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seikilosTitle: Summer Research
Fandoms:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
luceti, Tales of Legendia, Tales of Phantasia, Tales of Symphonia, The World Ends With You
Genre: Fluff
Rating: PG
Words: 1758
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the above fandoms.
Summary: What is a bikini? Dhaos just doesn't know.
Author's Notes: Definitely one of the sillier things I've written. What is it about this pairing that brings that side of my writing out, anyway?
This fic is super-old, and I wrote it after a particularly sad fic as a way of clearing my brain. It isn't remotely meant to be taken seriously.
Though, doing so anyway, I find it kind of interesting. On one level, Dhaos' attempts to decide for Grune what her clothing should be definitely fall under that whole controlling thing that Grune raked him over hot coals for when she had her memories back. On the other hand...it's Grune. She needs the help.
...Also, I read a few threads of Shiki's when I first came up with this, but how do I wrote TWEWY character. Hopefully she's not too bad....
...Try to enjoy this? (The outfits they're wearing, by the way, are here and, loosely, here.What is drawing.)
"Dhaos!"
Far more often than not, hearing his name being called would immediately set Dhaos on his guard. There was a particular way it was uttered, a particular sound that would alert him to peril. On Aselia, it had been the sound of a voice twisted by hatred—there it would tell him it was time to defend himself from a human with a weapon in hand.
Here . . . it was the sound of the woman he loved being excited about something. In Luceti, he was in constant danger not of blood and violence, but of picnics.
"Yes, Grune?" he asked as she caught up with him just outside Community Building 3.
Not content to merely join him at his side, Grune threw her arms around him. Fortunately, he couldn't sense anyone in the area, and so he somewhat awkwardly returned her embrace (and attempted to forget how many windows of the building behind them faced their current position).
She snuggled up close for a moment before pulling back enough to beam up at him. "There's going to be a party on the beach soon! Would you like to come?"
. . . Somehow, Grune had failed to notice the way he almost universally avoided large gatherings—or if she had noticed, she had forgotten. Knowing her as he did, he could believe either possibility.
". . . I would rather not."
"Why not?" She gave him an honestly confused look. "Going to the beach is a lot of fun—especially with all kinds of friends!"
He fought the increasing need to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me, but I do not see the appeal."
The beach was a location like any other, as far as he was concerned, with the addition of sand and water. Neither particularly spoke to him.
"Oh, there are lots of things you can do there," she assured him. "You can play in the sand and play beach games and go swimming—"
He cut her off. "Swimming?"
He did not like the sound of this. Exactly how much would Grune consider to be appropriate to wear while swimming in the presence of others? . . . Given her usual choice of attire, the potential answer to that question was not promising.
Despite the inevitable distress it would cause, he asked her, "What . . . do you plan to wear while swimming?"
Grune's response was as cheerful as it was unenlightening. "Oh, I'm going to wear my bikini!"
". . . Bikini?" What in the gods' names. . . ?
"Yes, that's right."
". . . What is a bikini?"
"Oh, it's a swimsuit," Grune answered, and really, he should have known better.
He tried again. "What does it look like?"
"It's green and orange and it has flowers on it," was her chipper, predictably unhelpful explanation.
Dhaos gave up. "I see."
Before she had the time to recall the original purpose of their conversation, he let go of her, stepped back, and took her hand instead. "Would you like to go for a walk?"
He felt mildly guilty, watching her smile brighten so quickly at the distraction—but only mildly so.
"Oh, yes, that would be very nice." She leaned up and kissed his cheek; Dhaos willed himself not to blush and hoped all the harder no one was watching.
In case they were, he started walking into the forest. A moment later, though, he gave Grune's hand a gentle squeeze. . . . It would hardly do for Grune to think she was unloved.
*
Once they had returned from their walk, however, Dhaos had a problem on his hands: specifically, that he needed to discover whether a bikini was suitable attire for one so innocent as Grune.
It was the continuation of a problem that had caused him no end of stress. Grune was both singularly beautiful and singularly unaware of the effect she had on most people. She was also perhaps the friendliest person in Luceti. Dhaos had seen some of the looks Grune could attract, and he did not like them one bit—out of his concern for Grune's safety, of course.
If a bikini would cause an increase in these disrespectful kinds of looks, then Dhaos would simply have to insist she wear something else. It was the natural protective measure to take. Any significant other would do the same if the one they loved were (somehow) as innocent as Grune.
But how to ascertain if a bikini was cause for alarm? This was a significant problem. His first instinct had been to simply ask Fenimore or Norma. However, both girls had grown so accustomed to him that they frequently would tease him over minor matters—and they particularly enjoying teasing him about his relationship with Grune. Asking them for details about Grune's taste in swimwear was entirely out of the question.
So, too, was asking Yuan. Dhaos could only imagine the amount of enjoyment his friend would derive from the situation, and he had no intention of seeing that smirk directed his way.
It seemed, then, as awkward and unpleasant as it would be, that Dhaos had some research to do.
*
Dhaos had only been in All Passions a very small handful of times prior to now. He was hardly concerned with his appearance; the generic clothing store sufficed. However, there was no one there who could offer the information he needed, and so he had come to the lone clothing shop run by a resident of Luceti.
Within moments of his entry, a human child approached him with a bright smile. "Can I help you?"
. . . This was incredibly difficult. He looked away, then forced his gaze back down to her. "I need to know about—bikinis."
Without a moment's hesitation, the girl looked him up and down (but mostly up). "Nope. It wouldn't suit. For someone your height, I'd recommend a one-piece."
The very second the girl's words sunk in, Dhaos' face went crimson hot. He covered his mouth and actually stammered, "N-Not for me. I wish to know what they are."
The girl's mischievous expression as she replied did not give him any more reason to love humans. "Oh, of course. Just give me a minute."
She walked straight to a section of the shop that seemed to be suffering from a severe shortage of fabric. Disliking this very much, he followed.
"These are just a few different designs, but they're hopefully enough to give you an idea," the girl said and gestured at a few clothes hangers.
He looked at them, then glanced about. ". . . Where is the rest?"
"Sorry?" She tilted her head slightly.
". . . Of the outfit."
"Oh. That's it!" she answered cheerfully.
. . . "Horrified" did not begin to describe his emotional state. He stared at the minuscule swimsuits and, entirely against his will, an image of Grune in one of those—indecencies slipped into his mind. He instantly swept it aside, only for it to be replaced by an image of the other Grune—intelligent and strong and entirely confident in her body. . . .
He shoved that thought hard, his face burning, and demanded, "Is there anything else she can wear?"
"'She'?" the girl questioned and Dhaos could have punched himself.
". . . Grune. She should not be wearing—that." He couldn't even look at the bikinis. "She would not understand its implications."
The girl snapped her fingers. "Dhaos, right? Sorry, but I don't think you're going to change her mind. I made that bikini specially for her. She loves it."
Dhaos glared down at her, a silent demand of "Why would you do that?" in his furious expression.
She only shrugged. "Lots of people will be wearing them. She'll hardly be the only one."
But she would be the only one both beautiful enough and innocent enough to attract entirely the wrong type of attention.
. . .It seemed he was left with no other choice.
". . . What does the men's swimwear look like?"
*
Grune was, thankfully, the one to answer the door the day of the beach party. He would have considered her look of delight upon taking in his attire to be awkward, were it not that she immediately followed it with a far more awkward (for him) hug.
. . . Gods above, where did he put his hands? There was not one safe place to touch Grune, dressed as she was, and to have her pressed against him when they were both in this state of undress. . . .
If he had thought he had blushed before now, clearly he was mistaken. As his hovering hands alighted on Grune's warm, bare shoulders and he eased her back, he was fervently glad he had stood his ground and had buttoned the shirt the girl at All Passions had given him. As slight of a barrier as it was, it at least provided a second layer between their chests instead of only one.
"Dhaos?"
. . . He could barely look at her. "Yes, Grune?"
"Don't you like my bikini?"
From many women, it would be a tease for their lover. From Grune, it was an honest question.
He steeled himself, then took a longer look. Gods above.
"It's . . . very nice." Those attending the party would be falling at her feet left and right.
The image of the other Grune dressed in that same outfit came to him once again, and he very nearly pressed a hand to his face. If he did not take care, he would shame himself utterly.
He felt Grune's hand slip into his and he looked down to her smile.
"Thank you, Dhaos. You look very nice, too! I'm glad you could come." She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his mouth—and oddly, Dhaos relaxed. He was even able to smile at her.
"Do not mention it. We should leave now, so we are not late."
"All right." Grune beamed. "This is going to be so much fun!"
He did not reply to that, but only began to walk. He was well aware his afternoon was going to consist of tiring his facial muscles glaring at dishonourable humans and being dragged into pointless activities, but he had made his peace with that when he had dressed in that ridiculous outfit earlier in the day. His presence would keep Grune safe and bring her happiness, and that, he knew, was entirely worth any indignities he could possibly suffer.
Fandoms:
luceti, Tales of Legendia, Tales of Phantasia, Tales of Symphonia, The World Ends With YouGenre: Fluff
Rating: PG
Words: 1758
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the above fandoms.
Summary: What is a bikini? Dhaos just doesn't know.
Author's Notes: Definitely one of the sillier things I've written. What is it about this pairing that brings that side of my writing out, anyway?
This fic is super-old, and I wrote it after a particularly sad fic as a way of clearing my brain. It isn't remotely meant to be taken seriously.
Though, doing so anyway, I find it kind of interesting. On one level, Dhaos' attempts to decide for Grune what her clothing should be definitely fall under that whole controlling thing that Grune raked him over hot coals for when she had her memories back. On the other hand...it's Grune. She needs the help.
...Also, I read a few threads of Shiki's when I first came up with this, but how do I wrote TWEWY character. Hopefully she's not too bad....
...Try to enjoy this? (The outfits they're wearing, by the way, are here and, loosely, here.
"Dhaos!"
Far more often than not, hearing his name being called would immediately set Dhaos on his guard. There was a particular way it was uttered, a particular sound that would alert him to peril. On Aselia, it had been the sound of a voice twisted by hatred—there it would tell him it was time to defend himself from a human with a weapon in hand.
Here . . . it was the sound of the woman he loved being excited about something. In Luceti, he was in constant danger not of blood and violence, but of picnics.
"Yes, Grune?" he asked as she caught up with him just outside Community Building 3.
Not content to merely join him at his side, Grune threw her arms around him. Fortunately, he couldn't sense anyone in the area, and so he somewhat awkwardly returned her embrace (and attempted to forget how many windows of the building behind them faced their current position).
She snuggled up close for a moment before pulling back enough to beam up at him. "There's going to be a party on the beach soon! Would you like to come?"
. . . Somehow, Grune had failed to notice the way he almost universally avoided large gatherings—or if she had noticed, she had forgotten. Knowing her as he did, he could believe either possibility.
". . . I would rather not."
"Why not?" She gave him an honestly confused look. "Going to the beach is a lot of fun—especially with all kinds of friends!"
He fought the increasing need to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me, but I do not see the appeal."
The beach was a location like any other, as far as he was concerned, with the addition of sand and water. Neither particularly spoke to him.
"Oh, there are lots of things you can do there," she assured him. "You can play in the sand and play beach games and go swimming—"
He cut her off. "Swimming?"
He did not like the sound of this. Exactly how much would Grune consider to be appropriate to wear while swimming in the presence of others? . . . Given her usual choice of attire, the potential answer to that question was not promising.
Despite the inevitable distress it would cause, he asked her, "What . . . do you plan to wear while swimming?"
Grune's response was as cheerful as it was unenlightening. "Oh, I'm going to wear my bikini!"
". . . Bikini?" What in the gods' names. . . ?
"Yes, that's right."
". . . What is a bikini?"
"Oh, it's a swimsuit," Grune answered, and really, he should have known better.
He tried again. "What does it look like?"
"It's green and orange and it has flowers on it," was her chipper, predictably unhelpful explanation.
Dhaos gave up. "I see."
Before she had the time to recall the original purpose of their conversation, he let go of her, stepped back, and took her hand instead. "Would you like to go for a walk?"
He felt mildly guilty, watching her smile brighten so quickly at the distraction—but only mildly so.
"Oh, yes, that would be very nice." She leaned up and kissed his cheek; Dhaos willed himself not to blush and hoped all the harder no one was watching.
In case they were, he started walking into the forest. A moment later, though, he gave Grune's hand a gentle squeeze. . . . It would hardly do for Grune to think she was unloved.
Once they had returned from their walk, however, Dhaos had a problem on his hands: specifically, that he needed to discover whether a bikini was suitable attire for one so innocent as Grune.
It was the continuation of a problem that had caused him no end of stress. Grune was both singularly beautiful and singularly unaware of the effect she had on most people. She was also perhaps the friendliest person in Luceti. Dhaos had seen some of the looks Grune could attract, and he did not like them one bit—out of his concern for Grune's safety, of course.
If a bikini would cause an increase in these disrespectful kinds of looks, then Dhaos would simply have to insist she wear something else. It was the natural protective measure to take. Any significant other would do the same if the one they loved were (somehow) as innocent as Grune.
But how to ascertain if a bikini was cause for alarm? This was a significant problem. His first instinct had been to simply ask Fenimore or Norma. However, both girls had grown so accustomed to him that they frequently would tease him over minor matters—and they particularly enjoying teasing him about his relationship with Grune. Asking them for details about Grune's taste in swimwear was entirely out of the question.
So, too, was asking Yuan. Dhaos could only imagine the amount of enjoyment his friend would derive from the situation, and he had no intention of seeing that smirk directed his way.
It seemed, then, as awkward and unpleasant as it would be, that Dhaos had some research to do.
Dhaos had only been in All Passions a very small handful of times prior to now. He was hardly concerned with his appearance; the generic clothing store sufficed. However, there was no one there who could offer the information he needed, and so he had come to the lone clothing shop run by a resident of Luceti.
Within moments of his entry, a human child approached him with a bright smile. "Can I help you?"
. . . This was incredibly difficult. He looked away, then forced his gaze back down to her. "I need to know about—bikinis."
Without a moment's hesitation, the girl looked him up and down (but mostly up). "Nope. It wouldn't suit. For someone your height, I'd recommend a one-piece."
The very second the girl's words sunk in, Dhaos' face went crimson hot. He covered his mouth and actually stammered, "N-Not for me. I wish to know what they are."
The girl's mischievous expression as she replied did not give him any more reason to love humans. "Oh, of course. Just give me a minute."
She walked straight to a section of the shop that seemed to be suffering from a severe shortage of fabric. Disliking this very much, he followed.
"These are just a few different designs, but they're hopefully enough to give you an idea," the girl said and gestured at a few clothes hangers.
He looked at them, then glanced about. ". . . Where is the rest?"
"Sorry?" She tilted her head slightly.
". . . Of the outfit."
"Oh. That's it!" she answered cheerfully.
. . . "Horrified" did not begin to describe his emotional state. He stared at the minuscule swimsuits and, entirely against his will, an image of Grune in one of those—indecencies slipped into his mind. He instantly swept it aside, only for it to be replaced by an image of the other Grune—intelligent and strong and entirely confident in her body. . . .
He shoved that thought hard, his face burning, and demanded, "Is there anything else she can wear?"
"'She'?" the girl questioned and Dhaos could have punched himself.
". . . Grune. She should not be wearing—that." He couldn't even look at the bikinis. "She would not understand its implications."
The girl snapped her fingers. "Dhaos, right? Sorry, but I don't think you're going to change her mind. I made that bikini specially for her. She loves it."
Dhaos glared down at her, a silent demand of "Why would you do that?" in his furious expression.
She only shrugged. "Lots of people will be wearing them. She'll hardly be the only one."
But she would be the only one both beautiful enough and innocent enough to attract entirely the wrong type of attention.
. . .It seemed he was left with no other choice.
". . . What does the men's swimwear look like?"
Grune was, thankfully, the one to answer the door the day of the beach party. He would have considered her look of delight upon taking in his attire to be awkward, were it not that she immediately followed it with a far more awkward (for him) hug.
. . . Gods above, where did he put his hands? There was not one safe place to touch Grune, dressed as she was, and to have her pressed against him when they were both in this state of undress. . . .
If he had thought he had blushed before now, clearly he was mistaken. As his hovering hands alighted on Grune's warm, bare shoulders and he eased her back, he was fervently glad he had stood his ground and had buttoned the shirt the girl at All Passions had given him. As slight of a barrier as it was, it at least provided a second layer between their chests instead of only one.
"Dhaos?"
. . . He could barely look at her. "Yes, Grune?"
"Don't you like my bikini?"
From many women, it would be a tease for their lover. From Grune, it was an honest question.
He steeled himself, then took a longer look. Gods above.
"It's . . . very nice." Those attending the party would be falling at her feet left and right.
The image of the other Grune dressed in that same outfit came to him once again, and he very nearly pressed a hand to his face. If he did not take care, he would shame himself utterly.
He felt Grune's hand slip into his and he looked down to her smile.
"Thank you, Dhaos. You look very nice, too! I'm glad you could come." She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his mouth—and oddly, Dhaos relaxed. He was even able to smile at her.
"Do not mention it. We should leave now, so we are not late."
"All right." Grune beamed. "This is going to be so much fun!"
He did not reply to that, but only began to walk. He was well aware his afternoon was going to consist of tiring his facial muscles glaring at dishonourable humans and being dragged into pointless activities, but he had made his peace with that when he had dressed in that ridiculous outfit earlier in the day. His presence would keep Grune safe and bring her happiness, and that, he knew, was entirely worth any indignities he could possibly suffer.
