In Which Waya and Saeki Come Out of the Closet (But Not Like That) [Waya, Saeki; PG]
Title: In Which Waya and Saeki Come Out of the Closet (But Not Like That)
Authors: chaineddove & umarekawareru
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Rating: PG
Genre: Crack
Pairing: Waya, Saeki, Ashiwara, Shigeko. We're sure you can figure out the implied pairings if you try.
Wordcount: 1,469
Disclaimer: It is probably fortunate for fandom that we do not own Hikago, as we might be liable to make it explode with an excess of crack.
Authors' Notes: chaineddove: See, and here is why the two of us should probably not be allowed to be around each other, possibly ever. Here's one for the story books, indeed. Also, note to self: stop sharing ridiculous mental images with others; they will get the wrong idea - "Man, can you imagine Waya and Saeki hiding out in Morishita's closet?"
umarekawareru: I actually got the right idea. Maaya's made of crack, and by now I have stopped pretending I am any saner. I just enjoy torturing these characters too much.
***
Here’s one for the story books. Or would be, if Waya were the kind of guy lacking the dignity to take this kind of memory with him to the grave, and possibly all the witnesses with it. That way, his friends will never ever hear about it, if he’s lucky - something he’s starting to doubt. It’s terrifying how much harm a dark closet can do to a man’s pride, truly.
“So anyway,” he says eventually to the silhouette of the person next to him, not really sure if he wants himself to continue his sentence. “Why are you here?”
“Because,” the silhouette says, shifting uncomfortably. It’s a fairly spacious closet but two grown men don’t fit well into any kind of closet, spacious or not. It’s one of those silly little factoids nobody in their right minds would ever want to learn. “It’s a long story. Morishita-sensei. Ashiwara-san.”
“Ouch,” Waya says sympathetically.
“I’m sorry I barged in here. I didn’t know it was... occupied.”
“Yeah, well,” Waya says. “You’re lucky I like you, Saeki-san. I did find it first, so really, it’s my closet.”
“Well, if you want to get technical, it’s Morishita-sensei’s closet,” Saeki points out matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, well, that’s the brilliance of the plan,” Waya tells him. “Here’s hoping he doesn’t think to look for us in his closet.” He’s really crossing his fingers for this one, because in the few minutes between the sounds of greetings being exchanged in the hall and his own outburst of sheer genius (which led to the current situation), he has had time to wonder what he’ll do once Morishita-sensei figures out he is, in fact, not in the bathroom - and somehow claiming to have an upset stomach in front of the whole Touya school does not seem like his best option.
“Anyway,” Waya whispers to Saeki, because he’d rather not think about it. They’ll just cross that bridge when they get to it. “Did Sensei tell you anything about this tournament thing? Because I swear, if I knew in advance I would not have come.”
“Trust me,” Saeki says, “I didn’t know. If I had known, I wouldn’t have taken Ashiwara-san up on his offer to go to lunch yesterday.” He stops, considers, and adds, “Probably.”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Waya demands.
“You try saying no to him,” Saeki says defensively. “Besides, as I said, I wasn’t expecting him to walk through the door and cheerfully thank me for treating him in front of everyone.”
“You actually took him out to lunch?” Waya demands, wide-eyed in the darkness. “Man. You have a death wish.”
“I didn’t know,” Saeki says piteously.
“These things have a way of catching up with you,” Waya offers sagely. Of course, he’s hoping that excludes hiding in closets to keep from facing a fired-up Sensei and a smug Touya study group. “You know,” he says, “I bet you it was Shindou. I may kill Shindou.”
“You shouldn’t, Waya.” Saeki shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“It would be absolutely right. And you’re not my mum.” As an afterthought, he adds, “Wait, that was disturbing. Let’s not bring it up ever again.”
Saeki pretends not to hear. Good. Instead, he asks, “No, actually, you know the study session at Isumi’s on Sunday?”
Waya nods, looking at the spot next to him and pretending he can actually see Saeki’s face. “Shindou’s bringing the sushi,” Saeki continues. “If you kill him, we’ll have to pay instead. And my wallet suffered enough yesterday.”
“Point,” Waya concedes. “That is, if someone doesn’t kill us before we can enjoy that sushi.”
There is the sound of footsteps outside the door before Saeki can comment. They both freeze in place and Waya tries really hard not to breathe too loudly. Hiding in a closet is probably bad enough, but being found huddled in said closet with another guy is pretty much an all-time-low on his list of things that could happen. “I wonder where Saeki-kun went,” a voice mutters outside the door. Saeki cringes but the footsteps eventually pass.
“Is he like a bloodhound or something?” Waya hisses, just in case the Ashiwara guy is trying to lure them into a false sense of security. If it’s the Touya school, they shouldn’t let their guards down - that much, Morishita-sensei has managed to drum into his brain. “Seriously, if we are found in here, it is clearly going to be all your fault and you can explain it.”
“Hey, I didn’t force you to climb in here,” Saeki points out in a hushed voice, apparently thinking along the same lines as Waya. “It’s not like I dragged you into this closet against your will.”
“And there’s another disturbing thought that we should never bring up, ever again,” Waya concludes. “Actually, forget about thoughts - let’s erase this whole situation from our memories.”
Only silence comes from Saeki’s side of the closet, which Waya takes as agreement, and then when he’s about to heave one of his best sighs (the one which sounds like the weight of the whole world is heaped on his shoulders), he hears the sound of soft footsteps approaching the closet. “Don’t talk!” he tells Saeki immediately, simply because it’s good to prepare for things in advance, and throws him a disapproving glance that’s (sadly) wasted in the dark of the closet.
“Im not talking!” Saeki protests at once.
“You are now!” Waya replies, and he would really sigh this time if it weren’t for his instinct of self-preservation.
“You started it!”
A voice comes from outside, and Waya’s heart almost leaps out of his chest. “Coming, Mum!” Shigeko’s voice.
It’s not fair, Waya thinks with a grimace. He hasn’t even had time to grab a handy hanger and commit seppuku with it when the door slides open. “Hi,” he says, pathetically.
Shigeko blinks, wide-eyed. “Fancy meeting you here,” Saeki says with a strained sort of cheerfulness that makes it very obvious that he’s embarrassed as hell.
“Oh god,” Waya says. He’s fairly sure he has turned at least the color of an overripe tomato. He thinks he might be heading towards purple, actually. “Shut up, Saeki-san. I swear. This isn’t what it looks like.”
Shigeko covers her mouth with her hand, but it is too late to stop the peal of gleeful laughter.
“I swear,” Waya says again pathetically, feeling all his hopes of her ever, ever taking him seriously as a man evaporate. “We just…”
“…Fell in,” Saeki finishes pitifully. “In a manner of speaking. That, um, sounded a lot better in my head.” This elicits another peal of laughter. Shigeko has to lean against the doorframe to keep her balance.
“Oh god,” Waya says again. “Please shut up. Can you please close the door and pretend you never saw this. I’ll buy you a whole truck full of ice cream.” If she ever wants to eat ice cream in his pathetically emasculated company again, anyway.
“You… you want me to… leave you in the closet with Saeki-kun?” Shigeko finally manages, gasping for breath.
“Yes!” Waya says, which is when his brain catches up. “I mean no!”
“Can I have the mop at least?” Shigeko wants to know.
Waya wants to die. “You can have the mop or whatever,” he says, passing it to her, “but please don’t take my dignity.”
“Seconded,” Saeki agrees, bringing up a hand to cover his face.
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t tell Dad,” Shigeko giggles, shooting them a conspiratorial wink. Waya tries hard not to groan - she’s obviously enjoying this.
“We love you,” Saeki tells her, sounding relieved for some reason which is totally escaping Waya. “Say we went to the toilet.”
“Not as much as Ashiwara-san loves you, Saeki-san. He’s asked about you five times already. You and your unnaturally upset stomach,” Shigeko giggles, taking the mop and sliding the door shut again. “I’ll come rescue you when my father goes to bed tonight. Enjoy yourselves!”
Saeki shakes his head and then makes a gesture to bury it in his hands but instead manages to bang it against the closet door in the process. He does this with a completely fluid and casual-looking motion - Waya is sort of impressed, actually.
“He really does, you know,” Waya says, and then really does sigh. It sounds like an all-time record of drama in just one sigh, unsurprisingly. “Sucks to be you,” he adds, staring at the closet door and hating life a little bit.
There’s a moment of silence, and then when Waya thinks they really can’t drop any lower than this, tragedy occurs. “Not to burst your bubble, Houston,” Saeki begins, holding up what looks a horrifying lot like a Shuusaku kifu book - the same one Morishita-sensei was discussing shortly before they escaped - “but I think we have a problem.”
Authors: chaineddove & umarekawareru
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Rating: PG
Genre: Crack
Pairing: Waya, Saeki, Ashiwara, Shigeko. We're sure you can figure out the implied pairings if you try.
Wordcount: 1,469
Disclaimer: It is probably fortunate for fandom that we do not own Hikago, as we might be liable to make it explode with an excess of crack.
Authors' Notes: chaineddove: See, and here is why the two of us should probably not be allowed to be around each other, possibly ever. Here's one for the story books, indeed. Also, note to self: stop sharing ridiculous mental images with others; they will get the wrong idea - "Man, can you imagine Waya and Saeki hiding out in Morishita's closet?"
umarekawareru: I actually got the right idea. Maaya's made of crack, and by now I have stopped pretending I am any saner. I just enjoy torturing these characters too much.
***
Here’s one for the story books. Or would be, if Waya were the kind of guy lacking the dignity to take this kind of memory with him to the grave, and possibly all the witnesses with it. That way, his friends will never ever hear about it, if he’s lucky - something he’s starting to doubt. It’s terrifying how much harm a dark closet can do to a man’s pride, truly.
“So anyway,” he says eventually to the silhouette of the person next to him, not really sure if he wants himself to continue his sentence. “Why are you here?”
“Because,” the silhouette says, shifting uncomfortably. It’s a fairly spacious closet but two grown men don’t fit well into any kind of closet, spacious or not. It’s one of those silly little factoids nobody in their right minds would ever want to learn. “It’s a long story. Morishita-sensei. Ashiwara-san.”
“Ouch,” Waya says sympathetically.
“I’m sorry I barged in here. I didn’t know it was... occupied.”
“Yeah, well,” Waya says. “You’re lucky I like you, Saeki-san. I did find it first, so really, it’s my closet.”
“Well, if you want to get technical, it’s Morishita-sensei’s closet,” Saeki points out matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, well, that’s the brilliance of the plan,” Waya tells him. “Here’s hoping he doesn’t think to look for us in his closet.” He’s really crossing his fingers for this one, because in the few minutes between the sounds of greetings being exchanged in the hall and his own outburst of sheer genius (which led to the current situation), he has had time to wonder what he’ll do once Morishita-sensei figures out he is, in fact, not in the bathroom - and somehow claiming to have an upset stomach in front of the whole Touya school does not seem like his best option.
“Anyway,” Waya whispers to Saeki, because he’d rather not think about it. They’ll just cross that bridge when they get to it. “Did Sensei tell you anything about this tournament thing? Because I swear, if I knew in advance I would not have come.”
“Trust me,” Saeki says, “I didn’t know. If I had known, I wouldn’t have taken Ashiwara-san up on his offer to go to lunch yesterday.” He stops, considers, and adds, “Probably.”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Waya demands.
“You try saying no to him,” Saeki says defensively. “Besides, as I said, I wasn’t expecting him to walk through the door and cheerfully thank me for treating him in front of everyone.”
“You actually took him out to lunch?” Waya demands, wide-eyed in the darkness. “Man. You have a death wish.”
“I didn’t know,” Saeki says piteously.
“These things have a way of catching up with you,” Waya offers sagely. Of course, he’s hoping that excludes hiding in closets to keep from facing a fired-up Sensei and a smug Touya study group. “You know,” he says, “I bet you it was Shindou. I may kill Shindou.”
“You shouldn’t, Waya.” Saeki shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“It would be absolutely right. And you’re not my mum.” As an afterthought, he adds, “Wait, that was disturbing. Let’s not bring it up ever again.”
Saeki pretends not to hear. Good. Instead, he asks, “No, actually, you know the study session at Isumi’s on Sunday?”
Waya nods, looking at the spot next to him and pretending he can actually see Saeki’s face. “Shindou’s bringing the sushi,” Saeki continues. “If you kill him, we’ll have to pay instead. And my wallet suffered enough yesterday.”
“Point,” Waya concedes. “That is, if someone doesn’t kill us before we can enjoy that sushi.”
There is the sound of footsteps outside the door before Saeki can comment. They both freeze in place and Waya tries really hard not to breathe too loudly. Hiding in a closet is probably bad enough, but being found huddled in said closet with another guy is pretty much an all-time-low on his list of things that could happen. “I wonder where Saeki-kun went,” a voice mutters outside the door. Saeki cringes but the footsteps eventually pass.
“Is he like a bloodhound or something?” Waya hisses, just in case the Ashiwara guy is trying to lure them into a false sense of security. If it’s the Touya school, they shouldn’t let their guards down - that much, Morishita-sensei has managed to drum into his brain. “Seriously, if we are found in here, it is clearly going to be all your fault and you can explain it.”
“Hey, I didn’t force you to climb in here,” Saeki points out in a hushed voice, apparently thinking along the same lines as Waya. “It’s not like I dragged you into this closet against your will.”
“And there’s another disturbing thought that we should never bring up, ever again,” Waya concludes. “Actually, forget about thoughts - let’s erase this whole situation from our memories.”
Only silence comes from Saeki’s side of the closet, which Waya takes as agreement, and then when he’s about to heave one of his best sighs (the one which sounds like the weight of the whole world is heaped on his shoulders), he hears the sound of soft footsteps approaching the closet. “Don’t talk!” he tells Saeki immediately, simply because it’s good to prepare for things in advance, and throws him a disapproving glance that’s (sadly) wasted in the dark of the closet.
“Im not talking!” Saeki protests at once.
“You are now!” Waya replies, and he would really sigh this time if it weren’t for his instinct of self-preservation.
“You started it!”
A voice comes from outside, and Waya’s heart almost leaps out of his chest. “Coming, Mum!” Shigeko’s voice.
It’s not fair, Waya thinks with a grimace. He hasn’t even had time to grab a handy hanger and commit seppuku with it when the door slides open. “Hi,” he says, pathetically.
Shigeko blinks, wide-eyed. “Fancy meeting you here,” Saeki says with a strained sort of cheerfulness that makes it very obvious that he’s embarrassed as hell.
“Oh god,” Waya says. He’s fairly sure he has turned at least the color of an overripe tomato. He thinks he might be heading towards purple, actually. “Shut up, Saeki-san. I swear. This isn’t what it looks like.”
Shigeko covers her mouth with her hand, but it is too late to stop the peal of gleeful laughter.
“I swear,” Waya says again pathetically, feeling all his hopes of her ever, ever taking him seriously as a man evaporate. “We just…”
“…Fell in,” Saeki finishes pitifully. “In a manner of speaking. That, um, sounded a lot better in my head.” This elicits another peal of laughter. Shigeko has to lean against the doorframe to keep her balance.
“Oh god,” Waya says again. “Please shut up. Can you please close the door and pretend you never saw this. I’ll buy you a whole truck full of ice cream.” If she ever wants to eat ice cream in his pathetically emasculated company again, anyway.
“You… you want me to… leave you in the closet with Saeki-kun?” Shigeko finally manages, gasping for breath.
“Yes!” Waya says, which is when his brain catches up. “I mean no!”
“Can I have the mop at least?” Shigeko wants to know.
Waya wants to die. “You can have the mop or whatever,” he says, passing it to her, “but please don’t take my dignity.”
“Seconded,” Saeki agrees, bringing up a hand to cover his face.
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t tell Dad,” Shigeko giggles, shooting them a conspiratorial wink. Waya tries hard not to groan - she’s obviously enjoying this.
“We love you,” Saeki tells her, sounding relieved for some reason which is totally escaping Waya. “Say we went to the toilet.”
“Not as much as Ashiwara-san loves you, Saeki-san. He’s asked about you five times already. You and your unnaturally upset stomach,” Shigeko giggles, taking the mop and sliding the door shut again. “I’ll come rescue you when my father goes to bed tonight. Enjoy yourselves!”
Saeki shakes his head and then makes a gesture to bury it in his hands but instead manages to bang it against the closet door in the process. He does this with a completely fluid and casual-looking motion - Waya is sort of impressed, actually.
“He really does, you know,” Waya says, and then really does sigh. It sounds like an all-time record of drama in just one sigh, unsurprisingly. “Sucks to be you,” he adds, staring at the closet door and hating life a little bit.
There’s a moment of silence, and then when Waya thinks they really can’t drop any lower than this, tragedy occurs. “Not to burst your bubble, Houston,” Saeki begins, holding up what looks a horrifying lot like a Shuusaku kifu book - the same one Morishita-sensei was discussing shortly before they escaped - “but I think we have a problem.”