This is what I do when I should be doing many many more important things. Enjoy.

Watanuki stood outside the temple door shivering, dripping, and cursing every tiny particle of the universe backward and forward through chattering teeth. Another soft rumble of thunder made its way to his freezing ears, and he threw in an extra bit of loathing for the rain sprite and her distinctly evil ways. Watanuki drew his arms a little closer about himself and watched morosely as the pressure squeezed rivulets of rainwater from his soaking uniform.

He did not knock.

Somewhere behind him, just outside the gates of the temple grounds, he could feel the sour presence of a spirit thwarted by the spiritual boundaries of this place, growling with a deep frustration that matched the sound of the thunder. It had the shape of a great black cloud that hovered inches from the gate, a few tendrils whipping out to test the barrier occasionally. Deep within, Watanuki could see sharp flashes of light arcing through the smoggy mass. He shuddered slightly. He could no longer smell the acrid scent of the thing like he had been able to close by, but the sharp popping and rumbling growls were enough to remind him that he was far from safe. Watanuki eyed the doorknob unhappily.

He was not going to knock.

It was one in the morning, for goodness' sake, far too late (or early) to be disturbing the temple with some wild tale of a cloud monster lurking outside their gate. Watanuki was nothing if not well-mannered. The temple's clean aura should at least keep him safe until morning, and the small overhang of the roof made a dry strip wide enough for him to take shelter under from the rain. Watanuki let out a quiet sigh and leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the barely damp doorstep. He curled his arms around his knees and rested his chin on them, wondering for a moment what had happened to shoulder bag he'd lost (along with one shoe) to the spirit's grasping arms. Watanuki couldn't imagine they'd be very tasty, but one never knew.

He bit his lip and resisted the urge to knock.

It was less than a minute—and a world of wet, uncomfortable despair—later that he heard the door click open.

"Oi," said annoyed voice from above him. Watanuki looked up to see the archer staring down at him with a pronounced frown. "Get inside," he said. Watanuki looked wearily at the open door, then back at the raindrops pounding their way across the street and through the monster that still writhed outside the gate, and didn't argue.

"Why didn't you knock?" Doumeki asked, hearing the frustration in his own words as he threw a towel in Watanuki's direction. The smaller boy glowered at him.

"I didn't think there was a need," Watanuki said haughtily, blowing on his hands to warm them even as he draped the towel over his shoulder.

"Idiot," Doumeki sighed. "Go get changed, will you?"

"Into what?"

"There's a robe hanging in the bathroom."

"Fine."

Doumeki shook his head and sat back on the futon with a thump as the door to his bedroom closed after Watanuki. The idiot should be thankful that Doumeki was a light sleeper. Maybe it was something about all the nights he'd spent running after Watanuki on Yuuko's crazy errands, but the archer had recently found that he had trouble getting through the night without waking. This time had been a lucky coincidence—he had gotten up with the strange urge to go check on the temple grounds, and instead found a soaking wet Watanuki crumpled on his doorstep, shivering and staring with a blank expression at something out in the street. Doumeki wondered if Watanuki would have caught hypothermia out there in a few more minutes, and decided it was fairly likely. The boy had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.

The door thudded back open and Doumeki was startled from his reverie by the sight of Watanuki dressed in a too-large bathrobe and no slippers, carrying a stack of sodden clothing wrapped in the towel Doumeki had given him. He looked vaguely embarrassed despite the pouting scowl on his face.

"Where can I put these?" Watanuki mumbled, gesturing toward the clothes. "I don't want them to get the floor wet."

"Just throw them over the dresser," Doumeki replied. "They'll dry out ok there."

Watanuki did as he was told, a strange respite from the norm in Doumeki's opinion. Then he started for the door, padding across the floor and jumping slightly when it creaked beneath his feet. His hand rested on the handle before Doumeki spoke up.

"Where are you going?"

"Out to the kitchen, I guess," Watanuki said in surprise. "I don't want to wake your parents up, and that's the farthest from their room."

"And just what were you planning on doing out there? Sitting by the window for five hours staring at the rain?" Doumeki stood up, staring skeptically at Watanuki's delicate form, still poised to open the door. Watanuki didn't reply.

"Lay down," Doumeki instructed.

"Excuse me?"

"On the futon. Sleep," he said shortly.

"Next to you?" Watanuki's hand dropped from the door as he stared suspiciously at his host.

"If it bothers you, I can sleep on the floor."

Watanuki considered. The futon looked awfully comforting and warm, but he had manners to think of. Doumeki slumped against the wall and gestured Watanuki toward the futon.

"Are you sure?" he asked tentatively, taking a step toward the bed.

"Yeah. All you're going to do sit there and be miserable otherwise."

"I don't have pajamas," Watanuki complained softly as he stretched out on the bed, pulling the blankets snugly around his chin. Doumeki noticed that the smaller boy fit comfortably into the imprint made by his own body. Watanuki glared at him. "I can't sleep if you're going to sit there watching me."

"Sorry."

They sat there in the darkness, Doumeki listening to Watanuki's breathing and wondering if he was doing the same.

"Hey," said Watanuki suddenly, the swishing of blankets indicating that he had sat up in bed. "How's your arm?"

"Still there," replied Doumeki half-sarcastically.

"That's not what I mean, stupid. Has it healed since that thing last week...?"

"Well enough." Doumeki didn't feel like getting into the details. His bandaged arm was still throbbing from its immersion in the strange liquid from which he had pulled Watanuki. Oddly enough it had only hurt the archer, leaving raw scrapes along his skin as though raked by claws. Doumeki supposed it was revenge for stealing the possessive spirit's "pet". Ah, well. It was better than allowing Watanuki to become a new addition to the thing's collection of goldfish.

"Let me see it."

"No."

"You're lying. It's bad. Turn on the light." Doumeki did so extremely reluctantly. Watanuki blinked owlishly as the archer rolled up his sleeve to reveal the meticulous white bandages wrapped around his arm from wrist to shoulder. At least the scratches on his hand had mostly healed.

Watanuki stared at it in silence. "Does it hurt?"

"Not much."

"Liar." Watanuki wrinkled his nose. "Lay down." He scooted over and pointed at the space beside him on the futon.

"What, really?"

"Yes, really. You better stay on that side though, you big oaf."

"Ok." Doumeki lay down carefully on the very edge of the futon, facing Watanuki."

"Turn around the other way," the smaller boy said irritably.

"Can't. My arm hurts."

Watanuki snorted. "I knew you were lying. Turn off the light, then." Doumeki flicked the switch and plunged the room into darkness.

Watanuki woke some time in the night to find a heavy arm laid across his waist.

"Damn it," he hissed. "I told him too—" Then he realized the distance between him and the edge of the futon and cursed again. Apparently Doumeki wasn't the one who had moved.

Watanuki took a deep breath and tried to wriggle out from under the arm, scooting as quietly as he could toward the other side of the bed. Behind him, Doumeki exhaled sharply and tightened his grip.

"Oh," he said sleepily, his breath soft on the back of Watanuki's neck. "It's just you." He pulled his bandaged arm back and Watanuki rolled away, thankful that moonlight did little to illuminate his blush. He sat up suddenly as his gaze landed on the open window that was the source of the light.

"What is it?" Doumeki asked concernedly.

"Oh, nothing. I just noticed that the storm stopped." Watanuki reached for his glasses, cinching the belt of his robe tighter around his waist as he clambered out of bed and toward the window. The grounds outside were bathed in silvery light. "I guess that means the demon's gone," he commented to no one in particular.

"What kind of demon was it?"

"I don't know," Watanuki sighed. "It looked like a small thundercloud, except that it chased me up the street. Yuuko-san made me stay late to cook snacks for her, and I guess it was just waiting outside. It ate my school books," he added, as though it were the most normal thing in the world. "Hey," said abruptly, shooting a sideways glance at Doumeki. "How come you didn't ask me before?"

"You mean what kind of demon it was?"

"Yeah. That, and what I was doing out at one in the morning."

"Didn't seem important, I guess," Doumeki muttered, propping himself up on his good arm to look at Watanuki. "Being out at one is no weirder than refusing to knock on the damn door before you freeze to death."

"I wasn't going to freeze to death!" Watanuki said indignantly, adjusting his glasses to stare imperiously down at the archer before looking away again. "I just... didn't want to bug you, I guess."

"It would bug me more if you died of hypothermia on my front porch," Doumeki replied dryly. Watanuki stared at him.

"Why, because you'd have a body to clean up?"

"No, just... because."

"Because what?"

"Come back to bed, Watanuki."

"That sounds weird when you say it," Watanuki grumbled as he slid back under the sheets.

"Well, get used to it."

"What?"

"Never mind."

Watanuki waited until the archer had fallen asleep before flipping over onto his side and regarding the taller boy disapprovingly. Doumeki's hair stuck out and strange angles against the pillow, his face was emotionless even in sleep. But there was something nice about having him there, Watanuki reflected. There was something calming about lying next to him with no need to be fearful, listening to the steady drip of water from the eaves outside the windows. So he wasn't altogether surprised at himself when he surreptitiously slid over and curled up against the other boy, letting his forehead bump Doumeki's broad chest just below the collar bone. In the morning, he could always construe it as Doumeki's fault.

Doumeki, on the other hand, was surprised—rather pleasantly so—by Watanuki's silent show of affection. Even with his eyes closed he closed he could sense the purposeful movement of Watanuki's body, and feel the soft breath on his skin through the cloth. He could also hear the almost inaudible self-deprecating chuckle as Watanuki shook his head at his own stupidity. Well. Doumeki wrapped an arm, once again, around Watanuki's slender form, and paid silent thanks to Yuuko, and the rain.

...And you know it would happen like that, too. XD