Title: Diary (February 4, 2005)
Author: WolfPilot06
Pairings: Various and sundry. To name a few, Tsuzuki+Hisoka, Muraki+Hisoka, Oriya+Hisoka, Terazuma+Wakaba, Saya+Yuma, Tsuzuki+Watari+Tatsumi, and Tatsumi+Hisoka. Everybody hit on the barely-legal intern!
Warnings: AU, silliness, shonen ai/yaoi, humor
Notes: In which Hisoka plants himself in my brain as an AU intern at some company, assumes a horrible British accent, and goes Bridget Jones's Diary on me. And another day commences. This is not necessarily going to be continued, but if the inspiration strikes me, so be it.
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11:05am: To whomever has stolen my sanity:
I would like to politely demand you return it at once. It is not yours to keep, and I am, apparently, desperately in need of it. The estimated time of disappearance is around 10:20 this morning, when, against all common sense, I made a bet with the Hokkaido girls about something (I can't quite remember what, only that it was very stupid), with my masculinity on the line if I lost.
Of course, knowing my luck, I lost. And now, according to the dictates of the bet, I must spend an entire day (specifically, tomorrow, the day of the company outing) in drag. No, I cannot simply put on somewhat more feminine clothing and pretend to be a girl. The Hokkaido girls have, quite considerately, chosen an "appropriate outfit" for my punishment. In my opinion, it is hardly appropriate, as it bares an unseemly amount of leg and seems intent on showing off cleavage that I most definitely do not possess.
When I tried to protest, though, Mr. Muraki insisted that honor demanded I follow through with my end of the bet. I find it quite disturbing that my boss's boss seems taken with the idea of me in drag. I would lodge a complaint with his boss, but that would be the reputed lecher Mr. Hakushaku, whom, I have heard, likes to be called "The Count" while indulging in his rather questionable and shady pastimes. The only man superior to him is the CEO of the company, a Mr. Enma, whom even Mr. Muraki and Mr. Hakushaku do not dare offend, a very scary and not-to-be-tangled-with person dubbed the "God of Death" by the office workers. Apparently, years back, an unfortunate former secretary of Mr. Tsuzuki's was sent to deal with some business with Mr. Enma and was so frightened upon meeting the man that he promptly had a heart-attack on the spot and died.
I don't know the truth of the statement, but it appears that he is part of the reason why Mr. Tsuzuki, debonair charm and all, is still naught more than an office worker. Albeit, he is an office worker with enough stature to warrant a secretary like myself (though, that may be merely because he would not accomplish anything were there not a secretary like myself to browbeat him into doing work), but he has one of the lowest salaries in the office, and it is rumored that even Mr. Watari outranks him.
But I digress. Unless Mr. Tatsumi whips out some obscure company rule against dressing in drag – which he does not seem very inclined to do – I am resigned to wearing a short pink dress with ruffles upon ruffles of wide lace to work tomorrow.
And yes, there is a garter belt to go along with it.
12:13pm: Mr. Tsuzuki asked that I accessorize my outfit tomorrow with a pair of cat ears. I think I may have hit him a little too hard in response. He was not moving last I looked. I thought that Mr. Tatsumi might write me up for some disciplinary action, but he merely sighed and pushed his glasses up before giving me a stack of forms to fill out. It seems that Mr. Tsuzuki frequently incurs these types of situations on himself. I am, strangely enough, not surprised.
1:45pm: Somehow, Mr. Tsuzuki is perfectly fine – wholly intact, in fact, without a bruise to his name, although I swear that I sent him crashing headfirst into the file cabinets I so arduously organized yesterday. He's threatening – rather enthusiastically, I might note – to bring a digital camera to work tomorrow to capture my debut as a drag queen. I told him that if he did, I'd confiscate the cake he's hiding in file cabinet W and put it in the break room for the entire office to eat. I am satisfied to say that threatening Mr. Tsuzuki's pastries and desserts is a surefire way to get him to do anything I want. It's hard to stay resolute when he pouts at me over that temptingly empty desk of his, though, and begs me to be merciful…
Desk sex fantasies aside, Mr. Tsuzuki is an idiot, and will shortly find a pencil shoved up his nose if he does not desist with the girl comparisons.
2:03pm: Mr. Watari keeps trying to spike my drink with some oddly-colored potion. He assures me that it will help make my outfit tomorrow more "believable". Luckily, I learned not to trust any drink offered by Mr. Watari yesterday (Erica-chan is quite well and has several little sprouts growing in her pot now; Mr. Watari has named them Jason-kun, Mikey-kun, Alicia-chan, and Kitty-chan respectively) and have taken to drinking from a hip canteen filled with green tea. I think I am getting used to working here.
2:37pm: Oh-oh. Apparently, Mr. Tatsumi is more peeved about the earlier incident of Mr. Tsuzuki being sent headfirst into the file cabinet than he let on. He has sent a memo summoning me to his office immediately for a disciplinary hearing. Here's to hoping I still have a job after meeting with him.
3:18pm: I did not know a man's tongue could do that.
4:22pm: Bloody hell. The Hokkaido girls came with the outfit I'm to wear tomorrow and – would you believe it has a corset?
God help me.
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To (possibly) be continued…
Wolf