It's been a long time
The latest one-shot in a series of one-shot for Tomouya; I'm sorry to say that it may have turned out more sugary than I intended it to be. Enjoy, and please let me know when you spot grammar errors or other choppy spots.
Title: From the Married Life of Touya and Tomoyo.
Genre: Romance, General
Setting: Post-Canon
Rating: G
Length: 1580 Words
Characters: Touya and Tomoyo.
Warning: Het, Waff, and many other terrible things.
Summary: See title; if anyone has anything better, let me know, cause I don't.
****
He awakened to an unusually bright morning and instinctively reached over to his right, only to discover that his wife’s side of the futon was empty. Rubbing heavy-lidded eyes with the ball of his hand, Touya remembered that it was Saturday, when she would always wake before he did to make breakfast and let him sleep in; a reversal of their weekday patterns due to his long work commutes. He eyed the depression in the pillow that Tomoyo’s head had created. A far steadier sleeper than he, she was not prone to shifting around in her dreams, nor was she as clingy as he sometimes became at night. Somehow, they managed to find a way to accommodate each others so that each had their comfort and peace.
Touya, mind near full consciousness but still reluctant to wake after the delicious respite, lowered himself back into bed. Several seconds later, he reached for Tomoyo’s pillow and switched it with his own. The sweet familiar scent that filled his senses nearly lured him back to sleep, but he merely closed his eyes and indulged himself in the peaceful feeling, like crawling into his parents’ bed as a boy and nestling safely in between.
When he had washed and came downstairs, he found Tomoyo putting the finishing touch on their breakfast: Grilled fish, omelet rolls, miso soup, chilled tofu, seaweed, fluffy white rice, pickled vegetables, and a salad with tomato and cucumbers picked from their tiny garden behind the house. It was a proper Japanese breakfast, a feast compared to the toast and coffee he made for himself from Monday to Friday. Inhaling the atmosphere deeply, he quietly approached his wife from behind and pecked her on the cheek as he slipped his arms around her waist. “Good morning, honey.”
And she smiled, knowing he was there the whole time. “Good morning. Help me set the dishes?”
After she undid and hung up her apron, they sat down at the small dining table for two. She served the rice and he poured the tea, the window left open to allow a breeze from a perfect Saturday morning outside. Tomoyo waited until he took the first bite. “Good?”
He could not adore her enough. “Perfect.”
A few minutes into their meal, Touya picked up the remote control and turned on the television, the volume preset low but audible in the cozy confines of the kitchen. The morning news was on, and a young couple in their late twenties was the subject of an interview, one of those random local news bits covering the crushing weekend crowds.
“That’s right, we’ve been happily married for one full year now!” The husband, who had his hair dyed brown with streaks of yellow, wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“And now we’re even more in love than when we first met!” As the overly fashionable couple kissed, Touya winced inwardly at the public display. Both of them discreet personalities, he and Tomoyo at most held hands when they were out on busy streets, and the mere thought of kissing-or swallowing, as was the more appropriate description of the case at hand-on television seemed… weird to him.
At home and in private was a different matter altogether.
The young reporter seemed far more at ease faced with such behavior, or, as Touya keenly observed, was at least practiced at concealing his dismay. “Now that you’ve been together for one year, what are your plans for the immediate future?”
“Well… I was thinking it was about time we got around to making a baby.”
“Oh darling, announcing in front of all these people!” It was hard to tell whether a blush emerged underneath all the makeup, but it was evident that the woman was not displeased as she threw her arms around her mate, who laughed heartily in response. Soon the screen switched back to the anchor, and the news moved onto recaps of the previous evening’s reports. Touya’s face however remained fixed on the television; or more accurately, Touya’s face remained turned away from Tomoyo’s.
They had just celebrated their own first anniversary a month ago.
The coincidence, really no coincidence at all, would not have created such an awkward silence at the table had Touya not been contemplating the very same matter which his television counterpart had spouted out mere seconds ago. He’d considered it for weeks, and he knew she knew he was considering it, and had waited ever since their anniversary for the right moment to bring the issue up.
The right moment was supposed to be this morning at breakfast.
Touya found himself in a predicament; his initiative had been usurped, the mood was awkward, tension was high. To broach such a delicate issue now after the gaudy display on television could only come across as a joke, and he was certainly not in the mood for joking, although circumstance and a stranger with ugly hair might very well have taken that choice from him.
But what was Tomoyo’s reaction to all this? Trying and failing to conceal the embarrassment evident in his face, he slowly turned and cast a glance across the table towards her. A piece of cucumber between her chopsticks remained suspended between her bowl and her lips, which remained slightly parted as she appeared far away in thought. When she felt his gaze on her and their eyes met, the flair of color in her cheeks came close to resembling that of the pink sweater she wore.
Uh oh.
What had merely been the most important proposal he would ever make in life (other than the proposal he made to her)-starting a family-had just become even more difficult. It was as though time had been reset to more than a year ago, when they were just beginning to realize the extent of their feelings for one another. A time when the temperature went up as soon as their eyes met, a time when Touya lost his cool and Tomoyo’s tongue became inexplicably tied as soon as they found themselves alone like they were now.
So Touya Kinomoto, flustered and faced with no comfortable way out of the present situation, did the only thing he could: He reached for another slice of tomato.
And as he extended his arms across the table, his chopsticks came into contact with hers.
A long moment later, each withdrew their chopsticks without a word, and though he could not have imagined Tomoyo becoming even redder than she already was, he was sure that he was not much better himself as the two studied their rice bowls or anything else on the table besides each others’ burning faces. And once again, as they increasingly realized with each incident of its kind, they found themselves too perceptive of each other’s way of thinking for their own good.
Three Months Later
She was sitting before her dresser when she heard him. After checking herself in the mirror one last time, she quickly descended the stairs and caught him just as he stepped through the doorway, his briefcase slung over one shoulder. “I’m home.”
“Welcome back!” Tomoyo just managed to keep herself from flying into her husband as she threw her arms around him, paying little concern to the nicer dress she had put on for him.
“Well at least someone is happy to see me.” Touya lowered his head to kiss her on the cheek as his hands went to her side, pulling back a second later as he pressed the tip of his nose against her collar. “Is that… perfume I smell?”
Giggly slightly from the ticklish effect, she only smiled sweetly in return as she undid his tie, causing Touya to lift an eyebrow as she took his hand and led him inside. “Come on, dinner is ready.”
His eyes widened when he saw white linen covering their small dining table, at the center of which was a lit candle and a bowl of fresh flowers. Tomoyo produced a bottle of wine and two glasses from the cupboards, and he could no longer suppress his curiosity. “Wow… What are we celebrating?”
“Why don’t you take a guess?”
“Alright, umm… The brat got in an accident?”
She laughed as she pulled on a pair of mittens and reached into the oven, filling the room with the delicious aroma of his favorite meal. “Nope, would you bring the salad out of the refrigerator?”
“Darn, okay… You won that raffle at the supermarket for tickets to Hawaii?”
“Even better.”
“Better than Hawaii? I don’t know… how about a hint?” Touya grinned at his wife next to him, who appeared to be enjoying herself even more than usual.
“What day is today?”
“Sunday? Oh wait, you mean that, right? Bu that has nothing to do with us, it’s…” Touya never finished the sentence as the significance of the date caught up with him. Putting down the basket of bread, he gently but firmly put his hands over his wife’s shoulders, his voice lowered to a near inaudible tone that trembled with anticipation. “You tell me right now, Tomoyo.”
But the joy on her face had already given it away, even before she drew herself on tiptoe to kiss him and reply in a smiling whisper.
“Happy Father’s Day, Touya.”
~End
Author's Note: The Japanese celebrate Father's Day on the third Sunday of June, same as America.
Title: From the Married Life of Touya and Tomoyo.
Genre: Romance, General
Setting: Post-Canon
Rating: G
Length: 1580 Words
Characters: Touya and Tomoyo.
Warning: Het, Waff, and many other terrible things.
Summary: See title; if anyone has anything better, let me know, cause I don't.
****
He awakened to an unusually bright morning and instinctively reached over to his right, only to discover that his wife’s side of the futon was empty. Rubbing heavy-lidded eyes with the ball of his hand, Touya remembered that it was Saturday, when she would always wake before he did to make breakfast and let him sleep in; a reversal of their weekday patterns due to his long work commutes. He eyed the depression in the pillow that Tomoyo’s head had created. A far steadier sleeper than he, she was not prone to shifting around in her dreams, nor was she as clingy as he sometimes became at night. Somehow, they managed to find a way to accommodate each others so that each had their comfort and peace.
Touya, mind near full consciousness but still reluctant to wake after the delicious respite, lowered himself back into bed. Several seconds later, he reached for Tomoyo’s pillow and switched it with his own. The sweet familiar scent that filled his senses nearly lured him back to sleep, but he merely closed his eyes and indulged himself in the peaceful feeling, like crawling into his parents’ bed as a boy and nestling safely in between.
When he had washed and came downstairs, he found Tomoyo putting the finishing touch on their breakfast: Grilled fish, omelet rolls, miso soup, chilled tofu, seaweed, fluffy white rice, pickled vegetables, and a salad with tomato and cucumbers picked from their tiny garden behind the house. It was a proper Japanese breakfast, a feast compared to the toast and coffee he made for himself from Monday to Friday. Inhaling the atmosphere deeply, he quietly approached his wife from behind and pecked her on the cheek as he slipped his arms around her waist. “Good morning, honey.”
And she smiled, knowing he was there the whole time. “Good morning. Help me set the dishes?”
After she undid and hung up her apron, they sat down at the small dining table for two. She served the rice and he poured the tea, the window left open to allow a breeze from a perfect Saturday morning outside. Tomoyo waited until he took the first bite. “Good?”
He could not adore her enough. “Perfect.”
A few minutes into their meal, Touya picked up the remote control and turned on the television, the volume preset low but audible in the cozy confines of the kitchen. The morning news was on, and a young couple in their late twenties was the subject of an interview, one of those random local news bits covering the crushing weekend crowds.
“That’s right, we’ve been happily married for one full year now!” The husband, who had his hair dyed brown with streaks of yellow, wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“And now we’re even more in love than when we first met!” As the overly fashionable couple kissed, Touya winced inwardly at the public display. Both of them discreet personalities, he and Tomoyo at most held hands when they were out on busy streets, and the mere thought of kissing-or swallowing, as was the more appropriate description of the case at hand-on television seemed… weird to him.
At home and in private was a different matter altogether.
The young reporter seemed far more at ease faced with such behavior, or, as Touya keenly observed, was at least practiced at concealing his dismay. “Now that you’ve been together for one year, what are your plans for the immediate future?”
“Well… I was thinking it was about time we got around to making a baby.”
“Oh darling, announcing in front of all these people!” It was hard to tell whether a blush emerged underneath all the makeup, but it was evident that the woman was not displeased as she threw her arms around her mate, who laughed heartily in response. Soon the screen switched back to the anchor, and the news moved onto recaps of the previous evening’s reports. Touya’s face however remained fixed on the television; or more accurately, Touya’s face remained turned away from Tomoyo’s.
They had just celebrated their own first anniversary a month ago.
The coincidence, really no coincidence at all, would not have created such an awkward silence at the table had Touya not been contemplating the very same matter which his television counterpart had spouted out mere seconds ago. He’d considered it for weeks, and he knew she knew he was considering it, and had waited ever since their anniversary for the right moment to bring the issue up.
The right moment was supposed to be this morning at breakfast.
Touya found himself in a predicament; his initiative had been usurped, the mood was awkward, tension was high. To broach such a delicate issue now after the gaudy display on television could only come across as a joke, and he was certainly not in the mood for joking, although circumstance and a stranger with ugly hair might very well have taken that choice from him.
But what was Tomoyo’s reaction to all this? Trying and failing to conceal the embarrassment evident in his face, he slowly turned and cast a glance across the table towards her. A piece of cucumber between her chopsticks remained suspended between her bowl and her lips, which remained slightly parted as she appeared far away in thought. When she felt his gaze on her and their eyes met, the flair of color in her cheeks came close to resembling that of the pink sweater she wore.
Uh oh.
What had merely been the most important proposal he would ever make in life (other than the proposal he made to her)-starting a family-had just become even more difficult. It was as though time had been reset to more than a year ago, when they were just beginning to realize the extent of their feelings for one another. A time when the temperature went up as soon as their eyes met, a time when Touya lost his cool and Tomoyo’s tongue became inexplicably tied as soon as they found themselves alone like they were now.
So Touya Kinomoto, flustered and faced with no comfortable way out of the present situation, did the only thing he could: He reached for another slice of tomato.
And as he extended his arms across the table, his chopsticks came into contact with hers.
A long moment later, each withdrew their chopsticks without a word, and though he could not have imagined Tomoyo becoming even redder than she already was, he was sure that he was not much better himself as the two studied their rice bowls or anything else on the table besides each others’ burning faces. And once again, as they increasingly realized with each incident of its kind, they found themselves too perceptive of each other’s way of thinking for their own good.
Three Months Later
She was sitting before her dresser when she heard him. After checking herself in the mirror one last time, she quickly descended the stairs and caught him just as he stepped through the doorway, his briefcase slung over one shoulder. “I’m home.”
“Welcome back!” Tomoyo just managed to keep herself from flying into her husband as she threw her arms around him, paying little concern to the nicer dress she had put on for him.
“Well at least someone is happy to see me.” Touya lowered his head to kiss her on the cheek as his hands went to her side, pulling back a second later as he pressed the tip of his nose against her collar. “Is that… perfume I smell?”
Giggly slightly from the ticklish effect, she only smiled sweetly in return as she undid his tie, causing Touya to lift an eyebrow as she took his hand and led him inside. “Come on, dinner is ready.”
His eyes widened when he saw white linen covering their small dining table, at the center of which was a lit candle and a bowl of fresh flowers. Tomoyo produced a bottle of wine and two glasses from the cupboards, and he could no longer suppress his curiosity. “Wow… What are we celebrating?”
“Why don’t you take a guess?”
“Alright, umm… The brat got in an accident?”
She laughed as she pulled on a pair of mittens and reached into the oven, filling the room with the delicious aroma of his favorite meal. “Nope, would you bring the salad out of the refrigerator?”
“Darn, okay… You won that raffle at the supermarket for tickets to Hawaii?”
“Even better.”
“Better than Hawaii? I don’t know… how about a hint?” Touya grinned at his wife next to him, who appeared to be enjoying herself even more than usual.
“What day is today?”
“Sunday? Oh wait, you mean that, right? Bu that has nothing to do with us, it’s…” Touya never finished the sentence as the significance of the date caught up with him. Putting down the basket of bread, he gently but firmly put his hands over his wife’s shoulders, his voice lowered to a near inaudible tone that trembled with anticipation. “You tell me right now, Tomoyo.”
But the joy on her face had already given it away, even before she drew herself on tiptoe to kiss him and reply in a smiling whisper.
“Happy Father’s Day, Touya.”
~End
Author's Note: The Japanese celebrate Father's Day on the third Sunday of June, same as America.