it's too dark in here

Birth (Eriol gen)

2009-11-10T15:28:32Z

Title: Birth
Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura
Length: 689 words
Prompt: fic-or-treat: Eriol - memories for chibidl
Pairing: Eriol gen; hints of Clow/Yuuko
Other: n/a

Excerpt: Eriol rocked back and forth, trying not to fall over. He rested unfamiliar hands on unfamiliar knees, inhaling as though his lungs were new. They were. But Clow hadn't expected it to be like this.

The first breath was the most painful one. Eriol rocked back and forth, trying not to fall over. He rested unfamiliar hands on unfamiliar knees, inhaling as though his lungs were new. They were. But he hadn't expected--

Clow hadn't expected it to be like this.

He wasn't very good at separating his memories, even later when the trauma of his birth had faded and he was Eriol, with his own life and guardians. So he could say to Ruby that he liked Tomoeda because it was where he'd died. (Clow would have appreciated the touch of melodrama.)

When his breath became regular and less painful, he looked over with blurred eyes at his counterpart, who was dealing with the same thing, but twice as disoriented. Fujitaka had no memories of his past life to guide him, beyond those deep memories that all humans have. He knew how to breathe, and walk; he knew his name. But he had no past, only this present, and it was no wonder he had sat down to catch his breath, looking confused.

Eriol moved shakily, each step a struggle against a mind used to longer strides and a taller stance. He picked the glasses off the table and handed Fujitaka his pair.

That was better, though the press of the frames on his ears felt strange. Clow had been used to glasses without arms, which hadn't been available when he was young. These probably wouldn't fall off if he got too excited, at least.

Now that Eriol could see, he sank back into his favorite chair, feeling impossibly small as he did so. His feet dangled. He inhaled and began to speak, surprising himself when he did. Of course his voice would be different; he had a different throat now.

"We can stay here a couple of days," he said. "Then I'll take you to her. She'll get you settled in."

He thought of Yuuko with a pang, and even a small touch of embarrassment. He could see the expression on her face already: amusement at his new appearance, which hid a sadness she'd never admit, followed by irritation. He really did ask too much of her. He always had.

He wouldn't stay with her. Nor would Fujitaka, but he wouldn't hurt her quite as badly. The other child was a stranger, but Eriol looked just like Clow had when he was young. The dream must end, he had said to her when he left, instead of I-love-you's or goodbyes, the words that he was good at. He could still feel the bitter taste of it in his mouth, the unfinished way he'd taken his leave and left her behind to wait.

And Eriol was still pursuing that dream to conclusion. Fujitaka was innocent. He was perhaps the boy that Clow could have been without magic. He'd be a good cook and he'd had a brilliant mind. He'd be fine with Yuuko until she could find him a place to stay, even though she would be snappish and moody. Fujitaka would just smile in puzzlement. He had nothing to feel guilty for.

"I think I'd like a nap," Fujitaka said. He wobbled to the door, but paused with his hand on the frame. "Are you all right?" he asked the boy overshadowed by high-backed armchair.

"I will be," he replied, smiling, and at least that felt familiar, and not new. "There is an empty bedroom two doors down. Feel free to sleep."

Fujitaka pushed his glasses up on his nose and nodded. "Thank you very much."

Eriol leaned back in the chair, gripping the armrests, and he dreamed. That was a habit he never could quite break. No more alcohol, no more Yuuko, but still he saw too much. He screwed his eyes shut against the visions, and before he drifted into normal sleep, he felt a small amount of relief.

At least, he thought, Clow was nearing the end. As long as it all stayed true to plan, he would achieve his goal.

He dreamed of bright green eyes and an infectious smile.

Everything would be all right.

Painter, Painted (Clow/Yuuko)

2009-11-10T15:25:49Z

Title: Painter, Painted
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 2496 words
Prompt: springkink 7 Nov 09: XXXholic, Clow/Yuuko: sensual usage of magic - magic inside of your fingertips
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: R for explicit sex. Set pre-series, some spoilers for about ch182 of xH.

Excerpt: "You are, in fact," she says dramatically, "the least likable person that I know. You're kind to everyone, and never angry, and you let everyone take advantage of you."

Clow lifts his eyebrows. "Really?" he says. "And here I thought friendliness was a pleasant trait. I shall stop it at once."

They are magicians, with power that spills from them, slips out, flows, escapes. You can dam a river, it could be said, but the water sloshes over its banks, dampening the ground nearby. The greatest magician in the world, and the greatest witch: between the two of them, they can cross space-time, clone a god, remake the pasts of worlds.

(And they could do those things individually, and have before, but it suits them to work magic together now, this century, so they do.)

They are careful, with power like that. Clow seals his into Cards and creatures and future plans. He, even more than she, reins himself back, hides his strength behind laughing eyes and a paternal appearance.

He's lived for seven hundred years, and would doubtlessly live for hundreds more. Sometimes she teases him about this, sliding over drunkenly to rest her head in his lap.

"You," Yuuko breathes, tracing his mouth with her fingertips, "were three hundred seventeen years old when I was born." She grins. "Old man."

Clow leans down and kisses her, his hands tangled in the hair at the back of her neck, lifting her gently to make the angle less awkward. She tastes of smoke and sake and the dinner he prepared before they'd retired here to her parlor; or at least, what he thinks of as a parlor, as he's spent too much time in England to not make the comparison. This is where she entertains her clients, but the shop is closed tonight, as much as it ever is, and he is the only one she shares her couch with, and her booze.

"What does that say about you, then?" he asks, breaking the kiss, eyes bright with his next quip. "That you like old men?"

"I don't think I ever said I liked you," Yuuko replies, her tone sharp. He seems unbothered by her vitrol. He has a calm personality, and he's spent too much time with her to listen to the words on the surface.

So he's unsurprised when she sits up again, and cups his face in her hands. She stares at him, her face too close, dark red eyes bright with drink and her mood.

"You are, in fact," she says dramatically, "the least likable person that I know. You're kind to everyone, and never angry, and you let everyone take advantage of you."

Clow lifts his eyebrows. "Really?" he says. "And here I thought friendliness was a pleasant trait. I shall stop it at once."

He shuts his eyes as her fingernails tighten against his skin a little and she sweeps them down his neck, slipping just a moment under his collar before she pulls away and picks up her cup.

"It's the advantage part that gets you into trouble," she answers, tucking herself into his lap without spilling her drink. Her legs are warm around his hips and the front part of her dress has, of necessity, puddled there between them, the bright red silk more of a contrast to her pale thighs than a covering. Most of her dresses are slit up the sides to her hips for ease of movement and seductive purposes.

He doesn't have a cup of his own, and she hasn't poured him one, so he waits as she downs hers and sets it down and then captures her mouth, taking her lip in his teeth. She doesn't quite shudder but she shifts, just a little bit, pressing closer, and opens her mouth enough that he can kiss her and taste the wine.

When that kiss breaks, a few languorous moments later, he smiles. "I might be taking advantage of you, instead of the other way around," he teases.

She throws her head back and laughs; her breasts bounce, and as they are nearly in Clow's face, he can hardly be blamed for appreciating them. But when his hands slide up her waist, she catches them, pressing them back down open-palmed against the bare skin of her legs, and she holds them there, leaning forward again to bite at his neck.

She licks his pulse and a small sound escapes him. She purrs against his skin in victory and lets his hands go so she can use hers to unfasten the buttons of his shirt.

But when he moves again, she pulls back and unfastens her hair, letting it slide down her back, an ebony river trailing off the edge of the couch. Before he can protest she's taken his hands again, pressed them together, and tied them with the hair ribbon and with magic. She lifts his arms enough to sidle underneath, letting his hands come to rest on the small of her back, and then she grins.

"No, I think I will certainly be taking advantage of you," she says.

"You didn't have to use magic," he answers, somewhat surprised by her choice to do so. He'd never mention it, because he is a polite man, but he would have no trouble breaking any of her spells. And she would never mention it, because it annoys her, but she knows. They might be very powerful people, but there's a gaping difference in their strengths, even still.

"I wanted to be sure you'd behave," she returns, and in her eyes there is the challenge, but he's certainly not going to complain. Yuuko is in his lap, after all. He's already won.

(Seducing her isn't nearly as easy as one might assume from the clothing that she wears. There is a woman, after all, underneath the silk and lace, ribbons and velvet corsets, who knows her own mind and is unafraid to share it. He had to lust after her mind before she would even consider the other kind of lust. Luckily, he's always thought she is incredibly brilliant. Especially right now.)

"I'll behave," he answers, to placate her, and she bites his earlobe.

"You're too nice," she growls, stripping his shirt from him, and he spends a moment mourning it because it was a nice shirt before she set its seams asunder. Granted, that is a quicker solution than letting him have his hands back and removing it in a conventional manner.

They usually don't use magic during sex; it's hard enough to control when one is sober (or as sober as Yuuko gets, anyway). It's easier to slip too much power in with one's enthusiasm. But once in a while, if they are careful, the thrill and the caution merge together and make something interesting.

Her teeth are on his nipple, then, and he bites his lip and wants to run his hands up her back and through her hair and across her chest. He loves her breasts, the soft sounds she makes when he kisses them, their weight in his hands.

And Clow Reed might be a pushover, but he considers himself and Yuuko Ichihara to be equals, in mind if not in power, and so he sees nothing wrong at all in turning the tables on her.

He pulls free of her bond and slides carefully sideways, pulling her with him, so that his back is no longer against the seat of the couch and he has more room to move. Her expression is clearly irritated, but he takes her collar and pulls her down for a kiss, unfastening the ties of her Mandarin-style dress and slipping it off of her shoulders.

"Cheater," she says, but then gasps when his hands trace across her skin. She used a dusting of her magic to make her ribbon knots hold, but he is painting it across her flesh, leaving a visual glitter because it amuses him. He traces a heart across her right collarbone and a crescent moon onto her left breast.

"Show-off," she says then, and he laughs, just a little.

"Ssh," he answers, kissing his fingertips and pressing them to her mouth, and she shakes her head at his sappy gesture, but she takes his hand and sucks on his fingers.

She can feel his desire pressing against her. He takes his hand back, kissing her slowly and softly, but his fingers slide down her stomach. Her dress has slipped down here to her waist, and he helps her slide it the rest of the way off, down her legs, without stopping his relentless trail of kisses. She might have ruined his shirt, but he will be paying for a torn dress for the rest of his existence, he knows, if he tries the same trick.

His fingers are warm as he slips them into her underwear, and her breath catches against his mouth as he rubs at her sensitive areas. He has a certain magic here, too, but a more mundane kind. He knows the way she likes to be touched, and he'd never forget something as important as that.

She scratches his back and leaves him a trail of lovebites across his shoulders, but after a while her hands pause, and clutch at his thighs, and she moans, "Clow...," and the demand in her voice makes his want for her even sharper.

So he pulls his hand from her warmth and lets her press him flat against the couch and liberate him from his pants and underwear. She licks him once, her expression almost mischievous as she glances up to see his reaction, a swift intake of breath and rolling of his eyes in pleasure.

And with that encouragement, she takes him in her mouth and sucks, just a little, but it is enough to make him clutch at the couch and sigh. She's just as good at driving him wild as he is at touching her. They have had a lot of practice over these past decades.

She slides her underwear off and then settles down onto him, sighing with satisfaction. He rests a hand on her hip, lifting the other to brush her hair from her face.

"You're beautiful," he says, sighing.

"You're a sap," she answers, and it's a familiar refrain, but he will never quit telling her that she's beautiful, a goddess with dark hair and bright red lips, and she will never stop smiling a little when he does.

She leans forward over him and takes the glasses from his nose and tosses them toward the coffee table, cushioning them as an afterthought before they strike the wood. And then she kisses him sloppily and begins to move, her hips rolling against his.

He reaches up and grabs her breasts, trailing magic again, shocking her with the headiness of his power. Her back arches and her movements become more insistent. But never one to be outdone, she leans forward again and traces her name across his chest, her fingers painting warmly and wetly across his skin.

(She does not own him, except for these moments. They have spent time apart and time together, and there have been decades in which they haven't touched at all, and others where sex is all that they do when they are together. They are friends, and they are lovers, and they are Clow and Yuuko-- but they belong to themselves, even if their destinies are tangled.

And until that moment, they will both believe this.)

He laughs and grabs her hand and takes the paint-spell from her to splash it across her breasts, so that one of her nipples is purple and the other, as he shifts the color of the paint, is the exact shade of her eyes.

She laughs too and gives him a green paint mustache, one with curling ends, before her focus returns to the sex and she kisses him, thrusts her tongue into his mouth. His hands slide down to her hips, both of their movements becoming more urgent.

She sighs and bites her lip and then shifts a little so that his thrusts are hitting her just right. She throws her head back when she orgasms, and screams, digging her nails into his shoulders.

He never lasts long after she comes. The look on her face always pushes him over the edge, but he is quieter about it than she is, his hands tightening on her, groaning just a little. Their movements slow, and then stop. Yuuko rolls off of him, after a moment, careful not to fall off the couch, but she turns back around and splays herself across him lazily, her breasts against his chest, their legs tangled, her right arm around his shoulder.

He draws a star on her cheek in bright gold, and then traces the color down the curve of her neck. They are silent for a while as their breathing slows to normal.

"I love you," he says. He has said it before, and he'll say it again, even though he knows the way she'll answer. Clow sees the future, after all. He knows, whether he wants to or not, and he knows that actions speak louder than words, not just sex but the things that she will do for the sake of their not-yet-made plan after he is gone.

But her answer is just a sigh, not a quip or complaint or demand for alcohol in the afterglow. She tucks her head into his shoulder and shuts her eyes. And since this is unusual, he asks.

"Yuuko?"

"Me too. Let me sleep," she mumbles.

He pets her hair and lets her fall asleep, even though her sprawl isn't exactly comfortable and his arm is asleep by the time her breathing is even and slow. He tucks a lock behind her ear and wonders how much she has seen, then, or been told by another fortuneteller, about what is up ahead for them. Even he isn't sure of the details yet. There are some years to go.

He looks up at her ceiling, his eyes unfocused without his glasses. He waves his free hand, cleaning the magic and the mess from them, and he holds her for another hour before he gets up and puts her to bed.

In the morning, she wakes to the smell of pancakes and a bottle of eki-kyabe on the bedstand. She downs the medication and throws on a robe before wandering into the kitchen in search of the smell.

And there is Clow at her stove, turning to see her as she comes in, and he's got a garish green paint mustache. She laughs as he grins.

"Couldn't get that one to come off," he says, an unabashed lie if she's ever heard one. So she smacks him in the back of the head and then settles down at the table with an air of anticipation.

"Good morning, darling," he says cheerfully, flipping pancakes onto a plate, and she curls her toes under the table and smiles, resting her head in her hands.

And the little things like this, they're magic too.

Dean in Wonderland (Dean/Triana)

2009-11-10T15:22:24Z

Title: Dean in Wonderland
Fandom: Venture Brothers
Length: 445 words
Prompt: fic-or-treat: Math & Candy (Venture Bros., preferably starring a constumed Dean and Hank and Triana) for oystermato
Pairing: Dean/Triana
Other: Set S3; therefore spoilers for S3.

Excerpt: "Why do I always have to be the one in the dress?" Dean whined.

"Why do I always have to be the one in the dress?" Dean whined.

"Because you have the figure for it, and I wanted to be the Mad Hatter," his father snapped back. "Now fix your wig, your real hair is showing."

Sulkily, Dean tucked it back under his headband and stared down at the blue dress. What if Triana saw him in this-- what would she say? He was Alice. She'd laugh at him forever.

"Are you ready yet?" Dr. Venture snapped toward the bathroom door, tapping his watch impatiently. "We're going to be late."

"I was adjusting my ears!" Sargeant Hatred answered in his whiny voice, emerging from the bathroom with his bunny ears still crooked.

"Oh, for God's sake," Venture muttered, reaching up to set him straight. "I should have been the White Rabbit."

"I'm late, I'm late!" Hatred said with an awful falsetto.

"On second thought, pity points!" the doctor continued, cheering up. "Come on Han-- Why am I not surprised?"

Batman was attired this year in a jean jacket over his costume. Hank scowled and played with one of his ear points.

"Let's just go," Venture said after a momentary stare-down that accomplished nothing.

They stepped out of the building and Dean was momentarily gratified not to see Triana anywhere, but there she was, standing by the statue and looking bored. She had a bowl of candy in her hands, but it seemed pretty untouched. Her t-shirt said, THIS IS MY COSTUME. Dean blushed down to his knees.

"Told you we didn't need makeup," Doc said, slapping his son on the back. "You've got the face of a little girl, Dean my boy."

Dean wondered if it were possible to sink into the ground. Only in comic books, probably.

"Nice costume," Triana said with a small smirk, and Dean opened his mouth to explain, but Hank was having one of his Batman moments and Hatred had darted after him, puffing with the effort, and then Dr. Venture started yelling and it all went to hell. By the time everything was sorted, she'd turned and gone back inside to avoid the chaos. Dean stared despairingly after her.

"What if I pay you to behave?" Venture wheedled at Hank.

"I don't want to dress up either!" Dean yelled. His father shot him a look and then rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"I'll pay you too. Come on, let's just go."

He dragged his reluctant sons toward the plane. Dean sat in the back next to Hank and sulked. The Batman brooded in his blue jean jacket.

Dean hoped there would be some candy left when he got home.

Pride (Yuuko/Haruka/Clow)

2009-11-10T15:20:01Z

Title: Pride
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 1674 words
Prompt: springkink 8 Nov 09 - xxxholic, Yuuko/Haruka/Clow: oral sex in the dream world from which all worlds can be reached - Wine in the bottle does not quench thirst
Pairing: Yuuko/Haruka/Clow; mostly Clow/Yuuko
Other: R for sex; unbalanced threesome. Set pre-series, some attempts to be canon-compliant.

Excerpt: "The dream world connects to all worlds," he replied, stroking her hair to one side and pressing gentle kisses into her shoulder, "but you know that your world is particularly difficult to dream into. You do not have pleasant dreams, my love."

When the priest appeared in her dream, it was no surprise. Yuuko had began seeing him more frequently as the time of her own death approached. But his companion tonight shocked her.

"You brought him too?" she said, pointing at Clow.

Haruka just smiled gently. "He brought himself," the priest answered. His tones were serene and though Yuuko generally liked his calm attitude, she found herself dissolving in irritation.

It was strange how two men who seemed similar in temperament could provoke her to such different reactions. Haruka's silences led to her own. Sometimes they sat in her dreams and she leaned her head against his shoulder and said nothing at all.

But Clow, Clow, even when he was quiet, even when he was smiling, he gave her such fits of temper and sometimes passion. Her bosom heaved as she looked at him with one of her most annoyed glares.

Clow wasn't paying attention to her tone or her expression. He was staring at her with that awful look he had, full of longing and lust and love. She thought she'd broken him of that, at least in her presence, but there it was, back again.

He reached out reverently and brushed her cheek. She froze for a second and then turned her back to him, knowing he was still staring at her body outlined in the thin dress she was wearing.

"Nice of you to visit," she said, her tone sharp.

He never asked before he touched her and even dead he hadn't changed that habit. His arms were around her shoulders, and somehow, they were warm, and somehow still they were familiar even after all these years apart. She bit her lip and her spine stiffened.

"The dream world connects to all worlds," he replied, stroking her hair to one side and pressing gentle kisses into her shoulder, "but you know that your world is particularly difficult to dream into. You do not have pleasant dreams, my love."

There was no use disagreeing. She used to see the future in her dreams, but now she only saw the present, Syaoran and Sakura and the others struggling, Soel crying.

"And," Haruka spoke, his voice steady as he reached for her hand, and kissed it, "you had to let him come."

Yuuko had before been thrown by her pride. It was the only vice she would not freely admit to. She would not let him come because she would not admit she missed him.

Was this her admittance? Had she drank too much red wine and wished to dream of him?

She'd pay the penalty for that. Everyone paid for their wishes.

Clow reached down the low back of her dress and unfastened her bra. His hands crept around stealthily to cover her breasts, and he squeezed, just a little roughly, just like he used to do when he was alive.

And Haruka, every inch the gentleman Clow pretended to be (another burst of annoyance swiftly covered by need) leaned down to run his fingers down her ankles and lift her foot, pressing her back against Clow, and delicately she found herself in the magician's lap.

This was her shop (even if it was a dream), this was her porch, and these were the two men she'd loved when both of them were alive. But they hadn't been able to maintain the balance and the relationship had fallen over; she'd fallen onto the annoying one and he'd kept her and kissed her and prevented her from dying.

She'd never ever say it to the man whose teeth were gentle but persistent on her neck, but she didn't regret it, the whole mess, even the sacrifices made by all of them. It was selfish of her, which was another reason she didn't mention it. She leaned back into Clow's arms as he unzipped her dress.

Haruka's hands were gentle but persistent on her thighs as he removed her stockings and her garters. He kissed the underside of her knee, making her exhale suddenly.

It had been a while since she'd been with him. He'd left her and Clow to themselves, saying nothing like he always did, and married and had a son. She passed the temple some days, lifting a hand, smiling, and he always smiled back. She watched his son grow and marry, unsurprised, somehow by the old face Haruka's grandson wore, so much like his grandfather but more serious. And she'd gone to his funeral and waved goodbye.

When he'd stepped into her dreams for the first time, after he'd taken Watanuki under his wing, their relationship had been nearly platonic. Perhaps it was this he was thinking of when he met Clow's eyes above her head. Clow reached out to touch Haruka's cheek. He leaned forward, and then the two men kissed once, gently, above her head. Clow's fingers slipped down her stomach, further, and it had been decades, but he still had the knack. His movements were slow and unhurried, persistent across her most sensitive skin, and he and Haruka shared another long kiss before some sort of conclusion seemed to be made between them.

"Let me taste you," Clow breathed in her ear. Haruka's hands cascaded across her breasts as though he were sculpting her. She pretended to consider while Clow's fingers worked in her. She never gave anything to him easily, even the things she herself wanted.

"If you must," she said finally, hissing with desire as his thumb brushed over her clit before he pulled his hand away.

"You're still warm," he said, when she turned around so that her hair was spilling across Haruka's chest instead. Clow's eyes twinkled with mischief and she opened her mouth to break the mood, to throw away this momentary thing (the diversion of a memory, of a way things used to be, to keep until the day she too could join them).

Haruka chuckled and said, "Did you expect anything different from her? She is very good at dreaming."

Perhaps it was from his grandfather that Shizuka had inherited his tendency to avoid using names. Given that names had power, Yuuko had always approved. Between Haruka, Clow, and Yuuko, moreover, his meaning was always clear, and his voice always held just a trace of affection in his pronouns.

His words were enough distraction that Yuuko did not protest when Clow exhaled warmly on her inner thigh and said, "Of course not. It was a compliment." He kissed her sweetly, high on each leg, before lowering his mouth to her.

He was warm too, confident, his tongue hot, and Yuuko squirmed, biting her lip against verbal acknowledgment of his skills. From behind, Haruka's hands played over her, mapping her collarbones, tracing across her breasts, his kisses on her neck soft but not without bite. He tasted like cigarettes and the sake they had drank the night before Clow went away (and they'd done this then, too, in silence, drunkenly, though she'd come back to herself with her hand down Clow's pants and Haruka pressed against her back, and swore she'd never give him the satisfaction, because he was leaving).

That memory provoked a moan, shuddering from her lips. Yuuko did her best to live with no regrets, and she did not regret then (or now), but sometimes she wondered how different their lives (and deaths) could have been. But there was hitsuzen, and it was all. There was nothing to regret, because things happened as they needed to happen.

She slid into those moments when desire was all, when the body ruled, when they were not three, but one, and she kilted her hips forward, breathing heavily. She reached back to clutch at Haruka, the best that she could, given a certain inability to focus and the angle, but just her touch provoked a sigh of satisfaction.

Clow was patient and persistent. He pulled back a little to suck on her clit, and then slipped two fingers into her. He curled them up, seeking her G-spot, provoking another guttural sigh from her when he found it. They both had big hands, a long reach, and she appreciated that. They were the only men who could ever make her feel small (physically, that is, she would not let anyone make her feel small otherwise).

"There," she managed in encouragement, and he acknowledged that with, "Mm," just a buzz of his lips on her, and with Haruka breathing hard in her ear, she slipped over the edge into orgasm, letting it roll through her in waves of pleasure. Clow didn't pull back until her spasms ceased. His own breath ragged, he stared at her with something resembling awe on his face.

He'd told her once, when the two of them were alone and drunk, that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, especially in her afterglow-- her skin glistening with sweat, her lips half-parted. She was a goddess, he'd said, his voice too loud in his inebriation.

She'd told him, tartly, that he was only a mess, and he'd just smiled. He was (both smiling and a mess) now, hair falling loose from his ponytail, his lips slick with her.

His eyes were dark and his clothing was hopelessly rumpled, but what she hadn't told him then, even drunk, was that she liked him that way, when he seemed the most like a normal man and the least like the cocky magician she knew him to be. She didn't say it now, either. This was her dream and her desires, but there were secrets kept between them, all the same.

When she could focus again, she leaned forward to kiss him, almost possessively, wrapping her arms around his neck and then burying her head in his shoulder, pushing away a wish. Then she turned to kiss Haruka too, and run her hands through his short hair.

Together, the three of them dreamed.

Or Treat (Syaoran/Sakura)

2009-11-10T15:13:14Z

Title: Or Treat
Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura
Length: 601 words
Prompt: fic-or-treat: Yamazaki telling the story of the first Halloween for beansidhe_baby.
Pairing: Syaoran/Sakura
Other: Set mid-canon. Sort of wanders away from the prompt for Syaoran/Sakura fluff.

Excerpt: Syaoran Li was not quite sure why he'd agreed to go to this party. His bandages itched and Hiiragizawa kept grinning at him oddly.

Syaoran Li was not quite sure why he'd agreed to go to this party. His bandages itched and Hiiragizawa kept grinning at him oddly. Well, if he were honest with himself, the resason he'd came was because Sakura had asked him, her smile vibrant, and he'd found himself quite incapable of saying no.

And then, of course, he had to find a costume, because this was a Halloween party, and Daidouji had vetoed his idea of showing up in his traditional Chinese uniform. So he'd gone out and bought some bandages and some red makeup, and found a shirt he didn't wear much anymore: instant zombie.

But an itchy one. Ad there was Hiiragizawa's snicker and Daidouji's admonishment that he should have worn something Sakura could match (did she ever stop thinking about clothes, or driving him insane?).

Someone had gotten the bright idea to tell ghost stories, and he could feel Sakura trembling in the seat beside him. She'd faced dangerous Clow Cards without flinching, but the thought of something paranormal invariably made her shriek. Trying not to make it obvious, he leaned a little closer to her. She shot him a grateful look.

"I'm going to tell the story of the first Halloween," Yamazaki began cheerfully, pushing his halo back up so it would sit straight. "A long, long time ago..."

Syaoran would admit that he didn't know the story, though from the way Chiharu was glaring, perhaps the story wasn't true at all. She looked as though she wanted to bash him with her witch's wand.

"And that's when--" Yamazaki said, his voice dropping low, "it attacked!"

And that was in fact when the lights flickered off (later, after he'd found out Hiiragizawa's true identity, Syaoran wondered if he had anything to do with this). Sakura screamed, though so did a couple of the other girls. When the lights came back up, however, Syaoran was the only one with a lap full of frightened girl. He blushed furiously and said, "Um--"

Sakura opened her eyes, looked around, and loosened her deathgrip on his shirt. "Eheh," she laughed nervously, slipping back into her own seat. Then she frowned up at Syaoran with concern. "Oh, your bandages are all messed up, I'm sorry."

She adjusted them with nimble fingers while Syaoran contemplated the possibility of fainting due to all the blood rushing to his head. How would he explain that?

Luckily, he didn't have to. The party broke up soon after that. The flickering lights were due to an approaching storm, and everyone wanted to get home before it broke.

"Nice costume," Hiiragizawa said, smarmily in Syaoran's opinion, as he gave his goodbyes. Eriol's cat tail swished in a self-satisfied manner.

"Thanks," Syaoran muttered.

"Sorry," Sakura whispered again, pausing at the door to fiddle with the hem of her shirt. What real desert princess would bare her navel, Syaoran wanted to know, but Daidouji would be Daidouji (or today she would be some sort of Victorian belle, but still a costumemaker).

"It's okay," Syaoran said, looking away, unable to meet her eyes. It was then, with tension sharp as a knife between them, that someone brushed his shoulder and he jumped forward, nearly knocking Sakura over.

"Why are you so nervous?" Daidouji asked, giggling, and Syaoran only paused to make sure Sakura was okay before he escaped into the cooling night.

"Do you really think that Yamazaki-kun was right about Halloween?" Sakura asked Tomoyo, watching Syaoran flee.

"There are all kinds of tricks and treats," Tomoyo said with a knowng smile, and she explained no more than that.

Flowering (Tarzan/Jane)

2009-11-10T15:08:56Z

Title: Flowering
Fandom: Disney's Tarzan
Length: 401 words
Prompt: fic-or-treat: Tarzan, Tarzan/Jane, love blooming for brokengem
Pairing: Tarzan/Jane established (post-movie)
Other: n/a

Excerpt: That was never as easy as Jane would like, but eventually she found him down by a favored watering hole with Turk and Tantor. When she explained what she wanted, he looked thoughtful for a moment, but then grabbed her hand and vaulted off into a trees with her.

Jane knew apes, but she felt a woeful ignorance when it came to plants.

"They're beautiful," she said to her father, "but I dare not pick anything, because it could be poison."

"Can't help you there, Jane my dear," he answered, not looking up from his careful sketching. She didn't think to ask who he was sketching for. Even if they lived in Africa for the rest of their lives, her father was still a researcher, through and through. He'd learn even without a scientific society to send notes back to.

"Why don't you ask your young man?" he said, tone somewhat muffled as he bit his tone in concetration.

"That's a wonderful idea, Father," she said, kissing him on the top of his bald head, and she went to find Tarzan.

*

That was never as easy as Jane would like, but eventually she found him down by a favored watering hole with Turk and Tantor. When she explained what she wanted, he looked thoughtful for a moment, but then grabbed her hand and vaulted off into a trees with her.

"You know," Turk called after him, "you could have at least finished the game!"

Jane giggled when Tarzan translated for her. "What were you playing?" she askd.

"Poker," Tarzan answered cheerfully.

"But you don't have any cards..."

"We were using rocks," he answered, but before she could inquire further (who had even taught him poker?), he set her down carefully in the midst of the jungle's bounty.

Tarzan was a patient man, and a good teacher. He pulled back leaves, uprooted vines, and talked constantly, rattling off the gorilla names for various plants and their properties. Jane did her best to take it all in.

"Take someone with you at first when you look," he cautioned. "They won't let you make mistakes."

She leaned back against him, her mind spinning with names, leaves, and roots. Sometimes she just couldn't believe she'd stayed. Every day was something new, a new transition. The world of academia was miles away from this world. But it was worth it.

"I'll make some sort of salad," she said to Tarzan, and then of course had to explain salad. It wasn't a bad meal, either, once he'd picked out one dangerously mistaken plant.

She saved another one, a decorative one, and it bloomed all summer, pink and vibrant. The next year, she kept a garden.

Twins (Maru and Moro gen)

2009-11-10T15:06:33Z

Title: Twins
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 357 words
Prompt: Fic-or-treat: Maru and Moro get separated somehow for claire_chan
Pairing: Yuuko, Watanuki, Maru & Moro gen
Other: More of an AU sort of thing than the prompt. Spoilers for ch182-ish.

Excerpt: Yuuko had cuddled her, called her "my little Marudashi," and it had been just the two of them for a while. Maru slept curled up across Yuuko's feet, and she dreamed of the shop and kept it strong.

Maru had been alone once. Yuuko had cuddled her, called her "my little Marudashi," and it had been just the two of them for a while. Maru slept curled up across Yuuko's feet, and she dreamed of the shop and kept it strong.

She was the shop, she loved the shop. She knew every rafter and every blade of grass in the little pocket dimension where they lived. And she was happy, a child's simple happiness, there with the mistress and the sleeping Mokona (mustn't ever touch, the mistress said).

She waited at the door when Yuuko went out, shouting cheerfully when Yuuko returned. Yuuko patted her head and asked if she'd missed anything when she was out in the world, but she never did. The customers always came when they were supposed to.

Maru didn't realize she was lonely when Yuuko was gone, not until Moro was born. She watched with fascination as Yuuko spoke the spells and her sister slipped into being.

"Morodashi," Yuuko said, sounding tired but satisfied. Moro blinked. Maru reached out and took Moro's hand. Moro squeezed back.

"And now you have each other," Yuuko said.

It wasn't a conversation that either girl remembered. Time passed and it seemed like the two of them had been together forever. "My Marudashi and Morodashi," Yuuko said, introducing them with a giggle.

Watanuki was special, a client who stayed. He taught them things and helped the mistress when he could. He wanted to take them to the festival. No one had asked them to go anywhere before. And so they loved him. They kept the shop for him and for Yuuko, hand in hand, even when they didn't have hands to hold.

They always had each other, even when Yuuko went away, and that had hurt more than anything, more than the thought of the shop disappearing (and death), more than the time that Watanuki had nearly bled away his life in Yuuko's bed.

But time passed, or did not pass in the shop, and they had a new master, and Maru had Moro and Moro had Maru.

And so they kept the shop, together.

Anniversaries (Tomoyo/Meiling)

2009-11-10T15:01:52Z

Title: Anniversaries
Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura
Length: 419 words
Prompt: fic or treat: Cardcaptor Sakura, Tomoyo/Meiling, five o'clock with plans for the weekend for dreximgirl
Pairing: Tomoyo/Meiling established
Other: n/a

Excerpt: Five o'clock on a Friday night... it certainly wouldn't be the first time Tomoyo had canceled plans because of a project or other work delay.

Meiling was trying to choose her earrings when the phone rang. It was Tomoyo's specific ringtone, which normally would prompt a smile, but not tonight. Five o'clock on a Friday night... it certainly wouldn't be the first time Tomoyo had canceled plans because of a project or other work delay. She worked as hard as her mother had when she'd been CEO of Daidouji Toys.

Tonight was supposed to be special, furthermore. It was their second anniversary. Something about that was more important than the first had been. The first had been a celebration, still, of newness, of the queen bed and two toothbrushes in the cabinet. The second anniversary, Meiling thought, was a turning point. The new bed was broken in; the toothbrushes had been used and replaced. They were together. They were committed.

"Hello?" Meiling said into the phone, setting down her jewelry and feeling her heart sink as soon as soon as she heard Tomoyo's voice.

"Meiling-chan... I'm so sorry."

Meiling sighed. "I know," she said gently.

"Umehito's plane was delayed, so we had to push back our schedule..."

Meiling wasn't resentful. If she had been, this relationship wouldn't have lasted the first year. Tomoyo's unwavering dedication-- to both her company and her frinds-- was something Meiling admired about her girlfriend.

"I have to get through these reports for tomorrow's meeting. I should be home around seven."

Though Meiling was used to the interruptions of their life, she wasn't happy about them. Tomoyo sometimes overexerted herself. She'd been late every day this week.

"Did you send Sayaka-san home?" Meiling asked. Tomoyo's equally-dedicated and overworked assistant had recently had a baby, and Tomoyo was making her keep a more reasonable schedule.

"She left at three," Tomoyo answered in a satisified tone of voice. "Her mother is coming to see the baby this weekend."

"Then I'll see you in a little while," Meiling said, hanging up before Tomoyo could protest. With Sayaka gone, it was a certainty that Tomoyo wouldn't have eaten since lunch, if she'd even paused for that. Meiling would pick up a pizza and spend the evening with her girlfriend in her ofice. It wasn't a party really, or a date-- she'd be quiet so Tomoyo could read, but the important thing was, she would be there.

She picked up her earrings and held them up to her lobes, peering into the mirror and letting a smile spread across her face.

Two years gone, and she could hardly wait for the third.

Slow Boil (Watanuki gen)

2009-10-30T14:26:28Z

Title: Slow Boil
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 411 words
Prompt: 31_days: 30 Oct 09 // I weep for my mother as I watch the sea
Pairing: Watanuki and Doumeki gen; mentions of Yuuko
Other: spoilers for ch182.

Excerpt: It was mid-July before Watanuki pulled the kiddy pool out of storage, partly because he knew he'd have to go to the trouble of blowing it up himself.

It was mid-July before Watanuki pulled the kiddy pool out of storage, partly because he knew he'd have to go to the trouble of blowing it up himself. When he could breathe again, and he'd drawn the water, he slipped into it with a satisfied sigh, trying to resist the thought that he probably looked ridiculous. She'd done it, so he could do it.

"What are you doing?"

Doumeki's deadpan tone startled him. The girls hadn't told Watanuki that the archer had arrived, probably because they were putting on their bathing suits. Watanuki scowled and tried not to feel so... exposed. The floral umbrella didn't help matters much. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Trying to stay cool."

Doumeki stared for another long moment. "You look ridiculous."

"I'm fine!" he snapped back. "If Yuuko-san could--"

Doumeki nodded once, curtly, cutting him off. Watanuki paused. Something about this argument seemed familiar.

He knew very well that he wasn't Yuuko, and that he honestly had less style in his whole body than she'd had in one finger. Most people couldn't pull off her ridiculous antics and somehow maintain her fearsome reputation as well. He knew he wasn't as good-- he couldn't even leave the shop. But he was trying his best.

Water splashed Watanuki's cheek. He blinked in surprise as more splattered coldly down on him. Doumeki was leaning on the shower handpump. He pumped a couple more times, his expression unchanging.

"No," he said after another minute's consideration, "still ridiculous."

"I probably look like a drowned rat now!" Watanuki growled, rising fussily and shedding water. The girls ran out of the shop and twined themselves around his legs.

"You can have it to yourselves," he said kindly, and they shouted gleefully and splashed around as he climbed out.

"You don't," Doumeki began, and then stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing," he answered, stepping uncomfortably close to Watanuki, making him feel short and pale and irritable. Doumeki brushed a drop of water from his cheek, and Watanuki leapt backwards like he'd been bitten. This meant, of course, that he tripped over the pool and upended it over himself. He sputtered angrily while Maru and Moro tittered with laughter.

"Himawari is coming later," Doumeki said, unconcerned. "Get dressed."

Watanuki muttered under his breath, flinging the pool off of his head.

"I don't what?" he asked, eyes piercing.

"Have to be her," Doumeki answered.

Watanuki got up and went into the shop without another word.

Upon a Time (Yuuko and Watanuki gen)

2009-10-30T14:24:59Z

Title: Upon a Time
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 453 words
Prompt: 31_days: 29 Oct 09 // a crow buries its secret
Pairing: Yuuko and Watanuki gen
Other: n/a

Excerpt: "Once upon a time," Yuuko said, exhaling smoke that slid lazily across the air, half-forming patterns that broke as soon as Watanuki looked at them. "Once upon a time, there was a crow."

"Once upon a time," Yuuko said, exhaling smoke that slid lazily across the air, half-forming patterns that broke as soon as Watanuki looked at them. "Once upon a time, there was a crow."

"You're telling fairytales now?" Watanuki asked, sweeping busily. But with Yuuko, the fairytales were often true, and it really was a silly thing to question.

"There are a lot of magnificent stories that begin "once upon a time," Watanuki-kun," she admonished. "Everything that happens, happened once upon a time, even if that time was long ago in another universe."

"Are you saying that all of those old stories are true?" he replied, voice incredulous, and Yuuko rubbed the bridge of her nose. Some days, she seemed to be thinking, some days you betray your willful ignorance, Watanuki. Watanuki scowled. He hated that look.

"Truth is never as simple as you think," she answered. "Now. Once upon a time, there was a crow who found a beautiful strip of shiny paper. He loved it at once, taking it home to his nest and putting it in a place of honor."

"I fail to see," Watanuki interrupted, "what this has to do with me not making your dinner tonight."

"It would help if you'd let me finish," his employer answered. "Sssh, before I die of hunger." She sighed dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah," Watanuki answered sourly. He never asked for time off and he was feeling rather put-upon that this was the answer to his question.

"After a while, the crow had to leave the nest to find food. I won't give you the details of that," she drawled on. "But he didn't want to leave his treasure alone, so he found a good place to bury it."

"Do crows dig?" Watanuki objected.

Yuuko rolled her eyes and continued. "So the crow buried his treasure and went to find food. But when he came back, a squirrel had been busy at work burying nuts. No matter how much the crow digged, he couldn't find his shiny thing. And now he regretted burying it in the first place."

She leaned back with an air of triumph. Watanuki blinked.

"I still don't see--" he ventured.

"Don't hide your good things, Watanuki-kun!" she declared. "Use them, or lose them."

"I don't think that me not feeding you once is going to lead to my loss of cooking skills." He paused, and because this was Yuuko, he then continued, "Is it?"

She buried her face in her arms. "Once upon a time," she warned.

"If I make something now, you can warm it for dinner," he said with a long-suffering sigh. She perked up, her grin devilish.

"Caw caw," Watanuki muttered.

Woven (Kohane gen)

2009-10-30T14:23:17Z

Title: Woven
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 302 words
Prompt: 31_days: 28 Oct 09 // you have outgrown your first kimono
Pairing: Kohane gen; Yuuko and Watanuki
Other: Spoilers for ch184.

Excerpt: Yuuko wasn't like most people. She knew Kohane wasn't lying, but more importantly, she let her be a person, and make her own decisions.

Kohane knew, on some level, that Yuuko couldn't give presents, but when the witch disappeared before Kohane could return her kimono, she kept it. She hadn't known Yuuko as well as Kimihiro had, of course, but the wishgranter had been very kind to her. The kimono was only part of that. Yuuko had given her the opportunity to grant her own wish, and that was worth any amount of power in return.

Yuuko wasn't like most people. She knew Kohane wasn't lying, but more importantly, she let her be a person, and make her own decisions. She did it for Kimihiro too, using his wish to give him the opportunity for change. Yuuko was very wise, Kohane thought, and she would remember her fondly. She would keep her kimono, folded and safe. Yuuko didn't give gifts, so perhaps she could return it, if Yuuko came back like Kimihiro seemed to think she would.

Kohane wasn't so sure that Kimihiro would be a good shopkeeper. He cared too much, for Kohane and Yuuko and anyone who was hurting, and though Yuuko cared, she knew her business, and could make the difficult decisions. So Kohane worried. She didn't want Kimihiro to hurt.

She packed Yuuko's kimono into storage when the season changed, and Obaa-chan said nothing about it. She told Kimihiro's future, though, when Kohane asked (in exchange for a meal), and sent Kohane with the information that Kimihiro needed to know.

The world was re-forming around a new center, Kimihiro instead of Yuuko, and Kohane hoped her friend was strong enough. But he was granting his own wish, in waiting for Yuuko, so she knew he would be okay. Yuuko had guided him well, after all.

So when she visited, Kohane tried to smile.

Spent (Clow/Yuuko)

2009-10-30T14:21:26Z

Title: Spent
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 371 words
Prompt: 31_days: 27 Oct 09 // I've squandered all these years
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: spoilers for ch182 as always.

Excerpt: So she treasured her vices and would not apologize for indulging them-- what was the use of time if you didn't make the most of it?

Time was never a particular concern of Yuuko, as aging was optional to someone as powerful as she. She knew she would die someday, because all things that lived did, but the thought didn't concern her. Better, she thought, to focus on the present, to act then (towards the future, yes, but that was never set in stone). So she treasured her vices and would not apologize for indulging them-- what was the use of time if you didn't make the most of it?

Though most of the magical community was as long-lived, there weren't many who approved of the Dimension Witch and her methods. Feared her, yes, sometimes. They said that she could read the future in the twining trails of smoke from her pipe, could hide the secrets of the worlds in her stoned ruby eyes, could drink her weight in alcohol (which wasn't technically magical, but pretty amazing all the same).

Clow's philosophy wasn't quite the same. He seemed to treasure each moment as if he expected no next breath. That didn't mean he couldn't be convinced to have fun; really, he had the most fun of anyone, or that was the impression he left.

But when he met her, he said, "I've squandered all these years without you," and she whacked him with her fan and said, "I wasn't made to entertain you." Nonetheless, she did, and he entertained her, and after a century or so they'd quite forgotten what it was like to spend all their time alone (in Yuuko's case) or in the company of created beings (in his).

"I've wasted all these years with you," she said, the day he left. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, answering, "It's impossible to waste time."

"At least I managed to teach you something," she mumbled, shutting her eyes to better remember his lips soft against her skin.

"Yuuko-san?" Watanuki asked uncertainly, and she opened her eyes again, shaking ash out of her pipe and reaching for her cup.

"Nothing, Watanuki-kun, nothing," she answered, following with a plaintive request for snacks, and the memory passed, and so did the years.

And until her time ended for good, she lived. There was no wasted time.

Coming Home (Clef/Presea)

2009-10-30T14:16:33Z

Title: Coming Home
Fandom: Magic Knight Rayearth
Length: 556 words
Prompt: 31_days: 26 Oct 09 // shining in my soup bowl
Character/Pairing: Clef and Presea; slight Presea/Clef
Other: n/a

Excerpt: Presea knows there must have been a time before Clef lived in the palace, a time before he put on those heavy robes and took up the staff of office, but she finds it hard to picture.

Presea knows there must have been a time before Clef lived in the palace, a time before he put on those heavy robes and took up the staff of office, but she finds it hard to picture. He's mentioned it only once, in passing-- a cottage he kept near the edge of the Forest of Silence (he was always so fond of silence). She pictured it, at that time, a smile on her lips, as a little place, homey, relaxing, with a great big study like hers.

Now he has no separation between work and home. She stops in to see him sometimes when her work brings her to the palace, but his office juts right up to his quarters, which are small and spare in her opinion, and undecorated, no nicer than what she would imagine for the butler. But if that's what his rooms look like, it's what he's chosen for himself, but Emeraude would never deny him something better if he wanted it. He'd practically raised her, after all.

She doesn't know what to say about it so one day she brings him something. She can't draw, but she can do metalwork, so she sculpts something pretty but not girly, from a metal like steel, setting blue stones into it. It has sharp edges but is a long, slender shape overall, and it reminds her of Clef a little when she is done, or perhaps her idea of him: strong, weighted, intricate.

"I thought you could put it on your wall," she tells Clef, smiling, her face oddly warm. He looks bemused for a second, holding it, and then he smiles back, looking brighter than he had in a long time.

"Of course," he says, gesturing for her to follow as he leaves his office (of course she's found him there). She walks along behind him to his apartment. He climbs up onto the couch and holds up the decoration onto the wall, turning back for her opinion.

It looks wonderful there, just as she'd imagined. She pulls the hammer from her belt, and a couple of nails, and in short order they install it.

"Thank you," Clef says, stepping back to look at it, then smiling at her again. Presea puts her hammer away, somehow fumbling a little under his gaze.

"You're welcome," she says, and then hesitates before continuing, "it seemed really bare in here."

His smile drops a little. "I suppose I don't have a lot of time for decorating."

"It helps to have someplace relaxing to come home to," she answers softly.

"You're right," he says after a considering moment. "Thank you, Pharle. Presea."

He only calls her-- only calls anyone, really-- by their name on very rare occasions, and the word sinks to the bottom of her stomach and rests there warmly.

"You're welcome," she answers, bowing. They spend a few moments talking before Clef is called away yet again to another errand. She watches him go, smiling faintly.

The next time she returns to the palace, there is a little glass jar on the endtable next to his couch, with smooth blue stones in the bottom.

He sees her gaze, and says, "It matched," smiling just a little before returning to the business before them. But Presea grinned all the way back home.

Spring (Presea gen)

2009-10-30T14:14:58Z

Title: Spring
Fandom: Magic Knight Rayearth
Length: 727 words
Prompt: 31_days: 25 Oct 09 // Fields of new grasses
Pairing: Clef and Presea gen
Other: n/a

Excerpt: "Who woke me?" she demanded sleepily. "I'll string you up-- oh, it's you, Guru." Seeming a little embarrassed by her automatic reaction, she sat up quickly. "What do you need?"

He found her lying under a tree, dozing in the shade, and though he'd come to talk business, Clef found himself unwilling to interrupt. Finally, he coughed politely. Presea's eyes flew open.

"Who woke me?" she demanded sleepily. "I'll string you up-- oh, it's you, Guru." Seeming a little embarrassed by her automatic reaction, she sat up quickly. "What do you need?"

Instead of answering right away, the mage stepped through the spring grass, robes whispering as they brushed the blades, and he placed a hand on the tree she was leaning against. He smiled a little.

"Spring," he said. "Everything is happy to be growing."

"You can talk to trees?" Presea asked, wide-eyed, though in retrospect, it wasn't particularly surprising. He talked to animals all the time, after all. If there was something the Supreme Yil couldn't do, she hadn't seen it yet.

"This one is loud," he answered, still smiling a little, as if he had some private joke. Presea smiled back. She brushed her hand along the trunk as she rose to her feet and adjusted her apron. The forge was loud too, in its own way. It strained in the afternoon heat, wanting to be used, but it was too hot to work right now. That is, unless you were Clef, who worked all the time in a set of robes she suspected counted for half of his weight. He was a man whose heart and soul belonged to Cephiro. He probably saw it, she thought, as service, not as work.

"What can I help you with today, Guru?" she asked, as he turned away from the tree to look up at her. It must have been something important for him to come in person. She was seeing less and less of him these days. She wasn't sure what was going on in the palace, and it really wasn't her place to ask, but Clef was busy, and he looked tired.

He adjusted his circlet before answering, attempting but failing to push his bangs out of his eyes. "There is something I need you to keep for me, Pharle," he answered seriously. "The time we have feared has come to pass. When the Magic Knights arrive, there is something you must send with them besides weaponry."

Presea gasped, her hands flying up. The leather of her gloves on her face was familiar, but not comforting. A cold chill settled in her stomach, but Clef just looked at her steadily. He looked determined, not broken, and that fact helped calm her.

"Yes, of course," she answered. He nodded and gestured for her to follow him back up toward her house. He waited for her to get the door (though he could have opened it himself, he was polite), and over tea he explained to her what little he knew and could tell.

"So we must help them," he said, sighing. He paced back and forth in her living room, finally pausing and taking one of her hands in his. "Thank you," he said. The moment was interrupted by the appearance of a white creature in the room.

"Puu!" he said cheerfully. Clef dropped her hands to gesture at the beast.

"Mokona," he explained, his tone a little bemused. Presea had to admit her own confusion-- this animal, the one that was now bouncing across her living furniture-- was supposed to help the legendary Knights?

"Don't get into my study," she warned Mokona sternly, and then smiled back at Clef. "It's not a problem, Guru."

She walked with him to the edge of the forest, leaving Mokona to investigate (though hopefully not destroy) her house. The wind was rising, clearing away the early afternoon heat, and it played through her hair. They'd had an unusually warm spring, she thought, as she bid Clef goodbye, though in the circumstances, that wasn't surprising.

It wasn't until she'd gone back to work, her hands automatically shaping the metal, adjusting a seam, that she thought to wonder why Clef hadn't kept Mokona himself to give to the Knights. After all, he'd meet them, wouldn't he?

The thought made her bite her lip; she finished the repair and began to clear up.

She hoped all of them would see another spring.

Truly (Yuuko gen)

2009-10-30T14:12:54Z

Title: Truly
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 239 words
Prompt: 31_days: 24 Oct 09 // Ask tearfully, truly
Pairing: Yuuko gen
Other: n/a

Excerpt: But when someone asked Yuuko for the truth of their futures, they didn't often like the answers she gave. Few people valued a good fortuneteller because of this.

Fortunetelling was a contract between teller and told. Though Yuuko was pretty good at reading the threads of hitsuzen, at seeing the choices to be made and paths to walk, it was a rare future she told nowadays. It was a contract most people only thought they wanted to make.

It wasn't that seeing was a burden; she'd never been as entangled in pasts and futures as Clow ahd been. She could tell tomorrow from yesterday, even when drunk, and that was better than he'd lived, some days.

But when someone asked Yuuko for the truth of their futures, they didn't often like the answers she gave. Few people valued a good fortuneteller because of this. "Tell me the truth," they said, eyes shining, but the truth took its price. Nothing was free, after all. Clow confused his tenses, hid his heavy burden with a smile. One all paid for the good times with the bad, but it was easier to walk without the foreknowledge of both.

Yuuko could grant a wish of future change, but hitsuzen was hitsuzen. Watanuki was always with Doumeki, whether by his own will or not. She was limited to opening closed circles, increasing potential butterflies. And no one, not even Clow when he still lived, could read her future now.

She'd rather find out on her own, in any case. The uncertainty was a gift.

Pilgrimage (Syaoran gen)

2009-10-30T14:10:08Z

Title: Pilgrimage
Fandom: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle
Length: 373 words
Prompt: 31_days: 23 Oct 09 // As if tired from their pilgrimage
Pairing: Syaoran-tachi; Syaoran mostly; mention of Syaoran/Sakura
Other: spoilers for end of series.

Excerpt: Nevertheless, the solemn-faced, polite, young man who asked the questions never seemed to get the answers he was looking for, no matter what direction he was sent in the world, to mages or philosophers or scientists.

They were seasoned travelers; any innkeeper could tell you that. They wasted no time in negotiations, knew exactly what they wanted in a room, and disappeared into said rooms with an air of determined weariness, wearing their few possessions.

And the next morning, there were questions. Perhaps they thought that the little white creature would help ease the air (and in many inns, Mokona did charm the wives and children of the proprietors), because they always had it near. Nevertheless, the solemn-faced, polite, young man who asked the questions never seemed to get the answers he was looking for, no matter what direction he was sent in the world, to mages or philosophers or scientists.

Those who kept the places of rest all communicated, some across worlds, because world-traveling was certainly unusual, but not unheard of (and anyone who had met Seishirou or the twins thought it best to send on a warning). And just as those innkeepers said, "Like the Dimension Witch's children? Or like Clow's guardians?" to the oft-asked question, soon they began to expect the travelers. They were distinctive, after all-- the dark swordsman, the bright mage, the steady archaeologist (for this was the profession Syaoran claimed to follow), and the excitable pet. Even so, they never had the answers that the travelers were looking for.

So after a few days, sometimes a week or a month, the small group paid their bill and shook dust or sand or dampness from their shoes, and walked on. They showed no frustration, not anymore; just a stolid determination.

"Like a pilgrimage," a little girl said to them once, stroking Mokona and then teasing it with one of the large fronds that decorated the courtyard. Syaoran's eyes widened in consideration. Finally, he nodded.

"But what are you going to see at the end?" she asked.

"Myself," Syaoran answered after a long moment. "My family, and my wife."

"Then I wish you traveler's luck," she said, giggling sweetly before she was called away to help with the chores. Syaoran bowed to her receding form. They didn't travel with Sakura's luck anymore, but even in the darkest worlds, thought of her sustained him.

And so they journeyed, on and on.

Truly Free (Yuuko gen)

2009-10-30T14:08:29Z

Title: Truly Free
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 350 words
Prompt: 31_days: 22 Oct 09 // Vanish quickly, for you are finally free
Pairing: Yuuko and Watanuki gen
Other: spoilers for ch182.

Excerpt: There was more that she wanted to teach him, from the smallest trick to the secrets of traveling universes, even if he could only grasp the theory.

It wasn't that she didn't care for Watanuki, or that she wanted to leave him alone. There was more that she wanted to teach him, from the smallest trick to the secrets of traveling universes, even if he could only grasp the theory. He had no magic of his own, after all, being born apart, a placeholder that she struggled to make real, because every life was precious.

But time was limited, even in timeless places, and many of Yuuko's secrets died with her. She wasn't surprised at this-- it had taken her decades of learning and experience to discover them, and that would be the way that Watanuki had to learn them. Knowledge had a price, after all.

Everything had a price, and one of the prices she paid for her extension of life was this graceless death. She had no room for embarrassment, just a few moments to explain what she could before the darkness wrapped around and swallowed and set her free.

She wanted to die, to end. It was something Watanuki no longer understood. He didn't want to disappear anymore, and he could not stand to lose the one who'd saved him from this fate.

She watched him sob with dimming eyes, wondering if she was being freed or simply binding him in her place. But there was nothing to do for it now. Her time of interference was truly over.

She'd said it once to him, hadn't she? As he slept, adjusting to a new gaze. No one was ever truly alone. We belong to each other.

So maybe she wasn't truly free in death, but she hoped, for his sake and her own, that Watanuki would learn to let her go. Memory was something quite different from mourning, after all. She'd let him keep the memories; they helped define who he was, after all.

Memory, the shop, Maru and Moro and Larg, and the new promise that he wouldn't die alone. Everything had its price, after all, and he'd earned more than his wish from her.

Not A Date I Swear (Dean/Triana)

2009-10-30T14:01:32Z

Title: Not A Date I Swear
Fandom: Venture Brothers
Length: 1297 words
Prompt: 31_days: 21 Oct 09 // In the midst of this world/ we stroll along the roof of hell/ gawking at flowers; bright autumn, Dean/Triana for oystermato
Pairing: Dean/Triana; mostly gen
Other: AU in that this should be S4 Halloween due to events mentioned, but it has a S3 feel.

Excerpt: Triana sighed, setting down the book and turning off her music. "I remember, Dad. Don't you have a spirit to decant or something?"

There was an extremely polite knock at the front door around two o'clock, and Triana ignored it mostly because she hadn't heard it. Her father was doing something creepy in his study, and she'd found it necessary to put in headphones and blare showtunes in her ears to drown out the screams. After a minutes, she barely registered her father stride down the hall, and then he came back and knocked at her door.

"Pumpkin?" he said, peering around the doorframe at his daughter, who was curled up on her bed, trying to ignore the occult in her house with both the aforementioned headphones and a dull book she had to read for class. Dr. Orpheus had clearly been interrupted mid-ritual. His hair was slick, his collar was high, and there was something wispy and dangerous curling around his shiny shoes.

"That Dean Venture is here to see you," he said, his voice for a moment disapproving. "You remember what I told you about the Venture boys, don't you, dear?"

Triana sighed, setting down the book and turning off her music. "I remember, Dad. Don't you have a spirit to decant or something?"

The necromancer looked down at the mist around his ankles, which was getting thicker and also rising slowly in a somewhat ominous manner. "You're right!" he declared dramatically. "It is a matter of GRAVE IMPORTANCE!"

Triana rolled her eyes at the pun and went to see what Dean wanted.

*

Dean was wearing his speedsuit because he'd come to associate it with formalwear. He only wore it when his father forced him to, which was generally when they had some dinner or award show to go to. A few misguided attempts through the wash had further deformed its already unfortunate shape, making it looser in the behind and tighter in the chest. He was also wearing something like half a bottle of his father's cologne, because all of that cloning hadn't done anything toward improving his skills with the ladies.

It smelled like grape soda, actually, and Triana wrinkled her nose and stared at the boy.

"T-triana!" Dean stuttered, seeming surprised to see her. "Isn't it a lovely day?"

His voice wavered up an octave and back down. If she were truly honest with herself, Triana would admit it was cute, this ridiculous crush he had on her. Most of the boys at school didn't look twice at her. Of the ones who visited, they were all scared off by her father and his threats to sic zombies on them if they didn't get his "princess" home by ten p.m. It didn't help when he had both photographic evidence of said zombies, and baby pictures of her to show off.

"Yeah, I guess," she admitted. She hadn't been outside yet. She had been out partying late last night and hadn't bothered to get out of bed until around noon.

"I was wondering," he said, and gulped, "if you would want to take a walk with me? Maybe?"

"Why do you smell like grape soda?" she asked.

"I, um--" Dean paused. "Grape soda?"

There was another blood-curdling howl from the direction of the necromancer's study.

"I'll go get some shoes," she said, sighing, because the sun would probably be slightly less painful than doing homework and listening to shouting in stereo (as Dr. Orpheus himself picked up the chorus in alarm).

*

They ran into Hank when they cut through the hangar to tell Brock where they were going. Luckily, it was October, so he was wearing his Batman costume and uninterested in interruptions.

She wondered if he really did wear it every day. Dean mumbled something about having to "peel it off in November." Which was gross, and something she was glad not to think about when they ran into Brock, who was fiddling with something under his cool old car again.

"Why do you smell like grape soda, Dean?" the bodyguard asked, wheeling himself out from underneath and looking from Dean to Triana and back. Triana wasn't sure she liked his appraisal.

"Brock!" Dean whined. "I don't. I borrowed--" He glanced at Triana. "Never mind." He waggled his eyebrows, apparently trying to communicate something to the blond man. Triana looked away because it was that or laugh.

Brock shrugged. "Take Hank w--"

Triana imagined the eyebrow-wrangling that went into that communique, and giggled a little. Brock sighed.

"He's driving me crazy. Like usual. You haven't seen your father around, have you?"

"No. We're going to go now, Brock, okay? For a walk around the compound," Dean said quickly.

"You kids have fun," Brock answered, wheeling himself back under the car.

Triana opened her mouth to protest-- it wasn't like this was a date, no matter what Dean seemed to be also assuming-- but Dean grabbed her hand and dragged her away before Hank could toss another Batarang in their direction. They were just Frisbees with bat symbols inked on in Sharpie, but they were still getting annoying.

*

The problem with leaving the compound, however, was that then there was no distractions, and suddenly nothing to talk about. Dean had dropped her hand as soon as he realized he was holding it. Probably thought she had cooties, Triana thought pessimistically.

But when he managed to relax, finally, and when she managed to ignore the grape soda odor, she realized he was charming, in a dorky sort of way. He certainly wasn't her first choice boy... or really her second... or third or-- well, in any case, he wasn't last. And that counted for something.

He told her a story about last year's Halloween, and how Hank had somehow managed to almost get himself married to someone called Under-bite or something like that (which Triana thought was weird, because hadn't he dressed like Batman last year too?). And then there were other tales of weird place he'd visited with his family, and when all else failed, they looked at clouds, though Triana was always half worried to see something dangerous in them. Ominous clouds seemed to collect around her father. She was never quite sure if he brought them intentionally or if they came with the job. In any case, they weren't as awful as the portal in her closet, but they weren't really pleasant, either.

When he walked her back to her door, he leaned forward for a kiss and she shook his hand instead, a move that seemed to confuse him at first, but he then accepted enthusiastically, pumping her hand in both of his.

"I, um, I had a good time," he said, blushing.

"It wasn't so bad," Triana admitted, managing a small smile. "Thanks."

She ended up shutting the door in his face, because Dean didn't have the best reflexes, but she figured he wouldn't mind.

He probably minded when she shot back out, screaming at the thing her father had raised this time, but he'd forgive her. After all, he didn't like zombies either. Even when they were seasonally appropriate.

***************

"Doc, why are you drinking your cologne? Did you take too many diet pills?"

Brock grabbed the bottle from Dr. Venture's hands, but the shorter man scowled at him and took it back.

"No, Brock, I got tired of Hank stealing all of the soda out of the fridge. I figured if I put it in this bottle, he wouldn't bother with it."

Venture held up the bottle under his bodyguard's nose. Brock sniffled it and then chuckled a little.

"What?" Venture whined.

"Nothing," Brock answered. "Nothing weird at all."

"You're just jealous that I have grape soda and you don't!" Venture yelled at his bodyguard's retreating back. Brock just shook his head, and smiled a little.

Real Enough to Matter(Yuuko gen)

2009-10-20T15:59:22Z

Title: Real Enough to Matter
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 505 words
Prompt: 31_days: 20 Oct 09 // and within every dewdrop a world of struggle
Pairing: Yuuko and Watanuki gen
Other: n/a

Excerpt: She takes his watch but there are other things she could have taken, and she tells him this. His soul, the course of his future-- because his name is false, he is safe enough, but even that name was given in love, and so it means enough to matter.

She has had apprentices before Watanuki. Rarely does a year pass before a young person stumbles into her shop, empty but wanting. But rarely does a year pass again before they are dead of their own hubris. She doesn't give warnings for her own health (beyond redemption, there), but for theirs.

She takes his watch but there are other things she could have taken, and she tells him this. His soul, the course of his future-- because his name is false, he is safe enough, but even that name was given in love, and so it means enough to matter.

She does not tell him that yet. It is not time yet, when he is scarcely anchored to his tenuous existence. He would break apart and disappear in shards of glass, and she will not have that. He may be a boy born of choice and not of the fighting, blood, viscera known as birthright. But he is a child, and since he cannot be his mother's son, he will be Yuuko's employee. It is as close as she can get.

(She could not just mother him for free; everything between them must be paid for, or it will not exist when it is needed most, when she is gone.

Except-- except-- feelings, but hers she cloaks in whim and irritation. He does not have Clow's eyes and so she can just bear it. But bonding with him too close would be a mistake.

It is a mistake she makes. She is only human, after all.)

She and Clow tried to account for all of them, even the ones not naturally born, because they knew what it was like to have children who were not human. But Watanuki was the hardest. He is the child without sin, born of his other self's sin, and he has to cling to existence with every part of himself in order to make it to the end.

But even before he comes to the shop, Watanuki has been fighting for his life for a long time. He listens, even if he whines. Winter turns over to spring and then again to winter.

He lives.

Yuuko smiles and requests food out of season. She presses him into becoming someone greater than he is, and when he makes mistakes she scolds him and bandages his wounds (for a price, mind you, but she throws the scolding and advice in for free because she's a softy really).

And when he asks her finally, if he is real, she tells him yes, he is real. He has Doumeki's pure blood and Himawari's carefully offered heart and a thousand pearls of wisdom from herself. He has a soul that someone could take, had she not taught him to keep his name and birthday safe from strangers.

And he chooses to believe her. The world itself is very small, she thinks, and smiles. But that's all the world he needs.

Managing Accounts (Yuuko and Kakei gen)

2009-10-20T15:53:01Z

Title: Managing Accounts
Fandom: xxxHOLiC/Legal Drug
Length: 618 words
Prompt: 31_days: 19 Oct 09 // hide-and-seek among the tea flowers; comment_fic: xxxHolic/Legal Drug, Yuuko and Kakei (with implied Doumeki/Watanuki and Rikuo/Kazehaya), bonding and reminiscing over the shared love of making their errand boys do humiliating things
Pairing: Yuuko and Kakei; slight Doumeki/Watanuki and Rikuo/Kazahaya implied
Other: n/a

Excerpt: Yuuko watched her creation fondly, lifting her cup of tea to her lips for a moment, and then resting it on the table next to her. It was still half-full, but Kakei refilled it anyway, his smile never fading.

Mokona was playing hide-and-seek among the flowers with a scowling boy who could be convinced to smile, and a taller one who couldn't. Yuuko watched her creation fondly, lifting her cup of tea to her lips for a moment, and then resting it on the table next to her. It was still half-full, but Kakei refilled it anyway, his smile never fading. He was glancing at his employees once in a while, but his grin could be said to be more possessive than fond.

"Do you remember those headphones?" Yuuko said after a moment of peaceful silence (there was sound in the garden, Mokona giggling and Kazahaya's consternation and the half-argument he was conducting with Rikuo, but the shopkeepers were both ignoring it). "The ones with the cute little earpieces?"

"Oh yes," Kakei answered with a chuckle, taking a seat again and picking up his own cup. "I tried to borrow them from you, if I recall."

"You did," Yuuko replied, pointing at him lazily, "but I told you I needed them for something. My errand boy, actually. You should have seen the look on his face. Of course, there was no other way to communicate with him, what a shame, he simply had to wear them."

Kakei lifted his eyebrows, impressed. "And you sent him out with his archer like that?"

"I did," Yuuko answered, grinning. She watched Mokona dodge out of Kazahaya's grasp, and then as Kazahaya ran clumsily into Rikuo and complained at him for getting in the way.

"I'll forgive you then," Kakei answered cheerily.

"I thought you might," Yuuko said with a particularly evil grin. "It really was a shame that he lost them. I had to charge for them, then." Mokona slipped between Rikuo's legs; he reached down and picked it up, but it scrambled onto his head and then jumped back down into the flowers.

"Squirmy thing," Kakei remarked, and then, "I'm sending them to an all-boys' school next week to get something for me."

Yuuko nudged her companion. "Subtlety is not your watchword, Kakei."

"Not always," the man answered, sipping at his tea. "But when appropriate."

A shadow loomed over the pair. Saiga never changed, Yuuko always thought when she saw him. Always wearing sunglasses, always slightly rumpled. He rested his hand on Kakei's shoulder possessively (and Yuuko, instead of rolling her eyes, shifted subtly to show more thigh, because it wasn't that she was interested at all, but his possessiveness was annoying).

"Are you done playing?" Saiga asked, ignoring Yuuko. Kakei considered, and then sighed.

"I suppose so. Boys!" he called out, lifting his voice and getting up. Rikuo and Kazahaya looked up. Yuuko rose elegantly to her feet.

"Mokona!" she called out. Mokona bounced past the feet of its would-be captors and leapt into her arms. Kazahaya's mouth fell open in disbelief; Rikuo's frown deepened subtly.

"Why were we trying to catch that thing if it belonged to HER?" he said, pointing at Yuuko.

"Ssh, Kazahaya," Kakei said, waving, "or one might think you disliked women." He winked at Yuuko. Saiga set a hand on Kakei's shoulder.

"Wouldn't it have been polite to be able to return it to her when she arrived?" he continued.

"But it came right to her!" Kazahaya protested. "Did I really just spend an hour--"

"Mokona had fun!" Mokona remarked cheerfully, scrambling up onto Yuuko's shoulder.

"Nice to meet you boys," Yuuko said, petting Mokona absently. "It's very rare to see two children who are... so close."

Kazahaya frowned, but she swept around gracefully and offered her hand to Kakei. "See me out?"

"Of course," he answered, shooting his employees a look over his shoulder.

"I cannot believe--" Kazahaya began.

"Shut up," Rikuo muttered, thumping his coworker on the head, and it was to the dulcet sounds of another disagreement that Yuuko and Kakei parted ways again.

In Your Philosophy (Clow/Yuuko)

2009-10-20T15:38:10Z

Title: In Your Philosophy
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 953 words
Prompt: 31_days: 18 Oct 09 // I wrote on a wall, "I've gone ahead"; comment_fic: xxxHOLiC, Clow/Yuuko, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: PG for sexual references. My apologies to Shakespeare.

Excerpt: The wine was making her eloquent that night, and she remembered being quite pleased by her turns of phrase until he looked at her. His gaze was only a little sad, and she might not have noticed had she not known him as long as she had.

There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

He'd said it to her once, and she'd just laughed and laughed.

"How could there be more?" she asked, waving her glass. "I dream of everything. I've seen the warashi that walk the day and the spirits who walk the night, and all of those who glide through dawns and sunsets and the times between."

The wine was making her eloquent that night, and she remembered being quite pleased by her turns of phrase until he looked at her. His gaze was only a little sad, and she might not have noticed had she not known him as long as she had.

"No, my dear," he said, and his tone was cheerful, "not yet, you haven't."

He reached out and brushed her cheek and she pulled away, like she always did, but instead of letting her go, he leaned forward and left her a kiss there, gentle but damp, upon her cheekbone. They weren't drunk enough yet to be fumbling toward her bed, not drunk enough that Yuuko could tell herself it was just one of those mistakes you made with judgment lowered (one of those mistakes she made often if she would be honest).

"You say these things, and then you never explain them," she said grumpily, when he had leaned back over to his side of the couch. The moment had passed and neither of them might acknowledge it again that night, or they might return to it later. Yuuko didn't like to categorize this thing they had. It was only much later that she realized it was a part of her more subtle precognition; if she didn't admit there was something, it wouldn't be so hard to lose.

"I must have something up on you," he answered playfully, "because otherwise you would own all of me, even more than you do."

"I don't want to own you," she retorted, but she let him fill her glass and settled back against the couch, letting her bare feet brush against his as he leaned against the other armrest.

"That's a shame," he said, laughing a little with the tone he wore for his most brilliant ideas, "because I was thinking of having a certificate made. I know it irritates you when the other witches flirt with me. I could carry the page around, you see, and absolve myself of their attentions more politely that way."

"You are an idiot," she answered. Jesting or not, she wanted no certificate, no gifts (beyond sex and sake, which were more like needs than presents anyway), no binding. The centuries stretched backwards, the centuries stretched forwards, and Yuuko stretched on the couch and pressed her toes into his side. The position was awkward until she shifted on her back, and she suspected that half of the reason for his sudden grin was his ability to see up her skirt that way, but she pinched him with her toes and enjoyed his grimace.

In retaliation, he sat up and pulled her into his lap, arms snaking around her waist, and they still weren't drunk enough to blame it on the wine (not that Clow ever did, he wasn't half as stupid as Yuuko claimed, and recognized love when he was in it).

"You know what they say about Shakespeare, anyway," she said, fingernails scraping across his cheek and pulling his glasses off.

"A bit high-strung and dramatic, but he'll grow into his own?" Clow suggested. "I have to admit, the first time I saw Hamlet performed I wasn't particularly impressed."

Blinded by her spectacles theft, he stared at her with unfocused eyes until she kissed him and he shut them. Her tongue in his mouth was almost angry, but he was used to that. His touches were gentle and hers were irritated. He didn't blame her for that, which somehow made her angrier.

He hadn't told her yet that he was planning to die. But a conversation like that reverberated down one's timeline, sometimes, and she would be so furious about that one that he felt as though he deserved her rage now, in the little packets that she delivered it.

"No," she answered scornfully, because she hadn't been in England then, and didn't care, "that an infinite number of monkeys on an infinite number of typewriters could, in time, reproduce all of his work. So I can't say it's that impressive."

Clow furrowed his brow. "Those must be very bright monkeys," he said, a stupid thing calculated to raise her ire, and she reacted as he expected, by growling at him and then biting his neck. He hid the satisfied sound he wanted to make.

"I believe you're missing the point of my statement, dearest," he said breathily, but then they went on to miss the point for quite a lot longer. She woke in the morning with her head on his stomach (that sort of odd position always happened when she shared her bed with someone) and a vague memory of some sort of ridiculous philosophical discussion, but most of the memory was overwhelmed by her hangover. It shouldn't have been as bad as it was, she thought grimly, as she hadn't been that drunk when they'd finally managed to sleep.

But she did remember it, years later, when Watanuki began, "There are more things, Yuuko-san," his tone sarcastic, and she stopped him by throwing Mokona at him. As she expected, Larg proved a wonderful distraction.

But she didn't get entirely drunk that night, either, even though she woke alone, sheets tangled.

"Idiot," she mumbled into the dark, and then clutched Mokona close and slid back into sleep.

Distant Rain (Clow/Yuuko)

2009-10-20T14:22:48Z

Title: Distant Rain
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 1006 words
Prompt: 31_days: 17 Oct 09 // solemn talk of distant rain
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: n/a

Excerpt: "I didn't tell you because it would have made you angry," he said to her sleeping form, "to think it wouldn't rain until the day after you died. You always have a flair for the dramatic, Yuuko."

"It's going to rain," he said, the first words she heard upon waking. She could taste the rain in the air, her eyes slit against the sudden light. She felt weary, achy, as though she had been asleep or ill for a long time. She lay there, head reeling, and tried to figure out what was going on, but before she could, she drifted back to sleep.

The drops began to patter down. Quietly Clow pulled the screen closed and walked over to her bed, looking down at her.

"I didn't tell you because it would have made you angry," he said to her sleeping form, "to think it wouldn't rain until the day after you died. You always have a flair for the dramatic, Yuuko."

Her brow furrowed in her sleep, and she sighed, but didn't move. He reached down to brush his fingers across her cheek, but then pulled his hand back as if he had been burned. Her fever still hadn't broken, but it had to be a magical one. It would stop eventually, when her body sorted out the spells that were keeping her time paused, her body approximating life. She would adapt to her stasis.

He sighed as well. He'd been working ever since that moment had broken, ever since he heard her last breath shudder free and thought, please, and his wish was granted. He'd put her to bed and listened to her heartbeat, somehow steady again, for an hour, and then he'd started analysis. A notebook full of speculation, theories, scratched-out spell arrays, and hopeless determination lay beside her bed. He hadn't wanted to go away, even for a moment.

He was afraid he would lose her again. And terrified further that she would wake. When she had her wits about her again, she would be so angry.

He sat down and leaned back against the bed, resting his head on the edge of it, and he shut his eyes. The rain fell steadily, drearily, and Clow couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. It had been several days ago that he'd seen her death approaching, and came to see her. He hadn't told her, of course, because that is one thing no seer should know (except himself, but he was always the exception to the rule, wasn't he?).

And he was a good actor. She hadn't guessed that his sudden visit was out of the ordinary. He came and went at odd intervals, stepping into the shop when he looked up at the moon and thought of her, or when he procured some good sake, or when he wanted a consult on something.

Maybe he spoiled her a little more than usual, but she'd never complain about that. He'd thought he would be able to walk away, in the end. Not happily, of course, as she had been one of his favorite pupils, or so he told himself. (She'd been more, and he'd never said, but she knew, and it had always put a certain curve to her smile.) But he had lost his students before, and his family; it was the curse of one as long-lived as he was.

Perhaps he should have told her, he thought. Not that she was going to die, but that he loved her. He didn't think there would be time for that, now. That would only complicate the matter.

The rain became louder, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Clow didn't hear it, succumbing to his exhaustion, falling asleep there with his back pressed up against the bed.

He woke with his face cold against the floor and a discarded page from his notebook pressed to his cheek. And also with her foot on his neck.

"So you're awake," he muttered into the boards.

"You are a total idiot," she countered, her voice hoarse.

"I know," he answered honestly.

There was a sharp flare of magic and he had a moment to think: her power feels the same, before he was deposited unceremoniously into her front yard, just left of the flowers he'd planted earlier that year, into the middle of a big mud puddle.

The rain was a cold shock to his system, though he did feel a certain chill of relief. She hadn't changed, then. That might make this easier. He'd need her sharp brain to work out the possibilities.

He got up, wrung out his tunic, and stepped back up to the porch.

"Yuuko--"

"I hate you," she said through the door.

"I'll make you breakfast."

"That doesn't even begin to fix this."

"That is only the beginning," he promised, and he half-smiled before he could stop himself, immediately thankful that she hadn't opened the door yet.

"That's always the problem with you," she growled, pulling the screen, and he noticed the way she wobbled, just a little, as she stepped back to sit on her bed.

He reached down, picked up his notebook, and handed it to her before going back to the kitchen. He hadn't gotten three steps before she began calling out to him, arguing with his conclusions in its contents. It would have been easier if she'd come into the kitchen, but he just cast a voice-amplifying spell back in her direction, and they had a high-level theory discussion while he made food.

That is, until she yawned and her words slowed. By the time he came back, she was asleep again, her feet dangling off the end of the bed, the notebook loosely grasped at her side. He lifted her gently, tucking her back underneath the covers, leaving the plate and the notebook on her bedside table. The food would be cold when she woke up again, and he would have to make something else, probably, but if he didn't leave it, she would ask.

Then he settled down again to wait. They had time enough, or something resembling it.

They had more than enough time. And that was the problem.

Papa Clow (Clow/Yuuko; Watanuki gen)

2009-10-20T14:16:34Z

Title: Papa Clow
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 1352 words
Prompt: comment_fic: xxxHolic, Clow/Yuuko, Clow's alive, and he wants to be Watanuki’s father figure! Yuuko is not amused. Gratuitous use of the jokes involving marriage, divorce and 'call me papa' are encouraged.
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: This is rather... cracky. And obviously AU given the prompt.

Excerpt: Yuuko pulled free from the man's grasp, and Watanuki could have swore she elbowed him in the nose, but when he turned back to Watanuki, he seemed just fine, and not phased in the slightest. "I'm sorry for not introducing myself," he said. "Clow Reed. It's a pleasure to meet you. But you can call me Papa if you'd like."

If Watanuki had ever thought to make a list of things that Yuuko did that were unusual-- not unusual for normal people, that is, because most things she did were weirder than anything normal people did-- but a list of things that were unusual for her to do, "shouting" would be at the top of the list. He suspected that she thought it took too much effort, when a quiet correction held quite as much weight, coming from her.

Therefore, coming in to work and hearing screaming coming from her sitting room was a definite worry. He burst through the door, panting, not sure what he would be able to do against something that would make Yuuko angry, but the scene he burst in on was nothing like what he had expected (a dragon? two dragons? heck, she'd probably be friends with a manticore).

"Absolutely not!" she finished before looking up, honestly surprised to see Watanuki standing there. Watanuki's eyes swiveled over to the other individual in the room. Yuuko was standing, legs spread and hands on her hips in the manner of a very irritated woman. Her rage was directed at the man leaning across her favorite couch. He was very tall, with small round glasses and a half-smile which Watanuki certainly wouldn't have been able to maintain against Yuuko's vehemence.

"Um--" Watanuki began, feeling as though he were interrupting something. Not just a fight. He found himself blushing furiously.

The tall man smiled even brighter. "And here he is," he said, making Watanuki feel even more uncomfortable. They had been fighting about him?

He turned his gaze to Yuuko, eyes wide with something resembling pleading. Some of the rage dissipated, though Watanuki had the feeling she'd simply tucked it away for later.

"Don't worry about the idiot," she said to Watanuki. "He was just leaving."

"Yuuko, Yuuko," the man said in a soothing tone, rising from the divan to take her shoulders in his big hands. "You thought I was dead, and yet you want me to leave so soon? I want to stick around this time, love." He looked at her tenderly. "We must take proper care of Watanuki, you know."

Watanuki was pretty experienced with shock, especially working for Yuuko. But this was a cold splash down his spine, and a rooting of his feet to the floor, and his eyes so wide that he felt his glasses slipping down his nose.

Yuuko pulled free from the man's grasp, and Watanuki could have swore she elbowed him in the nose, but when he turned back to Watanuki, he seemed just fine, and not phased in the slightest. "I'm sorry for not introducing myself," he said. "Clow Reed. It's a pleasure to meet you. But you can call me Papa if you'd like."

"Papa!" someone agreed cheerfully. Watanuki watched as Mokona bounced past him and into Clow's hand. Clow lifted it to his shoulder, where it snuggled at his face.

"You're my father?!" Watanuki squeaked. From the look on Yuuko's face, it was entirely the wrong thing to say, especially as he continued, "And Yuuko-san is-- is--"

"CLOW!" Yuuko bit out. Clow petted Mokona and looked at Watanuki thoughtfully. Watanuki stared at him. Well, the man was tall, and dark-haired, and had poor eyesight. His eyes weren't quite the same blue as Watanuki's, but they did look a lot alike.

"In a way of speaking, yes," Clow answered him, eyes twinkling with his mischief. "Unfortunately, a very long time ago, Yuuko and I divorced--"

"We were never married! And you were dead!" she shouted, her face growing red with irritation.

Clow waved a hand. "The laws of marriage have changed quite a bit since we were born, dearest, but we did live together, consummate--"

Watanuki and Yuuko both squeaked at that, though Watanuki's squeak was horror and Yuuko's was rage. He looked at his-- (he couldn't even think it) employer, whose fists were balled at her sides, tension radiating from every inch of her being, and somehow Watanuki was surprised she hadn't jumped on Clow and twisted his head off to stop him talking.

(If he'd been able to see other things than ghosts with those mismatched eyes of his, he might have seen the magical tension in the room, which could be metaphorically cut with a knife, though in practice, one would need an electric chainsaw. Unfortunately for Yuuko, Clow practically sweated power from his pores, and at her strongest she was still his second. And he wanted to finish his joke before he'd let her beat him up.

And he would let her, in the end, because he knew who wore the pants in their relationship, at least until he remembered he had more pants, and pressed more neatly as well.)

Clow coughed. "And of course, there were the children. You've raised them quite well on your own, Yuuko. I'm very proud. But I have been away from my family long enough, and I've come back to help."

"THIS is my father?" Watanuki began, turning to Yuuko, but her rage honestly scared him, even directed at someone else. "This?" he said, much more quietly.

"Well, if we must be technical, the phrase should be 'father figure,' regretfully," Clow answered. "You are my own flesh and blood, but our relationship is a little less straightforward than father and child. You could still consider Mokona to be your siblings, though. Those were the children Yuuko and I made ourselves."

"Brother!" Mokona said, making a flying leap and attaching itself to Watanuki's face, muffling his rage.

"This meatbun?" he said. "My sibling?"

"Clow Reed," Yuuko said then, and her voice was level and incredibly dangerous. Watanuki's feet began shuffling backward of their own accord.

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind leaving your parents to get reacquainted, Kimihiro-kun?" Clow said, and then to Yuuko, "You haven't moved your bedroom, have you?"

"I haven't," she said in the same careful monotone. She took three steps in his direction, leaned up almost as though she were going to kiss him (Watanuki screwed his eyes shut), but grabbed Clow's collar instead. She pulled him down to her level, pressing their foreheads together for a moment before dragging him out of the room. Watanuki watched them go in honest wonder.

"What just happened?" he asked Mokona.

With the most innocent tone, Mokona answered, "Papa Clow just came home. Mama Yuuko has missed him a lot."

"Really," Watanuki said faintly.

There was complete silence from the back room. It was unnerving. He supposed Yuuko had used magic to cover--

Whatever it was they were doing. Watanuki shivered. He was pretty sure this wasn't part of his job description. He went home.

*

The next day when he came back, he stepped into the shop very carefully, but it was silent. He stepped loudly in the hallway as a warning, but when he swung open the door to the sitting room, Yuuko was alone, lounging on the couch. She had a bottle by her side and her pipe in her hand. Her eyes were shut, but she was smiling faintly. Mokona was cuddled up to the bottle in a determined but sleepy fashion.

"Ahh?" Watanuki said. Yuuko cracked open one eye.

"Watanuki," she trilled cheerily, "we need snacks to go with this marvelous sake!"

He looked down, suddenly suspicious, at the nearest empty bottle.

"This isn't the kind you usually drink," he said.

She giggled a dangerous giggle. "It's part of the divorce negotiations," she answered. She opened both her eyes, leaning forward on the couch to rest her head in her hands and study Watanuki.

"Di--" he stuttered.

"Visitation rights," she said, fluttering a hand. She smiled, her eyes far-away, as if she were remembering something. A hand wandered down to adjust her dress.

"I'll go get those snacks!" Watanuki said swiftly, darting back into the hallway and heading for the kitchen.

He wondered how long it would be before he had two employers, and sighed.

four times Clow and Yuuko (didn't really) argue, and one time they did (Clow/Yuuko)

2009-10-20T14:10:46Z

Title: four times Clow and Yuuko (didn't really) argue, and one time they did
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 2024 words
Prompt: n/a
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko; slight Yue/Clow implied (#2)
Other: PG for sexual references (#3 and #5)

Excerpt: "I'm certain there was another bottle left. I know I brought an extra, just in case." Clow frowned, trying to concentrate on the scene before him, but every bottle he reached for was clearly empty. Even if his hand-eye coordination wasn't very good at the moment, their emptiness was depressingly obvious.

1. gottle of geer

"I'm certain there was another bottle left. I know I brought an extra, just in case." Clow frowned, trying to concentrate on the scene before him, but every bottle he reached for was clearly empty. Even if his hand-eye coordination wasn't very good at the moment, their emptiness was depressingly obvious.

"There is no more booze, Reed. Obviously you're too drunk to count," Yuuko answered, not bothering to get up from the couch.

"Then perhaps it's time to stop for the night," he said, sighing and turning back to wobble back to the couch. She pulled her feet out of his path just in time.

"I'm not that drunk!" she protested, scowling. She'd drink more, if only there was something to drink.

"What a shame. Clearly, I should have brought another bottle with me."

He leaned over to smile apologetically at her, but overbalanced and found himself sliding off the couch. He lay there a moment. She nudged him with her foot.

"Still alive," he mumbled into the carpet, "but no more booze."

"You don't know when to stop," she said.

"No argument there," he answered.

She rolled her eyes and lounged there a moment longer, contemplating the lack of alcohol. Clow started snoring.

"You'd better, next time," she said to his sleeping form, but she affectionately pushed him onto his side so that he wouldn't choke on his vomit before she stumbled off to her own bed.

*

2. reflections

"He's a stick in the mud," she said, and when Clow opened his mouth to protest, she held up her hand. "But that's not the worst of it, you know. You have made someone to love you, wholly, and he does."

He didn't answer for a long moment. He wasn't sure how. He'd known that if she had hung around the mansion for long enough, she'd get to know his family. And Yuuko was not stupid, even if she could be silly.

But he'd never worked out how to answer this accusation. It was no mistake, not exactly. He would not change Yue, not for all the alcohol in the world. Yue was a person. This was the personality he'd developed, and interfering with it would mean he thought of his creations as no better than dolls.

"I know," he said finally. She looked at him, looked away, and then looked back, her expression even more incredulous.

"Hubris," she hissed.

"Certainly," he answered. "But we were all once young, and stupid."

"And you were exceptionally," she answered. She stared up at him, and blinked. For a moment, he saw just a touch of pity. For Yue, he assumed, of course. After all, he couldn't help how he was made.

She wandered off to raid his liquor cabinet, then, and he didn't protest when she pulled out the good wines.

*

3. first comes love then comes

They had their separate spaces. There was no question about that. Of course, they often spent time in each other's houses, but in the end, Clow went home to his mansion and Yuuko relaxed in the shop.

"You could move in with me," he said once, on a lazy day when they were both laying sprawled across his bed, hair tangled, the room full of her smoke. She raised her head to stare at him in disbelief.

"What kind of a stupid idea is that?"

He waved a hand, disturbing the air. "Just a thought, my love, just a thought."

"We'd drive each other insane," she said, daring him to disagree. "I can only stand you in small doses."

"You've put up with me for centuries," he answered, half-smiling, taking her free hand and rubbing her palm. She let him for a moment before she took it back.

"Only because we have our boundaries," she answered, and her tone was honest, and it hurt his feelings a little. He had always thought her all bluster in her irritation, which helped him not to be offended by it.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and his hurt must have showed on his face, because she turned over onto her stomach, resting her head in her hands, and she looked at him.

"I mean," she said, tracing a finger down the underside of his arm, making him shiver, "that you are annoying, and I am high-maintenance, and we are very used to being our own people."

She furrowed her brow, pausing with her nails pressed into his wrist, "And I don't want to move here-- it's impossibly dreary, and not close enough to the shop, and then I would have to be on the lookout all the time for Cerberus stealing my food and Yue stealing all cheer from the room."

She reached over to pick up her pipe from the bedside table, pulling on it again and setting it back before resting her head in her folded arms and letting the smoke escape slowly to the air.

"I suppose," he answered after a long moment, disappointed, and he didn't ask her again.

*

4. polarities

"Considering how much they eat," Yuuko said, leaning back against his shoulder familiarly, "we ought have named them after food."

Clow laughed. "Powerful names, you remember. Who could take them seriously if we named them like that?"

She rolled her eyes. "No one will take them seriously," she answered. "They're cute and sweet little things. Children."

"Children with big jobs," he answered, softly, and she realized she was touching him again. She shifted away.

"Of course," she answered, suppressing her irritation, "but children all the same."

"I wouldn't name my children after food," he answered, looking down at her, though she was looking away. She knew his face would be just a little disappointed, and she didn't want to see it.

"I can't imagine who would give you children," she answered tartly, and he bit his lip so he didn't answer, We made these ones together, didn't we?

But the thought reassured him. All was not lost. After all, she'd consented to the Mokona.

"No one who knew any better, I'm sure," he answered, self-deprecatingly, and reached out to brush her cheek.

It took her just a moment longer to pull away.

*

1. endings

She threw up her hands and took a pace forward, and then back. "There are too many variables. How can you expect this to work, honestly?"

"I've seen it happening," he answered, not looking up from his spell-sketching. "If we set things in motion, then the choices will be made. You believe in hitsuzen. Why is this so hard?"

"I just--"

She bit back her first response, and her second, and finally stalked off into the next room, slamming the door. Clow's house had good doors for slamming, and the sound echoed down the hallway. He didn't get up immediately, adding a few more lines before pulling himself from his chair to follow. The noise had attracted Cerberus to the hallway.

"What's going on?" the guardian asked.

"Yuuko is mad," Clow answered softly, patting Kero's head, "not that that's unusual."

Cerberus leaned against his master's leg and said, "Would you like me to talk to her?" Clow let his hand tangle in the beast's mane for a moment before he chuckled and answered, "No, I suppose I should go face my medicine."

She hadn't locked the door, since there was no point in trying. When he opened the door to the spare room she'd been staying in, she was pulling clothes from their hangers, picking hairpins off the vanity, her movements short and sharp and irritated. She wasn't making a great deal of effort to fit anything into the small satchel she had brought with her (small on the outside, that is, this was Yuuko after all).

"Yuuko--" he began, somewhat uncertain what had provoked her rage. Ever since they'd begun working on the finer details of the plan, she'd been more moody than usual. "What's wrong?" he asked finally, simply.

She glared at him. "You're leaving," she bit out. "You're leaving me alone with this mess. And that's the best plan you could come up with."

"Do you think I like the idea?" he asked, disbelieving. He shut the door behind him and warded it before continuing, "Do you think I want to leave my guardians, the Cards, the Mokona, or you?"

Any normal insult from her would have rolled right off him, but this assumption of disloyalty, of running away, made him furious. If she thought that something like that would be in his character, she didn't know him at all. If she thought that about him, he didn't know her at all, and if that were true, then who was it he had loved too much? An idea of a woman?

"It doesn't matter whether you want," she answered, "because it's what you're doing."

Something about her glare was softening, though, and he realized, surprised, that her eyes were wet. She seemed to realize it too, and whipped around to face the vanity, leaning over to fiddle with her things there.

"You are an impossible jerk," she said quietly.

"You always say that," he said, not denying it. He moved close enough to run a hand down her neck and across her shoulder. She turned to face him and buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling, shuddering, but only for a moment.

"It's a stupid plan," she said, lifting her face to look at him, and there was anger in her eyes again. And because he knew Yuuko very well, he ignored her slightly puffy eyes, brushing a hand across her cheek to catch the lone tear, but he said nothing about it.

"It will work," he said.

"It had better!" she answered, glowering. "Because if it doesn't, then when I get to the afterlife, you are getting it."

"Oh?" he answered, allowing a smirk to emerge. "Getting what?"

She smacked him across the chest, wresting from from his grip. "A piece of my mind."

"I hope it is the piece that's soaked in alcohol," he answered, his grin widening. She sighed theatrically in answer.

"You are utterly impossible, Clow Reed."

"I try my hardest," he said with a half-bow. "Now, should we?"

He gestured toward the door, but Yuuko shook her head. "Enough!" she said, flopping down on the bed. "Don't you ever stop working?"

Clow did have a habit of overwork; he'd strive to finish a project in almost a manic manner, forgoing proper sleep and food and sometimes even shaving for a couple of months if he was onto something. But he'd take a couple months off after that, to lounge around his house and tease Yuuko and drink good wines. It wasn't the way that Yuuko liked to work, and he was surprised, honestly, that she'd put up with it for as long as she had. Yuuko valued proper mealtimes and sleeping late and drinking all the time. Work had to fit in around that.

"If you'd like to take a break, that can be arranged," he answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He wasn't surprised when she sat up, took his glasses, and pulled him down on top of her. She kissed him once, fiercely, and then put her fingers on his lips when he tried to speak again.

"No arrangements necessary."

"Locking the door might be a good idea," he answered, sucking on her fingertips.

She rolled her eyes but slipped out of his grasp for long enough to do so, returning with a flying leap that quite knocked the wind out of him. That was Yuuko, mischievous to a fault.

No more was said of work that afternoon, or evening, and no more was ever said of that fight. But they did have another one the next week. And another a couple of weeks after that.

The fights really weren't unusual, up until the day he left. And after that, she argued with his memory. At least it didn't answer back.

(He was going to get a piece of her mind, though, when she saw him again, regardless of whether the plan worked or not.)

Moon (Clow/Yuuko)

2009-10-16T12:44:50Z

Title: Moon
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 824 words
Prompt: 31_days: 16 Oct 09 // bring me lasting light
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: n/a

Excerpt: He would call her things like, "Yuuko, the goddess of my heart," or "Yuuko, my beloved," when introducing her to others. She would just smirk and say, "This is the idiot, my colleague," and let their new friends make their own conclusions.

The problem Clow had with letting Yuuko know that he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her was that now she knew. And Yuuko took every ounce of information that she learned, and she used it. Given, half the time it was only used for a quip or perhaps a prank, but with the other half she could clone gods, soak herself in sake, and sometimes drive her boyfriend insane.

Firstly, by never referring to him that way. He would call her things like, "Yuuko, the goddess of my heart," or "Yuuko, my beloved," when introducing her to others. She would just smirk and say, "This is the idiot, my colleague," and let their new friends make their own conclusions. He could always correct them, of course, but it really wasn't very polite.

(Though that epiphet, as impolite as it was, was still a present. Another magician friend of theirs had confided once that he never heard Yuuko refer to anyone else as a colleague, as an equal. "And once you've been introduced as, 'the idiot, sometimes helpful,'" he had deadpanned, "you find it difficult to consider her a colleague in return.")

And secondly, she was demanding. The courting stage of their long relationship never quite ended. He was always making her food, bringing her flowers and trinkets, yes, because he wanted to, but also because she asked. But her whims would change inexplicably overnight or sometimes within the hour, and the cake would have to become a pie instead, or the evening in instead a night out dancing.

He never complained, never protested (though occasionally pouted, because it amused her so and because it was sometimes disappointing to be interrupted mid-project). She took, and took, and rarely offered back, unless you counted the sharing of her knowledge, her pipe, her alcohol, her presence, and her bed-- all of which Clow did. He didn't want presents in return. He simply wanted Yuuko.

And even her whimsies could be entertaining. "Light," she said one evening, apropos of nothing. The moon was bright enough to see her, pale against the shop porch, but there was no artificial light lit that night. She'd convinced the streetlights to be dim, just for a while.

She was half in his arms, half flat against the boards, and she lifted a hand to trace a picture in the air, her finger glowing just a little before fading again.

"Yes, my dear?" he answered, watching her trails of light, and she made a fft sound, exhaling smoke.

"It doesn't last," she answered, her tone reflective, nearly dark. They had been sitting there, joking, teasing amiably in the moonlight, only a moment before, but he was used to the way her moods shifted, even if sometimes he could not follow the reasoning for it.

"Nothing does. Not forever," he said, stroking her cheek. Even with all the power at his disposal, he would die someday. And someday, he would lose her, a thought that prickled coldly at the base of his spine.

"I know," she said.

That seemed to be the extent of her thought, or at least, the extent that she wanted to share. After a moment, he reached out and began plucking moonlight out of the air, a parlor trick he had learned years before they met. He pressed it into a circlet that he laid onto her head. She was a demi-goddess, at least, with a crown of silver. She grinned and leaned back against him, looking at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were brighter in the reflection.

"This will last," he said, looking up at the sky, so that she couldn't see what he was thinking, "for as long as you'd like, though it might need recharging in a few decades."

"You always miss the point," she answered, but she pulled it off her head, ran her fingers across the smooth light, which felt like warm silver, and then replaced it.

"Have I?" he said, letting himself look back down at her. He'd tell her later how to do the recharging of it, when her mind was further from mortality, and maybe she wouldn't connect the dots until he was ready for her to know.

Probably not. She was very smart. But he'd try, anyway.

"Impermanence is beautiful," she answered.

He flicked the crown and turned it off. She frowned at him. He chuckled and turned it back on.

"I'm glad you think that," he said. She lifted an eyebrow but he let his gaze slip away from her challenge. After a moment, she got up and walked across the yard into full moonlight, lifting her hand to the sky for a moment before grabbing the crown and flinging it like a Frisbee into the darkness.

"Dance with me," she said, opening her arms to him, and no more was said of permanence that night.