Synopsis: Fairytales were just bed time, for books, for make believe. But one can dream...YaKari. Don't knock it till you try it.
Perhaps you weren't the most realistic one of the bunch.
You didn't analyze things logically, with rhyme and reason, with your mind. I mean, you had far more important things..like your heart, and I mean, the heart always comes first.
But, it's not to say you're gonna get married or that you're bound to each other now into forever (but that sounds really..nice) you're just thinking about it, ya know. People can dream.
As you absently stir the simmering rice in the pot before you, you consider how you'll be making boatloads of these in some quaint little house. It'll almost always smell like rice (even if rice doesn't really have a smell) and guitar polish.
You contemplate two little kids, one boy and one girl of course, as they wake up from you yelling from the kitchen as you hurriedly prepare their lunches for day care ("Love, they'll be back by 2. Don't pack the world." He says groggily from the bedroom.)
The boy will be inherently cute (from your side, you say) with God like hair (from MY side, he'll insist). He'll be tall for his age, with long golden strands and almost jarring crimson red eyes. He'll be polite and say thank yous, pleases, you first. He'll love photography and take pictures of EVERYTHING, even mommy when she wakes up and looks horrid with no make up on. ("You look beautiful, Kar." He'll mumble as he kisses your neck.)
And the girl, the girl will be tiny and cute with her honey brown hair spun up into two bun buns and bows galore. She'll sing and rock out on guitar, but not too much, because sometimes she can get tired really quickly and she has to rest.
So, you'll pack their tiny backpacks full with pocky, cookies, pasta, rice to make sure that they don't go hungry. And even when daddy makes lunch, you have to make it, because all of daddy's food tends to come out green for some reason...and the kids swear it moves, but you know they're exaggerating.
Then, when they're tucked away at school, he'll come up behind you and say good morning (even if it's like 11:30 already) but you'll ignore it. You'll spoon him up a plate and one for you, and you guys'll sit and talk and he'll say how tired he is even though he woke up, because last night's gig was a real doozy and the crowd couldn't get enough Wolf.
And just before he goes to take a shower, to go pick up the kids, he'll say how beautiful you are this morning (in your yellow tank top and pink shorts and Old Navy flipflops) cause he's always sweet and mushy even though he's the brooder. The loner. The mysterious man that everyone wants.
But you got him, all of him, Wolf and Loner and Brooder at once.
The kids are picked up and they tell you about school and you're already making dinner and you keep telling him, "Yama, they have to eat -_-" And he says, "Yeah right after this one."
And he's showing them how to play the intro to Smoke on the Water on guitar, and the girl is already down to the second chorus lines. The boy is busy taking angled pictures and shots of the guitar upright, downright, on the side. ("Son, that is not how you play it!" He insists, snatching the camera away and forcing the instrument into his hands.) Eventually, you manage him away from the guitar (the girl is sad the boy is overjoyed) and you feed them and soon tuck them away to sleep.
You're tiredly plopping into bed, snuggling into the covers as you try and find that absolutely perfect spot. You found it and he comes up behind you, trying to snake his long, spindly arms around you and you almost frown cause he ruined the perfect spot.
But now it's really perfect, all entwined in him and it's warm and sweet and you think, this kind of thing is only in movies, but you both lull to sleep and he whispers "I love you, My Light." and you smile and tell him he's the best friend and love and Wolf she could ever have, forreal, pinky promise (you don't break that shit, forreal now)
You see, everyone's allowed to day dream about futures and forevers and rice-guitar polish smelling houses. You just kinda wonder if maybe, sorta, he's thinking about it too.
"Think we'll ever get like hitched some day?" He asks behind you, arms snaking around you, spindly and all.
You smile, tender and sweet.
"Eh, I don't know..maybe."
I know. I've taken quite sometime to update That Summer Heat, but guys, I'm in major writers block! I'm listening to cute romance songs and this idea popped up in my head, partially based on a couple I know in my life. Don't worry, it isn't me.
Any requests for a one-shot? yakari, Takari, ect? Please review!