Title: Baskets of Cookies
Summary:
Satoshi finds a basket of cookies outside his door. Daisuke's acting weirdly too. Just what is going on? Some Sato/Dai fluff for you this happy Valentine's Day. One-shot. Also SLASH, so if that offends you, don't read. Really, is it that hard?
Genre(s):
Romance/Friendship
Rating:
K/K+
Warnings:
Cookies, slash, and, surprisingly, no kissing. It felt... wrong. Out of context.
Disclaimer:
I don't own DNAngel, obviously, because, let me tell you, if I did, Daisuke would not have been kissing Riku at the end of the anime. Oh, no.
Notes:
Well, it's Valentine's Day. What better way to celebrate than with our fave cute couple ever? (Except perhaps Giripan... but that's Giripan.) Daisuke is selling cookies to reviewers! (And believe me, he makes really good cookies. Ask Satoshi.) This is anime-based, and probably isn't in the timeline quite accurately, but, eh. Please don't send me reviews that are simply You Suck Speeches, because that really hurts my feelings.

Please note that Satoshi's thoughts about romance are not necessarily mine, just what I think would make him more in-character. Anyway, read on!


Satoshi was just about to leave his apartment when he noticed it. It was on the doorstep, sitting innocently as a wicker basket could sit, the red cloth inside cradling the frosted cookies gently. He frowned. Why would...?

Krad muttered murderously in the back of his mind, death threats leaking from behind the thick barriers Satoshi had to imagine to hold him back.

It didn't matter. He picked up the basket, set it on a table inside the door, and left for school, striding down the hallway.


When Satoshi got to school, there was pink everywhere. Pink hearts, in fact, and pink streamers, and, for a change, red balloons. He checked the date on his watch, and a brief flash of irritation crossed his face as he realized exactly what day it was. The fourteenth of February. Valentine's day. The worst day of every year, simply because no one could concentrate and there was a small party at the end of the school day. He found this completely pointless.

Dodging through the early morning crowds of chattering students, he walked swiftly down the hall to his classroom, hoping that he could escape the idiocy. Alas, it was not so, because he got besieged by girls showering him — and his desk, didn't they know he had to use that? — with chocolates.

What is this, Satoshi-sama? Why are these... filthy creatures touching something that is mine? Krad's voice echoed across his mind.

It is a Western holiday that has interesting history but has been ruined by commercialism. Valentine's Day, a traditional day for giving chocolate or other treats to one's... romantic attraction. A complete waste of time, Satoshi replied, contempt barely hidden. I would think you would know this after centuries of possessing the Hikari.

But you are also Hikari, no matter your last name, the curse whispered, his voice sliding against the walls. And you are mine. Never forget that.

I am not yours. I am my own person.

You are mine. And these humans have no right to you.

Satoshi ignored him and tried to pay attention to the sensei, who was starting class. Precisely two minutes later, the Niwa stumbled in, babbling something about rabbits on the roof, and she simply sighed and waved him to his seat, too used to his lateness to comment on it otherwise.

Niwa's face was decidedly flushed, and he seemed more nervous than normal. That could be, of course, because he was late, but he was late every day, and couldn't be much more nervous this time than other times. There was a slight look of triumph in his eyes, and Satoshi assumed that this meant that he had successfully asked Riku on a sickeningly sweet dinner date where all they would do was make disgusting comments to each other and give each other cow eyes. Pathetic.

Ah, Satoshi-sama, is that a hint of jealously I detect? You are mine, and the Niwa is of no importance; he is only your prey. Just let me out, and I will kill him for you. Perhaps we shall finally rid ourselves of that idiotic phantom thief as well.

Satoshi ignored him with the ease of practice.


Satoshi had almost forgotten about the basket when he got back to the apartment. It was still there, resting benignly on the table inside the door. He sorted through it, idly wondering who had gone to the trouble to making all these... things. They rustled against the cloth, and might actually have been slightly appealing, if Satoshi liked cookies and they weren't so... pink.

The note was tucked near the back of the basket, and his name was written in red ink on the front. He picked it up and opened it, pulling out the simple white card and barely glancing at the front before he flipped it open and began to read.

About ten seconds of reading, forty seconds of rereading, and two minutes of blank staring later, Satoshi blinked and carefully set it down.

Your reaction is most amusing, Satoshi-sama, but this note is not. How dare he presume to take what is mine by right of blood? Krad was spitting in fury now, his mental golden eyes flashing hatred at the innocuous piece of paper on the table as if he could will it to burst into flames with his eyes alone. He couldn't, not with just his eyes, but it was very possible that it would catch fire anyway, simply from the heat of his glare. You do not mean to go to this, Satoshi-sama. It wasn't a question.

Quietly, Satoshi put down his school bag and slipped on his shoes again, letting his silence be his answer. Krad pounded wrathfully on his barriers, and Satoshi resisted as he exited his apartment and walked down the stairs, snagging a cookie from the basket as another sign of defiance.


The walk to the fountain park wasn't long, nor was it short, and Satoshi found himself, before long, seated next to the railing and eating the last few bites of his cookie. The pale pink and white frosting wasn't damaged much in flavor from the coloring, and the cookies themselves weren't all that bad, either.

He was just licking the last of the frosting from his finger when a familiar spiky head of hair bobbed into view. A faint smile crossed his face, even as the pain in his head increased. It would be disastrous if Krad got loose in such a public place, and so he visualized iron doors with a large bar across them to hold him back.

"S-sorry," the Niwa panted "I'm — late, Hiwatari-kun."

"That's quite all right," Satoshi replied, the traces of his smile still glittering in his eyes. "I was curious if this was a trap, actually. Because, so far, it seems to not be."

Daisuke grinned that grin that lit up the air around him and probably hurt at least a little, and said, "Nope. Dark's pouting about how it isn't, but I'm not listening to him anyway."

"Good. Shall we go, then?"

Daisuke's only response was to reach out a hand. Satoshi grasped it, and was hauled up by the Niwa's incredible strength, no doubt from the thieving training his mother put him through since childhood.

Instead, however, of just being pulled to his feet, he was pulled further than necessary, and ended up knocking the both of them off balance. He landed atop Daisuke's chest, and found himself blinking in surprise at just how close the redhead's face was. Satoshi tried scrambling to his feet, but was held back by the other boy's hand on his wrist. The Niwa smiled a soft, warm smile that seemed to be meant only for him, in that moment, in that place, and Satoshi attempted to banish the fuzzy thoughts before they could infect the rest of his brain.

The key word here is attempted.

Satoshi found himself helped up — more cautiously this time — brushed off, and dragged in the general direction of an ice cream shop. Why the redhead wanted ice cream in the middle of February was anyone's guess, but Satoshi just went along with it, his eyes bright in amusement.

Deep, locked away far in the back of Satoshi's mind, Krad screamed in utter outrage and loathing. He was ignored.