Rating: PG- 13
Summary: In which Watanuki makes chocolates, contemplates about his relationship with Doumeki, and is kissed under the rain.
Word Count: 1104
Notes: Characters are owned by Clamp. Spoiler-free. This is for dessrata, luliecat, childishgrin and mushroom18. Pardon the fluff.
It's Valentine's day and Watanuki is back in his apartment, back in the kitchen with his hands smelling like sugar and mint. There is chocolate clinging into the creases of his palms, seeping into his fingernails and he likes how it feels, in a way-- the texture of it soft and never quite drying on his skin.
Watanuki is alone. The apartment is still. The man on the radio says something about clear skies and warm sun and a forecast of good weather. Outside, the air is sharp, heavy with the scent of cherry blossoms and leaves.
Watanuki isn't sure what he's doing anymore. The chocolates will be ready soon, and he thinks, fleetingly, of the storm Yuuko says is brewing in the Pacific. He thinks of the note Doumeki left him on the fridge. The words: Meet me in the park at noon, neat and tidy under his list of groceries, and what they should mean.
It is odd, in many ways, ironic, how the both of them have fallen into this routine of push and pull. Watanuki doesn't want to depend on the other boy for the wrong things. Doumeki's hands are warm and gentle, the curve of his neck soft where Watanuki finds a place to rest his head, but his taciturn still throws Watanuki off center and sometimes, Watanuki wonders why he puts up with him in the first place, why, out of all the people in the world, Doumeki is the only one that he will keep coming back to. Hitsuzen, Yuuko will say, and Watanuki is too tired of the word to pay attention to her much.
Doumeki is crazy and stupid, but for everything that he is, Watanuki can't help but fist the material of his shirt, helpless and angry and a little but desperate, when Doumeki does stupid things like sacrificing and saving and putting his life on the line. Doumeki holds him like no other: a hand on his shoulder when things don't always go as planned, an arm looped around his shoulders, pulling Watanuki into his chest when things make a turn for the worst. His kisses are placating, sometimes a method to shut him up or trip him into bed, but his intentions are pure and clear, not sugar-coated.
Doumeki wants all Watanuki can give him and Watanuki just wants to stop feeling so lost, because living alone with no family for a long time can do that to you. He likes somebody to look out for him, somebody to boss around, somebody to come home to after a long day of school or work. There are things he will never tell Doumeki, things like how his toes curl into the mattress when Doumeki hitches up his shirt and kisses his stomach and pushes in slow, things like how maybe Doumeki will perhaps be the only boy, the only person, that will be able to both annoy Watanuki like no other and yet make him cry at the same time. Because losing Doumeki will mean Watanuki has to stop making lunch for two. It will mean there will be only one plate laid out on the table, only one pair of chopsticks in the cupboard and half as much of food in the fridge. It will mean Watanuki has no need for the extra chair in the breakfast table.
Watanuki sighs. The air is stirring, shifting. The chocolates are ready. Heat pools in his belly, making him feel oddly warm, oddly full. The prospect of giving them to Doumeki makes him fluster and clench his hands into fists. He is not a girl, not a girl, he tells himself, cursing everything, cursing Doumeki. Doumeki doesn't deserve homemade chocolates, he doesn't deserve red bows or boxes, nor does he deserve Watanuki. He 's stupid. He's smug. He's the star of the archery team. He's a perfect bastard that deserves more.
Watanuki washes his hands, grabs an umbrella and then steps out of his apartment. The skies are darker now, and he looks at his watch. He is three hours late. It takes him fifteen minutes to get to the park by foot and the ground under his feet becomes slowly dark, slowly wet with rain. Sure enough Doumeki is there, sitting in one of the benches, his hands folded on his lap. He looks thoughtful, or perhaps just blank. He wears his shirt casually the way he sits under the rain that is steadily pouring around him.
Watanuki blinks, fights the fond irritated way he wants to throttle the other boy and runs towards him, then slows down because he is not, in any way, eager to see the other boy. He lifts the umbrella, over Doumeki's head and Doumeki lifts his gaze to meet his eyes. Watanuki flushes.
"Idiot." Doumeki says. "You're late."
Watanuki snorts and say, derisive, "You're the bigger idiot! It's raining! And you're just sitting there!" Watanuki doesn't wipe the lines or rain like tinsel on Doumeki's hair, nor does he move too close. Doumeki stands, almost knocks the umbrella out of his grasp, and he eyes Watanuki for a moment before holding up the umbrella over the both of them, their fingers brushing though very briefly.
"I was waiting for you." He says later, and Watanuki's head snaps up.
"You shouldn't have been." Watanuki rubs his wrist consciously and he hates with a passion how he's reduced to incoherence, into coyness. Watanuki's not shy. Shy is for pretty girls in floral dresses.
Doumeki asks, "Why not?"
Watanuki blinks. The smell of damp leaves is heavy now, so is the smell of wet earth. Watanuki is at a loss for words and Doumeki just stares at him, expecting an answer. Watanuki pulls him forward, fingers in the lapels of his shirt, and kisses him without preamble. It is soft and short, all teeth and lips, until Doumeki's arms come up around his waist and pull him in deeper. Doumeki smells like rain now, too, and something darkly sweet that has Watanuki's knees near-wavering underneath him. His face heats, his pulse quickens. Heat fills his belly.
Today is Valentine's Day and it is raining.
Doumeki kisses Watanuki one more time and doesn't say happy valentine's day, doesn't say anything really but Watanuki is still and quiet pressed up against him.
He says, "I have a box of chocolates at home," and Watanuki doesn't think about what this implies. He shuts up, stops thinking, and curls instinctively, into the damp warmth of Doumeki's arms and chest.
Around them, the Tokyo streets fill with rain.
-This is unbeta-ed and written under an hour in one of my university's computer shop. --X happy valentine's day, all!