Change

Pairings: Watanuki x Yuuko

As much as you fought to accept it, this is your home now.

And as much as you don't want to admit it, you don't want your wish granted anymore.

You've begun to ask her little things about her past, hoping that the exchange in information will add to your toll. You don't remember when her jokes – at her rates you'll be hers until the next century – started to sound like something you could live with. All you know is that you're not lonely anymore, and this place in important to you. They are important to you.

And this is home.

And that day, that glorious day when she would finally grant your wish seemed so far away back then, but now it's just on the horizon and so you ask much more from her than you used to, knowing full well that it will cost you, but you don't want to leave. And why?

It's because you're so worried of what would happen if she grants your wish and then you leave the shop.

Would you ever see it again?

Would you ever see them again?

Would you ever see her again?

It's because she's too old. She's got to be – what – a couple hundred years older than you, if that? But she doesn't look old, and she sure as hell doesn't act old. And besides, you've grown up a little everyday, while her time seems to stand still.

You're reminded of this on a torrid summer morning while she's pouting and moaning outside in the yard about how sweat does not look ladylike, as it ruins her wonderfully gorgeous wardrobe; while you try not to scream at her as a hot, salty bead of sweat rolls down your brow and into your eyes, stinging them mercilessly. Cleaning the warehouse is still difficult on the coldest of days; and her whining isn't calming your temper as you tug and pull on what looks to be a fantastically oversized, ridiculous, cherry wood coffin out onto the yard.

"Why in the hell do you have this thing?"

And as you scream this, little droplets of sweat fling every which way from your shaking form.

"One must always be prepared," she lulls, uninterested.

Then, with a quick glance, her heavy lidded eyes slide to yours and the sides of her mouth tilt wickedly and she adds: "It's about your size, isn't it?"

Your terrified expression feeds her delicious flutters of laughter as you spitefully drop the coffin and stalk back to the warehouse. And though her rolling voice in the distance chimes like water glasses, all you can think are two words:

Grow up.

She kissed you once. On the corner of the mouth. When it happened your rants and shouts as you stood over her lazy figure halted into nothingness. She could have had too much sake, but then again you're never sure. She's a surprisingly functional drunk.

But her lips were warm and slightly moist with bitterness – which made you wonder why they felt so sweet. When she pulls back slightly to look and see your face, she exhales into silent giggles and you smell the faint odor of alcohol waft toward you.

As she slides back onto the sofa into her previous position, you open your mouth to scream at her.

What are you doing?

What was that?

Are you insane?

However, your fiery, angry words are blocked by the lump of surprise in your throat which forbids you to speak, so all you can do is swallow the hot, seething curses which slither fervently down your throat and make your face burn.

"Oh my," she titters. "I guess I've finally found a way to shut you up. . .I'll have to tell Doumeki."

Your face must have went white, because her giggles are much less silent than they were a moment ago.

Her skin is like the moon.

You can't help but notice. She may be older, and your employer, but you're still a male, and she's very much a woman.

It doesn't help that you spend most of your time together, so you've begun to learn her little quirks (there are many). And you'd be lying to yourself that you haven't wondered about her body when she's behind the changing screen. It's on those occasions that you're incredibly happy that you're kneeling down, and she's behind a screen with her back to you, or you'd be in trouble.

But it's those nights on the porch when you notice it the most.

She's with her sake, and the moon-rays are singing, and the breeze is fluttering over your skin while making her hair dance softly in the cool light, when you see that her skin seems to glitter like gems.

Her legs are visible from the knee down as her kimono spills around her thighs, and in those moments, you hand twitches with an abrupt yearning to wisp your fingers over that exposed skin. You begin to connive a way – since her legs are crossed – that you could cup her calf in your palm. Maybe start at the knee?

Those thoughts don't normally go any further than that since she usually notices you by then. She shifts and puts her drink to her mouth, and even though it's dark, on her lips you can still see the slight shadow of a smile.

In the end you're surprised.

Since she's the one, the one who constantly bridges the distance between your bodies, the one that lightly digs the tip of her nail into your chin when she's feeling particularly fiendish, that it would have been her. With all the flirtatious looks, and suggestive innuendos and inappropriate touching, you would've thought that she'd be the one to initiate the first move.

Instead it's you.

You're not really sure how it happened. You were standing in the kitchen fixing her dinner, and she was behind you, in one of her sage-like moments, teaching you an important lesson on life, or something. You know you should have been paying attention to what she was saying, but all you could concentrate on was how her voice thrummed through the kitchen and how your heart beat to every syllable. However, she seemed to notice your mental absence.

"Did you learn to finally ignore me? I never thought you would."

She had sounded mildly impressed. And when you turned around to face her, you were struck by how suddenly adult you felt and how much you'd changed in the time that you'd known her. And when you looked into her face you saw something that you'd never seen before: How you thought of her when you'd first met her. You don't remember much before her; and you're not sure how old you are now, but you remember how she seemed so much more mature back then. With the body and curves of a woman.

However. . . now, gazing down at her face, you realize she's just a girl.

It's when her eyes widen, and her mouth opens slightly that's you're aware that you've said those words aloud.

It's then that you're aware of how close you are to her.

"Time's funny like that, isn't it?" she says slowly. "It doesn't apply to me, but because of it, you've changed."

But so has she. She's changing right this moment as you grip the fabric of her kimono around her waist. She's changed when you let your lips taste hers and you push her up against the wall. Right now, as you wonder how the skin of her neck could be so soft and feel so smooth. How the cool ground beneath the two of you is warming up quickly, and you're sure that something on the stove has just begun to boil over as her body moves and trembles under you. Her hot tongue slithers into your ear and all the air suddenly goes out of your lungs. She's changing because you've never heard her moan quite like that before; you've never said this to her before, and she's never done that with her teeth before, and you've never touched her there before.

You're sure she's never looked at you like that before.

And when it's only skin on skin, and the sweat molds your body to hers and her fingers are woven into your hair as her breathing comes out in quick, low breathes that you're sure you'll lose your mind.

And when your heart is pounding against your chest, and the chills of pleasure are coming in long, warm waves that you're sure you already have.

And when she makes that sound. . . that rich, throaty, soft, satisfying sound, that you're positive that this change was inevitable. Because this is your hitsuzen.

After, as you're sitting against the wall with her wrapped in your arms, gasping for oxygen that she looks up at you tiredly and smiles.

"We've never done that before."

You stare at her for a moment before kissing her softly.

"No, but it's nice for a change, don't you think?"

She closes her eyes and nods as you hope that you can keep some changes permanent.

The End