He’s lying on the grass, long legs splayed out before him and one arm thrown over his head, shielding his eyes from the rays of a setting sun that would peak out occasionally from behind dense cloud cover. Not far off, he could hear the distant sounds of a large picnic party on the park grounds, friends talking and laughing.
Presently, a cool shadow falls over him. “Kyo-kun, I’m back!”
“Hm?” He brings his hand down from his face and looks up at Tohru.
She's in a white dress with a large straw hat over her head, her brown hair spilling over her bare arms in cascades, strands picking up with the wind and flying about. She is smiling, a faint blush on her pale cheeks as she stands over his head, leaning her hands on her knees. If he leans up just a bit he thinks he can reach her hand. He grasps it and pulls her down into his lap as he sits up, enjoying the sound of her startled giggles.
“Ready to go home?” he mutters against her neck as her laugh quiets down. He can feel her pulse quicken and skin heat ever so slightly against his lips.
“Mhmm… the bathroom line was long, I’m sorry to keep you waiting…” she’s running soft fingers through his hair, something sure to either put him to sleep or do something that is entirely unsuited for their current situation.
“I had a nice nap while you were away.”
“Kyo-kun, you can fall asleep just about anywhere, can’t you?”
“I’m not sleepy right now, not when you’re doing that,”
He looks up at her pointedly, just shy of being shy, loving the deep red spreading across her face. Her fingers still mid-touch and he turns his face towards them so that they are cupping his cheek instead.
“Ah-ha-ha… let’s go home then…” she murmurs, eyes soft.
Tohru was still not in the room by the time he gets out of the shower.
He walks out, expecting to see her doing something or the other in the kitchen, but the apartment is soundless.
He finds her in the dimly lit living room. She’s fallen asleep on their sofa, half her body draped over the sidearm, mouth ajar and snoring ever so slightly. He walks up to her and bends down, rests a hand on her cheek and whispers,
She’s too far gone to respond, soft sleepy sounds coming out in whispery breaths.
Kyo looks at her fondly and gently brushes away the hair that had fallen over her eyes.
He adjusts his posture and scoops her up, one hand beneath her knees, the other cradling her waist with her head coming to rest against his chest. She is small and slight in his arms, and it takes nothing for him to pick her up.
For a moment he stands still, feeling his chest rise and fall with her head against it, the faint smell of her flowery, peachy shampoo fogging his senses. She feels soft and supple against him, the backs of her knees against his palms like downy feathers. He brushes his lips tenderly against the top her head as he begins walking towards their bedroom.
Nudging the door open with his shoulder, he steps inside the room lit by a singular table lamp and lays her gently on the bed.
He bends down and carefully removes her sandals, untying the blue ribbons from around her ankles with great care and then placing them side by side the foot off the bed. He places a soft kiss on each knee as he does so. Just as he’s about to get up, he feels the light brush of fingertips against his scalp.
“Kyo-kun… “ she says sleepily, and he looks up. She‘s half sitting up and looking at him with bleary eyes under worried brows and running her fingers through his hair absently, barely touching his skin. He grabs her hand and kisses her fingertips before saying,
“Go back to sleep, silly…. I’ve got you.”
Tohru mumbles in weak protest but her head falls back down onto the pillow. This time, she’s out for good.
Rare are the moments where he catches her totally off guard, where she’s not running around doing something for him or asking if he needs anything. Sometimes though, on days when she’s too tired from work and chores, he’ll find her asleep on the sofa and he’s come to love the routine that follows, of taking care of her without her trying to stop him or do something for him in return.
Kyo stands and removes the clips from her hair, careful to not let any strand catch and pull. He pulls the blankets up to her chin and tucks her in, making sure she is covered before switching the lamp off and coming in to lay down beside her as quietly as he can.
Once he is under the covers, he closes his eyes and sighs, feeling the soft sheets beneath him, the weight of the comforter. He inches closer to the warmth from Tohru’s sleeping form next to him, breathing quiet and steady. She turns in her sleep and moves closer into him, her head almost tucking into his chest, a familiar position. He bridges the distance between them by scooting closer and she moves in even more, her hand coming to rest on his chest, fingers lightly grasping the front of his shirt. That was a habit of hers, even when awake, she’d grasp his sleeve while walking , or tug it to get his attention without words, or just hold onto the front lapels of his shirt and tug and look up at him with an open smile. She’s so close, he can feel the gentle puffs of her breath against his neck.
It catches him off guard sometimes, this life he is inhabiting.
The nightmares from years past are long gone. Sleep then, was nothing but a restless dance of tossing and turning that made Kyo despair at it's prospect. So he’d stay awake, long as he could, fending off exhaustion until his body gave way and then he would be chasing demons in his dreams till dawn broke.
Nighttime now, is made of the glide of satin soft skin against his, of sleepy sighs and almost snores, of bed time rituals of brushing their teeth side by side, catching each other’s eye in the reflection. Of moisturizing already too soft skin and pleasant, almost heady scents that were first unfamiliar but now smelled like home. Of nuzzling into a head of long brown hair that tickles him in his sleep, of making sure she always had enough blanket on her side.
It’s made of still summer evenings cooking dinner together, tasting gravy over stove tops and brushing away stray drops from the corners of sweet, sweet lips with his own. Of winding down in front of the television, his arm thrown around her shoulders as they watch a show neither is truly interested in.
It takes just the graze of finger tips on her shoulder for her look up at him, or a soft lingering look from her across the kitchen counter, and then they’d be off at breakneck speed bursting through the door of the room they shared, his hands on her hips, fingers splayed and pulling closer, closer. Never close enough. Her hands in his hair, on his neck, beneath his shirt, tugging softly, mouth now sighing now smiling.
And urgent, hungry, heated kisses, everywhere, everywhere.
Of afterwards, holding her close to him, back against his chest and arm around her shoulders. Hands entwined, nose bumping softly into her neck, making her laugh till her sides ached.
And sometimes, nighttime is for carrying his tired wife to their room, gently tucking her in and himself beside her, and closing his eyes to nothing but blissful sleep.