Disclaimer: Property of Matsuri Akino, who has my eternal gratitude.
A/N: 'nother FMF, 'nother DxVesca. They seem determined to kill me.
Ditz
Dee opened the door and blinked. "Vesca?"
Vesca slapped his forehead and rested his shoulder on the doorframe. "Jesus, Dee, don't tell me you forgot." Dee continued to stare at him, a slight furrow forming in a perfect white, smooth brow.
"Forgot...?" He prompted gently, and Vesca made a strangled sound of frustration and grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning him around and frog-marching him back into his own apartment.
"Sally's party." Vesca said firmly. And, when Dee only frowned a little harder, "You know, Sally? Pretty blonde? Come on, Dee, you fucking worked with her on your last prac..." The asian man's expression cleared, and one finger rose to tap lightly at his pale cheek.
"Ah, of course. Forgive me. I was singing to my herbs." He turned away, an artful little twirl that sent his fine hair floating out all around him, hands raised as though in preparation for haste. "Please, give me but a moment." He stepped away lightly, as though treading on eggshells, as Vesca gave a little moan of distress or disgust, or both.
"Herbs? You've got herbs. I don't believe you, sometimes, Dee." He strode over to the open window and stared down at the little pots perched all along the sill. They did, indeed, seem to be flourishing. Damned if he'd tell that to Dee, though. "You've got a path right below you, y'know," he shouted to make sure Dee heard him past the bathroom door. "If one of these things fell off, it could kill someone. You oughta open the top half, instead."
Dee emerged, having exchanged one long, flowing garment for another, and raised his hands helplessly. "It would be a terrible shame," he agreed, tone so sincere that Vesca was instantaneously sure he was lying. "But I simply cannot move the top half an inch! Its runners are stuck."
Vesca frowned, and squinted at the window frame. "Yeah?" He asked, considering. "I'll see if I can make it move tomorrow afternoon, then."
"Oh, Vesca. Would you?" Dee's eyes sparkled for a moment, and then he pursed his lips. "I hope you are not thinking of 'crashing' here later this evening. You know I hate to see you inebriated..." But Vesca was waving his hand dismissively.
"Nah, that's why I said 'afternoon'. You know what Sal's like, she'll have half a shipping container... and hell, you think I want to listen to your squawking when I have a hangover?" Dee scowled, and crossed his arms.
"Isn't it time we were going...?" He asked, pointedly. Vesca nodded.
"Yeah, it really is. You want me to wait outside while you kiss your babies goodbye?" He asked with a grin, and a sarcastic sort of wave at the herb pots. Dee sniffed imperiously.
"Only if you think you have suddenly risen above watching," he said snootily, and rolled back his sleeve in order to gently stroke the dorsal fin of a brightly coloured fish in a tank beside his computer. "Which I know you have not..."
Vesca rolled his eyes. He was used to Dee's jabs about his porn. "Yeah, yeah, get a move on, princess, or you're gonna miss Sal's horse doovers." He opened the door and held it for a minute, waiting for Dee, before he realised what he was doing and let it swing into Dee's shoulder.
"Hors d'ouvres, Vesca," the asian man chided with a long-suffering sigh, but he practically floated at the thought. Vesca sincerely hoped that Dee never made it to a chocolate factory; they'd have to rope his ankles to keep him from hitting the ceiling. As it was...
"Did you even lock the door?"
"It locks by itself. The keys are in my..." A pause. "Oh, dear. I left them on the window sill."
Vesca sighed. Looked like he'd have to put up with Dee's squawking after all.
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A/N: Reviews appreciated; follow-up on the way.