Disclaimer: Digimon is not my property.
I.
"Look how pretty!" Miyako skidded to a sloppy halt in front of the small side table by the bed. She pressed her face as close as she dared, admiring the single blossom that arched elegantly toward the weak winter sunlight streaming into Daisuke's room.
Hikari followed behind her, nearly checking Miyako into the wall in her eagerness to get a closer look, "Daisuke, it's so beautiful! Why do you have it?"
"Why?" The goggle boy asked, tilting his head with a frown, "What do you mean why?"
She tore herself away from the flower to explain, walking carefully back down the narrow space between wall and bed, only to have Iori take her spot beside Miyako immediately. He gazed pensively up at the exotic bloom, while Hikari tucked a strand of hair behind her hair and said, "I mean, is it going to be a present for your mom or for Jun or for…" she trailed off, catching herself before she said me, and turned back to the flower to hide her embarrassment.
Daisuke was too busy scoffing at the notion of giving a flower to his sister to notice.
"Nah, it's mine," he said, with a finality that drew Iori's attention.
"Do you know how to take care of this thing? I mean, it's not some goldfish you won at the fair. An orchid like this must have complicated needs, and you don't seem like the botanist type."
"It's not that hard. Sheesh, a guy can't even have a flower around here without getting the third degree—" but Daisuke found himself talking to his friends' backs, as Miyako, Hikari, and Iori had all managed to squeeze in front of the bloom, Miyako cooing with approval.
He threw up his hands in frustration, only to notice Takeru smiling strangely at him from the doorway, arms crossed on his chest. "What?" Daisuke asked, eyebrows raised, "You think I can't handle it either?"
Takeru shook his shaggy blond head, "It's not that," he said quietly, but the smile stayed in place.
"So then what is it, T.S.?" Daisuke jeered, missing the momentary scowl the insult brought to Takeru's face, only to be wiped away with the next breath.
"It's a nice color, that's all," Takeru said, casually pushing away from the door to join the others huddled at the table. He was a good guy, and had the tact to pretend he didn't notice how his leader's face had turned a red shade rich enough to rival the dark, shimmering purple vibrancy of Daisuke's new, rare orchid.
II.
"A Benignitas orchid," Koushiro pronounced, curious face pressed so close to the flower that the petals shook with each breath, "Prodigious! Well, actually, not prodigious at all, there aren't that many in the world."
"For real?" Taichi asked, face just as close, eyes wide, nose threatening contact, "Cool. How'd you get it?"
Daisuke frowned, tapping his foot on the floor. This was the second meeting about the problems they faced in rebuilding the digital world in as many days completely derailed by the flower. And all the questions that came with it. He didn't like lying.
Taichi's fingers made a move toward the long, trailing tail-like petals of the flower but before Daisuke could open his mouth to protest Yamato leaned forward from where he lounged on the bed and slapped the offending hand away, "Don't touch it, Tai."
Taichi backed away with a pout, and Koushiro followed him down the narrow aisle, joining Daisuke in the middle of the room. But Yamato didn't move. He'd chosen the bed over awkwardly hugging the wall as everyone else had done, and Daisuke had to admit it was picturesque, Yamato being more than easy on the eyes and the orchid being—"Perfect," Yamato decided, not turning his head from the flower. "It's perfect, Daisuke," he said, almost, almost, but not quite, smiling.
"I know," the younger boy answered, puffing up with pride.
"I didn't know you were such a horticulturalist," Koushiro said.
"What'd you call me?"
"Never mind."
"If it's so rare how'd you afford it?" Tai asked.
"I didn't," Daisuke admitted, "I found it."
Koushiro's mouth opened and shut, processing the unlikelihood of Daisuke, of all people, finding such a rarity in Odaiba in the middle of winter, and the improbability of anyone, but especially Daisuke, successfully transplanting such a temperamental flower directly from the earth into this particularly irresponsible teenage boy's bedroom, but before he could form an appropriate response Taichi chimed in with his own insight. He'd been staring, eyes narrowed in thought, at the well-defined lines, the symmetry, the elegant fringe, the inviting, silken petals, the tall and slender but strong stem.
"Is it just me," he asked, "or is it…kind of…" His dark eyes slid from the orchid to the blond on the bed.
"Sexual," Yamato supplied, returning Taichi's stare.
Koushiro let out a long-suffering sigh.
III.
Eleven unread messages. Daisuke groaned. The orchid—still very much alive, thank you—had survived two of his mother's kidnapping plots, a tug of war with his father (no doubt sent on the mission by his mom), and an assassination attempt by Jun. Then the bargaining had begun.
Taichi: Hey is that plant still alive? Can I buy it?
Miyako: Could I have that pretty flower, assuming you haven't killed it? I'll tutor you in return. In all your worst subjects. By which I mean all your subjects.
Taichi: I think it'll improve my sex life.
Koushiro: Would you consider lending me the orchid for a few experiments? I'm very curious as to how it survived in this climate. I would return it to you unharmed (assuming of course it hasn't died under your care).
Taichi: ^_~
Koushiro: Just please don't sell it to Taichi.
Iori: So did you kill it yet?
Yamato: Can I have that orchid? I like it. Unless you killed it already. Don't tell anyone I asked.
Kari: Daisuke, how's the flower?
Takeru: Have you told him?
Ken: You called?
IV.
Ken stood outside the apartment door, overnight bag slung over his slender shoulders, staring down at his shoes. He straightened out the welcome mat with a nudge of his toe, painfully aware of each passing second since he had first knocked. Maybe he should go. Nervous violet eyes gazed back down the hallway in the direction he'd come, wistfully. This lull had been long enough to indicate a certain lack of genuine enthusiasm at his visit, as if he'd been invited over out of Daisuke's sense of duty as the group's leader rather than—
"Ken!" In a flash Daisuke whipped open the door and grabbed Ken's wrist, snatching him from the hall into the apartment. Miraculously, he managed both to kick off his shoes in the entranceway and to bow to the Motomiyas where they sat together on the couch, bemused, all while Daisuke dragged him steadily by the arm toward his bedroom. By the time he'd been pulled inside, Ken was laughing, his anxiety forgotten, but the laughter stopped abruptly when Daisuke gestured to the corner of his room with a joyous shout of "Check it out!"
While Daisuke watched, chewing his lip with nervous energy, Ken approached the flower as one would walk toward a mirage. "My orchid," he said, softly, sitting down on Daisuke's bed in the same spot Yamato had chosen, running a pale hand up the dark green stem, mouth slightly open in disbelief.
"Daisuke, how did you get this?" Ken asked. Then he turned his face toward Daisuke to ask again when no response came.
But Daisuke couldn't answer, paralyzed by the sight of the violet eyed boy on the bed, on his bed, face still pink from the cold, houndstooth coat dusted with rapidly melting snowflakes, fine features perfectly complimented by the exceptional flower blooming happily beside him.
"Daisuke?" Ken looked ready to stand up to check on him.
At the threat of Ken leaving the bed, Daisuke inhaled and with a purposeful bounce on his toes, revving up the engine, he tried to recover his usual buoyancy, "Sorry. I, uh, I got distracted. You know me. I, um," Daisuke swallowed hard, and shook his head, a dog just out of water, and made a second attempt, "I actually found it in the DigiWorld and brought it back here. For you."
Ken just stared back. Daisuke sat down beside him on the bed to explain, "I mean, of course it's for you. It's yours. But I, um," plucking at invisible threads on the comforter, "I've been going there on my own to try and find some of your stuff. You know, from the base. You had so much there and I felt kind of bad, you losing everything. I figured something must've survived. And I was right!" Daisuke beamed, "It's like I could sense it out there, just sitting in its pot in the middle of the desert. I remembered it too, from when you took me prisoner."
That Daisuke could look Ken directly in the eyes and bring up something so horrific without flinching, without a glimmer of anger in his sweet brown eyes, was startling. But Ken knew better than to think that that was the reason his heart suddenly seemed to double its pace.
"H-how do you think it survived?" Ken asked, looking back at the orchid, suddenly too shy to keep eye contact with Daisuke so close.
"If it can survive a week with me, it can survive an explosion. At least that's what everybody else believes," Daisuke leaned back on his hands, scowling, "Nobody thinks I'm good enough to take care of it. I mean, Koushiro and Iori and everyone went on and on about how rare and fragile and priceless and perfect it was, and how much of a screw up I am."
"They said that?"
"They don't have to. Anyway, you should take it back before I wreck it like everybody says I will," Daisuke roused himself from moping long enough to peek up and see Ken watching him, violet eyes calm and head tilted, listening. "It really is perfect," he added, an unnamed feeling making his breath catch when he looked into Ken's eyes.
Ken smiled wryly, "Actually it's not. Not that it isn't a fantastic example of the breed, but for a serious collector the color would be unacceptable."
"Yeah?" Daisuke said, reaching out a brave, steady hand to twist a strand of Ken's hair between his fingers, not quite purple, not quite blue, not quite black, "I think that's the best part."
"Then maybe you should have it," Ken breathed, letting Daisuke draw him closer for a kiss he hadn't realized he'd been waiting for.
Daisuke kissed him gently, eyes partially open and cloudy with desire, unwilling to shut out the sight of Ken's face so close. Dark lashes and porcelain skin over high cheekbones, long, shining hair sliding through his fingers. Beautiful, he thought, I'm not worthy of someone so…
"Nah, I really shouldn't," Daisuke whispered, breaking away guiltily, "You don't know how badly I can mess things up. I mean, it could end up in a bunch of mangled pieces on the sidewalk or—"
"Daisuke—" Ken brought his face to his friend's, nuzzling against him until Daisuke caught his lips in another long kiss, this time less gentle as the boys pulled each other closer.
"—it could get stolen or Koushiro could take it away from me and do a bunch of weird experiments—"
"Daisuke—" Ken wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him back into the kiss, slipping his tongue tentatively into Daisuke's mouth. Daisuke's eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling, mind reeling.
But he broke it off again, starting to take pleasure in Ken's impatience, "—or I might trade it to Miyako so she'll do my homework for me," he said, grinning.
One hand slid beneath Ken's shirt, agonizingly warm against his cold skin. But as the fabric of Daisuke's sleeve rode up Ken caught sight of a scar wrapping serpentine around his wrist. A scar from his whip, he realized, looking away quickly. The pain of realization was almost physical. He eyes found the orchid. He squeezed them shut. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. I don't even deserve to be alive. But when he opened his mouth to protest all that escaped was a reckless moan of "Daisuke, please," as the boy had taken advantage of Ken's exposed neck to trail kisses from ear to clavicle, making clear thought impossible.
Just as suddenly the pressure of his lips was gone, and Ken looked up to see Daisuke sitting back, breathing fast, smiling. Messy hair messier, bright eyes brighter, "So you'd really trust me with something so special?"
"Do whatever you want to it," Ken said, pulling Daisuke down on top of him by the collar of his shirt, "It's yours."
xoxo Thank you for reading! Please leave me a review!