[fic] xxxHolic (Doumeki/Watanuki)

[manic-intent.livejournal.com]

Title: On the importance of refusing gifts from Yuuko-san
Author: Anya
Rating: G
Warnings: Liberal use of caps in Watanuki's speech.
Word Count: 1,694
Summary: Watanuki supposes that he should have known there would be trouble when Yuuko offers to help with Doumeki's birthday bento.
A/N: Prompt: Watanuki/Doumeki: aphrodisiacs – “Everything was, is and probably will be Yuuko’s fault.”

Oct 8 - - xxxHolic, Watanuki/Doumeki: aphrodisiacs – “Everything was, is and probably will be Yuuko’s fault.”

 

[A/N: One of the oldest plot devices in the book, oh well. : )Note: this is in the same 'verse as all my other xxxHolic fics, that can be found in my Memories section.  No, I'm too lazy to provide a link or an explanation as to how to find said Memories section. ]

 

On the importance of refusing gifts from Yuuko-san

 

Watanuki supposed, sometime later, with the benefit of hindsight, that he really should have been suspicious when Yuuko had offered to help him with the cooking.  After all, she had exclaimed cheerfully, the sleeves of her iridescent red kimono folded up to her elbows, it was Doumeki-kun’s birthday, and she really felt that she should do something special. 

 

Indeed, once Yuuko’s words rewrote themselves in his head with italics Watanuki realized he should have engaged in some sort of preemptive defensive action, such as digging himself a nice, deep hole in the garden or, say, booking a holiday to Spain.  He certainly shouldn’t have smiled nervously and helped Yuuko make dessert (Watanuki had previously thought that cooking was a perfectly harmless activity).  And he certainly shouldn’t have agreed to follow Mokona to the storeroom to find some antique bento box that Yuuko had ‘graciously’ decided to lend him for the day. 

 

Nevertheless, after gently and politely fending off Yuuko’s attempts to help with the katsu curry and managing even to keep his patience at Yuuko’s bright exclamations of joy (complete with sparkling eyes and clasped hands) at his domesticity and sense of romance, he had made it to class on time and with most of his sanity intact, as much as could be salvaged from a couple of hours spent in the presence of a time witch and a talking rabbit.

 

He presented the bento ungraciously to Doumeki during lunch.  “Happy birthday.”

 

Doumeki’s smile was faint, gone in the next moment as the taller boy bent his head over the cafeteria table and unwrapped the binding fabric.  He’d been doing that lately, since the matter of the haunted shop, and it make Watanuki uneasy, which in turn made him irritable, which in turn amused Himawari (Watanuki-kun is so excited over Doumeki-kun’s birthday! Are the two of you going someplace nice? Dear Gods he was not gay not gay).

 

Himawari’s sweet voice broke into his downward spiral of automatic panic.  “Oh! Your bento and Doumeki-kun’s bento have manju.”

 

“Ah, Himawari-chan-” Watanuki was about to offer Himawari his manju before it occurred to him that Yuuko was the one who had prepared it, and remnant snake poison in Yuuko’s fingers might prove to be of serious harm to the sweet and pure Himawari.  “Um.  Yuuko-san made it.”

 

“Oh! It looks delicious.  I did not know Yuuko-san could cook!” Himawari smiled brightly (and then there was world peace, and kittens, and cherry blossoms, and if Doumeki was scowling at him he was sure it wasn’t any of his business). 

 

“I’m not sure she can,” Watanuki said cautiously, and felt instantly guilty the moment he had said it.  Wasn’t he once a beginner himself? Wouldn’t he have felt terrible if someone refused to eat his cooking purely because he had just started? But then, he couldn’t quite subject Himawari to any er, mistakes, after all… and besides, if he recalled, Yuuko had said something about the manju that he had thought was important at the time.  He wrestled with his memory over the chirashi.  Doumeki’s birthday.  Yuuko and manju.  Red bean paste.  Ah!

 

“And,” Watanuki added quickly, still refusing to look at Doumeki (really, he’d said he liked him but it wasn’t as though they were together or something and besides he just found the whole concept of together still incredibly disturbing and brain cell destroying argh), “Yuuko-san said the manju was for Doumeki-kun.  It seems he asked her for it last week.”

 

“Ah? You did?” Himawari blinked at Doumeki. 

 

“I did?” Doumeki looked equally confused.

 

Watanuki pounced on the wriggling memory.  “You did.  She said the manju was for you because of what the two of you spoke about last week, so you must have asked her for manju, though really, Doumeki, you could just have asked me and HEY…!”

 

Doumeki had reached over, grabbed his manju, and eaten it just as Watanuki was busy drawing breath.  And then he ate his own. 

 

Watanuki took in the deep breath that had been strangling in his throat.  “DOUMEKI YOU IDIO-”

 

“Doumeki-kun?” The worry in Himawari’s voice cut him short.  “You’re turning red.”

 

“Ah… excuse me,” Doumeki muttered, his breath unsteady, getting up and leaving the table in what was very nearly a run.

 

Off-balance, Watanuki managed a very dignified and coherent “What?”

 

“Was it the manju?” Himawari’s eyes fell to the two blank spaces in their boxes. 

 

Of course it was the manju.  Damn Yuuko-san! “I’ll go check on him,” Watanuki said, getting to his feet. 

 

--

 

Watanuki eventually located Doumeki in the relatively quiet shower-washroom shared by the archery and track clubs.  Since it was still within school hours the washroom was deserted – it was near the field, but in an odd outhouse that also served as a storeroom and locker room for the two clubs.  One of the shower stalls was occupied, and Watanuki could hear Doumeki breathing heavily.  The shower was on low, in a sprinkle of water that tapped a quick staccato on the white tiles.

 

“Doumeki?”

 

The heavy breaths hitched, then Doumeki whispered, “Go away.”

 

Watanuki was somewhat taken aback.  He had never heard Doumeki’s voice sound like that before, rough and tense.  “Are you all right? Is it food poisoning? Should I get the nurse?”

 

“No, no, and no,” Doumeki’s voice broke into a snarl, then there was a gulp of breath.  “I’m fine.  Go back to class.”

 

“Himawari-chan and I were worried about you,” Watanuki snapped, his temper flaring at Doumeki’s ungratefulness. 

 

“You needn’t be.”

 

“Well, I am,” Watanuki pushed hard and ineffectively at the door of the stall, “So just open up and let me take your temperature or something, you idiot!”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“People who are fine don’t hide out in shower stalls with the shower on and breathe like that,” Watanuki glared hard at the red tab on the door with its bold ‘Engaged’ print.  When it failed to move, he looked down.  The gap between the floor and the door was large enough for a skinny boy to crawl through, albeit in an extremely undignified manner that would dampen the knees of his trousers. 

 

“Don’t.” And it was not the harshness of the tone that stopped Watanuki, but the thread of desperation.  “Please.”

 

Watanuki went boneless against the door, leaning against it.  Suspicion raised its ugly head.  He should have known – anything and everything that could go wrong in his life indeed would somehow be Yuuko’s fault!  “Do I need to fetch Yuuko-san?”

 

An ugly laugh, that sounded so jarringly wrong coming from Doumeki that Watanuki shivered.  “No.”

 

“Can I get you something?”

 

“Just go.”

 

“I’m not,” Watanuki turned, his back against the door, folding his arms tightly.  “A… a friend wouldn’t.”

 

“Yeah.” And there was something tired in that affirmative, sad resignation.  A friend wouldn’t.  A friend.

 

Swallowing, Watanuki added, in a small voice, before his mind caught up with him in its tides of embarrassment, already glad that the door of the stall hid his bright red face, “Besides, I think we’ve been a little more than just friends for a while.”

 

This time, there was a long pause, and when Doumeki spoke, Watanuki could hear a wry smile.  “Yeah.”

 

“So,” Watanuki added inexorably, just to indicate that he wasn’t going to let it go, “Seriously, can I get the nur-”

 

“I think Yuuko-san put aphrodisiacs in the manju,” Doumeki interrupted him flatly. 

 

Watanuki’s brain proceeded to consider any number of wild and horrified questions before collapsing in a gasping heap.  “WHAT? WHAT? WHY?” A pause, for breath.  “WHAT DID YOU TALK TO HER ABOUT LAST WEEK YOU PERVERT.”

 

“About friendship,” Doumeki said calmly, as much as he could breathing like that, “And about you.  I didn’t want to be just friends.  And I didn’t know how.”

 

“YOU MADE A WISH.”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“SHE IS THE FANGED SERPENT.  SHE SEES WISHES IN YOUR BRAIN.”

 

“I certainly would not have wished for this.”

 

Watanuki’s brain reminded him at that point, even in its traumatized state, that Doumeki had eaten both the manjus, and his temper deflated.  “Oh.”  A gulp.  “Really?”

 

“If I want… if I want something with you, I want you to decide out of your own free will.  Not like this.”

 

“Ah.” Watanuki bowed his head.  A smile was pulling at the edges of his lips, and he didn’t know where it was coming from, but try as he might he couldn’t stop it.  He pushed away from the door, and sat down in the central bench in the washroom.

 

“Why are you still here?”

 

“Waiting to see that you’re all right, idiot.”

 

“I’m-” Doumeki began, then cut himself off.  “Thanks.”

 

“You’re buying me lunch later.”

 

--

 

Yuuko grinned when Watanuki finally ran out of steam.  “Ah, but he got his wish!”

 

“HE DIDN’T MAKE A WISH.”

 

“He did, but not in so many words.  He wanted to know whether you thought of him only as a friend.  Clearly you don’t.” Yuuko said, picking at her gyu tataki industriously.  “Ah, the younger generation is so shy!”

 

“Shy! Shy!” Maru and Moro skipped happily around the still-fuming Watanuki, whose Face of Fury was ruined by the white apron and the chef’s hat that Yuuko had recently decided he had to wear.

 

“IT WAS EMBARRASSING AND-”

 

“You got to see him in a towel.” Yuuko’s smile was sly. 

 

Watanuki was dimly aware that he was clutching his head and rolling around on the bamboo-mat floor in an act of horrified denial at the subtext.  “SO WHAT I HAVE SEEN GUYS IN A TOWEL BEFORE HELL I USE A TOWEL AND-”

 

“Yuuko! Yuuko!” Mokona bounced over the flailing Watanuki and into Yuuko’s lap.  “Letter delivery from the gate!”

 

“Ah, from Doumeki-kun,” Yuuko opened the envelope.  Watanuki stopped in mid-flail as she drew out a beautifully penciled paper charm.  “ ‘Thank you, Yuuko-san, but please do not do that again.’ Your boyfriend is so sweet, Watanuki-kun!”

 

“HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND!”

 

-fin-