title: Heard Over Tokyo
fandom: Hikaru no Go
characters: Waya, Hikaru (mentions of Hikaru/Akira)
disclaimer: I do not own Hikago - the characters, names, places, or situations.
summery: Hikaru talks too much and Waya is out of food
originally written for
blind_go ^__^
HEARD OVER TOKYO
"Shindou," Waya stated clearly into the phone to what had to be the biggest idiot on the planet. "I am not dating Isumi.
"Yeah. It's a go marriage. You sort of have to live together in order for it to work." Waya slammed the refrigerator door shut with his bare foot, cursing when the bottom of his cargos pulled over his heel.
"Look. Just because you can't stop bending Touya over--" Waya's face curled in disgust and looked as though he was seconds away from throwing the phone up against the wall. "That is sick. Sick, sick, and way too much information."
He tucked the bottle of Pocari Sweat under his armpit and stomped over to the rice cooker. "I didn't need to know that, okay? I was really much happier ten minutes ago before you called. It was nice to live in a world where I could pretend karma worked and Touya had an embarrassingly small dick."
Opening the bottle with a cheerful pop that contrasted its owner's face completely, Waya let out a soft wail. "Oh my god. Shut up. Please shut up because you're breaking my brain. I change my mind about wanting Touya's prick to be small. I want it to be nonexistent because then I wouldn't have to hear about it being up your ass. Or doing anything at all. So, just please shut up."
He went back to the freezer after discovering the cabinets to be empty of food, again, and dug around for something of substance, the phone pressed up to his ear by his shoulder. He flung an empty ice cream tub further into the back. "No, I do not want to hear about what you did in the Room of Profound Darkness last week, you freak!"
A small package of Pocky appeared beneath a set of unfilled ice trays and Waya ripped it open triumphantly. "No, not even if it involves camouflage." He leaned into the freezer, spiked hair littered with specs of ice chips as his head bobbed and crunched at the snack. "HA! And what did Ogata say when he walked in? No way, that is so twisted…"
Tucked against the doorway for support, clutching grocery bags in both hands, Isumi thought with growing despair, that this was why his mother always told him to knock before entering a room.
-.-.-.-.-
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