#lotta stuff about giving sweat to your lover out there...

[kirayaykimura]

Tiding Over

I don't think you need to read in every lifetime, but this is set in the same, vague universe. Quick primer in case it's not clear in the fic itself: Shirayuki and Obi remember past lives.

Back before it was a cliche, Obi had once made Shirayuki an offer: if they were both still single by the time she was 30, he would marry her. She’d died at 29. Obi had never offered again. 

This wasn’t to say that he stopped trying. There was the time he’d brought her a box of sweets tied with a red ribbon - a local custom that signified an intent to court. Just to make her life easier, he’d promised. He’d known about her thing with Zen and had completely respected it. The courting gesture was there to keep everyone away. If they thought he was serious about marrying her, the other nosy townsfolk might stop setting her up with their sons and nephews. If there was a mild, tiny sliver of hope that she might some day settle for him, no one could prove it. She’d told him to not bother with that sort of thing again; she could handle the matchmaking herself. He should save his coins for girls he actually liked. 

With the distressing privilege of hindsight, he realizes there is something of a pattern here. He tentatively offers up the in vogue gesture of romantic interest for the era - a carved wooden spoon, sticky rice around two red chopsticks, camping (because the Puritans loved being miserable) - and watches as she gently dismisses them. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

The only thing stopping him from bringing it up to apologize and making them both face this thing he’s had for her for centuries is the fact that he’s fairly certain she has never realized the offerings for what they are. That’s not the type of person she is. She’s direct and kind; she wouldn’t leave him dangling because it’s easier than rejecting him outright, nor would she play dumb.

This theory is all but confirmed when he walks in on her being hit on by some frat bro. He misses what the boy originally asks, but he hears Shirayuki say, “Sure, I’ll see if anyone else is free,” as he slips into the lab she’s practically lived in all semester. Apparently he isn’t the only one attempting to lure her away from work. 

Her back is turned to Obi and the boy next to her is completely focused on her, so neither of them notice they’re no longer alone. Which means Obi has the distinct pleasure of hearing the boy say, “I thought it could just be us,” and hearing Shirayuki reply, “Why?” 

The boy must have caught some movement out of the corner of his eye because, instead of answering, he turned to face Obi. 

“Hey,” Obi says with a jaunty wave. “Who’s your new friend, Miss?” 

Shirayuki whips around like she’s excited to see him, notebook forgotten on the work station, and he knows for a fact now that it will never get old watching her look happy to see him. She calls out his name in greeting, and he thinks about how no one has ever said his name quite so well because he’s allowed to be pathetic in his own mind. 

The frat bro says, “Oh,” and then leaves with barely a goodbye. 

“Okay,” Shirayuki says, visibly confused by the abrupt turn of events. “Are we still on for Friday?” 

The boy walks faster. 

“Friday?” Obi asks once he’s gone. 

“He said he wanted to get dinner, but he just left while we were making plans.” 

Obi stifles a laugh and says, “A dinner he wanted to do alone while you wanted to make a group thing?” 

Despite the emphasis on the word alone, it still takes her a moment to connect the dots. Once she does, her eyes widen slightly before the confusion settles back in. Again, she asks, “Why?” 

“Yes, why would a boy not have a crush on a beautiful young woman?” 

“I’m not young.” 

“And yet, you don’t look a day over 900.” 

She gives him a stern look that is rendered essentially useless by the way the corners of her lips tick upward. Instead of giving her a chance to fight him on how at least a third of the school’s population is deeply in love with her at the moment, he tosses her an apple that she just barely manages to catch. 

“Come on,” he says. “I’m dragging you away for Yuzuri’s art show.” 

“She asked us not to come to that.” 

“Which is exactly why we’re going.” 

She holds out for about three seconds before she says, “If you’re sure she won’t mind.” 

“She’ll love it. Now, come on. If we hurry, we can grab something to eat before we go.” 

Shirayuki glances down at the apple she did not ask for and holds it out to him. 

“That’s all yours. To tide you over. You didn’t eat lunch, right?” 

Shirayuki’s stomach growls in answer. 

“Thanks,” she says before taking a bite. 

This time, he doesn’t doubt her obliviousness to his courting gesture. The apple is wildly outdated, was popular on a completely different continent, and his presentation is slightly different than tradition dictates, but that’s okay. She doesn’t have to get it. If she doesn’t realize what he’s doing, he can keep using the gestures as a sort of pressure release for himself. He gets to love her quietly. And that’s enough.

#obiyukiweek23 #day 5: wooing #snow white with the red hair #my fic #it's pretty short but i put it under a read more so that people don't have to scroll past it with extra effort #i wanted to do something with unique courting gestures around the world #unfortunately EVERY article i found mentioned the apple thing #the custom was to take an apple slice or a peeled apple #tuck it in your armpit #and give it to your love #if they ate it you were golden #this was the 19th century so you can imagine the deodorant situation they were working with (they weren't) #lotta stuff about giving sweat to your lover out there... #anyway i made obi not do that lol #personal