sundays will never change [yasamu x savois]
Omfg HET! O_____O
*coughs*
Here was my humble attempt at something straight (*GASP!*) and fluffy (*DOUBLE GASP!*). Call it my bid to keep the boys in my audience without completely breaking their brains. >3
Song: "Sundays Will Never Change," from I'm Not a Gun.
Sundays Will Never Change.
Savois Montessi woke up to a perfect day. A combination of several things merited this title, some of which happened to be sunlight peeking out from the curtains, Minoru plunking out a random tune from his practice book on the piano, and Yasamu Shinta fast asleep beside her. The woman raised herself up to gaze down at her beloved, noting the careless toss of his arm in the space she had risen from and the way the morning light defined the smoothness and angles of his face, his body and the quiet rise and fall of his chest. She was the only one in the world who had the novelty of seeing Isherwood University’s headmaster without his suits and hair gel and tinted glasses and cologne. With the way the man conducted himself in the world beyond their home, one would think he was carved from ice. Savois alone knew the warmth of his skin, and the weight of affection in his gaze. Most days she found it difficult not to be smug about it with him, and anyone else who knew. She stifled a giggle at that thought, and prepared to slide out of bed and call for one of the maids to bring them breakfast. It was then that a hand snagged her wrist and a quietly drawn breath faded into a sigh.
“…Please tell me it isn’t morning yet.”
“No such luck, darling.”
Yasamu made a frustrated sound that was somewhere between a growl and a sleepy mumble as Savois turned about to face him with a smile that was nearly as bright as sunshine. Those violet eyes that she loved gazing into were hazed and unfocused, lost in whatever he had been dreaming about. She took this opportunity to laugh and tweak his nose.
“Did I ever tell you how adorable you look when you’re utterly befuddled?” she bent down to kiss the frown on his face before getting up, gathering her blanket about her naked form and walking towards the phone by the windowsill. “Wait a moment as I get my owl of a husband something to eat.”
Yasamu said nothing as he traced Savois across the room, and watched her exchange some words with the maids in the kitchen over a crescendo of piano notes floating up from the living room downstairs. Her hair had smelled of sandalwood when she had kissed him, and her breath of mint. She was beautiful whether he was admiring her from a distance or holding her in his arms as they tangled together beneath the sheets or met each other halfway through swift glances and quick embraces whenever their busy schedules would allow.
…No wonder Hikaru teases you for being such a sap.
Yasamu sat up in bed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, half-thankful that his younger brother had never been given the opportunity to come across him that lax in the past.
“Minoru is the one playing, isn’t he?”
“Mm-hm. The latest teacher we’ve hired for him has done much better than the others. He likes her better also… I haven’t heard a single complaint about him playing any pranks, and it’s been nearly two weeks.”
“We should call the Guinness for that.”
“I agree.”
Their conversation continued over coffee and French toast, with Yasamu and Savois taking turns spreading the jam (strawberry for Yasamu, apricot for Savois) and feeding each other. “I still wonder where our son got his mischievous streak from,” Savois murmured, eyes gleaming as she fed a piece of toast to her husband. “I doubt it’s your brother. He rarely comes around these days.”
“Well, it can’t be me.”
“Why not?”
“There isn’t a funny bone in my body. Weren’t you the one who told me that?”
“I beg to differ,” Savois evenly returned, wagging the butter knife in her hand at Yasamu for emphasis. “I only said you tote around like a grumpy dwarf most days, that’s all. Returning to the matter of your brother, though, are you still up for meeting with him and Mikhail at the mall today? We can bring Minoru along.”
“You never get tired of shocking people, my dear.”
Savois merely beamed. Yasamu sipped his coffee, remembering the first time Mikhail Kaledin, his brother’s boyfriend, had discovered the truth about him and Savois and how they had a five-year-old son that looked just like his father. Hikaru still bent over laughing whenever he told the story to people.
At least he’s smiling again. I can only wonder how Alistair feels about that.
“Thinking, thinking, always thinking! Whatever can I do to get you to kick that habit?”
His beloved was waving another piece of toast at him right under his nose. The smile on her face never wavered. Yasamu bit into it obligingly, but not before allowing a rare smile of his own to grace his lips.
“So then. We’re going?”
“Yes.”
You, me, and our son.
*coughs*
Here was my humble attempt at something straight (*GASP!*) and fluffy (*DOUBLE GASP!*). Call it my bid to keep the boys in my audience without completely breaking their brains. >3
Song: "Sundays Will Never Change," from I'm Not a Gun.
Sundays Will Never Change.
Savois Montessi woke up to a perfect day. A combination of several things merited this title, some of which happened to be sunlight peeking out from the curtains, Minoru plunking out a random tune from his practice book on the piano, and Yasamu Shinta fast asleep beside her. The woman raised herself up to gaze down at her beloved, noting the careless toss of his arm in the space she had risen from and the way the morning light defined the smoothness and angles of his face, his body and the quiet rise and fall of his chest. She was the only one in the world who had the novelty of seeing Isherwood University’s headmaster without his suits and hair gel and tinted glasses and cologne. With the way the man conducted himself in the world beyond their home, one would think he was carved from ice. Savois alone knew the warmth of his skin, and the weight of affection in his gaze. Most days she found it difficult not to be smug about it with him, and anyone else who knew. She stifled a giggle at that thought, and prepared to slide out of bed and call for one of the maids to bring them breakfast. It was then that a hand snagged her wrist and a quietly drawn breath faded into a sigh.
“…Please tell me it isn’t morning yet.”
“No such luck, darling.”
Yasamu made a frustrated sound that was somewhere between a growl and a sleepy mumble as Savois turned about to face him with a smile that was nearly as bright as sunshine. Those violet eyes that she loved gazing into were hazed and unfocused, lost in whatever he had been dreaming about. She took this opportunity to laugh and tweak his nose.
“Did I ever tell you how adorable you look when you’re utterly befuddled?” she bent down to kiss the frown on his face before getting up, gathering her blanket about her naked form and walking towards the phone by the windowsill. “Wait a moment as I get my owl of a husband something to eat.”
Yasamu said nothing as he traced Savois across the room, and watched her exchange some words with the maids in the kitchen over a crescendo of piano notes floating up from the living room downstairs. Her hair had smelled of sandalwood when she had kissed him, and her breath of mint. She was beautiful whether he was admiring her from a distance or holding her in his arms as they tangled together beneath the sheets or met each other halfway through swift glances and quick embraces whenever their busy schedules would allow.
…No wonder Hikaru teases you for being such a sap.
Yasamu sat up in bed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, half-thankful that his younger brother had never been given the opportunity to come across him that lax in the past.
“Minoru is the one playing, isn’t he?”
“Mm-hm. The latest teacher we’ve hired for him has done much better than the others. He likes her better also… I haven’t heard a single complaint about him playing any pranks, and it’s been nearly two weeks.”
“We should call the Guinness for that.”
“I agree.”
Their conversation continued over coffee and French toast, with Yasamu and Savois taking turns spreading the jam (strawberry for Yasamu, apricot for Savois) and feeding each other. “I still wonder where our son got his mischievous streak from,” Savois murmured, eyes gleaming as she fed a piece of toast to her husband. “I doubt it’s your brother. He rarely comes around these days.”
“Well, it can’t be me.”
“Why not?”
“There isn’t a funny bone in my body. Weren’t you the one who told me that?”
“I beg to differ,” Savois evenly returned, wagging the butter knife in her hand at Yasamu for emphasis. “I only said you tote around like a grumpy dwarf most days, that’s all. Returning to the matter of your brother, though, are you still up for meeting with him and Mikhail at the mall today? We can bring Minoru along.”
“You never get tired of shocking people, my dear.”
Savois merely beamed. Yasamu sipped his coffee, remembering the first time Mikhail Kaledin, his brother’s boyfriend, had discovered the truth about him and Savois and how they had a five-year-old son that looked just like his father. Hikaru still bent over laughing whenever he told the story to people.
At least he’s smiling again. I can only wonder how Alistair feels about that.
“Thinking, thinking, always thinking! Whatever can I do to get you to kick that habit?”
His beloved was waving another piece of toast at him right under his nose. The smile on her face never wavered. Yasamu bit into it obligingly, but not before allowing a rare smile of his own to grace his lips.
“So then. We’re going?”
“Yes.”
You, me, and our son.