So this is my first-ever xxxHolic fic. There will probably be more chapters when I can find the time to write them ^^'''

I reeeeally love writing in second-person POV, if you haven't already noticed. I dunno, it's easier for me.

Spoilers for chapters 180+! Just warning you now. Also, only rated T for now, until it gets to M later, possibly, idk.

Disclaimer: I do not own xxxHolic, sake, or a Chinese hanfu. God, disclaimers are depressing.

You don't know what to do. Rather, you don't know how much longer you can hold out. Not only does he confuse you, but the entire matter is starting to confuse you too. And you don't want to confuse yourself, because then you'd be some rambling fool who can't judge reality. Nowadays, though, it's hard not to question reality. You try not to think about that too much, but how can you tell the difference between what's real and what's a dream? Or are they both real? There's a growing headache telling you to stop everything; stop thinking, stop moving, stop breathing for just a moment. You want your feelings to be realized, but it's still hard to speak. You're afraid to say too many words for fear you'd choke from the sheer amount, so you say only a word or two at a time. You're a man of many words that can't break the surface of a stoic façade. He doesn't know, or he pretends not to know, or he's an idiot, or he's teasing you. Those are your options.

You'd much rather pick idiot.

Watanuki sets down Yuuko's pipe and snatches the cup from you, only to have you seize it back wordlessly. To have your hands touch if only just for a fleeting second, it's all you want but you crave for more. You want to touch more of him, to have him all to yourself, and it's a selfish thought. You glance at the bottle of sake — practically empty save for maybe one last glass. And you're the only one who's been drinking and you still thirst for more, but if you ask him to fetch another bottle that'd mean he'd leave the room, and, selfishly, you can't have him leave. You knock back the last of the sake straight from the bottle.

"Your liver must be made of steel," he deadpans, and his words give you an excuse to look at him. He's tired, very unamused, his mismatched eyes staring you down impassively, head resting lazily in one hand. He's barefoot and wearing a patterned black Chinese hanfu that makes his thin frame more prominent. You've noticed that he's become more and more like Yuuko in that there is more tranquility to his expression, more wisdom in his eyes. He seems too delicate, and moves slowly as if he'll break.

"I'm fine," you manage to say, standing up, and you suddenly feel sick to your stomach. Watanuki rushes up to balance you and ease you back down. Too dizzy to make sense of anything, you grab onto him, glad for the excuse to hold him.

"Idiot," he says with a small smile. "You can't go home when you're like this."

You don't protest; you just let yourself collapse into his grasp, allowing gravity to bring you down to where it's safe to fall. Your eyes close involuntarily while you hope you don't fall asleep. It's rare to see Watanuki genuinely concerned for you, so much so that it almost makes you wish for what used to be.

"Maru, Moro," he calls quietly, and somehow the twins are able to make out their names because a synchronized, high-pitched "yes master!" is heard from the hallway. You can just barely discern their silhouettes behind the sliding paper doors, and you can imagine the wide smiles on their faces. "Get some blankets and bring them to my room."

The silhouettes move as the two girls salute. "Right away master!"

Watanuki swings your arm over his shoulder and heaves you up to a weak standing position. "Get up, Doumeki."

The mere sound of your name from his voice grants you enough strength at least to make it to his bedroom. You've never seen it before, never imagined it; or maybe you just didn't think about the fact that he lived here now. It's shrouded in darkness except for one light that illuminates the mesh canopy over a bed with a cool hue. Maru and Moro stand at either side of a small provisional bed beside Watanuki's. They help him lay you down on the sheets, and there's no room to protest. The twins throw the bedcovers neatly over you as Watanuki slides into his own bed. The lights begin to dim, and you notice the twins have suddenly reappeared at the doorway in the blink of an eye, or maybe you've dazed off for a few moments.

"Goodnight master," they say, one after the other.

"Goodnight girls," he calls back.

"Goodnight Doumeki," they say, in unison this time.

"Nn." It's all you can manage to say, the alcohol finally showing the side effects of sleep. You succumb to it as soon as your head falls back to hit the pillow. You awaken seemingly a second later, but it's probably been an hour or two. Finally able to stand, you lean against Watanuki's bed and look over. His eyes are closed, black hair strewn beneath him. There's one arm out from the sheets, almost hanging off the edge of the bed — as if he's been sleeping on one side of the bed all night — and his head is slightly to the side. He's completely vulnerable, you know this, and you hope he doesn't. The desire burns, painfully. You long to lean over, kiss him, hold him down as he wakes up and struggles against the strength of an archer, knowing he can't possibly win but trying anyway. And you want to laugh, cry, and knock a bit of sense into him all at the same time. For someone who's become almost as wise and all-knowing as Yuuko, he sure is blind.

You can't help it now. You press your lips lightly to his, thinking that you'll end it with just that, thinking that it's within your power to stop there. But it's not, and you realize that once you've had a taste you need more. There's a tobacco flavor in his mouth, and he can probably taste the sake on your breath. You open your eyes just as Watanuki's eyes are fluttering open until they widen in surprise, his hands pushing at your shoulders to get you off of him but it's to no avail. His resistance is beginning to crumble as you slide a hand to his chest; the clothes, only a minor nuisance, easily slip off his mutters your name, commanding, for the brief moments when his mouth is free to breathe, trying to order you to come to your senses and stop, but hearing him say your name only causes you deepen the kiss, heightening the intensity, making you crave more and more and more until there's nothing left. The room is spinning, probably from the alcohol, so you cling to Watanuki's clothes for balance, for dear life, and slip your tongue in.

You feel that his defenses are weakening when he punches you, hard, and the physical injury doesn't hurt as much as the emotional one. The turmoil of confused and wounded feelings doesn't show on your face, but even Watanuki can tell he's done something to you, something more than just throw a punch you. But you figured as much, expected it, and in fact it would have been odd and uncharacteristic if he hadn't. His brow furrows in anger and shock, his fist still clenched, hair messy, breath ragged and labored, face flushed.


"Doumeki, you're drunk."

"Sure." You give him your usual deadpan stare, and it only makes him explode with fury.

"That wasn't a yes or no— That wasn't even a question! God, Doumeki. Go back to bed."

Watanuki turns away and throws the covers back over himself, irate and grumbling. You sigh, leaving what little is left of your body's control slip away as you fall back onto your makeshift bed. You use the last of your strength to stay awake until you hear him snore, breathing more relaxed and even, before bothering to close your eyes; you've almost forgotten to breathe yourself.

And you smile at the thought that you've made him blush more than he ever has in front of Himawari.

A/N: Please rate and review! I'd love to know what you think, and if I should keep going with this. You guys are my one and only motivation~!