Just Another Ordinary Day
Fandoms: Axis-Powers Hetalia and xxxHoLic
Genre: Humour/Romance
Rating: T
Pairings: Doumeki/Watanuki, France/England, Russia/China, Greece/Japan, Cuba/Canada, Spain/Romano
Warnings: Random, swearing, violence, slash/shounen ai, Yuuko, and a tomato. Singular.
Summary: Which is worse: Facing Yuuko on a bad day, or facing potentially homicidal fairytale creatures that may or may not want to eat you? Watanuki is still deliberating.
A/N: Dedicated to s2lou, who commenced a fic-trade. She wrote me Spain/Romano, and I'm writing her a Hetalia-Holic crossover. :3
I
Why? I ask myself that every day that I work for that crazy lady; why do I put up with her overbearing nature and obscene obsession with alcoholic beverages? Then I take a look at the lug standing beside me and I remember, with perfect clarity, one of the reasons.
To get rid of him.
If I were true with myself and listened to my subconscious once in a while, I would admit that perhaps I didn't mind having the jerk around once in a while, you know, just to have someone I could vent my frustrations on without consequence. Now if I were to remain steady with that bout of verity and go for a consecutive streak of two truths in one day, I would say, without hesitation, that that excuse sounded delusive, even to myself.
If Yuuko-san were here she would laugh at me. Then smack me with her stupid paper fan. Then scold me, just because. And that stupid duck puppet might make an appearance if my luck was bad enough.
As it is, she's sending us on a ridiculous errand to deliver a package to a man in Tokyo that goes by the name of Honda Kiku. I glanced at the tag again, just to be sure, and I could feel Doumeki's eyes skim over to me for whatever reason (not that he needed one; the guy does things his way no matter what). I can see the spirits crowding around the reaches of Doumeki's aura, held away in a circle, as if rejected by an invisible barrier. Which they were, but few people could actually see the phenomenon so it didn't particularly matter what I called it.
After roughly half an hour of walking through overly thronged streets and being jostled by random people we made it, looking no worse for wear than we did coming off he train earlier that afternoon. The glass double doors were as pristine as the conditions allowed, only small, disjointed portions smeared with fingerprints, and no one automatically jumped us when they saw the box in my arms, thinking that we were terrorists.
Slowly I walked to the bored, female secretary sitting behind the desk, listlessly painting her nails. Here goes nothing.
II
"Excuse me," Watanuki said softly, trying not to disturb the peaceful (dull) air that swamped the inside of the building, blessedly cool compared to the humid summer heat wave. He put on a smile that was, though small and faintly strained around the edges, absolutely genuine. "I was wondering if you might be able to direct me to the whereabouts of Honda Kiku-san?"
She glanced at him, glaring slightly from under painted eyelids and continuing to coat her nails with a sickly sea-foam green colour, and scoffed, clicking something on her computer and skimming over the contents with definite disinterest. Doumeki's own eyes narrowed into a disapproving stare at the uncalled for treatment.
"He's on the third floor, room 12." She flopped back into her chair, gaze switching from Watanuki to Doumeki, suddenly turning from unveiled disdain to clandestine attraction.
Doumeki couldn't quite stop the word bitch from whispering across his mind.
Watanuki thanked the woman as quietly as he had greeted her and Doumeki vaguely wondered if the Seer had even noticed her apparent and unfounded dislike for him. Somehow he doubted it.
They made a beeline for the elevator, though neither knew why exactly when there were fully functional stairs not ten feet away and were probably faster, but Doumeki rationalized that they had both had a strenuous trip. Watanuki said nothing as they waited, merely jabbing the button and cradling the parcel in his arms, protecting it from anything that might be lurking around the building wishing to cause harm. Doumeki stood silent beside him, fighting back his impulses and trying his best to offer mute support.
He could only hope that Watanuki understood and took it was it was instead of distorting it into some twisted version where he was somehow gloating.
The ride upstairs was soundless, save for the sounds of their footsteps and the whir of the machinery, just as the wait, and so was the walk to the designated room. Watanuki stared at the room number, wondering what Yuuko's trip had in store for them. The sounds of yelling and arguments permeated through the air, setting both of them on their guard; riots had started on them before for no reason whatsoever, so what would stop a bunch of already angry people from going off on them?
Doumeki grew intrigued when a flurry of different languages began to be spoken, while all Watanuki felt in response was dread. The Seer raised his fist, tentatively knocking on the door, trying not to hope that they didn't hear him. After a few seconds of non-stop shouts he nearly gave into the relief; the second he started to entertain the idea of getting let off the hook, the traditional Shoji door slid open, revealing a tall, smiling white-blond haired man, his wide, childish violet eyes sending shivers down Watanuki's spine. An intimidating aura radiated off him, and when he spoke there was an unknown accent lingering in his voice.
"You need something, da?" he asked, white scarf bundled around his neck and a heavy tan jacket on despite the overbearing heat. Watanuki swallowed hard, fighting the impulse to back away, very slowly, and offered a strained smile.
"Ah, I'm sorry for the intrusion, but we're looking for a man by the name of Honda Kiku-san." His voice tremble despite his attempts at keeping it confident. The man tilted his head to the right and Watanuki tried not to squeak and use Doumeki, who stood a good half a head shorter than the foreign man, leaving himself a full head smaller, as a shield.
"Kiku-san, da?" He turned, smile still firmly held on his lips, and called to one of the Asian men in currently inhabiting the area. "Japan-san, you have guests, da!"
Japan, as the man called him (Watanuki was unsure if there was any actual significant behind the name or if he was merely the Japanese representation in the group; there seemed to be one for nearly every nation), looked up and gave a curt nod, politely excusing himself from the argument though no one but a long haired man (Chinese if Watanuki were to guess), who grinned pleasantly and waved, then threatened the man beside him with a large wok that he pulled out of seemingly no where, and a half asleep Greek man who yawned and stroked a cat that, for some reason, clung to his shirt.
"Thank you Russia-san," Honda-san said quietly, gracing the Russian with a shallow bow before turning to the two. Watanuki, having unconsciously moved closer to Doumeki in his quest to escape the (freakishly) tall mans odd atmosphere, cleared his throat and delicately held out the parcel.
"We apologize for the interruption," he repeated, waiting for the smaller Japanese man to take it, noticing the Katana strapped securely to the waist of his white pants, "but Yuuko-san asked us to deliver this to you. She said payment had already been collected."
Honda-san accepted it, gently tugging the knot of the cloth and barely unfolding it enough for himself to see, let alone anyone else in the room. With a seemingly content nod Honda-san retied it, tucking it under his arm in a similar manner to way Watanuki had been carrying for safe keeping. He offered a polite bow. "Thank you."
Watanuki smiled and backed away, warily glancing at the tall, smiling Russian man as he zeroed in on the long haired man who had noticed Honda-san's quiet exclusion of the argument. He bit his lip to help fight back a shudder and unknowingly grabbed Doumeki's shirt sleeve, tugging him back. Honda-san caught the movement, a small frown on his lips in response.
"Are you certain that Yuuko-san said payment had already been secured?" he asked, stepping out into the hall with them and closing the door to muffle the raised voices in the conference room. The last sight Watanuki saw inside was the Chinese man blushing furiously and saying something in quick Mandarin to the Russian man, who continued to grin like there was nothing wrong.
"Ah, yes, she said that we could deliver it to you and leave. She didn't mention anything about the cost of it." He glanced to Doumeki for confirmation and the taller teenager silently validated the statement, his face as stoic and unchanging as always when they went into public view.
Honda-san nodded once more and murmured a soft thank-you, distractedly glancing back at the door and shifting his feet. Watanuki smiled politely and quietly called back his attention, dismissing them both and bowing in return. Doumeki nodded at the (much) shorter man when the dark eyes turned to him. A brief and tight-lipped smile was spared for them and the man retreated back into the room as the argument began to escalate once again, the door sliding shut behind him.
"Well," Watanuki murmured, rubbing his right hand down his left arm, "we had best be going then."
Doumeki glanced over, only his eyes moving so that his companion wouldn't notice the observation. There was a small smile on his lips that, instead of conveying happiness or contentment, showed only a sense of self-depreciation. For the life of him, and even after all the experience he had when it came to dealing with Watanuki, Doumeki couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why it was was there. It looked wrong on the usually jubilantly grinning lips.
"Oi-"
"Hey Doumeki," Watanuki interrupted, clasping his arms behind his back for no other reason other than having to do something with them after carrying the parcel for so long, "let's take the stairs, 'kay?"
Doumeki stared hard at the smaller teenager for a moment, then gave a firm, confirmatory nod and took the lead towards the door at the end of the hallway that read the words, 'STAIRS'. He pushed it open and held up, waiting for Watanuki to walk through first before following and simultaneously ignoring the partially annoyed, partly scathing look the blue-eyed boy shot him. He shrugged and retaliated with what he knew Watanuki thought was his 'smirk-of-supposed-superiority.'
The following huff and aggravated blush was cute, but it was a shame the sight was abruptly replaced with a cold, gray wall and a strangled yelp as Watanuki fell down the steps.
III
"Idiot," Doumeki sighed again, toting the slender boy in his arms back down the hallway, aiming for the vacant sitting room he had spied while exiting the elevator. Watanuki grumbled sourly, folding his arms and refusing to support himself, leaving his body a dead weight in Doumeki's arms. While he hoped it would give the archer a harder time carrying him, the only result was him suffering the indignation of being held bridal style as they traversed the stretch of beige carpeted floor. To add to the misery of the situation at hand, his ankle was sprained from his ungraceful trip and throbbed lightly with each step his personal exorcist took.
To lightly summarize the situation, Watanuki could quite firmly say that he was not amused by the antics of whatever god had decided to torture him today. On the other hand, while he didn't enjoy the pain the other was going through, Doumeki was enjoying their position.
"Oh let me go you ass," Watanuki griped as they reached the sitting room, kicking out his uninjured leg. Doumeki shot an irritated glare at the difficult boy but acquiesced, dumping the seer roughly on a slightly plushier looking chair. "Thank you."
Doumeki held back a smile at the sarcastic tone.
Watanuki bent over and rolled his pant leg up to his knee, gently running his hands over the skin and tentatively poking around the steadily swelling ankle. He hissed and huffed at the sting he was afforded with, pouting at his foot.
"Sprained," he grumbled, flopping backwards into his chair once more. "I was hoping it was just sore."
"Idiot," Doumeki stated, kneeling on one knee (and vaguely reminded Watanuki of a man preparing to propose to his wife; a shock of indignation went through him at the thought) and carefully cradling the injured leg in his hands, meticulously examining it. Before too long he came to a conclusion and lightly set the foot back on the ground. "I'm going to get you some ice."
"You don't have to, you know." Hazel eyes narrowed on him with a serious, slightly annoyed glare. "It'll be fine in a little while, honestly. Don't worry about it."
Doumeki ignored him and continued on regardless, dismissing Watanuki's sad attempts to get him to stop his trek and return to his side so the irregular amount congregation of spirits wouldn't attack him en masse (he had began to notice them first on his trip down the stairs, then again when Doumeki got no more than a meter away from him). Swallowed harshly and beginning to shake, Watanuki shrunk down into his seat, using the pain of his slouched position to detract his attention from the hungry legions of demons that focused completely on him.
Five minutes after Doumeki had left, and four minutes after he had taken to rolling his sprained ankle to keep his mind off of the disgusting, noxious black smoke permeating through the room, the door to the conference room that they had met Kiku-san in slid open and a short hair blonde man in a green army uniform slunk out, sneakily closing the door after him. Watanuki cocked his head to the right, his curiosity blocking the feeling of cold black tendrils of fog lapping at his neck. The man glanced both ways, seeming to not notice him at first, then repeated the action quicker, eyes widening at the sight of him.
From where he was sitting Watanuki could see two thick, nearly black... strips where the mans eyebrows should have been, and wondered is somehow two thick, fuzzy caterpillars had waded in glue then attached themselves to his forehead. Then, he gave a violent mental lurch and threw that thought away. After all, it was painfully rude to think something of that nature about someone he had yet to meet.
At first, because of his enrapturing train of mental reflection, he didn't notice the foreign man stalking at a fast pace down the hallway towards him.
"Excuse me!" Watanuki glanced up with round eyes at the indignant, accented voice (he had a feeling that the stranger was going for intimidation, but after working for Yuuko, there were few people who could truly scare him anymore like she could). "What are you doing here?"
"Ah, excuse me, but we had to deliver a parcel to Honda-san, urgently, and on the way back downstairs I tripped and sprained my ankle." He held up his injured foot for confirmation, the leg still rolled up from his own investigation of the wound. The skin had darkened to a deeper red and the flesh was distended larger than earlier, thanks to his aggravation of it. The man's green eyes narrowed at him, almost disbelieving, then glanced up to look at something behind Watanuki.
"And how, precisely, do you explain those things floating behind you!" The blonde demanded, standing up and fisting his hands on his hips. Watanuki's mouth dropped open, shock and astonishment gripping him and he slowly turned his head to looking at the hovering spirits, a shudder working down his spine.
"You... you can see them?" he asked hesitantly, voice quavering lightly. The man stared at him for a moment, his hand remaining on its spot on his hip and his upper body slouched over his slightly.
"Of course I can see them! Who wouldn't be able to? They practically swamp the waiting room and are spilling into the hallway!"
Watanuki shook his head vehemently, short hair whipping as much as it could in the his self-created wind and his glasses slipping down his nose. "No, people usually can't see them!" He uttered nervously, voice gaining an undercurrent of the stubborn tone he used when he spoke to Doumeki. The man stared at him for a moment, silent and scrutinizing him with a queer look. Just before Watanuki got so uncomfortable with the expression that he snapped at the stranger, Doumeki reappeared at the end of the hallway, holding a bag of ice already beginning to melt in the heat. Almost desperate to get away from not only overwhelming presence of the ghouls closing around him, but away from the obviously important figure head that had sneaked out of his meeting, Watanuki scrambled out of his seat, limping as quickly as possible to get to the archer.
"Oi!" Doumeki growled, surging forward to scoop the smaller teenager up as he tripped. Watanuki yelped at the abrupt chill of the ice against his back and the tight grip of Doumeki's fingers clutching him. "You shouldn't be walking on your ankle, you idiot."
"Well I'm sorry, but when you try being gnawed on for ten minutes waiting for an ice bag, of all things, then you can preach to me!" Watanuki growled, thumping a fist against Doumeki's chest. "And by the way, it's an extremely disturbing experience, I'll have you know."
"You, what's your name?"
Watanuki's body jerked at the sudden reappearance of the accented voice, his head swiveling in the blonde's direction, eyes wide and mouth gaping. Slowly he lifted a hand and pointed to himself in a question manner, flushing when the man rolled his eyes and nodded impatiently. "W-Watanuki Kimihiro."
"It's as if you've never had someone ask your name before," the foreigner muttered, shaking his head. "Well, my name is Arthur Kirkland. I am the current representative of Great Britain."
Watanuki frowned, thinking back to the World map in his classroom, mind recalling the island country. He looked to Doumeki to confirm his geographical knowledge. As he spoke he stumbled over the letters, his own accent slurring the word. "En-gu-rand?"
Doumeki nodded and glanced back at Arthur, who's lips twisted at the butchery of his home countries name. Belatedly he noticed the oddly thick eyebrows.
Before anything more could be said, there was a dull, muted roar of chairs being pushed back and a multitude of feet moving towards the door. Then, a horde spilled out into the hallway and moving to more secluded areas to stop and chat amiably. A couple of people glanced over at them interestedly, but polite indifference kept them where they were.
Until a loud, obnoxious blonde strolled out, zeroing in on Arthur and nearly skipping over with a bright, almost cheesy grin on his face and a burger in hand.
"Yo, Iggy!" the man called around a mouth full of food. Watanuki looked stunned and appalled at the mans mannerisms, mouth moving silently in a gape. Doumeki raised an eyebrow but said nothing, shifting the smaller boy onto the floor, some of the melted water from the ice wetting Watanuki's back. The blue-eyed boy shot a small glare at his taller companion, huffing and shifting uncomfortably.
Even still, he made sure he put no weight on his foot.
"That meeting was productive, don't you think?" Arthur rolled his eyes and Doumeki pondered at the nickname, then decided it was irrelevant and focused instead on horrified Watanuki watching the new arrival.
"Of course; if you call the lot of us arguing back and forth as usual productive, then it can be called by no other term," Arthur stated with snide sarcasm. His wit turned to surprise when two arms abruptly grabbed him around the middle and pulled him back.
"Ah, Mon cher, there is nothing that can be done about our differences," the newcomer purred into Arthur's neck, blue eyes smiling up at the smaller man from his comfortable nook. "A pity, but it would appear that war will forever be our nature, non?"
"France!" Arthur yelped, face bright red and trying to twist away. "You bloody git, get your hands off me!"
Watanuki stared at the shameless man as he slid his hands under Arthur's jacket, making it ride up to show his stomach. He glanced quickly around the room to see if anyone else noticed or cared about what was happening, and came to the conclusion that they were probably all too used to such occurrences. When he looked back to the struggling three blonde's, one laughing, one struggling, and one molesting, he had to stop and take a closer look at the exposed patch of skin, squinting at the area. What looked to be thin, spidery lines crawled over the pale skin flesh like scar, glowing lightly enough to blend in with the peach coloured background.
"Don't worry Iggy," the glasses wearing one snickered, laughing so hard that he staggered when he tried to walk, "I'll save you!"
"Oh stay back Alfred!" Arthur growled, hands trying to pry off the Frenchman's. "You'll only make the situation worse!"
"Ah, cheri, you hurt me so," the tallest blond said sadly, pouting at the green-eyed man. "Is this truly so bad?"
"Yes!" Arthur cried, twisting his body violently and suddenly, not noticing the Seers eyes following his stomach. Doumeki watched the show with a raised eyebrow and mused that Watanuki was more entertaining, but this worked well enough while his own amusement was out of action.
"Ah, not to be... rude, but what are those?" Watanuki asked, his voice small and uncertain, pointing at the exposed skin. Doumeki blinked and looked, not seeing anything other than a belly and the button that went with it. Arthur mimicked him, followed by the French blond and Alfred. 'France' hitched Arthur's shirt up further (much to Watanuki's pity and dismay; he did not envy the man), and Alfred leaned forward.
"I.." Alfred began after a moment of silence in their small group, "don't see anything."
"Neither do I," France murmured, letting the green jacket drop back over his arms and continued to explore the seemingly familiar expanse of chest and abdomen.
Only Arthur stared harder at himself, ignoring his overly close companion in favour of looking harder at himself. Finally, the lines became visible and he straightened his posture in the Frenchman's hold, releasing the wrist and tracing them, recognition dawning of his face.
"Oh, those." Watanuki nodded, some of his usual energy returning from its impromptu vacation. "Those are nothing to be worried over. They're just my borders."
"Borders...?" Watanuki repeated slowly, confusion seeping into his expression. When Arthur hurriedly changed the subject, Doumeki chose not to comment, but narrowed his eyes and frowned. Watanuki opened his mouth to say something else, but someone bumped into him from behind (they had managed to gravitate away from the wall during Arthur's dilemma) and he fell to the ground with a strangled squeak. The perpetrator gasped and went down a second after him, barely managing to throw out his hands and catch himself before their bodies collided.
"I'm so sorry!" Watanuki groaned, rolling over gingerly, lifting his bad foot off the ground as he moved. He saw the long haired man who had noticed Honda-san leave the room earlier, shifting himself to sit on his heels, holding out a hand. The tall white haired man came up behind him, his seemingly perpetual smile still in place. Watanuki offered a tight smile and accepted, ignoring Doumeki's sharp movement and tense posture.
"I'm sorry, aru," the other Asian apologized again, smiling sheepishly. Watanuki shook his head and limped back until he was standing just in front of Doumeki.
"No, it's fine." Watanuki noticed the same thin lines tracing light, unnoticeable trails over the tanned skin as well, his darker to accommodate for the skin tone. Then he looked at the Russian man and observed similar markings. Shaking his head he allowed a reassuring smile to curve on his lips. He was ready to speak again when another man, another Asian man with short black hair and an odd looking curl, pounced.
"Aniki's breasts are mine!" he yelled, hands groping at the smaller man's chest. "Take that Russia!"
He was thrown off with a shriek from the assaulted.
"Im Yong Soo! Not only is this no place to do things such as that, but those advances are entirely unwanted!" Amber eyes glanced to the hulking Russian, heavily dressed despite the heat. "Besides, Ivan looks like he's going to murder you soon."
Any refute was cut off by Honda-san walking up to the group, looking first towards the group of fellow representatives, then turning to the two other Japanese citizens. "Watanuki-san, Doumeki-san, is something the matter?" he inquired politely, white uniform a little less pristine than before, and the parcel held securely in his hands, the cloth hastily tied and messier than before.
"Of course-"
"He fell down the stairs," Doumeki interrupted, poking Watanuki's cheek. The smaller boy huffed and swatted at the older boys hand, pouting.
"Jackass," he grumbled.
The Greek man from the conference room meandered up behind Honda-san, lazily wrapping his arms around the Japanese mans waist and resting his chin on the head of dark hair. Kiku's cheeks flushed lightly and a swarm of cats following the Greek man crowded around them feet, purring and meowing quietly, rubbing their bodies against the two's ankles and feet.
Arthur snorted and crossed his arms, shooting a smirk at the Japanese man. "In a bit of a bind are you, Kiku-san?"
"Like you're in a better position Iggy," Alfred teased with a grin. The Frenchman smirked and tightened his hold on the Englishman, glancing at the other side of the room and abruptly picking Arthur up in his arms, ignoring the startled shout and carrying him away, calling to a small, bespectacled darker haired blond holding a tiny polar bear to his chest.
"Mathieu!" he called, smiling widely at the boy. Watanuki saw Arthur relax slightly at the sight of him and offer a strained smile. He also caught Mathieu greet the larger man, calling him Francis with a soft voice and a sweet smile. Alfred shot off after them with a grin, pouncing on the new addition with a loud cry of 'Matty!'
Out of nowhere a large, dark skinned man barreled out of the conference room (just in range of sight from the group of blondes) with a loud yell and a lunge at Alfred, shoving the smaller man to the side and scooping up the smallest blonde, still cradling the white bear to his chest. The two raised their voices nonsensically, yelling back and forth with Mathieu in the middle. Francis and Arthur shook their heads bemusedly, the contrasting couples position mimicking their own.
The Greek ignored everything going on and closed his eyes dozing lightly on Kiku-san. The Chinese man seemed to give a reluctant smile at the sight and Ivan caught it, mimicking the brunet's actions and draping himself over the (much, much) smaller man with a wide, childish grin.
"Little Jao is so cute," he cooed, joining them by their necks with the white scarf. Yao squeaked and Im Yong Soo wailed pitifully, moving to thump on the Russian's arm with his fists. He was restrained by a stoic man that appeared behind him, forcing him away wordlessly before anything else could be done to agitate the situation. Yao sighed with relief and turned to the ignored duo with a tired smile, bowing as much as he could in the arms of the Russian after unwrapping the scarf.
"I apologize for the delay, but my name is Wang Yao, the Chinese representative."
Watanuki breathed deeply to relax himself and returned the action, grabbing onto Doumeki so he could bow and noting the taller boy nod his head, introducing them both. "Watanuki Kimihiro, and this lug is Doumeki Shizuka."
"A pleasure," Yao said with a smile. A loud crash from the other side of the room made him wince and shoot a stern look in that direction. "Im Yong Soo! Get away from that this instant!" He sighed and turned back. "I apologize, but would you excuse me? I have a younger brother to put back in line."
"Not a problem. It was nice meeting you," Watanuki replied, a genuine smile curved on his lips. Yao bowed again and whipped out the turtle shell wok he had used in the conference room before, smacking the taller Asian man over the head when he reached him and scolding him in quickly spoken Cantonese. The hulking white haired Ivan followed him with a wide, childish smile that set Watanuki on edge.
With wide eyes he turned so he faced more towards Doumeki, smile still in place. "I think we should go now."
Doumeki nodded sharply; enthusiastically, in Watanuki's slightly biased opinion.
They were in the middle of their escape from the masses when something white and large passed through Watanuki's peripheral view. He jerked to a sharp stop and stared, head slowly tilting to one side until his ear brushed against Doumeki's shoulder.
"I-Is that a Unicorn...?" Watanuki stared for a few seconds then vigorously shook his head, muttering a string of 'no' under his breath and turning abruptly. He tried to usher his crutch forward faster, then froze again, eyes sliding to the side first, then the rest following. In his right eye Doumeki caught a flash of a large white horse, head lowered as it stalked forward, eyes fixated intently as it approached. A fairy hovered alongside it, eyes flashing in a manner that could only be termed as predatory and a gnome (or something similar...) with a creepy grin following suit. Arthur stared in their direction with incredulous eyes, watching his near constant companions leave his side and take an unexpected course of action.
Doumeki vaguely contemplated picking Watanuki up and running. The thought only lasted a second before he followed through with it, taking long strides down the hall and ignoring the hissed protests.
A tomato flew past them and splattered against the wall with a loud, messy 'splat.' A loud, annoyed, and angry cry proceeded it, something in rapid Italian to a man named Antonio (from what the half-listening Doumeki could make out).
He ignored that too.
Watanuki wrapped his arms around Doumeki's neck and clung to the exorcist desperately, curling into him as the deceiving creatures advanced, nestling his face against the taller boys collarbone. He muttered quietly against the darker skin and only pieces registered in Doumeki's brain. Mainly the words 'stupid', 'fairytale', 'I wish', and 'spirits.' He also thought he heard his given name at one point, but it also could have been Watanuki muttering 'shoot a bazooka.' You never knew with him.
IV
When they finally made it back to the shop, Yuuko grinned at them from her lazy lounge on the chaise.
"Did you have fun?" she purred happily, grinning devilishly at the glare her worker shot her. Doumeki had switched Watanuki's placement in his arms at some point in time during their return trip. Instead of carrying the entirety of the slender boys weight completely in his arms in a bridal style hold, he gripped the thin thighs and wrapped Watanuki's legs around his waist.
Doumeki thought it was safe to say he had never seen the other boy so red before.
...He liked it.
"I hate you," Watanuki grumbled, dropping his head against Doumeki shoulder with a groan, wishing he could melt into the floor and cease to exist. A spot of dried red juice covered the tips of his hair, where the tomato had splashed onto him. The bits on his cheek had rubbed off before too long.
Yuuko giggled, running a fingertip along the rim of her condensation covered glass before pulling it up and sipping at the beverage. "So," she murmured, mocking mirth colouring her tone, "how did your first run-in with the nations go?"
"Nations...?" Watanuki stared at her curiously, then seemed to think better of it and shook his head fiercely. "No, I don't want to know! I was almost eaten by a unicorn, a fairy, and a gnome, I don't need to think of the implications of meeting England, and China, and Russia, and France, and I certainly don't need to remember how Francis grabbed Arthur like that, and- No. Just no."
Doumeki stared, blinking, and bounced the smaller teen attached to him, silently encouraging him to draw a deep breath and calm down.
"No border lines," Watanuki muttered after a couple seconds, deflating entirely in Doumeki's arms. "'M tired."
Without another word Doumeki turned and walked further into the house.
Yuuko struggled to remain composed for a millisecond after he turned, then burst out laughing when the door slid fully shut. Mokona smiled smugly from his place near her stomach.
"Two-hundred yen they'll get cozy in ten?" he asked conversationally.
"Make that five-hundred in five minutes, plus a minor tiff, and we have a bet," she replied, humming happily. Tilting her head back, she added as an afterthought, "I wonder if Lovi-chan and Antonio-kun made use of the items I sent them a while back? Do you think they enjoyed my gift?"
"Well, Antonio-san loved it, I'm sure, but Lovino-chan might have had a bit of trouble with it." The two chortled simultaneously and slammed the remainder of their drinks.
V
"Oi, asshole, what's this?"
Antonio looked up at his younger lover and grinned, jumping up from his seat to sweep the Italian into his arms. "Lovinito, you found it! I was looking so hard for it too!"
Lovino rolled his eyes at the over exuberant Spaniard and pushed against the dark chest with his palm. "Great, so it was missing, but why was it hiding in the back of the closet anyhow? There isn't anybody who can make use of it...Unless-"
"Silly Lovi," Antonio interrupted, silencing the smaller man with a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. "It's for you of course~! From Yuuko! Don't you remember?"
"YOU BASTARD!"
VI
And there is the end of it, because I can't think anymore, I've been struggling with it for months, and it's nearly two in the morning... And my Internet is currently down for whatever reason. I threw in the last bit of SpRo because they're my favourite pairing, and I couldn't help myself. Everyone is free to guess what it was that Lovino found, and what's in Kiku's box. A hint for Kiku is that it's for him and Hercules. ;)
Have fun all. Oh, and s2lou? I really hope you're happy with this, and I haven't utterly failed you. :3