Kay, I don't own Princess Princess nor do I own any of the characters. I daresay that if I did, it would be much longer and more romantically dramatic... with more pretty dresses. xD
Summary: Mikoto accepted the job offer for the money, but now he's getting much more than he bargained for, and he's finding that keeping his job a secret is easier said than done, and the least of his problems. AU Mikoto x Tooru, with hints of Yuujiro x Mikoto
Anywho, I know some people are a kinda out-of-character, but regardless of that, I hope that you will please read, enjoy and review.
Mikoto looked up at the ceiling, averting his eyes from the gaze of the inspector. "Remember why you're here, Mikoto. Remember the money." The pink-haired boy reminded himself. It was difficult, he found, to not squirm when a frightening yet also very… feminine man was looking you over, scribbling on a colourful notepad. He was trying hard not to move too much, and held a tight grip on the arms of his chair, hoping that he would be dubbed 'worthy' by the assistants running circles around him with measuring tapes and cameras. The boy desperately wished there was some other sort of job available to him, but apparently fit, hard-working 15 year-old boys are very difficult to employ. Perhaps it was because he hadn't had't any previous work experience, or maybe it was because he had just arrived in Kyoto a mere five days ago. Whatever the reason, though, this was the only job he could find, and he didn't intend to loose his only opportunity to support himself so that his mother could focus on the mortgage.
"So, Yutaka Miko-chan, is it?"
"It's Yutaka Mikoto. Not Miko." He interrupted the inspector. He refused to be referred to as a girl when he was clearly a guy.
The four female assistants all gasped in unison, showing that back-talk towards the tall blonde was simply not acceptable. However, the inspector merely perked an eyebrow and waved off the comment with his hand. "Yes yes, Mikoto." He mumbled, then quickly wrote something on his notepad and continued. "So Miko-chan," Mikoto twitched. "My name is Shihoudani Yuujiro and from this day forward, you will refer to me as 'manager'. Comprende?" He looked up from his notepad, and grinned mischievously at the young boy. Never in his life had he seen a boy who would be better fit to the job.
Mikoto's eyes widened, his brain unable to 'comprende' what had just happened. Or rather, his brain didn't want to comprehend what had just occurred. He had been hired by this… Shihoudani guy, and he would be working at the P-Room – the most popular Hostess club there was in Kyoto. Hostess. That in itself was worrying enough, but what really made the boy uncomfortable, was the 'trial outfit' he was wearing. The assistants donned the same dress as he, however Mikoto was sure that he didn't look nearly as attractive in a maid uniform as the women did. Furthermore, he was positive that long curly hair did absolutely nothing for him. However, Shihoudani did. He thought it did a lot for him. Unfortunately that was all that mattered.
"Miko-chan? Do you understand?" Yuujiro asked, suddenly worried about the growing look of fear in the young boy's eyes. He was sure that he had thoroughly gone over everything that warranted any sort of warning, and so the only conclusion that could be drawn was that Mikoto was still nervous about having to dress like a girl. Yuujiro grinned. He knew there was nothing else he could say to comfort the boy, and so he quickly decided that he should instead comfort himself via a flustered Mikoto. Stepping forward and clasping the small boy's hands, he looked into the worried pink eyes and smiled. "Miko-chan, I know for certain that you'll do a splendid job as a hostess. If anything at all is troubling you, just let me know." Mikoto gave a curt 'thank you' nod, still sour about being called 'Miko-chan'. "Now, should I again go over the sexual harassment safety preca-"
"No!" Came the loud answer from a flushed face. Mikoto had heard enough about the strange things that dirty old men might want to do to him, and frankly, he really didn't want to shatter his already broken innocence into a trillion pieces. "I- I'm perfectly fine, thank you. I understand the terms, and I am ready to start the job whenever you need me." He said, a forced smile shining on his face.
Yuujiro smiled back, mentally cheering for procuring a blush from the boy for the umpteenth time. "I'm glad to hear it. However," The manager suddenly took on a serious tone. "Whenever you smile, it should be a real smile, and not forced. Fake smiles are insulting." Mikoto nodded, not voicing the fact that any smile from him was better than no smile at all. "Now, your first day will be in two weeks, and your shift will be from seven until nine pm. You should be here at six o'clock though, so that you will have ample time to get ready and be introduced to everyone. You will be permitted to bring this set of clothing home, but you must wear it at work. You are dismissed."
Mikoto bowed politely, hiding his face which had contorted into a strange mix of frustration, anger and irritation. How on earth could Shihou- no, the manager manage to look so innocent but still bear such horrible news! "Thank you very much, I will see you tomorrow. Please have a good day." When he lifted his head, he attempted to give a real smile before spinning on the ball of his foot, his dress gracefully spreading out around him, and walking out the door. As soon as the boy exited the building, he took a sharp left into a small, dark alley and swiftly changed out of his costume and into his school uniform. Quickly looking over his workmanship, Mikoto bolted towards his new school. It was the first day he would be there, and if there was one thing he didn't want, it was to make a bad impression by being late. Granted, it would have been so much easier to get to the school and then change but, there was no way in hell that he was wearing a dress anywhere near any prospective friends. It was a new city, a new school, certainly a new job, and Mikoto didn't want to start this new life of his off on the wrong foot.