[fic] [Utena] Shall I?
Quick Utena thing. Post-series. Mildly risque.
“I mean, I guess we should go,” says Utena, starting the conversation in the middle and expecting the other party to understand. It is the way she does things, and it is lucky that Anthy understands it. It is also lucky Wakaba left a message. Otherwise Anthy would have had no immediate idea what she was talking about. “It’s great, and all, that we’re getting invited to this. But formal-themed? In a hall? Do I even have anything that works for that?”
“You have a lot of lovely suits,” says Anthy, as Utena crosses the room without looking at her, her undone tie in her mouth. They have not lived together long, at this point. Not in this time of their lives. Utena has been sleeping in the second room, like a gentleman. The one large closet, however, is where Anthy has been sleeping, and Utena glares at her side of it.
“I don’t know,” she says around the fabric of her tie. She tosses it away with a flick of her head. “Should we go? I mean, yes we should. It’s Wakaba. We should go for Wakaba. But. I don’t know. I’ll go, that’s a definate! But under conditions! I’m not THAT big on dancing.”
“We danced,” notes Anthy, getting up from the bed. “When we were in school.”
Utena pauses, her lips quirking from the memory. This one is dear to her, and it comes easily even to a mind geared to rapid pace. “Ack. But that was years ago. And different.”
“If you are worried you should practice.”
Utena shoves a array of blazers and a sundress aside. “Practice, she says! We’ve got a week. If we’re going. ...ugh can’t leave Wakaba in a lurch. Practice.”
Anthy slides her feet to the floor. She takes the sheet with her as she goes. She pulls it over her body, and keeps it fastened between her fingers just near the top of her left breast. It’s cool against her bare skin. “Would you dance with me, the way we danced before?”
“We’re not in school. And we’re not at a party.”
She turns. Anthy is standing just behind her now. “No,” says Anthy, touching her shoulder. “We are not.”
It dawns on Utena, the way these things do. Suddenly, and with great animation. She looks at Anthy, and then away, and then again at Anthy out of the corner of her eye, her head shying away, like a startled colt. “Uh, hey, um. That. I guess. Well. ...All right.”
“I can lead this time, if you’d like.”
“All right.”
The sheet doesn’t last very long, at the end of the day.
“I mean, I guess we should go,” says Utena, starting the conversation in the middle and expecting the other party to understand. It is the way she does things, and it is lucky that Anthy understands it. It is also lucky Wakaba left a message. Otherwise Anthy would have had no immediate idea what she was talking about. “It’s great, and all, that we’re getting invited to this. But formal-themed? In a hall? Do I even have anything that works for that?”
“You have a lot of lovely suits,” says Anthy, as Utena crosses the room without looking at her, her undone tie in her mouth. They have not lived together long, at this point. Not in this time of their lives. Utena has been sleeping in the second room, like a gentleman. The one large closet, however, is where Anthy has been sleeping, and Utena glares at her side of it.
“I don’t know,” she says around the fabric of her tie. She tosses it away with a flick of her head. “Should we go? I mean, yes we should. It’s Wakaba. We should go for Wakaba. But. I don’t know. I’ll go, that’s a definate! But under conditions! I’m not THAT big on dancing.”
“We danced,” notes Anthy, getting up from the bed. “When we were in school.”
Utena pauses, her lips quirking from the memory. This one is dear to her, and it comes easily even to a mind geared to rapid pace. “Ack. But that was years ago. And different.”
“If you are worried you should practice.”
Utena shoves a array of blazers and a sundress aside. “Practice, she says! We’ve got a week. If we’re going. ...ugh can’t leave Wakaba in a lurch. Practice.”
Anthy slides her feet to the floor. She takes the sheet with her as she goes. She pulls it over her body, and keeps it fastened between her fingers just near the top of her left breast. It’s cool against her bare skin. “Would you dance with me, the way we danced before?”
“We’re not in school. And we’re not at a party.”
She turns. Anthy is standing just behind her now. “No,” says Anthy, touching her shoulder. “We are not.”
It dawns on Utena, the way these things do. Suddenly, and with great animation. She looks at Anthy, and then away, and then again at Anthy out of the corner of her eye, her head shying away, like a startled colt. “Uh, hey, um. That. I guess. Well. ...All right.”
“I can lead this time, if you’d like.”
“All right.”
The sheet doesn’t last very long, at the end of the day.