Categories > Anime/Manga > Ouran High School Host Club
Laying in a pool of sunshine, in the garden behind the kendo dojo, Mori brushed his fingers over Honey's velvet-soft hair knowing they would not be interrupted. It was well known as the third-year's waiting-for-Takashi spot, and no one wanted to be the one to wake up Honey - except for Mori.
The fact that Honey had immidiately fallen back asleep on top of Mori's chest, pulling him down to cushion the wooden bench underneath them, did not purturb the stoic teenager. He was tempted by the sweet-smelling flowers, warm sun, and the feeling of Honey's rhythmic breathing to fall asleep himself, but it was his job to keep an eye on the heir. And so, he just kept stroking that soft hair, waiting for the golden eyes to open once again.
He didn't mind the passive relationship he was fated to uphold: it was the opposite. He had learnt the history of their two families back hundreds and thousands of years early on, and he couldn't help but admire the stewards that had long since lived and died for their rulers. He almost wished he could do such a thing for his.
"Taka~ashi?"
His name, punctuated by a yawn, lifted the barest hints of a smile from Mori's lips as his fingers stilled in their detangling of the hair under them.
"Good afternoon, Mitsukuni," he rumbled, shifting against the bench where he had gone numb. They were definitely late for the Host Club by now, but they could risk the King's wrath later. "How was your nap?"
Honey's affectionnate hug made him feel like a living, breathing, moving teddy bear. "It was good, good!"
They eventually made it up from the bench with some wrangling and promises of sweets, although secretly the larger of the two wouldn't have minded resting for a little while longer together. The laughter that flowed from invisible lips as a weight settled on his shoulders made him smile. If he jogged they would get there in time for the last round of tea, albeit a bit sweaty.
Honey's enthusiasm for life was something that Mori loved dearly, even if he didn't say it.
The fact that Honey had immidiately fallen back asleep on top of Mori's chest, pulling him down to cushion the wooden bench underneath them, did not purturb the stoic teenager. He was tempted by the sweet-smelling flowers, warm sun, and the feeling of Honey's rhythmic breathing to fall asleep himself, but it was his job to keep an eye on the heir. And so, he just kept stroking that soft hair, waiting for the golden eyes to open once again.
He didn't mind the passive relationship he was fated to uphold: it was the opposite. He had learnt the history of their two families back hundreds and thousands of years early on, and he couldn't help but admire the stewards that had long since lived and died for their rulers. He almost wished he could do such a thing for his.
"Taka~ashi?"
His name, punctuated by a yawn, lifted the barest hints of a smile from Mori's lips as his fingers stilled in their detangling of the hair under them.
"Good afternoon, Mitsukuni," he rumbled, shifting against the bench where he had gone numb. They were definitely late for the Host Club by now, but they could risk the King's wrath later. "How was your nap?"
Honey's affectionnate hug made him feel like a living, breathing, moving teddy bear. "It was good, good!"
They eventually made it up from the bench with some wrangling and promises of sweets, although secretly the larger of the two wouldn't have minded resting for a little while longer together. The laughter that flowed from invisible lips as a weight settled on his shoulders made him smile. If he jogged they would get there in time for the last round of tea, albeit a bit sweaty.
Honey's enthusiasm for life was something that Mori loved dearly, even if he didn't say it.
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