Fandom: XXXHOLiC
Characters: Watanuki Kimihiro, Doumeki Shizuka
Theme: 25 - Song
Warnings/Ratings: None…
In A Nutshell: However, the dusting-and-being-in-the-temple-when-he-shouldn't-be bit was less shocking than the fact that he was singing.
Disclaimer: Not planning on owning it any time soon…

Pulling off his shoes, he walked warily towards the room the noise was coming from. Nobody should be here at this hour, should they? Bow in hand, he peered into the room.

Watanuki was in there, dusting. However, the dusting-and-being-in-the-temple-when-he-shouldn't-be bit was less shocking than the fact that he was singing.

He was an awful singer, out of tune, out of key, everything, but it was so much better than yelling. That, and whatever song he was singing seemed to be making him happy. He was flitting around the room, smiling.

"Oi." He froze immediately, turning around to face Doumeki and… blushing? Yep, blushing.

"Er… well." He fidgeted. "Yuuko said that I should do more than just making food for you so she sent me over here to clean for you."

"Ah."

"I'm sorry for inviting myself in, but…" Apparently unable to finish this sentence, he simply turned back to the shelf and continued dusting.

"So what is it you were singing?" The blush deepened.

"You heard that?" Doumeki nodded. He buried his head in his hands, cheeks a lovely crimson color attained through sheer embarrassment. "Just a song." He busied himself with dusting the same shelf he'd been dusting for the past three minutes or so.

"What, was it a love song or something?" As far away as he was, he could almost feel the heat from the smaller boy's face. Yep, definitely a love song.

"My mother used to sing it while she was working." There was obviously more to this story than he was letting on. Uninterrupted, Watanuki continued, "Once, my father took her hand and spun her around. They started dancing and somehow she was singing the entire time." He smiled sadly, "It only ever happened once. Isn't that strange?" He wasn't expecting an answer to his question, and he didn't get one.

However, he did get a pull on his unoccupied hand moments later.

"Would you like to dance?"

I suppose I'm back to stories that are so fluffy as to be indigestible.

Ahwell.