Author's Notes: Alright. Here we go. I got a request to do something with Watari and 003, so... here it is. It's gonna be multi-part, because it was starting to get kind of long. Lemme know if everyone's IC, please? I'm used to doing just Tsuzuki and Hisoka. Everyone cross your fingers and hope I get through this... multi-parters tend to kick my inspiration down -really- quickly.
Warnings? Yaoi coming up in later parts. Watari inventing weird things. Unbearably cute owls.
Enjoy!
===============
The Incident With the Owl
===============
Chapter 1: Contaminations
===============
It was another failure. Had the explosion that shook the lab not been evidence enough, the peculiar oozing quality that the powder had acquired seemed more than determined to make up for it.
With a resigned sigh, Watari rocked back on his heels to regard his newest attempt at a gender change potion. It had been supposed to remain in powder form until he added it to the appropriate chemical mixture, the combination hopefully achieving the as-yet-unattainable results, but...
"Oh, well," the blonde shinigami shrugged, reaching absentmindedly to scratch 003's fluffy head. "Tomorrow's a new day, right?"
Picking his way over the shattered remains of the lab equipment, Watari began the bare essentials of cleaning up after himself-- the chief was probably already having a fit because he wasn't at the meeting. And he'd been so -sure- that it would work this time, too...
Using an unbroken petri dish, he scooped the remaining powder into a smaller area, turning a beaker upside down to cover the mess. From the looks of it, whatever unexpected reaction he'd caused would leave a stain on the counter-- and there wasn't time to scrub it out now. Seizing the handle of a broom that leaned perpetually against the wall-- he'd learned to keep one handy-- Watari swept a brisk path to the door.
And then, lab coat still more black than white, hair straying in peculiar places from its habitual braid, the man slipped from the room and into the hallway, thoughts turned already to convincing the chief that the experiment truly -had- been worth the time it lost him. And, perhaps, the amount of pleading it would take for Tatsumi to consider funding for the destroyed equipment...
Forgotten inside the lab, a small owl perched blinkingly on the leg of an overturned chair. She wasn't sure what had put her human in such a hurry, but rather resented being left behind.
Fluffing herself to incredible proportions, 003 regarded the room curiously. Having been so abandoned so soon after the explosion had rattled her home, she quite considered sleeping out of the question. And so the only available option was to find something entertaining until her human returned.
Cocking her head curiously, the little owl peered toward the source of said explosion. They weren't uncommon in the white room that her human was so fond of, but the mess that this one had made was larger than usual. Taking wing, 003 flapped her way to the overturned beaker and landed flat-taloned on the counter beside it.
Peculiar, the way the stuff oozed its way out the bottom. Usually it stayed put.
Creeping closer, the little owl considered her options. Her human might be gone for some time. And this, at least, had potential to be interesting...
Pushing back any doubts-- the strange things that her human put together -never- exploded more than once-- 003 leaned in closer and nudged the beaker.
* * *
"We all agreed that Tatsumi would cook," Hisoka pointed out, standing purposefully between Tsuzuki and the stove. "It's safer that way."
"But, Hisoka!" the boy's partner whined. His eyes were huge, and pleading. "I want to help!"
"No." The young shinigami didn't budge.
"But--!"
"-No-." Hisoka fixed the man with a level-eyed stare that sent his partner stumbling back a step. "I want to survive dinner."
"Technically," Watari corrected cheerfully, bustling into the room. "We all would. Not even food poisoning can phase a shinigami!"
Ignoring the scientist's peculiarly enthusiastic pose, the boy frowned up at him. "That doesn't make it any better. I don't want him touching the food."
"Good for you, bon," Watari enthused, reaching out to ruffle the young shinigami's hair familiarly. "Saves me the trouble." With a grin and a wink, the man was gone, carrying clean dishes from the room to better prepare the table.
"You're all so mean," Tsuzuki pouted, scooping a small owl up from the counter in order to scratch under her chin. Delighted when the bird made a quiet cooing noise, the older shinigami beamed. "See-- -she- likes me."
"She doesn't have to eat your cooking," Hisoka pointed out acidly, moving to regard the small ball of feathers with suspicion.
"Aww, that's not fair! You should at least try my new udon recipe... you'll love it, really! I use my own--" Trailing off in mid-sentence, the violet-eyed man peered down at 003, frowning slightly. "What's this?"
Switching the little owl to the other hand, he regarded the finger where she'd been perched. Pressing it experimentally to the index finger, he pulled them apart again with no small amount of curiosity. "What do you have all over your feet?"
Sighing quietly and resisting the urge to wonder aloud why the owl had been in the kitchen to begin with, Hisoka moved without comment to retrieve a cloth from the sink. Fully intent on washing off the counter, the boy was caught mid-task by a voice from the doorway.
"Tsuzuki-san. Kurosaki-kun." Tatsumi stood in the doorway, regarding his guests with the barest hint of a smile. It didn't look convincing; the man was still trying to decide what had possessed him to offer his house for the day's meeting. After all, if the chief had been so intent upon a change of scenery, any number of locations would have been a better choice...
Suppressing a sigh, the secretary couldn't keep the command from his voice as he addressed his coworkers. "Why don't you both join the others in the dining room? I'd like to work without interference."
Hisoka didn't need more prompting; the vague annoyance that the man was projecting had been making him irritable since they'd arrived. Ignoring Tsuzuki's half-finished protest, the boy steered both partner and owl from the kitchen.
The cloth remained resting on the counter near the sink, unused.
* * *
The meeting was a success. Which is to say, no one fell asleep, nothing was broken, and no one complained about the food. Everyone was bored out of their minds, of course, but that was one of the expected dangers of a shinigami's line of work.
When it had finished, the chief had gone with record speed, claiming other work to attend to; shortly thereafter the other members of the summoning department had begun to filter out, singly or in pairs. At long last, Terazuma had succeeded in convincing his partner that it was past time to leave, and Wakaba had followed him from the house with no small amount of reluctance.
And so the small dining room was filled only with a cheerful scientist and fat little owl, the now-impatient host, a boy that was emotionally exhausted from spending too much time with too many people, and a man with dog ears, currently attempting to convince everyone present that dessert was absolutely necessary.
"Tatsumi...?" the violet eyed shinigami began again, tone pleading. "Cake doesn't take very long to make..."
"The food was just for the meeting," the secretary pointed out crisply. His neat handwriting spread its way onto a clean sheet of paper, carefully tallying the dinner items; had anyone cared to look, they wouldn't have been surprised that he was counting it as a company expense. "And the meeting is over." Fixing Tsuzuki with a calm blue stare, he phrased his question as more of a statement. "Don't you have work to be getting back to?"
"We do." All eyes turned with surprise to Hisoka, who was standing, his frown encompassing the whole room, but mostly meant for his partner. "Let's go-- he doesn't want us here, and I have a headache." And with that, the boy made for the door.
Three sets of eyes turned blinkingly after the young shinigami, fixing on the closing door.
"What's with bon?" Watari asked, petting 003 idly with one hand. He didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that she'd found her way there, or even to have noticed her lack of presence until well after he'd arrived.
"Dunno," Tsuzuki admitted, grabbing his trench coat from the back of his chair. "But I better see-- thanks for dinner, Tatsumi!"
And with that, the violet-eyed shinigami was gone from the room as well, leaving only Watari and the rather-irritated host. Presented with an opportunity and an empty room, the scientist tried on a grin. "Hey, Tatsumi-- how's our department doing on supply funding?"
For a moment, the man regarded his co-worker seriously, using the pause to adjust his glasses. "Not well enough for you to have destroyed your lab again," was the answer he decided on finally.
The blonde's grin became a little more strained as he disentangled his legs from the chair in order to stand. "Well," he offered with a little laugh. "Maybe we ought to talk about this later-- after all, there's work to be done, like you said."
"Indeed." Tatsumi watched curiously as the other man made a beeline for the door and flapped a quick wave. Raising his own hand in a less enthusiastic farewell, the secretary waited until the door was shut behind him before letting out the sigh that had been building up for most of the night.
Alone with the dishes, Tatsumi vowed to himself never to host a meeting again.
* * *
"What a -mess-," Watari tsked, lifting up the broom from its spot near the door. "I thought I cleaned up more of it than -this-."
The steady swish of bristles on the laboratory floor passed the time, and soon the man's thoughts were lost in a thousand possibilities for his next attempt-- until he came to the counter where the beaker had covered the failed experiment.
Cringing slightly, the shinigami toed the broken beaker, now scattered in pieces across the floor. It made a peculiar squishing noise, surrounded as it was by the remnants of the powder-turned ooze, and Watari sighed in resignation.
"It had to bubble out, didn't it?" he asked himself piteously, turning to begin a search for the dustbin.
Perched once again on the overturned chair, 003 hooted softly.
~end part one~
Warnings? Yaoi coming up in later parts. Watari inventing weird things. Unbearably cute owls.
Enjoy!
===============
The Incident With the Owl
===============
Chapter 1: Contaminations
===============
It was another failure. Had the explosion that shook the lab not been evidence enough, the peculiar oozing quality that the powder had acquired seemed more than determined to make up for it.
With a resigned sigh, Watari rocked back on his heels to regard his newest attempt at a gender change potion. It had been supposed to remain in powder form until he added it to the appropriate chemical mixture, the combination hopefully achieving the as-yet-unattainable results, but...
"Oh, well," the blonde shinigami shrugged, reaching absentmindedly to scratch 003's fluffy head. "Tomorrow's a new day, right?"
Picking his way over the shattered remains of the lab equipment, Watari began the bare essentials of cleaning up after himself-- the chief was probably already having a fit because he wasn't at the meeting. And he'd been so -sure- that it would work this time, too...
Using an unbroken petri dish, he scooped the remaining powder into a smaller area, turning a beaker upside down to cover the mess. From the looks of it, whatever unexpected reaction he'd caused would leave a stain on the counter-- and there wasn't time to scrub it out now. Seizing the handle of a broom that leaned perpetually against the wall-- he'd learned to keep one handy-- Watari swept a brisk path to the door.
And then, lab coat still more black than white, hair straying in peculiar places from its habitual braid, the man slipped from the room and into the hallway, thoughts turned already to convincing the chief that the experiment truly -had- been worth the time it lost him. And, perhaps, the amount of pleading it would take for Tatsumi to consider funding for the destroyed equipment...
Forgotten inside the lab, a small owl perched blinkingly on the leg of an overturned chair. She wasn't sure what had put her human in such a hurry, but rather resented being left behind.
Fluffing herself to incredible proportions, 003 regarded the room curiously. Having been so abandoned so soon after the explosion had rattled her home, she quite considered sleeping out of the question. And so the only available option was to find something entertaining until her human returned.
Cocking her head curiously, the little owl peered toward the source of said explosion. They weren't uncommon in the white room that her human was so fond of, but the mess that this one had made was larger than usual. Taking wing, 003 flapped her way to the overturned beaker and landed flat-taloned on the counter beside it.
Peculiar, the way the stuff oozed its way out the bottom. Usually it stayed put.
Creeping closer, the little owl considered her options. Her human might be gone for some time. And this, at least, had potential to be interesting...
Pushing back any doubts-- the strange things that her human put together -never- exploded more than once-- 003 leaned in closer and nudged the beaker.
* * *
"We all agreed that Tatsumi would cook," Hisoka pointed out, standing purposefully between Tsuzuki and the stove. "It's safer that way."
"But, Hisoka!" the boy's partner whined. His eyes were huge, and pleading. "I want to help!"
"No." The young shinigami didn't budge.
"But--!"
"-No-." Hisoka fixed the man with a level-eyed stare that sent his partner stumbling back a step. "I want to survive dinner."
"Technically," Watari corrected cheerfully, bustling into the room. "We all would. Not even food poisoning can phase a shinigami!"
Ignoring the scientist's peculiarly enthusiastic pose, the boy frowned up at him. "That doesn't make it any better. I don't want him touching the food."
"Good for you, bon," Watari enthused, reaching out to ruffle the young shinigami's hair familiarly. "Saves me the trouble." With a grin and a wink, the man was gone, carrying clean dishes from the room to better prepare the table.
"You're all so mean," Tsuzuki pouted, scooping a small owl up from the counter in order to scratch under her chin. Delighted when the bird made a quiet cooing noise, the older shinigami beamed. "See-- -she- likes me."
"She doesn't have to eat your cooking," Hisoka pointed out acidly, moving to regard the small ball of feathers with suspicion.
"Aww, that's not fair! You should at least try my new udon recipe... you'll love it, really! I use my own--" Trailing off in mid-sentence, the violet-eyed man peered down at 003, frowning slightly. "What's this?"
Switching the little owl to the other hand, he regarded the finger where she'd been perched. Pressing it experimentally to the index finger, he pulled them apart again with no small amount of curiosity. "What do you have all over your feet?"
Sighing quietly and resisting the urge to wonder aloud why the owl had been in the kitchen to begin with, Hisoka moved without comment to retrieve a cloth from the sink. Fully intent on washing off the counter, the boy was caught mid-task by a voice from the doorway.
"Tsuzuki-san. Kurosaki-kun." Tatsumi stood in the doorway, regarding his guests with the barest hint of a smile. It didn't look convincing; the man was still trying to decide what had possessed him to offer his house for the day's meeting. After all, if the chief had been so intent upon a change of scenery, any number of locations would have been a better choice...
Suppressing a sigh, the secretary couldn't keep the command from his voice as he addressed his coworkers. "Why don't you both join the others in the dining room? I'd like to work without interference."
Hisoka didn't need more prompting; the vague annoyance that the man was projecting had been making him irritable since they'd arrived. Ignoring Tsuzuki's half-finished protest, the boy steered both partner and owl from the kitchen.
The cloth remained resting on the counter near the sink, unused.
* * *
The meeting was a success. Which is to say, no one fell asleep, nothing was broken, and no one complained about the food. Everyone was bored out of their minds, of course, but that was one of the expected dangers of a shinigami's line of work.
When it had finished, the chief had gone with record speed, claiming other work to attend to; shortly thereafter the other members of the summoning department had begun to filter out, singly or in pairs. At long last, Terazuma had succeeded in convincing his partner that it was past time to leave, and Wakaba had followed him from the house with no small amount of reluctance.
And so the small dining room was filled only with a cheerful scientist and fat little owl, the now-impatient host, a boy that was emotionally exhausted from spending too much time with too many people, and a man with dog ears, currently attempting to convince everyone present that dessert was absolutely necessary.
"Tatsumi...?" the violet eyed shinigami began again, tone pleading. "Cake doesn't take very long to make..."
"The food was just for the meeting," the secretary pointed out crisply. His neat handwriting spread its way onto a clean sheet of paper, carefully tallying the dinner items; had anyone cared to look, they wouldn't have been surprised that he was counting it as a company expense. "And the meeting is over." Fixing Tsuzuki with a calm blue stare, he phrased his question as more of a statement. "Don't you have work to be getting back to?"
"We do." All eyes turned with surprise to Hisoka, who was standing, his frown encompassing the whole room, but mostly meant for his partner. "Let's go-- he doesn't want us here, and I have a headache." And with that, the boy made for the door.
Three sets of eyes turned blinkingly after the young shinigami, fixing on the closing door.
"What's with bon?" Watari asked, petting 003 idly with one hand. He didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that she'd found her way there, or even to have noticed her lack of presence until well after he'd arrived.
"Dunno," Tsuzuki admitted, grabbing his trench coat from the back of his chair. "But I better see-- thanks for dinner, Tatsumi!"
And with that, the violet-eyed shinigami was gone from the room as well, leaving only Watari and the rather-irritated host. Presented with an opportunity and an empty room, the scientist tried on a grin. "Hey, Tatsumi-- how's our department doing on supply funding?"
For a moment, the man regarded his co-worker seriously, using the pause to adjust his glasses. "Not well enough for you to have destroyed your lab again," was the answer he decided on finally.
The blonde's grin became a little more strained as he disentangled his legs from the chair in order to stand. "Well," he offered with a little laugh. "Maybe we ought to talk about this later-- after all, there's work to be done, like you said."
"Indeed." Tatsumi watched curiously as the other man made a beeline for the door and flapped a quick wave. Raising his own hand in a less enthusiastic farewell, the secretary waited until the door was shut behind him before letting out the sigh that had been building up for most of the night.
Alone with the dishes, Tatsumi vowed to himself never to host a meeting again.
* * *
"What a -mess-," Watari tsked, lifting up the broom from its spot near the door. "I thought I cleaned up more of it than -this-."
The steady swish of bristles on the laboratory floor passed the time, and soon the man's thoughts were lost in a thousand possibilities for his next attempt-- until he came to the counter where the beaker had covered the failed experiment.
Cringing slightly, the shinigami toed the broken beaker, now scattered in pieces across the floor. It made a peculiar squishing noise, surrounded as it was by the remnants of the powder-turned ooze, and Watari sighed in resignation.
"It had to bubble out, didn't it?" he asked himself piteously, turning to begin a search for the dustbin.
Perched once again on the overturned chair, 003 hooted softly.
~end part one~
