Drabbles: Love - Part 6
Title: Love. Drabbles #51-60
Rating: PG
Fandom: Digimon (Daikeru)
051 - Diamond
Taichi proposes to Sora one sunny day in late July.
It’s an elaborate affair, flowers and suits and flowing dresses. Gelled hair, polished shoes and one big fat diamond ring.
She says yes, and in a matter of hours everyone knows.
Daisuke answers the phone, greeted by Taichi’s quivering voice. Excitement. Anxiousness. Blatant shock that the girl that this boy has been crushing on for the last several years has said yes. Yes to spending the rest of her life with him.
And Daisuke’s happy for Tai, he really is. Just maybe a tiny, teensy little part of him remembers some crush from a thousand years ago. A fluttering heart as hands much bigger than his own handed him a pair of goggles, each lense more sentimental than the last. Maybe a little part of him remembers that hero-worship, the constant butterflies, the swelling of his brain in his head.
Tai was amazing really. Just so utterly, utterly infatuated with that girl.
So utterly, utterly out of reach.
“Who was that?” Takeru calls, limbs swung over the edges of the sofa as he reads the latest copy of some social justice magazine.
“No-one.” Daisuke says, and they’ll probably fight about it later, but he really doesn’t want to make mention of this latest engagement.
052 - Couch
Daisuke says that to properly induct their new apartment, they must have sex on their brand new (second-hand) sofa.
Takeru’s not quite sure what to make of this, because he really, really likes that sofa, and the thought of any stains on it kinda makes him cringe.
He’s not a girl or anything, just it is a new (second-hand) sofa.
“C’mon” Daisuke pouts, sprawling himself over the gradually sinking cushions of this emerald-green sofa. “’m horny.”
Takeru rolls his eyes, fingering the small packaged condom in his back pocket.
“Fine.” He mutters, ignoring his boyfriends face as it lights up, “But I’m top.”
053 - Shoes
“What about these?” Hikari called from under approximately 3000 pairs of shoes. A pale hand shot up from somewhere within the pile, what could only be a white stiletto clutched desperately in its grasp.
Daisuke and Takeru sat sprawled on the girl’s bed, trying in vain to ignore the onslaught of pink currently blinding them.
“I dunno,” Takeru stated, running a hand through his blond hair, “sure.”
Apparently, the hand did in fact have a body attached to it, as Hikari emerged from the shoe pile like some sort of shaken hero…or vicious mutated shoe beast.
“You’ve said that for the last seven pairs, Takeru. I need your honest opinion, this is one of the most important nights of my life.”
Takeru rolled his eyes, pulling Daisuke’s snoring form off his shoulder. “It’s just a date, Kari, and to be honest, guys don’t really notice what shoes you’re wearing.”
Hikari snorted, storming over to the bed and yanking at the sleeping Daisuke’s hair, ignoring his yelp as he rubbed blearily at his head.
“Some gay men you guys are!”
Takeru just sighed, ignoring Hikari’s watery eyes and Daisuke’s angry mumbles. It just wasn’t worth it.
054 - Shirt
One day, Daisuke bought a shirt which he really had doubts about.
It was exceptionally tight, dark and kinda shiny. There are a thousand other terms he could use to describe it, but he’s sorta dumb, and the whole vocabulary thing has always been more of Takeru’s…thing.
So he bought this shirt against his better judgement, and that worried him a bit, as he doesn’t tend to listen to the quieter voice in his head. (The loud one, y’know, the one he normally listens too, had been screaming “NO, NO! Do you want to look that gay?!”)
He slid it on and wore it home though, ignoring the curious looks he got as he walked down the street. Worse comes to worse, he can always say he’s going to a Halloween party.
Sliding the key into the lock, anxiety starts to pummel through his veins, and maybe he’s sorta unsure of what exactly Takeru is going to say.
He doesn’t have to wonder though, as in a matter of seconds the door is flung open, and Takeru stands opposite him, blond hair hidden beneath a green bandana.
“Huh.” Takeru says, eyes wide, and Daisuke shifts uncomfortably, running a tanned hand through his hair.
The next series of events happened so quickly, that the red-head lost track of exactly how it all occurred, but really, all you need to know is that it involved a fair amount of sex.
055 - Bag
If Jun were to empty her purse, right here, right now, one would hardly be surprised at the findings. For this frilly little beige purse withholds nothing unusual for that of a 21-year-old woman. At least, not at first glance.
Lipstick (3 tubes, pink, red and black), nailpolish, wallet, keys, paperclips, tampons, a few clipped and cut and worn photographs.
Of her family, of her friends, one of the back of Yamato’s head and another of him with Sora. A photo of her and her brother, a photo of her brother and Takeru.
He’d be embarrassed if he saw it, Daisuke that is…even more embarrassed to know she shows her friends and colleagues the photos of them sometimes, squealing “My baby brother got himself a man!”
He’d be embarrassed to know that she’s proud of him, and that she approves of them more than anything else in the world, even when the senior Motomiya’s don’t.
056 - Bed.
When they move into their first apartment together, they can’t afford a double bed. They’ll have to settle for a single.
At first it’s great, both crammed in so close that they breath the same air, so close they rub and touch and kiss. It’s an endless supply of body warmth, of closure and love. Of course, when they move in, it’s winter.
As summer comes a knocking, all that excess heat and touching does is prolong suffering. Heated fingertips are too hot, too moist and sweaty. The bed is suddenly really really small, much smaller than either of them remember it being.
Needless to say, it was only a matter of days before they tracked down a second-hand double bed.
057 - Window
Daisuke’s room has a huge window. Seriously. It’s like, massive.
He covers it with flannel, blue; pin-stripe curtains, which Takeru is half-convinced were made out of pyjama pants and on the glass Dais has somehow managed to cover pretty much the entire thing with anime stickers.
Why is he saying this? Because currently, Daisuke and Takeru are having a fight. A big fight, a seriously massive, volcano-erupting sort of fight. And Takeru is standing on the sidewalk, watching in a slight amount of despair as his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) throws his belongings onto the sidewalk.
(In reality this isn’t a lot, after all, this is the Motomiya apartment, and Takeru’s never really liked leaving his stuff at other people’s houses).
Soon enough, there’s a few school text books, a shirt and a box of cigarettes lying beside the blond on the sidewalk.
“Fuck off, TI, I hope you fucking burn in hell!”
Takeru didn’t really respond, just nodded sharply, and picked up his things. He’d apologize in the morning.
058 - Wall
When they first started dating there were a thousand barriers, a thousand limits and awkward silences and things that they just didn’t talk about.
Daisuke hated this, because all of these walls were on Takeru’s part. Takeru’s barriers, Takeru’s problems, that darkness that Takeru always ignored.
Daisuke didn’t hide any part of himself.
Didn’t like it, then you could piss off.
Daisuke didn’t have things that he didn’t talk about.
Everything was worth talking about.
Takeru had problems and secrets and thoughts that he didn’t like to share. A head full of a different voice to what actually came out of his mouth, a heart full of secrets.
Takeru didn’t talk about his parents.
Didn’t talk about the divorce.
Didn’t talk about the first time round in the digital world, when he was little.
Didn’t talk about Hikari or Yamato or Taichi…not seriously.
Not back then anyway.
059 - Mirror
Everyone says that Takeru and Daisuke are the next generation.
The new Yamato and Taichi.
Maybe this is sorta, kinda true.
They look the part.
But Yamato and Taichi don’t make out in the toilet stalls at the cinema.
At least, not anymore.
060 - Carpet
Rug burn is a bitch.
And that’s all there is to it.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Digimon (Daikeru)
051 - Diamond
Taichi proposes to Sora one sunny day in late July.
It’s an elaborate affair, flowers and suits and flowing dresses. Gelled hair, polished shoes and one big fat diamond ring.
She says yes, and in a matter of hours everyone knows.
Daisuke answers the phone, greeted by Taichi’s quivering voice. Excitement. Anxiousness. Blatant shock that the girl that this boy has been crushing on for the last several years has said yes. Yes to spending the rest of her life with him.
And Daisuke’s happy for Tai, he really is. Just maybe a tiny, teensy little part of him remembers some crush from a thousand years ago. A fluttering heart as hands much bigger than his own handed him a pair of goggles, each lense more sentimental than the last. Maybe a little part of him remembers that hero-worship, the constant butterflies, the swelling of his brain in his head.
Tai was amazing really. Just so utterly, utterly infatuated with that girl.
So utterly, utterly out of reach.
“Who was that?” Takeru calls, limbs swung over the edges of the sofa as he reads the latest copy of some social justice magazine.
“No-one.” Daisuke says, and they’ll probably fight about it later, but he really doesn’t want to make mention of this latest engagement.
052 - Couch
Daisuke says that to properly induct their new apartment, they must have sex on their brand new (second-hand) sofa.
Takeru’s not quite sure what to make of this, because he really, really likes that sofa, and the thought of any stains on it kinda makes him cringe.
He’s not a girl or anything, just it is a new (second-hand) sofa.
“C’mon” Daisuke pouts, sprawling himself over the gradually sinking cushions of this emerald-green sofa. “’m horny.”
Takeru rolls his eyes, fingering the small packaged condom in his back pocket.
“Fine.” He mutters, ignoring his boyfriends face as it lights up, “But I’m top.”
053 - Shoes
“What about these?” Hikari called from under approximately 3000 pairs of shoes. A pale hand shot up from somewhere within the pile, what could only be a white stiletto clutched desperately in its grasp.
Daisuke and Takeru sat sprawled on the girl’s bed, trying in vain to ignore the onslaught of pink currently blinding them.
“I dunno,” Takeru stated, running a hand through his blond hair, “sure.”
Apparently, the hand did in fact have a body attached to it, as Hikari emerged from the shoe pile like some sort of shaken hero…or vicious mutated shoe beast.
“You’ve said that for the last seven pairs, Takeru. I need your honest opinion, this is one of the most important nights of my life.”
Takeru rolled his eyes, pulling Daisuke’s snoring form off his shoulder. “It’s just a date, Kari, and to be honest, guys don’t really notice what shoes you’re wearing.”
Hikari snorted, storming over to the bed and yanking at the sleeping Daisuke’s hair, ignoring his yelp as he rubbed blearily at his head.
“Some gay men you guys are!”
Takeru just sighed, ignoring Hikari’s watery eyes and Daisuke’s angry mumbles. It just wasn’t worth it.
054 - Shirt
One day, Daisuke bought a shirt which he really had doubts about.
It was exceptionally tight, dark and kinda shiny. There are a thousand other terms he could use to describe it, but he’s sorta dumb, and the whole vocabulary thing has always been more of Takeru’s…thing.
So he bought this shirt against his better judgement, and that worried him a bit, as he doesn’t tend to listen to the quieter voice in his head. (The loud one, y’know, the one he normally listens too, had been screaming “NO, NO! Do you want to look that gay?!”)
He slid it on and wore it home though, ignoring the curious looks he got as he walked down the street. Worse comes to worse, he can always say he’s going to a Halloween party.
Sliding the key into the lock, anxiety starts to pummel through his veins, and maybe he’s sorta unsure of what exactly Takeru is going to say.
He doesn’t have to wonder though, as in a matter of seconds the door is flung open, and Takeru stands opposite him, blond hair hidden beneath a green bandana.
“Huh.” Takeru says, eyes wide, and Daisuke shifts uncomfortably, running a tanned hand through his hair.
The next series of events happened so quickly, that the red-head lost track of exactly how it all occurred, but really, all you need to know is that it involved a fair amount of sex.
055 - Bag
If Jun were to empty her purse, right here, right now, one would hardly be surprised at the findings. For this frilly little beige purse withholds nothing unusual for that of a 21-year-old woman. At least, not at first glance.
Lipstick (3 tubes, pink, red and black), nailpolish, wallet, keys, paperclips, tampons, a few clipped and cut and worn photographs.
Of her family, of her friends, one of the back of Yamato’s head and another of him with Sora. A photo of her and her brother, a photo of her brother and Takeru.
He’d be embarrassed if he saw it, Daisuke that is…even more embarrassed to know she shows her friends and colleagues the photos of them sometimes, squealing “My baby brother got himself a man!”
He’d be embarrassed to know that she’s proud of him, and that she approves of them more than anything else in the world, even when the senior Motomiya’s don’t.
056 - Bed.
When they move into their first apartment together, they can’t afford a double bed. They’ll have to settle for a single.
At first it’s great, both crammed in so close that they breath the same air, so close they rub and touch and kiss. It’s an endless supply of body warmth, of closure and love. Of course, when they move in, it’s winter.
As summer comes a knocking, all that excess heat and touching does is prolong suffering. Heated fingertips are too hot, too moist and sweaty. The bed is suddenly really really small, much smaller than either of them remember it being.
Needless to say, it was only a matter of days before they tracked down a second-hand double bed.
057 - Window
Daisuke’s room has a huge window. Seriously. It’s like, massive.
He covers it with flannel, blue; pin-stripe curtains, which Takeru is half-convinced were made out of pyjama pants and on the glass Dais has somehow managed to cover pretty much the entire thing with anime stickers.
Why is he saying this? Because currently, Daisuke and Takeru are having a fight. A big fight, a seriously massive, volcano-erupting sort of fight. And Takeru is standing on the sidewalk, watching in a slight amount of despair as his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) throws his belongings onto the sidewalk.
(In reality this isn’t a lot, after all, this is the Motomiya apartment, and Takeru’s never really liked leaving his stuff at other people’s houses).
Soon enough, there’s a few school text books, a shirt and a box of cigarettes lying beside the blond on the sidewalk.
“Fuck off, TI, I hope you fucking burn in hell!”
Takeru didn’t really respond, just nodded sharply, and picked up his things. He’d apologize in the morning.
058 - Wall
When they first started dating there were a thousand barriers, a thousand limits and awkward silences and things that they just didn’t talk about.
Daisuke hated this, because all of these walls were on Takeru’s part. Takeru’s barriers, Takeru’s problems, that darkness that Takeru always ignored.
Daisuke didn’t hide any part of himself.
Didn’t like it, then you could piss off.
Daisuke didn’t have things that he didn’t talk about.
Everything was worth talking about.
Takeru had problems and secrets and thoughts that he didn’t like to share. A head full of a different voice to what actually came out of his mouth, a heart full of secrets.
Takeru didn’t talk about his parents.
Didn’t talk about the divorce.
Didn’t talk about the first time round in the digital world, when he was little.
Didn’t talk about Hikari or Yamato or Taichi…not seriously.
Not back then anyway.
059 - Mirror
Everyone says that Takeru and Daisuke are the next generation.
The new Yamato and Taichi.
Maybe this is sorta, kinda true.
They look the part.
But Yamato and Taichi don’t make out in the toilet stalls at the cinema.
At least, not anymore.
060 - Carpet
Rug burn is a bitch.
And that’s all there is to it.