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sunflower

Summary:

“Uh...” Tenma says. “This is—this is going to be weird, whatever,” he mumbles to himself, and then takes a deep breath. “You like dresses, right?”

Yuki looks pointedly to the sunflower dress he’s been embroidering. He’s particularly fond of the way this one is turning out—yellow hasn’t been a color he’s worn often, but maybe he should wear it more, because this dress looks great. And it’s been a while since he’s done such intensive embroidery, too, so it’s got a charm that a lot of his other pieces don’t. Maybe he could work it into the next play somehow. And since it’s hand embroidery, Sakyo won’t badger him about the expenses, so—

He blinks a couple of times to pull himself away from his thoughts. “Yes,” he drawls, “I like dresses.” 

Notes:

i haven't even finished act 1 of winter yet but this struck me yesterday and i just Had to write it

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

In all respects, it’s been a quiet day. Yuki has been holed up in his door, embroidering on his bed, because even though it’s not professional, it’s how he remembers starting out, doing it carefully by hand while curled up on top of his blanket, feeling like there was magic moving through the thread as he pulled it through. Sometimes, sewing can be a frenetic, teething endeavor—much like The Roman Episode Episode, which is what Yuki calls the travesty that was fixing their costumes in such a short amount of time. He can’t say he’s completely forgiven Taichi for that, because clothes are clothes, and they were his holy and precious costumes that Taichi ruined, but he works around it by pretending the Taichi who ruined his dear, dear costumes is different than the Taichi who is part of Mankai Company, which is pretty close to the truth, anyways. But the point is that as hectic and as intensive as his work can be, sometimes it’s calm, peaceful, and patient work.

Like he’s got a weird, come-in-at-the-most-inconvenient-moment sensor, it’s at this point that Tenma decides to swing the door to their room open.

Yuki doesn’t even bother to look up, waiting for Tenma to shuffle in, flop down on his bed, and groan about whatever filming he’d been involved in today. Yuki will disinterestedly nod but still manage to absorb what he’s saying, because it’s Tenma and it’s specifically Tenma post-filming, and maybe he hasn’t yet gotten out of his acting mode yet, because he seems to inflect everything he says then with this rhythm and emotion that makes it unable to ignore. Maybe it’s not that at all, because Yuki still listens, even when Tenma’s not in his post-filming haze, maybe because Tenma has so much natural gravitas it’s impossible not to do so, or maybe, just maybe, Yuki likes to hear him talk. 

It definitely can’t be the last one. Yuki can admit to paying attention, but Tenma has said some stupid shit in the time they’ve known each other. There’s no way he can condone a sentence like “I like hearing him talk” in good conscience. 

Tenma has not moved from the doorway. In fact, he’s been awkwardly clearing his throat, and Yuki finally decides to take pity on him and meet his eyes. “What’s up?” He asks.

Tenma is quiet. He looks like he wants to say something, though, so Yuki just raises an eyebrow.

“Uh...” Tenma says. “This is—this is going to be weird, whatever,” he mumbles to himself, and then takes a deep breath. “You like dresses, right?”

Yuki looks pointedly to the sunflower dress he’s been embroidering. He’s particularly fond of the way this one is turning out—yellow hasn’t been a color he’s worn often, but maybe he should wear it more, because this dress looks great. And it’s been a while since he’s done such intensive embroidery, too, so it’s got a charm that a lot of his other pieces don’t. Maybe he could work it into the next play somehow. And since it’s hand embroidery, Sakyo won’t badger him about the expenses, so—

He blinks a couple of times to pull himself away from his thoughts. “Yes,” he drawls, “I like dresses.” 

“Right, right,” Tenma says with a relieved exhale. His hand reaches up to twist a lock of hair around his finger, and Yuki wonders what it’s like, to be a movie star and yet have such an obvious nervous habit. “It’s just—well, you know, the rest of us, we don’t really—“

Yuki’s hands stop in their tracks. He’s been patiently working on the dress. “Tenma,” he threatens, narrowing his eyes, “if you’re going to be weird about me—“ 

“I’m not!” Tenma blurts out.

“Actually, I think—I mean, you look so good in them, and you like it, so—obviously you’d wear dresses. It’s just—why?”

“Why?” Yuki repeats, almost distracted by Tenma being weirdly flattering. He narrows his eyes. “Do I need a reason?” 

“You don’t!” Tenma says, and it’s kind of fun to see him shift around the entrance of their shared room like a stranger. But it’s also kind of like pulling teeth, which maybe is an apt descriptor for their relationship. “I just... um, wanted to know, I guess? You kind of can get... defensive about it,” he says with a wince, “but I don’t want to know why you do it, I just... it’s nice? To hear about why people like things, I think. And hearing people talk about things they like, that’s nice too,” Tenma says in a breathless rush. “I guess, recently I’ve been realizing that.” 

“It’s like you’ve never had friends before,” Yuki huffs, trying to hide his smile.

“Well—yeah, you already know that,” Tenma says, twisting another lock of hair around his finger. He swallows. “But I’m—you know. Learning.” 

This is horrible. Yuki has never seen Tenma look so eager, and it’s horrible how happy that makes him feel. He clears his throat. “You look like a weirdo standing there,” he says, and scoots over on his bed, pulling the dress on his lap. “Come on, sit.”

Tenma hesitantly sits down, and the bed springs creak a little at the extra weight before they grow accustomed to it. 

Yuki picks up the needle with the embroidery thread, and works on finishing the last petal of the sunflower. He can hear Tenma’s uncertain movement next to him, and can even picture his kind of unsure, maybe affronted expression, wondering if he’s been ignored and then wondering how to react to it. Yuki sighs. “I just think women’s fashion is more interesting,” Yuki says. “So that’s a why, I guess, if you wanted one. But I don’t know, I don’t really have an expla—“

“Oh, good,” Tenma cuts in, and Yuki whips around to stare at him. “Uh,” Tenma says, voice cracking. “Well, not good,” he corrects, and then corrects himself again, saying, “No! I mean, it is good. I just kind of expected that to be your reasoning. And that’s actually... kind of what I actually wanted to talk to you about...?” 

He feels almost fond, staring at Tenma beside him, and isn’t that a strange thought? That someone so insufferable, so arrogant, can still be so considerate, and not even in the basic-human-decency way, but real considerate, like careful-and-attentive considerate. “Took you forever to get to the point,” he says, because he deserves to be a little mean about it, “but what did you want to ask?”

“The Mankai Company is all dudes, right?” Tenma blurts out. “I mean, the actors, not Izumi, but… yeah,” he finishes lamely. 

Bewildered, Yuki nods. “...And?” 

“Okay, okay,” Tenma mutters, staring determinedly at the ground. “We—I know you played Scheherazade, but I know we don’t actually do that many female roles, as a whole. Do you ever—I mean, you make all our costumes. Do you ever wish we could do more female roles? Because that’s the kind of fashion you like, and—“

“Oh my god,” Yuki says. “You can shut up, now.”

Tenma freezes. “Did I overstep?”

“No, you didn’t, it’s just—” He can feel the laughter bubbling up in his chest. “You know, I make more than just stage costumes all the time,” he laughs, and then he can’t stop laughing. 

Tenma looks scandalized. Probably because Yuki’s laughing in his face. Oh well. He’ll have to deal with it. “And—and it’s not like I have a burning hatred for men’s fashion, like, suits are nice,” he stresses, unable to hide his smile. “I like all of the costumes I’ve made!” He shoves his in-progress dress in front of Tenma’s face. “Does this look like a costume to you?” he asks.

“Uh... no?”

“Exactly,” Yuki says. “I mean, I guess it would be cool to do some historical women’s fashion, or something, but I’m not—I’m not dying to do it. Unless,” he suggests, with a glint in his eyes, “you’re offering.” 

“Well, maybe I am!” Tenma shoots back. Yuki waits for Tenma to go back on what he’s said, as red-faced as he is, but he looks determined. He’s not even avoiding eye contact.  

Sunflowers, in some cases, Yuki thinks, suit Tenma well. They’re turned towards the sun, beaming with a smile that’s open and affectionate, and while Tenma is not… open, he can be brightly, unbelievably affectionate. That’s kind of how the whole Summer Troupe is, and it’s why Yuki likes them all so much. He’s definitely going to have to try embroidering sunflowers again, he decides. They really are quite nice. 

“Well, then,” Yuki says, “Thank you.” 

Tenma tsks, still annoyed, but he nods. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

“I haven’t laughed like that in a while,” Yuki adds. “You should make a fool of yourself more often.”

“Oh, that’s it, you’re on!” Tenma says, lunging towards him, but he’s also trying to avoid ruining his dress so he doesn’t actually do anything, and Yuki ends up laughing in his face again. 

It’s not a quiet day anymore, but it’s definitely a good one. 

Notes:

anyways i just love summer troupe being friends and i think yuki deserves the world!! this is set some time in act 2, i would think? so I hope it's in line with whatever goes on then. i just think that like after being roommates tenma and yuki would sort of. get into a rhythm about it i guess? mhm anyways i think this might be the first ever time i've posted fanfic for something i haven't actually gotten fully caught up on. a3 is just Like That i guess?

you can find me on tumblr @valderaa for my writing blog, and @aranarumei if you wanna talk a3! but please don't give me spoilers, haha