Simple Rules :: One-shot, Tatari
Title: Simple Rules
Author: Rhea Logan
Pairing: Watari/Tatsumi, established relationship
Rating: PG-13
Status: One-shot
Wordcount: 1325
Summary: Tatsumi's house is his sanctuary - his rules keep it intact. Not even Watari can change that... can he?
The music:
Capercaillie - Ailein Duinn
Simple Rules
by Rhea Logan
The door creaked as Tatsumi turned the key and pushed it open. The end of the year, he thought tiredly, had to be the only time when the very word 'balance' guaranteed a nightmare.
Work had kept him far too long in the empty office; he had left it past midnight the third consecutive day. Bleary eyes and headache made a feeble weapon; both stood in the way between him and his victory over the huge overdraft, so far still resistant to any means of elimination. Not that Tatsumi would accept defeat; not in the end, anyway, which amounted to the day he had to submit the annual report.
But tonight, he settled for accepting - however reluctantly - one lost battle in favor of winning the war. And win he would, as soon as he was alert enough to keep up with his own strategy.
It was not dark inside, Tatsumi noticed as he crossed the threshold; and it wasn't quiet, either. He could have sworn Watari had said that he would spend the night at his own apartment, this time. He frowned. The clock read one thirty, an hour he could welcome with nothing but a stifled groan. He never understood Watari's love for nighttime work. His own nights seemed too short at the end of the year; the constant lack of time gave the accountant's nightmares an extra edge and a bad case of sleep deprivation, both at one go.
Yet Watari came again, in spite of his own words. Tatsumi could not help but smile to that thought.
He caught himself often thinking along those lines; it felt good to return to a house that wasn't always empty anymore. Watari had a way of turning every place into a home, somehow; there was something warm about him, something soothing. Tatsumi had battled himself long enough before he surrendered his own sanctuary to that bright whirlwind of a man. It had been growing on him, ever since their first night together, a few months back. The idea of finding Watari in his house at night failed to surprise him by now. It pleased him, more often than it didn't.
Expecting to hear the now-familiar clicking noise as he slipped out of his coat and walked into the living room, Tatsumi stopped in doorway, startled at the lack thereof. The soft music seeping from the stereo did not mix with the sound of Watari's fingers flying over the keyboard, this time; stretched on the sofa, Watari looked sound asleep, the computer humming quietly on his lap.
Tatsumi pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. Watari had left the lights on and his laptop plugged into the outlet. As though the battery would not have sufficed. And just on how many occasions had Tatsumi lectured him on wasting money in such pointless ways? Nights served best as sleeping time; electricity played no part in that significant enough to justify the waste. None at all, in fact.
The light went out first; silent steps took Tatsumi across the room to turn off the music, as well. He spared the computer a begrudging look, but he had gone through the stage of getting acquainted with the consequences of touching Watari's “toys” more times than he cared to count. So he turned, intent on not letting it worsen his mood again. If Watari had chosen to ignore his rules - simple as they were - Tatsumi would ignore Watari's morning complaints about cramped muscles and stiff neck.
The bed looked inviting. It felt every bit as good as its looks had promised when Tatsumi undressed and slipped under the covers. If not slightly too big, now that he grew used to sharing it, but he chased that thought away before it made him change his mind. It would do him good to sleep alone, tonight. At least that guaranteed he would not end up trying to win enough of the covers to keep himself warm. Watari had a knack for curling up on the far end of the bed and dragging the bedspread along with him. Then he would wrap most of it around himself, unceremoniously, all without so much as a sleepy sigh.
It was all his, for a change, Tatsumi told himself. The way it used to be. He would enjoy it. The long day of hard work had earned him at least that much. No, he would not think - not for a second more - of how uncomfortable the sofa was for a whole night's sleep, nor of how cold it got at night in the living room.
He turned and let his eyes slide shut. Yes, Watari was stubborn; too stubborn for a compromise on the simplest things. They had agreed on the rules, and he had not imposed them - they were logical, after all. Practical enough for an adult Watari was to understand the need of them without childish defiance. In his own home, the rules existed for them both to follow. Tatsumi would see to that.
He would, he thought, even as he caught himself reaching behind him to touch the cool, vacant space on Watari's side of the bed. He would not relent. Not over something as basic as that. Not again. It would make the rules useless, wouldn't it? Lack of rules brought chaos. He would not have that.
Yet his arms felt too empty to let him fall asleep. His thoughts drifted off across the house, when they should have dissolved into desired dreams. And Watari had not taken off his glasses, he remembered; he always tossed and turned a lot in his sleep, too. And he got cold so quickly, and Tatsumi knew just how much Watari hated that. He sighed.
The rules would stay in place, he decided as the soft chime of the clock announced two in the morning, if he covered that stubborn man with a blanket, without waking him up. So he rose to his feet, shivering in the coolness of the air, and took the folded cover that rested on the chair on his way out of the room. A compromise, he told the image of Watari that took shape in his mind's eye. Something you ought to learn, if you want to stay.
The picture of innocence, he mused at the sight of Watari's sleeping face. Only not. The prime example of how appearances deceived the unobservant had to be more like it, but that had grown on him in time, as well. Watari had wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the cold, and his glasses had already slipped far down his nose. Tatsumi shook his head.
He reached to put the offending computer away before it fell and broke, cursing out his partner's love for technology that surpassed the logic of energy saving by far and large. He would teach him, he decided. Even if Watari had to spend every night when he carelessly fell asleep, just like that. On the sofa, on his own.
Leaning in to pull the blanket over the man, Tatsumi let himself stay there for a moment to steal a closer look. It would have to do, tonight, if it had to - even that small sigh that escaped Watari's soft lips would not melt his heart.
He froze for a split second as a quick hand sneaked around his neck - Tatsumi lost balance, pulled in by a pair of strong, warm arms. He had only caught a glimpse of amber eyes cracking open, and he groaned at that smile, nothing short of impish, as Watari's lips brushed against his cheek.
“Took you long enough,” he muttered under his breath.
Tatsumi shivered, arching lightly under the touch of Watari's hand sliding across his back. “You are absolutely, unbelievably incorrigible.”
“Look who's talking.” Watari ran the tip of his tongue lazily along his mouth. “Thirty two minutes, Seiichirou. Better than last time.”
Author: Rhea Logan
Pairing: Watari/Tatsumi, established relationship
Rating: PG-13
Status: One-shot
Wordcount: 1325
Summary: Tatsumi's house is his sanctuary - his rules keep it intact. Not even Watari can change that... can he?
The music:
Capercaillie - Ailein Duinn
Simple Rules
by Rhea Logan
The door creaked as Tatsumi turned the key and pushed it open. The end of the year, he thought tiredly, had to be the only time when the very word 'balance' guaranteed a nightmare.
Work had kept him far too long in the empty office; he had left it past midnight the third consecutive day. Bleary eyes and headache made a feeble weapon; both stood in the way between him and his victory over the huge overdraft, so far still resistant to any means of elimination. Not that Tatsumi would accept defeat; not in the end, anyway, which amounted to the day he had to submit the annual report.
But tonight, he settled for accepting - however reluctantly - one lost battle in favor of winning the war. And win he would, as soon as he was alert enough to keep up with his own strategy.
It was not dark inside, Tatsumi noticed as he crossed the threshold; and it wasn't quiet, either. He could have sworn Watari had said that he would spend the night at his own apartment, this time. He frowned. The clock read one thirty, an hour he could welcome with nothing but a stifled groan. He never understood Watari's love for nighttime work. His own nights seemed too short at the end of the year; the constant lack of time gave the accountant's nightmares an extra edge and a bad case of sleep deprivation, both at one go.
Yet Watari came again, in spite of his own words. Tatsumi could not help but smile to that thought.
He caught himself often thinking along those lines; it felt good to return to a house that wasn't always empty anymore. Watari had a way of turning every place into a home, somehow; there was something warm about him, something soothing. Tatsumi had battled himself long enough before he surrendered his own sanctuary to that bright whirlwind of a man. It had been growing on him, ever since their first night together, a few months back. The idea of finding Watari in his house at night failed to surprise him by now. It pleased him, more often than it didn't.
Expecting to hear the now-familiar clicking noise as he slipped out of his coat and walked into the living room, Tatsumi stopped in doorway, startled at the lack thereof. The soft music seeping from the stereo did not mix with the sound of Watari's fingers flying over the keyboard, this time; stretched on the sofa, Watari looked sound asleep, the computer humming quietly on his lap.
Tatsumi pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. Watari had left the lights on and his laptop plugged into the outlet. As though the battery would not have sufficed. And just on how many occasions had Tatsumi lectured him on wasting money in such pointless ways? Nights served best as sleeping time; electricity played no part in that significant enough to justify the waste. None at all, in fact.
The light went out first; silent steps took Tatsumi across the room to turn off the music, as well. He spared the computer a begrudging look, but he had gone through the stage of getting acquainted with the consequences of touching Watari's “toys” more times than he cared to count. So he turned, intent on not letting it worsen his mood again. If Watari had chosen to ignore his rules - simple as they were - Tatsumi would ignore Watari's morning complaints about cramped muscles and stiff neck.
The bed looked inviting. It felt every bit as good as its looks had promised when Tatsumi undressed and slipped under the covers. If not slightly too big, now that he grew used to sharing it, but he chased that thought away before it made him change his mind. It would do him good to sleep alone, tonight. At least that guaranteed he would not end up trying to win enough of the covers to keep himself warm. Watari had a knack for curling up on the far end of the bed and dragging the bedspread along with him. Then he would wrap most of it around himself, unceremoniously, all without so much as a sleepy sigh.
It was all his, for a change, Tatsumi told himself. The way it used to be. He would enjoy it. The long day of hard work had earned him at least that much. No, he would not think - not for a second more - of how uncomfortable the sofa was for a whole night's sleep, nor of how cold it got at night in the living room.
He turned and let his eyes slide shut. Yes, Watari was stubborn; too stubborn for a compromise on the simplest things. They had agreed on the rules, and he had not imposed them - they were logical, after all. Practical enough for an adult Watari was to understand the need of them without childish defiance. In his own home, the rules existed for them both to follow. Tatsumi would see to that.
He would, he thought, even as he caught himself reaching behind him to touch the cool, vacant space on Watari's side of the bed. He would not relent. Not over something as basic as that. Not again. It would make the rules useless, wouldn't it? Lack of rules brought chaos. He would not have that.
Yet his arms felt too empty to let him fall asleep. His thoughts drifted off across the house, when they should have dissolved into desired dreams. And Watari had not taken off his glasses, he remembered; he always tossed and turned a lot in his sleep, too. And he got cold so quickly, and Tatsumi knew just how much Watari hated that. He sighed.
The rules would stay in place, he decided as the soft chime of the clock announced two in the morning, if he covered that stubborn man with a blanket, without waking him up. So he rose to his feet, shivering in the coolness of the air, and took the folded cover that rested on the chair on his way out of the room. A compromise, he told the image of Watari that took shape in his mind's eye. Something you ought to learn, if you want to stay.
The picture of innocence, he mused at the sight of Watari's sleeping face. Only not. The prime example of how appearances deceived the unobservant had to be more like it, but that had grown on him in time, as well. Watari had wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the cold, and his glasses had already slipped far down his nose. Tatsumi shook his head.
He reached to put the offending computer away before it fell and broke, cursing out his partner's love for technology that surpassed the logic of energy saving by far and large. He would teach him, he decided. Even if Watari had to spend every night when he carelessly fell asleep, just like that. On the sofa, on his own.
Leaning in to pull the blanket over the man, Tatsumi let himself stay there for a moment to steal a closer look. It would have to do, tonight, if it had to - even that small sigh that escaped Watari's soft lips would not melt his heart.
He froze for a split second as a quick hand sneaked around his neck - Tatsumi lost balance, pulled in by a pair of strong, warm arms. He had only caught a glimpse of amber eyes cracking open, and he groaned at that smile, nothing short of impish, as Watari's lips brushed against his cheek.
“Took you long enough,” he muttered under his breath.
Tatsumi shivered, arching lightly under the touch of Watari's hand sliding across his back. “You are absolutely, unbelievably incorrigible.”
“Look who's talking.” Watari ran the tip of his tongue lazily along his mouth. “Thirty two minutes, Seiichirou. Better than last time.”