I did it!
Now no one has the right to kill me! I did, in fact, finish the amusing (if somewhat plotless) chapter two of Something like Chemistry!!!! It's terribly cute and I got to get out aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall my frustration over France's weather!
Title: Something Like Chemistry
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Rating: PG-13 overall
Genre: Romance/humor
Characters/Pairings: Watari/Tatsumi with a side of Tsuzuki/Hisoka
Wordcount: 4,040
Description: When the going gets tough, the tough make hair products.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Yami no Matsuei, but I have Watari’s hair! And I have learned to love it, even when it looks like a bush on rainy days.
Chapter Two: Hair Ribbons and Humidity
Before Tatsumi quite knew what was happening, they settled into another pattern. At eleven-thirty, plus or minus a few minutes, he somehow seemed to find himself heading to the lab day after day when he realized Watari wasn’t coming around to beg. Invariably, Watari would be busy at work on something, but just as invariably, there would be tea freshly brewed in a beaker on the counter, and the mugs were no longer hidden in the depths of the cabinets. So, waiting for Watari to wrap up his work, Tatsumi would pour tea and take a seat, because there was invariably a chair free for him now. The second time, he had come to try and get some of the answers he hadn’t gotten the first time around, and when he didn’t get them that time either, he returned a third and fourth time. By the end of the week he no longer expected the answers, truth be told-the strange places their conversations seemed to lead were interesting enough in and of themselves to keep him turning his steps towards the formerly forbidden zone of the laboratory, just as Watari turned out to be interesting enough to distract him from asking about the things he really wanted to know.
He didn’t fully realize what he was doing until one morning about a week after this all had started, when Kurosaki passed him in the hallway. “Tatsumi-san, could you please ask Watari where he bought that cake last week?” the boy asked in passing.
Tatsumi stopped. “Why?” he asked.
Kurosaki shrugged, blushed, and looked generally uncomfortable. “Tsuzuki wanted to know. He really liked it.”
“I mean, why are you asking me to ask Watari-san?” Tatsumi said slowly.
“Because you’re heading into the lab anyway?”
Since he was in the hallway just outside the bullpen and could be headed any number of places, this struck him as odd. “What gave you the impression I was going to the lab?”
Again something almost like a smile on Kurosaki’s face, and that was the fourth time he had seen it, and it continued to disturb him because it just wasn’t normal for him to be in such a good mood, and for so long on top of that. “It’s eleven-thirty,” the boy replied, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Excuse me, Tatsumi-san.”
He arrived in the lab as usual, stepped habitually around the penguin trying to get out and quickly shut the door-and realized this was, in fact, all rather habitual, the penguin trying to get out into the hallway and the stacks of papers and the bright pattern of sticky notes on the wall and the colorful mugs waiting for tea to be poured, as well as Watari at the computer terminal, holding a notepad and typing one-handed. “Be right with you,” the blond man murmured, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Just let me save this.” So Tatsumi headed to the Bunsen burner to pour the tea, because what was there to do, really?
When Watari at last looked up from the computer, whatever he was seeing on Tatsumi’s face made him choke down a laugh. “Good morning,” he said, maneuvering his wheeled computer chair around the mess on the floor to sit across from Tatsumi and pick up his mug. His hair was in a loose braid over his shoulder, but because it wasn’t tied off it seemed to be rapidly unraveling from the bottom, the tip a spill of color in Watari’s lap. Unbidden, the thought came that it would be best loose around his face instead of restrained-even barely, the way it was now. Restraint in anything didn’t suit Watari particularly well… and the thought was the clear product of a confusing, surreal week and nothing more. Because he had the sudden desire to reach over and shake the hair out of its plait, Tatsumi clasped his hands tightly around his mug instead.
“How long have you had the doorman?” he demanded, as the penguin waddled across the room to disappear behind a particularly tall stack of boxes.
Watari’s eyes laughed over the rim of his mug. “A few months. I’m sorry he hangs around the door like that; he knows you’re coming and it’s his only chance at escaping to explore since he can’t fly out the window like the rest of them. 003 says he envies them dreadfully. I was thinking of modifying a doggie door for him when I realized we were on the second floor. Maybe I’ll build a ramp, too, but I’m not at all sure of his mental capacities; he might never find his way back here…”
Never mind Kurosaki. Watari’s birds know what time I come to see him. There was something terribly wrong with that-definitely a pattern. He, the embodiment of reason, had fallen into a pattern of going to a place he habitually avoided to waste time and drink tea for half an hour a day with a man who was chaos incarnate.
“You look like you have a headache,” Watari said while he was still processing all of this. At Tatsumi’s blank look, he explained, “You get this little line just… there.” There was the brush of a cool fingertip just above the bridge of his nose, but before he could stiffen and snap at the man, Watari’s hands were back where they belonged and well away from his face. The offending hand reached up to tuck a few stray locks back into the messy braid, and once again Tatsumi found himself wishing it was loose around the scientist’s face and shoulders as it usually was. It would be heavy and warm with sunshine and tangle in his hands if he just reached out to undo the braid… “Did you want something for that?”
“For what?” He needed to stop thinking about Watari’s hair and how the light from the windows glinted off of it. Why was he thinking about Watari’s hair?
“The headache.”
He realized he no longer had a headache, though one had been building. “I don’t need anything.” It was as well that the headache had vanished as quickly as it had appeared-he was intelligent enough after a few years of communal work to seriously doubt Watari’s practical medical skills. He was much readier to trust him with complex curses and magical maladies than a headache or indigestion.
Watari only shrugged. “As you like it,” he said lightly. “I fixed Terazuma’s computer again, by the way. Barely. You might want to tell him that pounding all the keys at once when it doesn’t respond quickly enough to suit him is not the best way to get it functioning. It’s ancient; of course it’s going to lag. Even with my brilliance, I can’t keep resurrecting it forever; it’s already running more on magic than on mechanics, and that’s a surefire recipe for disaster.”
Tatsumi had heard all of this already-about computers disliking magical interference (though Watari could never properly explain why or even how they knew the difference) and veiled hints at the fact that the department was running on obsolete electronics. “I’ll let him know,” he said dryly. Not that Terazuma would listen, because even Tatsumi had the urge to hit the computers on occasion when they hiccupped, and he was a great deal more patient than Terazuma. “Actually, if you keep being a model employee and refrain from destroying anything for a while longer, the division may be able to swing an upgrade.” It would be tight, but without money constantly being filtered out to fix Watari’s cabinet doors or his counter or his window, it might be possible.
“Ah, and then the entire office will owe me a favor.” For some reason, Watari seemed to find this incredibly funny-he chuckled for a good minute before he could once again drink his tea without snorting. He shook his head, causing his braid to unravel a little further. For the first time he seemed to realize just what a pitiful state it was in. “Damn it, where do my hair ribbons go?” he asked no one in particular. “I swear someone hides them.”
Not the worst of ideas. That thought was enough to have him standing and heading to the door with an abrupt, “I need to get back to work.” Falling into pattern was one thing-and bad enough-but this ridiculous fixation had to go.
“See you tomorrow, Tatsumi!” Tatsumi didn’t turn as he walked out of the lab, or he would have seen a self-satisfied smile on Watari’s face as he tied off the end of his hair with a ribbon from his lab coat pocket.
***
Watari and Wakaba shared the same arch-nemesis.
Because no one else would listen to either of them whine about it (not even 003, which was terribly unfair considering Watari let her complain at length about any number of things) it was only normal that on the first rainy morning in months, Watari found a very unhappy girl waiting for him in his lab at the beginning of shift, feeding cookies to the small flock of birds gathered around her. When she saw he had come in, she wished him a good morning, followed immediately by an apology. “I’m sorry; I stole one of your hair ribbons.”
Because she looked as miserable as he felt, he only patted her on the shoulder as he headed past her to look out of the window. “It’s all right; I have others. You look like you need it.”
“I hate rain.” She joined him at the window and handed him a cookie. Though she had pulled her hair back as severely as she could with the borrowed ribbon, there was a nimbus around her face that clearly refused to be tamed. Because his own hair was also a bush that looked like he hadn’t combed it in days (never mind that he had taken a good hour forcing a brush through it this morning before braiding it-as had she with all likelihood) he completely understood the tragedy.
“We all hate rain,” he told her sourly.
“No, only the people cursed with curly hair,” she disagreed. “Hisoka-kun likes the rain. And Tsuzuki-san doesn’t even bother with an umbrella. He walks around letting himself get soaked and he doesn’t care at all. Even Hajime-chan doesn’t understand.” That last seemed to weigh heaviest on her mind, though Terazuma was definitely the least compassionate of the three.
“The world is full of stupid people with straight hair,” Watari told her consolingly, “who might be intelligent otherwise.” Well, not Terazuma, but adding that would hardly be kind when the girl was suffering. “At least you’re not in the field today.”
She smiled up at him. “That’s right; I should be thinking positive!” She lacked her usual spunk, but that was normal when one’s hair decided the only three directions it wanted to go were left, right and up. She smoothed her hands over her bangs (a futile gesture) and said, “I’ll let you get back to work. I don’t usually keep ribbons in my desk drawer and this was the best place I could think of to find one. Thank you.” She knelt to scratch the penguin under his chin.
“Anytime.” He felt better, as he was sure she did, simply by virtue of having someone to gripe with, but his mood was still sour. “Come by at lunch if you like.”
“I might. After Tatsumi-san, though.” Her smile seemed to regain some of its usual cheer. “Thank you, Watari-san!” She left with a wave.
Once she was gone, Watari headed over to the lab table and began to get out ingredients habitually. I really should be working on this at home, but desperate times and all that. At the least, he knew this recipe by heart and it wouldn’t take more than an hour.
Or it wouldn’t have until he decided to see if he could improve it.
He quickly became so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn’t even notice the clock nearing eleven-thirty, especially when the work refused to go the way he wanted it to. There was no tea prepared, one of the mugs was half-full of toxically pink foam which he was adding in tiny increments to the viscous mixture simmering under his critical gaze, and he didn’t even notice Tatsumi until 003 hooted a sleepy greeting from her perch on Watari’s head.
“Please tell me you don’t think I’m going to drink that.” Though Tatsumi’s voice was habitually polite, the sarcasm shone through.
Watari looked up at the other man (impeccable as always, and that was really starting to get on his nerves, especially on a day like today) blankly for a moment before he understood. “This isn’t for drinking.” He carefully poured the rest of the foam from the cup and set it in the sink for rinsing. He couldn’t believe it was already so late. “I’m sorry; I haven’t made the tea yet. Sit down.”
But Tatsumi, after looking at him a little oddly, turned around and headed towards the cabinet in the corner. “I’ll do it. You keep the tea somewhere around here, I believe?”
“Third shelf, red canister,” Watari said, turning back to his work and hiding a smile. A week ago, he might still have just walked out of here. However he had managed it, Tatsumi was too accustomed to their daily chats after two weeks to break pattern, and wasn’t that wonderful? Almost wonderful enough to make him stop caring that it was raining, but not quite wonderful enough to distract him from his all-important work.
“You should invest in a teapot, Watari-san,” Tatsumi told him in a few moments, having located the tea and filling a large beaker with water.
“I used to have one, but it broke,” Watari said, shrugging. Annoyed, he tossed his frizzy braid over his shoulder when the tip threatened to get into the mixture he was stirring. “Maybe I’ll shave my head,” he said ominously. He could only hope none of his hair had fallen in to ruin it.
He actually saw Tatsumi’s hands falter for a minute before they returned to thoroughly rinsing out the mug he had been using. “Oh?” The single word seemed loaded with meaning.
Watari left his potion to fend for itself for a while and picked up the mug of tea Tatsumi had poured him. The back of his neck itched because of unruly hairs that refused to stay in the braid and were trying to get under his turtleneck, and he was irritated. “Well, why not?”
There was an expression on Tatsumi’s face that was very close to confusion for a moment. “It would certainly be… a change.” His face remained mostly impassive after that brief flash of emotion, but the vocabulary choice made his opinion on the matter clear: Tatsumi didn’t approve of changes.
“Maybe,” Watari said again, because he was feeling disagreeable.
There was silence for a few moments. Obviously uncomfortable with it, the secretary suddenly spoke up. “It’s a pleasant day. It rains too rarely.”
Watari shoved down the desire to glare. “I’m glad someone thinks so,” he said, trying not to sound peevish.
Again, silence for a few moments. “What… ah… is this?” Tatsumi gestured at the simmering mixture.
“A powerful weapon against a formidable enemy,” Watari replied evasively.
“…It smells like chamomile,” Tatsumi pointed out, his eyebrow raised as he regarded the simmering pink stuff with distrust.
“Among other things.”
“And it’s pink.”
“Good observation,” Watari said dryly. He really didn’t feel capable of holding up his end of the conversation. He had a potion that never worked as well as he wanted it to, a bird’s nest on his head (both literally and figuratively) and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to tint it another color-it just wouldn’t take.
Now there was definitely confusion on Tatsumi’s face, and then he set aside his mug. “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”
Watari waved at him absently because the stuff was threatening to become too thin-again-and it needed his full attention.
When Wakaba popped into the lab an hour later, he was just capping off a plastic bottle filled with the cooling, creamy mixture. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “It’s better than the last one, though I can’t say by how much.”
She took it with a radiant smile. “Every little bit helps,” she said fervently. Then, “Tatsumi-san lets you make hair products on company time now?”
Watari filled the second bottle standing in wait for the remaining conditioner. “This is war,” he told the girl, and worked up a bit of a smile, though the fact that he still couldn’t manage a perfect cure for humidity rankled. “And what Tatsumi doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”
For that, most of the office would say I’m very brave or very stupid. The thought made him grin. Or maybe very sure of myself.
***
Whatever had been wrong with Watari yesterday seemed to have passed. Tatsumi didn’t realize how much the man’s strangely closed-off behavior had been disturbing him until the sunny morning after the refreshing rainstorm, when the grinning scientist swept into his office at the beginning of shift with an exuberant, “Good morning, Tatsumi! Isn’t it a beautiful day?” which he followed by perching on the corner of the secretary’s desk and handing over a folder full of the routine observation reports for his region.
Even as Tatsumi raised his eyebrow and looked up at the blond man derisively (no one dared sit on his desk, not even Tsuzuki) he realized he was unduly relieved to see Watari’s grinning face, and that he had actually missed having him in the office.
Watari seemed entirely immune to the glare, though. He seemed to be in a better mood than usual today. As Tatsumi opened the folder to check through the documents contained within, he noted absently that something (probably Watari’s lab coat) was faintly giving off the same soothing chamomile odor he had smelled in the lab the day before. “Thank you for finishing this promptly, Watari-san,” Tatsumi said. Not only was it prompt, he knew it would also be accurate and painstakingly detailed. If only Tsuzuki made half the effort, his job would be so much easier… He stopped on the last page. “You forgot to sign this.”
“Did I?” the blond man asked. “I’m not too surprised; I’ve been distracted… damn, where’s a pen?” Before Tatsumi could offer one of his, the blond reached behind his head and yanked a pen out of the messy knot his hair was pulled into. Apparently, the pen was the only thing holding it up, because the moment Watari had it in hand the knot unraveled, causing his hair to swing forward, and Tatsumi was the one distracted. Watari leaned over the desk to bend over the papers and place a scrawling signature on them, and Tatsumi found himself much closer to the other man than he had ever been previously.
He would probably have gotten a mouthful of hair if he opened his mouth to speak. That same sweet smell tinged with chamomile was everywhere and there were heavy locks of hair that had fallen to rest on his hands which were folded on the desk, as if daring him to turn his hands palm up and check if it felt the way he thought it did. He couldn’t help himself, and it turned out he had been right-the gold strands were warm and soft and heavy sliding over his palms and fingers-but all of this insanity lasted only moments, because once his name was signed on the page Watari looked up and they were almost nose to nose. And I really should say something, like, “Are you planning to get off of my desk anytime soon, Watari-san? Now would be appropriate.” But despite knowing that he should, Tatsumi couldn’t seem to manage to say that, or anything at all. For some reason he felt rather dazed.
Amber eyes full of good humor regarded him for a moment, then suddenly the man perched on his desk shifted, and there was a cool hand resting on Tatsumi’s forehead. “...Not too warm,” he finally said, not hastening to remove his hand, though. “You’re probably just tired. I’ve never seen you collapse from exhaustion, but even you must reach your limit sometime.”
The everyday, simple phrase and the altogether obvious breach of personal space of the hand resting lightly on his face (never mind that he himself had been on the brink of gripping onto his co-worker’s hair) somehow snapped Tatsumi back to his usual self, and he was able to look coolly up at the scientist and inform him wryly, “I doubt I’m anywhere near my limit, Watari-san.”
The hand on his forehead was immediately withdrawn to reach up and gather the messy spill of blond hair across the desk. It slid easily through Tatsumi’s fingers and out of his hands. “No, that’s a silly assumption, I suppose. You just seemed off for a minute. Maybe it’s me who’s off.” He hopped off of the desk and was once again a respectful distance away. “Did you want anything else?”
Because a few of the answers that came immediately to mind were hardly work appropriate, Tatsumi forced his face into an expression of polite indifference. “No, thank you, Watari-san.”
If the cold tone affected him, Watari showed no sign. He only shrugged with his usual cheerful smile. “See you at eleven-thirty then!” he said brightly, and left the office with a very unprofessional wink and a wave.
After a few moments of sitting and staring blankly at the closed door, Tatsumi shook himself out of… whatever it was… and got back to work. When he left the office a few minutes later to head down to the bullpen with the intention of demanding Tsuzuki’s reports for the past two months, he wasn’t thinking about anything that wasn’t strictly work-related-at least, until he noted a scrap of red satin on the floor near Kannuki’s desk which he immediately recognized as one of Watari’s hair ribbons.
No one is hiding them, he’s just dropping them everywhere. He picked it up, absently sticking it into his pocket to give back later that day, then continued on his way.
***
“I’m sorry, Watari-san, I lost your hair ribbon.”
Watari looked up to see Wakaba in the doorway of the lab. 003 immediately fluttered off of his shoulder to say hello to the smiling girl-and she was smiling, and brightly, despite the apology. “That’s all right,” Watari told her. Something told him he wasn’t going to be tying his hair back for a while, anyway.
“But you know, Yuma told me something strange earlier this afternoon,” the girl continued gaily. “She says she saw Tatsumi-san pick it up and put it in his pocket. He probably gave it back to you already.”
A smile to match hers grew on Watari’s face. “Oh? He was here earlier today, but he didn’t say anything.”
“Isn’t that strange?” Wakaba mused, tapping a finger against her chin and looking for all the world innocent as an angel. It seemed everyone in the office was an adept at that look. “Well, I hope you recover it soon.”
“I’m sure I’ll get it back eventually,” Watari said. “Thanks, Wakaba-chan!”
She nodded and left with a wave. 003 fluttered back to Watari’s shoulder and hooted amusedly right into his ear. “Yes, he is rather hard to crack, isn’t he?” Watari said to her. “Well, that’s all right, I’ll get it in the end.” The owl, clearly agreeing, took off, and landed on the tip of one of the Petri dishes sitting on the edge of the lab table. “Good idea!” Watari responded. “It’s been a while since I destroyed anything... I’m going to have to make sure to ward the new microscope, though-I really wouldn’t want to lose it...”
003’s chirp sounded remarkably like a giggle as Watari set to work. Time for stage two.
Chapter 3: When All Else Fails
Title: Something Like Chemistry
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Rating: PG-13 overall
Genre: Romance/humor
Characters/Pairings: Watari/Tatsumi with a side of Tsuzuki/Hisoka
Wordcount: 4,040
Description: When the going gets tough, the tough make hair products.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Yami no Matsuei, but I have Watari’s hair! And I have learned to love it, even when it looks like a bush on rainy days.
Chapter Two: Hair Ribbons and Humidity
Before Tatsumi quite knew what was happening, they settled into another pattern. At eleven-thirty, plus or minus a few minutes, he somehow seemed to find himself heading to the lab day after day when he realized Watari wasn’t coming around to beg. Invariably, Watari would be busy at work on something, but just as invariably, there would be tea freshly brewed in a beaker on the counter, and the mugs were no longer hidden in the depths of the cabinets. So, waiting for Watari to wrap up his work, Tatsumi would pour tea and take a seat, because there was invariably a chair free for him now. The second time, he had come to try and get some of the answers he hadn’t gotten the first time around, and when he didn’t get them that time either, he returned a third and fourth time. By the end of the week he no longer expected the answers, truth be told-the strange places their conversations seemed to lead were interesting enough in and of themselves to keep him turning his steps towards the formerly forbidden zone of the laboratory, just as Watari turned out to be interesting enough to distract him from asking about the things he really wanted to know.
He didn’t fully realize what he was doing until one morning about a week after this all had started, when Kurosaki passed him in the hallway. “Tatsumi-san, could you please ask Watari where he bought that cake last week?” the boy asked in passing.
Tatsumi stopped. “Why?” he asked.
Kurosaki shrugged, blushed, and looked generally uncomfortable. “Tsuzuki wanted to know. He really liked it.”
“I mean, why are you asking me to ask Watari-san?” Tatsumi said slowly.
“Because you’re heading into the lab anyway?”
Since he was in the hallway just outside the bullpen and could be headed any number of places, this struck him as odd. “What gave you the impression I was going to the lab?”
Again something almost like a smile on Kurosaki’s face, and that was the fourth time he had seen it, and it continued to disturb him because it just wasn’t normal for him to be in such a good mood, and for so long on top of that. “It’s eleven-thirty,” the boy replied, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Excuse me, Tatsumi-san.”
He arrived in the lab as usual, stepped habitually around the penguin trying to get out and quickly shut the door-and realized this was, in fact, all rather habitual, the penguin trying to get out into the hallway and the stacks of papers and the bright pattern of sticky notes on the wall and the colorful mugs waiting for tea to be poured, as well as Watari at the computer terminal, holding a notepad and typing one-handed. “Be right with you,” the blond man murmured, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Just let me save this.” So Tatsumi headed to the Bunsen burner to pour the tea, because what was there to do, really?
When Watari at last looked up from the computer, whatever he was seeing on Tatsumi’s face made him choke down a laugh. “Good morning,” he said, maneuvering his wheeled computer chair around the mess on the floor to sit across from Tatsumi and pick up his mug. His hair was in a loose braid over his shoulder, but because it wasn’t tied off it seemed to be rapidly unraveling from the bottom, the tip a spill of color in Watari’s lap. Unbidden, the thought came that it would be best loose around his face instead of restrained-even barely, the way it was now. Restraint in anything didn’t suit Watari particularly well… and the thought was the clear product of a confusing, surreal week and nothing more. Because he had the sudden desire to reach over and shake the hair out of its plait, Tatsumi clasped his hands tightly around his mug instead.
“How long have you had the doorman?” he demanded, as the penguin waddled across the room to disappear behind a particularly tall stack of boxes.
Watari’s eyes laughed over the rim of his mug. “A few months. I’m sorry he hangs around the door like that; he knows you’re coming and it’s his only chance at escaping to explore since he can’t fly out the window like the rest of them. 003 says he envies them dreadfully. I was thinking of modifying a doggie door for him when I realized we were on the second floor. Maybe I’ll build a ramp, too, but I’m not at all sure of his mental capacities; he might never find his way back here…”
Never mind Kurosaki. Watari’s birds know what time I come to see him. There was something terribly wrong with that-definitely a pattern. He, the embodiment of reason, had fallen into a pattern of going to a place he habitually avoided to waste time and drink tea for half an hour a day with a man who was chaos incarnate.
“You look like you have a headache,” Watari said while he was still processing all of this. At Tatsumi’s blank look, he explained, “You get this little line just… there.” There was the brush of a cool fingertip just above the bridge of his nose, but before he could stiffen and snap at the man, Watari’s hands were back where they belonged and well away from his face. The offending hand reached up to tuck a few stray locks back into the messy braid, and once again Tatsumi found himself wishing it was loose around the scientist’s face and shoulders as it usually was. It would be heavy and warm with sunshine and tangle in his hands if he just reached out to undo the braid… “Did you want something for that?”
“For what?” He needed to stop thinking about Watari’s hair and how the light from the windows glinted off of it. Why was he thinking about Watari’s hair?
“The headache.”
He realized he no longer had a headache, though one had been building. “I don’t need anything.” It was as well that the headache had vanished as quickly as it had appeared-he was intelligent enough after a few years of communal work to seriously doubt Watari’s practical medical skills. He was much readier to trust him with complex curses and magical maladies than a headache or indigestion.
Watari only shrugged. “As you like it,” he said lightly. “I fixed Terazuma’s computer again, by the way. Barely. You might want to tell him that pounding all the keys at once when it doesn’t respond quickly enough to suit him is not the best way to get it functioning. It’s ancient; of course it’s going to lag. Even with my brilliance, I can’t keep resurrecting it forever; it’s already running more on magic than on mechanics, and that’s a surefire recipe for disaster.”
Tatsumi had heard all of this already-about computers disliking magical interference (though Watari could never properly explain why or even how they knew the difference) and veiled hints at the fact that the department was running on obsolete electronics. “I’ll let him know,” he said dryly. Not that Terazuma would listen, because even Tatsumi had the urge to hit the computers on occasion when they hiccupped, and he was a great deal more patient than Terazuma. “Actually, if you keep being a model employee and refrain from destroying anything for a while longer, the division may be able to swing an upgrade.” It would be tight, but without money constantly being filtered out to fix Watari’s cabinet doors or his counter or his window, it might be possible.
“Ah, and then the entire office will owe me a favor.” For some reason, Watari seemed to find this incredibly funny-he chuckled for a good minute before he could once again drink his tea without snorting. He shook his head, causing his braid to unravel a little further. For the first time he seemed to realize just what a pitiful state it was in. “Damn it, where do my hair ribbons go?” he asked no one in particular. “I swear someone hides them.”
Not the worst of ideas. That thought was enough to have him standing and heading to the door with an abrupt, “I need to get back to work.” Falling into pattern was one thing-and bad enough-but this ridiculous fixation had to go.
“See you tomorrow, Tatsumi!” Tatsumi didn’t turn as he walked out of the lab, or he would have seen a self-satisfied smile on Watari’s face as he tied off the end of his hair with a ribbon from his lab coat pocket.
***
Watari and Wakaba shared the same arch-nemesis.
Because no one else would listen to either of them whine about it (not even 003, which was terribly unfair considering Watari let her complain at length about any number of things) it was only normal that on the first rainy morning in months, Watari found a very unhappy girl waiting for him in his lab at the beginning of shift, feeding cookies to the small flock of birds gathered around her. When she saw he had come in, she wished him a good morning, followed immediately by an apology. “I’m sorry; I stole one of your hair ribbons.”
Because she looked as miserable as he felt, he only patted her on the shoulder as he headed past her to look out of the window. “It’s all right; I have others. You look like you need it.”
“I hate rain.” She joined him at the window and handed him a cookie. Though she had pulled her hair back as severely as she could with the borrowed ribbon, there was a nimbus around her face that clearly refused to be tamed. Because his own hair was also a bush that looked like he hadn’t combed it in days (never mind that he had taken a good hour forcing a brush through it this morning before braiding it-as had she with all likelihood) he completely understood the tragedy.
“We all hate rain,” he told her sourly.
“No, only the people cursed with curly hair,” she disagreed. “Hisoka-kun likes the rain. And Tsuzuki-san doesn’t even bother with an umbrella. He walks around letting himself get soaked and he doesn’t care at all. Even Hajime-chan doesn’t understand.” That last seemed to weigh heaviest on her mind, though Terazuma was definitely the least compassionate of the three.
“The world is full of stupid people with straight hair,” Watari told her consolingly, “who might be intelligent otherwise.” Well, not Terazuma, but adding that would hardly be kind when the girl was suffering. “At least you’re not in the field today.”
She smiled up at him. “That’s right; I should be thinking positive!” She lacked her usual spunk, but that was normal when one’s hair decided the only three directions it wanted to go were left, right and up. She smoothed her hands over her bangs (a futile gesture) and said, “I’ll let you get back to work. I don’t usually keep ribbons in my desk drawer and this was the best place I could think of to find one. Thank you.” She knelt to scratch the penguin under his chin.
“Anytime.” He felt better, as he was sure she did, simply by virtue of having someone to gripe with, but his mood was still sour. “Come by at lunch if you like.”
“I might. After Tatsumi-san, though.” Her smile seemed to regain some of its usual cheer. “Thank you, Watari-san!” She left with a wave.
Once she was gone, Watari headed over to the lab table and began to get out ingredients habitually. I really should be working on this at home, but desperate times and all that. At the least, he knew this recipe by heart and it wouldn’t take more than an hour.
Or it wouldn’t have until he decided to see if he could improve it.
He quickly became so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn’t even notice the clock nearing eleven-thirty, especially when the work refused to go the way he wanted it to. There was no tea prepared, one of the mugs was half-full of toxically pink foam which he was adding in tiny increments to the viscous mixture simmering under his critical gaze, and he didn’t even notice Tatsumi until 003 hooted a sleepy greeting from her perch on Watari’s head.
“Please tell me you don’t think I’m going to drink that.” Though Tatsumi’s voice was habitually polite, the sarcasm shone through.
Watari looked up at the other man (impeccable as always, and that was really starting to get on his nerves, especially on a day like today) blankly for a moment before he understood. “This isn’t for drinking.” He carefully poured the rest of the foam from the cup and set it in the sink for rinsing. He couldn’t believe it was already so late. “I’m sorry; I haven’t made the tea yet. Sit down.”
But Tatsumi, after looking at him a little oddly, turned around and headed towards the cabinet in the corner. “I’ll do it. You keep the tea somewhere around here, I believe?”
“Third shelf, red canister,” Watari said, turning back to his work and hiding a smile. A week ago, he might still have just walked out of here. However he had managed it, Tatsumi was too accustomed to their daily chats after two weeks to break pattern, and wasn’t that wonderful? Almost wonderful enough to make him stop caring that it was raining, but not quite wonderful enough to distract him from his all-important work.
“You should invest in a teapot, Watari-san,” Tatsumi told him in a few moments, having located the tea and filling a large beaker with water.
“I used to have one, but it broke,” Watari said, shrugging. Annoyed, he tossed his frizzy braid over his shoulder when the tip threatened to get into the mixture he was stirring. “Maybe I’ll shave my head,” he said ominously. He could only hope none of his hair had fallen in to ruin it.
He actually saw Tatsumi’s hands falter for a minute before they returned to thoroughly rinsing out the mug he had been using. “Oh?” The single word seemed loaded with meaning.
Watari left his potion to fend for itself for a while and picked up the mug of tea Tatsumi had poured him. The back of his neck itched because of unruly hairs that refused to stay in the braid and were trying to get under his turtleneck, and he was irritated. “Well, why not?”
There was an expression on Tatsumi’s face that was very close to confusion for a moment. “It would certainly be… a change.” His face remained mostly impassive after that brief flash of emotion, but the vocabulary choice made his opinion on the matter clear: Tatsumi didn’t approve of changes.
“Maybe,” Watari said again, because he was feeling disagreeable.
There was silence for a few moments. Obviously uncomfortable with it, the secretary suddenly spoke up. “It’s a pleasant day. It rains too rarely.”
Watari shoved down the desire to glare. “I’m glad someone thinks so,” he said, trying not to sound peevish.
Again, silence for a few moments. “What… ah… is this?” Tatsumi gestured at the simmering mixture.
“A powerful weapon against a formidable enemy,” Watari replied evasively.
“…It smells like chamomile,” Tatsumi pointed out, his eyebrow raised as he regarded the simmering pink stuff with distrust.
“Among other things.”
“And it’s pink.”
“Good observation,” Watari said dryly. He really didn’t feel capable of holding up his end of the conversation. He had a potion that never worked as well as he wanted it to, a bird’s nest on his head (both literally and figuratively) and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to tint it another color-it just wouldn’t take.
Now there was definitely confusion on Tatsumi’s face, and then he set aside his mug. “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”
Watari waved at him absently because the stuff was threatening to become too thin-again-and it needed his full attention.
When Wakaba popped into the lab an hour later, he was just capping off a plastic bottle filled with the cooling, creamy mixture. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “It’s better than the last one, though I can’t say by how much.”
She took it with a radiant smile. “Every little bit helps,” she said fervently. Then, “Tatsumi-san lets you make hair products on company time now?”
Watari filled the second bottle standing in wait for the remaining conditioner. “This is war,” he told the girl, and worked up a bit of a smile, though the fact that he still couldn’t manage a perfect cure for humidity rankled. “And what Tatsumi doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”
For that, most of the office would say I’m very brave or very stupid. The thought made him grin. Or maybe very sure of myself.
***
Whatever had been wrong with Watari yesterday seemed to have passed. Tatsumi didn’t realize how much the man’s strangely closed-off behavior had been disturbing him until the sunny morning after the refreshing rainstorm, when the grinning scientist swept into his office at the beginning of shift with an exuberant, “Good morning, Tatsumi! Isn’t it a beautiful day?” which he followed by perching on the corner of the secretary’s desk and handing over a folder full of the routine observation reports for his region.
Even as Tatsumi raised his eyebrow and looked up at the blond man derisively (no one dared sit on his desk, not even Tsuzuki) he realized he was unduly relieved to see Watari’s grinning face, and that he had actually missed having him in the office.
Watari seemed entirely immune to the glare, though. He seemed to be in a better mood than usual today. As Tatsumi opened the folder to check through the documents contained within, he noted absently that something (probably Watari’s lab coat) was faintly giving off the same soothing chamomile odor he had smelled in the lab the day before. “Thank you for finishing this promptly, Watari-san,” Tatsumi said. Not only was it prompt, he knew it would also be accurate and painstakingly detailed. If only Tsuzuki made half the effort, his job would be so much easier… He stopped on the last page. “You forgot to sign this.”
“Did I?” the blond man asked. “I’m not too surprised; I’ve been distracted… damn, where’s a pen?” Before Tatsumi could offer one of his, the blond reached behind his head and yanked a pen out of the messy knot his hair was pulled into. Apparently, the pen was the only thing holding it up, because the moment Watari had it in hand the knot unraveled, causing his hair to swing forward, and Tatsumi was the one distracted. Watari leaned over the desk to bend over the papers and place a scrawling signature on them, and Tatsumi found himself much closer to the other man than he had ever been previously.
He would probably have gotten a mouthful of hair if he opened his mouth to speak. That same sweet smell tinged with chamomile was everywhere and there were heavy locks of hair that had fallen to rest on his hands which were folded on the desk, as if daring him to turn his hands palm up and check if it felt the way he thought it did. He couldn’t help himself, and it turned out he had been right-the gold strands were warm and soft and heavy sliding over his palms and fingers-but all of this insanity lasted only moments, because once his name was signed on the page Watari looked up and they were almost nose to nose. And I really should say something, like, “Are you planning to get off of my desk anytime soon, Watari-san? Now would be appropriate.” But despite knowing that he should, Tatsumi couldn’t seem to manage to say that, or anything at all. For some reason he felt rather dazed.
Amber eyes full of good humor regarded him for a moment, then suddenly the man perched on his desk shifted, and there was a cool hand resting on Tatsumi’s forehead. “...Not too warm,” he finally said, not hastening to remove his hand, though. “You’re probably just tired. I’ve never seen you collapse from exhaustion, but even you must reach your limit sometime.”
The everyday, simple phrase and the altogether obvious breach of personal space of the hand resting lightly on his face (never mind that he himself had been on the brink of gripping onto his co-worker’s hair) somehow snapped Tatsumi back to his usual self, and he was able to look coolly up at the scientist and inform him wryly, “I doubt I’m anywhere near my limit, Watari-san.”
The hand on his forehead was immediately withdrawn to reach up and gather the messy spill of blond hair across the desk. It slid easily through Tatsumi’s fingers and out of his hands. “No, that’s a silly assumption, I suppose. You just seemed off for a minute. Maybe it’s me who’s off.” He hopped off of the desk and was once again a respectful distance away. “Did you want anything else?”
Because a few of the answers that came immediately to mind were hardly work appropriate, Tatsumi forced his face into an expression of polite indifference. “No, thank you, Watari-san.”
If the cold tone affected him, Watari showed no sign. He only shrugged with his usual cheerful smile. “See you at eleven-thirty then!” he said brightly, and left the office with a very unprofessional wink and a wave.
After a few moments of sitting and staring blankly at the closed door, Tatsumi shook himself out of… whatever it was… and got back to work. When he left the office a few minutes later to head down to the bullpen with the intention of demanding Tsuzuki’s reports for the past two months, he wasn’t thinking about anything that wasn’t strictly work-related-at least, until he noted a scrap of red satin on the floor near Kannuki’s desk which he immediately recognized as one of Watari’s hair ribbons.
No one is hiding them, he’s just dropping them everywhere. He picked it up, absently sticking it into his pocket to give back later that day, then continued on his way.
***
“I’m sorry, Watari-san, I lost your hair ribbon.”
Watari looked up to see Wakaba in the doorway of the lab. 003 immediately fluttered off of his shoulder to say hello to the smiling girl-and she was smiling, and brightly, despite the apology. “That’s all right,” Watari told her. Something told him he wasn’t going to be tying his hair back for a while, anyway.
“But you know, Yuma told me something strange earlier this afternoon,” the girl continued gaily. “She says she saw Tatsumi-san pick it up and put it in his pocket. He probably gave it back to you already.”
A smile to match hers grew on Watari’s face. “Oh? He was here earlier today, but he didn’t say anything.”
“Isn’t that strange?” Wakaba mused, tapping a finger against her chin and looking for all the world innocent as an angel. It seemed everyone in the office was an adept at that look. “Well, I hope you recover it soon.”
“I’m sure I’ll get it back eventually,” Watari said. “Thanks, Wakaba-chan!”
She nodded and left with a wave. 003 fluttered back to Watari’s shoulder and hooted amusedly right into his ear. “Yes, he is rather hard to crack, isn’t he?” Watari said to her. “Well, that’s all right, I’ll get it in the end.” The owl, clearly agreeing, took off, and landed on the tip of one of the Petri dishes sitting on the edge of the lab table. “Good idea!” Watari responded. “It’s been a while since I destroyed anything... I’m going to have to make sure to ward the new microscope, though-I really wouldn’t want to lose it...”
003’s chirp sounded remarkably like a giggle as Watari set to work. Time for stage two.
Chapter 3: When All Else Fails