Entry tags:
fic: Autumn Flowers
Title: Autumn Flowers
Series: XXXholic
Character/Pairing: (implied) Clow/Yuuko, Watanuki.
Rating: PG?
Word count: 245
Author's note: comment_fic: autumnal flowers / old!Gauntlet: The Seven Autumn Flowers. For![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dropsofviolet as a General Winter Holidays gift.
In fall the ginkgo leaves turn golden fall to pave the streets. Watanuki curses under his breath as he rakes them up, unknowing as Yuuko reaches out her hand for a sly spell to muss them up again and send him careening back and his pile in heaps again.
A scream of frustration and he pushes his glasses up and starts all over again at this hopeless task.
A sly smile, a chuckle. She lifts spiced wine to her lips and savors the taste. He is ever so much fun.
I know, the smug voice on the wind says. Aren't you glad I sent him to you?
She ignores the voice, one she knows very well.
Ghostly fingers bring her hydrangea bundles which she deigns to pick up and breathe in the scent of, and proclaim grudgingly in vases on her bedside. When she wakes up, they smell like the dampness of rain. Bouquets of Anemone and Tsuwabuki comes to her in little yellow and pink flowers left to fill over vases.
No note is ever let; none need be.
Sometimes on lonesome autumn nights when the moon is risen high and the air is crisp, she drinks and remembers. But not often, for then that would make this another battle he has won, and she can't have that.
Series: XXXholic
Character/Pairing: (implied) Clow/Yuuko, Watanuki.
Rating: PG?
Word count: 245
Author's note: comment_fic: autumnal flowers / old!Gauntlet: The Seven Autumn Flowers. For
dropsofviolet as a General Winter Holidays gift.In fall the ginkgo leaves turn golden fall to pave the streets. Watanuki curses under his breath as he rakes them up, unknowing as Yuuko reaches out her hand for a sly spell to muss them up again and send him careening back and his pile in heaps again.
A scream of frustration and he pushes his glasses up and starts all over again at this hopeless task.
A sly smile, a chuckle. She lifts spiced wine to her lips and savors the taste. He is ever so much fun.
I know, the smug voice on the wind says. Aren't you glad I sent him to you?
She ignores the voice, one she knows very well.
Ghostly fingers bring her hydrangea bundles which she deigns to pick up and breathe in the scent of, and proclaim grudgingly in vases on her bedside. When she wakes up, they smell like the dampness of rain. Bouquets of Anemone and Tsuwabuki comes to her in little yellow and pink flowers left to fill over vases.
No note is ever let; none need be.
Sometimes on lonesome autumn nights when the moon is risen high and the air is crisp, she drinks and remembers. But not often, for then that would make this another battle he has won, and she can't have that.