FIC - Speculate [Subassan]
May. 9th, 2007 09:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zukkokyaToday was a drowsy day, so I present a DROWSY DRABBLE! One of three, so far. Next up is either TegoMass or Takki/Tsubasa.
I LOVE YOU, SUBARU. ♥!!!
*skips off*
Title: Speculate
Rating: PG
Pairing: Subaru/Yasu
Summary: Before Yasu can step out of the shirt (as he looks tempted to try), Subaru invites himself to play touch tester.
Subaru tried on three shirts, dismissed all of them and now focuses on hindering Yasu. He stands next to the mirror, swiping clawed fingers at and pretending to bite Yasu’s reflection. Yasu cheerfully retaliates with a projectile belt or hat, each of which Subaru dons solemnly before continuing his mission of torment. By the ten minute mark, he’s wearing six belt-necklaces, three hats stacked on top of each other and a tartan scarf knotted around his bicep. He’s planning on catching the next hat with his head like a ring-toss.
Yasu’s current shirt looks soft, if eccentrically tailored. When Yasu pulls on the collar, it drops off his shoulder. It would probably slide right off Subaru altogether. Still, the fabric looks expensive, like silk. When Yasu lifts and drops the hem experimentally, the shirt ripples like it’s melting.
That’s too much to resist. Before Yasu can step out of the shirt (as he looks tempted to try), Subaru invites himself to play touch tester. He skims his hands down Yasu’s back, feeling the fabric cling hot and smooth to his palms. Yasu laughs, and Subaru grins. He flicks the shirt up and rests his hands on Yasu’s hips, his chin on Yasu’s shoulder. Yasu copies his position. His fingers squeeze Subaru’s hips, his throat vibrating with an absent hum against Subaru’s shoulder.
The mirrors multiply their reflection by the hundreds. Subaru’s amused at how they’ll sometimes wander into these intimate, aesthetic moments that photographers struggle regularly to replicate. They do it in candid shots and in deliberately-positioned photo shoots. People must be curious—how much of it is artificial?
Based on their reflection, Subaru speculates about himself and Yasu the way an observer would. Close friends, definitely. They’re relaxed comfortably against one another, and Subaru’s thumbs slowly skate over Yasu’s hipbones. They could be lovers. If not now, then soon. Yasu’s eyes are closed, his mouth dry and warm and inadvertently? on Subaru’s neck. Lovers, then. Lovers for sure.
Subaru doesn’t know what strangers see. Subaru can only see his world one way. He can’t know what he is to others, the emotions he inspires in his fans, in his friends, in his family. He can’t know the pride, the affection, the admiration or the shy adoration.
The Subaru he sees is unique to himself. So the Yasu he sees must also be unique. No one else sees his Yasu.
In the mirror: Yasu’s hair is light, and Subaru’s is dark. Yasu wears jeans and a silky shirt that hangs off one shoulder, and Subaru wears a black T-shirt, jeans, six belts, three hats and a tartan scarf. Yasu is shorter, Subaru is smaller. They’re close enough to hug, but their hands remain on each other’s hips. They’re friends? Lovers?
Subaru thinks it’s not important what they look like, really. They’re the way they want to be, but the mirror can’t show that.
I LOVE YOU, SUBARU. ♥!!!
*skips off*
Title: Speculate
Rating: PG
Pairing: Subaru/Yasu
Summary: Before Yasu can step out of the shirt (as he looks tempted to try), Subaru invites himself to play touch tester.
Subaru tried on three shirts, dismissed all of them and now focuses on hindering Yasu. He stands next to the mirror, swiping clawed fingers at and pretending to bite Yasu’s reflection. Yasu cheerfully retaliates with a projectile belt or hat, each of which Subaru dons solemnly before continuing his mission of torment. By the ten minute mark, he’s wearing six belt-necklaces, three hats stacked on top of each other and a tartan scarf knotted around his bicep. He’s planning on catching the next hat with his head like a ring-toss.
Yasu’s current shirt looks soft, if eccentrically tailored. When Yasu pulls on the collar, it drops off his shoulder. It would probably slide right off Subaru altogether. Still, the fabric looks expensive, like silk. When Yasu lifts and drops the hem experimentally, the shirt ripples like it’s melting.
That’s too much to resist. Before Yasu can step out of the shirt (as he looks tempted to try), Subaru invites himself to play touch tester. He skims his hands down Yasu’s back, feeling the fabric cling hot and smooth to his palms. Yasu laughs, and Subaru grins. He flicks the shirt up and rests his hands on Yasu’s hips, his chin on Yasu’s shoulder. Yasu copies his position. His fingers squeeze Subaru’s hips, his throat vibrating with an absent hum against Subaru’s shoulder.
The mirrors multiply their reflection by the hundreds. Subaru’s amused at how they’ll sometimes wander into these intimate, aesthetic moments that photographers struggle regularly to replicate. They do it in candid shots and in deliberately-positioned photo shoots. People must be curious—how much of it is artificial?
Based on their reflection, Subaru speculates about himself and Yasu the way an observer would. Close friends, definitely. They’re relaxed comfortably against one another, and Subaru’s thumbs slowly skate over Yasu’s hipbones. They could be lovers. If not now, then soon. Yasu’s eyes are closed, his mouth dry and warm and inadvertently? on Subaru’s neck. Lovers, then. Lovers for sure.
Subaru doesn’t know what strangers see. Subaru can only see his world one way. He can’t know what he is to others, the emotions he inspires in his fans, in his friends, in his family. He can’t know the pride, the affection, the admiration or the shy adoration.
The Subaru he sees is unique to himself. So the Yasu he sees must also be unique. No one else sees his Yasu.
In the mirror: Yasu’s hair is light, and Subaru’s is dark. Yasu wears jeans and a silky shirt that hangs off one shoulder, and Subaru wears a black T-shirt, jeans, six belts, three hats and a tartan scarf. Yasu is shorter, Subaru is smaller. They’re close enough to hug, but their hands remain on each other’s hips. They’re friends? Lovers?
Subaru thinks it’s not important what they look like, really. They’re the way they want to be, but the mirror can’t show that.
