[You Got It] Chapter 3: "Anything At All"
Thank you, everyone, for your well-wishes. I'll be replying in short order, and posting an actual update on my condition once this chapter is on the internet where it belongs. I'm not quite as fixed as I'd hoped to be by now, but I can now announce massive improvement! And with no further ado, Chapter 3...
Being the fourth part of Fifteen Mokona on a Dead Man's Chest, this is a sequel to:
I: Rum & Popcorn, II: Talk Like a Pirate Day, and III: Slings and Arrows
This series is a broad "Pirates vs. Ninjas" alternate universe comprised of short, multi-chapter stories that can be read on their own, but as time goes on, will probably make more sense if you start at the beginning. While I'm still doing housekeeping my new Dreamwidth journal, intermediate chapters may continue to point to LiveJournal.
TITLE: You Got It (gift for beltenebra)
CHAPTER: 3 of 4 - "Anything At All"
SERIES: Legal Drug, Clover, xxxHoLic. Cameos from Angelic Layer, Magic Knight Rayearth, CLAMP School Detectives, Nijuu Mensou ni Onegai (Man of Many Faces).
PAIRING: Himura Rikuou x Kudou Kazahaya, main, with a healthy dose of Doumeki Shizuka x Watanuki Kimihiro. Background (this chapter): Ookawa Utako x Ijyuin Akira, Takamura Suoh x Imonoyama Nokoru. Other chapters may vary.
DISCLAIMER: Everything in the CLAMP Megaverse was originally created by CLAMP. They are entirely to blame for creating a system of crossovers that do not easily disclaim. Characters have been adapted without authorization or approval, and I am making no profit from their use.
WARNINGS: 1) Pirates. 2) Ninjas. 3) Utako and Akira. Seriously. Have you read Nijuu Mensou? I'm not making this up.
SUMMARY: Gizmos and phantoms and thigh-highs, oh my!
RATING: PG-13 (for now). Strong language and adult situations.
Previously:
1: Anything You Want
2: Anything You Need
[Anything At All]
If there were any way to return an evening and get his money back, Kazahaya wanted it. Packed off to a haunted bar to find a legendary mystical artifact (okay, that was cool, but only that), where he'd managed to get 'stimulated' beyond all his embarrassing nightmares by a scanner-slash-sextoy (which, to be fair, had gotten them a room, but was uncalled for), and now he was trying to figure out stockings --
-- emphasis on the 'trying' --
-- because he had to wear a fucking dress. At least he'd gotten Rikuou to start off without him. The last thing Kazahaya wanted was more snark about how he should wear fluffy nonsense around the store because the pervert wanted panty shots. And he definitely didn't want any opinions about how only a useless moron couldn't put the damn thing on without help. It was staring back at him from on top of the blankets, the bright whites practically glowing under the light of the full moon coming in the window. Yard upon yard of ruffly ridiculousness, and it wasn't even a skirt that came all the way around! The teeny short-shorts in front meant he had to wear special underwear on top of everything, and you could see all the way up his legs!
And the lacy undergarment with weird buckles hanging all over the place was harder. It went somewhere around his hips -- he knew that much. Kakei'd said they held up the aforementioned stockings, which wouldn't stay on their own, but he'd be damned if he knew how it was supposed to work. Tights were so much better. Tights that went all the way up and...
... and he was not going to have opinions on the best way to dress in drag. He was sick of dressing in drag! The number of creepy delinquents who'd had asked him, 'Hey sister, what's cookin'?' since he'd gotten this job would probably reach the moon if they all stood on each others' shoulders, and that was just the creepy ones! Tugging off the black silk tube that was his most immediate hell, Kazahaya fell onto the sheets and pounded his fists at his side. Could this night get any worse?!
As he rubbed his face and tried not to whimper too loud, the tumblers clicked in the door. It hadn't been that long since Rikuou left. He couldn't possibly have made a real search of all the rooms on this hallway, let alone the whole second floor, not to mention that the goddamn sensor had gone off on the first floor and then stopped, so the orb might not even be in the building anymore. Through his tear-blurred eyes, Kazahaya saw a dark-haired head poke in.
"Is that what you call working, you lazy, good-for-nothing lug?!" he snapped. "I'll bet you--"
The door swung the rest of the way open, and Kazahaya was pretty sure his throat had closed up tight enough that only dogs would hear anything he tried to say.
That wasn't Rikuou.
That was Captain Doumeki. In... his dress. And his stockings. And his wings. And wow did all that look weird next to the hook on his right hand. Though he made it work somehow -- probably because he didn't look at all like a girl, which was the part Kazahaya took most exception to. He hated it when people mistook him for an actual girl.
And to top it off, he himself was naked, except for tiny briefs and one black stocking hanging loose, and ...
Even getting to touch an actual orb owned by an actual one of the Dioscuri wasn't worth this much humiliation. He swept up the dress from the sheets, holding it over his indecency as much as possible. Should he duck behind the bed? Probably a good idea. He'd just insulted one of the most dangerous pirates he personally had ever met, while naked in a room over a bar. The extra defense might buy him a whole half a second of life.
Not dignity, but dignity was a wash at this point.
"Relax, kid," Doumeki said, shutting the door behind him. "Nothin' I haven't seen."
He kept the dress pressed to his chest as he squeaked, "I... I... ah..." With a gulp, Kazahaya forced a breath into his lungs. "Hi. Fancy meeting you here."
"You look like you're having some trouble."
How was he supposed to answer that? Tell a pirate that ninjas had demanded he wear the same dress Doumeki was already wearing? You couldn't tell a pirate his clothes were silly! That was suicide! Nor could he mention the magic orb that might be lost forever because their signaly whooziwhatsit had pulled a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. He'd probably get laughed out of his current incarnation.
Playing with the stocking he'd dropped on the bed, Kazahaya threw on his best customer service grin and forced a tinny laugh out of his throat. "Trouble? I don't know what you mean."
Doumeki winced and unstrapped the hook on his hand (apparently it was fake -- who knew?), fastening the whole attachment somewhere out of sight under his skirt. "I mean you don't know how to wear a garter belt. What was your name again, kid?"
"... Kazahaya."
"Underwear goes on after stockings, Kazahaya, unless you like unbuckling to go to the bathroom. Take those off."
Gosh. To strip or not to strip. That was the--
Nevermind. No questions asked. Before his brain had managed to translate semi-comprehension to any level of motion, the pirate had pulled him up by the arm and turned him like a mannequin to face the bed. The offending black satiny panties were down around his ankles so fast, he could already hear Rikuou making jokes about dropping his knickers for pirates. He didn't know which was worse -- the way his face felt as hot as a Christmas turkey, or the slight breeze around his nether regions while -- oh my fucking god -- a pirate captain was fastening the mysterious lacy strap around his hips. And even in that tiny little dress, he had to assume Kakei was right about the number of concealed weapons. Knowing "Deadeye Doumeki", there was at least a wrist-mount repeating crossbow next to the hook-hand under that cloud of white silk.
If this was a dream, Kazahaya wanted to wake up five minutes ago.
"I'm surprised your boyfriend ran off before getting you dressed," Doumeki said, as if stripping and redressing near strangers in rented rooms was perfectly normal.
Of course, maybe it was perfectly normal for a pirate. How was he to know? Usually he only dealt with them in a professional capacity. And clearly the captain was versed in the how-to of making him stand on one leg so he could slip the other stocking back--
Wait.
Had he just said... boyfriend?
"You don't think I..." Kazahaya whipped around, falling to a seat on the bed with only one buckle clipped and a pirate staring at him without a flinch. Best not to assume he was joking. "I'm not dating Rikuou! I'd never have anything to do with that enormous walking boulder! He's rude, and he's a pervert, and I don't know why anyone would--"
Doumeki caught a chuckle in his fist, the same curve on his lips that Kazahaya could have sworn was a grin earlier today.
"What's so funny?"
"Sorry. Deja vu." Pulling him back to his feet, the pirate snagged one of his front clasps. "No wonder he left without doing your stockings. Must feel like Tantalus in hell."
Kazahaya went numb to everything but the gentle tug of silk to metal clips, which shouldn't have been able to unbalance him enough to need the support of the bedpost, but that sort of thing happened when his head went awash like this. Too many of his own memories were flooding back in, of a thousand times Rikuou had closed in on him only to pull away with a sneer and a joke. "There must be some mistake. Rikuou doesn't..."
Well, more importantly, he didn't want Rikuou! So why was he even flashing back to all the times he'd blacked out and woken up back in his bed -- the sense lingering that someone had carried him the whole way?
Just thinking of it woke up that strange hunger that lived in his skin, shooting from every nerve up his spine to cloud his brain. Usually, he didn't have to wait long for it to go away, since he could count on Rikuou to pull some jackass stunt that overrode everything with the need to punch his smarmy mug. But Rikuou wasn't here to be a jackass at the moment. If this quivering didn't go away soon, he'd have to think of a name. He couldn't go on calling it, 'How he felt every now and again when Rikuou wasn't living to torment him'.
'Rikulated', maybe, since it was...
No. He couldn't just assume it was Rikuou who made him feel this way. And it was a ridiculous way to feel at all, so 'ridiculated' was clearly a better choice. Much better. Just kind of a mouthful.
At least Doumeki was looking down where he couldn't see Kazahaya blushing. He could see his own face in the mirror, with the long sunset of his dignity staining his cheeks while the pirate toiled on those stupid buckles, with those wings and that dress and everything making him look like some absurd fairy godfather.
"If you say so," Doumeki answered him. "But then I don't know why he looks jealous whenever somebody hits on you."
"He does?"
The pirate captain raised his chin enough for Kazahaya to remember his fear of brigands in his cutting eyes, then grabbed the back of Kazahaya's knees and pivoted him back toward the bed. Doumeki pulled on the last clip on the stocking-holder-upper thing and said, "Ask him that, not me. I thought you looked jealous, too, so what do I know?"
A gulp stuck halfway down Kazahaya's throat. Had he? "But why would I--"
Before he could finish, the light from the hallway broke into the room, leaving Kazahaya to wonder for all of a hundredth of a second how he hadn't heard the door open. Then he saw Watanuki, staring so hard that a heat mirage seemed to bend the air around him. Yuuko's errand ninja was likely to snap over something as minor as the store missing a pattern from the new fall line of bentou boxes, and at the moment he looked ready to take the building with him in a blue-brocade hurricane. Because, for some reason, he was dressed in the armored outfit that matched the one Rikuou had gotten.
"Why. You. Dou... me... ki..."
Kazahaya looked over his shoulder at the pirate, down at his own functional nudity, and at the dress in a rumpled heap on the bed -- which he took up again for what little cover it offered him in front. "This isn't what it looks like!"
"Sure it is," Doumeki cut in, standing and walking for the door. "The kid needed help with his garter belt. He's good to go now. And whatever you're looking for ain't here."
"I should think not! And too bad for your story that I saw him running through the hallways in that dress not five minutes ago! He didn't seem to be having any trouble--"
"Hey!" Kazahaya yelled out. If there was one thing he liked less than getting called a girl, it was getting called a girl who stole other people's pirates! As if he would! Pirates were sharp!
So were ninjas, he remembered as Watanuki zipped over to him and screamed, "My name is not 'Hey'! And I expect you to keep away from that particular marauder!"
Oh God. He'd just yelled at a ninja.
And you know what?
He didn't care.
"I don't know who you saw running down that hall," he snapped right back in Watanuki's face. "But it damn well wasn't me! I've been stuck in here ever since your stupid vibrator went off in my pocket! Putting on your fucking clothes, to do your fucking--"
"It was vibrating?!"
"It was vibrating! And a little warning would have been nice, so I didn't put it somewhere quite so delicate!"
He wanted to stay mad, but the blue cast to the ninja's skin and the strange gasps he was making had Kazahaya trying to remember everything Kakei had taught him about the difference between choking and anaphylaxis. "It shouldn't have been vibrating!" Watanuki wheezed, sinking to his knees and cupping his ears in his hands. "Someone must have activated the orb. The Kragero team couldn't have gotten it that fast. It must..." After two seconds of pulling out his hair in relative silence, he whispered, "Shit," and hauled off for the door with Doumeki by the elbow.
Whatever he'd realized, he wasn't inclined to share, and Kazahaya didn't plan to run out naked. Not for that. Not if Yuuko had picked him and Rikuou for this job in the first place. She must have had a reason to think they could do it, and he'd taken the job, which meant he owed Kakei the orb -- or the breach of contract fee that was probably worth more than his life. All he had to do was follow his orders. Use the widget, find the orb, put it in the box. Period.
And for that, he would need clothes.
Kazahaya pulled up his embarrassing panties, which did go on as easily as the pirate captain had promised, and pushed his feet into the black, gold-trimmed boots that went with the outfit. Then and only then could he will himself to pick up the dress for real and face the prospect of wearing it.
On second thought, maybe he shouldn't have put the boots on first. Just to fit the leather through the shorts legs, he had to point his toes far enough that his feet screamed. At least they weren't pants. He'd have had to take the boots off and start over if they'd been pants. Then again, if they'd been pants, the stockings would have been unnecessary.
The gloves were anchored right into the sleeves -- he presumed so they didn't fall down or get lost -- but they slipped on easily enough. Thanks to Saiga's fittings, the whole bodice fit him like a second skin when it was closed. Fine for the clasps down by his ass where he could reach without pulling his arms too much. As he reached the ones by his rib cage, the damn thing wouldn't even shut! His muscles were straining the fabric, the stupid wings were pulling it out, too, and the clips were impossible to work with his fingers dressed in cloth...
And damn it, where was Rikuou?! Out looking for orbs without him because he'd said he'd be fine? Because he hadn't counted on girls' clothes being so much work? Well, he'd just have to be fine, then, or the jerk would never let him live it down.
A regular yank wasn't enough to pull out Saiga's stitchery, but he had a pocketknife. He could cut the fingers off the gloves, at least. Then he pressed every breath of air he could manage out of his lungs to give the fabric a little more slack and managed to force two halves of a clasp together, although the shoulder pulled oddly as he did it.. Of course, it wasn't as odd as the chill wind tickling up his back.
He hadn't opened the window. There was no reason--
Except maybe a blue-clad, armored figure reflected in the mirror, standing in the shadow by the bed. He must have gotten in somehow. "Rikuou!" Kazahaya yelped. "When did you--"
After he turned around, he saw the figure was nowhere near tall enough or hulking enough to be his coworker. And of course, the other clerk shouldn't have been able to sneak in when even Watanuki hadn't managed it.
It wasn't the ninja, back for blood, was it?
Kazahaya stared at the corner, certain he couldn't have made his lips move, even if he'd had the breath to ask, 'Who are you?' The figure took a step forward, but he didn't move with a normal gait. His whole shape blinked in and out like a twinkling star, gliding with an unnatural phase across the floor and into the light.
And he was translucent. The corner of the bedframe shone right through his hips, the lines of the wall moulding through his... face...
It... was like looking at a reflection in the water. Hazy and strange but... his own eyes, his own chin... the ghost even had his hair styled with the same lock running down one cheek, albeit the actual hair was obsidian dark and the bit of his bangs trailed the opposite cheek...
Which just meant they'd look exactly the same from the front. Even their eyes were on a level.
Dress unbuttoned or not, Kazahaya wasn't staying to ask why.
~//~
With the Chairman's business taking them all around Hundhammeren, he'd thought they'd never get to stop at the famous Clover bar! Not only was the proprietress just as pretty and talented as Kazuhiko-san always said, Akira simply needed to reverse engineer their recipe for pan-seared oysters. The sauce tasted like a reduction of champagne and tarragon, certainly, but experiment would show if shallots or leeks worked best. If his... (he could barely think it!) ... if his fiancee liked them, he had to know how to reproduce the flavor.
Squeezing his hand under the table, Utako asked, "Do you think we'll get to see the real ghosts?"
"Oh. Gosh. Well, I hope so. They must be nice ghosts to live in a place like this." The two gentlemen who'd snuck past the corner at the top of the stairs had clearly been living humans, not the ghosts in question. In fact, one of them had looked like Watanuki -- Akira was certain of it. Maybe the local ninja would stop by downstairs before the Chairman had finished saving the day, and he could ask about that beef au jus recipe Watanuki had used to win their last cook-off! It'd make a perfect entree for his engagement dinner, especially with ginger-blueberry tarts for dessert.
Almost a week had passed since Utako had asked him (after explaining that she'd waited ten years, she wasn't waiting any longer, and she thought fifteen was quite old enough for her to marry, thank you), but he still blushed every time he saw a peek of the ring hiding on the chain around her neck. Even with all his ninja training, Akira wasn't sure he could keep this secret until the official announcement. Now if only he could settle on a cake recipe for the actual wedding...
Across the table, Takamura-sempai sighed, "Ghosts aside... Sir. Perhaps this particular matter could be settled tomorrow. We can stop back after--"
With a shake of his head, the Chairman flicked open his fan. "Suoh. The sun should neither rise nor set on a lady's heartache."
No one reminded him that Oruha-san had claimed not to have any, since the Chairman had never once been wrong about a woman, although Akira was certain Takamura-sempai wanted to mention it. Something in the way he kept shaking his head at the lamp and silently asking, 'Why?'
"No, we'll see this out. First, we'll need lyrics to all her songs. Akira, can you get us a copy?"
He glanced up the stairs again to check the angles and the shadows for how he might sneak up into the corridor, and Akira saw Watanuki again. He'd popped into view outside one of the upstairs doors and opened it to walk in, plain as day. Having someone else sneaking around might complicate matters, of course, but if Watanuki wasn't hiding...
Not an insurmountable problem. "Well, sure, if she has a book inside the store," Akira answered. He could steal anything without people noticing -- and put it back, too, as he'd proved to himself that time he'd needed to borrow the budget notebooks from the office but the Chairman had somehow convinced Takamura-sempai to ravish him on the desk when he was so much more of a bedroom-only sort. They wouldn't have wanted to be disturbed, so Akira had done his best to get the books without disturbing them. Which he had. And without mentioning to Takamura-sempai that the peony birthmark on his tush really wasn't anything to be ashamed of, either.
After a bit of humming and tapping his fan on his chin, the Chairmain turned to Takamura-sempai. "Suoh. Could you ask--"
"Good evening, everyone," a girl's voice called out. It was the dark-haired barmaid with the sunny smile, the one Oruha-san had called Himawari. "Can I start you off with anything to drink?"
"Ladies first," the chairman laughed, beaming over his fan at Utako. "I insist, fair cousin."
"Well, I suppose I'll have some green tea." Akira's fiancee curled up to his elbow. "We both will. Won't we, sweetie?"
"That sounds lovely."
"And for you?" Himawari-san asked the Chairman.
"Could I trouble you for a hot chocolate? Maybe with a shot of Chambord and some whipped cream?"
"Of course."
Takamura-sempai sat up straighter in his chair, which he always managed even when Akira thought his posture was as perfect as it could be. "Sidecar, please. Double."
"No problem!"
"Thank you."
No one jumped at the light click of a door upstairs, nor at Watanuki running full tilt out of view (hauling a large man in a dress by the arm). One learned not to jump at things you could only hear because of ninja powers while one was in public.
"I'll bring those right up," the barmaid said. Flashing them another smile, she headed back to her post.
Akira stood as soon as she was out of earshot, dropping Utako's arm with a sigh. He had lyrics to find. Somehow. "I'll be right back, darling. You won't even notice I'm gone."
"Oh, I'll notice, honey bee. And if you're not back before our tea's ready, I'll come after you."
"Excuse me," Takamura-sempai said, stepping away from the table and blinking out of sight behind a pillar. It was just like him not to need actual instructions from the Chairman!
With a pout, Utako adjusted the gloves on her costume so all the seams were straight. "I guess if you have to go, you have to. But I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you more."
"Then do your job and hurry back! No dawdling."
"Never," he answered, and leaned over to kiss her cheek.
Akira took advantage of the same pillar Takamura-sempai had used to fade into a shadow, out of normal view, which luckily trailed up onto the stairs. From there, he could edge up the steps, one toe-touch at a time. Kazuhiko-san had said Oruha-san lived in one of the rooms above the bar, and it probably wouldn't be hard to say which one.
There were numbers on all the doors, for starters. The owner's would probably be alone in having no number at all. Who'd number the door where they actually lived?
He stepped past 203 just in time. The swinging door missed him by a hair as a young man sprinted down the hallway in a blur of white and black. Whoever he was, he seemed in an awful rush for someone who was staying upstairs. There didn't seem to be a fire or anything. But the gentleman whipped around the corner near the end of the corridor so fast his feet nearly skidded out from under him.
And so fast that he didn't notice the young girl hovering just past the turn, whose outfit matched Utako's costume to a stitch. She was resting four feet off the floor as if sitting on an invisible perch, tilting her head to watch the guest who was in such a hurry. Her image flickered and faded as her wings buzzed to life, letting her drift down til her feet rested an inch or two off the ground. Akira decided to leave her to stare down the turn at the runner in peace. He could start his search down the near hall instead. After all, you could never be too careful with ghosts.
A pity Utako hadn't been there to see her.
~//~
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
Watanuki shut the door to whatever room he'd ended up in and counted to ten in his head. He had to handle this rationally. The least he could do was count to ten! Well, to two anyway. What the hell came after two?!
"You okay?"
"No, I am damn well not okay!!" Marching straight over to the bed, he picked up a pillow and thwacked it down on Doumeki's infernally calm reasonableness. That bastard was not allowed to keep his cool when it was flipping-out time! "You...! You were supposed to be useful! Insalubrious varmint! Do you have any idea how much shit I'm going to have to clean up when this is over?!"
"No, you were kind of vague on that."
"That's because I don't know!!"
His next two smacks with the pillow hit Doumeki's guard, and the third ended with Watanuki rolled back on the bed with the feather-stuffed sack flattened between them. He was getting too used to this. Twining his legs around Doumeki's thighs shouldn't have been where he naturally ended up when he panicked, and he was definitely not going to nuzzle into his neck. Not now.
"Are you done?" Doumeki asked.
"Done with what?! Done with these stupid costumes? Done with trusting pirates?! I never did, you know! Not once! Now the entire mission is kaput, left to the whims of those untrained, uninformed... Agh!" There was no way he could let Doumeki near the orb now, not if someone who wasn't a ninja could activate it, which was the only thing that could have happened. Although it was decidedly annoying, he had to admit that the pirate captain was both skillful and powerful, and that might be all it took. Might. If some mischance had led to Doumeki actually touching it...
Mayhem! Indubitable havoc, courtesy of Clow Blast-fuckery Reed, Supreme Wingdoodle of Chaos and Paragon of All Ass-hats Everywhere! Ass hat?! He was an Ass Tiara! He might call himself a god, but as far as Watanuki cared, he was nothing but an infernal danger to life, limb, and various other parts of one particular, unsuspecting swashbuckler. Possibly other people as well.
Not that he cared.
Not about Doumeki.
Caring had not been on any terms he'd agreed to when entering into this... arrangement of mutually stimulating interactions between two people that was in no way a relationship.
As if trying to make matters worse, Doumeki pushed his chin up until Watanuki had no choice but to stare into those stupid, deep, dark, depend-on-me, I'm-a-man-of-action, soulful eyes. Man of action indeed. Watanuki could feel the growl rumbling in his throat before he could hear it. "I can't even say it's all your fault, because you didn't do anything but fondle that pretty-boy clerk!" Grabbing the other pillow from behind his head, he smacked it against Doumeki's back to punctuate his primary point. "So I'm. Definitely. Not. Done. Hitting. You. With. Pillows!"
The pirate grabbed his plush weapon and threw it off the other side of the bed. "Fine. Next time, you can clip the stockings. Now are you going to talk to me or not?"
He wasn't dropping the matter simply because he trusted a pirate about having honorable intentions. It was because he wasn't going to be pissed off even if something had happened in the other room, because Doumeki wasn't his boyfriend, he didn't want Doumeki to be his boyfriend, and thus allegations of being an unfaithful cad were stupid. Besides, it had actually looked like Doumeki was fixing the man's garter clips, but who didn't know how to wear a garter belt? Amateurs, that was who. Amateurs whose hair was darker than Watanuki had remembered, and thus probably hadn't been the one in the hall before, so he didn't need to trust Doumeki about that to know it was true. And most of all, Doumeki's eyes hadn't looked at the convenience store kid with even one one-hundredth the fire they had right now.
Watanuki pointed his eyes quite safely at Doumeki's ear. "I'm not talking about Sunday."
"Then I'm not leaving."
His attempts to roll out of Doumeki's arms and off the bed were only a partial success. Success in that he was off the bed. Mostly. Less than total in that he was straddling Doumeki's lap, and though the pirates arms weren't around him, Doumeki's hands had found his ass and thighs, a familiar ache quickening his breath with every stroke. With the mixed-up evening they'd been having, Watanuki couldn't remember if he'd started kissing the pirate before or after that. He just knew that as long as their mouths were otherwise engaged, his rapscallion bedfellow wouldn't be talking.
Almost nine months of linen-leaping, spring-snapping, and trundle-tripping, and not once had he realized when they got out of their clothes. Watanuki would always come to his senses for some half-second, and know he'd lost his pants but forget to mind. Doumeki happened, like April turned into May, and for all he cared their buttons and buckles might have given way like the earth over an iris. He barely remembered how they'd twisted around to lie on the bed, the pirate's kisses tracing out his shoulderblades.
His lover had trapped both his hands on the mattress above his head while his breath beat into the sheets, a caress on his spine short-circuiting all the control he had left. "You can change the subject, but I've still got something to say," Doumeki murmured in his ear.
He'd been done with this conversation before they'd left his place, as soon as the pirate had asked, 'Was that your boss I saw on Sunday?' He'd been ready to pitch this conversation into a bonfire when the words, 'I want you to tell me if you're ever in trouble,' had somehow entered their personal vocabulary. Doumeki wouldn't spill what Yuuko had told him, but what did it matter? Watanuki flipped their bodies around, landing astride the pirate's hips and ignoring how that scalliwag laced their fingers together. "I don't know what got it in your head that I need rescuing, but I don't! And I don't want you riding in on your silly little sailboat to help me whenever the whim takes you, either!"
"Didn't think you would. That's why I'm not asking."
"Well, if that's all you're here for--" He barely knew that his lover had surged up from the sheets before his threats died in another kiss. One hand holding his jaw where he couldn't run from Doumeki's mouth, one stroking that spot inside his thigh -- the one that bastard knew made him shudder and strain and-- "Ah! Damn you... you..."
"When you need me, I'm gonna be there. Got it?"
"Then I guess I better not walk in on you fixing underwear on someone who isn't me!" he yelled, pushing Doumeki back down on the bed. "Got it?!"
Was there anything worse than a pirate who looked like he'd just won? Smirking and smoldering and slipping his hands into places that ought to have come with a warning label: 'May be extra sensitive to marauding knaves.' And Doumeki had the gall to chuckle as he whispered, "I can work with that."
Whatever else happened between now and tomorrow, Watanuki was still going to claim this wasn't a relationship in the morning.
~//~
Trying not to worry about the lack of Kazahaya in their room and succeeding at not worrying were two different things. Not that Rikuou had expected the kitten to think ahead, but it wasn't like him to run off without his pants. Something had to be wrong, and it wasn't like he had a gadget that homed in on hot legs. He'd have to find Kazahaya on his own.
If his partner had run down the long hall over the stage, Rikuou would have seen him, or at least heard him. His search hadn't turned up anything useful, but at least he knew the hall was a dead end. Sometimes the widget vibrated, sometimes it didn't, but the blue light stayed on -- never reacting to anything close by. Even now, the inexplicable glowing arrow drooped like a dead fish, but Rikuou planned to worry about that after he caught up with Kazahaya. Staying here and wondering wasn't going to get his partner found.
Rikuou stuffed the stray clothes around the room into his bag and rumpled the sheets til they looked like they'd seen action, then cracked the door to peek for signs that anyone was around. The trail of white slipping around a corner at the end of the hall looked like Kazahaya's dress, but could it really be that easy? Then again, he didn't have a better lead, and whoever he'd seen was running the way he wanted to go. Rikuou stepped down the hallway, keeping on his toes and near the wall so the floorboards didn't creak too much. He fished the ninja's sensor out of his bag, too. No sense wasting any time. And just his luck, the thing was still half-assedly pointing at the hall he'd checked first, over the stage, where there'd been nothing to find.
"Take me... to the edge," he heard someone sing out. "...of somewhere beyond moonlight."
It wasn't Oruha, though it sounded like her song. No polish in the voice, none of that resonance that kept the crowds downstairs in a hush. It wasn't the voice of a pro. More like the wind whipping a girl's voice through the trees. If it sounded like it was coming from anywhere, it was from down the hall where he'd seen the dress slip by. That couldn't be Kazahaya, could it? Telling him where to follow?
"Sing me Earth's refrain..."
Rikuou stole a glance at the sensor as he turned the corner. No change in the arrow, and the flitting figure was at the far end of the hall again. He turned just in time to see a flash of skirt vanish, running left out of sight. This time he chased it as fast as he could without making a ruckus.
"... where memories are secrets... always etched deep in your heart."
No way in hell that was Kazahaya. Sounded a little too much like a girl -- and too calm, too even. But that didn't mean Kazahaya wasn't running after the sound, or from it. And he couldn't even ask himself, 'What's the worst that could happen?' Kakei's jobs always managed to find trouble he couldn't imagine.
Once he hit the end of the hall, he peeked left.
Empty.
Was Kazahaya running around the center block in circles? Rikuou wanted to think not, but he couldn't quite rule it out.
"Take me... far away," the voice echoed again, this time echoing as if it came from everywhere and nowhere. "Hold me while the wind blows by..."
A jerk on his arm pulled him into the short end of hallway off to the right. Wings askew, leather top falling unfastened around his shoulders, there was the pretty face he'd been looking for, shivering by the wall. "Where have you been?!" he hissed.
"Where've you been?" Rikuou whispered, turning his partner around so he could see his back. The hooks were mismatched all the way up, where they were done at all. "If you needed me to get this, you should've stayed put. I came back for you."
"I didn't need you!"
Rikuou declined to point out as he unhooked the whole dress and fixed it that, yes, clearly he did. "So you wanted to go for a half-naked jog with all your gear lying on the floor? Sorry, my mistake."
"Maybe it didn't penetrate your solid brick skull, but there are ghosts in this place!"
"You got scared from a little singing?"
"Why would singing be scary?! There's a stage right downstairs! I mean I saw a ghost!" Kazahaya's shoulders had relaxed enough now that Rikuou could get the clasps closed higher up and straighten the wings. All the muttering and yelling in whispers must have been doing him some good, though the man clearly couldn't tell a pro's voice from a haunt's. "This.. man... was right there in the room! And he had my face! Exactly my face!"
Fastening the clip on Kazahaya's neck, Rikuou chuckled under his breath. "That's called a mirror. You look at it, it looks back at you."
"I know what a mirror is!" The man spun to shove his nose into Rikuou's face, ready to yell as usual. One arm around his partner's waist to keep him from going anywhere, Rikuou put a finger on Kazahaya's lips to keep him from saying anything. For once, his partner actually shut up, with a bright pink flush running over his whole face.
"So are you good to wrap this up, or do you need to flail and hide some more?"
"I was scared," Kazahaya murmured as Rikuou dropped his finger away. "Now I'm just a little Rikulated."
It took him a second to decide if he'd just heard his name or not before he settled on, 'Couldn't be'. "You're what?"
With a quick sniff, Kazahaya pushed away and flicked his hair off his face. "It's nothing! It's just... um. Like being percolated! Only me, and not coffee."
"You're getting dissolved in hot water and drained through a filter?"
"It kind of feels that way, yes," the other clerk answered, fussing with the train on his skirt and blushing redder by the second. "Not that you need to know. Can we please get on with this so I can change?"
Just as he opened his mouth, a door clicked behind them. Not loud. Barely audible. But it clicked all the same. When Rikuou turned around, there was still no one to be seen, and no doors ajar.
Although he now had a man's chest stapled to his back and breath running down his neck that was making him feel kind of 'percolated'. Or at least turned-on, which he couldn't afford to do over that particular someone, or at this particular moment.
"Was that a ghost?" his stray kitten asked. "Tell me it wasn't a ghost."
"Relax. I don't think ghosts use doors."
Continued in:
Ba~aby (contains explicit content -- click here for the Edited Version)
******************************************
AUTHOR'S NOTE
******************************************
Since it's been a crazy week, and my back/neck is still somewhat unhappy with prolonged periods of typing, I'll save my strength for putting the finishing touches on Chapter 4 and just extend my gratitude once more to
sumeria for finding the time to do beta in her hellish schedule.
This entry was originally posted at http://psiten.dreamwidth.org/79207.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Being the fourth part of Fifteen Mokona on a Dead Man's Chest, this is a sequel to:
I: Rum & Popcorn, II: Talk Like a Pirate Day, and III: Slings and Arrows
This series is a broad "Pirates vs. Ninjas" alternate universe comprised of short, multi-chapter stories that can be read on their own, but as time goes on, will probably make more sense if you start at the beginning. While I'm still doing housekeeping my new Dreamwidth journal, intermediate chapters may continue to point to LiveJournal.
TITLE: You Got It (gift for beltenebra)
CHAPTER: 3 of 4 - "Anything At All"
SERIES: Legal Drug, Clover, xxxHoLic. Cameos from Angelic Layer, Magic Knight Rayearth, CLAMP School Detectives, Nijuu Mensou ni Onegai (Man of Many Faces).
PAIRING: Himura Rikuou x Kudou Kazahaya, main, with a healthy dose of Doumeki Shizuka x Watanuki Kimihiro. Background (this chapter): Ookawa Utako x Ijyuin Akira, Takamura Suoh x Imonoyama Nokoru. Other chapters may vary.
DISCLAIMER: Everything in the CLAMP Megaverse was originally created by CLAMP. They are entirely to blame for creating a system of crossovers that do not easily disclaim. Characters have been adapted without authorization or approval, and I am making no profit from their use.
WARNINGS: 1) Pirates. 2) Ninjas. 3) Utako and Akira. Seriously. Have you read Nijuu Mensou? I'm not making this up.
SUMMARY: Gizmos and phantoms and thigh-highs, oh my!
RATING: PG-13 (for now). Strong language and adult situations.
Previously:
1: Anything You Want
2: Anything You Need
[Anything At All]
If there were any way to return an evening and get his money back, Kazahaya wanted it. Packed off to a haunted bar to find a legendary mystical artifact (okay, that was cool, but only that), where he'd managed to get 'stimulated' beyond all his embarrassing nightmares by a scanner-slash-sextoy (which, to be fair, had gotten them a room, but was uncalled for), and now he was trying to figure out stockings --
-- emphasis on the 'trying' --
-- because he had to wear a fucking dress. At least he'd gotten Rikuou to start off without him. The last thing Kazahaya wanted was more snark about how he should wear fluffy nonsense around the store because the pervert wanted panty shots. And he definitely didn't want any opinions about how only a useless moron couldn't put the damn thing on without help. It was staring back at him from on top of the blankets, the bright whites practically glowing under the light of the full moon coming in the window. Yard upon yard of ruffly ridiculousness, and it wasn't even a skirt that came all the way around! The teeny short-shorts in front meant he had to wear special underwear on top of everything, and you could see all the way up his legs!
And the lacy undergarment with weird buckles hanging all over the place was harder. It went somewhere around his hips -- he knew that much. Kakei'd said they held up the aforementioned stockings, which wouldn't stay on their own, but he'd be damned if he knew how it was supposed to work. Tights were so much better. Tights that went all the way up and...
... and he was not going to have opinions on the best way to dress in drag. He was sick of dressing in drag! The number of creepy delinquents who'd had asked him, 'Hey sister, what's cookin'?' since he'd gotten this job would probably reach the moon if they all stood on each others' shoulders, and that was just the creepy ones! Tugging off the black silk tube that was his most immediate hell, Kazahaya fell onto the sheets and pounded his fists at his side. Could this night get any worse?!
As he rubbed his face and tried not to whimper too loud, the tumblers clicked in the door. It hadn't been that long since Rikuou left. He couldn't possibly have made a real search of all the rooms on this hallway, let alone the whole second floor, not to mention that the goddamn sensor had gone off on the first floor and then stopped, so the orb might not even be in the building anymore. Through his tear-blurred eyes, Kazahaya saw a dark-haired head poke in.
"Is that what you call working, you lazy, good-for-nothing lug?!" he snapped. "I'll bet you--"
The door swung the rest of the way open, and Kazahaya was pretty sure his throat had closed up tight enough that only dogs would hear anything he tried to say.
That wasn't Rikuou.
That was Captain Doumeki. In... his dress. And his stockings. And his wings. And wow did all that look weird next to the hook on his right hand. Though he made it work somehow -- probably because he didn't look at all like a girl, which was the part Kazahaya took most exception to. He hated it when people mistook him for an actual girl.
And to top it off, he himself was naked, except for tiny briefs and one black stocking hanging loose, and ...
Even getting to touch an actual orb owned by an actual one of the Dioscuri wasn't worth this much humiliation. He swept up the dress from the sheets, holding it over his indecency as much as possible. Should he duck behind the bed? Probably a good idea. He'd just insulted one of the most dangerous pirates he personally had ever met, while naked in a room over a bar. The extra defense might buy him a whole half a second of life.
Not dignity, but dignity was a wash at this point.
"Relax, kid," Doumeki said, shutting the door behind him. "Nothin' I haven't seen."
He kept the dress pressed to his chest as he squeaked, "I... I... ah..." With a gulp, Kazahaya forced a breath into his lungs. "Hi. Fancy meeting you here."
"You look like you're having some trouble."
How was he supposed to answer that? Tell a pirate that ninjas had demanded he wear the same dress Doumeki was already wearing? You couldn't tell a pirate his clothes were silly! That was suicide! Nor could he mention the magic orb that might be lost forever because their signaly whooziwhatsit had pulled a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. He'd probably get laughed out of his current incarnation.
Playing with the stocking he'd dropped on the bed, Kazahaya threw on his best customer service grin and forced a tinny laugh out of his throat. "Trouble? I don't know what you mean."
Doumeki winced and unstrapped the hook on his hand (apparently it was fake -- who knew?), fastening the whole attachment somewhere out of sight under his skirt. "I mean you don't know how to wear a garter belt. What was your name again, kid?"
"... Kazahaya."
"Underwear goes on after stockings, Kazahaya, unless you like unbuckling to go to the bathroom. Take those off."
Gosh. To strip or not to strip. That was the--
Nevermind. No questions asked. Before his brain had managed to translate semi-comprehension to any level of motion, the pirate had pulled him up by the arm and turned him like a mannequin to face the bed. The offending black satiny panties were down around his ankles so fast, he could already hear Rikuou making jokes about dropping his knickers for pirates. He didn't know which was worse -- the way his face felt as hot as a Christmas turkey, or the slight breeze around his nether regions while -- oh my fucking god -- a pirate captain was fastening the mysterious lacy strap around his hips. And even in that tiny little dress, he had to assume Kakei was right about the number of concealed weapons. Knowing "Deadeye Doumeki", there was at least a wrist-mount repeating crossbow next to the hook-hand under that cloud of white silk.
If this was a dream, Kazahaya wanted to wake up five minutes ago.
"I'm surprised your boyfriend ran off before getting you dressed," Doumeki said, as if stripping and redressing near strangers in rented rooms was perfectly normal.
Of course, maybe it was perfectly normal for a pirate. How was he to know? Usually he only dealt with them in a professional capacity. And clearly the captain was versed in the how-to of making him stand on one leg so he could slip the other stocking back--
Wait.
Had he just said... boyfriend?
"You don't think I..." Kazahaya whipped around, falling to a seat on the bed with only one buckle clipped and a pirate staring at him without a flinch. Best not to assume he was joking. "I'm not dating Rikuou! I'd never have anything to do with that enormous walking boulder! He's rude, and he's a pervert, and I don't know why anyone would--"
Doumeki caught a chuckle in his fist, the same curve on his lips that Kazahaya could have sworn was a grin earlier today.
"What's so funny?"
"Sorry. Deja vu." Pulling him back to his feet, the pirate snagged one of his front clasps. "No wonder he left without doing your stockings. Must feel like Tantalus in hell."
Kazahaya went numb to everything but the gentle tug of silk to metal clips, which shouldn't have been able to unbalance him enough to need the support of the bedpost, but that sort of thing happened when his head went awash like this. Too many of his own memories were flooding back in, of a thousand times Rikuou had closed in on him only to pull away with a sneer and a joke. "There must be some mistake. Rikuou doesn't..."
Well, more importantly, he didn't want Rikuou! So why was he even flashing back to all the times he'd blacked out and woken up back in his bed -- the sense lingering that someone had carried him the whole way?
Just thinking of it woke up that strange hunger that lived in his skin, shooting from every nerve up his spine to cloud his brain. Usually, he didn't have to wait long for it to go away, since he could count on Rikuou to pull some jackass stunt that overrode everything with the need to punch his smarmy mug. But Rikuou wasn't here to be a jackass at the moment. If this quivering didn't go away soon, he'd have to think of a name. He couldn't go on calling it, 'How he felt every now and again when Rikuou wasn't living to torment him'.
'Rikulated', maybe, since it was...
No. He couldn't just assume it was Rikuou who made him feel this way. And it was a ridiculous way to feel at all, so 'ridiculated' was clearly a better choice. Much better. Just kind of a mouthful.
At least Doumeki was looking down where he couldn't see Kazahaya blushing. He could see his own face in the mirror, with the long sunset of his dignity staining his cheeks while the pirate toiled on those stupid buckles, with those wings and that dress and everything making him look like some absurd fairy godfather.
"If you say so," Doumeki answered him. "But then I don't know why he looks jealous whenever somebody hits on you."
"He does?"
The pirate captain raised his chin enough for Kazahaya to remember his fear of brigands in his cutting eyes, then grabbed the back of Kazahaya's knees and pivoted him back toward the bed. Doumeki pulled on the last clip on the stocking-holder-upper thing and said, "Ask him that, not me. I thought you looked jealous, too, so what do I know?"
A gulp stuck halfway down Kazahaya's throat. Had he? "But why would I--"
Before he could finish, the light from the hallway broke into the room, leaving Kazahaya to wonder for all of a hundredth of a second how he hadn't heard the door open. Then he saw Watanuki, staring so hard that a heat mirage seemed to bend the air around him. Yuuko's errand ninja was likely to snap over something as minor as the store missing a pattern from the new fall line of bentou boxes, and at the moment he looked ready to take the building with him in a blue-brocade hurricane. Because, for some reason, he was dressed in the armored outfit that matched the one Rikuou had gotten.
"Why. You. Dou... me... ki..."
Kazahaya looked over his shoulder at the pirate, down at his own functional nudity, and at the dress in a rumpled heap on the bed -- which he took up again for what little cover it offered him in front. "This isn't what it looks like!"
"Sure it is," Doumeki cut in, standing and walking for the door. "The kid needed help with his garter belt. He's good to go now. And whatever you're looking for ain't here."
"I should think not! And too bad for your story that I saw him running through the hallways in that dress not five minutes ago! He didn't seem to be having any trouble--"
"Hey!" Kazahaya yelled out. If there was one thing he liked less than getting called a girl, it was getting called a girl who stole other people's pirates! As if he would! Pirates were sharp!
So were ninjas, he remembered as Watanuki zipped over to him and screamed, "My name is not 'Hey'! And I expect you to keep away from that particular marauder!"
Oh God. He'd just yelled at a ninja.
And you know what?
He didn't care.
"I don't know who you saw running down that hall," he snapped right back in Watanuki's face. "But it damn well wasn't me! I've been stuck in here ever since your stupid vibrator went off in my pocket! Putting on your fucking clothes, to do your fucking--"
"It was vibrating?!"
"It was vibrating! And a little warning would have been nice, so I didn't put it somewhere quite so delicate!"
He wanted to stay mad, but the blue cast to the ninja's skin and the strange gasps he was making had Kazahaya trying to remember everything Kakei had taught him about the difference between choking and anaphylaxis. "It shouldn't have been vibrating!" Watanuki wheezed, sinking to his knees and cupping his ears in his hands. "Someone must have activated the orb. The Kragero team couldn't have gotten it that fast. It must..." After two seconds of pulling out his hair in relative silence, he whispered, "Shit," and hauled off for the door with Doumeki by the elbow.
Whatever he'd realized, he wasn't inclined to share, and Kazahaya didn't plan to run out naked. Not for that. Not if Yuuko had picked him and Rikuou for this job in the first place. She must have had a reason to think they could do it, and he'd taken the job, which meant he owed Kakei the orb -- or the breach of contract fee that was probably worth more than his life. All he had to do was follow his orders. Use the widget, find the orb, put it in the box. Period.
And for that, he would need clothes.
Kazahaya pulled up his embarrassing panties, which did go on as easily as the pirate captain had promised, and pushed his feet into the black, gold-trimmed boots that went with the outfit. Then and only then could he will himself to pick up the dress for real and face the prospect of wearing it.
On second thought, maybe he shouldn't have put the boots on first. Just to fit the leather through the shorts legs, he had to point his toes far enough that his feet screamed. At least they weren't pants. He'd have had to take the boots off and start over if they'd been pants. Then again, if they'd been pants, the stockings would have been unnecessary.
The gloves were anchored right into the sleeves -- he presumed so they didn't fall down or get lost -- but they slipped on easily enough. Thanks to Saiga's fittings, the whole bodice fit him like a second skin when it was closed. Fine for the clasps down by his ass where he could reach without pulling his arms too much. As he reached the ones by his rib cage, the damn thing wouldn't even shut! His muscles were straining the fabric, the stupid wings were pulling it out, too, and the clips were impossible to work with his fingers dressed in cloth...
And damn it, where was Rikuou?! Out looking for orbs without him because he'd said he'd be fine? Because he hadn't counted on girls' clothes being so much work? Well, he'd just have to be fine, then, or the jerk would never let him live it down.
A regular yank wasn't enough to pull out Saiga's stitchery, but he had a pocketknife. He could cut the fingers off the gloves, at least. Then he pressed every breath of air he could manage out of his lungs to give the fabric a little more slack and managed to force two halves of a clasp together, although the shoulder pulled oddly as he did it.. Of course, it wasn't as odd as the chill wind tickling up his back.
He hadn't opened the window. There was no reason--
Except maybe a blue-clad, armored figure reflected in the mirror, standing in the shadow by the bed. He must have gotten in somehow. "Rikuou!" Kazahaya yelped. "When did you--"
After he turned around, he saw the figure was nowhere near tall enough or hulking enough to be his coworker. And of course, the other clerk shouldn't have been able to sneak in when even Watanuki hadn't managed it.
It wasn't the ninja, back for blood, was it?
Kazahaya stared at the corner, certain he couldn't have made his lips move, even if he'd had the breath to ask, 'Who are you?' The figure took a step forward, but he didn't move with a normal gait. His whole shape blinked in and out like a twinkling star, gliding with an unnatural phase across the floor and into the light.
And he was translucent. The corner of the bedframe shone right through his hips, the lines of the wall moulding through his... face...
It... was like looking at a reflection in the water. Hazy and strange but... his own eyes, his own chin... the ghost even had his hair styled with the same lock running down one cheek, albeit the actual hair was obsidian dark and the bit of his bangs trailed the opposite cheek...
Which just meant they'd look exactly the same from the front. Even their eyes were on a level.
Dress unbuttoned or not, Kazahaya wasn't staying to ask why.
~//~
With the Chairman's business taking them all around Hundhammeren, he'd thought they'd never get to stop at the famous Clover bar! Not only was the proprietress just as pretty and talented as Kazuhiko-san always said, Akira simply needed to reverse engineer their recipe for pan-seared oysters. The sauce tasted like a reduction of champagne and tarragon, certainly, but experiment would show if shallots or leeks worked best. If his... (he could barely think it!) ... if his fiancee liked them, he had to know how to reproduce the flavor.
Squeezing his hand under the table, Utako asked, "Do you think we'll get to see the real ghosts?"
"Oh. Gosh. Well, I hope so. They must be nice ghosts to live in a place like this." The two gentlemen who'd snuck past the corner at the top of the stairs had clearly been living humans, not the ghosts in question. In fact, one of them had looked like Watanuki -- Akira was certain of it. Maybe the local ninja would stop by downstairs before the Chairman had finished saving the day, and he could ask about that beef au jus recipe Watanuki had used to win their last cook-off! It'd make a perfect entree for his engagement dinner, especially with ginger-blueberry tarts for dessert.
Almost a week had passed since Utako had asked him (after explaining that she'd waited ten years, she wasn't waiting any longer, and she thought fifteen was quite old enough for her to marry, thank you), but he still blushed every time he saw a peek of the ring hiding on the chain around her neck. Even with all his ninja training, Akira wasn't sure he could keep this secret until the official announcement. Now if only he could settle on a cake recipe for the actual wedding...
Across the table, Takamura-sempai sighed, "Ghosts aside... Sir. Perhaps this particular matter could be settled tomorrow. We can stop back after--"
With a shake of his head, the Chairman flicked open his fan. "Suoh. The sun should neither rise nor set on a lady's heartache."
No one reminded him that Oruha-san had claimed not to have any, since the Chairman had never once been wrong about a woman, although Akira was certain Takamura-sempai wanted to mention it. Something in the way he kept shaking his head at the lamp and silently asking, 'Why?'
"No, we'll see this out. First, we'll need lyrics to all her songs. Akira, can you get us a copy?"
He glanced up the stairs again to check the angles and the shadows for how he might sneak up into the corridor, and Akira saw Watanuki again. He'd popped into view outside one of the upstairs doors and opened it to walk in, plain as day. Having someone else sneaking around might complicate matters, of course, but if Watanuki wasn't hiding...
Not an insurmountable problem. "Well, sure, if she has a book inside the store," Akira answered. He could steal anything without people noticing -- and put it back, too, as he'd proved to himself that time he'd needed to borrow the budget notebooks from the office but the Chairman had somehow convinced Takamura-sempai to ravish him on the desk when he was so much more of a bedroom-only sort. They wouldn't have wanted to be disturbed, so Akira had done his best to get the books without disturbing them. Which he had. And without mentioning to Takamura-sempai that the peony birthmark on his tush really wasn't anything to be ashamed of, either.
After a bit of humming and tapping his fan on his chin, the Chairmain turned to Takamura-sempai. "Suoh. Could you ask--"
"Good evening, everyone," a girl's voice called out. It was the dark-haired barmaid with the sunny smile, the one Oruha-san had called Himawari. "Can I start you off with anything to drink?"
"Ladies first," the chairman laughed, beaming over his fan at Utako. "I insist, fair cousin."
"Well, I suppose I'll have some green tea." Akira's fiancee curled up to his elbow. "We both will. Won't we, sweetie?"
"That sounds lovely."
"And for you?" Himawari-san asked the Chairman.
"Could I trouble you for a hot chocolate? Maybe with a shot of Chambord and some whipped cream?"
"Of course."
Takamura-sempai sat up straighter in his chair, which he always managed even when Akira thought his posture was as perfect as it could be. "Sidecar, please. Double."
"No problem!"
"Thank you."
No one jumped at the light click of a door upstairs, nor at Watanuki running full tilt out of view (hauling a large man in a dress by the arm). One learned not to jump at things you could only hear because of ninja powers while one was in public.
"I'll bring those right up," the barmaid said. Flashing them another smile, she headed back to her post.
Akira stood as soon as she was out of earshot, dropping Utako's arm with a sigh. He had lyrics to find. Somehow. "I'll be right back, darling. You won't even notice I'm gone."
"Oh, I'll notice, honey bee. And if you're not back before our tea's ready, I'll come after you."
"Excuse me," Takamura-sempai said, stepping away from the table and blinking out of sight behind a pillar. It was just like him not to need actual instructions from the Chairman!
With a pout, Utako adjusted the gloves on her costume so all the seams were straight. "I guess if you have to go, you have to. But I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you more."
"Then do your job and hurry back! No dawdling."
"Never," he answered, and leaned over to kiss her cheek.
Akira took advantage of the same pillar Takamura-sempai had used to fade into a shadow, out of normal view, which luckily trailed up onto the stairs. From there, he could edge up the steps, one toe-touch at a time. Kazuhiko-san had said Oruha-san lived in one of the rooms above the bar, and it probably wouldn't be hard to say which one.
There were numbers on all the doors, for starters. The owner's would probably be alone in having no number at all. Who'd number the door where they actually lived?
He stepped past 203 just in time. The swinging door missed him by a hair as a young man sprinted down the hallway in a blur of white and black. Whoever he was, he seemed in an awful rush for someone who was staying upstairs. There didn't seem to be a fire or anything. But the gentleman whipped around the corner near the end of the corridor so fast his feet nearly skidded out from under him.
And so fast that he didn't notice the young girl hovering just past the turn, whose outfit matched Utako's costume to a stitch. She was resting four feet off the floor as if sitting on an invisible perch, tilting her head to watch the guest who was in such a hurry. Her image flickered and faded as her wings buzzed to life, letting her drift down til her feet rested an inch or two off the ground. Akira decided to leave her to stare down the turn at the runner in peace. He could start his search down the near hall instead. After all, you could never be too careful with ghosts.
A pity Utako hadn't been there to see her.
~//~
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
Watanuki shut the door to whatever room he'd ended up in and counted to ten in his head. He had to handle this rationally. The least he could do was count to ten! Well, to two anyway. What the hell came after two?!
"You okay?"
"No, I am damn well not okay!!" Marching straight over to the bed, he picked up a pillow and thwacked it down on Doumeki's infernally calm reasonableness. That bastard was not allowed to keep his cool when it was flipping-out time! "You...! You were supposed to be useful! Insalubrious varmint! Do you have any idea how much shit I'm going to have to clean up when this is over?!"
"No, you were kind of vague on that."
"That's because I don't know!!"
His next two smacks with the pillow hit Doumeki's guard, and the third ended with Watanuki rolled back on the bed with the feather-stuffed sack flattened between them. He was getting too used to this. Twining his legs around Doumeki's thighs shouldn't have been where he naturally ended up when he panicked, and he was definitely not going to nuzzle into his neck. Not now.
"Are you done?" Doumeki asked.
"Done with what?! Done with these stupid costumes? Done with trusting pirates?! I never did, you know! Not once! Now the entire mission is kaput, left to the whims of those untrained, uninformed... Agh!" There was no way he could let Doumeki near the orb now, not if someone who wasn't a ninja could activate it, which was the only thing that could have happened. Although it was decidedly annoying, he had to admit that the pirate captain was both skillful and powerful, and that might be all it took. Might. If some mischance had led to Doumeki actually touching it...
Mayhem! Indubitable havoc, courtesy of Clow Blast-fuckery Reed, Supreme Wingdoodle of Chaos and Paragon of All Ass-hats Everywhere! Ass hat?! He was an Ass Tiara! He might call himself a god, but as far as Watanuki cared, he was nothing but an infernal danger to life, limb, and various other parts of one particular, unsuspecting swashbuckler. Possibly other people as well.
Not that he cared.
Not about Doumeki.
Caring had not been on any terms he'd agreed to when entering into this... arrangement of mutually stimulating interactions between two people that was in no way a relationship.
As if trying to make matters worse, Doumeki pushed his chin up until Watanuki had no choice but to stare into those stupid, deep, dark, depend-on-me, I'm-a-man-of-action, soulful eyes. Man of action indeed. Watanuki could feel the growl rumbling in his throat before he could hear it. "I can't even say it's all your fault, because you didn't do anything but fondle that pretty-boy clerk!" Grabbing the other pillow from behind his head, he smacked it against Doumeki's back to punctuate his primary point. "So I'm. Definitely. Not. Done. Hitting. You. With. Pillows!"
The pirate grabbed his plush weapon and threw it off the other side of the bed. "Fine. Next time, you can clip the stockings. Now are you going to talk to me or not?"
He wasn't dropping the matter simply because he trusted a pirate about having honorable intentions. It was because he wasn't going to be pissed off even if something had happened in the other room, because Doumeki wasn't his boyfriend, he didn't want Doumeki to be his boyfriend, and thus allegations of being an unfaithful cad were stupid. Besides, it had actually looked like Doumeki was fixing the man's garter clips, but who didn't know how to wear a garter belt? Amateurs, that was who. Amateurs whose hair was darker than Watanuki had remembered, and thus probably hadn't been the one in the hall before, so he didn't need to trust Doumeki about that to know it was true. And most of all, Doumeki's eyes hadn't looked at the convenience store kid with even one one-hundredth the fire they had right now.
Watanuki pointed his eyes quite safely at Doumeki's ear. "I'm not talking about Sunday."
"Then I'm not leaving."
His attempts to roll out of Doumeki's arms and off the bed were only a partial success. Success in that he was off the bed. Mostly. Less than total in that he was straddling Doumeki's lap, and though the pirates arms weren't around him, Doumeki's hands had found his ass and thighs, a familiar ache quickening his breath with every stroke. With the mixed-up evening they'd been having, Watanuki couldn't remember if he'd started kissing the pirate before or after that. He just knew that as long as their mouths were otherwise engaged, his rapscallion bedfellow wouldn't be talking.
Almost nine months of linen-leaping, spring-snapping, and trundle-tripping, and not once had he realized when they got out of their clothes. Watanuki would always come to his senses for some half-second, and know he'd lost his pants but forget to mind. Doumeki happened, like April turned into May, and for all he cared their buttons and buckles might have given way like the earth over an iris. He barely remembered how they'd twisted around to lie on the bed, the pirate's kisses tracing out his shoulderblades.
His lover had trapped both his hands on the mattress above his head while his breath beat into the sheets, a caress on his spine short-circuiting all the control he had left. "You can change the subject, but I've still got something to say," Doumeki murmured in his ear.
He'd been done with this conversation before they'd left his place, as soon as the pirate had asked, 'Was that your boss I saw on Sunday?' He'd been ready to pitch this conversation into a bonfire when the words, 'I want you to tell me if you're ever in trouble,' had somehow entered their personal vocabulary. Doumeki wouldn't spill what Yuuko had told him, but what did it matter? Watanuki flipped their bodies around, landing astride the pirate's hips and ignoring how that scalliwag laced their fingers together. "I don't know what got it in your head that I need rescuing, but I don't! And I don't want you riding in on your silly little sailboat to help me whenever the whim takes you, either!"
"Didn't think you would. That's why I'm not asking."
"Well, if that's all you're here for--" He barely knew that his lover had surged up from the sheets before his threats died in another kiss. One hand holding his jaw where he couldn't run from Doumeki's mouth, one stroking that spot inside his thigh -- the one that bastard knew made him shudder and strain and-- "Ah! Damn you... you..."
"When you need me, I'm gonna be there. Got it?"
"Then I guess I better not walk in on you fixing underwear on someone who isn't me!" he yelled, pushing Doumeki back down on the bed. "Got it?!"
Was there anything worse than a pirate who looked like he'd just won? Smirking and smoldering and slipping his hands into places that ought to have come with a warning label: 'May be extra sensitive to marauding knaves.' And Doumeki had the gall to chuckle as he whispered, "I can work with that."
Whatever else happened between now and tomorrow, Watanuki was still going to claim this wasn't a relationship in the morning.
~//~
Trying not to worry about the lack of Kazahaya in their room and succeeding at not worrying were two different things. Not that Rikuou had expected the kitten to think ahead, but it wasn't like him to run off without his pants. Something had to be wrong, and it wasn't like he had a gadget that homed in on hot legs. He'd have to find Kazahaya on his own.
If his partner had run down the long hall over the stage, Rikuou would have seen him, or at least heard him. His search hadn't turned up anything useful, but at least he knew the hall was a dead end. Sometimes the widget vibrated, sometimes it didn't, but the blue light stayed on -- never reacting to anything close by. Even now, the inexplicable glowing arrow drooped like a dead fish, but Rikuou planned to worry about that after he caught up with Kazahaya. Staying here and wondering wasn't going to get his partner found.
Rikuou stuffed the stray clothes around the room into his bag and rumpled the sheets til they looked like they'd seen action, then cracked the door to peek for signs that anyone was around. The trail of white slipping around a corner at the end of the hall looked like Kazahaya's dress, but could it really be that easy? Then again, he didn't have a better lead, and whoever he'd seen was running the way he wanted to go. Rikuou stepped down the hallway, keeping on his toes and near the wall so the floorboards didn't creak too much. He fished the ninja's sensor out of his bag, too. No sense wasting any time. And just his luck, the thing was still half-assedly pointing at the hall he'd checked first, over the stage, where there'd been nothing to find.
"Take me... to the edge," he heard someone sing out. "...of somewhere beyond moonlight."
It wasn't Oruha, though it sounded like her song. No polish in the voice, none of that resonance that kept the crowds downstairs in a hush. It wasn't the voice of a pro. More like the wind whipping a girl's voice through the trees. If it sounded like it was coming from anywhere, it was from down the hall where he'd seen the dress slip by. That couldn't be Kazahaya, could it? Telling him where to follow?
"Sing me Earth's refrain..."
Rikuou stole a glance at the sensor as he turned the corner. No change in the arrow, and the flitting figure was at the far end of the hall again. He turned just in time to see a flash of skirt vanish, running left out of sight. This time he chased it as fast as he could without making a ruckus.
"... where memories are secrets... always etched deep in your heart."
No way in hell that was Kazahaya. Sounded a little too much like a girl -- and too calm, too even. But that didn't mean Kazahaya wasn't running after the sound, or from it. And he couldn't even ask himself, 'What's the worst that could happen?' Kakei's jobs always managed to find trouble he couldn't imagine.
Once he hit the end of the hall, he peeked left.
Empty.
Was Kazahaya running around the center block in circles? Rikuou wanted to think not, but he couldn't quite rule it out.
"Take me... far away," the voice echoed again, this time echoing as if it came from everywhere and nowhere. "Hold me while the wind blows by..."
A jerk on his arm pulled him into the short end of hallway off to the right. Wings askew, leather top falling unfastened around his shoulders, there was the pretty face he'd been looking for, shivering by the wall. "Where have you been?!" he hissed.
"Where've you been?" Rikuou whispered, turning his partner around so he could see his back. The hooks were mismatched all the way up, where they were done at all. "If you needed me to get this, you should've stayed put. I came back for you."
"I didn't need you!"
Rikuou declined to point out as he unhooked the whole dress and fixed it that, yes, clearly he did. "So you wanted to go for a half-naked jog with all your gear lying on the floor? Sorry, my mistake."
"Maybe it didn't penetrate your solid brick skull, but there are ghosts in this place!"
"You got scared from a little singing?"
"Why would singing be scary?! There's a stage right downstairs! I mean I saw a ghost!" Kazahaya's shoulders had relaxed enough now that Rikuou could get the clasps closed higher up and straighten the wings. All the muttering and yelling in whispers must have been doing him some good, though the man clearly couldn't tell a pro's voice from a haunt's. "This.. man... was right there in the room! And he had my face! Exactly my face!"
Fastening the clip on Kazahaya's neck, Rikuou chuckled under his breath. "That's called a mirror. You look at it, it looks back at you."
"I know what a mirror is!" The man spun to shove his nose into Rikuou's face, ready to yell as usual. One arm around his partner's waist to keep him from going anywhere, Rikuou put a finger on Kazahaya's lips to keep him from saying anything. For once, his partner actually shut up, with a bright pink flush running over his whole face.
"So are you good to wrap this up, or do you need to flail and hide some more?"
"I was scared," Kazahaya murmured as Rikuou dropped his finger away. "Now I'm just a little Rikulated."
It took him a second to decide if he'd just heard his name or not before he settled on, 'Couldn't be'. "You're what?"
With a quick sniff, Kazahaya pushed away and flicked his hair off his face. "It's nothing! It's just... um. Like being percolated! Only me, and not coffee."
"You're getting dissolved in hot water and drained through a filter?"
"It kind of feels that way, yes," the other clerk answered, fussing with the train on his skirt and blushing redder by the second. "Not that you need to know. Can we please get on with this so I can change?"
Just as he opened his mouth, a door clicked behind them. Not loud. Barely audible. But it clicked all the same. When Rikuou turned around, there was still no one to be seen, and no doors ajar.
Although he now had a man's chest stapled to his back and breath running down his neck that was making him feel kind of 'percolated'. Or at least turned-on, which he couldn't afford to do over that particular someone, or at this particular moment.
"Was that a ghost?" his stray kitten asked. "Tell me it wasn't a ghost."
"Relax. I don't think ghosts use doors."
Continued in:
Ba~aby (contains explicit content -- click here for the Edited Version)
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
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Since it's been a crazy week, and my back/neck is still somewhat unhappy with prolonged periods of typing, I'll save my strength for putting the finishing touches on Chapter 4 and just extend my gratitude once more to
sumeria for finding the time to do beta in her hellish schedule.
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