Title: Diary (February 3, 2005)
Author: WolfPilot06
Pairings: Various and sundry. To name a few, Tsuzuki+Hisoka, Muraki+Hisoka, Oriya+Hisoka, Terazuma+Wakaba, Saya+Yuma, Tsuzuki+Watari+Tatsumi, and probably some Tatsumi+Hisoka. Everybody hit on the barely-legal intern!
Warnings: AU, silliness, shonen ai/yaoi, humor
Notes: In which Hisoka plants himself in my brain as an AU intern at some company, assumes a horrible British accent, and goes Bridget Jones's Diary on me. This was born from the first entry at 11:43am. I had no intention of expanding it past that, but obviously, the fates were conspiring against me. Should the inspiration strike me again, I will create another day. But that is another story for another time, and I shan't go on about it now. Just for a higher entertainment factor, I advise you read this while imagining Hisoka to be speaking in a bad British accent. That's what he sounded like as he dictated this from the bowels of my brain (which really sounds nasty, if you think about it).
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11:43am: Had a particularly odd morning at work today. Boss got a paper cut from a stack of papers I was giving him and, after scrounging desperately for a band-aid to stem what was, to all appearances, a tiny drop of blood, declared that he was feeling faint, cited it as reasonable medical leave, and took the rest of the day off from work. From the way he was wailing on about it, you'd have thought it was a life-threatening injury. I know his wife's pregnant and all, but considering the number of days he's been taking off to go home and have a cuppah with her, you'd think he was the one on maternal leave, not her.
12:34pm: I'm beginning to think that all the employees at this company are absolutely crackers. I walked in on Mr. Tsuzuki wooing an English muffin in the privacy of his office not fifteen minutes ago, and while I was in the process of trying to figure out what he was doing, Mr. Watari walked in and offered him a cup of coffee. I seemed to be the only one in the room who thought anthropomorphizing pastries was, to any degree, abnormal. Even more strange was the extent to which Mr. Tsuzuki attempted to wiggle his way out of actually drinking said coffee. Now, I'm no great coffee fan, myself, but even I wouldn't go so far as to downright refuse a free cup of joe, should it be offered to me and delivered to my desk. Besides which, Mr. Watari - who is the company doctor and a member of the research and development department - assured us both that it was enhanced with several vitamins and minerals that were sure to improve our health (he said that I was looking a bit peckish; I told him that it was because my stepmother's pet Chihuahua had bitten me last night, and the bite was itching a bit. He asked if it wasn't rabid. I assured him that while I had my doubts, I had yet to see the Chihuahua display any signs of rabidity; more like, it seemed to be uncommonly aggressive towards me. I have to admit that the feeling is mutual. That is a horrible little dog). Before I could accept the coffee, however, Mr. Tsuzuki stepped in and took it from me, which I found rather rude. After all, he turned it down the first time it was offered to him. No need for him to go back on his word and go about mooching my coffee.
1:17pm: Mr. Tsuzuki keeps giving me surreptitious winks, as if he and I pulled off some great stunt together. I have absolutely no clue what that's about.
1:33pm: I spot trouble on the horizon. Mr. Tatsumi (that's the head secretary and chief accountant) has several beloved potted plants that he tends to on a daily basis in the corner of the office. One of them has begun to turn blue and grow alarming appendages; I'm rather sure I saw Mr. Tsuzuki dump the coffee he'd snitched from me into the pot of said plant. I wonder what effect caffeine has on potted plants?
1:42pm: The cat's out of the bag. Mr. Tatsumi looks madder than a dog whose dignity has just been dreadfully wounded by a veterinarian taking its temperature up its behind. He's begun interrogating several unfortunate employees as to find the culprit who turned his beloved plant into a nightmare from the Little Shop of Horrors. Mr. Watari seems unintimidated by Mr. Tatsumi (I've noticed he hardly ever is) and seems rather taken by said mutated plant. He's begun calling it Erica-chan and is in the process of pruning the plant rather happily. The plant seems to like him, if I am to judge by the odd way it keeps humming and purring and pushing up against his hand. I am afraid I will never understand Mr. Watari, reputable genius that he is. They always say that geniuses are a bit bonkers, anyway.
2:01pm: Mr. Tatsumi somehow has managed to tag both Mr. Tsuzuki and Mr. Watari as the culprits, though I suppose it wasn't hard, what with the way that Mr. Tsuzuki was slinking about with a guilty look on his face, as if he killed Mr. Tatsumi's puppy and not his plant. Mr. Watari was going on about how he never expected his newest gender-changing potion to have such an effect on plants (gender-changing potion? I'm beginning to feel afraid) under his breath. I suppose it was only a matter of time before Mr. Tatsumi caught them. He's not exactly a moron, thank goodness for that. He seems to be about the only relatively normal person other than myself around here. He's dragged them both into his office for a good telling-off, and judging by the noises coming from the closed door, he is indeed telling them off. Ms. Wakaba keeps giggling for some reason, though, every time she looks at his office.
2:05pm: I asked Ms. Wakaba why she kept laughing, and she only blushed and mumbled something about slash and yow-ee. I'm beginning to become even more confused. I thought she was a perfectly normal girl, but now I'm beginning to have my doubts. And why haven't Mr. Tsuzuki and Mr. Watari come out from Mr. Tatsumi's office yet? Surely, poisoning his plant is not enough to warrant a ten-minute lecture.
2:46pm: Oh God. Two eerily similar-looking girls have shown up. They took one good look at me, squealed "Jailbait" and dashed off chattering about something called "Pink House". Mr. Terazuma nearly fell out of his chair laughing as they ran by him and wished me good luck. He also winked at me and nodded towards the closet, as if there is something there that I should know about. I have a bad feeling about those two girls. And I'm beginning to have doubts about Mr. Tatsumi's so-called efficiency; Mr. Tsuzuki and Mr. Watari have yet to return from his chastisement.
3:15pm:paieuri;2131! Heslkp me! DRESSSSEEAO1aejr s;lka;fsdl;g
3:33pm:I have only just gotten away from the hell-bent Hokkaido girls, as they are known. My earlier bad feeling about them was quite justified. They showed up again around 3:15 (hence, my earlier entry) bearing large clothing boxes and promptly pounced upon me and dragged me off into the women's bathroom, where they attempted to shove me into a fluffy pink dress, much to my dismay. Infuriatingly enough, not only did they ignore my protests against their demeaning attempts to dress me as a woman, but the other female coworkers witnessing the spectacle did not offer me a jot of help. They only offered make-up advice as to what color eye shadow they thought suited my "leaf-green" eyes best. Injustice! I am thinking of filing a lawsuit for...for...indecent public exposure or assault and battery or something. It was quite embarrassing. Mr. Terazuma is beside himself trying not to laugh out loud. Bastard. Hope his head pops from holding all that laughter in.
On the other hand, Mr. Tsuzuki and Mr. Watari have re-entered the world of the living and have returned to working. They are noticeably subdued and, strangely enough, mussed. I am mystified. Mr. Watari keeps cackling and grinning at nothing before assuming an appropriately chastised expression. Mr. Tsuzuki looks like the cat that got the cream. Quite unusual. Mr. Tatsumi, however, is unchanged. One wonders if he has more than one facial expression. (The Scary Accountant face does not count; I am firmly of the belief that that is an entirely different persona altogether, and that he suffers from multiple-personality disorder.)
3:56pm:I have yet to get one jot of work done today. It has been a series of interruptions, from Boss taking the day off to Mr. Tsuzuki and Mr. Watari's plant hijinks and subsequent disappearance into Mr. Tatsumi's office to the Hokkaido girls' attack.
And now I believe that Mr. Muraki, Boss's boss, is hitting on me. He keeps calling me to his office for various stupid little errands, giving me sleazy smiles, and mentioning roses and moonlight and all sorts of cheesy romantic rubbish. And, when I was introduced to him earlier today, he gave me this lingering handshake, which made me feel as if my hand had been dragged through a barrel of cold, slimy eels. He has the hands of a doctor, he does, all cold and nasty. I don't think I like him, not one jot.
His secretary, however, is a rather nice man with long hair and a pleasant demeanor. I believe he is Japanese. He introduced himself as Oriya-san, but I will be calling him Mr. Oriya, unless he has a problem with that. He seems like a traditional type, if I am to judge by the maroon kimono decorated with pink roses that he was wearing today. Despite his apparent lack of fashion sense, I find myself liking him. He invited me to lunch to-morrow, and I think I shall accept. He seems like a good person to get along with, and holds an unreasoning amount of power over his boss. When I looked appalled at Mr. Muraki's advances earlier today, Mr. Oriya gave him the most chilling look, and Mr. Muraki actually desisted from further molesting me. I was quite grateful.
4:35pm: Almost free! I began to organize Mr. Tsuzuki's files (I am, after all, supposed to be his secretary) and managed to finish the 'A' file. It is beyond me how a seasoned worker of his experience (he has been working with this company nearly from its establishment ten years ago; he was an intern like myself at the age of eighteen, but he knows the workings of the company quite better than most anyone.
I cannot fathom as to why he has yet to be promoted beyond a common desk worker) can be so disorganized. Candy wrappers are strewn across his desk and stuffed in his drawers, as if he cannot bear to throw them away when he has a perfectly good wastebasket right by his legs, and I have found several used food utensils in my search for missing files. Now, a fork or two is nothing to wonder about, but when I find nearly twenty of them in addition to several dirty plates, I begin to wonder.
4:54pm: Only six more minutes until I can clock out. I do believe that Mr. Tsuzuki is flirting with me. Is every male in this company (save Mr. Terazuma, who seems quite besotted with Ms. Wakaba, and Mr. Tatsumi, who has the sexuality of a tree stump) gay? I have to say, though, that Mr. Tsuzuki is much more preferable to Mr. Muraki. Am beginning to entertain random notions of having sex on Mr. Tsuzuki's desktop.
Most unbecoming. There are no cold showers around here.
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To be (possibly) continued.
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Wolf