Lyrics are from Sister Hazel's Shame on Me.

For icedragonchilde, because it's her fault I added yet another chapter to this thing. Love ya, darling.

For What It's Worth

Watanuki wouldn't be back yet, Doumeki knew. It was one of his longer nights at Yuuko's – a Friday – and he'd be tired when he got home. Doumeki had been over for dinner for three nights in a row; he wasn't sure if he should show up for a fourth. Watanuki's fridge was almost empty, his voice had begun to hoarsen from the near–constant yelling, and the last thing he'd want after dealing with Yuuko all day was to deal with Doumeki all night. So he knew it would be best if he let Watanuki have the night to himself for once.

Not to say the past three nights had been unpleasant. Quite the contrary. There'd been four more smiles and two more laughs – but Doumeki hadn't been keeping track, at all. There was that jittery, prolonged goodbye at the door last night. Watanuki had fidgeted with his glasses and then repeatedly turned the deadbolt on the open door – click locked click unlocked – while Doumeki stood in the hallway with his hands in his pockets so Watanuki couldn't see how his palms were sweating. And if he went back again tonight, something similar would undoubtedly happen again. Maybe the inches would grow smaller, and maybe Watanuki would look him in the eye as they tried to say goodbye. Maybe Doumeki would work up the courage to close the gap between them. And maybe then, they'd stay up late, too late, and then Doumeki would stumble home in the early morning hours or maybe not at all. Doumeki lay back on his futon, folding his hands behind his head. He let his mind fill with the daydream.

Until there was a soft knock on the door. He heard it slide back a few inches, and he pictured the sliver of his anxious mother's face that would be showing. "Shizuka…? Will you be home for dinner tonight?"

Doumeki opened his eyes but didn't look at his mother. His father had come home from another business trip that afternoon and, if for no other reason, he didn't want to sit and listen to how rewarding the business world was from across the dinner table. Ever since Doumeki had hit high school, nearly every aspect of the temple was run by no one but himself – his father had made it clear he wanted nothing to with it. "Practically as worthless as his grandfather," Doumeki had overheard his father say once. The situation suited the elder Doumeki just fine, it seemed, because he was always gone for weeks at a time.

Instead of answering his mother, Doumeki asked a question of his own. "How's grandmother tonight?"

His mother hesitated. Her husband's mother's failing health was not an openly discussed topic. "Already asleep for the night."

Well, that settled it. Tired, cranky Watanuki was always better than an evening with his father and without his grandmother – the only other person that appreciated Haruka's memory – "No."

It's over, and I'm overwhelmed
I'm emptied out like a dusty shelf

It was falling dark when Watanuki reached his apartment building. He should've gone grocery shopping on the way home, since his fridge had not been stocked to feed Doumeki's bottomless stomach, but he was absolutely drained from his day at Yuuko's; another day spent airing out her black hole of a treasure room. It was unlikely Doumeki would be over tonight anyway; Watanuki had to admit he was disappointed that Doumeki hadn't been waiting for him at the gate.

Watanuki pulled out his key to the building, only to discover it was unlocked. None of his neighbors were careless like that, much less in the later hours, so he crept up the steps carefully, keeping an eye out for the telltale inky smoke. He didn't smell the nauseating stench normally associated with ill–intentioned spirits. But then again, he hadn't felt a thing with the spirit woman or the four–headed hellhound, so relying on smoke and smell seemed to be a moot idea.

He peeked around the corner to check if there was anything suspicious – and instead saw Doumeki sitting against his door, three bulging bags stamped with the local grocer's logo lined up next to him. Watanuki's heart did a backflip into his throat, but he stayed where he was. Restoring his stock of groceries was sweet – okay, really really sweet – but the bags had to be filled with Doumeki's favorite foods instead of ones Watanuki could actually use.

Oh well, Watanuki thought as he unconsciously smoothed out his jacket. It's the thought that counts. He rounded the corner, putting his hands on his hips, and tried to put a chastising edge to his voice. "Did one of my neighbors let you in?" Doumeki gave a slow nod as Watanuki bent to the bags. "Figures. Don't think I'm going to give you a key or anything." He reached a hand into the closest bag, rummaging though it. "So what kind of junk food did you bring over now?" Pulling out a squat plastic tub, he was dumbfounded. "Oh. How's you know I was almost out of miso? That's an expensive brand, too…" He found a tin canister. "I was almost out of tea, too." Way to prove me wrong, Shizuka. And he froze, staring at Doumeki's slightly arched eyebrow. He'd just thought of him as Shizuka. He dropped the tea back toward the general vicinity of the bags, holding out a hand to hoist Doumeki to his feet. "Alright, I'll make you dinner, even though I'm exhausted from Yuuko's slavery." Watanuki turned the key in the lock as Doumeki gathered up the bags.

He was never going to understand Doumeki's thought processes. Never.

You buried me and I'm covered in shame
I'm here but you look right through me

Watanuki's harping was music to Doumeki's ears. He followed Watanuki inside and though the archway to the kitchen. As Watanuki began to pull out pots and pans, Doumeki put away the food. He'd learned where everything went in this kitchen, according to Watanuki's neurotic organization, in a matter of three nights, and the apartment had lost its awkward feeling. It was suspiciously beginning to feel more natural than the temple, but Doumeki assumed that was simply because it contained Watanuki.

Despite being a bit worn around the edges, Watanuki looked happy; it made warmth spread through Doumeki. Who would've known – beside Yuuko, anyway – that what had started as a rivalry would become a friendship that solved their loneliness? Doumeki had never felt anything as natural or comfortable as sharing this tiny kitchen with Watanuki.

He turned to open a cupboard right as Watanuki straightened from retrieving a strainer, and Doumeki found himself staring into Watanuki's mismatched eyes. Watanuki narrowed his eyes as he reached around Doumeki to put the strainer in the sink. "You haven't said a word since you got here." He shoved a pot into Doumeki's hands. "Start boiling two–and–a–half cups of water while I cut the meat." Doumeki leaned against the sink and ran water into the pot from the tap; Watanuki rolled his eyes, but probably only because it was too late to yell. "No, idiot, if you don't measure it the sauce will come out wrong." Watanuki brushed Doumeki's hands away so he stood back, watching Watanuki's face in the window over the sink. His eyebrows were furrowed together, and Doumeki could sense the storm brewing under his skin – Typhoon Watanuki.

And yet, all Doumeki could think was that Watanuki was jaw–droppingly adorable when he was angry, and that if that dissonance was directed at any other creature, he'd have to kill something again. But Watanuki put the pot down with a clang and crossed his arms, turning to face Doumeki. "Did I do something wrong?" The look in his eyes was bordering on wild, and Doumeki didn't know how to take that – if he wasn't sure it would land him an elbow in the face, Doumeki would probably already have him pressed against the cabinet.

So clever, but I tripped somehow
I never guessed you could knock me down

Slight widening of the eyes. Twitch of the mouth. One fist clenched and then relaxed again. Watanuki knew that was as close to surprise as Doumeki got. "Okay, then what is it?" Watanuki leaned forward, almost nose–to–nose with Doumeki, who had gotten very stiff. "Because Lord knows you're not the talkative type, but this is ridiculous. You've been here for twenty minutes and not even a peep. Do you expect me to read your mind or something?" Watanuki glowered. "Because it's weird enough that monsters like to try to eat me and you shoot ki–arrows and we have to share an eye and I think reading each other's minds would be just a little too much, even for us." Watanuki procured a wooden spoon from somewhere and waved it threatening in Doumeki's direction, hoping that maybe it would dissolve the strange air that hung between them. "At least grunt or something! If I have to hear nothing but my own voice for the rest of the night, Doumeki Shizuka, I will never make you inari sushi again!" He spun back toward the stove, busying himself with utensils, before turning back again. He'd say it all if he was going to say anything at all, especially with Doumeki. Because Doumeki deserved to hear everything. "Just standing there, staring at me! I swear, you drive me crazy!" In more than one way, his inner voice quipped, but Watanuki steadfastly ignored it. It is not sexual tension, damn it! He wanted to smack Doumeki just so he'd stop gazing at him like he was Christmas morning.

I am just a bit undone
Displaced and I'm burned like fire

Watanuki crossed his arms and glared; Doumeki stood back and took him in: school uniform open at the throat, that lock of hair in one eye, bare foot tapping against the floor in self–produced frustration. Doumeki wanted to stare at him all night, but the part of him that only responded to Watanuki – the part that got sarcastic and out–of–control and fiercely protective – made him open his mouth and shoot out, "What, crazier than you already are?"

Watanuki flushed all the way up from his collar; god, Doumeki would die happy if the rest of his nights were like this. He couldn't help grinning, and then he started to laugh. Watanuki dropped the spoon he was holding. "Oh, funny, is it?" But he chuckled, and soon, they were raising a ruckus. Doumeki slid to the floor, clutching his stomach. Haven't laughed like this in forever. He looked up at Watanuki – who was leaning against the counter trying desperately to remain perturbed but failing miserably – and Doumeki enjoyed seeing Watanuki laugh so much it made him ache. Is this love? The thought made him sober up fast. It's Watanuki. Do I even know how to love? Oh, god, what if he screwed this up? What if he couldn't make Watanuki laugh anymore? He'd never forgive himself.

Doumeki shook himself and got to his feet. He smiled at Watanuki, who was gasping for breath. I've come this far. And it wasn't like anything he'd dealt with before. But it was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and Doumeki would see it through.

Well, I didn't get it
I never wanted to

"You know," Doumeki said after the plates were cleared and they were settled among the cushions in Watanuki's tiny sitting room, "I thought you'd be mad at me for showing up tonight."

Watanuki lifted his face from the piles of photos he had spread across the table. "You were worried?" Doumeki nodded, sitting up to help himself to another cookie. Watanuki glanced down at the tabletop, a faint blush hitting his cheeks. I can't believe I'm going to say this. "I… like it when you're here. Why would you worry?"

"You normally get fussy after work at Yuuko's."

Huh, well. Watanuki knew his behavior was erratic, but stony Doumeki predicting is moods? He had been in a fairly foul mood when he'd left work – especially after Doumeki hadn't been at the gate – but the groceries had been so sweet that even making dinner had been a pleasant affair. And he'd never heard Doumeki laugh like that; the stoic boy been lost in it, and Watanuki got the feeling he didn't get lost in much. "So why'd you come over, then?"

Doumeki gazed at the wall somewhere past Watanuki's ear. "My father's home for a few days."

Watanuki set down the picture in his hand. Doumeki being forthcoming – it was enough to make the alarm bells in Watanuki's mind clang. "Do you not get along?" Because he'd never mentioned his father before, except for the once when he told Yuuko he didn't have the ability to exorcize spirits.

Doumeki snorted. "I'm hardly even alive to him."

A light flared somewhere in Watanuki's brain. He'd been able to identify with the pain of losing loved ones, but to have someone so important revile his very existence? "Is it… because of Haruka–san?"

"Too much like my grandfather, yeah." Doumeki leaned one arm on the table. "Chasing after things that don't exist, wasting our lives serving the dead. He hasn't been to an archery meet since middle school." The last came out bitter; Watanuki stood and went around the table to sit next to him. Watanuki knew he had a soft spot for the lonely, he just hadn't realized that it was definitely what had thrown the two of them together in the first place.

But what could he say? He wasn't sure why Doumeki was suddenly telling him this. He certainly didn't want sympathy; that just wasn't like Doumeki. It was the only way Doumeki could think to show him where they stood – Watanuki was smart enough to realize that, all self–doubt aside, the bond they shared had been cemented in four nights.

Watanuki ached for Doumeki, but knowing he trusted him enough to tell him things he obviously hadn't said to anyone else… It made him feel elated as well. He just wanted to make it all go away for Doumeki, for Shizuka, just like he'd done for Watanuki.

And yet Watanuki still wasn't sure if Doumeki felt the same.

My self-destructive attitude said
What did you want?
And why did you want it at all?

"You're the only person I've ever told that to," Doumeki affirmed, giving Watanuki a faint smile. But the bespectacled boy sat gazing at him, a conflicted expression marring his features. Doumeki was finally getting Watanuki's undivided attention and it made him feel guilty because his purpose was to make sure Watanuki was safe and smiling. "Thank you for dinner."

"Thank you for the groceries." The line of Watanuki's brow eased and he smiled wide all the way up to his eyes; Ah, that's what I need. Even with the resentment he felt for his father, even the pain of losing his grandfather – it had all led him to Watanuki, so for Doumeki it was alright. The thought made him feel lighter, and the smile that used to feel so awkward was coming naturally.

The silence stretched as they smiled at each other. Normally, Doumeki would be leaving for home now, to give Watanuki time for homework and whatever else. But it was Friday, Doumeki didn't want to go home, and he'd decided to be selfish and impose himself on Watanuki. So Doumeki stood, holding out a hand. The briefest look of disappointment flashed across Watanuki's face as he clasped it, rising to his feet. But Doumeki smiled, heading toward the kitchen. "I'll help you with the dishes for once."

"It's about time!" Watanuki snapped, but didn't pull his hand away, letting Doumeki tug him into the kitchen. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get some of these pans clean? Of course not. Not only do you have the most complicated taste, you've probably never washed a plate in your life. You'll probably break half of mine, too."

Complicated taste, eh, Doumeki couldn't help laughing at Watanuki's ranting, the days of plugging his ears long gone. He's got no idea. Watanuki ran soap into the sink and proceeded to show Doumeki which pots to scrub, which to soak, the proper ratio of hot water, cold water, and dish–soap, and the best way to stack them to dry.

It ended with two broken plates, water on the floor, and soap suds all over their faces – but they were on the floor laughing their heads off again, and Doumeki was pretty certain that it was the best time Watanuki ever had washing dishes.

But you never went away

Hell, it was Friday. Teenaged boys hung out late on weekends, although most probably didn't hold hands occasionally or flirt over a sinkful of dinner dishes. Of course, most boys would just stay over instead of staying out late, but thoughts of Doumeki staying the night when Watanuki only had the one futon…

"Are you blushing?" Doumeki asked. He'd been methodically teaching Watanuki mahjongg, and had been thoughtfully shuffling through his tiles.

Watanuki quickly faked a yawn to cover it up, but it didn't take much to turn it real. He took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He hadn't stayed up this late since… "The meteor shower."

Doumeki quirked an eyebrow; Watanuki tried to backtrack. "Just thinking. Haven't been up this late since the meteor shower."

Doumeki had a question in his eyes. "Watanuki," He started, "Should I go home now? You're tired."

That wasn't the question you were going to ask. "The game..?" Watanuki waved a hand at the table.

Doumeki glanced at the tiles in his hand before setting them down. "It can wait."

"Tomorrow, then?" Watanuki suppressed another yawn.

"Tomorrow," Doumeki said with such certainty that it made Watanuki twist inside. Why not tonight? Doumeki smiled, that same slow, creeping smile Watanuki had seen before, the last time he'd been up so late with Doumeki. Why not tonight, Shizuka? He wanted to ask, but he was afraid that it was still too soon, that he didn't understand his own feelings.

Just hear me out, for what it's worth
You still rip my breath away

Doumeki half–expected Watanuki to grow skittish over the short conversation about his father, but he realized he'd underestimated Watanuki's determination. He'd gotten that look in his eye – the one Doumeki saw the most around Kohane, especially when her mother was mentioned. It was fierce and it burned from the very root of Watanuki's soul, and Doumeki had in no way foreseen that reaction. He'd thought Watanuki would've been frightened off, in all honesty.

But with the way Watanuki was lingering by the door as Doumeki put on his shoes – he was definitely trying to cover up how tired he actually was. Doumeki felt that pang of guilt again; he hated it when Watanuki worried because then he plunged headfirst into trouble without thinking and Doumeki had long ago stopped protecting his lunch–ticket and started securing Watanuki for the sake of his own sanity. It was selfish, but wasn't Watanuki guilty of that, too?

Caught in a tug–of–war. Doumeki straightened, his laces tied, as Watanuki bit back a yawn again. He'd left his glasses off, his shirt and hair were rumpled, and he very obviously didn't want Doumeki to leave. Doumeki clenched a fist. Don't think about it too much or things will get dangerous very quickly again. Doumeki began to wonder of he needed to revise his definition of "dangerous".

"I'll be done at Yuuko's around four."

Doumeki nodded, not reaching for the door. "I'll meet you there." Watanuki moved a little closer, just inches away, and smiled.

"Thank you." That look, it gave away everything. Doumeki could feel his palms sweating again; he was definitely the unprepared one. Or at least he hoped. He wanted to feel Watanuki's forehead against his collarbone again; he wanted to squeeze his hands and have him squeeze back; he wanted to make sure Watanuki was safe and happy and warm inside the curve of his arm at night. Watanuki was so close, but Doumeki was too scared to touch him – too afraid of what such actions could mean. Still a coward, Doumeki thought, and reached for the door handle.

Shame on me, shame on me
It's bittersweet, but I'm so sorry

"Doumeki?" Don't leave yet. Doumeki stopped, hand on the knob, but he didn't turn so Watanuki tried again. Don't walk away from me wounded, please, please don't. "Shizuka?"

That garnered a reaction. Doumeki's face was unfathomable again, something Watanuki was beginning to realize was a very effective cover–up for whatever was going on underneath. Impassive, my ass, I've got you pegged. Watanuki reached out a hand, level with Doumeki because of the sunken entryway. I think. Should he say he was sorry about his father? He was pretty certain it was wasted with Doumeki. Is it a bigger hurt than Haruka–san? At least he taught with love, not resentment. "I'll teach you how to cook tomorrow, eh?"

Doumeki grasped Watanuki's hand and gave it a brief squeeze, a wondrous look replacing the previous one. Doumeki's gaze quit darting and landed on Watanuki's – those eyes, don't ever let them change, they're my anchor – and Watanuki was inexplicably certain that he could tell Doumeki to stay the night and get away with it. But Doumeki was still clutching the doorknob like it was a lifeline. Watanuki was struck by a moment of panic. Oh god, I'm not ready for this, we're not ready for any of this.

"It's a…" Doumeki's voice hitched, "A plan."

Yes, it is, Watanuki thought. When was the last time Doumeki had heard his first name spoken with affection? When was the last time Watanuki had heard his first name spoken like that, besides Kohane? That thought hurt and Watanuki looked at Doumeki's still form and wondered, How come I never realize how strong he is? He dropped his hand; Doumeki turned the doorknob. "Good night." Shizuka. I swear we'll be okay, one day soon.

Doumeki gave that quiet smile again, the one that caused fine cracks to web something deep inside Watanuki. "Good night." The door clicked shut behind him.

Tomorrow, Watanuki told himself. Once he got it in his mind to do something for someone, Watanuki had the tenacity of a pit bull. And when it came to Doumeki, well, Watanuki was discovering new depths about himself every day he spent with the archer–exorcist. I'm worth being saved, Shizuka. Watanuki finally took the step forward the throw the deadbolt. But so are you.

And he really, really wanted to hear how his name would sound coming from Doumeki's mouth.

Tomorrow. So Watanuki cleaned up around the mahjongg tiles and went to bed, because it would make the next the day come faster.

It took so long but you believed
(I'm so sorry, it took so long)

Things were going to move tomorrow, Doumeki determined. He'd harbor up that courage he had in himself somewhere, and at least try to make the daydream come true. It'd be easier if Watanuki was hissing and dirty and telling him to stop worrying about him, damn it, but that was most likely because that was what Doumeki was used to. I can shoot spirits and give up eyes and blood and all manner of other things, but… Watanuki with his soft eyes and warm hands, saying his name so sure – it made something curl up in the pit of his stomach, equal parts afraid and thrilled.

Doumeki didn't want to go home. He wanted to solve this. It had begun as a controlled fall and now he was an uncertain mess and if there was anything Doumeki hated in the world, it was not knowing where he stood or why. All he'd wanted that night of the meteor shower was a smile, and look where that left him: craving more each passing day. And god, it scared him. He'd gotten away with himself and he needed to see Watanuki as much as possible – he needed him alive, and smiling, and now laughing – he needed Watanuki to be happy and he wanted it to be because of him. The purpose had kept building on while he focused on keeping Watanuki protected and then he'd almost lost him, and thinking of that still made his breath catch.

His life had become unarguably intertwined with Watanuki's, so close that he couldn't tell where his strength stopped and where Watanuki's began; they were wound together and he'd hadn't even kissed him and it felt so wrong. But tomorrow things were going to move and then the freefall would end, and Doumeki would be back on solid ground again as long as he could hear his name spoken by Watanuki.

Doumeki paced the park in the darkness, knowing he'd be unable to sleep if he returned to the temple. He sat on the grass where he'd watched the meteor shower; he paused on the sidewalk where Watanuki had stumbled and he'd caught him, the only reliable things they'd known for so long; he stared at the bench and remembered the spirit–woman and the anger that had rippled under his skin during their last conversation there; he searched the grooves in the concrete for traces of his own blood the hellhound had drawn, his heart thudding knowing that Watanuki had been rolling out his futon at that moment.

And then he saw the stars starting to fade from a second–story window three blocks away in one eye, and Doumeki realized that tomorrow was today and his feet hit the path back to Watanuki.

Shame on me, shame on me
'cause you're every question's answer
shame on me

(Because love forces us to grow.)