get you a child, but nothing in your bed.
The boys wave to them, and both women return the gesture. Miyako blows a kiss, and then the two move on, seeming concerned with only each other.
Your son smirks again. "Wouldn't it be cool if- "
"No," I cut in quickly.
He gives me an odd look for a moment, then his eyes widen. "Christ, they aren't REALLY- "
"NO," I repeat. You wear an expression not unlike the pouts that were so common for you in childhood. After how many years, you still think of your light. Devotion is a frightening thing, but you handle it well enough that it is not quite obsession any longer.
I think.
"So you're . . . dating?" my son asks, distractions finally gone.
"Ah . . ." I suddenly realize that I have yet to discuss this with you. I don't want to rush into anything that might make you-
"Yup," you confirm idly, folding your napkin into a little paper crane and making it "fly" over my head.
-uncomfortable. Damn again. Motomiyas are very scary people.
Your crane does a kamikaze dive into the romantically lit candles and promptly sets first itself and then the tablecloth aflame. Your son resignedly pulls what appears to be an asbestos handkerchief out of his pocket and smothers the minor catastrophe. I hate to think it, but it seems as if he carries it around for that express purpose. I can't imagine why one would blow one's nose on asbestos, after all.
"So, it's okay with you if we keep dating, right?" he asks without missing a beat. "So long as we don't whine about you getting' down an' dirty, at least?"
"I have no objections, as long as you and my little, underage boy don't follow our example," I retort wryly. Said underage boy turns crimson again and your perverted offspring whistles innocently.
You blush as well and look at me in a very endearing way, clearly embarrassed. "Ken . . . " you mutter, blush darkening.
"Yes, lovely?" I ask mildly, smiling at you and slipping a hand under the table to brush against your so-nice little tush.
Ahem.
"You're not fit for human company," you tell me with a scowl, still chuckling briefly at my touch.
"Don't paw my dad at the table; you'll wreck my appetite," your son says flatly. I notice his own hand, however, is also beneath the table and my own son is blushing even more so than before. The little hypocrite. I'd kill him if he weren't possibly going to become a relation.
Crap. What happens if you and I move in together? I just know your boy would be more than glad for the chance to jump mine on a daily basis.
. . . Oddly enough, I think I may let Miyako have uncontested custody of the children.
Your ankle hooks around mine even as you give the boys a disapproving look, and I laugh softly. You're so cute, so sweet, so utterly, utterly my Daisuke. Your foot slowly makes its way up my calf and you grin at me, waggling your eyebrows.
I could be here like this for forever and then some. Well, assuming I wouldn't need to use the restroom. Or die. Or go to work. Or see my other two children. Or pay for dinner. Or-
Never mind. Logic sucks anyway.
* ende *
Wow. That was a bit longer than I thought it'd be, but . . . ^ ^;; Go me. Well, I think I may do a little lemon-flavored epilogue if anyone asks for it, but as for now, that is the end.
