[Pippa] Days Like This
Days Like This
PG-13; Yara/Yamamoto; AU.
For kuro-chin, otsukare! This is not the essay I should be writing, nor is it any of the fics I owe other people. Wheeeee~ \8D/
He woke just as the blue mist of dawn began its reluctant retreat across the land, leaving dew-soaked grass in its wake. The night had been cold and his blanket had slipped down the bed as he slept. It was the cold that woke him, and the stiff ache of complaining muscles still unused to the slow cooling of the year, as summer slowly meandered its way into autumn. If it had not been so close to dawn Yara would have reached for his blanket and curled back up underneath it. As it was, the thin curtains he had failed to draw fully closed the night before let pale light into his room and Yara sat upright, brow crinkling as he frowned against the dawn. Feet set down softly on the wooden floorboards; the bed creaked; there was the soft sound of cloth against skin as Yara quickly dressed, and then the quiet clack as he opened the door out and into the hallway.
The view from the front door as soon as Yara stepped outside was of the tree-smothered hillside some way in the distance, where the chalky downs rose up to form a plateau further inland. The mist only reached a certain distance up the hillside before it could crawl no further, and was now steadily seeping away, leaving trails of greyish-white to lace among the treetops as the sunlight began to nudge its way over the horizon and flood the valley with soft light. Yara did not pause long to admire the view; it was one he had seen countless times before, but despite its familiarity he couldn't help but feel slightly lighter, slightly more at peace.
Around to the back of the house, with fishing rod and tackle in hand, Yara trudged down the gravel path to where the sea whispered against the shore with a hush, hush that did more to wake him than lull him to sleep. The mist was fading fast, the ground heavy with dew that soaked the waterproof exterior of Yara's boots but he walked on regardless, pace quickening as he reached the steeper incline that led toward the beach.
The Chura was waiting for him on the pebbles, pulled up past the high tide markers, her tarpaulin wet with dew. Yara set his fishing gear down by the side of the small boat and pulled back the tarp, sending the gathered dew to spray onto the pebbles before stowing the stiffened cloth and setting the rod and tackle inside her small hull and beginning to tug her down toward the water's edge.
He heard running footsteps struggling across the pebble beach, the kssh kssh kssh loud even over the sighing waves and the grumble of the Chura as her painted exterior inched down the beach behind him. Yara didn't look up; he knew to whom the footsteps belonged; he knew whose panting breaths made puffs of white air as familiar fishing tackle and a familiar basket of food were flung into the hull beside Yara's own possessions. Yamamoto grabbed at the Chura and gave Yara a fleeting grin as he helped pull the small boat to the water's edge. As her bow hit the water they pushed harder, before throwing themselves into the boat with an ease borne of practice. The oars lay along the bottom of the boat and with synchronised movements they grabbed one apiece, slipping the oars into the rowlocks and pulling hard as they guided the Chura out onto the water.
Once far enough away from land, Yara's arms stilled and he pushed down on his oar, raising the blade out of the water as he stopped to catch his breath.
"Morning," he said then, grinning as, beside him, Yamamoto did the same. "Sleep well?"
"One day," Yamamoto said with a rueful grin, "one day I'll get there before you do, and then you'll have to run not to get left behind."
Yara simply laughed, leaning back and stretching his arms above his head as the small boat rocked on the water. The oar slid back down again, catching in the rowlock and swinging gently with the movement of the water while above them, the rising sun kissed the morning clouds with hints of silver and gold. A gull shrieked as it flew low overhead, and Yara turned then, squinting over his shoulder to where the small, rocky island awaited them.
"Maa," Yara said, turning back round and flexing his fingers before reaching for the oar again. "Shall we get going?"
"I'm hungry," Yamamoto confessed, with a nod. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can have breakfast."
They pulled the Chura ashore on the familiar sandy beach and tucked her out of harm's way before clambering over rocks still slick with dew that had not yet been burned off by the early-autumn sunshine. They headed up the rocky incline to the grass-covered cliff top and, finally, they collapsed.
"Food," Yamamoto moaned, pawing at the basket they had brought with them until Yara groaned and sat upright again. He tugged the basket open and drew out the box of onigiri, helping himself before shoving the rest at Yamamoto.
"There you go," Yara said, thumbing grains of sticky rice from his lips as he sat looking out to sea, one knee tucked against his chest.
Free days like this were few and far between at this end of the year, with the various commitments that came with the threat of oncoming winter. Ominous news from the North hinted at political unrest, and Yara was not certain that they would get much peace soon, even with the onset of spring. The blue of the sea met the blue of the horizon in the distance, and Yara wondered how long it would be before unfamiliar ships would be visible, dark flecks across the water. He glanced to his side then, to Yamamoto whose cheeks were stuffed with his second onigiri, and suddenly he smiled as warmth fluttered through him, like the hurried beating of a dove's wings among the treetops.
"Mm?" Yamamoto said, looking up to find Yara watching him. He coloured with half-embarrassed pleasure as he hurriedly finished his mouthful, then tilted his face toward Yara again. "What is it you're thinking about?"
Yara paused then; he was never much one for over-sentimentality. "You're good company," he said, eyes crinkling into a smile that strengthened as Yamamoto mirrored it. "I like our days like this."
"Mm." Yamamoto hummed thoughtfully, pushing the picnic basket away and shuffling closer to sit beside Yara. "For me, spending time with Yara like this is… probably the thing I dislike …the least." Yamamoto flashed an impish grin at him, then laughed outright as Yara reached out to swat at his head.
"Brat," Yara grinned with affection. "What's with you phrasing it like that?"
"Made you smile, though," Yamamoto grinned back, then leaned against Yara and nudged at him with his shoulder. "Ne. Ne, Yaracchi."
"What is it," Yara said, not really asking. He was happy; the sun was warm; Yamamoto's body against him was also warm; the sky was clear and the sea beautifully calm. It was a good morning.
"Yaracchi~"
Yamamoto's whine was insistent and made Yara turn, only to be met by soft lips and a gentle sigh as Yamamoto kissed him. It was half-unexpected, so Yara's eyes widened - but it was half-anticipated too and he quickly recovered, sliding their lips together and reaching up to curl one hand around and thread his fingers through the tangle of thick hair at the back of Yamamoto's neck. Yamamoto gave a quiet mhh as Yara pulled him closer, and when they pulled apart again Yamamoto's lips were reddened, his eyes dark.
For a moment silence hung between them, broken only by the rushing hiss of the sea and the cries of the seagulls. Yara eyed Yamamoto curiously, waiting to see what would come next.
Yamamoto's courage wavered, and he backed down. "I… like our days together," he said, turning back to look out to sea. "I like our days like this."
"Hmm," Yara said, amusement flickering across his lips despite himself. He reached out to touch Yamamoto's shoulder. "Ne, Ryouta?"
Yamamoto turned back to face him, clearly no longer certain. Yara couldn't bring himself to be too obnoxious, not this time. He reached out with one hand, fingers brushing along the line of Yamamoto's jaw as the other man froze; it was only when their lips pressed together again that Yara felt Yamamoto remember to breathe, a puff of startled warm air against his cheek that made Yara smile into their kiss.
"I didn't think you…" When they pulled back a second time Yamamoto seemed at a loss for words, hands waving in the air as though this would help him communicate better.
"Yeah, well," Yara shrugged, then got to his feet and dusted off his pants. He gave Yamamoto a small grin then held out a hand, offering to help him up. "Let's go fish for our lunch, okay?"
"Okay," Yamamoto nodded, scrambling to his feet and tugging the strap of the picnic basket over his head and across his chest. He grinned then, beaming wider than Yara had seen yet; it was contagious, and he found himself grinning back. He picked up their fishing rods, then gestured toward the rocky path back inland.
"After you, then, Ryo-chan."
PG-13; Yara/Yamamoto; AU.
For kuro-chin, otsukare! This is not the essay I should be writing, nor is it any of the fics I owe other people. Wheeeee~ \8D/
He woke just as the blue mist of dawn began its reluctant retreat across the land, leaving dew-soaked grass in its wake. The night had been cold and his blanket had slipped down the bed as he slept. It was the cold that woke him, and the stiff ache of complaining muscles still unused to the slow cooling of the year, as summer slowly meandered its way into autumn. If it had not been so close to dawn Yara would have reached for his blanket and curled back up underneath it. As it was, the thin curtains he had failed to draw fully closed the night before let pale light into his room and Yara sat upright, brow crinkling as he frowned against the dawn. Feet set down softly on the wooden floorboards; the bed creaked; there was the soft sound of cloth against skin as Yara quickly dressed, and then the quiet clack as he opened the door out and into the hallway.
The view from the front door as soon as Yara stepped outside was of the tree-smothered hillside some way in the distance, where the chalky downs rose up to form a plateau further inland. The mist only reached a certain distance up the hillside before it could crawl no further, and was now steadily seeping away, leaving trails of greyish-white to lace among the treetops as the sunlight began to nudge its way over the horizon and flood the valley with soft light. Yara did not pause long to admire the view; it was one he had seen countless times before, but despite its familiarity he couldn't help but feel slightly lighter, slightly more at peace.
Around to the back of the house, with fishing rod and tackle in hand, Yara trudged down the gravel path to where the sea whispered against the shore with a hush, hush that did more to wake him than lull him to sleep. The mist was fading fast, the ground heavy with dew that soaked the waterproof exterior of Yara's boots but he walked on regardless, pace quickening as he reached the steeper incline that led toward the beach.
The Chura was waiting for him on the pebbles, pulled up past the high tide markers, her tarpaulin wet with dew. Yara set his fishing gear down by the side of the small boat and pulled back the tarp, sending the gathered dew to spray onto the pebbles before stowing the stiffened cloth and setting the rod and tackle inside her small hull and beginning to tug her down toward the water's edge.
He heard running footsteps struggling across the pebble beach, the kssh kssh kssh loud even over the sighing waves and the grumble of the Chura as her painted exterior inched down the beach behind him. Yara didn't look up; he knew to whom the footsteps belonged; he knew whose panting breaths made puffs of white air as familiar fishing tackle and a familiar basket of food were flung into the hull beside Yara's own possessions. Yamamoto grabbed at the Chura and gave Yara a fleeting grin as he helped pull the small boat to the water's edge. As her bow hit the water they pushed harder, before throwing themselves into the boat with an ease borne of practice. The oars lay along the bottom of the boat and with synchronised movements they grabbed one apiece, slipping the oars into the rowlocks and pulling hard as they guided the Chura out onto the water.
Once far enough away from land, Yara's arms stilled and he pushed down on his oar, raising the blade out of the water as he stopped to catch his breath.
"Morning," he said then, grinning as, beside him, Yamamoto did the same. "Sleep well?"
"One day," Yamamoto said with a rueful grin, "one day I'll get there before you do, and then you'll have to run not to get left behind."
Yara simply laughed, leaning back and stretching his arms above his head as the small boat rocked on the water. The oar slid back down again, catching in the rowlock and swinging gently with the movement of the water while above them, the rising sun kissed the morning clouds with hints of silver and gold. A gull shrieked as it flew low overhead, and Yara turned then, squinting over his shoulder to where the small, rocky island awaited them.
"Maa," Yara said, turning back round and flexing his fingers before reaching for the oar again. "Shall we get going?"
"I'm hungry," Yamamoto confessed, with a nod. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can have breakfast."
They pulled the Chura ashore on the familiar sandy beach and tucked her out of harm's way before clambering over rocks still slick with dew that had not yet been burned off by the early-autumn sunshine. They headed up the rocky incline to the grass-covered cliff top and, finally, they collapsed.
"Food," Yamamoto moaned, pawing at the basket they had brought with them until Yara groaned and sat upright again. He tugged the basket open and drew out the box of onigiri, helping himself before shoving the rest at Yamamoto.
"There you go," Yara said, thumbing grains of sticky rice from his lips as he sat looking out to sea, one knee tucked against his chest.
Free days like this were few and far between at this end of the year, with the various commitments that came with the threat of oncoming winter. Ominous news from the North hinted at political unrest, and Yara was not certain that they would get much peace soon, even with the onset of spring. The blue of the sea met the blue of the horizon in the distance, and Yara wondered how long it would be before unfamiliar ships would be visible, dark flecks across the water. He glanced to his side then, to Yamamoto whose cheeks were stuffed with his second onigiri, and suddenly he smiled as warmth fluttered through him, like the hurried beating of a dove's wings among the treetops.
"Mm?" Yamamoto said, looking up to find Yara watching him. He coloured with half-embarrassed pleasure as he hurriedly finished his mouthful, then tilted his face toward Yara again. "What is it you're thinking about?"
Yara paused then; he was never much one for over-sentimentality. "You're good company," he said, eyes crinkling into a smile that strengthened as Yamamoto mirrored it. "I like our days like this."
"Mm." Yamamoto hummed thoughtfully, pushing the picnic basket away and shuffling closer to sit beside Yara. "For me, spending time with Yara like this is… probably the thing I dislike …the least." Yamamoto flashed an impish grin at him, then laughed outright as Yara reached out to swat at his head.
"Brat," Yara grinned with affection. "What's with you phrasing it like that?"
"Made you smile, though," Yamamoto grinned back, then leaned against Yara and nudged at him with his shoulder. "Ne. Ne, Yaracchi."
"What is it," Yara said, not really asking. He was happy; the sun was warm; Yamamoto's body against him was also warm; the sky was clear and the sea beautifully calm. It was a good morning.
"Yaracchi~"
Yamamoto's whine was insistent and made Yara turn, only to be met by soft lips and a gentle sigh as Yamamoto kissed him. It was half-unexpected, so Yara's eyes widened - but it was half-anticipated too and he quickly recovered, sliding their lips together and reaching up to curl one hand around and thread his fingers through the tangle of thick hair at the back of Yamamoto's neck. Yamamoto gave a quiet mhh as Yara pulled him closer, and when they pulled apart again Yamamoto's lips were reddened, his eyes dark.
For a moment silence hung between them, broken only by the rushing hiss of the sea and the cries of the seagulls. Yara eyed Yamamoto curiously, waiting to see what would come next.
Yamamoto's courage wavered, and he backed down. "I… like our days together," he said, turning back to look out to sea. "I like our days like this."
"Hmm," Yara said, amusement flickering across his lips despite himself. He reached out to touch Yamamoto's shoulder. "Ne, Ryouta?"
Yamamoto turned back to face him, clearly no longer certain. Yara couldn't bring himself to be too obnoxious, not this time. He reached out with one hand, fingers brushing along the line of Yamamoto's jaw as the other man froze; it was only when their lips pressed together again that Yara felt Yamamoto remember to breathe, a puff of startled warm air against his cheek that made Yara smile into their kiss.
"I didn't think you…" When they pulled back a second time Yamamoto seemed at a loss for words, hands waving in the air as though this would help him communicate better.
"Yeah, well," Yara shrugged, then got to his feet and dusted off his pants. He gave Yamamoto a small grin then held out a hand, offering to help him up. "Let's go fish for our lunch, okay?"
"Okay," Yamamoto nodded, scrambling to his feet and tugging the strap of the picnic basket over his head and across his chest. He grinned then, beaming wider than Yara had seen yet; it was contagious, and he found himself grinning back. He picked up their fishing rods, then gestured toward the rocky path back inland.
"After you, then, Ryo-chan."