Just a little drabble fic done for the 15minuteficlets livejournal community. :) Short and incredibly pointless.
Started: 9:01
Finished: 9:13
Word count: 377
Mornings
by Anria
It was . . . incomplete.
Aya stared down at the arrangement on the table in front of him, and frowned. There was something off about it, something wrong – but he couldn't quite tell what.
It annoyed the crap out of him.
The back door rattled as it opened, pulling his attention from the flowers to the door. Yohji stumbled in, bleary-eyed and yawning as he scratched at the day's worth of stubble on his chin. It was probably his Eurasian background that gave him a stronger growth of beard than Aya – he only had to shave once every couple of days, if that.
Yohji peered at him blearily out of one eye, a little smile curling his lips. "There you are," he said, managing to circumvent the cluttered floor space to wrap his arms around Aya. Yohji's large hand curled up under Aya's shirt, pressing gently into his stomach. "Oi, leave that thing alone, will you? You've been working on it since yesterday," he complained. "It's six in the morning. Come back to bed."
"It's not finished," Aya muttered, feeling oddly embarrassed. Yohji was warm against the pre-heater chill of the shop, and he melted back gratefully into the older man's chest.
He felt more than heard Yohji sigh, and tipped his head up dutifully when the blond's free hand cupped his chin. Yohji's kiss was warm, and soft, and tasted like home.
"Ten minutes, okay?" Yohji murmured against his lips. "Then I'm coming to get you."
It made him feel warm, to know that someone understood him that much.
Aya watched as Yohji left, stretching as he walked. A small smile flickered around his lips as the taller man tripped over a flowerpot and cursed loudly. Yohji really did not do mornings well, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and curl up next to the man, but, well . . . he had to get this finished.
Sighing, he turned his attention back to the arrangement.
And blinked.
Oh. That's what was missing.
Carefully selecting one budding tulip from the pile next to him, Aya slotted it into place in the centre of the arrangement. Looking at it, he smiled, and got up.
His bed – and Yohji – were calling him.
------
Told you it was pointless. :P
Started: 9:01
Finished: 9:13
Word count: 377
by Anria
It was . . . incomplete.
Aya stared down at the arrangement on the table in front of him, and frowned. There was something off about it, something wrong – but he couldn't quite tell what.
It annoyed the crap out of him.
The back door rattled as it opened, pulling his attention from the flowers to the door. Yohji stumbled in, bleary-eyed and yawning as he scratched at the day's worth of stubble on his chin. It was probably his Eurasian background that gave him a stronger growth of beard than Aya – he only had to shave once every couple of days, if that.
Yohji peered at him blearily out of one eye, a little smile curling his lips. "There you are," he said, managing to circumvent the cluttered floor space to wrap his arms around Aya. Yohji's large hand curled up under Aya's shirt, pressing gently into his stomach. "Oi, leave that thing alone, will you? You've been working on it since yesterday," he complained. "It's six in the morning. Come back to bed."
"It's not finished," Aya muttered, feeling oddly embarrassed. Yohji was warm against the pre-heater chill of the shop, and he melted back gratefully into the older man's chest.
He felt more than heard Yohji sigh, and tipped his head up dutifully when the blond's free hand cupped his chin. Yohji's kiss was warm, and soft, and tasted like home.
"Ten minutes, okay?" Yohji murmured against his lips. "Then I'm coming to get you."
It made him feel warm, to know that someone understood him that much.
Aya watched as Yohji left, stretching as he walked. A small smile flickered around his lips as the taller man tripped over a flowerpot and cursed loudly. Yohji really did not do mornings well, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and curl up next to the man, but, well . . . he had to get this finished.
Sighing, he turned his attention back to the arrangement.
And blinked.
Oh. That's what was missing.
Carefully selecting one budding tulip from the pile next to him, Aya slotted it into place in the centre of the arrangement. Looking at it, he smiled, and got up.
His bed – and Yohji – were calling him.
------
Told you it was pointless. :P