lunar_gale
in
no_air
[Email Log] [Tea and Company, like it or not] [Nanao and Hayate] [Closed]
((Just a short one compared to our usual length. Backdated to Thursday, May 18th, about 7:15pm. The night before she confronted Gaara.))
True, she’d said that he shouldn’t come to see her. True, she’d said that she would feel guilty if he caught whatever was ailing her. But, he just couldn’t stay away if she was feeling under the weather. Hayate didn’t bother going upstairs when he got home from the store, but went directly to apartment four and let himself inside.
Leaving his umbrella and shoes by the door, he went directly to the kitchen to fill the kettle and set it on the burner. He’d picked up a few different kinds of mild medication, mostly herbal, and a tea blend that usually eased his headaches when they got out of control.
Steeping two servings of that in separate mugs from the cabinet, he turned off the burner and grabbed the bag with one hand, lifting both mugs with the other. There was honey in the bag if she wanted hers sweetened, and he was content to have his as it was.
Thankfully, her bedroom door wasn’t fully closed. He nudged it open with his shoulder and moved quietly to the side of her bed, speaking softly. “I’m sorry, Nanao, but I’ve never been very good at obedience...”
Nanao had been dozing on and off most of the day, as she was the moment Hayate entered her bedroom. She was curled on her side, eyes closed, light blanket twisted around her legs. Her brain stirred when she heard the familiar voice behind her, her body already moving to face him.
She cracked bleary eyes open, blinking them a few times before she could focus. Slowly, she settled facing him, one hand pushing her tangled hair out of her face, leveling a serious look on his as soon as she could see past her hair. “You shouldn’t be here… I don’t want you to end up sick…”
“I’ll be fine. My immune system is unfortunately strong. Really.” He’d been expecting something like that, and smiled at her, setting the mugs down carefully on her bedside table. Opening the bag, he fished out a small jar of fresh honey and set that down as well.
In spite of himself, he was grinning when he turned back toward her. “Besides, how could I resist? You told me once that your hair’s always a mess when you wake up and I thought I’d take the chance to see it for myself.”
He leaned over and brushed her hair aside with his fingers, managing to not only uncover the rest of her face, but also to tone down his own smile. True, her hair wasn’t neat, but he still thought it looked nice. The disheveled look had always been one of his secret attractions, but he didn’t think that now was the time to tell her so.
Dropping a few inches lower, he brushed a kiss across her cheekbone, sure that she’d pretest anything more intimate at the moment. “I like it.”
The only response she could manage at the moment was an unladylike snort, even if she almost smiled up at him. “Do you, now? Then you can help me brush it out later…” She really wasn’t awake enough yet to realize what she was saying. Her eyes closed again, brow furrowing, as she heaved herself up to lean back against the headboard.
Head tilted back against the wall, she opened her eyes again, slowly, not really focusing on anything in particular. Blinking her eyes usually helped clear them, but between the hair in her line of sight again, and the remains of her migraine, she really didn’t care about it at that moment. A low hiss of breath was indication enough that the movement hadn’t been a good idea, but she didn’t want to see Hayate like she was. A matter of pride? Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
“You really didn’t need to… but thank you.”
“I wanted to. That’s better than needing to.” He looked her over, tilting his head to one side. Obviously the migraine hadn’t gone away. Careful not to make too much noise with the bag, he fished out the migrastick he’d picked up for her and peeled away the packaging. After shaking it and removing the cap, he held it just far enough from her nose that she wouldn’t accidentally run into it.
“Here. Inhale. It smells a little bit stranger than plain mint, but it helps more, too.” Settling onto the bed without shaking it was a bit more difficult than keeping the bag quiet, but his years of fencing had made him graceful, and he succeeded. He slid his free hand behind her neck and began to massage it just as he had the first time he’d sat with her while she was unwell. As close as he was, she could lean on him if she needed to.
He kept his voice even softer than usual, just in case. “You know, I’m used to long hair. In fact, I can even untangle naturally curly long hair… So, I think I could manage combing yours.”
The scent of peppermint immediately brought up memories of the first time he’d stayed with her during one of her migraines. At the time, she’d been mortified that she’d fallen asleep on him, not knowing him all that well then. Now, she knew there would be no judgments, no thoughts that she was weak. She took several deep breaths, bringing more of the pungent sweet scent into her system, willing the memories to stay a bit longer as she closed her eyes.
Between the sweet scent and his nimble fingers on her neck, the pain slowly began to recede, becoming manageable, instead of the crippling pain that had kept her in bed all day. She leaned against him in silence for several minutes, eyes closed, breathing even before she groaned under her breath; half in relief, and half pleading for her head to please stop hurting…
She reached up to push stubbornly wavy hair away from her face, not really caring that it settled only an inch from where it had draped across her cheek. As long as it was out of her eyes. The hand dropped, coming to rest on Hayate’s leg, fingers twitching for an instant.
"Don't think I won't take you up on that..."
He chuckled softly, still diligently working on the pressure points along the back of her neck. She had remarkable luck in finding the areas he found ticklish, but he made an effort not to react this time. Jarring her would probably be painful. Instead, he lowered the hand that was holding the vial of essential oils and stroked his fingers across hers. “If you think you can hold on to this, I know a spot on the hand that really helps to knock down migraines.”
His fingers nudged hers gently, turning her hand over and setting the migrastick in her loose grip. With the distraction of her inadvertent tickling dealt with, he reached for her other hand, gripping the web between index finger and thumb and gently applying pressure. He’d been taught that by Crow, who fussed over him when he was in pain, and it usually helped not only the migraines, but also the nausea that tended to follow along with them.
“Alright. When you’re feeling well enough to hold your head up without too much pain, I’ll comb your hair. I can share my secrets for making perfect ponytails.”
He knew that most people’s sense of humor grew thin when they were suffering, but he figured the joke was obvious enough that it should be safe, no matter how she was feeling. His hair always seemed to look a bit sloppy these days; he only bothered to work it into a decently smooth style when he was going out, and lately he spent most of his time at home. Anything beyond shampooing, conditioning, and maintenance combing was more trouble than he cared to tackle, but her hair was an entirely different story.
“Actually… I’d like that.”
Shaky fingers curled obediently around the vial as she allowed him to manipulate her free hand. The pressure caused it to tense for a moment, relaxing marginally under his touch. His words registered, and were heard, but she honestly couldn’t think enough to produce words at that instant.
She allowed herself several moments to pull her scattered thoughts together, then very carefully cleared her throat and murmured, “You don’t have perfect ponytails… they’re all messy, but I think I like them…” Her head moved, as if trying to prove she WAS feeling better, but only for a moment, making her moan softly. She rolled it back to rest against his shoulder, eyes finally clear enough to see in the gloomy dusk.
“So would I…”
Her hair had always been a vanity of hers, and having it messy was something she could barely stand, except in certain circumstances. The lightest touch to her hair could relax her, someone offering to comb or brush it for her was something akin to heaven in her opinion. No one she’d ever been dating (not that she’d dated that much) had ever made such an offer, though. In the past, it had always been her mother or her sitters…
Well, maybe the joke was a bit too much for her current condition. Hayate smiled, brushing a kiss across her forehead and rolling his shoulders just enough to curl himself around her ever so slightly, trying to offer comfort and support. Odd were high that she’d soon fall asleep again, but the tea would still be good even if it went cold, and he wanted to be a support, above all else.
He let the upward motion of the hand on her neck travel higher still, rubbing her scalp with the tips of his fingers, working slowly and cautiously through her hair. At one point, he had to untangle his hand and start over, but he eventually reached her temples and drew soothing circular motions across them before placing warm fingers over her forehead. His arm was wrapped around her, and he listened to her breathing for a few minutes, silently thinking, still holding her hand.
“Another time, I promise. In the morning, maybe, if you feel better...” he murmured, and eased the pressure off her hand. Retrieving the vial, he set it aside. It was likely to get lost in the bed if he forgot, and that could be messy. She would still be able to smell it, as the scent continued to drift from the open top, since he didn’t bother trying to close it one-handed.
Very slowly, he eased them both back down into the bed, holding her against his chest all the while. “You don’t have to be awake just because I’m here. I can let myself out later, so just rest now. I’ll stay for a few hours.”
Gradually, her eyes slid shut as her brain began protesting the time awake. “Promise?” She left the question open, not really knowing what she was asking. As soon as they were mostly laying back down, she carefully shifted with a low whimper to curl against his chest, the fingers of one hand closing on the front of his shirt.
She was loathe to fall asleep on him again, but she didn’t feel like she had much choice. His presence was such a comfort to her that she knew she could rest, and her body was pushing for it. “…’m sure you have other things to do,” was the last thing she could manage before she slipped back into a restless slumber.
“None that I can’t put aside for you…”
Obviously, he was talking more to himself than Nanao, but he muttered a reply anyway. It was quiet in the apartment, and the way she was clinging to his shirt told a very different story from her words. In the dim light, he watched her sleep, absently smoothing his hands over her back.
He regretted nothing.
True, she’d said that he shouldn’t come to see her. True, she’d said that she would feel guilty if he caught whatever was ailing her. But, he just couldn’t stay away if she was feeling under the weather. Hayate didn’t bother going upstairs when he got home from the store, but went directly to apartment four and let himself inside.
Leaving his umbrella and shoes by the door, he went directly to the kitchen to fill the kettle and set it on the burner. He’d picked up a few different kinds of mild medication, mostly herbal, and a tea blend that usually eased his headaches when they got out of control.
Steeping two servings of that in separate mugs from the cabinet, he turned off the burner and grabbed the bag with one hand, lifting both mugs with the other. There was honey in the bag if she wanted hers sweetened, and he was content to have his as it was.
Thankfully, her bedroom door wasn’t fully closed. He nudged it open with his shoulder and moved quietly to the side of her bed, speaking softly. “I’m sorry, Nanao, but I’ve never been very good at obedience...”
Nanao had been dozing on and off most of the day, as she was the moment Hayate entered her bedroom. She was curled on her side, eyes closed, light blanket twisted around her legs. Her brain stirred when she heard the familiar voice behind her, her body already moving to face him.
She cracked bleary eyes open, blinking them a few times before she could focus. Slowly, she settled facing him, one hand pushing her tangled hair out of her face, leveling a serious look on his as soon as she could see past her hair. “You shouldn’t be here… I don’t want you to end up sick…”
“I’ll be fine. My immune system is unfortunately strong. Really.” He’d been expecting something like that, and smiled at her, setting the mugs down carefully on her bedside table. Opening the bag, he fished out a small jar of fresh honey and set that down as well.
In spite of himself, he was grinning when he turned back toward her. “Besides, how could I resist? You told me once that your hair’s always a mess when you wake up and I thought I’d take the chance to see it for myself.”
He leaned over and brushed her hair aside with his fingers, managing to not only uncover the rest of her face, but also to tone down his own smile. True, her hair wasn’t neat, but he still thought it looked nice. The disheveled look had always been one of his secret attractions, but he didn’t think that now was the time to tell her so.
Dropping a few inches lower, he brushed a kiss across her cheekbone, sure that she’d pretest anything more intimate at the moment. “I like it.”
The only response she could manage at the moment was an unladylike snort, even if she almost smiled up at him. “Do you, now? Then you can help me brush it out later…” She really wasn’t awake enough yet to realize what she was saying. Her eyes closed again, brow furrowing, as she heaved herself up to lean back against the headboard.
Head tilted back against the wall, she opened her eyes again, slowly, not really focusing on anything in particular. Blinking her eyes usually helped clear them, but between the hair in her line of sight again, and the remains of her migraine, she really didn’t care about it at that moment. A low hiss of breath was indication enough that the movement hadn’t been a good idea, but she didn’t want to see Hayate like she was. A matter of pride? Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
“You really didn’t need to… but thank you.”
“I wanted to. That’s better than needing to.” He looked her over, tilting his head to one side. Obviously the migraine hadn’t gone away. Careful not to make too much noise with the bag, he fished out the migrastick he’d picked up for her and peeled away the packaging. After shaking it and removing the cap, he held it just far enough from her nose that she wouldn’t accidentally run into it.
“Here. Inhale. It smells a little bit stranger than plain mint, but it helps more, too.” Settling onto the bed without shaking it was a bit more difficult than keeping the bag quiet, but his years of fencing had made him graceful, and he succeeded. He slid his free hand behind her neck and began to massage it just as he had the first time he’d sat with her while she was unwell. As close as he was, she could lean on him if she needed to.
He kept his voice even softer than usual, just in case. “You know, I’m used to long hair. In fact, I can even untangle naturally curly long hair… So, I think I could manage combing yours.”
The scent of peppermint immediately brought up memories of the first time he’d stayed with her during one of her migraines. At the time, she’d been mortified that she’d fallen asleep on him, not knowing him all that well then. Now, she knew there would be no judgments, no thoughts that she was weak. She took several deep breaths, bringing more of the pungent sweet scent into her system, willing the memories to stay a bit longer as she closed her eyes.
Between the sweet scent and his nimble fingers on her neck, the pain slowly began to recede, becoming manageable, instead of the crippling pain that had kept her in bed all day. She leaned against him in silence for several minutes, eyes closed, breathing even before she groaned under her breath; half in relief, and half pleading for her head to please stop hurting…
She reached up to push stubbornly wavy hair away from her face, not really caring that it settled only an inch from where it had draped across her cheek. As long as it was out of her eyes. The hand dropped, coming to rest on Hayate’s leg, fingers twitching for an instant.
"Don't think I won't take you up on that..."
He chuckled softly, still diligently working on the pressure points along the back of her neck. She had remarkable luck in finding the areas he found ticklish, but he made an effort not to react this time. Jarring her would probably be painful. Instead, he lowered the hand that was holding the vial of essential oils and stroked his fingers across hers. “If you think you can hold on to this, I know a spot on the hand that really helps to knock down migraines.”
His fingers nudged hers gently, turning her hand over and setting the migrastick in her loose grip. With the distraction of her inadvertent tickling dealt with, he reached for her other hand, gripping the web between index finger and thumb and gently applying pressure. He’d been taught that by Crow, who fussed over him when he was in pain, and it usually helped not only the migraines, but also the nausea that tended to follow along with them.
“Alright. When you’re feeling well enough to hold your head up without too much pain, I’ll comb your hair. I can share my secrets for making perfect ponytails.”
He knew that most people’s sense of humor grew thin when they were suffering, but he figured the joke was obvious enough that it should be safe, no matter how she was feeling. His hair always seemed to look a bit sloppy these days; he only bothered to work it into a decently smooth style when he was going out, and lately he spent most of his time at home. Anything beyond shampooing, conditioning, and maintenance combing was more trouble than he cared to tackle, but her hair was an entirely different story.
“Actually… I’d like that.”
Shaky fingers curled obediently around the vial as she allowed him to manipulate her free hand. The pressure caused it to tense for a moment, relaxing marginally under his touch. His words registered, and were heard, but she honestly couldn’t think enough to produce words at that instant.
She allowed herself several moments to pull her scattered thoughts together, then very carefully cleared her throat and murmured, “You don’t have perfect ponytails… they’re all messy, but I think I like them…” Her head moved, as if trying to prove she WAS feeling better, but only for a moment, making her moan softly. She rolled it back to rest against his shoulder, eyes finally clear enough to see in the gloomy dusk.
“So would I…”
Her hair had always been a vanity of hers, and having it messy was something she could barely stand, except in certain circumstances. The lightest touch to her hair could relax her, someone offering to comb or brush it for her was something akin to heaven in her opinion. No one she’d ever been dating (not that she’d dated that much) had ever made such an offer, though. In the past, it had always been her mother or her sitters…
Well, maybe the joke was a bit too much for her current condition. Hayate smiled, brushing a kiss across her forehead and rolling his shoulders just enough to curl himself around her ever so slightly, trying to offer comfort and support. Odd were high that she’d soon fall asleep again, but the tea would still be good even if it went cold, and he wanted to be a support, above all else.
He let the upward motion of the hand on her neck travel higher still, rubbing her scalp with the tips of his fingers, working slowly and cautiously through her hair. At one point, he had to untangle his hand and start over, but he eventually reached her temples and drew soothing circular motions across them before placing warm fingers over her forehead. His arm was wrapped around her, and he listened to her breathing for a few minutes, silently thinking, still holding her hand.
“Another time, I promise. In the morning, maybe, if you feel better...” he murmured, and eased the pressure off her hand. Retrieving the vial, he set it aside. It was likely to get lost in the bed if he forgot, and that could be messy. She would still be able to smell it, as the scent continued to drift from the open top, since he didn’t bother trying to close it one-handed.
Very slowly, he eased them both back down into the bed, holding her against his chest all the while. “You don’t have to be awake just because I’m here. I can let myself out later, so just rest now. I’ll stay for a few hours.”
Gradually, her eyes slid shut as her brain began protesting the time awake. “Promise?” She left the question open, not really knowing what she was asking. As soon as they were mostly laying back down, she carefully shifted with a low whimper to curl against his chest, the fingers of one hand closing on the front of his shirt.
She was loathe to fall asleep on him again, but she didn’t feel like she had much choice. His presence was such a comfort to her that she knew she could rest, and her body was pushing for it. “…’m sure you have other things to do,” was the last thing she could manage before she slipped back into a restless slumber.
“None that I can’t put aside for you…”
Obviously, he was talking more to himself than Nanao, but he muttered a reply anyway. It was quiet in the apartment, and the way she was clinging to his shirt told a very different story from her words. In the dim light, he watched her sleep, absently smoothing his hands over her back.
He regretted nothing.