Title: One Sided Arguments

Pairing: Kasanoda x Tetsuya
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All properties relating to OHSHC belong to Bisco Hatori.

Notes: I wrote this in about 25 minutes one morning before I had to go to sleep for work, and in a way it parodies my own tendency to use brackets whenever I write letters or am messaging online. So far Kasanoda and Tetsuya have inspired the most writing out of me of all my fandoms pretty much, but it may be because almost no one else writes them. I have to create all this stuff for my own enjoyment. Ah well, it's keeping me in business over here so to speak.

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He didn't love him.

Definitely not.

It was a fact he argued aloud to himself several times a week.

After a month or two he realized that perhaps it was a bad sign to have to argue such a point with yourself when there was no one else within audible range. When you resorted to fighting the matter over verbally with yourself, (though not to the point of replying to your own well thought out and reasonable arguments) it made a definite statement about the issue currently under discussion.

It took another month of deliberations to admit that he did in fact love the other young man.

It was a platonic thing, of course. He was merely confused by his gratitude and near worship of his redheaded master.

Nothing to worry about, he reassured himself. Everyone loved the young master and served him happily. Of course it had to be argued that most of these others had served him since he was an infant and were greatly older than him. They had long standing ties to the family and bloodline, so of course they loved the figures they served. He himself on the other hand was a recent addition, the son of the Kasanoda-gumi's enemy, and nearly the same age as the one he spent so much time serving (and fantasizing about).

Those were just errant flights of fancy though, he argued.

Daydreams. Nothing more.

He explained that to himself several times a day.

Certainly the idea of wearing a frilly apron and greeting Ritsu (he always called his master by first name for some reason in these fantasies) with a smile and a warm meal when he came home from a hard day at work (he was never a yakuza chief either, always a botanist, or a veterinarian or something else better suited to his nature) wasn't that offensive a fantasy.

It was harmless and innocent.

That particular point was argued for two more weeks.

He was just fantasizing about being able to take care of his master (and the house they apparently shared together). It was a reasonable thought for a servant to think over. It wasn't like the fantasies were romantic at all, (despite the distracting candlelight) they were platonic. He never once said "I love you." to his master in these fantasies (perhaps because he felt it was already understood), he never once kissed him, (although he guessed that how he greeted Ritsu could only be rightfully described as an embrace), and no advances were made whatsoever (and that certainly wasn't because he was always interrupted from his daydreams before he could get to the good parts).

It was a safe and harmless fantasy.

Not that he ever planned of making mention of these errant fanciful thoughts, since things like these can get blown out of proportion and are largely open to interpretation. Even the suggestion that he might be thinking strange thoughts like these certainly wouldn't go over well with the older members of the Kasanoda-gumi, even if it was just a misunderstanding.

Not making much progress with his current line of argument, he took up his daily chores.

He swept (thinking of his master).

He folded the laundry (wondering what his master was up to at that moment).

He watered the garden (considering what Ritsu might like for dinner that evening).

He took out the garbage (deciding tonkatsu, one of Ritsu's favourites was a good choice).

He began preparing supper (arguing that it wasn't weird that his thoughts were so preoccupied with the redhead).

He was still in the kitchen deliberating this to himself, when Ritsu arrived home from school. He was concentrating on his work, carefully preparing the pork and dipping it gingerly into the egg-wash before coating it in flour and panko, so he didn't notice for some time that he was being watched. During the course of his chores his hair had started to fall from it's normally firmly tied ponytail and settled in soft waves down his back. His shirt was slightly rumpled and pulled up past his elbows, and the flour from his cooking was smeared across one cheek. He wished he'd heard when his master had entered the house, he could've at least made himself a little more presentable (and perhaps thrown on a frilly apron).

He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he turned to face his master (and shouted in the back of his mind to remember that he served this man, not loved him, not as anything but a master) and bowed deeply.

"Dinner's not ready yet, Young Master." he murmured respectfully. "I can bring it to your room when I'm done, if you'd like."

Ritsu stared at him a moment, noting his rumpled appearance and the redness in his face. Surprisingly his master chuckled, (a rather warm low noise that made the butterflies in his stomach start whirling about furiously for some reason) and brushed back an errant strand of hair that had gotten stuck in the flour caked to his cheek. His hand was soft and pleasant and the sort of thing one might wish to lean in to if it wouldn't seem so odd, but it was dropped all too soon (or perhaps not soon enough, given the intensity of feelings just a simple touch seemed to illicit), and he turned back to his work in embarrassment.

He at first thought something might be wrong when he felt the hair lifted from the back of his neck.

He next thought something must be very wrong (and just a bit right) when he began to feel small tentative kisses pressed against the curve of his throat.

He decided that he'd finally lost it and was trapped (wonderfully) somehow in one of his fantasies when strong arms pulled him around roughly, and he felt that even at only two inches shorter than his master he was at a distinct disadvantage (and wasn't minding one bit).

He finally realized as he leaned into the kiss, mouth meeting up perfectly with that of the other young man, that perhaps there was no point in arguing anymore.

"I love you, Ritsu."

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The End.

A/N: See? Short and silly, but hopefully enjoyable. You can always review and tell me for certain though. No pressure....I'm going to keep writing even if I get no comments (not uncommon for me and this pairing. Oh well.)