[DDD | 059 | RL w/ Misato and Kaworu] Slice of Life

[redheadcarrier]

Asuka stretched, one arm held high over her head. It was the beginning of the day - time for a shower. She tugged the towel tied around her middle a bit higher and then reached up to pluck out her nerve clips. She set them aside. The apartment was quiet (it usually was in the morning) and she didn't think she'd be disturbed.

Today was going to be a good day. She felt pretty sure of that.

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[eschatologist.livejournal.com]

It was early, yet.

And though he did not know the time, he could mark it by way of shadows. The receding gray along the bedroom walls. (The fainter way, if he listened, he could hear the starting run of trains. The commuter rail. No cars. And sleepy voices. Burbling up. Floors and floors below. Floors and floors down - and birds. Softer and muffled. Perched up on telephone wires. Something he had rarely heard. Just rousing. Just active. Quiet.)

And though he did not know the time, he could mark it by way of the warmth left beside him. The way, if he shifted, he could still feel it. (Normally cool by the time he had woken. The shape of her absent by his own weight and movement. Something he'd noticed, in times he had stirred. Up and about. Toward noon.)

This morning had been different. (Something groggy. Pulled from sleep, unexpectedly. And part of him remembers knowing she had gone. Registering she had gone. Not fully awake, but awake enough. Not entirely aware, but aware enough. And even now, sleep still clings to his thoughts. Groggy and muddled. And even now, it is not for a longer moment that he is able to push himself up. Reluctant and uncomfortable. Knowing, later on, he might be able to rest. Again. Knowing, for the moment, this would likely be best. Remembering Asuka's scolding. The demand to amend his sleeping, as long as he did. Knowing her concern. Her -)

And it takes a longer moment, but he is pulling himself out of bed. (Though the warmth that remains seems to tempt.) Not bothering to fix the wrinkles that lay, stubborn, in his shirt. Not attempting to amend the wild manner of his hair. Merely opting (telling himself) to head toward the bathroom.

Tea would not be enough - to wash his face was the next option. A back-up. Another - and it isn't long before he reaches the bathroom door. As he realizes, belatedly, that the shower is going. (It does not take nearly as long to note the occupant. To confirm them. Katsuragi's door, still shut.)

Even so, he's alerting her with a faint, "good morning." The gentle rap of his knuckles on the door as he steps in.

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

"Morning," comes her reply. She's still slightly asleep herself. She tugs on her towel again, still bustling about the small bathroom as she prepares for the morning. She gives him a sleepy smile and then tests the water in the shower - still a bit too cold for her taste.

[eschatologist.livejournal.com]

Despite the sleepiness. The muddled, weighted thoughts. He can catch the notes of drowsiness. Can note the fact that she had just awoken. Had just stumbled into morning. Wandered into this tiny bathroom, herself. (And the smile is something he is mirroring. Unconscious and conscious. Ingrained and not. Automatic and honest. A kind of contradiction, too drowsy to sort itself out. Entirely.)

And the quiet that follows is gentler, than previous. And he finds himself settling into it. Finds himself relaxing into it. (A kind of relief, and his fingers are blindly reaching for the tap as he feels his way to the sink. Only to stumble on something else entirely. Stranger contours. Faintly warm. And he's registering what they must be, before he is looking. A10 clips. Something that Asuka has always worn. Knowing the previous significance. Knowing - )

He's running the pads of his fingers over the grooves. A little worn down. This shape, this is a familiarity. (Worn once or twice, himself. Never for long. His own had been darker. A deep sort of blue. And he's blinking once, as he's gently picking them up. Inspecting them. He had never had a need of them. Not truly. Able to pilot without them. Without a plugsuit. Merely - hers had been unique. A red against the white. Something suiting, he supposed, considering what she had piloted. Considering the - but, he's pushing it back. Quietly. Mind still catching up to the need for delving. Still stumbling along. No need to truly be awake, yet. After all.)

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

Asuka stretches again, blinking back sleep as the steam begins to roll into the small bathroom. She half-turns to look at Kaworu and then goes still, an amused smile crossing her face. The way he holds the nerve clips, the way he sets them against his own hair as he looks up at them-

It just makes her morning a bit brighter. She's reminded of how... well, adorable Kaworu can be when he's just exploring something new. She laughs, mumbling sleepily. "I don't think it's really your color."

[eschatologist.livejournal.com]

The contrast is harsh. (It always has been.) And it is something he marks with renewed attention. Something he realizes, as he's inspecting them. A little more closely. Only to have worn them once, he had forgotten (in some manners) the way that they settled. Though it comes back. Clearer. With some noted intensity. As it comes back. A little stronger. Something he has never entirely misplaced. (After all, it had taken some accustoming to. A long while back. Years and years and - he's pausing, at the faint sound of a laugh. Asuka's.)

And he knows he has been caught, but there is no note of tense embarrassment. Something he realizes would likely be common. Just a muted edge of something - unknown. A sort of - and it is sheepishness. Barely there, but notable. Something he identifies as he's lowering the clips. Just slightly. Quirking his lips up. A kind of softer smile. A murmured, chancing playful, "no?" though he knows the answer. He had been told before.

[redheadcarrier.livejournal.com]

"No," Asuka replies brusquely and then adds after a moment of reflection, "Although they do match your eyes..."

Well, it's something. She reaches up and adjusts them in his hair with her free hand and then steps back to give him a long, approving look. "Yeah. That'll work."