The sun was several minutes away from setting when Megumi stirred from beneath body warmed blankets. Waking up warm for the second time in a day was something truly to rejoice over. She sat up and looked around, fixing her gaze on Kenshin’s back.
“Hi,” she murmured as she rolled her shoulders, trying to work out stiff (new) muscles. She was very new to this business of waking up with someone and wasn’t entirely sure if small talk was a prerequisite.
Kenshin was making rice balls. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of the sound it had made when she hesitantly crossed the threshold of the storage unit. (Was that only last night?) she wondered as she watched his hands (they were pretty hands, too pretty almost for a man to possess) shape and squeeze rice into perfect little round masses. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Shifting in the makeshift bed, Megumi set the blanket aside, grimacing when she realized some of the blood on her skin (or hair) had come off, leaving flakes of dried copper on the bedding. She would have to wash the blanket before she slept in it again.
“How are you feeling?” she hazarded as she pulled her t-shirt into a position where the hole didn’t expose more than a pale expanse of her sternum, tucked her hair behind her ears and stood up, not wanting to sit like a lump on a log (or a twitterbrained bird in a nest) while her friend prepared food. This food was also important; the carbohydrates would replenish lost body reserves of fuel, further facilitating final healing.
“Um, is there something that I can help with?” she padded over to where he was crouching and leaned over a little, watching him shape rice balls with a surprising degree of efficiency.
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“Hi,” she murmured as she rolled her shoulders, trying to work out stiff (new) muscles. She was very new to this business of waking up with someone and wasn’t entirely sure if small talk was a prerequisite.
Kenshin was making rice balls. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of the sound it had made when she hesitantly crossed the threshold of the storage unit. (Was that only last night?) she wondered as she watched his hands (they were pretty hands, too pretty almost for a man to possess) shape and squeeze rice into perfect little round masses. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Shifting in the makeshift bed, Megumi set the blanket aside, grimacing when she realized some of the blood on her skin (or hair) had come off, leaving flakes of dried copper on the bedding. She would have to wash the blanket before she slept in it again.
“How are you feeling?” she hazarded as she pulled her t-shirt into a position where the hole didn’t expose more than a pale expanse of her sternum, tucked her hair behind her ears and stood up, not wanting to sit like a lump on a log (or a twitterbrained bird in a nest) while her friend prepared food. This food was also important; the carbohydrates would replenish lost body reserves of fuel, further facilitating final healing.
“Um, is there something that I can help with?” she padded over to where he was crouching and leaned over a little, watching him shape rice balls with a surprising degree of efficiency.