love: 05. lingering touches against the others face. (for yugao)
She dreams of a field of wildflowers, quiet in the night. Sasanqua, fringed irises and tiger lillies, little snake gourds and tulips-- the plants prickle at the nape of her neck when she lays back, so she sits up and curls an arm around her knees in that field. The heat of summer has started to fall away. She touches the silk-soft petals of an iris, slim and delicate and pretty. Gentle, lovable. Feminine.
Yugao looks away from the flowers to watch the tree line. Deer with heavy antlers stay well away from the exposure of the center of the clearing, their eyes glowing in the reflection of the moon like pretty silver coins, locking on her, dismissing her as part of the landscape. In the distance, something canine calls, and as one the deer all lift their heads and scent the wind. The call fades. They return to their graze.
What a strange dream, she thinks.
She lays back into the flowers, arms spread out and hair tangling with the stems, and she lays there for a while watching the clouds drift over the moon and cast great shadows on the clearing. There are footsteps, steadily drawing closer. Her eyes fall closed.
There is something touching her cheek. It's cool, and it trails down her cheek, across her jaw. Three little familiar points. She wrestles her eyes open, blinking blearily in the low light of Hayate's bedroom-- his face drifts into view above her, and when their eyes lock he offers her a crooked smile.
"Good... morning?" she tries, her voice hoarse from sleep. When it crackles, she groans in embarrassment, turning onto her side like she's trying to hide her face from him.
"Um," he says, tucking the curtain of her thick hair behind her ear and trailing his fingers over her cheekbone again, taptaptapping his fingers until she shifts, curling around his back as best she can, pressing her cheek to his thigh. His legs hang off the edge of the bed, and he pats her hip with his other hand before it shifts into brushing her hair into some semblance of order. Or maybe he's messing it up more, it's not like she can tell. "It's around midnight, actually."
"Oh," she replies softly, turning her face into his hand. There was something odd about the dream she'd been having, but she can't cling to it, not with Hayate settled at the edge of the bed radiating night-cold in his uniform. "Are you going to come to bed?"
She doesn't have to look at him to hear the amusement in his tone when he replies: "Yes," though she's not sure what was so funny about the question.
"Get your uniform off," Yugao demands sleepily, shifting away so she can plant her foot at the small of his back and push him off the bed.
He laughs, and she rolls onto her back to squint at the ceiling and watch the faint flicker of his shadow in the moonlight from the window as he undresses, before slipping back into bed with her. They roll to face each other at the same time, and share a secret smile in the dim light. His hands return to her face, cupping her jaw and brushing his thumbs gently beneath her eyes.
"Hayate..." She starts, trailing a finger down his bicep. "Did you wash your hands before you started touching my face?"
He freezes, not-quite guilty, and replies, ".... Yes?"
Yugao's brow twitches, but she doesn't do much more than settle her hands on his wrists and pull his down to her shoulders. "You're going to make me break out," she complains, "it's hard enough to keep my skin under control wearing a mask all the time."
"Sorry," he says, leaning forward to kiss her on the lips, then the tender skin at the corner of her eye. Gentle, like the brush of a moth's wing. "Were you dreaming, when I woke you?"
She tucks her face against his collarbone, throwing an arm over his waist and slipping a leg between his thighs with a soft sigh. "Mhmmm," she's already half asleep again, "Don't remember what about."
"Okay," Hayate whispers, kissing the top of her head and settling into stillness. His skin is cool from the night too, and he's thin enough to be bony, but she's never felt anything but safe sleeping under his arm. "Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep."
My friends are kinda strange / I think they're awfully sweet
