| [Nov. 2nd, 2013|03:58 am] |
She hesitated for a moment, then edged back into his personal space. Not the bright, brassy Katsuko who’d casually throw her legs across anyone’s lap, or take complete possession of the office couch; this was slow and careful, as if she was still afraid he’d take offense and kick her out into the hall.
There were moments for gentleness, and then there was the time to re-establish normality. He brought a knee up and thumped it against her hip, jostling her hold on her udon bowl. Only quick hands saved her dinner from flying up the wall.
He grinned at her. “Stop stalking me like a baby deer and come over already, I’m not going to spook.”
She blinked once, then turned a hot, offended glare on him and invaded his personal bubble like a miniature army of one-woman wrath. A brief flurry of jostling followed, and a yelp—his this time, when a sharp elbow caught him somewhere uncomfortable and his tea almost upended—then things settled as Strawberry Pie’s title card rolled. Katsuko half-lay against his side, legs stretched out, head resting against his ribcage, food stockpiled carefully within reach. She cradled her mug of tea between her hands, like a warm pilot light.
At this angle, he couldn’t really hug her anymore, but he could drop one hand down to settle on her head, carding gentle fingers through her hair.
She sighed and settled more heavily against him.
Raidou wasn’t prone to flashbacks; he’d done his time in the war, and he’d done his time with counsellors afterwards. His psyche was as stitched, buffed, and healthy as he could make it. But every now and then, something popped up to yank him back into the foxholes. This time it wasn’t so bad, just a fleeting memory of mud under his back, cold pressing down on his face, and the weight of comrades on both sides, trying to sleep through the dark.
It hadn’t been strange then. It had just been survival.
Compared to that, he’d take fast food, a movie, indoor plumbing, and a quasi-comfortable bed in a heartbeat, and open it up to anyone else who needed it. Especially Katsuko.
He refocused to find her looking up at him, eyebrows quirked. His hand had fallen away from her head. He picked it back up, rumpling her hair, and said, “Better?”
“I’m good,” she said, though her eyelids were at sleepy half-mast. “Are you good?” |
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