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Koutarou takes a sneaky sniff of Asako’s hair, grinning when he smells their company’s product. It’s a more earthy scent, not pumpkin, not yet, but something warmer for the fall season. He wonders if she’d like something pumpkin based as American as that sounds. Maybe something softer, not as sharp as pumpkin, he muses, turning the idea over in his head. Gold osmanthus would be good. A vibrant orange flower that blooms around September and October. Very autumnal. It has a scent like ripe apricots, soft suede, and creamy floral notes. It would suit Asako, he thinks.
He has no idea what’s playing on TV at this point. Asako seems to be paying attention, the show reflected in her glasses. They’re shoulder to shoulder on the couch, a light blanket draped over their shoulders. Koutarou’s family tea warming their hands, the light drone of the TV almost hypnotic. He sees a commercial start playing in the lens of her glasses and leans a little closer.
“What’s your favorite scent?” Koutarou asks, keeping his voice low, mindful of the peaceful atmosphere around them.
“Huh?” she asks, turning to look at him, glasses slid down her nose, hair loose and washed for the night. He beams, happy to see her so comfortable and pretty.
He crowds a little closer, snuggling into her side. “What’s your favorite scent? I know we’ve had a lot as a company but which one’s your favorite?”
She narrows her eyes, the image ruined by the sheer cuteness of her in her comfy pajamas tucked close to him. “Why?” she questions, already running through the mental calendar to see if he’s planning a gift.
“I want to know what you like.”
“You already know,” she grumbles, face warming up. “I like all of the scents that you make.” She mutters, turning to hide her face in his shoulder.
Koutarou chuckles, resting his head against hers.
“I know what my favorite one is,” he teases. Asako rolls her eyes, cheeks flushed, taking a sip of her tea. He takes another whiff (a hotter, more embarrassed scent) and gets a flustered hit to the chest for his troubles. He smiles, unable to help himself.
This is his ideal night, he thinks. Asako close, cozy and relaxed in their home. The scent of her happiness and her current new favorite soap slowly warming and a newer, sweeter scent coming out. He wouldn’t mind if every day could end like this.
The end of the fiscal year had been long and arduous, especially for Asako in accounting. She’s pulled so many late nights and barely had the energy to do more than eat and bathe before collapsing into their bed.
But now that’s all over and Koutarou can have this. A quiet night, both of them together after eating a good dinner. Washed and cuddled on the couch, content to just be close. He’d missed her cooking but had refused to add to her stress and exhaustion. He had missed holding her, being with her, he had missed her . He turns his nose in the whorl of her hair and relaxes, grinning like a fool. Because she’s back. The rush and stress is over and she’s here.
“Ready for bed?” she asks.
“No, it’s alright, let’s finish the show,” he says, reluctant to leave this little space.
“You can’t see the show like that,” she mutters, face warming.
“It’s fine.” He presses a kiss to the crown of her head.
She shifts, looking up at him before mirroring his smile. She leans up, leaving a soft peck on his lips. He smiles wider, ducking his head back into her hair as she curls close. “Getting your fill of my scent?” she teases.
“Yes,” he admits, unashamed. “It’s my favorite.”