kinkfest | xxxHolic (Domeki/Watanuki)

louiselux.livejournal.com posting in

Title: Birdsong
Author:

louiselux
Rating: pg 13 mild m/m
Warnings: none
Word count: 1817
Summary: There is a bird in Domeki's temple and it wants something.
A/N: thanks to

emungere for beta!

Prompt: Under the influence of something mystical - "Mating"

Birdsong

There was a bird sitting on the temple roof when Dômeki went out to sweep up the leaves that morning. He stared at it. It had been there every morning for the past week, and every morning it watched him with beady black eyes and made cooing noises that were somehow oppressive. It was just a bird, as far as he could tell. He'd need Watanuki to tell him any different, except that Watanuki was an annoying immature idiot. A bell chimed within the temple and out in the road a car chugged past.

"Why do you keep coming here?" Dômeki said.

Watanuki was standing at the gates, his black hair ruffling in the breeze like someone was touching it. He clutched his schoolbag in one hand. In the other was Dômeki's lunch. An annoying, immature idiot who made him lunch every day. As well as all the other chores he did for that witch. At least she kept him safe.

"I don't keep coming here," Watanuki said, heatedly enough to make the bird flutter its wings and coo in an alarmed sounding way.

"And yet here you are. Again."

"It's on my way! What, can't I walk past here if I want?"

The temple wasn't really on his way and they both knew it. Dômeki handed him a broom and wondered if Watanuki would have anything to say about the bird.

He didn't. But he put down his bag and the lunch and began to tidy the paths around the temple. Dômeki went off to get sacks for the sweepings, and when he came back Watanuki was staring at the pile of leaves. It came up to his knees. The bird was singing again.

"Yûko-san'd want sweet potatoes if she saw this," Watanuki said, sweeping in even absent-minded movements, as if he'd been sweeping all his life.

"I'd like sweet potatoes," Dômeki said.

Watanuki looked up, mouth open very slightly as if he was horrified by the suggestion. "I already made you lunch," he said.

"But I'll need dinner, too," Dômeki said.

Making those violent emotions wash over Watanuki's face was addictive. He wanted to smile, but he didn't.

"I suppose you'll want me to do your cleaning and washing next?" Watanuki said, sweeping the gravel so hard that it spat across the paving in all directions.

He huffed out a sharp sigh and began to sweep it back. He didn't miss a single piece. Dômeki knew because he watched out of the corner of his eye.

"You're very handy with a broom," he said.

Himawari had told him once that Watanuki lived alone. His parents had died a long time ago. He wondered what they had been like, to have had a son like Watanuki who lived half in and half out of the real world. Watanuki never complained. It was interesting, Dômeki thought, as he watched Watanuki's pale, sharp face. He hid so much.

"Well, if I'm so useful for cleaning and making you every single meal of the day, why don't I just move in?" Watanuki snapped.

The bird cooed from its perch. Its song was musical and low and happy and Dômeki had begun to hear it in his dreams, the same ones that had Watanuki in them. He looked up at it and it looked back. It was brown and boring, plump and satisfied looking. He didn't think it was entirely normal. He looked over at Watanuki, who had his back to it and was stabbing at the gravel.

"Are you ignoring that bird?" Dômeki said, after a while.

"What bird?"

"The one that's been here every morning recently," Dômeki said. He walked over and put a hand on Watanuki's arm. "Like you."

Watanuki shook his arm off and turned round. He didn't look at Dômeki, but fixed his eyes somewhere over his left shoulder.

"It's just a bird," he said, much more quietly.

"I know it's not," Dômeki said.

Watanuki made an impatient movement with his broom. "It's fine. It doesn't want anything."

"I don't believe you."

Watanuki gave him a look that Dômeki couldn't even begin to read. "I could ask Yûko-san."

"No," Dômeki said, then heard the echo of his voice ringing in his ears, because he'd shouted it.

Watanuki nodded, like Dômeki hadn't just yelled at him. There was a soft breath of wind behind Dômeki's ear, and a dusty smell, like something that had been kept too long in an attic. Watanuki lifted his hand and the bird landed on it, its brown feet curling tightly around a finger. Watanuki touched its head and the bird sang again. He closed his eyes, slowly, as if he was falling asleep on his feet. Dômeki got ready to catch him, but he stayed steady.

"It's lonely," Watanuki whispered, after a long time. He opened his eyes and stared straight at Dômeki. His gaze was sad and sleepy, and Dômeki shivered. He wondered where Watanuki had just been. "It's lost its mate. It can't find another."

"Why not?"

"It's the last of its kind."

The street outside was getting busier with people on their way to work and school. They'd have to leave themselves soon. Watanuki held out his hand, offering the bird to Dômeki. It hopped onto his finger. Its feet were cool and gripped much harder than he thought they would.

"What does it want with us?" Dômeki said.

Watanuki swallowed and the bird sang again, liquid and mellow, its soft throat working.

"Nothing. It's a really stupid bird," he muttered, and walked off, grabbing his school bag and Dômeki's lunch as he went.

Its song floated through Dômeki's mind all morning, getting stronger, and at his lunchtime practise he missed the mark over and over again, until his sensei snapped at him to leave and to come back when he could be bothered to concentrate on archery instead of girls. His chest felt tight and too full, like something inside him might burst.

"Have you seen him?" he asked Himawari, when he found her.

"Oh, yes. He gave me delicious ikameshi," she said, then gave him a worried look. "We missed you at lunch."

Her voice was musical and sad, and sounded too much like birdsong.

Dômeki hurried off. He didn't see Watanuki again until he was walking home, when the song of the bird seemed to ring in his ears until they hurt. He walked fast to catch up,until he was close enough to put his hand on Watanuki's shoulder.

"Hey, come back to the temple," he said.

Watanuki turned and glared at him, opened his mouth to say something stupid and rude, no doubt, then closed it.

"Are you all right?" was all he said.

Dômeki shook his head. "What does it want?"

"Stop asking me that!"

"Tell me," Dômeki said. "Can't you hear it?"

Watanuki slid free of his hand and stepped back, his face pink. He lifted his chin in a single jerky nod, then closed his eyes and sighed, very deeply, as if he was at the very end of his patience.

"Okay, but we have to go back to your place."

The bird fluttered after them as they went inside, but when it tried to fly in through the open screens, Dômeki shooed it out. Its chest rose and fell as it sang, a whistling, questioning lilt.

"Don’t tell Himawari-chan," Watanuki said. He knelt down and laid his forehead on the mat, like he was doing some sort of stretching exercise. "Oh god," he moaned.

"Just say it," Dômeki said, sitting opposite. "Putting it off doesn't make it easier."

Watanuki raised his head. His hair was mussed and he looked like he might cry.

"It wants you to kiss me."

Outside, they could both hear it, shuffling its feet on the verandah and tweeting softly.

"It wants us to kiss?"

"No," Watanuki said, slowly, as if he had jaw ache. His hands were clenched on his knees and he probably couldn’t go any redder. "It wants you to kiss me."

Dômeki watched as Watanuki kept on waiting for him to open his mouth and ask why the bird would expect a red blooded male like Dômeki to want to kiss another man, specifically Watanuki and, when the question never came, he watched also as Watanuki's eyes widened.

"Dômeki… "

"Will it be happy if I do that? It'll go away and stop looking at me?"

"Yes. But! You can't just kiss me," Watanuki said, clenching his fists. "It's not right."

"So you're saying you want the bird to suffer?"

"No! But. No." Watanuki stared down at his knees, at his hands that were tight knots. The bird was silent. Tactful, thought Dômeki. "Don't tell Himawari-chan," Watanuki said again, after a long time. He looked up, pleading. "Please?"

"I won't."

Watanuki met his gaze. "I can't believe this. What does it mean, you have to kiss me? Why that way round?"

Watanuki's hands were shaking; Dômeki could see where he was clenching them to hide it.

"Just-- shhh," Dômeki said, moving closer until they were knee to knee. He leaned forward, trying to keep his voice steady. Really, he wasn't sure if that bird wasn't a specialist in torture. "It doesn't matter. Don’t worry about it."

"That's easy for you to-- oh. Ohh."

His lips were soft, and wet where he must've licked them. Dômeki cupped his jaw with one hand, and inside his stupid heart sang out when Watanuki made a soft, wavering noise and let Dômeki slide his tongue between his lips. Their teeth bumped and the tip of Watanuki's nose was cold against his cheek. He could feel Watanuki's hand twist into his shirt, pulling him closer, until it was pushing him back and Watanuki was pulling away, breathing hard.

"Have you ever done this before?" he whispered.

Dômeki nodded.

"With a guy?"

He nodded again. "From the archery club."

Watanuki bit his lip and nodded in a shocked, jerky sort of way. Dômeki heard him draw in a breath

"It said. It told me it wanted us to mate."

"Mate?"

"But we don't have to, do we?" Watanuki said, in a rush.

Dômeki sat back and struggled with his breathing until he felt mostly calm.

"D'you want its effort to be worthless?" he said, and then he couldn't help smiling when Watanuki sat back, his mouth hanging open. "Although the kissing might have been enough," he added. "Let's wait and see."

"I hate you so much," Watanuki said, drooping, although he didn't get up and leave.

They sat together for a little while longer, until Dômeki noticed the lack of noise from outside. He opened the screen and stepped out. He thought that the bird had flown away at first, until he saw the tip of a dusty brown wing on the path. It had fallen down beside the steps. There was a movement behind him and then Watanuki's hand on his shoulder, the touch very soft.

"What is it?" Watanuki said, and when he saw the bird he fell silent. He crouched down next to it and took it in his palm. "Poor thing."

"We'd better bury it."

"Dômeki," Watanuki said, afterwards. Dômeki had made tea and the tray sat between them, and Watanuki still wasn't leaving. Dômeki still felt the press of their mouths, soft and slow. "Why did the bird want us to-- do that?"

Dômeki thought about that, and about what to say. It didn’t seem right to lie, not now. He shrugged, as if it didn't matter.

"Because it knew what I wanted," he said.