for truffs

Date: 2014-02-05 10:26 am (UTC)
aurallyfixated: (pricked)
It's a strange thing to forget, but it's not until she's got a pile of exhausted, heartbroken cat leaning against her that Heather remembers she's actually smaller than Konoe. Maybe it's just because she's used to seeing him with Asato for context, taller and darker and more muscled, that she thinks of Konoe as small and pale and slight. It's probably at least partially the fact that she doesn't think of herself as small. It's still a surprise to her when she finally, finally coaxes him into laying down and she can't do the thing.

It had been a good plan, she thought – not to make him forget about Asato's extended sleep, she's pretty sure nothing short of brain surgery would do the trick there, but to try to make him feel safe enough to close his damn eyes and grab maybe an hour. Hell, she'd settle for half. But when she tucks herself in behind him and curls her arms around him he's taller and broader than she is, and that's not how this is supposed to work, right?

She gives it her best goddamn shot anyway. Strokes her hand softly over his arm, quietly hums a tune her father sang to her when she was small, because she dimly remembers there's something about music, about singing. And it's – well, it's fucking weird. Konoe's too big for her to think of him as a child, and too much Asato's goddamn boyfriend for her not to feel just a little weird despite her pure intentions and the complete and utter lack of sexual anything between them. It's weird, but she sticks it out, stroking and humming, and then all at once the tension seems to go out of both of them and it's not weird at all.

His breathing changes, slower, heavier. She leans her head in close to press a sisterly kiss to his pale hair, and reminds herself to save the high-five for when he wakes up.
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February 2014

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