title:
fandom: Prince of Tennis
characters/pairings: Atobe/Yumiko
rating: G/Teen
warnings: light sexual implication
summary: conversations over years.
notes: well. this is 'experimental,' and we all know what that means. =p it could, technically, be almost any het couple... but... it's really atobe and yumiko. ^_^ and more people should love this pairing!

"I love you," he says, his arms around her waist.

"No, you don't," she says, with no tinge of bitterness to her voice, only knowledge.

"How do you know?" he pouts. "I could love you."

"You could, and maybe one day you will, but not today."

"I will love you, then."

"Fine."





"I need you," he says, breathless and anxious.

"I am not the air," she laughs, breezy, even under such circumstances.

"You are like the air to me," he breathes, his voice deep, sexy.

"You are confusing need and want," she murmurs, her composure flagging. "That can be a dangerous mistake."

"I want you," he clarifies, slightly annoyed. "Always."

"Always is a big word. Are you sure you know what it means?" she smiles, and runs her fingers up his bare skin.

"Why must you always, always doubt me?" he teases.

"Because you are so young," she complains. "And I remember being your age."

"Were you in love when you were my age?" he asks.

"I was. But then I wasn't," she shrugs.

"I'm not you," he reminds with a kiss.





"I want to marry you," he comments, his eyes off in the distance.

"Why?" she asks, after a moment's reflection.

"Because," he sighs, and that becomes reason enough.

"Are you asking me?" she wonders, a bit defensively.

"Am I?" he ponders. "That will depend on your answer."

"When did we get so self-protective?" she sighs, avoiding.

"When weren't we?" he counters, and it's because he can keep up that she replies again.

"Ask me."

"Marry me."

"That's how you're going to phrase it?" she laughs.

"Do you want me to get down on my knee?" he wonders, smiling.

"It would be nice," she suggests.

"Fine," and so he does, and he takes her hand. "Marry me."

"That's still not a question," she reminds, squeezing his hand.

"No, you're right, it's not," he agrees.

"Ah, well, in that case, what choice do I have?" she smiles, and she kisses his hand.





"You've been quiet," he comments, watching her bare back.

"I've been thinking," she replies, unmoving.

"About?" he prompts, a bit annoyed.

"Baby names," she sighs, unaffected.

"Really?" he says, after a pause, his heart pounding, his lungs airless.

"Yes," she lazily replies, kicking feet absently.

"For any particular reason?" he wonders, putting his mouth on her skin.

"Of course," she murmurs. "I wouldn't do so without cause."

"Because..." he prompts, sliding his hand under her belly.

"Yes," she replies quietly.

"Are you happy?" he asks, kissing her shoulder.

"I want to be. But I don't know how to tell you about it. And until I know how you feel..." she trails off.

"I'm happy," he replies, quietly, chuckling.

"Good," she smiles. "So am I."





"We don't talk anymore," she comments, offhandedly.

"Don't we?" he doesn't look up.

"Answer that yourself," she replies.

"Well. It happens, doesn't it?" he pauses, thinking.

"I don't want it to happen to us," she sulks.

"Do you need me, beloved?" he wonders, looking up.

"Don't you know?" she asks, looking away.

"I do now," he says, and he gets up to go to his wife.





"I love you," he says, and he puts his head down on her chest.

"Of course you do," she smiles, and runs her fingers through his perfect hair, messing it up.

"Do you love me?" he asks, grinning.

"Do you need to ask?" she wonders.

"I need to hear it."

"All right. I love you," she says, and she means it.

"Good," he says, and he closes his eyes.








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