Ishida Mitsunari (石田 三成) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unbending) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paraboxical2012-02-25 08:19 am
unbending) wrote in paraboxical2012-02-25 08:19 am
Entry tags:
Suited up;
It was almost a funny thing, that out of all of the times Mitsunari found himself dressed sharply, it took a few months in his relationship before he ever say Ieyasu in a suit.
Mitsunari had thought nothing of it, to be sure. Ieyasu wore what he found to be comfortable, often in eye-searing colors like yellow, and that was just how his boyfriend was.
That was how it was.
And so every day Mitsunari would come home, step through the door, and loosen his tie before Ieyasu showed up in a hoodie and jeans to sweep him into a tight hug.
This was so easily normal that Mitsunari forgot that it could ever be otherwise.
Until the day it was otherwise.
It’d been an off-handed remark; Ieyasu had mentioned wanting to see his work and Mitsunari had paused, considered this and responded bluntly, “You cannot wear that to my work.”
Ieyasu had glanced down at his clothing, a sweater he’d been wearing all day and his typical jeans, and considered this. He generally looked just fine in whatever he pulled out for the morning—but he understood the sense of formality that Mitsunari carried towards his work.
Mitsunari had nodded, turning the page on his book that night, and Ieyasu smiled vaguely to himself and slid his arms around his waist.
The next day, Mitsunari got ready as normal, early in the morning and preparing quickly for work. He still hadn’t thought anything of their conversation the night before; in fact, he’d entirely forgotten it. And so, in a pristine suit and tie, appearance immaculate, Mitsunari went to work.
Around lunch, Yoshitsugu informed him that he had a visitor.
It was rare that there was someone there to just see Mitsunari, of all people, and so he blinked and nodded to meet them and—
Ieyasu wandered in, sharp suit black and form-fitting, his tie carefully added onto the picture (and he wasn’t wearing any yellow).
Mitsunari blinked. And blinked again. And couldn’t help but find himself staring.
Ieyasu tilted his head at that reaction…but it only took a few moments for a grin to settle into place, almost devious, as he stepped forward. They were the only ones in the office and Mitsunari was still rather startled—so Ieyasu managed to get away with leaning over his desk, drawing him into a hug, and murmuring into his ear, “For that reaction, I’ll dress up as often as you want.”
He laughed at the spluttering, awkward stammers that was Mitsunari’s attempt at a response and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Yes. Definitely worth it.
Mitsunari had thought nothing of it, to be sure. Ieyasu wore what he found to be comfortable, often in eye-searing colors like yellow, and that was just how his boyfriend was.
That was how it was.
And so every day Mitsunari would come home, step through the door, and loosen his tie before Ieyasu showed up in a hoodie and jeans to sweep him into a tight hug.
This was so easily normal that Mitsunari forgot that it could ever be otherwise.
Until the day it was otherwise.
It’d been an off-handed remark; Ieyasu had mentioned wanting to see his work and Mitsunari had paused, considered this and responded bluntly, “You cannot wear that to my work.”
Ieyasu had glanced down at his clothing, a sweater he’d been wearing all day and his typical jeans, and considered this. He generally looked just fine in whatever he pulled out for the morning—but he understood the sense of formality that Mitsunari carried towards his work.
Mitsunari had nodded, turning the page on his book that night, and Ieyasu smiled vaguely to himself and slid his arms around his waist.
The next day, Mitsunari got ready as normal, early in the morning and preparing quickly for work. He still hadn’t thought anything of their conversation the night before; in fact, he’d entirely forgotten it. And so, in a pristine suit and tie, appearance immaculate, Mitsunari went to work.
Around lunch, Yoshitsugu informed him that he had a visitor.
It was rare that there was someone there to just see Mitsunari, of all people, and so he blinked and nodded to meet them and—
Ieyasu wandered in, sharp suit black and form-fitting, his tie carefully added onto the picture (and he wasn’t wearing any yellow).
Mitsunari blinked. And blinked again. And couldn’t help but find himself staring.
Ieyasu tilted his head at that reaction…but it only took a few moments for a grin to settle into place, almost devious, as he stepped forward. They were the only ones in the office and Mitsunari was still rather startled—so Ieyasu managed to get away with leaning over his desk, drawing him into a hug, and murmuring into his ear, “For that reaction, I’ll dress up as often as you want.”
He laughed at the spluttering, awkward stammers that was Mitsunari’s attempt at a response and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Yes. Definitely worth it.