Fic: K2T (GwendalxGunter)
Title: K2T
Author: Lin
Rating: PG13
Characters/Pairings: GunterxGwendal
Genre: fluff
Chapter: one-shot
Summary: Gunter has boundary issues and steals Gwendal’s sweater.
Word count: 1.008
Author’s note: I wonder if Gwendal ever heard of the Curse of the Love Sweater? By the by, K2T is the term used for the knit stitch ‘knit two together’. It’s a decrease stitch, where you knit into two stitches at the same time so they become one single stitch. Also, I suppose that you could say this takes place after the events in my previous fics, though it can easily be read on its own.
Gwendal rarely knit large items. Stuffed toys and the occasional hat or scarf were his forte, as he did not have as much time for his hobby as he'd like and knitting small things was, in essence, quick and simple gratification. But he did know how to knit larger things, and he had done so in the past, even if it was just out of a compelling drive to master new skills.
Once upon a time he'd knit himself a sweater. He had ordered in a handsome dark green merino yarn, soft to the touch but not so fluffy as to be itchy, and had spent several weeks turning it into a simple stockinette stitch raglan sweater. It didn't turn out too well - he'd encountered some trouble with his gauge but stubbornly kept going, which meant that in the end the sweater had turned out a little on the large side. Still, it was wearable, and its size meant it was absolutely comfortable and very warm and cuddly. He was not the type of man to go around in public in a hand knit sweater anyway, and he found it quite perfect for quiet nights spend reading or knitting in his rooms. It was his sweater, he liked it, and he almost preferred that nobody really knew about its existence.
That was, nobody until his affair with Gunter began. The first few months seemed to take place entirely in Gunter's rooms - Gwendal would go to him, stay with him, and outside of the room they carefully avoided dropping any hints about their relationship to anyone. As time passed, however, Gunter began insisting on coming to Gwendal's room to spend time together as well.
Gwendal hadn't liked it at first. He was a very private person who had even forbidden the maids from entering to clean his room, and allowing Gunter entrance to his own space was a very, very large step for him. A step he only made, to be honest, because Gunter had thrown a massive fit outside his door, and allowing him to intrude on his privacy had been a better option than the entire castle finding out about the two of them because Gunter was being so loud.
Gunter's reaction to his room had been highly annoying - he’d raged on about how clean and orderly everything was despite the fact that Gwendal cleaned it himself (and why wouldn't it be? Did Gunter suppose that simple housekeeping would be beyond him? The assumption was quite offensive), and then he'd gone on to pick up and fondle every single one of his stuffed toys, not getting the species of any of them right, and to make matters even worse he'd rifled through his yarn stash and had messed up his carefully coded system for keeping it organized. He'd made Gunter pay for that, of course (loudly moaning his name, clinging to the headboard of his bed, but that aside).
After the initial intrusion Gunter's visits to his rooms became more frequent. Brief visits turned into evenings spent together, evenings spent together turned into nights (and Gwendal did have to admit that making love to Gunter in his own bed, and waking up in his own room in the morning with him snuggled up against him, did have its charm), and after not too long he found out that Gunter actually started spending time in his room when Gwendal himself was not in it.
Unnerving, that was. He surely hoped Gunter wouldn't, say, go through his stuff. Not that Gwendal necessarily had any stuff that he would not allow Gunter to see, but. It was his stuff. He didn't like other people touching it.
So walking into his room one evening and finding Gunter curled up in an armchair, a big book open on his lap, wearing Gwendal's handknit green sweater, was something of a shock to him.
"That's my sweater," he’d pointed out.
"Oh, yes, you don't mind do you?" Gunter had answered .
Gwendal scowled. "I love that sweater. Did you just take it out of my wardrobe?"
Gunter blushed and smiled sheepishly. "I did. I'm sorry. I just... well, I was cold, and I'd seen this in your wardrobe before -" Gunter went through his wardrobe? Gunter went through his wardrobe before?? "- and it looked so nice, and, well, I'm sorry, it's just really comfortable and warm and it kind of smells like you and... okay, I'll take it off."
He stood up to pull the sweater off. Gwendal blinked, surveying him. The sweater was large on himself, but Gunter positively drowned in it. The neckline was far too wide, the fabric hung off him, the length was almost ridiculous and his sleeves were overly long. Yet he looked... cute. Really cute. The large sweater made him seem smaller, and green looked surprisingly good on him - Gwendal had only seen him wear light colours before - and he had looked nice and cosy all curled up in that armchair... Gwendal's cheeks turned pink.
"No no, don't, it's - it's okay. Wear it," he sighed, stepping forward to place his hands on Gunter's arms. Gunter looked up at him, beaming. "Really?"
"Yes, really... it's fine. It... looks nice on you." Gwendal also had to admit that seeing Gunter wear something he had painstakingly put together with his own two hands was... nice. Strangely domestic.
Gwendal plopped down in the armchair and pulled Gunter down on top of him. Gunter laughed softly, curling up on his lap, his head resting on Gwendal's shoulder. He placed the book on his knees and continued reading. Gwendal wrapped his arms around his waist. The softness and bulk of the sweater made it feel like he was cuddling a Gunter-sized, Gunter-shaped stuffed animal. Gunter had said that the sweater had smelled a little like him - Gwendal realized that next time he wore it, the sweater would now smell a little like Gunter. The thought made him blush again.
Still, though. His sweater. Perhaps he should consider knitting Gunter his own...
Author: Lin
Rating: PG13
Characters/Pairings: GunterxGwendal
Genre: fluff
Chapter: one-shot
Summary: Gunter has boundary issues and steals Gwendal’s sweater.
Word count: 1.008
Author’s note: I wonder if Gwendal ever heard of the Curse of the Love Sweater? By the by, K2T is the term used for the knit stitch ‘knit two together’. It’s a decrease stitch, where you knit into two stitches at the same time so they become one single stitch. Also, I suppose that you could say this takes place after the events in my previous fics, though it can easily be read on its own.
Gwendal rarely knit large items. Stuffed toys and the occasional hat or scarf were his forte, as he did not have as much time for his hobby as he'd like and knitting small things was, in essence, quick and simple gratification. But he did know how to knit larger things, and he had done so in the past, even if it was just out of a compelling drive to master new skills.
Once upon a time he'd knit himself a sweater. He had ordered in a handsome dark green merino yarn, soft to the touch but not so fluffy as to be itchy, and had spent several weeks turning it into a simple stockinette stitch raglan sweater. It didn't turn out too well - he'd encountered some trouble with his gauge but stubbornly kept going, which meant that in the end the sweater had turned out a little on the large side. Still, it was wearable, and its size meant it was absolutely comfortable and very warm and cuddly. He was not the type of man to go around in public in a hand knit sweater anyway, and he found it quite perfect for quiet nights spend reading or knitting in his rooms. It was his sweater, he liked it, and he almost preferred that nobody really knew about its existence.
That was, nobody until his affair with Gunter began. The first few months seemed to take place entirely in Gunter's rooms - Gwendal would go to him, stay with him, and outside of the room they carefully avoided dropping any hints about their relationship to anyone. As time passed, however, Gunter began insisting on coming to Gwendal's room to spend time together as well.
Gwendal hadn't liked it at first. He was a very private person who had even forbidden the maids from entering to clean his room, and allowing Gunter entrance to his own space was a very, very large step for him. A step he only made, to be honest, because Gunter had thrown a massive fit outside his door, and allowing him to intrude on his privacy had been a better option than the entire castle finding out about the two of them because Gunter was being so loud.
Gunter's reaction to his room had been highly annoying - he’d raged on about how clean and orderly everything was despite the fact that Gwendal cleaned it himself (and why wouldn't it be? Did Gunter suppose that simple housekeeping would be beyond him? The assumption was quite offensive), and then he'd gone on to pick up and fondle every single one of his stuffed toys, not getting the species of any of them right, and to make matters even worse he'd rifled through his yarn stash and had messed up his carefully coded system for keeping it organized. He'd made Gunter pay for that, of course (loudly moaning his name, clinging to the headboard of his bed, but that aside).
After the initial intrusion Gunter's visits to his rooms became more frequent. Brief visits turned into evenings spent together, evenings spent together turned into nights (and Gwendal did have to admit that making love to Gunter in his own bed, and waking up in his own room in the morning with him snuggled up against him, did have its charm), and after not too long he found out that Gunter actually started spending time in his room when Gwendal himself was not in it.
Unnerving, that was. He surely hoped Gunter wouldn't, say, go through his stuff. Not that Gwendal necessarily had any stuff that he would not allow Gunter to see, but. It was his stuff. He didn't like other people touching it.
So walking into his room one evening and finding Gunter curled up in an armchair, a big book open on his lap, wearing Gwendal's handknit green sweater, was something of a shock to him.
"That's my sweater," he’d pointed out.
"Oh, yes, you don't mind do you?" Gunter had answered .
Gwendal scowled. "I love that sweater. Did you just take it out of my wardrobe?"
Gunter blushed and smiled sheepishly. "I did. I'm sorry. I just... well, I was cold, and I'd seen this in your wardrobe before -" Gunter went through his wardrobe? Gunter went through his wardrobe before?? "- and it looked so nice, and, well, I'm sorry, it's just really comfortable and warm and it kind of smells like you and... okay, I'll take it off."
He stood up to pull the sweater off. Gwendal blinked, surveying him. The sweater was large on himself, but Gunter positively drowned in it. The neckline was far too wide, the fabric hung off him, the length was almost ridiculous and his sleeves were overly long. Yet he looked... cute. Really cute. The large sweater made him seem smaller, and green looked surprisingly good on him - Gwendal had only seen him wear light colours before - and he had looked nice and cosy all curled up in that armchair... Gwendal's cheeks turned pink.
"No no, don't, it's - it's okay. Wear it," he sighed, stepping forward to place his hands on Gunter's arms. Gunter looked up at him, beaming. "Really?"
"Yes, really... it's fine. It... looks nice on you." Gwendal also had to admit that seeing Gunter wear something he had painstakingly put together with his own two hands was... nice. Strangely domestic.
Gwendal plopped down in the armchair and pulled Gunter down on top of him. Gunter laughed softly, curling up on his lap, his head resting on Gwendal's shoulder. He placed the book on his knees and continued reading. Gwendal wrapped his arms around his waist. The softness and bulk of the sweater made it feel like he was cuddling a Gunter-sized, Gunter-shaped stuffed animal. Gunter had said that the sweater had smelled a little like him - Gwendal realized that next time he wore it, the sweater would now smell a little like Gunter. The thought made him blush again.
Still, though. His sweater. Perhaps he should consider knitting Gunter his own...