Disclaimer: All characters are from Yami no Matsuei and belong to Yoko Matsushita. No profit being made.
Notes: Watari/Tatsumi. (Um. It's slash. I don't know what I'm doing, but I blame MC and Yasmin. They shouldn't be encouraging me. :) )
Worth
"What do you do when you really want something, but you're not sure you can have it?"
Admittedly, it was an incongruous way to start a conversation, but it had the desired effect. Tatsumi looked up from his paperwork. As expected, he appeared to be mildly annoyed by the question.
"Save up," he said flatly. "Until you're sure you can afford it."
Watari grinned, propping himself comfortably against the office wall. The secretary always assumed things came down to money. But not everything did.
"What if," he asked carefully, "you don't know how much the thing you want will be?"
Tatsumi's pen tapped sharply against his desk, heralding the move from mild annoyance to severe irritation. "Then you ask."
Watari laughed. "Yeah, well, I guess that could work."
"Good. Now go away." Tatsumi pointedly rearranged the sheaf of papers on the desk, waiting for Watari to leave. Watari watched him. His movements were precise, irritation shifting to impatience now as he attempted to ignore the scientist's continued presence.
It was a risk, Watari considered. A risk likely to end in loss of funding at the least, and loss of limbs at worst. Then again, it was also a risk putting two potentially pyrotechnic components in the same beaker, and he did that with alarming regularity. The longer he hesitated, the higher the risk became. The entire department knew from long experience how quickly Tatsumi's patience could run out.
"Sooo," Watari said. This time the other man didn't so much as look up. Pen continued to scratch across paper. "What's your price?"
Complete absence of movement, Watari noted with scientific detachment. The shadows didn't flicker. It reminded him of the moment just before volatile liquid A touched unstable potion B. Miraculously, there was no explosion. There was something worse.
"I am worthless, Watari-san." The tone was cold, matter-of-fact. The 'get out' was implicit in the silence that followed. Watari ignored it.
"I think the word you're looking for is 'priceless'," he corrected softly.
Tatsumi continued to stare at his work, his expression a carefully constructed neutral.
But when the contents of the beaker failed to explode as expected, the next thing you did was stir. Watari crossed to the desk in two quick strides, thumping one palm flat across the piles of neatly handwritten budgets as he leaned across. Tatsumi looked up. His eyes were very blue and very sad, but his defence mechanism had already been tripped, an automatic mask of anger quickly submerging the melancholy. This close, Watari found it wasn't as effective as usual. He caught the man's cheek with his free hand, and leaned further over the desk. Tatsumi's posture stiffened, as if he was trying to decide whether he should pull back, move away. But too slow. Watari had forward momentum on his side.
After a moment, he broke the kiss, withdrawing himself to the far side of the desk.
"You don't taste worthless."
Tatsumi lifted his hand in something like shock. It moved halfway to his cheek of its own volition before he realised and turned the gesture into a straightening of his glasses instead. Watari grinned at him. It wasn't like he had all that much left to lose. Tatsumi didn't say anything. But the world didn't explode, either. That had to be a good sign.
"Well, if you want me I'll be over in the lab," he said, heading for the door. "Saving up."
Tatsumi didn't say anything. But his eyes softened. Just a little bit. He was back to work before Watari closed the door.