Yami no Matsuei
Office gossip
by mei
Pairing: Tatari
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Total fluff.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei or any of it's associated characters, and make no profit from this foray into fiction. Other standard disclaimers apply.
A/N: Yes Bern, I'm going home now...
--------------------
There was a slim glass vase holding an elegant arrangement of purple and white blooms sitting in the exact center of the table. It sent almost everyone in the small Shokan office into a gossiping mood, all eager to find out who was the bold being who dared test Tatsumi’s stringent ways of productivity in the workplace.
At nine thirty, Wakaba happily announced that the flowers held a message of apology and secret love. The bit of information spread like wildfire, especially feeding Yuma and Saya’s conviction that Hisoka was finally getting in touch with his emotional side.
The youngest shinigami avoided them all he could, and would have revealed the name of whom had left the flowers, but Hisoka made it his business not to get into another’s.
Unfortunately for him, Yuma and Saya had made it their mission to uncover the "romantically doomed office love affair".
*******
At eleven, the pair overseeing Hokkaido cornered Hisoka when he was getting cookies for his partner. As Hisoka mentally cursed his admitted soft spot for the man, Terazuma stalked past the door and caught sight of the flowers.
"Goddamned annoying things." His irritation with the innocuous arrangement was loud enough to reach the trio in the room.
"Yuma."
"Isn’t he the prickly one?"
"And Wakaba was positively beaming, when she saw them." The girls looked at each other.
"They say the prickly ones are those with the squishiest hearts." It was like an epiphany.
Hisoka shook his head when the girls ran off in pursuit of Terazuma, and left after making sure they were no longer in his vicinity. Tsuzuki had better appreciate these cookies.
*******
At two, after lunch, the arrangement had been talked about, touched, and admired so often, that the purple blooms looked somewhat exhausted.
A pair of hands gently touched the sprig, wondering why the Meifu sakura could live decades when these had trouble lasting half a day.
Silently laughing eyes shone with amusement and affection from the door.
*******
At three thirty, Terazuma had transformed, and Tatsumi had scathingly informed the office that though damages were minimal (some stone steps in front of the building had been crushed), the price of repair would fall on Yuma and Saya.
Tatsumi had cut off their protests with a sharp retort. "Flowers aren’t part of your work."
And no one dared argue with the Secretary.
*******
At four fifty-five, the girls drew up enough blanks and enough courage to approach the second most dangerous place in the building.
Watari’s lab.
"Better to get this done with, Yuma."
"Right." They threw open the door.
And shrieked when the toucan rushed them.
They learnt then that lack of forewarning when entering Watari’s lab could result in chemical experiments gone painfully wrong.
*******
At six thirty, finally their correct skin tone and texture again, the girls faced Tatsumi.
It was no easy experience, that. Saya wished for a case to take them away from the office, and Yuma bit her lip so as to not blurt out her final prayers.
Tatsumi took a long, serious look at them, and told them to go home. "You have a file to work on, starting tomorrow."
They met Watari, hair unbound, grinning at them as they passed. He was holding the much talked-about flowers.
"Lovely flowers, don’t you think? Wakaba-chan was wrong on one thing though: jonquils speak of returned affection more than secret love. That would been a gardenia." With that, he beamed at his colleagues and continued on his way.
Into Tatsumi’s office.
"Yuma."
"He’s positively glowing."
"...The lock just clicked into place, I think." They looked at the shut door.
*******
"It’s close to ten," Watari smiled, resting his fingers lightly along his lover’s neck, who was currently massaging the small of Watari’s back and pressing a tender kiss above his ear.
"And?"
"You haven’t had a thing to eat all day." At the brief arch of eyebrows, Watari laughed. "I meant food, you workaholic."
"And I suppose you’re the nymphomaniac then?" Tatsumi nuzzled the soft skin below Watari’s neck.
"With a tendency to make sure his beloved stays fed. Which, given that you’re the better cook, I find ironic."
Tatsumi had moved away to gather the scattered clothing, and Watari bit back any mention of the loss of warmth, opting to watch the pull and stretch of limbs as Tatsumi tidied up. And to take the hand offered, to pull himself off the carpeted floor.
That hand shifted to hold him close, and he felt Tatsumi sigh as the older man buried his nose in Watari’s hair. "I’m forgiven, then?"
Watari wanted to laugh and say, then what did you think the last few hours were? Instead, he pulled back slightly with a smile. "Only if you take that pile of clothing, myself, our shoes, and teleport us home." He let his smile turn a shade wistful. "The little cot in the old apartment isn’t half as comfortable as the one at home. Or half as warm without you."
On Tatsumi’s desk sat the vase, a little wilted, but they had served their purpose.
--------------------
end
C&C appreciated.
by mei
Pairing: Tatari
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Total fluff.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei or any of it's associated characters, and make no profit from this foray into fiction. Other standard disclaimers apply.
A/N: Yes Bern, I'm going home now...
--------------------
There was a slim glass vase holding an elegant arrangement of purple and white blooms sitting in the exact center of the table. It sent almost everyone in the small Shokan office into a gossiping mood, all eager to find out who was the bold being who dared test Tatsumi’s stringent ways of productivity in the workplace.
At nine thirty, Wakaba happily announced that the flowers held a message of apology and secret love. The bit of information spread like wildfire, especially feeding Yuma and Saya’s conviction that Hisoka was finally getting in touch with his emotional side.
The youngest shinigami avoided them all he could, and would have revealed the name of whom had left the flowers, but Hisoka made it his business not to get into another’s.
Unfortunately for him, Yuma and Saya had made it their mission to uncover the "romantically doomed office love affair".
*******
At eleven, the pair overseeing Hokkaido cornered Hisoka when he was getting cookies for his partner. As Hisoka mentally cursed his admitted soft spot for the man, Terazuma stalked past the door and caught sight of the flowers.
"Goddamned annoying things." His irritation with the innocuous arrangement was loud enough to reach the trio in the room.
"Yuma."
"Isn’t he the prickly one?"
"And Wakaba was positively beaming, when she saw them." The girls looked at each other.
"They say the prickly ones are those with the squishiest hearts." It was like an epiphany.
Hisoka shook his head when the girls ran off in pursuit of Terazuma, and left after making sure they were no longer in his vicinity. Tsuzuki had better appreciate these cookies.
*******
At two, after lunch, the arrangement had been talked about, touched, and admired so often, that the purple blooms looked somewhat exhausted.
A pair of hands gently touched the sprig, wondering why the Meifu sakura could live decades when these had trouble lasting half a day.
Silently laughing eyes shone with amusement and affection from the door.
*******
At three thirty, Terazuma had transformed, and Tatsumi had scathingly informed the office that though damages were minimal (some stone steps in front of the building had been crushed), the price of repair would fall on Yuma and Saya.
Tatsumi had cut off their protests with a sharp retort. "Flowers aren’t part of your work."
And no one dared argue with the Secretary.
*******
At four fifty-five, the girls drew up enough blanks and enough courage to approach the second most dangerous place in the building.
Watari’s lab.
"Better to get this done with, Yuma."
"Right." They threw open the door.
And shrieked when the toucan rushed them.
They learnt then that lack of forewarning when entering Watari’s lab could result in chemical experiments gone painfully wrong.
*******
At six thirty, finally their correct skin tone and texture again, the girls faced Tatsumi.
It was no easy experience, that. Saya wished for a case to take them away from the office, and Yuma bit her lip so as to not blurt out her final prayers.
Tatsumi took a long, serious look at them, and told them to go home. "You have a file to work on, starting tomorrow."
They met Watari, hair unbound, grinning at them as they passed. He was holding the much talked-about flowers.
"Lovely flowers, don’t you think? Wakaba-chan was wrong on one thing though: jonquils speak of returned affection more than secret love. That would been a gardenia." With that, he beamed at his colleagues and continued on his way.
Into Tatsumi’s office.
"Yuma."
"He’s positively glowing."
"...The lock just clicked into place, I think." They looked at the shut door.
*******
"It’s close to ten," Watari smiled, resting his fingers lightly along his lover’s neck, who was currently massaging the small of Watari’s back and pressing a tender kiss above his ear.
"And?"
"You haven’t had a thing to eat all day." At the brief arch of eyebrows, Watari laughed. "I meant food, you workaholic."
"And I suppose you’re the nymphomaniac then?" Tatsumi nuzzled the soft skin below Watari’s neck.
"With a tendency to make sure his beloved stays fed. Which, given that you’re the better cook, I find ironic."
Tatsumi had moved away to gather the scattered clothing, and Watari bit back any mention of the loss of warmth, opting to watch the pull and stretch of limbs as Tatsumi tidied up. And to take the hand offered, to pull himself off the carpeted floor.
That hand shifted to hold him close, and he felt Tatsumi sigh as the older man buried his nose in Watari’s hair. "I’m forgiven, then?"
Watari wanted to laugh and say, then what did you think the last few hours were? Instead, he pulled back slightly with a smile. "Only if you take that pile of clothing, myself, our shoes, and teleport us home." He let his smile turn a shade wistful. "The little cot in the old apartment isn’t half as comfortable as the one at home. Or half as warm without you."
On Tatsumi’s desk sat the vase, a little wilted, but they had served their purpose.
--------------------
end
C&C appreciated.