Work Text:
Lumine is in bed right after dinner today, curled up in the blankets in the near dark when Scaramouche peeks in. The only light consists of a string of fairy lights hung on the wall, ones she’d been adamant on decorating their bedroom with. And there’s her too, he supposes, but that’s different.
“Sleeping already?” he asks from the doorway.
“Mm,” is the only reply he gets from the lump in the bedsheets.
He frowns, looking at her. Then making a decision, closes the door and slips into the empty space she's left him by her side, scooting closer to her side and looping an arm around her midsection. Her shirt is slightly lifted so he feels just a sliver of her stomach. Then, just because he can, he lifts the cloth further so he can press his hand fully against her skin, feel the warmth.
When Lumine laughs softly, he feels that too. She turns so she's facing him instead of the ceiling, amusement playing on her lips. "Did you miss me?"
He clicks his tongue. "As if." He’s used to it at this point, her going to work nearly every day.
Lumine smiles wider despite his words, knowing him well enough to catch him in his lie. She cards through his hair with one hand, pushing it away from his face and his eyes instinctively close as she does so. Then, leans forward to press her lips to his. It’s languid, the drag of their mouths together, because there’s no reason to hurry. Her breath is warm too, when she exhales against him.
When they part, Lumine nestles herself into the crook of his neck, chest rising and falling softly against his own. Scaramouche buries his nose into the top of her head, where her hair smells like flowers. Presses a kiss there too, because he can.
He isn’t surprised when her breathing starts to slow as she begins to drift off—she’s always tired after work. He’s not quite ready to sleep yet, plus he still has yet to clean up the dinner table, but he’s content with staying alongside her for now.
“Good night,” she says sleepily, adjusting herself just a little to a more comfortable position, slinging an arm over him.
“Mm, good night,” he says, watching the soft twinkle of the lights around him.
It's quiet, almost undetectable under the thick fog of her fatigue that has her mumbling rather than anything. But he's almost certain he hears her say, "I love you."
—:—
Lumine is rushing this morning, still fumbling with the buttons on her clothing when she stumbles into the kitchen. Her hair is messily put up, and her lipstick gets smudged when she shoves the breakfast he made into her mouth. “Ah, I’m gonna be late,” she says to herself more than him, muffled because her mouth is still full of food.
Scaramouche gives her an unimpressed look which she doesn’t catch. Even children are taught not to talk with their mouths full. “You look like a mess.”
“Okay well I don’t have time to fix it,” she says, a little annoyed.
“At this rate as soon as you walk in you’ll be fired.”
“Very helpful,” Lumine says dryly. She grabs the containers of food on the counter to shove them into her bag.
He sighs, shaking his head as he observes her. Then steps in front of her. “You can spare two minutes.” He wipes the lipstick smudges away with his thumb then smooths the disheveled hair atop her head. Surprisingly, she doesn’t protest, just stands there allowing him to do whatever he wants. Her hair is soft against his fingers. When he glances at her face, her eyes are big with light shining like stars within them, and she’s looking up at him almost curiously, a piece of bread in her hand as she takes a bite, cheeks moving as she chews. Like this, she’s almost…
“Turn around,” he commands instead, feeling his cheeks grow warm. When she complies, he gathers her hair together and ties it up in a better rendition of what she’d done poorly in a hurry before.
“Thanks,” she says once he’s done, going back to gathering up all her belongings, getting ready to head out.
“Whatever,” he grunts.
She’s at the doorway when she says goodbye, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later, okay? Love you.” And then she leaves, off to work.
Scaramouche is left reeling, fingers gripping the door with far more force than necessary. He stays in the same position for longer than necessary as well, taking time to process that.
When he finally comes back inside, the bag containing her lunch sits at the edge of the counter. What an idiot, he thinks, shaking his head. She can’t even look after her own lunch properly, the lunch that he took the time to make for her. The only option left is to drop it off for her, which Scaramouche guesses he can do. Not like he wants to or anything.
First, he does a quick check to make sure everything’s in there, and then he grabs a pad of sticky notes as well as a pen to write her some kind of message. It takes him several seconds longer than he’d like to admit, trying to think of what to put down. Probably something short, and chastising her for giving him extra work. But not too much of that, just the right amount. And would a heart be cheesy? Maybe if he put a chiding message along with one, they’d cancel each other out.
He ends up going through multiple sticky notes before settling on:
Don’t forget your lunch next time.
- Scara
Staring at it for a moment, he adds a little heart next to his name before he can think too hard about it, and shoves it with the food containers.
When he reaches her office, he calls her, telling her to come outside. She’s surprised, but does what he says, meeting him at the door. He thrusts the bag towards her, saying, “You gave me extra work.”
“Aw, thank you Scara,” she says, taking it from his hand, their fingers brushing. “I appreciate it, really.”
He swallows, looking away. “Don’t expect me to do this again. Because I won't.”
Lumine smiles. “If you say so.”
—:—
Scaramouche knows Lumine is the one mostly responsible for the way their relationship is, the way it somehow works. He’s fully aware that he’s not able to maintain this sort of thing by himself, and it’s shocking to him that they’ve ended up here at all in the first place.
Honestly, many days he wonders why she even bothers with him. Afraid that one day she’ll figure out that he’s not worth her time and spend it on other people instead. It’s an idea he despises more than anything.
They’re arguing; Scaramouche doesn’t even remember what it’s about, just that they’re mad at each other, which isn’t an extremely uncommon occurrence, nor is it unexpected. What is unexpected, however, is the way Lumine says, “I love you but—”
All the other words she says go in one ear and out the other. She’s speaking, saying more, but he doesn’t hear it. When she looks at him expectantly, seeking an answer, he has nothing to say. Doesn’t do anything other than just stand there.
“Okay,” he says finally, dumbly.
“Okay what?”
“You’re right.”
She seems genuinely taken aback at how undeceiving his words are, and doesn’t say anything for several seconds.
“That’s what you wanted isn’t it?” he asks. “For me to say you’re right?”
Her brows furrow. “I… I guess?” She’s not even upset anymore, it looks like. Just puzzled, and Scaramouche is not particularly interested in seeing her figure out why he’s behaving the way he is.
“Then I guess we’re done talking.” He turns away from her, cursing his own idiotic self for being like this.
—:—
They don’t quite have an anniversary date, because there wasn’t one specific moment they began the relationship they are in now. It was more like something that slowly crept over both of them, until it was impossible to deny. What this means is that it’s difficult to determine a specific time to get each other gifts, or go out to eat, or anything like that in relation to their relationship.
Scaramouche personally likes to count it as the day they had their first kiss—not because that’s where it started, but because it was when he had hope for at least the idea that she liked him back, and it wasn’t entirely one sided. And so on the anniversary of that day, he hands her a hairpin of a flower, similar to the one she likes wearing, but still different.
“It was on sale,” he says to rationalize it before she can even respond, and internally seethes at how hard it is for him to just say the truth.
Lumine takes it delicately into her hands, turning it over and observing it. It’s a blue flower rather than her usual white one, a golden outline surrounding the petals and jewels encrusted in the center.
“It’s so pretty…” she marvels.
“Yeah, it—… yeah.”
“Is this for our anniversary?” she asks, looking at him.
“Something like that…” he says nonchalantly.
That places a smile on her face as she clips the hairpin into her hair, and then takes his hands into hers. “Thank you, Scara. Happy anniversary—sort of. I love you.”
She’s at it with those words again, and this time she’s looking right at him. The other few times were not like this, and he suddenly feels even more stuck than before.
He swallows thickly. “Yeah.”
—:—
Scaramouche is in front of the stovetop, cooking dinner when arms loop around his waist from behind. “Whatcha makin'?” Lumine asks, chin against his shoulder.
He’s grateful for the sounds of boiling soup in the pot in front of him, because they mask the sound of his stuttered inhale. “You’ll find out,” he says after a moment.
“But I’m impatientttt,” she whines, shaking him side to side. “You always say I’m impatient, don’t you?”
“That’s about something entirely different.”
“But it can apply now too.” She moves her head slightly to kiss his nape, sending a shiver down his back.
“You can… you can wait ten minutes.”
“Hm. Fine.” Then, her cheek rests against the back of his neck as she says, “I love you Scara, you know?”
Scaramouche practically freezes, yet his face feels impossibly hotter than before. It’s like he’s stuck his head inside the boiling pot of liquid in front of him. “Are you…” His face scrunches and he trails off.
“Am I what?”
“Never mind,” he says, not even sure what to say.
—:—
It’s nighttime on a weeknight again, and when Scaramouche checks on Lumine after he’s finished cleaning up, she’s a motionless lump in the blankets. His side of the bed is left empty for him to slip into, and he does just that, sliding behind her. Lumine shifts a little when he climbs in, but he’s not sure if it’s done in the midst of sleep, or if she’s just barely awake enough to do so.
“Lumine,” he murmurs softly by her shoulder, “are you awake?”
His only reply comes in the form of a light snore, and he can’t hold back his own huff of laughter at that. His hand comes up to push aside some stray hairs to tuck them behind her ear.
“Hey, are you really asleep?” he tries again, but nothing once more. He puts his arm around her waist, spooning her from behind, and lies there for a bit, feeling her stomach expand and contract with each breath, and the steady rhythm of heartbeat through her back.
She really is out cold, tired after a long day of work. He leans up just a bit to kiss her cheek, then the back of her neck where his nose was. His own breaths tickle the tiny blonde hairs there.
His eyes are fully open even in the dark room, flicking around even though there isn’t anything to see. Lumine is asleep, and it’s just those fairy lights on again, dim enough today that they barely illuminate anything. It’s so quiet, other than the sounds of breathing.
And in this exact space, shared room of dark and quiet, Scaramouche murmurs, “I love you.”