Fic VIII-X: Street Musicians
Title: Tree in Three
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Series: Street Musicians! Also known as Buskerverse.
Wordcount: 320~ words each
A/N: You seriously didn't think I would forget this universe, did you? I'm counting these each as one drabble. I am aware this could be construed as cheating. >.>
1.
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Watanuki commented as you and he climbed into the borrowed pickup. “Can you even drive?”
“I’ve driven you before,” you remarked.
He blushed very heavily. “That was NOT what I meant!” he objected rather loudly. “I meant the car!”
“So did I,” you replied calmly, thoroughly amused at his turn of thought. “Though there’ll be time for that as well when we get back.” The further reddening and cross between horror and anticipation in his expression was worth every bit of hearing damage you knew you were about to suffer.
But to your surprise, he took a deep breath and calmed himself. “That’s not the point,” he told you in his default irritable tone. “Don’t distract me. The question was, why are we making the effort to drive all the way to a farm when we can pick up a Christmas tree as the nearest supermarket?”
“The smell,” you explained. “Precut trees don’t smell as good.”
“But last year -”
“Last year your boss didn’t loan us a pickup,” you interrupted. “Stop arguing and get in.” You smiled slightly as he shot you a glare that you knew was simply him being contrary, and climbed in the passenger side. There was little venom to his bite these days, and it was mostly bark anyway. When it came down to one, he didn’t have to live with you, didn’t need to go along with what you wanted, and yet he did. And you suspected that the remaining prickles were simply how he would always be - this you suspected, and also hoped.
2.
“This one,” he said decisively. You eyed it and refrained from pointing out the obvious flaws, settling for the safer option of noting the excessive height. “We can trim it,” he protested.
“We can’t afford a larger tree,” you told him logically. “Find another one.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” he snapped back. Nevertheless, he turned from his original choice and searched on ahead. You eyed his tree speculatively and thought that there probably wasn’t that much wrong with it. Besides the height. And the odd angle of the trunk where it bent a quarter of the way up. Of course, if you simply cut it there…
Watanuki returned in annoyed defeat to find the tree he’d picked halfway chopped down, and after a moment of smug surprise he even deigned to help you by holding it up. You shrugged off his self-lauding; it was not as if he got the upper hand very often and you owed it to him to allow it when possible. Plus, a satisfied Watanuki in this respect could very well lead to other types of satisfaction, and you were not about to object to such other satisfactions at all. Not where he was concerned.
3.
It was, upon reflection, the perfect tree. You glanced beside you to where Watanuki was smiling at it with the sort of pride that came from making something worthwhile, and you felt content with the confirmation that the expenses incurred (his boss never gave anything for free, though payment was often in unexpected ways) were nothing in comparison to what they yielded.
You were of a mind to let him continue his open admiration, and started on stacking the empty ornament boxes, but he caught you before you could do too much damage. “You,” he stated, “have no sense of organisation. You are not touching the contents of that closet, much less putting something in there.” Taking the boxes from your hands, he flounced off, moment lost to the past. But you don’t really mind.
You get him as he returns, pinning him against a conveniently placed wall. “You,” you tell him in a mimicry of his own words, “have no sense of priority.”
“Just because I have mine aligned in a different way -”
You cut him off before he could start on you, because while you liked hearing him rant at you, you liked other things better. And really, you didn’t mind that his priorities weren’t exactly the same as yours; he was here, and despite his frequent complaints, he always kissed back.
--
Next Part
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Series: Street Musicians! Also known as Buskerverse.
Wordcount: 320~ words each
A/N: You seriously didn't think I would forget this universe, did you? I'm counting these each as one drabble. I am aware this could be construed as cheating. >.>
1.
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Watanuki commented as you and he climbed into the borrowed pickup. “Can you even drive?”
“I’ve driven you before,” you remarked.
He blushed very heavily. “That was NOT what I meant!” he objected rather loudly. “I meant the car!”
“So did I,” you replied calmly, thoroughly amused at his turn of thought. “Though there’ll be time for that as well when we get back.” The further reddening and cross between horror and anticipation in his expression was worth every bit of hearing damage you knew you were about to suffer.
But to your surprise, he took a deep breath and calmed himself. “That’s not the point,” he told you in his default irritable tone. “Don’t distract me. The question was, why are we making the effort to drive all the way to a farm when we can pick up a Christmas tree as the nearest supermarket?”
“The smell,” you explained. “Precut trees don’t smell as good.”
“But last year -”
“Last year your boss didn’t loan us a pickup,” you interrupted. “Stop arguing and get in.” You smiled slightly as he shot you a glare that you knew was simply him being contrary, and climbed in the passenger side. There was little venom to his bite these days, and it was mostly bark anyway. When it came down to one, he didn’t have to live with you, didn’t need to go along with what you wanted, and yet he did. And you suspected that the remaining prickles were simply how he would always be - this you suspected, and also hoped.
2.
“This one,” he said decisively. You eyed it and refrained from pointing out the obvious flaws, settling for the safer option of noting the excessive height. “We can trim it,” he protested.
“We can’t afford a larger tree,” you told him logically. “Find another one.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” he snapped back. Nevertheless, he turned from his original choice and searched on ahead. You eyed his tree speculatively and thought that there probably wasn’t that much wrong with it. Besides the height. And the odd angle of the trunk where it bent a quarter of the way up. Of course, if you simply cut it there…
Watanuki returned in annoyed defeat to find the tree he’d picked halfway chopped down, and after a moment of smug surprise he even deigned to help you by holding it up. You shrugged off his self-lauding; it was not as if he got the upper hand very often and you owed it to him to allow it when possible. Plus, a satisfied Watanuki in this respect could very well lead to other types of satisfaction, and you were not about to object to such other satisfactions at all. Not where he was concerned.
3.
It was, upon reflection, the perfect tree. You glanced beside you to where Watanuki was smiling at it with the sort of pride that came from making something worthwhile, and you felt content with the confirmation that the expenses incurred (his boss never gave anything for free, though payment was often in unexpected ways) were nothing in comparison to what they yielded.
You were of a mind to let him continue his open admiration, and started on stacking the empty ornament boxes, but he caught you before you could do too much damage. “You,” he stated, “have no sense of organisation. You are not touching the contents of that closet, much less putting something in there.” Taking the boxes from your hands, he flounced off, moment lost to the past. But you don’t really mind.
You get him as he returns, pinning him against a conveniently placed wall. “You,” you tell him in a mimicry of his own words, “have no sense of priority.”
“Just because I have mine aligned in a different way -”
You cut him off before he could start on you, because while you liked hearing him rant at you, you liked other things better. And really, you didn’t mind that his priorities weren’t exactly the same as yours; he was here, and despite his frequent complaints, he always kissed back.
--
Next Part