Fanfic: Rice
Title: Rice (Part 1 of 3)
Pairing: Doumeki x Watanuki FOREVER~!
Rating: PG
Summary: Watanuki, Doumeki, and bits of food sticking to oh-so-convenient places.
Warnings: Unbeta'ed. Short... No spoilers that I can think of, as yet. Next update will be this weekend.
Disclaimer: xxxHolic and its characters belongs to CLAMP.
Rice
by Spare
Doumeki annoyed him.
It was noon, and they were eating. It was yet another lunchbreak without Himawari-chan's loveliness to grace it, which meant another lunchbreak with only Doumeki for company -- just another thing to add to Watanuki's list of things wrong for the day.
Doumeki annoyed him.
That, in itself, was nothing new; Doumeki could annoy him just by breathing, after all. The problem stemmed from the fact that Doumeki never did seem to run out of ways to annoy him more than he already was, each and every time. Given that line of thinking, one could say that Watanuki never could seem to run out of new things to note about his stone-faced schoolmate's looks, behavior and overall state of existence that served to irk him just a little bit more than he already was where the subject Doumeki Shizuka was concerned, but saying so would mean that Watanuki also spent a great deal of time observing the archer -- which he was most certainly not -- so we won't. Not out loud, anyway.
And, more often than not, it was Doumeki who was staring first.
But -- going back to the subject of Doumeki and his unfailing ability to discover new and better ways to annoy one Watanuki Kimihiro -- there's an example. Right there. Stuck to the left side of his jaw and not looking to fall off anytime soon.
Oblivious, Doumeki kept right on eating.
"Oi," Watanuki pointed to his own face just as the taller boy looked up. "Doumeki."
The archer chewed twice, swallowed, then raised one dark eyebrow, uncomprehending, in return. "What?"
"On your chin." Still pointing to his face, Watanuki clarified, "There's rice stuck on your chin."
Doumeki regarded him boredly. "Where?"
A glare. "There. To your left."
Doumeki stared blankly on. "Here?" he asked, the boy's right hand -- the one that still held the chopsticks -- moving to indicate a spot about an inch or so below the point where the rice grain still clung stubbornly to Doumeki's skin.
"No." Watanuki frowned, getting more than a little frustrated. "Higher."
The chopsticks shifted. "Here?"
"You missed it -- go a little lower, then right."
"Here?"
"Higher!"
"Here?"
Exasperated, Watanuki sighed, set his half-finished bento box to the ground, and knelt closer to where the taller boy sat. "Here!" he growled, his now unoccupied right arm reaching forward to brush the offending bit of food away with his own fingers. "Here, see?" the bespectacled boy repeated, and waved the rice grain in front of Doumeki's face. That done, Watanuki then proceeded to rant and rave on how stupid Doumeki was, requiring his aid on something oh-so-trivial as a bit of rice sticking to your chin, and how the archer ought to bow down and thank him and bless him for the rest of his days for his god-like benevolence.
Only thing was, Watanuki never got to the part detailing the bowing and the thanking, as Doumeki chose that exact moment to grab his wrist, pulling it forward so that his hand hovered just before the taller boy's mouth. Watanuki felt a puff of air rush past his fingers a split second before something wet and warm engulfed them, and it took another moment or so before he realized that the "something wet and warm" was Doumeki's tongue. By the time Watanuki figured he should freak out, pull his hand away and call Doumeki a freakin' dirty pervert, however, the deed was long done, and the archer had already released his hand, had shrugged, and has now calmly resumed eating the rest of Watanuki's handmade lunch as if licking the food off of your self-proclaimed rival's fingers -- and right in the middle of him yelling at you, too! -- was the most natural thing in the world to do.
Which, Doumeki being Doumeki, it might very well be.
Thwarted from his initial course of action, Watanuki folded his hands in his lap, looked studiously away, and wondered why his cheeks should feel so hot all of a sudden.
x x x
tbc
Pairing: Doumeki x Watanuki FOREVER~!
Rating: PG
Summary: Watanuki, Doumeki, and bits of food sticking to oh-so-convenient places.
Warnings: Unbeta'ed. Short... No spoilers that I can think of, as yet. Next update will be this weekend.
Disclaimer: xxxHolic and its characters belongs to CLAMP.
Rice
by Spare
Doumeki annoyed him.
It was noon, and they were eating. It was yet another lunchbreak without Himawari-chan's loveliness to grace it, which meant another lunchbreak with only Doumeki for company -- just another thing to add to Watanuki's list of things wrong for the day.
Doumeki annoyed him.
That, in itself, was nothing new; Doumeki could annoy him just by breathing, after all. The problem stemmed from the fact that Doumeki never did seem to run out of ways to annoy him more than he already was, each and every time. Given that line of thinking, one could say that Watanuki never could seem to run out of new things to note about his stone-faced schoolmate's looks, behavior and overall state of existence that served to irk him just a little bit more than he already was where the subject Doumeki Shizuka was concerned, but saying so would mean that Watanuki also spent a great deal of time observing the archer -- which he was most certainly not -- so we won't. Not out loud, anyway.
And, more often than not, it was Doumeki who was staring first.
But -- going back to the subject of Doumeki and his unfailing ability to discover new and better ways to annoy one Watanuki Kimihiro -- there's an example. Right there. Stuck to the left side of his jaw and not looking to fall off anytime soon.
Oblivious, Doumeki kept right on eating.
"Oi," Watanuki pointed to his own face just as the taller boy looked up. "Doumeki."
The archer chewed twice, swallowed, then raised one dark eyebrow, uncomprehending, in return. "What?"
"On your chin." Still pointing to his face, Watanuki clarified, "There's rice stuck on your chin."
Doumeki regarded him boredly. "Where?"
A glare. "There. To your left."
Doumeki stared blankly on. "Here?" he asked, the boy's right hand -- the one that still held the chopsticks -- moving to indicate a spot about an inch or so below the point where the rice grain still clung stubbornly to Doumeki's skin.
"No." Watanuki frowned, getting more than a little frustrated. "Higher."
The chopsticks shifted. "Here?"
"You missed it -- go a little lower, then right."
"Here?"
"Higher!"
"Here?"
Exasperated, Watanuki sighed, set his half-finished bento box to the ground, and knelt closer to where the taller boy sat. "Here!" he growled, his now unoccupied right arm reaching forward to brush the offending bit of food away with his own fingers. "Here, see?" the bespectacled boy repeated, and waved the rice grain in front of Doumeki's face. That done, Watanuki then proceeded to rant and rave on how stupid Doumeki was, requiring his aid on something oh-so-trivial as a bit of rice sticking to your chin, and how the archer ought to bow down and thank him and bless him for the rest of his days for his god-like benevolence.
Only thing was, Watanuki never got to the part detailing the bowing and the thanking, as Doumeki chose that exact moment to grab his wrist, pulling it forward so that his hand hovered just before the taller boy's mouth. Watanuki felt a puff of air rush past his fingers a split second before something wet and warm engulfed them, and it took another moment or so before he realized that the "something wet and warm" was Doumeki's tongue. By the time Watanuki figured he should freak out, pull his hand away and call Doumeki a freakin' dirty pervert, however, the deed was long done, and the archer had already released his hand, had shrugged, and has now calmly resumed eating the rest of Watanuki's handmade lunch as if licking the food off of your self-proclaimed rival's fingers -- and right in the middle of him yelling at you, too! -- was the most natural thing in the world to do.
Which, Doumeki being Doumeki, it might very well be.
Thwarted from his initial course of action, Watanuki folded his hands in his lap, looked studiously away, and wondered why his cheeks should feel so hot all of a sudden.
x x x
tbc