Non-Smoking
Author's Note: Set after Digimon Adventure: Last Evolution Kizuna. Enjoy the story and R&R.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the Digimon series.
Pairing: Established Taichi x Koushiro.
Summary:
Koushiro can't handle cigarette smoke.
Koushiro's tie felt restrictive around his collar. He was visibly a mess, his ghost could have been seeping out of his mouth, and his knuckles were arched on the table, curled inward toward his palms like his back was curved forward toward his stomach.
The food didn't do this to him. The fried rice, sashimi, and six varieties of grilled meat – five sourced from chicken – were actually good-tasting for their price, and for once, it wasn't the iced oolong tea making him unwell.
No, it was the smell of smoke combined with working on zero hours of sleep. He'd ironically become a classic case of Japanese overwork-related stress, minus the death part…yet. President and not a mere cog in his own company.
That said, Koushiro would never regard his employees as cogs. He was a person who respected his staff and valued their professional contributions and input to improve efficiency. The kind of smart, ethical leader with unambiguous objectives folks would dream of working for.
Unfortunately, at the moment, he was operating on fumes. Or more accurately, he was barely operating despite fumes: cigarette smoke from the boozed businessmen sitting one table over. Taichi hadn't considered checking if this small restaurant offered designated smoking rooms before selecting the restaurant off a signboard on the street, resulting in the current unpleasantness.
That there was one businessman inhaling e-cigarette vapour instead of smoking tobacco failed to make a difference. Koushiro couldn't really blame Taichi either. Recognizing how hard Koushiro was working and the fact he was probably neglecting to eat, Taichi had the redhead's best interests at heart.
"Do you want to go someplace else?"
"Battery low…" Koushiro had dark circles under his eyes, Raremon face sag, and Gesomon noodle arms down pat.
Taichi got out of his chair.
"Taichi-san?"
"Can you please not smoke? My boyfriend has respiratory problems."
A mild exaggeration. My boyfriend though? He announced it so casually, Koushiro saw why Taichi bore the Crest of Courage. Confronting three drunks required nerves of steel. Nerves of steel Koushiro didn't have.
Or it may have been downright reckless of him. But Taichi was being proactive, Koushiro withheld criticism.
The tallest snuffed out the end of his smoke in the ashtray, grunting as Taichi thanked him.
The lingering reek intermingled into the fuzzy edges of slumber.
When Koushiro awoke in his own bed later, he was thoroughly rested. Taichi was snoozing beside him, and Koushiro couldn't think of a more prodigious visage to wake up to.