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[rui]

dusting off my long-unused journal for a fic meme, because why not?

give me characters at least, and a prompt or picture is bonus! you'll get...something! a drabble or short fic. cause i'm bored and i need a thing to do.

Comments

[xiu]

I could be a dick and say

"One of my characters and one of your characters doing cute shit"

which you really could use but instead I'll think of something later |D

[xiu]

OKAY I WANT MAKO CUDDLES

GIVE ME MAKO CUDDLES ;A;

[hollowchild]

It's a long time before Jiu Wu admits that, maybe, loneliness is a good reason for inter-dimensional travel. By that time, it's a suffocating weight on his chest, and almost every night one of them is haunting his dreams. When even Xia Tian has noticed, has shoved him gently in that direction in the nervous, subservient way that Xia Tian has, Jiu Wu gives in.

They've changed. Takeru is wearing his hair differently, his wardrobe marked with subtle hints of green. Chiaki's hair is a little less orange, a little less spiky, his clothes a little less wrinkled since he's found a job. He stays in the mansion with them, drinking tea and eating cake and playing videogames like it's the old days.

It's not until the next day that he sees Mako, or, more precisely until a blur of sweater and long hair practically jumps into his arms, which Chiaki finds completely hilarious and even makes Takeru a little wide-eyed. Jiu Wu just spins her around, laughing.

"I missed you, my favorite pillow," she says, and Jiu Wu doesn't even have to think before he responds.

"Well, we can rectify that."

They spend the afternoon in a pile, the four of them, and they even let Chiaki pick the movies that they watch (because Chiaki is the only one who knows any movies). They could spend the time catching up, of course, but that's not really the point. What's happened in between isn't really the point at all.

At bedtime, Mako doesn't ask Jiu Wu if she can stay with him. She just knocks on the door to his room, waits a few heartbeats and comes in, sliding the door shut gently behind her. There's only one futon, but it's enough, especially in the cold of the evening.

"I did miss you," she murmurs into his chest.

"And you're still an excellent heater," he jokes, fingers sliding through her hair as he squeezes her to him. She laughs, a little, her arms tightening.

"It's a bit nostalgic."

"I think our accommodations are nicer. The bed was roomier there, though."

"You're terrible." But she's laughing again, which was the point. After nearly two days of this, he can finally feel himself relaxing, the weight of his mantle lightening. It won't last, but it helps a little. "How long will you stay?"

"I don't know. A few days." He can see her bite her lip in the dark, but she doesn't, in the end, say anything. Instead she shifts, weight pressing into his belly as she lifts her head and chest. He's still blinking in confusion when she leans in and kisses him, gently. There's no passion in it, just comfort, and he thinks back to the last time he saw her. She seems to be thinking of it too, because when she pulls away she kisses his forehead, then lays her head back down on his shoulder.

"This time, no one's leaving until we say goodbye properly," she says, tone quiet but sure.

"Sounds good to me," he answers, sets his chin on top of her head, and closes his eyes.