There’s whipped cream on her nose and she’s not sure how it happened, but she breaks into delighted laughter. No, not laughter, a bray, really, loud and long and unappealing. She fires back the shot of whipped cream, and nearly loses her balance on the chair, her hair falling into her face in imperfect ripples.
A cake comes out with the candles lit and she joins in the singing, off-key and enthusiastic and boundless. The night is dimming now, and she can see the lights slowly turning on in their little colored boxes, strung above the patio. There’s a hand on her shoulder and a conspiratorial whisper in her ear, and she leans in, eyeing the cooler full of cold water and her wife, whispering her joyous assent to Mako, knowing this can only end with her tackled to the ground, covered in water and grass stains and mud, messy and askew and laid bare and imperfect in front of everyone. She smiles with her whole face, her eyes crinkling up and her grin wide.
“Michiru?” There’s a voice next to her. “What do you see?”
“Oh,” she smiles in her delicate, restrained way, “A fine bottle of wine, a warm fire, and Haruka. Of course.”
DOC YOU’RE A FUCKING GENIOUS THIS IS A TREASURE
What would Haruka and/or Michiru see in the Mirror of Erised?
Published
Rhio's Tunglr Stuff 