Agony in Pink House
Author's Notes- Hurrah, I just recovered my flash drive, which means I can get on with some ongoing fics I worried might be gone forever. While reorganising everything back onto my computer, I came across this extremely cracky fic which I never uploaded here. It started off as a scene in a humour fic about YnM office parties, and then sort of took over. Contains slash, het, femmeslash and three-way relationships.. oh, and there's some play on anagrams that wouldn't work in Japanese- assume equivalent word play!
Disclaimer- I'm not on crack and I don't own any of the recognisable characters or concepts. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. Oh, I think the strawberry tart thing is based on a Phil Jupitus joke and the title is a reference to Agony in Pink. If you don't know it, it's an infamous, very squicky torture fic, although I have a feeling Tatsumi would take all the occurrences in AiP over the worst that Saya and Yuma can do..
- - -
Ah, just a normal day in the Summons Department..
Tsuzuki came striding in perfectly on time, wearing an impeccable designer suit that was, for once, not decorated with cake crumbs. Saya and Yuma were there for some reason, wearing bikinis and waving guns while dancing in a slow, provocative manner to the sound of Tsuzuki's smoochy-yet-ominous theme tune playing somewhere overheard. He made his way to the department, leaving a trail of melting females in his wake and tossed his hat casually across the room to land perfectly on a waiting hat stand.
"Ah, Agent Tsuzuki," Konoe had somehow developed a clipped English accent and appeared to have got over his grudge regarding a recent, unfortunate banoffee pie related incident. "I have a new mission for you. Your most dangerous yet."
"Just my kind," he said, wiggling an eyebrow in a particularly suave manner. "I'll take it."
"Oh, Tsuzuki!" Watari came rushing in, looking harassed. He threw open a suitcase. "I have a few handy little Tsuzuki-gadgets for you."
He pulled out an assortment of seemingly common objects, easily concealed on the person. This included a pair of fluffy pink leopard-print handcuffs (guaranteed unbreakable, played the soothing tunes of David Hasslehoff to calm down apprehended demons). A copy of a porno magazine (at the press of a concealed button, the paper acted like a one-way mirror, allowing Tsuzuki to spy on suspects while appearing to be innocently reading Boobtacular Anal Lesbo Babes). And a novelty maribou man-thong, which by simply pressing the rhinestones in the correct order, unfolded to become either garroting wire or an unbreakable wire and grapple. This one was long overdue for speedy bedroom getaways, when gorgeous Ivana Killyouski had finished giving away her boss Professor von Evilness's secrets during bedroom talk, and proceeded to start strangling that seductive Agent Tsuzuki between her lovely thighs.
"I also made a few last-minute adjustments to the Aston Martin," Watari said. "It now runs at 1000mph, flies, turns invisible, has built-in ground-to-air missiles and can create a fuel source on the go by converting oxygen directly into freshly baked triple-chocolate fudge cake."
"Excellent. Good work, Watari," Tsuzuki said.
Watari winced. "Just take better care of this one. And for goodness's sake, read the instruction manual 007.. er, Tsuzuki."
Before attempting to stop the evil corporate overlord Muraki Villainovich with a mixture of clever gadgets, suavely pulled off stunts and devastating one-liners, Tsuzuki paused at his favourite bar for a drink. His beautiful yet deadly gun-wielding companion Hisoka Sexylicious was already there, pouting sultrily into his drink while somewhere overhead, a female diva was wailing out Tsuzuki's theme tune 'This Cheesecake Is Not Enough' over a brass band. Tsuzuki took the bar stool next to Hisoka.
"Vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred. With chocolate sprinkles, marshmallows and one of those little twirly umbrellas."
He turned to Hisoka. "The name's Tsuzuki. Asato Tsuzuki."
The homme fatale looked up coyly, seductively blinked his long lashes, and.. gave him a withering look. "You're dreaming, idiot."
- - -
Tsuzuki woke up feeling distinctly unsuave, wearing his most comfy jimjams and already running three minutes late for work. The reason why he was only running three minutes late was because Hisoka had been repeatedly smashing him over the head with a pillow for the last ten minutes demanding that he wake up.
When he got there, Konoe first yelled at him for being late, and then again for the recent banoffee pie incident. Watari had indeed invented a new gadget that he showed to Tsuzuki, convinced it would come in handy one day. To get over his frequent problem remembering to put two pieces of clothing on (one on the top half, one on the bottom) whilst in the throes of a scientific revelation, he had invented a revolutionary new piece of clothing that took care of both halves in one, covered most vulnerable body parts in layers of protective frothy material and could take the wearer from work to a night out. Tsuzuki gently informed Watari that his great invention was in fact an evening dress.
Tatsumi had came into Watari's laboratory just then to bother the shinigami about a recent discrepancy in his accounts (there was a debit for something called "Hunko Pies", which he thought Tsuzuki might be to blame. Who had been accountable for previous bills addressed to Sue Hopkin, Shoekunip and the dubious sounding Spunki E. Ho would forever be a mystery). However, upon notice Watari in an evening dress, he decided that "Hunko Pies" could wait, turned around sharply and marched back out.
Saya and Yuma were there, waiting just outside the labs. They weren't doing anything particularly sinister, except being there. Being fluffy. Being snuggly. Being female. Tatsumi paused for half a second, then turned around sharply once more, assumed his Busy Face, and marched decisively into the nearest storage closet.
"Mr Tatsumi?"
"Go away," he told them. "I'm checking for recent discrepancies in the.. broom budget."
There was a sigh, and after a minute or two of conspiratorial female whispering (during which, Tatsumi frantically ordered the shadows to barricade the doors, but for some reason they found this funny. Yes, it was a little known fact that shadows had a sense of humour), they finally left him alone. Tatsumi waited, suspiciously. Ever since mid-summer, Saya and Yuma had decided to spend all their free time visiting the department. He hadn't been able to escape them and he wasn't quite sure what was going on, except that it was something very, very female and probably very, very sinister.
The door opened. Tatsumi grabbed a nearby object and waved it in a threatening manner. Or, as threatening a manner as he could when facing down the department's most powerful shinigami and his twelve pet gods, armed with only a feather duster.
"Oh, hello," Tsuzuki said amicably. He was fairly unconcerned by the feather duster, which is probably a natural outcome of spending one's lifetime being chased by people wielding pitchforks and flaming torches. "Are you trying to hide from Watari too?" He climbed in and closed the door shut behind them.
"No," Tatsumi said. "Er.. according to my calculations, one of the broom heads should have lasted at least another six days before it was replaced. And I'm trying to work out what went wrong. What is Watari doing?"
"Sex change potion again," Tsuzuki said gloomily. "I had to leave Hisoka to fend for himself, it took me ages to get rid of the extra nose last time I ate something Watari had spiked. What are you hiding from?"
"Saya and Yuma," Tatsumi whispered. Tsuzuki looked sympathetic. Or maybe he was trying not to burst out laughing. It was difficult to tell when they were hiding in a dark broom closet. Tatsumi continued anyway. "I don't understand why, but they keep turning up in my office at all times."
"Put it this way," Tsuzuki said kindly. "If you had ponytails, Saya and Yuma would be pulling them." He paused. "Actually, they'd be forcing you into a dress. Same principle."
Tatsumi went to ask Tsuzuki what he was talking about, but just then, the door banged open. Hisoka was stood there, looking downright homicidal, but still mono-nosed.
"There's no room in here," Tsuzuki said, trying to think fat thoughts and take up as much space as possible so that Hisoka would continue on his way and leave them safely hidden. Tatsumi didn't let go of his feather duster.
"There you are!" Watari said triumphantly, descending on the three of them. "I did the morning Cinnabon run and got the last five.." He dropped a bag into Tsuzuki's hands and breezed along his way, eyes wide and innocent, blonde hair bouncing and undulating in a sudden wave of golden light. He couldn't have looked any more innocent if he'd left a trail of rainbows, sparkles and frolicking unicorns in his wake. Tatsumi made sure the feather duster was safely between himself and the cinnamon rolls.
"The last Cinnabons," Tsuzuki said wistfully. He briefly wondered if it was worth convulsions, extra noses, age changes, semi-permanent changes of hair colour and potential loss of non-vital but fun parts of his anatomy, all to have the last cake. It wasn't really a question. He took a deep breath, shut his eyes and prepared to take a bite.
"Why don't you ask one of your shikigami to test it?" Hisoka suggested, prodding the offending item with a dubious look. The cake looked back at him, as innocent and fresh and wholesome as a cake could ever look. Tsuzuki looked thoughtful. A second later, a large hellfire serpent was added to the broom cupboard. There was a flash of light and a puff of oddly sparkly smoke as Touda bravely took a potentially spiked cinnamon roll for Tsuzuki.
"Touda!" Tsuzuki said, as the smoke cleared. "You're so... butch."
Girl!Touda did indeed look like the stereotypical postergirl for a group called something along the lines of Angry Riot Dykes on Great Big Bikes, Going Around Smashing Things A Lot.
"Tsuzuki," Touda said quietly, looking down. "Is there a good reason why these... bosoms could have potentially endangered your life?"
"No," Tsuzuki squeaked.
"Were these.. bosoms," That word appeared to come with great difficulty. Apparently Touda and mammary glands did not go together very well. "threatening to destroy the world?"
"No," Tsuzuki admitted, and then stopped hiding behind Hisoka long enough to take a second look. "Well, maybe." Watari didn't do things by halves. Touda was stacked.
Touda turned back into a giant hellfire serpent. A giant, pink hellfire serpent.
"Ok," Tsuzuki said, rather nervously. He had never known that a giant, pink hellfire serpent could look so downright homicidal. "Well.. if you could just.. er, nip back to your own world, I'm sure it'll wear off soon."
There was the unmistakeable sound of Suzaku laughing, clear even from another dimension, followed by the also unmistakeable sounds of screechings, hair-pullings, biting and nail gouging from the cat fight to end all cat fights.
"So it works on shikigami.." Watari popped out of another nearby cupboard from where he had apparantly been spying on them. There was a clipboard in his hands and a pair of binoculars swinging from his neck. "Has anyone seen Terazuma?"
- - -
During all the fuss, Tatsumi had slipped away back to his office. Before leaving, he recovered the remaining spiked cakes before Tsuzuki absently ate them. He poked them with the feather duster, trying to think of any possible use for a dangerous, inedible cake, before reluctantly throwing them away and making a note to dock the exact monetary value from Watari's wages.
"I'm too old for this shit," Tatsumi said to the empty room, feeling enjoyably like a jaded old movie policeman, and somewhat missing the days when he could have worn a 1940s suit, a sharp hat and a permanent cigarette, without getting odd looks.
"What's going on?" Saya asked, appearing out of nowhere in an almost visible sparkly pink aura of glitter, fluff and dancing unicorns.
"Spiked cakes," Tatsumi said briefly. "Men in evening dresses. Shikigami with their possible first case of PMT ever encountered in several centuries of existence."
"Aww," Yuma said sympathetically. "Touda and Suzaku will get over it. Girls get bitchy sometimes. They just need to fight it out-"
"And then one of them will go too far and call the other one fat-"
"-then there'll be tears-"
"-and then there's wacky lesbian shenanigans," Yuma concluded knowingly.
"What?" Tatsumi asked, frozen, mostly by sudden naked images of Suzaku, a temporarily female Touda, Saya and Yuma, all in the sort of lesbian catfight that surely only existed in the porn that dreams are made of. And nightmares, in Tatsumi's case.
"I said, and then they go shopping," Yuma said patiently. "Cupcake?" She offered him a tray full of inexpertly iced pink cakes, decorated with edible Barbie stickers, edible glitter, edible heart confetti and gummy bunnies. A large glob of pink icing fell, almost in slow motion, towards Tatsumi's carefully balanced accounts. If this had been a film, Tatsumi would have thrown himself across the desk with a dramatic "Noooooooooooooooo!", taking the icing in the eye and sparing his accounts. But it wasn't, so he just watched in horror as it slid free and slowly splattered his hard work with pink sugar.
Tatsumi gave them his most intimidating look. The Thing, where he adjusted his glasses so he could look over them sternly, as they flashed menacingly. It was the sort of look that had been known to send Muraki home crying to his mother.
Saya reached over and poked his nose curiously, before giving it a dab with something he thought might have been a (glittery, strawberry scented) oil absorbing sheet.
- - -
Ten minutes of this, and they had finally left, leaving Tatsumi singing mournfully to a plant as he watered it. Hisoka gave him a very odd look, with good reason. He'd witnessed Tatsumi cackling over his 'money tree' and singing to it in a cracked voice on two occasions before, and it seemed to be something that only happened when Tatsumi was under great financial stress or had just had his frontal lobes spattered all over a wall by a rampaging demon thing.
"Is everything okay?" he asked as gently as he could, except being Hisoka, it still sounded like he'd just phoned the number to get Tatsumi involuntarily committed.
Tatsumi hissed at him, and pulled the small potted cactus closer. Hisoka blinked as something bounced off his empathy. Interesting. He'd never known that plants could feel fear.
"Oh.. you," Tatsumi blinked, then looked up at Hisoka craftily. "Not one of Them. You can help me find out what they want."
"You want me to read Saya and Yuma's minds?" Hisoka said, bleakly. "Ha."
Tsuzuki gave Tatsumi a blank look. "You're being pursued by two attractive young ladies. What's the worst thing that could happen to you? They weigh in at under two hundred pounds for the set!"
"What do they want with me?" Tatsumi said fretfully, to no one in particular.
"Oh!" Tsuzuki said, suddenly. "Right" He gave Tatsumi a knowing look. "You remember the baptism of snuggling, don't you?"
"Yes," Tatsumi said, unhappily.
"Well," Tsuzuki said, sounding like everyone's kindly uncle. "Sometimes, when girls like someone very much, they like to do a special baptism of snuggling. A naked baptism of snuggling-"
"I know what sex is," Tatsumi said, mildly annoyed. "But why me?"
"Well, you do have that whole sexy secretary image," Watari broke in.
"Yes, and that teacher voice-" Tsuzuki added, clasping his hands together, eyelashes fluttering.
"Oh, and the thing with the glasses!" Watari said excitedly, sounding almost faint.
"Hisoka?" Tatsumi asked miserably, hoping the down to earth shinigami wouldn't have suffered from the same group madness.
"Sorry," Hisoka said, with a shrug. "It is somewhat arousing."
Chief Konoe came wandering past. "Staff meeting?"
"We're just discussing how sexy Tatsumi is," Tsuzuki explained.
"Ah yes," Konoe said benevolently, patting Tatsumi on the shoulder. "We'd all hit it. Keep up the good work!"
Tatsumi saw one of the GuShoShin twins approaching in the distance and fled, babbling something about having to see a man about a dog.
- - -
Terazuma and Wakaba were in the corridor on the way to the library. Tatsumi temporarily stopped fleeing. He felt quite comfortable that they were too busy with their own sexual tension to notice him, and he was right. Unfortunately, Watari burst onto the scene a few minutes later, waving a bottle of something around. Tatsumi slipped out of the window with ninja-like stealth.
"I have the solution!" Watari announced, in the sort of tones that might be used to announce he had just bottled the cure for cancer. "For your little problem," he told Terazuma. "Sex change potion. It works on shikigami."
Terazuma gave him a puzzled look, which was shortly replaced by his usual-pissed off look once the 'sex change' part had really hit home.
"If you and your shikigami become female," Watari explained patiently. "Then perhaps it'll reverse itself, and you won't be able to touch men. Then, you two can.. you know. Hold hands."
"I did always want to.. hold hands," Terazuma admitted. "But.. I'll be a girl." He turned to his partner. His petite partner, dressed in her school uniform, all frills and lace and curls and bows and big sparkly eyes.
Her squeal was ear-piercing. "Hot lesbian sex AND Terazuma? Two of my very favourite things?"
Tatsumi was half way back to his office when he was overtaken by a stampeding Terazuma and Wakaba. He was fairly certain that Terazuma had not been female that morning. But then maybe it was just that disturbing tendency to notice girls that he seemed to have recently developed. Tatsumi hadn't been heterosexual that morning. Not that he was homosexual, either. More like Tatsumisexual, a comfortable state of existence where he fantasised about forever frolicking naked through a world made entirely out of money, skipping hand in hand with his very own money tree.
Watari peered out of a broom cupboard, watching them go. Tatsumi had never realised just how many broom cupboards there were in the building. Watari gave Tatsumi a nervous grin. "Before you kill me, i have to warn you that I have fully paid up after-life insurance. This'll hurt the budget as much as it hurts me."
"Lalala," Tatsumi said determinedly to himself, pretending Watari wasn't there.. "Time to water the dog. I mean, see a man about a money tree."
- - -
"I like Tsuzukis," Tatsumi reminded himself firmly, upon reaching his desk. In fact, just to be sure, he made a memo of it and stuck it above his desk. Tatsumi liked making memos. True, they usually involved yellow Post-It notes with messages along the lines of "Investigate whether teabags are recyclable" and very rarely involved that photocopy of Tsuzuki's arse that had made its way around the office after last year's Christmas party. The photocopier had never quite been the same after that, but for some reason Tatsumi had been surprisingly good natured about adding the price of a new one onto the budget. He had told himself he just didn't have the heart to bother Tsuzuki about it while he was having bits of glass picked out of his anatomy by a slightly drunken Watari.
There was an explosion outside the window. Tatsumi took a deep breath, and leaned out. He would regain control. He would.
"I thought I heard.. frivolity," he told them, sternly. "Merriment, even."
Yuma enthusiastically blew a party whistle and hit him on the end of the nose.
Oh, the madness and disorganisation and reckless use of party whistles clearly designated for office party use only! And what was that in the distance? Muraki and Tsuzuki battling away with magic and shikigami and well-aimed spiked cinnamon rolls?
"I KAST MAGIC MISSILES!"
"PIKA- no, SUZAKU! I choose YOU!"
"Everyone is fired," Tatsumi decided to himself. The money tree looked at him sadly. "Except you, of course," he told the plant, hugging it once more.
"You are very silly, Mr Tatsumi," Yuma said reproachfully. It was not an adjective he had ever heard used in connection with himself. Fortunately, she was spared whatever horrible fate might have happened after a hole opened in space and time, and two shikigami came rolling out, blood and fire and handfuls of hair flying everywhere. Muraki stood there patiently, while the two carried on fighting and ignoring him.
"Umm.." Tsuzuki shifted, awkwardly. Touda and Suzaku were still fighting. "If it's not too much trouble?"
"You heard him, snake," Suzaku said, now sat on Touda and enthusiastically yanking his/her pony tail. "Remember how Tsuzuki saved you."
Touda went white. "I'll be good."
He remembered..
- - -
"Heeeere, little snakey snakey snakey!"
Touda had to give the human credit. Whoever it was, they were really determined. In fact, they had spent the last hour hiding behind a pillar trying to coax Touda out by waggling what appeared to be a strawberry tart on a piece of string. Touda wasn't sure whether to be insulted by the logic behind it (or maybe not- come to think about it, that probably was how the shinigami had caught Byakko), or bemused that Tsuzuki had chosen a strawberry tart of all things. Inexplicably (especially since he'd been imprisoned since long before anyone had even idly considered the concept of television), the voiceover from an animal documentary entered his mind. Ah yes, out here on the merciless savannah, a large strawberry tart is drinking from the oasis. She is unaware that her six tartlings may be left orphans today, for in the shadows, the fearsome Hellfirus Serpentia is stalking its natural prey..
"Don't be afraid. I just want to be your friend," the shinigami said again, in a plaintive and quite sinister manner. Touda peered cautiously around the corner.
"RARRGH!" Tsuzuki leapt out from nowhere, and successfully caught Touda. With a small butterfly net, over his head.
"Come on.." Tsuzuki said, now attempting to forcibly drag an unwilling, bemused and naked shikigami out of the dungeons. "I'm trying to set you free, you big stupidhead."
That was the point at which Touda gave up and let himself be dragged out to freedom. Not that he had any particular objection to freedom in the usual sense, just when it involved being dragged around by the most alarming, if well-meaning shinigami that he had ever met. Stupidhead.
"Can I keep him?" Tsuzuki sang out cheerfully, upon spotting SohRyu. "He's all lonely.. look at those melting brown eyes-"
Touda was fairly certain his eyes had been an unholy shade of red last time someone had pointed at them and ran away screaming.
"-and that sad little face!"
Touda would have gladly thrown himself back into a dungeon if only Tenkuu had helpfully provided one in the immediate vicinity.
"Tsuzuki," SohRyu said firmly. "He killed everything for a thousand miles around. Armies on both sides, the wounded, medics, civilians, cute little passing bunnies, puppies and kittens.."
"Sad. Little. Face," Tsuzuki countered, just as firmly.
- - -
Back in the present day, Tatsumi had chosen not to point out that the employees should be working, Muraki shouldn't be here at all, and that Suzaku appeared to be just as enthusiastically taking part in the interdimensional catfight as Touda was. In fact, he chose not to say anything at all. He very quietly closed the window, left his office and spent the next three hours in the library.
Only to find, when he left, that Saya and Yuma were pursuing him. Again! They reminded him exactly of a couple of Terminators, except for the part where Saya and Yuma were pretty, petite Japanese girls and not 6'2 unstoppable killing machines. Come to think about it, Tatsumi would have preferred being hunted down by a T850. At least the worst it could plan on doing to him was killing him for a second time. And although company policy was not very clear on how to deal with fictional, futuristic cyborgs, he felt quite comfortable that he would be able to fight it off it with shadows without worrying that he might get a substantial paycut for dismembering two employees (and the bill for shampooing bits of Saya and Yuma out of the carpet).
Tatsumi realised he'd just spent the last few minutes comparing Saya and Yuma to Arnold Schwarzenegger, and thought perhaps he should start using some of the 615 sick days/paid holidays/duvet days (the last was quite a new policy in the Judgement Bureau, and one that Tsuzuki and Watari had fought for with the fervor of a couple of suffragettes) that he had accumulated during the past few decades of loyal service. But first, he would face his fears. He took a deep breath. Girls couldn't be any worse than sociopathic doctors, coworkers giving birth to large snarly demons through their spine, someone drinking two cups over their allocated monthly teabag budget, or any of the other miscellaneous horrors that he had faced down and systematically shredded over the years. He turned around and steeled himself to face down the two evil harpies.
"Good afternoon, Mr Tatsumi!" they sang out in union, parting around him like a fluffy pink Red Sea and continuing on their way. Tatsumi blinked a lot.
"Why are you following me?" he blurted out. They stopped, and turned around in perfect union. He was reminded somewhat of the sinister twins from The Shining, except if the sinister twins had actually been two identical Terminators in little party dresses, and if the Terminators in little party dresses had actually been two petite Japanese girls in Pink House, and-
"We're not following you," Saya said, looking honestly perplexed and Tatsumi didn't believe it at all.
"Maybe you're just noticing us more!" Yuma squeed. "Why do you think that is Saya?"
Tatsumi growled, quite audibly.
"Oh, Mr Grumpypants!" Yuma said, sadly. "You are having a bad day. I think you need a holiday!"
"We're staying in a really nice hotel nearby," Saya added. "But they accidentally booked us in as three guests-"
"Wasted.." Yuma said, sounding even more upset, as though the waste of the department's money really did fill her with sadness. Tatsumi looked at them suspiciously.
"We're just being friendly," Saya blinked. "You know us. Great big hearts." She illustrated this point by patting her great, big..
For the second time that day, Tatsumi found himself hiding inside a broom cupboard. Saya and Yuma resumed talking outside, sounding quite reasonable.
"Over 23,000 yen per day worth of quality accommodation going unused! Whatever will we do, Saya?"
"I don't know, Yuma. I guess it'll just have to be wasted.."
Tatsumi was noisily pretending to count broomheads, aware that on one shoulder, an imaginary sheaf of yen notes was poking him with a trident, while on the other, an imaginary, miniature Tsuzuki was dancing around naked gleefully and reminding him that girls were bad news.
"Oh wait!" Yuma sounded inspired. "Maybe we could stay with our darling Hisoka, while Tsuzuki and Terazuma take our places! Wakaba too!"
"What a good idea! What better place for them to resolve their differences than in a LARGE EXPENSIVE HOTEL filled with antiques?" Saya replied, noisily. From the sound of it, she appeared to be pressed up right against the broom cupboard door and shouting at the top of her voice.
- - -
And that was how Tatsumi found himself somehow agreeing to spend a night or three in the same building as the Hokkaido duo. If anyone had asked Tatsumi, it was less 'agreeing' and more 'being forcibly kidnapped', except he suspected any law enforcement might have trouble believing him if he came into a police station carrying one under each arm and claiming they were capable of taking anyone by force.
Still, there were perks. He cheered up somewhat when he arrived there, went snooping into the bathroom and emerged with armfuls of complimentary goodies. In Tatsumi's world, complimentary meant anything that wasn't actually nailed down, surrounded by Doberman dogs and a moat full of flaming hot magma. He thought that between them, they could just about manage most of the removable fixtures in the room, all the bathroom toiletries, the contents of the fridge, the provided rubber duckies and a couple of paperclips he found under the bed. And free room service! As soon as he'd set his suitcase down, he immediately ordered Saya and Yuma to order something (if they rushed, they could fit in two square meals and snacking before room service finished for the night- then up at five, in time to order three of everything for breakfast)
He sat down, then immediately leapt back up and extracted a bra from the seat. A pink bra, decorated with ribbons and sequins and maribou fluff and everything else girly in the world. He heard foosteps and immediately threw the offending article behind a sofa to avoid being caught with it.
"Have you seen my bra?" Saya asked, popping her head around the door. Her head, neck and shoulders, all very naked-looking. "It was right there."
Wonderful. Now, instead of being caught holding a bra, it looked like he'd stolen it instead. It was somewhere around that point that he decided to start drinking heavily, and some time after that that he found himself drunkenly declaring he didn't care any more
"You've only had one sweet sherry," Saya said, perplexed.
Tatsumi opened one eye. "Hopelessly drunk," he said again, firmly. "Don't know what I'm doing. Can't even stand up. Take me now."
- - -
Two hours later..
Saya collapsed onto his shoulder, Yuma's head resting against her own. Tatsumi squeezed experimentally. Squishy, nice, faint hint of strawberries and candyfloss and rainbows and kittens and everything else girly. Nothing evil happened. They didn't suddenly explode, transform into harpies and start cackling and stealing his soul, or beat him up and steal his wallet (the last, of course, being by far the worse of the outcomes Tatsumi had imagined)
"Have you worked out what Hunko Pies, Sue Hopkin, Shoekunip and Spunki E. Ho are yet?" Saya asked, very quietly.
"They're all anagrams of Pink House," Yuma whispered. "We used your staff discount to order them as uniforms."
"Lalala," Tatsumi said determinedly, pulling the sheets over his head and pretending he hadn't heard anything at all. A sudden thought struck him, while he was down there. He mentally worked out how long they'd been here, and when summer would be ending, and cautiously emerged from under the sheets. "You go back to Hokkaido in three days?" he asked. Films had taught him that at this point, girls would usually burst into tears and beg men not to leave them.
"Yeah," Yuma said comfortably. "Another six months snowed in with Saya. Thank goodness for lesbianism and downloading hardcore pornography."
"Aww," Saya said, squeezing Tatsumi's cheek in a way that no one had done since he was a five year old in knickerbockers. "You'll be fine. You get to live here with Tsuzuki-"
"Yes.." Tatsumi said, cheering up slightly. "I suppose I do."
"-and Terazuma, he's got that whole sexy policeman thing going on, except not at the moment because he's a girl. Sexy police-woman, then. And Watari has all that hair. And our darling Hisoka! And-"
"I think you'll manage," Yuma said, patting Tatsumi on the head thoughtfully. She looked pensive. "You do have internet access, right?"