The Honeymooners- Chapter 18
Title: The Honeymooners
Series: KKM
Rating: R
Pairing: Yuuram, OC x OC
Warnings: cursing, yaoi, not much else this chapter
Summary: Wolfram doesn't like this kind of peasant food lol
We sleep late into the morning on the next day. Both of us are a little irked at ourselves for not thinking to clean up before we went to sleep. I wake up and try to roll over, only to find my body glued to the sheets from dried semen.
After managing to rip my naked flesh from the soiled linens, I help Yuuri do the same and we take the sheets off the bed and throw them in a nearby hamper.
Today is our last full day on our Honeymoon. Tomorrow, Otou-san (Yuuri’s Dad) is coming to pick us up in the early afternoon. So, Yuuri and I decided to make today a lazy, slow day. The only thing we have planned is the photo with Anrui and Yamato.
We have a long shower together. The only reason it was long was because it was filled with drawn out lazy kisses and subtle groping. We settle on getting out when the water starts to chill.
When the time comes to get dressed, Yuuri starts to panic a little. He rustles through one of our bags, mumbling to himself. I’m sure he’s nervous about what to wear for the photo.
“Calm down, Yuuri.” I command dully, walking up behind him and standing with my knuckles on my hips.
He twists his neck so he can frown at me, fatigue obvious in his ebony eyes. “I don’t want to wear something that will make the photo look bad. You know how arty they are.”
I grab his forearm and haul him to his feet. “Then let me choose our clothes, ok?”
He nods compliantly.
For him, I choose a pair of light wash jeans and cornflower blue T-shirt with some red lettering on it. I don’t have much clothing, only the things Yuuri has handed down to me from before he got taller and fuller.
For me, I put on a pair of khaki pants and pastel purple button down shirt. When I found this shirt in Yuuri’s closet, it still had the purchase tag on it. Apparently, his mother had bought it for him for his birthday the previous year but he refused to wear it. That’s ok, it suits me better.
He frowns at the purple shirt out of disgust. “Oh Please, it’s not like I’m asking you to wear it. I like this shirt.”
“Of course you would…”
He treats some colors like they’re enemies. Supposedly it’s some sort of macho, Earthian ideal to dislike ‘feminine’ colors like pink, purple, or even yellow. Screw him, I like those colors.
“Stop being immature, let’s get going.” I bark, forcing his t-shirt over his head and stalking out of the room.
He groans, pulling his t-shirt on the rest of the way and scampering after me. We walk up the beach, hand in hand. We don’t go to the usual café because we don’t want to run into our older friends. Not that we don’t like them, we would just rather spend our last day alone as much as possible.
Since it’s nearing lunchtime, we opt to skip breakfast all together. Yuuri spots this greasy looking joint across the street and pulls me towards it with vigor. It’s not that this place looks seedy, just unclean. I’m not a big fan of things that are dirty.
“Oh this is great, I’ve been wanting a hamburger,” he says, his voice twittering with happiness.
I don’t want to bring him down but the scent of charred meat and grease fills my nose and I almost feet queasy. “Yuuri…are you sure?” I ask, trying to make the disgust I feel as obvious as possible.
But we all know Yuuri, and obvious things are the things he notices the least. He drags me into the restaurant and sits me down in a heavily cushioned booth. I put my hands on the table and it is slick with humidity and built up grease. I stick my tongue out of my mouth and scowl as I reach for a napkin to clean my hands with.
The waitress saunters over, leaning one grubby hand on the table. He pulls a pad of paper and pen out of the pouch on her apron and asks in a voice hindered by the chewing gum in her mouth, “What would ya like, boys?”
Yuuri smiles genially at her, asking for two hamburgers and two sodas. She jots it down quickly and winks, “It’ll be out soon, sweetie.” Yuuri thanks her and she walks off again, swinging her hips a little more drastically, looking over her shoulder to see if Yuuri is watching.
This woman is grotesque. This entire place is a complete dive! What is Yuuri thinking, bringing me here?
I growl, folding my arms, trying desperately to keep any part of me from touching the table. Yuuri starts talking to me about something but I ignore him. It’s not difficult considering how fucking loud this place is.
After I don’t respond for about 3 minutes he finally asks me what’s wrong. I humph at him and whip my head to the side, closing my eyes and pursing my lips.
“What did I do now?” he asks wearily, slumping onto his upturned palms.
I glare at him from the corner of my eye, “You brought me to this gross place.”
He sighs loudly, idly rubbing the back of his neck. “Aww c’mon, Wolfram. It’s not so bad. You might even really like hamburgers.”
I don’t respond to that, I just continue to pout until the waitress returns with a tray. She practically tosses the tray onto the table with a clatter. Miraculously, nothing spills. The soda barely even ripples in the glass.
“Here ya go, hunny. Just gimme a call if you need anything,” she finishes with another wink. I think I want to stab her in that eye so she can’t wink anymore.
Yuuri nods to the lady, looks over at me, and then shakes his head at me before reaching for his oily meal. He eats it with vitality, taking bites big enough to fill his cheeks. He chews happily, eyes closed while he enjoys the taste of his meal.
Even though I am disgusted with the atmosphere, I’m too hungry to not eat, so I reach for my sandwich. When I pick it up, it starts to fall apart in my hands. Pickles and tomatoes slip out the sides and onto my plate. I ‘eep’ and try to bring it to my mouth as quickly as possible to prevent it from dilapidating any further.
I take a small bit, and hope that it’s better than I thought it would be. Alas, the taste of this meal matches how I feel about this entire restaurant. There is a culinary horror residing in my mouth, soaking in my saliva. It’s salty, chewy, tangy, and burnt. I can taste the ketchup and the pickles and the mustard all at once and it just doesn’t work for me. I force it down my throat and place this food disaster back onto my plate.
Yuuri stops in his veritable orgy of eating when he notices my distaste. “You don’t like it?” he questions after swallowing a mouthful of meat.
I gulp down as much soda as is required to wash the taste from my mouth then shake my head as a ‘no’. He gives me a lopsided grimace, putting his sandwich down on the plate. “I’m sorry, we can go somewhere else…”
“Just finish your food, ok?” I grunt, sipping at what’s left of my soda.
He does as I told him, eating his food solemnly until he’s full.
The grubby waitress returns when she sees Yuuri’s empty plate from across the barlike island where tall stools hold eagerly eating customers. “All set, darlin’? Here’s your bill, I’ll take it whenever you’re ready,” with another infuriating wink, she sashays off to another customer who is flagging her down.
I find myself growling audibly, staring at the plump back and rump of that pretentious woman. “Are you growling?” Yuuri asks in awed hush, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand.
I refocus my gaze on him, my eyes occasionally darting back at the insufferable waitress. “I don’t like her…” I mutter, tightening my grip on his hand.
He smiles tolerably at me, a chuckle playing on the tip of his lips.
He plunges his free hand into his pocket, digging around a little until he extracts a rolled up wad of money. He plops the dirty ball of paper on and unfurls it, pulling the bills out that he wants and laying them on the check. After putting the rest of his money back in his pocket, that hand joins his other on mine.
“Alrighty, I’ll just take this for you…” The waitress had returned and now had a genuinely surprised look on her face. Her black eyes, outlined in black make-up that made her face look racoonish, stared unwaveringly at Yuuri’s hand covering mine.
She carefully lifts the money off the table, a blush staining her wrinkled face. After blinking vehemently, she counts the amount Yuuri gave her and fishes the change out of the pouch in her apron. “Here’s your change, dear. You have a nice day.”
This time, there is no farewell wink on her behalf, just a small, knowing smile and contrite bow. Damn straight, woman. Yuuri is mine.
Yuuri gets out of his seat and helps me out of mine. We leave the restaurant hand in hand. I cast one last evil look over my shoulder, only to see the woman sending a warm smile my way through the window. Goddam it!
“Wolfram, you’re growling again…”
Series: KKM
Rating: R
Pairing: Yuuram, OC x OC
Warnings: cursing, yaoi, not much else this chapter
Summary: Wolfram doesn't like this kind of peasant food lol
We sleep late into the morning on the next day. Both of us are a little irked at ourselves for not thinking to clean up before we went to sleep. I wake up and try to roll over, only to find my body glued to the sheets from dried semen.
After managing to rip my naked flesh from the soiled linens, I help Yuuri do the same and we take the sheets off the bed and throw them in a nearby hamper.
Today is our last full day on our Honeymoon. Tomorrow, Otou-san (Yuuri’s Dad) is coming to pick us up in the early afternoon. So, Yuuri and I decided to make today a lazy, slow day. The only thing we have planned is the photo with Anrui and Yamato.
We have a long shower together. The only reason it was long was because it was filled with drawn out lazy kisses and subtle groping. We settle on getting out when the water starts to chill.
When the time comes to get dressed, Yuuri starts to panic a little. He rustles through one of our bags, mumbling to himself. I’m sure he’s nervous about what to wear for the photo.
“Calm down, Yuuri.” I command dully, walking up behind him and standing with my knuckles on my hips.
He twists his neck so he can frown at me, fatigue obvious in his ebony eyes. “I don’t want to wear something that will make the photo look bad. You know how arty they are.”
I grab his forearm and haul him to his feet. “Then let me choose our clothes, ok?”
He nods compliantly.
For him, I choose a pair of light wash jeans and cornflower blue T-shirt with some red lettering on it. I don’t have much clothing, only the things Yuuri has handed down to me from before he got taller and fuller.
For me, I put on a pair of khaki pants and pastel purple button down shirt. When I found this shirt in Yuuri’s closet, it still had the purchase tag on it. Apparently, his mother had bought it for him for his birthday the previous year but he refused to wear it. That’s ok, it suits me better.
He frowns at the purple shirt out of disgust. “Oh Please, it’s not like I’m asking you to wear it. I like this shirt.”
“Of course you would…”
He treats some colors like they’re enemies. Supposedly it’s some sort of macho, Earthian ideal to dislike ‘feminine’ colors like pink, purple, or even yellow. Screw him, I like those colors.
“Stop being immature, let’s get going.” I bark, forcing his t-shirt over his head and stalking out of the room.
He groans, pulling his t-shirt on the rest of the way and scampering after me. We walk up the beach, hand in hand. We don’t go to the usual café because we don’t want to run into our older friends. Not that we don’t like them, we would just rather spend our last day alone as much as possible.
Since it’s nearing lunchtime, we opt to skip breakfast all together. Yuuri spots this greasy looking joint across the street and pulls me towards it with vigor. It’s not that this place looks seedy, just unclean. I’m not a big fan of things that are dirty.
“Oh this is great, I’ve been wanting a hamburger,” he says, his voice twittering with happiness.
I don’t want to bring him down but the scent of charred meat and grease fills my nose and I almost feet queasy. “Yuuri…are you sure?” I ask, trying to make the disgust I feel as obvious as possible.
But we all know Yuuri, and obvious things are the things he notices the least. He drags me into the restaurant and sits me down in a heavily cushioned booth. I put my hands on the table and it is slick with humidity and built up grease. I stick my tongue out of my mouth and scowl as I reach for a napkin to clean my hands with.
The waitress saunters over, leaning one grubby hand on the table. He pulls a pad of paper and pen out of the pouch on her apron and asks in a voice hindered by the chewing gum in her mouth, “What would ya like, boys?”
Yuuri smiles genially at her, asking for two hamburgers and two sodas. She jots it down quickly and winks, “It’ll be out soon, sweetie.” Yuuri thanks her and she walks off again, swinging her hips a little more drastically, looking over her shoulder to see if Yuuri is watching.
This woman is grotesque. This entire place is a complete dive! What is Yuuri thinking, bringing me here?
I growl, folding my arms, trying desperately to keep any part of me from touching the table. Yuuri starts talking to me about something but I ignore him. It’s not difficult considering how fucking loud this place is.
After I don’t respond for about 3 minutes he finally asks me what’s wrong. I humph at him and whip my head to the side, closing my eyes and pursing my lips.
“What did I do now?” he asks wearily, slumping onto his upturned palms.
I glare at him from the corner of my eye, “You brought me to this gross place.”
He sighs loudly, idly rubbing the back of his neck. “Aww c’mon, Wolfram. It’s not so bad. You might even really like hamburgers.”
I don’t respond to that, I just continue to pout until the waitress returns with a tray. She practically tosses the tray onto the table with a clatter. Miraculously, nothing spills. The soda barely even ripples in the glass.
“Here ya go, hunny. Just gimme a call if you need anything,” she finishes with another wink. I think I want to stab her in that eye so she can’t wink anymore.
Yuuri nods to the lady, looks over at me, and then shakes his head at me before reaching for his oily meal. He eats it with vitality, taking bites big enough to fill his cheeks. He chews happily, eyes closed while he enjoys the taste of his meal.
Even though I am disgusted with the atmosphere, I’m too hungry to not eat, so I reach for my sandwich. When I pick it up, it starts to fall apart in my hands. Pickles and tomatoes slip out the sides and onto my plate. I ‘eep’ and try to bring it to my mouth as quickly as possible to prevent it from dilapidating any further.
I take a small bit, and hope that it’s better than I thought it would be. Alas, the taste of this meal matches how I feel about this entire restaurant. There is a culinary horror residing in my mouth, soaking in my saliva. It’s salty, chewy, tangy, and burnt. I can taste the ketchup and the pickles and the mustard all at once and it just doesn’t work for me. I force it down my throat and place this food disaster back onto my plate.
Yuuri stops in his veritable orgy of eating when he notices my distaste. “You don’t like it?” he questions after swallowing a mouthful of meat.
I gulp down as much soda as is required to wash the taste from my mouth then shake my head as a ‘no’. He gives me a lopsided grimace, putting his sandwich down on the plate. “I’m sorry, we can go somewhere else…”
“Just finish your food, ok?” I grunt, sipping at what’s left of my soda.
He does as I told him, eating his food solemnly until he’s full.
The grubby waitress returns when she sees Yuuri’s empty plate from across the barlike island where tall stools hold eagerly eating customers. “All set, darlin’? Here’s your bill, I’ll take it whenever you’re ready,” with another infuriating wink, she sashays off to another customer who is flagging her down.
I find myself growling audibly, staring at the plump back and rump of that pretentious woman. “Are you growling?” Yuuri asks in awed hush, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand.
I refocus my gaze on him, my eyes occasionally darting back at the insufferable waitress. “I don’t like her…” I mutter, tightening my grip on his hand.
He smiles tolerably at me, a chuckle playing on the tip of his lips.
He plunges his free hand into his pocket, digging around a little until he extracts a rolled up wad of money. He plops the dirty ball of paper on and unfurls it, pulling the bills out that he wants and laying them on the check. After putting the rest of his money back in his pocket, that hand joins his other on mine.
“Alrighty, I’ll just take this for you…” The waitress had returned and now had a genuinely surprised look on her face. Her black eyes, outlined in black make-up that made her face look racoonish, stared unwaveringly at Yuuri’s hand covering mine.
She carefully lifts the money off the table, a blush staining her wrinkled face. After blinking vehemently, she counts the amount Yuuri gave her and fishes the change out of the pouch in her apron. “Here’s your change, dear. You have a nice day.”
This time, there is no farewell wink on her behalf, just a small, knowing smile and contrite bow. Damn straight, woman. Yuuri is mine.
Yuuri gets out of his seat and helps me out of mine. We leave the restaurant hand in hand. I cast one last evil look over my shoulder, only to see the woman sending a warm smile my way through the window. Goddam it!
“Wolfram, you’re growling again…”