(no subject)
Title: Return to Sender: Red Letter Day
Summary: Words are one of the most powerful binding forces. What will Watanuki be bound to?
Rating: UST. Except really RST, sort of. :D
A/N: *twiddles thumbs* What? … *blinks* What? I don’t have it, it’s down there!
Honey, understand-I won't make demands...
I won’t rest in stone, or alone-
I’m all ready to go…but you already know.
Carbon Leaf - “Life Less Ordinary”
* * *
When Watanuki walked through the gateway to her shop that night, Yuuko knew right away. She paused in her reading of Young Magazine, sighed deeply, then put the publication down and rose to her feet.
“Maru, Moro,” she said softly. “Will you prepare Watanuki’s bed for him?” Alerted by the serious tone, the constructs nodded anxiously and scampered away to do as she’d asked. Mokona’s long ears lay flat against its black body; it peered up at her.
“Will everything be all right?” it asked her somberly. “Can’t you do anything to help?”
Yuuko shook her head. “Only those two can make it all right,” she said as the front door opened and then closed, and when Watanuki appeared in doorway to the parlor holding an overnight bag, Yuuko frowned slightly.
“Did Doumeki-kun’s flight go well?” she asked. She had a very good idea of how the flight-and after-had gone. She hadn’t heard from Watanuki all day, and knowing her boy, that was not a good sign. If nothing else, Yuuko was very a very accomplished reader of signs.
Watanuki gave her a long look, then nodded mutely. He looked so very tired, she thought, and very deliberately blank.
She had questions, of course, and things to say. But they could wait. It wouldn’t do to add more to the boy’s already exhausted emotional state. The fact that he’d come here to stay the night, instead of staying at his apartment where he would be alone, spoke volumes for how affected he was by what had happened today.
“Maru and Moro are setting out the futon for you,” she said. “You know where your room is.”
He nodded again, turning to go.
“Watanuki.”
He stopped, his back to her, and waited.
She thought of a dozen things to tell him-it would be all right, he still had a chance, a choice.
“You’ll make breakfast in the morning, I assume,” she said instead.
Watanuki paused, nodded once more, then walked to his room without a word.
When he’d gone, Yuuko stood for a long time, staring into space, wondering.
* * *
Watanuki was just as quiet the next morning as he slowly mixed pancake batter in a bowl. Maru, Moro, and Mokona, sensing that his pensive mood hadn’t abated in the least, for once didn’t jump at him demanding to lick the spatula. In fact, they avoided the kitchen altogether. This suited Watanuki fine, as it left him plenty of time to brood over the breakfast preparations.
He was just setting the finished pancakes on a plate when Yuuko swept into the kitchen and leaned against the doorway.
“Watanuki,” she said soberly, gently. “Enough.”
He knew better than to think she was talking about the pancakes.
“Did you know?” he asked her without looking up from the plate. “What Doumeki wanted to-what would happen yesterday?” He fiddled with the rim for a moment, tracing it absently with his fingers. “Is that why you sent me to the airport?” He finally chanced a glance at her.
There was amusement, and just a trace of exasperation, on her face, but not a hint of surprise. “I told him,” she murmured ruefully with a shake of her head, “that you don’t adapt as quickly as he does to sudden changes of ground.” With a light laugh, she shook her head. “And he went ahead on his own anyway, telling you his feelings before he could lose his courage.” She exhaled. “But he is Doumeki-kun, after all. Making his own choices and his own destiny is what he does best.”
At the easy admission, Watanuki swallowed hard and stared intently at the pancakes.
Yuuko watched him, the amusement fading just slightly. “Yes, I knew, Watanuki,” she said softly. And I believe, on some level, you knew as well.” When his eyes flew to hers in immediate denial, she continued in a sterner tone, “Why else would you have gone to the airport yesterday to meet Doumeki-kun’s plane?”
“You told me to go!” Watanuki protested, showing, for the first time since the evening before, a spark of his usual passion. “You said it was an errand, and I-”
“Chose to go,” Yuuko finished for him, her eyes glittering. “Don’t you understand by now, Watanuki, that more than what others tell you to do, it is your own choices that matter the most?”
Struggling against her implacable logic-and the truth in it-Watanuki let his shoulders slump in defeat. “So what am I supposed to do now?” he asked wearily. “It’s all-it’s all strange now. It’s all wrong.” He frowned down at the plate of pancakes. “It’s all wrong,” he repeated, more quietly.
“But it’s not too late to make it right again.” Yuuko, her eyes thoughtful, stood up straight and reached into one voluminous sleeve. She extracted from it an object that, over the last three weeks, had become very familiar to Watanuki: a letter enclosed in an envelope.
His heart pounded as he stared at the letter. “Is that-” He couldn’t finish the sentence, not sure whether it was dread or anticipation that flooded him.
“I received this letter yesterday,” she said, overriding him, “with the request that I only give it to you in case of emergencies.” Her tone lightened just a little. “I think this situation qualifies in that category, don’t you?”
Watanuki gulped, then nodded cautiously.
“Watanuki,” said Yuuko, her voice now very serious, “you now have another choice to make, regarding Doumeki-kun.”
The words rang in his head, and Watanuki remembered the other time she’d said them to him-when Doumeki had shot and exorcised the spirit woman. That time, Doumeki had made a choice, despite what potential damage it could have done to his relationship with Watanuki, and Watanuki had had to decide whether to accept or reject Doumeki’s choice. Now-it was the same thing all over again, except instead of the spirit woman, Doumeki had destroyed the carefully crafted wall of ignorance and antagonism Watanuki had placed between them.
I suppose I should have seen it coming, he thought now, staring at the letter as if it would explode any second now. From that day on, I should have expected this to happen. He’s always…chosen me, hasn’t he?
“You knew,” he heard himself saying dazedly. “Even then, you knew, didn’t you? What would happen.”
Yuuko’s lips curved just the smallest bit. She put the letter on the counter beside her and turned to leave the kitchen. Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder and said quietly, “What have I been telling you about hitsuzen, you silly boy?”
And then she was gone.
Watanuki blinked after she’d left, his eyes on the letter lying on the counter. He almost didn’t want to know what it said-or who it was from-but something in him made him walk slowly to the counter to pick up the letter. It said Kimihiro Watanuki on the front in neat English. His eyebrows drew together as that same something inside him alternately clenched and relaxed.
It wasn’t from Doumeki. It was from his cousin Vera.
He opened it curiously, wondering how Vera could have gotten the letter to Yuuko once Doumeki had left and presumably ended the agreement between himself and Yuuko to send and receive the letters. But the words on the page distracted him from that line of thought.
Dear Watanuki-kun,
Okay, my cousin-you're probably not going to believe me-is a complete mess right now. I just saw him off about an hour ago, and it was not pretty. I mean, he is Shizuka, so he's not that readable, but it was enough. I think I know what he's worried about.
Watanuki felt his cheeks go red. Had everyone known about Doumeki’s feelings except Watanuki?
He thought very suddenly of Himawari’s repeated declarations of “You two are so close!”-Yuuko’s enigmatic smiles and sly comments-Vera’s cheerful assumptions and hints. He closed his eyes briefly and stifled a groan of horrified embarrassment.
The letter continued,
He probably could have been a little less reckless about it, but hey, that's him. Just...please, give him a chance. Think about what he says. You seem like a really nice guy and all, but I don't know what you'll do by accident... Just please don't break his heart. That's all I ask. Think about it. Really think about it.
Vera
Watanuki’s heart was thudding again as he finished the letter. He noticed a short line of postscript at the bottom of the page and read that too.
He blinked, then read the postscript again. For a long moment, he could only stare at the words.
When he looked up again, he was smiling.
* * *
Doumeki was frowning.
More specifically, he was scowling.
This was an uncharacteristically negative expression for him. Also, it was a bit ridiculous, since he was only sweeping the temple grounds, and really had nothing in particular to scowl at, so he scowled at the ground as he swept.
To be truthful, he wasn’t really sweeping anymore either; he’d been standing on the same area of the walkway for five minutes scratching morosely at the leaf-free pavement with the broom, lost in sullen contemplation.
A combination of jet-lag and utter despair had sent him to bed right after he’d gotten home. He’d forced his mind to empty itself of all thought-tried to do the same with his emotions, but couldn’t quite manage it-and sank into blissful unconsciousness in short order. He hadn’t awoken until about an hour ago, and over breakfast it had become painfully obvious that unless he had something to do, he’d be in a horrible mood the rest of the day. This had led to him volunteering to sweep the temple; ignoring his parents’ objections that he give himself a day off to rest, he had retreated to the relative quiet of the grounds.
The sound of footsteps-quick, determined, and so painfully familiar-had his head jerking up. The scowl melted into a wide-eyed gape of disbelief as he locked eyes with Watanuki, who was marching up the walkway like he was the front line of the cavalry, armed with an empty cloth grocery bag and a scowl of his own.
Genghis Khan would have turned tail and fled at the sight, Doumeki thought, dismay and joy warring so fiercely within him that he felt faintly nauseous.
Watanuki came to a halt exactly three feet away from Doumeki and planted his hands on his hips, the empty bag swaying with the motion, his eyes glinting dangerously.
“What,” he said very concisely, “do you think you are doing?”
Taken aback and completely unprepared, Doumeki stared at him and said the first thing that sprang to mind.
“Sweeping?”
This earned him a glare. “Don’t get cute with me,” Watanuki snapped, mouth twisting in annoyance. “Why aren’t you already helping me shop for the food I’ll be making for your consumption, you idiot?”
Doumeki looked at him blankly, the broom in his loosened grip tilted at an angle. He’d completely forgotten about the picnic. Did he just call me cute?
Watanuki must have sensed he’d forgotten, from the silence he got as a reply. He huffed, “You thought you could get out of helping, didn’t you?”
“With the picnic?” Doumeki clarified, trying to get his thoughts in order and fighting down a rising tide of hope. A moment ago, Watanuki was the absolute last person he’d wanted to see. Now, he had the odd feeling that he’d probably go crazy if Watanuki tried to leave without him.
“Of course with the picnic, moron!” Watanuki glowered at him. “What else would I be talking about?”
Doumeki blinked. “I…don’t know?” he ventured, still testing the waters.
“That’s because there isn’t anything else,” Watanuki informed him tartly. “I told you that you were going to be helping me shop for and prepare the food. Just because you seem to have developed acute amnesia doesn’t excuse you. I won’t let Himawari-chan’s special day be ruined by your stupidity and your attempt to wriggle out of your share of the work!”
There was a small space of time in which Doumeki processed both content and context.
“All right,” he said after a moment. Part of him thought, Is this a good idea, being together with him after…yesterday? But the rest of him thought that if Watanuki wasn’t going to mention it, then neither would he. It hurt a little that Watanuki would just ignore his confession as if it had never happened, but Doumeki preferred that to having Watanuki ignore him.
Watanuki nodded sharply. “I don’t want to hear any inane comments or complaints from you today,” he warned Doumeki. “I don’t have the patience to deal with them. I’ll simply refuse to feed you. Got that?”
Amused despite the torrent of emotion inside him, Doumeki nodded.
Watanuki spun on his heel so that he wasn’t looking at Doumeki. “Well then, let’s go,” he said impatiently. And then, more quietly, still without looking at him: “…Shizuka.”
Doumeki, in the process of laying the broom aside, stared at Watanuki’s back, frozen. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly-and if, by some miracle, he had, he wasn’t certain if it was a peace offering, a truce, or something else entirely.
A long moment passed while he stood staring at Watanuki.
“All right,” he said again finally. “Kimihiro.”
The back of Watanuki’s neck turned the faintest shade of red. He started for the temple gates with the stride of a man going to war, very carefully not meeting Doumeki’s eyes. Doumeki trailed behind him, silent, watchful, and completely bewildered.
* * *
“Put that down, idiot,” Watanuki ordered irritably, “it’s the wrong brand. Don’t touch anything until I tell you to go get it.” He busied himself with a list and several boxes, checking prices, weight, and nutrition information.
Doumeki replaced the item on the shelf and shrugged apologetically at the increasingly flustered store assistant. With an exasperated headshake, the young man left them to shop on their own, his offers of assistance having been politely but firmly rejected by Watanuki.
“I wonder if Himawari-chan would like this flavor,” Watanuki was now murmuring to himself, apparently thinking aloud.
Doumeki glanced at the box in question. He tilted his head. “I like it,” he offered after a moment.
Watanuki looked up at him in annoyance. “I thought I said no inane commentary from you,” he said crisply, putting the box in the cart, replacing the others on the shelf, and continuing down the aisle, still scolding. “That includes your unwarranted opinion, just so you know.”
Doumeki ambled along behind him, hands now in his pockets, where they were much less likely to get him in trouble with Watanuki. “Whatever you say,” he said, keeping a straight face.
He got a narrow glance from Watanuki anyway. “And sarcasm.” Watanuki shoved the shopping list at him, and purely out of reflex, Doumeki pulled a hand from his pocket and took it. “Go get the last three things on the list. Do not drop, break, or taste them. Do not lose this list. Do not take longer than ten minutes. Do not make me come looking for you.” He made an impatient shooing motion. “Go on!” He turned away, already searching for something else. Apparently, despite his order for Doumeki to not lose the list, he’d already memorized the items on it.
All three hundred of them, thought Doumeki with a glance at the paper, shaking his head in admiration. And Watanuki complained about chemistry homework and trigonometric equations…
He pocketed the list and nodded at Watanuki. “As you wish,” he said, perfectly blandly, as he sauntered away.
“I heard that!” Watanuki called after him, but there was no answer. That smart-ass. He would pick now to develop a sense of humor.
As soon as Doumeki was out of sight, Watanuki sped up the aisle and down another with the furiously fast pace of a demon escaping hell, long experience with these particular ingredients leading him to them without even a moment’s thought. It was something Doumeki requested annoyingly often, after all, being one of his favorite foods. Watanuki knew that Doumeki hadn’t asked for it this time, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t request it later. It was better to be prepared, when it came to Doumeki.
He thought of yesterday’s fiasco and mentally cringed.
Definitely better to be prepared.
He tossed the ingredients into the cart, hiding them under a few other items, but on the last item he got distracted by a bargain price. While he was still wavering over whether to accept the bargain or just go with the one he usually got, Doumeki appeared next to the cart, list and items in hand. Watanuki scrambled to act casual, putting the bargain item into the cart and holding out a hand for the list, hoping Doumeki wouldn’t notice just what he was shopping for.
That was barely five minutes, the jerk, he thought sulkily. I should have known he’d be quicker when it came to food.
Doumeki handed him the paper and put his successfully retrieved items into the cart before looking down at the one Watanuki had just put into it. “Is that for-”
“DID YOU FIND WHAT I TOLD YOU TO FIND GOOD SHUT UP LET’S GO,” said Watanuki, and continued down the aisle.
* * *
Watanuki remained generally speechless until they reached his apartment and were about to cross the threshold of that most sacred of sanctums-his kitchen.
"I'll only say this once," he warned in his most threatening tone. "Woe betide you if you forget. Do not touch anything in this kitchen without my express permission or I will disembowel you with it." He stepped inside and began unloading groceries in a similarly threatening manner. A mere glance at his very threatening appearance ought to have sent any mere mortal into a fit of terror-predictably, Doumeki only shrugged.
"Fair enough," he replied.
He's agreeing to do something I told him to. Will wonders never cease? But then again, maybe it was just in hopes that Watanuki would-
Well, it wasn't as if-
He couldn't be expecting-
Maddened by the uncomfortable turn his thoughts had taken, Watanuki added, "Unless I tell you to get something for me. In which case you will do exactly as I tell you. Improvisation will only earn you misery."
Doumeki didn't reply, which really could have meant anything, but Watanuki was determined to consider it a positive sign. Well, it's not like he wasn't warned of his imminent fate, should he choose to disobey the great Watanuki-sama. Satisfied, Watanuki returned to the more productive activity of unloading groceries and beginning preparations. He worked quickly, multitasked with skills honed from years of cooking augmented by recent catering to Doumeki's questionable and troublesome tastes, driven now by a desire to get out of here to a less awkward place.
Every so often he would snap a request-"That spoon over there, bring it here" or "Turn off the stove!"-and Doumeki would miraculously comply. It was almost frightening, actually, how willing to help Doumeki had suddenly become. Maybe there were upsides to this-ah-delicate situation.
Then again, Watanuki thought as his face reddened and he hid in a cloud of steam, they were hardly worth the general trouble of it all. Just in case he'd been found out anyway, he directed Doumeki to go for another measuring cup from a drawer on the other side of the kitchen. After a few moments of studiously concentrating on cooking, the fluster faded.
A few minutes later he realized that Doumeki had never delivered the requested instrument, and turned around to demand it. He stopped dead, however, upon catching sight of the other boy apparently captivated by a horribly familiar piece of paper, required utensil dangling from one hand. With a sinking feeling, Watanuki remembered where he'd stashed the letters he hadn't even considered recycling.
"I told you," he said in a voice that teetered between whisper and angry hiss, "not to touch anything I didn't ask for." Heart pounding wildly-angrily, he told himself-he took a few steps away from his cooking.
Doumeki didn't even have the good grace to look chagrined. "You kept them," he said, slowly turning to meet Watanuki's eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Watanuki grabbed the last strands of his composure and pulled himself together. "Why can't you ever follow the simplest instructions? Or at least just-leave things alone!" The sound of bubbling pulled him back to the stove, where a neglected pot was in danger of overflowing. Dealing with damage control, he added, "Of course I-of course I kept them, stupid. I had to make sure you were learning the proper way to write a letter, didn't I?"
"Did I?"
Watanuki glanced back and then quickly forward, unnerved by the sincerity in Doumeki's face. "As - as best as could be expected from you, I suppose." Which wasn't really fair, and not entirely accurate either. Especially toward the end, the letters had been getting rather in-depth. Certainly they said more than Doumeki ever said in words.
Though he was getting his message across loud and clear right now without saying anything…
"I mean, you're not exactly amazing with words, so I guess that any time you actually manage to string a sentence together I should pay attention," Watanuki amended, turning the heat off from underneath one of the pans.
"You're much better at talking," Doumeki agreed. It might have been a jibe, but Watanuki was not sure and so for the first time in history gave him the benefit of the doubt.
He snorted instead, and replied, "Well, we can't all be the stoic, silent type, can we?" Emptying the contents of another pan into a bowl, he added, "You'll need to taste one of these when they're cool, to tell me if they're cooked all the way."
There was a span of silence (at least, in regards to conversation) as the dumplings cooled and Watanuki busied himself with everything else, trying to convince himself that there was nothing awkward at all about the moment. Even if there was, though, it was obviously all Doumeki's fault for reading things he had no right to (even if he had written them originally). But that was beside the point, since there wasn't anything awkward about this at all, and…
Oh, hell, Watanuki thought, that's the biggest lie I've ever told myself.
Sometime over the summer he and Doumeki had managed to become proper friends. On paper, it had all been so much easier, and then suddenly they were back and things were different and it was harder to remember how they'd managed to have conversations before. And then everything had been cut short, and for once it really was Doumeki's fault-well, mostly. But somehow Watanuki couldn't fault him for it. It wasn't fair. And it especially wasn't fair that it now fell to him to fix everything. It wasn't as if he even liked the guy-except that wasn't entirely the case, now, was it?
Well, if he wanted to make things right-just for his peace of mind, of course-he'd have to start somewhere.
"…Hey," he said presently, very carefully focusing on the pot in front of him.
"Yeah?" Doumeki's voice was just as seemingly-disinterested as ever.
Watanuki took a deep breath to prepare for what he was about to do. "Do you really-”
"Yes," Doumeki cut in, and color flooded to Watanuki's face. He'd been seen clear through, but he lost his nerve and furiously backtracked.
"I-I wasn't finished talking! I meant-I meant-” Flailing anxiously to find his balance again, Watanuki grabbed a plate and viciously placed the contents of another pot on it. "Do you really want me to make inarizushi, because-because I don't want to waste the ingredients, and, and…" He trailed off, not sure where to go next, aware that his face was bright red and he was utterly failing at redirection. That had been one huge mistake.
But Doumeki, upon a quick glance, seemed to be allowing it. "Yes," he repeated. "I do."
Infinitely grateful that he'd escaped intact, Watanuki gathered the ingredients on another plate, making a bit more noise than was necessary in his relief. "O-okay, then. But you'd better not complain to me later. If-if you end up not liking them."
Doumeki said something too quietly to be properly understood, but it sounded like "I always like them."
Going with it, Watanuki replied, "Well you'd better. Because if you change your mind later, you'll-you'll still have to eat them!" A more potent threat had never been uttered.
"Gladly," was all Doumeki said. But then again, such short replies were what he did best.
Most of the food was ready by now, so Watanuki busied himself in packing it away in the bentou boxes so that he didn't have to look Doumeki in the eye. He wasn't entirely sure if it had just been inarizushi he had been talking about, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Better to think about easy, safe things, like the lining up of rolls in a compartment, the careful organization of dumplings to fit as many in as possible…
…The sound of Doumeki chewing.
Looking up, Watanuki spotted the last of a piece of inarizushi disappear into Doumeki's mouth. "DON'T EAT ALL OF THOSE, YOU GLUTTON!" he all but shrieked, perhaps reacting a bit more strongly than was necessary. "SAVE SOME FOR HIMAWARI-CHAN!" He waved his arms violently up and down, expertly avoiding the careful setup around him.
"I didn't," Doumeki pointed out.
Watanuki leveled his best glare at the food-snatcher. "Augh, why must you always make things so much more complicated than they need-”
The events of the past two days flashed through his head like his life sometimes did in a particularly precarious situation, and suddenly he didn’t have it in him to finish that sentence. And there he was, midway through it, mouth gaping like a fish, completely at a loss for words.
Doumeki's expression remained the same, as usual. "Hm?"
Courage still failing him, Watanuki turned away again, resuming his food-packing at a more sedate pace. "Nothing," he replied, very carefully not sighing. "Don't-don't eat them all."
There was a long pause, in which Watanuki finished his cooking and placed everything into the boxes. As he began to clean up, he snuck a glance over his shoulder at Doumeki. He was eating another piece of inarizushi as if he had no qualms at all about being caught-or, perhaps more accurately, there was nothing that could be done to him that would actually cause him distress.
Watanuki sighed, and wished he could say the same.
* * *
“I don’t see Kunogi,” said Doumeki, following docilely after Watanuki. He had the enormous picnic basket-although it had transcended ‘basket’ and bordered on ‘barrel’-in one hand. It was really heavy, what with Watanuki cramming it full of the equivalent of an entire month’s worth of food. He switched it to his other hand casually.
“Be careful with that!” was the reply. Easy for you to say, Doumeki thought, nonplussed. Watanuki was only carrying the bag with the drinks in it. “And they-she said th-she’d be at the tree at the bottom of this hill.”
“They?” Doumeki asked, carefully shifting the basket again when Watanuki wasn’t looking.
“Shut up and concentrate on not tripping over your own feet.”
They crested the hill and looked down to where Himawari sat on a large red-and-white-checkered blanket-accompanied by Yuuko and Mokona, who were already into a bottle (or three) of something that was probably alcoholic.
“Ah,” said Doumeki. “Them.”
Watanuki sighed irritatedly. “When Yuuko-san found out about the pa-picnic, she insisted that she come too, and of course that meat bun wouldn’t leave me alone until I said it could come as well.” He started slowly down the hill. “I’m surprised no one else invited themselves along,” he muttered. “I almost expect the Ame-Warashi to show up with her umbrella and start swinging.”
“Don’t tempt fate,” Doumeki said, following just behind him. Watanuki shot him a glance, but said nothing.
As they approached the small group, Yuuko lifted a cup into the air. “Ah, they’re here now, so everyone-”
As one, Himawari, Yuuko, and Mokona cried, “Welcome home, Doumeki-kun!”
Doumeki blinked.
Watanuki looked away, arms folded over his chest.
Doumeki put down the basket with extreme care, straightened, and looked from each grinning face to the next, still blinking.
“I can see the surprise worked!” Yuuko trilled, satisfaction in her voice. “Sit down, Doumeki-kun, have a rest-you’ve been up and about all morning, haven’t you?”
“So have I,” said Watanuki pointedly, setting down his bag of drinks. “I don’t hear you asking me to sit down and rest.”
Yuuko ignored him and poured Doumeki a drink as the archer seated himself. He raised his cup to hers as she exclaimed, “Cheers, Doumeki-kun!” As he sipped, his eyes found Himawari’s.
She giggled at him. “It’s so good to have you back, Doumeki-kun!”
He bowed slightly toward her. “Thanks.”
Mokona bounced over. “Yo, Doumeki-kun,” it greeted him, its tiny eyes already moving past him to the basket. “So what are we eating?” It jumped at the basket and did its best to burrow inside.
“Hey, meat bun, don’t do that,” said Watanuki, crouching down to lift Mokona bodily out of the basket and set it aside. “Wait until all the food is set out.”
“Here, come sit with me, Mokona-chan,” said Himawari. As it agreeably launched itself into her lap, she said to Doumeki conversationally, “You know, all of this was Watanuki-kun’s doing.”
Watanuki almost dropped the container he was taking out the basket. “I-but-that’s-”
Doumeki lifted an eyebrow at him. “Is that so.” It wasn’t so much a question of Is this true? as it was a question of Why?
Watanuki’s cheeks were red again. “I-It was Himawari-chan’s idea,” he protested. “I just went along with it because it’s what she wanted! A-and you’d better be grateful that she thought of you!” he finished weakly, springing to his feet as his arms waved wildly. “Because if it weren’t for Himawari-chan, I wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble!”
“You don’t need to be modest, Watanuki-kun,” said Himawari-chan in a very innocent voice. Doumeki noted with some amusement the twinkle in her eyes. “I only suggested that it would be nice to have a party for Doumeki. It was really you who did all the planning and the work, and you even kept it a secret from Doumeki, having him help you with the food like you did.” She turned to Doumeki. “You thought it was just a picnic instead of a party, didn’t you?”
“I had no idea,” admitted Doumeki.
Himawari clapped her hands. “Watanuki-kun knows you so well, to be able to surprise you like this!”
As if their thoughts mirrored one another’s, Watanuki looked down at Doumeki just as Doumeki glanced up at him. The air between them suddenly hummed with tension.
“He surprised me, all right,” said Doumeki blandly. “I didn’t expect it to happen like this at all.”
Watanuki’s eyes flickered with some indecipherable emotion. “You’re not the only one who was surprised by how things turned out,” he told the archer sharply.
“At least you knew what you would say,” Doumeki returned evenly, his tone still perfectly inscrutable. His eyes, though, flashed very subtly up at Watanuki. “Or what to do, or how to act. You weren’t worried about messing up.”
Watanuki blinked. His brows knitted together. “You didn’t-”
“I had,” said Doumeki, very flatly, “no idea.” The emphasis was light, but it was there.
Watanuki was silent, but now he looked at Doumeki with something akin to puzzlement, and even dawning realization. Slightly embarrassed at his own bitterness, Doumeki looked away. Himawari looked back and forth between them, aware of the tension but not sure of its cause. She clasped her hands together, worried but too polite to ask what the matter was.
“Now that you mention it,” said Yuuko lazily, her eyes nonetheless alert and aware. “Our Watanuki certainly did have a plan for today.”
Mildly annoyed by the unexpected (and unwanted) reminder of his fumbling of his own plan yesterday, Doumeki nevertheless sipped calmly. “Did he.”
“Oh yes.” Yuuko’s lips curved into a small smile that had an air of triumph about it. “He planned very extensively. It seemed vital to him that everything go exactly right.”
“Yuuko-san!” wailed Watanuki. “Stop saying embarrassing things that aren’t true!”
“Watanuki-spelled-April-first made lists,” confided Mokona from where it lounged across Himawari’s knees. “Lists and lists of Doumeki-kun’s favorite foods!”
“When he wasn’t writing letters,” put in Yuuko wickedly, her eyes dancing.
Watanuki made an inarticulate noise, sounding like a small animal that had been stepped on. “That’s-”
“Really,” said Doumeki, looking at Watanuki again. His eyes were calmer now, too; the faint hint of anger that had tinted them before was gone now.
Watanuki stuck out his chin. “I deny everything,” he declared.
“As usual,” murmured Yuuko into her drink. Himawari, the only one sitting close enough to have heard her, stifled her giggles.
Doumeki looked at the picnic basket pointedly. “Do you need a plan to set up the food?” he said to Watanuki, who glared down at him.
“Shut up, Shizuka,” he said.
Doumeki looked at him, startled. He’d been almost certain that he’d never hear his name cross Watanuki’s lips again. Watanuki looked back at him. His mouth was set in a frown, but something in his eyes loosened the remains of the nervousness nudging Doumeki’s heart. He shrugged, feeling relief mixed with longing spread throughout his chest.
“Whatever you say, Kimihiro.”
While Watanuki set out dishes and slapped away Doumeki’s ‘helping’ hands, with Mokona bouncing around and generally getting in the way, Yuuko and Himawari studied the boys with knowing smiles.
“They’re even better friends than before,” murmured Himawari, her eyes fond as she watched Doumeki lift up a plate of ohagi and Watanuki snatch it away from him.
Yuuko glanced at her. “‘Friends?’” she repeated in a low voice, amused.
“Well. That too,” said Himawari.
They laughed softly together.
Watanuki finally lost his patience with Mokona, who was now helping Doumeki ‘help’ Watanuki. “Stop sneaking food!” he shouted at them both. “You have to wait until all the food is ready, and besides,” he added primly, looking over the rim of his glasses at them. “Ladies first!”
“Awww,” cooed Yuuko in delight. “Watanuki is such a gentleman.”
He shot her a flat look. “I said ladies first, Yuuko-san,” he told her. “Which means Himawari-chan goes before you.”
Yuuko pouted. “What are you implying, Watanuki-kun?” she said in a dangerously sweet voice. He only rolled his eyes at her and smiled at Himawari, who beamed back at him brightly.
“Instead of that, why don’t we let Doumeki-kun go first?” she suggested. “Since he’s the guest of honor, after all.”
“What honor?” mumbled Watanuki, shooting a look at Doumeki. “I would think you’d have had enough back at my apartment,” he said pointedly.
A silence fell over their group. Yuuko and Mokona exchanged twin smirks.
“Oh, really?” said Yuuko in a mischievous tone. Watanuki blinked at her, lost.
“What really?” he asked.
“Is that so,” said Mokona, grinning deviously.
“No,” said Doumeki, helping himself to the food. Watanuki turned to him in astonished annoyance.
“What do you mean, no?” he demanded. “You shouldn’t even be hungry with all you ate at my apartment! You insatiable, ungrateful glutton, Shizuka! And did you even say thanks for the food? You mannerless swine-!”
Himawari dissolved into helpless giggles as Watanuki railed at the imperturbable Doumeki, who ate with one finger stuffed in the ear nearest to the source of the noise.
Yuuko laughed as well, swirling her drink in the cup. “Watanuki-kun,” she said, smiling, “don’t ever change, hmm?”
Watanuki looked at her suspiciously, distracted from his tirade. “What are you talking about, Yuuko-san?”
Mokona skipped over to pluck a piece of sushi from Doumeki’s plate. “Watanuki-kun is happy the way things are now, right?” it said with its mouth full.
Blinking down at it, Watanuki said, “Well…” Looking up, his eyes caught Doumeki’s again. Doumeki looked back at him, his face expressionless as it ever was. They held one another’s gaze for a long, long moment.
“Yes,” said Watanuki finally.
Mokona nodded as if it had already known the answer. Doumeki lifted an eyebrow, silently asking for clarification.
“But Yuuko-san,” went on Watanuki thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving Doumeki’s, “Sometimes…sometimes change is necessary, you know?” His gaze, blue-and-gold, held secrets and shadows and all the truths Doumeki had ever known. “Sometimes it’s better to change. I can’t always be the same person, because maybe…”
He smiled, hesitantly, sweetly, so very shyly, at Doumeki.
“Maybe I’ll be happier because of the change.”
Yuuko hummed contentedly. “You may have a point, Watanuki-kun,” she murmured.
Doumeki, holding Watanuki’s eyes, smiled ever so slowly back.
Watanuki thought of the photos Vera had sent him, and of the postscript she’d written to the letter he’d read just that morning.
P.S. You asked me why Shizuka was smiling in those pictures. Don’t you know?
“You should write to your cousin,” he said quietly as Yuuko, Himawari, and Mokona began to fill plates of food for themselves, chatting lightly between the three of them.
Doumeki blinked. “In general, or for a specific reason?”
Watanuki tilted his head to one side, oddly flustered. “Well, in general too, but-you should let her know that-that-”
“That things worked out all right?” finished Doumeki. He felt…lighter. Happier than he’d been since he’d gotten off the plane yesterday.
Watanuki thought about it and realized it was-surprisingly enough-exactly the right thing to say. “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Tell her we’ll keep in touch.”
“We?” repeated Doumeki softly, a question in his eyes.
Watanuki flushed. “F-forget it!” he said hastily. “Never mind, I’ll write to her! The way you write, I don’t trust you to properly relay any messages! The way you write letters is atrocious!”
Doumeki shrugged philosophically. “Worked for us, didn’t it?”
Watanuki shot him a quelling look and did not answer, turning to get his own food so that Doumeki wouldn’t see his face, and the small smile on his lips.
…Don’t you know? He was smiling for you. -VH
Yeah. It worked for them.
* * *
* * *
A/N: Yes, dear friends, that is the end of “Return to Sender.”
However. It is not the end of the “Return to Sender” universe. :DDD If you follow this link, you will discover that Pen-chan and I have created a community just for this fic universe. Because yes, we are going to write more RtS stories. You didn’t think the fun ended there, did you? ^_^ We’ve still got some tales to tell, and we hope you’ll stick around with us. Thanks for your continued patience and support! (And make sure to friend the new comm! *wink* It's the only place we'll be posting RtS stories from now on.)
Summary: Words are one of the most powerful binding forces. What will Watanuki be bound to?
Rating: UST. Except really RST, sort of. :D
A/N: *twiddles thumbs* What? … *blinks* What? I don’t have it, it’s down there!
Honey, understand-I won't make demands...
I won’t rest in stone, or alone-
I’m all ready to go…but you already know.
Carbon Leaf - “Life Less Ordinary”
* * *
When Watanuki walked through the gateway to her shop that night, Yuuko knew right away. She paused in her reading of Young Magazine, sighed deeply, then put the publication down and rose to her feet.
“Maru, Moro,” she said softly. “Will you prepare Watanuki’s bed for him?” Alerted by the serious tone, the constructs nodded anxiously and scampered away to do as she’d asked. Mokona’s long ears lay flat against its black body; it peered up at her.
“Will everything be all right?” it asked her somberly. “Can’t you do anything to help?”
Yuuko shook her head. “Only those two can make it all right,” she said as the front door opened and then closed, and when Watanuki appeared in doorway to the parlor holding an overnight bag, Yuuko frowned slightly.
“Did Doumeki-kun’s flight go well?” she asked. She had a very good idea of how the flight-and after-had gone. She hadn’t heard from Watanuki all day, and knowing her boy, that was not a good sign. If nothing else, Yuuko was very a very accomplished reader of signs.
Watanuki gave her a long look, then nodded mutely. He looked so very tired, she thought, and very deliberately blank.
She had questions, of course, and things to say. But they could wait. It wouldn’t do to add more to the boy’s already exhausted emotional state. The fact that he’d come here to stay the night, instead of staying at his apartment where he would be alone, spoke volumes for how affected he was by what had happened today.
“Maru and Moro are setting out the futon for you,” she said. “You know where your room is.”
He nodded again, turning to go.
“Watanuki.”
He stopped, his back to her, and waited.
She thought of a dozen things to tell him-it would be all right, he still had a chance, a choice.
“You’ll make breakfast in the morning, I assume,” she said instead.
Watanuki paused, nodded once more, then walked to his room without a word.
When he’d gone, Yuuko stood for a long time, staring into space, wondering.
* * *
Watanuki was just as quiet the next morning as he slowly mixed pancake batter in a bowl. Maru, Moro, and Mokona, sensing that his pensive mood hadn’t abated in the least, for once didn’t jump at him demanding to lick the spatula. In fact, they avoided the kitchen altogether. This suited Watanuki fine, as it left him plenty of time to brood over the breakfast preparations.
He was just setting the finished pancakes on a plate when Yuuko swept into the kitchen and leaned against the doorway.
“Watanuki,” she said soberly, gently. “Enough.”
He knew better than to think she was talking about the pancakes.
“Did you know?” he asked her without looking up from the plate. “What Doumeki wanted to-what would happen yesterday?” He fiddled with the rim for a moment, tracing it absently with his fingers. “Is that why you sent me to the airport?” He finally chanced a glance at her.
There was amusement, and just a trace of exasperation, on her face, but not a hint of surprise. “I told him,” she murmured ruefully with a shake of her head, “that you don’t adapt as quickly as he does to sudden changes of ground.” With a light laugh, she shook her head. “And he went ahead on his own anyway, telling you his feelings before he could lose his courage.” She exhaled. “But he is Doumeki-kun, after all. Making his own choices and his own destiny is what he does best.”
At the easy admission, Watanuki swallowed hard and stared intently at the pancakes.
Yuuko watched him, the amusement fading just slightly. “Yes, I knew, Watanuki,” she said softly. And I believe, on some level, you knew as well.” When his eyes flew to hers in immediate denial, she continued in a sterner tone, “Why else would you have gone to the airport yesterday to meet Doumeki-kun’s plane?”
“You told me to go!” Watanuki protested, showing, for the first time since the evening before, a spark of his usual passion. “You said it was an errand, and I-”
“Chose to go,” Yuuko finished for him, her eyes glittering. “Don’t you understand by now, Watanuki, that more than what others tell you to do, it is your own choices that matter the most?”
Struggling against her implacable logic-and the truth in it-Watanuki let his shoulders slump in defeat. “So what am I supposed to do now?” he asked wearily. “It’s all-it’s all strange now. It’s all wrong.” He frowned down at the plate of pancakes. “It’s all wrong,” he repeated, more quietly.
“But it’s not too late to make it right again.” Yuuko, her eyes thoughtful, stood up straight and reached into one voluminous sleeve. She extracted from it an object that, over the last three weeks, had become very familiar to Watanuki: a letter enclosed in an envelope.
His heart pounded as he stared at the letter. “Is that-” He couldn’t finish the sentence, not sure whether it was dread or anticipation that flooded him.
“I received this letter yesterday,” she said, overriding him, “with the request that I only give it to you in case of emergencies.” Her tone lightened just a little. “I think this situation qualifies in that category, don’t you?”
Watanuki gulped, then nodded cautiously.
“Watanuki,” said Yuuko, her voice now very serious, “you now have another choice to make, regarding Doumeki-kun.”
The words rang in his head, and Watanuki remembered the other time she’d said them to him-when Doumeki had shot and exorcised the spirit woman. That time, Doumeki had made a choice, despite what potential damage it could have done to his relationship with Watanuki, and Watanuki had had to decide whether to accept or reject Doumeki’s choice. Now-it was the same thing all over again, except instead of the spirit woman, Doumeki had destroyed the carefully crafted wall of ignorance and antagonism Watanuki had placed between them.
I suppose I should have seen it coming, he thought now, staring at the letter as if it would explode any second now. From that day on, I should have expected this to happen. He’s always…chosen me, hasn’t he?
“You knew,” he heard himself saying dazedly. “Even then, you knew, didn’t you? What would happen.”
Yuuko’s lips curved just the smallest bit. She put the letter on the counter beside her and turned to leave the kitchen. Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder and said quietly, “What have I been telling you about hitsuzen, you silly boy?”
And then she was gone.
Watanuki blinked after she’d left, his eyes on the letter lying on the counter. He almost didn’t want to know what it said-or who it was from-but something in him made him walk slowly to the counter to pick up the letter. It said Kimihiro Watanuki on the front in neat English. His eyebrows drew together as that same something inside him alternately clenched and relaxed.
It wasn’t from Doumeki. It was from his cousin Vera.
He opened it curiously, wondering how Vera could have gotten the letter to Yuuko once Doumeki had left and presumably ended the agreement between himself and Yuuko to send and receive the letters. But the words on the page distracted him from that line of thought.
Dear Watanuki-kun,
Okay, my cousin-you're probably not going to believe me-is a complete mess right now. I just saw him off about an hour ago, and it was not pretty. I mean, he is Shizuka, so he's not that readable, but it was enough. I think I know what he's worried about.
Watanuki felt his cheeks go red. Had everyone known about Doumeki’s feelings except Watanuki?
He thought very suddenly of Himawari’s repeated declarations of “You two are so close!”-Yuuko’s enigmatic smiles and sly comments-Vera’s cheerful assumptions and hints. He closed his eyes briefly and stifled a groan of horrified embarrassment.
The letter continued,
He probably could have been a little less reckless about it, but hey, that's him. Just...please, give him a chance. Think about what he says. You seem like a really nice guy and all, but I don't know what you'll do by accident... Just please don't break his heart. That's all I ask. Think about it. Really think about it.
Vera
Watanuki’s heart was thudding again as he finished the letter. He noticed a short line of postscript at the bottom of the page and read that too.
He blinked, then read the postscript again. For a long moment, he could only stare at the words.
When he looked up again, he was smiling.
* * *
Doumeki was frowning.
More specifically, he was scowling.
This was an uncharacteristically negative expression for him. Also, it was a bit ridiculous, since he was only sweeping the temple grounds, and really had nothing in particular to scowl at, so he scowled at the ground as he swept.
To be truthful, he wasn’t really sweeping anymore either; he’d been standing on the same area of the walkway for five minutes scratching morosely at the leaf-free pavement with the broom, lost in sullen contemplation.
A combination of jet-lag and utter despair had sent him to bed right after he’d gotten home. He’d forced his mind to empty itself of all thought-tried to do the same with his emotions, but couldn’t quite manage it-and sank into blissful unconsciousness in short order. He hadn’t awoken until about an hour ago, and over breakfast it had become painfully obvious that unless he had something to do, he’d be in a horrible mood the rest of the day. This had led to him volunteering to sweep the temple; ignoring his parents’ objections that he give himself a day off to rest, he had retreated to the relative quiet of the grounds.
The sound of footsteps-quick, determined, and so painfully familiar-had his head jerking up. The scowl melted into a wide-eyed gape of disbelief as he locked eyes with Watanuki, who was marching up the walkway like he was the front line of the cavalry, armed with an empty cloth grocery bag and a scowl of his own.
Genghis Khan would have turned tail and fled at the sight, Doumeki thought, dismay and joy warring so fiercely within him that he felt faintly nauseous.
Watanuki came to a halt exactly three feet away from Doumeki and planted his hands on his hips, the empty bag swaying with the motion, his eyes glinting dangerously.
“What,” he said very concisely, “do you think you are doing?”
Taken aback and completely unprepared, Doumeki stared at him and said the first thing that sprang to mind.
“Sweeping?”
This earned him a glare. “Don’t get cute with me,” Watanuki snapped, mouth twisting in annoyance. “Why aren’t you already helping me shop for the food I’ll be making for your consumption, you idiot?”
Doumeki looked at him blankly, the broom in his loosened grip tilted at an angle. He’d completely forgotten about the picnic. Did he just call me cute?
Watanuki must have sensed he’d forgotten, from the silence he got as a reply. He huffed, “You thought you could get out of helping, didn’t you?”
“With the picnic?” Doumeki clarified, trying to get his thoughts in order and fighting down a rising tide of hope. A moment ago, Watanuki was the absolute last person he’d wanted to see. Now, he had the odd feeling that he’d probably go crazy if Watanuki tried to leave without him.
“Of course with the picnic, moron!” Watanuki glowered at him. “What else would I be talking about?”
Doumeki blinked. “I…don’t know?” he ventured, still testing the waters.
“That’s because there isn’t anything else,” Watanuki informed him tartly. “I told you that you were going to be helping me shop for and prepare the food. Just because you seem to have developed acute amnesia doesn’t excuse you. I won’t let Himawari-chan’s special day be ruined by your stupidity and your attempt to wriggle out of your share of the work!”
There was a small space of time in which Doumeki processed both content and context.
“All right,” he said after a moment. Part of him thought, Is this a good idea, being together with him after…yesterday? But the rest of him thought that if Watanuki wasn’t going to mention it, then neither would he. It hurt a little that Watanuki would just ignore his confession as if it had never happened, but Doumeki preferred that to having Watanuki ignore him.
Watanuki nodded sharply. “I don’t want to hear any inane comments or complaints from you today,” he warned Doumeki. “I don’t have the patience to deal with them. I’ll simply refuse to feed you. Got that?”
Amused despite the torrent of emotion inside him, Doumeki nodded.
Watanuki spun on his heel so that he wasn’t looking at Doumeki. “Well then, let’s go,” he said impatiently. And then, more quietly, still without looking at him: “…Shizuka.”
Doumeki, in the process of laying the broom aside, stared at Watanuki’s back, frozen. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly-and if, by some miracle, he had, he wasn’t certain if it was a peace offering, a truce, or something else entirely.
A long moment passed while he stood staring at Watanuki.
“All right,” he said again finally. “Kimihiro.”
The back of Watanuki’s neck turned the faintest shade of red. He started for the temple gates with the stride of a man going to war, very carefully not meeting Doumeki’s eyes. Doumeki trailed behind him, silent, watchful, and completely bewildered.
* * *
“Put that down, idiot,” Watanuki ordered irritably, “it’s the wrong brand. Don’t touch anything until I tell you to go get it.” He busied himself with a list and several boxes, checking prices, weight, and nutrition information.
Doumeki replaced the item on the shelf and shrugged apologetically at the increasingly flustered store assistant. With an exasperated headshake, the young man left them to shop on their own, his offers of assistance having been politely but firmly rejected by Watanuki.
“I wonder if Himawari-chan would like this flavor,” Watanuki was now murmuring to himself, apparently thinking aloud.
Doumeki glanced at the box in question. He tilted his head. “I like it,” he offered after a moment.
Watanuki looked up at him in annoyance. “I thought I said no inane commentary from you,” he said crisply, putting the box in the cart, replacing the others on the shelf, and continuing down the aisle, still scolding. “That includes your unwarranted opinion, just so you know.”
Doumeki ambled along behind him, hands now in his pockets, where they were much less likely to get him in trouble with Watanuki. “Whatever you say,” he said, keeping a straight face.
He got a narrow glance from Watanuki anyway. “And sarcasm.” Watanuki shoved the shopping list at him, and purely out of reflex, Doumeki pulled a hand from his pocket and took it. “Go get the last three things on the list. Do not drop, break, or taste them. Do not lose this list. Do not take longer than ten minutes. Do not make me come looking for you.” He made an impatient shooing motion. “Go on!” He turned away, already searching for something else. Apparently, despite his order for Doumeki to not lose the list, he’d already memorized the items on it.
All three hundred of them, thought Doumeki with a glance at the paper, shaking his head in admiration. And Watanuki complained about chemistry homework and trigonometric equations…
He pocketed the list and nodded at Watanuki. “As you wish,” he said, perfectly blandly, as he sauntered away.
“I heard that!” Watanuki called after him, but there was no answer. That smart-ass. He would pick now to develop a sense of humor.
As soon as Doumeki was out of sight, Watanuki sped up the aisle and down another with the furiously fast pace of a demon escaping hell, long experience with these particular ingredients leading him to them without even a moment’s thought. It was something Doumeki requested annoyingly often, after all, being one of his favorite foods. Watanuki knew that Doumeki hadn’t asked for it this time, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t request it later. It was better to be prepared, when it came to Doumeki.
He thought of yesterday’s fiasco and mentally cringed.
Definitely better to be prepared.
He tossed the ingredients into the cart, hiding them under a few other items, but on the last item he got distracted by a bargain price. While he was still wavering over whether to accept the bargain or just go with the one he usually got, Doumeki appeared next to the cart, list and items in hand. Watanuki scrambled to act casual, putting the bargain item into the cart and holding out a hand for the list, hoping Doumeki wouldn’t notice just what he was shopping for.
That was barely five minutes, the jerk, he thought sulkily. I should have known he’d be quicker when it came to food.
Doumeki handed him the paper and put his successfully retrieved items into the cart before looking down at the one Watanuki had just put into it. “Is that for-”
“DID YOU FIND WHAT I TOLD YOU TO FIND GOOD SHUT UP LET’S GO,” said Watanuki, and continued down the aisle.
* * *
Watanuki remained generally speechless until they reached his apartment and were about to cross the threshold of that most sacred of sanctums-his kitchen.
"I'll only say this once," he warned in his most threatening tone. "Woe betide you if you forget. Do not touch anything in this kitchen without my express permission or I will disembowel you with it." He stepped inside and began unloading groceries in a similarly threatening manner. A mere glance at his very threatening appearance ought to have sent any mere mortal into a fit of terror-predictably, Doumeki only shrugged.
"Fair enough," he replied.
He's agreeing to do something I told him to. Will wonders never cease? But then again, maybe it was just in hopes that Watanuki would-
Well, it wasn't as if-
He couldn't be expecting-
Maddened by the uncomfortable turn his thoughts had taken, Watanuki added, "Unless I tell you to get something for me. In which case you will do exactly as I tell you. Improvisation will only earn you misery."
Doumeki didn't reply, which really could have meant anything, but Watanuki was determined to consider it a positive sign. Well, it's not like he wasn't warned of his imminent fate, should he choose to disobey the great Watanuki-sama. Satisfied, Watanuki returned to the more productive activity of unloading groceries and beginning preparations. He worked quickly, multitasked with skills honed from years of cooking augmented by recent catering to Doumeki's questionable and troublesome tastes, driven now by a desire to get out of here to a less awkward place.
Every so often he would snap a request-"That spoon over there, bring it here" or "Turn off the stove!"-and Doumeki would miraculously comply. It was almost frightening, actually, how willing to help Doumeki had suddenly become. Maybe there were upsides to this-ah-delicate situation.
Then again, Watanuki thought as his face reddened and he hid in a cloud of steam, they were hardly worth the general trouble of it all. Just in case he'd been found out anyway, he directed Doumeki to go for another measuring cup from a drawer on the other side of the kitchen. After a few moments of studiously concentrating on cooking, the fluster faded.
A few minutes later he realized that Doumeki had never delivered the requested instrument, and turned around to demand it. He stopped dead, however, upon catching sight of the other boy apparently captivated by a horribly familiar piece of paper, required utensil dangling from one hand. With a sinking feeling, Watanuki remembered where he'd stashed the letters he hadn't even considered recycling.
"I told you," he said in a voice that teetered between whisper and angry hiss, "not to touch anything I didn't ask for." Heart pounding wildly-angrily, he told himself-he took a few steps away from his cooking.
Doumeki didn't even have the good grace to look chagrined. "You kept them," he said, slowly turning to meet Watanuki's eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Watanuki grabbed the last strands of his composure and pulled himself together. "Why can't you ever follow the simplest instructions? Or at least just-leave things alone!" The sound of bubbling pulled him back to the stove, where a neglected pot was in danger of overflowing. Dealing with damage control, he added, "Of course I-of course I kept them, stupid. I had to make sure you were learning the proper way to write a letter, didn't I?"
"Did I?"
Watanuki glanced back and then quickly forward, unnerved by the sincerity in Doumeki's face. "As - as best as could be expected from you, I suppose." Which wasn't really fair, and not entirely accurate either. Especially toward the end, the letters had been getting rather in-depth. Certainly they said more than Doumeki ever said in words.
Though he was getting his message across loud and clear right now without saying anything…
"I mean, you're not exactly amazing with words, so I guess that any time you actually manage to string a sentence together I should pay attention," Watanuki amended, turning the heat off from underneath one of the pans.
"You're much better at talking," Doumeki agreed. It might have been a jibe, but Watanuki was not sure and so for the first time in history gave him the benefit of the doubt.
He snorted instead, and replied, "Well, we can't all be the stoic, silent type, can we?" Emptying the contents of another pan into a bowl, he added, "You'll need to taste one of these when they're cool, to tell me if they're cooked all the way."
There was a span of silence (at least, in regards to conversation) as the dumplings cooled and Watanuki busied himself with everything else, trying to convince himself that there was nothing awkward at all about the moment. Even if there was, though, it was obviously all Doumeki's fault for reading things he had no right to (even if he had written them originally). But that was beside the point, since there wasn't anything awkward about this at all, and…
Oh, hell, Watanuki thought, that's the biggest lie I've ever told myself.
Sometime over the summer he and Doumeki had managed to become proper friends. On paper, it had all been so much easier, and then suddenly they were back and things were different and it was harder to remember how they'd managed to have conversations before. And then everything had been cut short, and for once it really was Doumeki's fault-well, mostly. But somehow Watanuki couldn't fault him for it. It wasn't fair. And it especially wasn't fair that it now fell to him to fix everything. It wasn't as if he even liked the guy-except that wasn't entirely the case, now, was it?
Well, if he wanted to make things right-just for his peace of mind, of course-he'd have to start somewhere.
"…Hey," he said presently, very carefully focusing on the pot in front of him.
"Yeah?" Doumeki's voice was just as seemingly-disinterested as ever.
Watanuki took a deep breath to prepare for what he was about to do. "Do you really-”
"Yes," Doumeki cut in, and color flooded to Watanuki's face. He'd been seen clear through, but he lost his nerve and furiously backtracked.
"I-I wasn't finished talking! I meant-I meant-” Flailing anxiously to find his balance again, Watanuki grabbed a plate and viciously placed the contents of another pot on it. "Do you really want me to make inarizushi, because-because I don't want to waste the ingredients, and, and…" He trailed off, not sure where to go next, aware that his face was bright red and he was utterly failing at redirection. That had been one huge mistake.
But Doumeki, upon a quick glance, seemed to be allowing it. "Yes," he repeated. "I do."
Infinitely grateful that he'd escaped intact, Watanuki gathered the ingredients on another plate, making a bit more noise than was necessary in his relief. "O-okay, then. But you'd better not complain to me later. If-if you end up not liking them."
Doumeki said something too quietly to be properly understood, but it sounded like "I always like them."
Going with it, Watanuki replied, "Well you'd better. Because if you change your mind later, you'll-you'll still have to eat them!" A more potent threat had never been uttered.
"Gladly," was all Doumeki said. But then again, such short replies were what he did best.
Most of the food was ready by now, so Watanuki busied himself in packing it away in the bentou boxes so that he didn't have to look Doumeki in the eye. He wasn't entirely sure if it had just been inarizushi he had been talking about, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Better to think about easy, safe things, like the lining up of rolls in a compartment, the careful organization of dumplings to fit as many in as possible…
…The sound of Doumeki chewing.
Looking up, Watanuki spotted the last of a piece of inarizushi disappear into Doumeki's mouth. "DON'T EAT ALL OF THOSE, YOU GLUTTON!" he all but shrieked, perhaps reacting a bit more strongly than was necessary. "SAVE SOME FOR HIMAWARI-CHAN!" He waved his arms violently up and down, expertly avoiding the careful setup around him.
"I didn't," Doumeki pointed out.
Watanuki leveled his best glare at the food-snatcher. "Augh, why must you always make things so much more complicated than they need-”
The events of the past two days flashed through his head like his life sometimes did in a particularly precarious situation, and suddenly he didn’t have it in him to finish that sentence. And there he was, midway through it, mouth gaping like a fish, completely at a loss for words.
Doumeki's expression remained the same, as usual. "Hm?"
Courage still failing him, Watanuki turned away again, resuming his food-packing at a more sedate pace. "Nothing," he replied, very carefully not sighing. "Don't-don't eat them all."
There was a long pause, in which Watanuki finished his cooking and placed everything into the boxes. As he began to clean up, he snuck a glance over his shoulder at Doumeki. He was eating another piece of inarizushi as if he had no qualms at all about being caught-or, perhaps more accurately, there was nothing that could be done to him that would actually cause him distress.
Watanuki sighed, and wished he could say the same.
* * *
“I don’t see Kunogi,” said Doumeki, following docilely after Watanuki. He had the enormous picnic basket-although it had transcended ‘basket’ and bordered on ‘barrel’-in one hand. It was really heavy, what with Watanuki cramming it full of the equivalent of an entire month’s worth of food. He switched it to his other hand casually.
“Be careful with that!” was the reply. Easy for you to say, Doumeki thought, nonplussed. Watanuki was only carrying the bag with the drinks in it. “And they-she said th-she’d be at the tree at the bottom of this hill.”
“They?” Doumeki asked, carefully shifting the basket again when Watanuki wasn’t looking.
“Shut up and concentrate on not tripping over your own feet.”
They crested the hill and looked down to where Himawari sat on a large red-and-white-checkered blanket-accompanied by Yuuko and Mokona, who were already into a bottle (or three) of something that was probably alcoholic.
“Ah,” said Doumeki. “Them.”
Watanuki sighed irritatedly. “When Yuuko-san found out about the pa-picnic, she insisted that she come too, and of course that meat bun wouldn’t leave me alone until I said it could come as well.” He started slowly down the hill. “I’m surprised no one else invited themselves along,” he muttered. “I almost expect the Ame-Warashi to show up with her umbrella and start swinging.”
“Don’t tempt fate,” Doumeki said, following just behind him. Watanuki shot him a glance, but said nothing.
As they approached the small group, Yuuko lifted a cup into the air. “Ah, they’re here now, so everyone-”
As one, Himawari, Yuuko, and Mokona cried, “Welcome home, Doumeki-kun!”
Doumeki blinked.
Watanuki looked away, arms folded over his chest.
Doumeki put down the basket with extreme care, straightened, and looked from each grinning face to the next, still blinking.
“I can see the surprise worked!” Yuuko trilled, satisfaction in her voice. “Sit down, Doumeki-kun, have a rest-you’ve been up and about all morning, haven’t you?”
“So have I,” said Watanuki pointedly, setting down his bag of drinks. “I don’t hear you asking me to sit down and rest.”
Yuuko ignored him and poured Doumeki a drink as the archer seated himself. He raised his cup to hers as she exclaimed, “Cheers, Doumeki-kun!” As he sipped, his eyes found Himawari’s.
She giggled at him. “It’s so good to have you back, Doumeki-kun!”
He bowed slightly toward her. “Thanks.”
Mokona bounced over. “Yo, Doumeki-kun,” it greeted him, its tiny eyes already moving past him to the basket. “So what are we eating?” It jumped at the basket and did its best to burrow inside.
“Hey, meat bun, don’t do that,” said Watanuki, crouching down to lift Mokona bodily out of the basket and set it aside. “Wait until all the food is set out.”
“Here, come sit with me, Mokona-chan,” said Himawari. As it agreeably launched itself into her lap, she said to Doumeki conversationally, “You know, all of this was Watanuki-kun’s doing.”
Watanuki almost dropped the container he was taking out the basket. “I-but-that’s-”
Doumeki lifted an eyebrow at him. “Is that so.” It wasn’t so much a question of Is this true? as it was a question of Why?
Watanuki’s cheeks were red again. “I-It was Himawari-chan’s idea,” he protested. “I just went along with it because it’s what she wanted! A-and you’d better be grateful that she thought of you!” he finished weakly, springing to his feet as his arms waved wildly. “Because if it weren’t for Himawari-chan, I wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble!”
“You don’t need to be modest, Watanuki-kun,” said Himawari-chan in a very innocent voice. Doumeki noted with some amusement the twinkle in her eyes. “I only suggested that it would be nice to have a party for Doumeki. It was really you who did all the planning and the work, and you even kept it a secret from Doumeki, having him help you with the food like you did.” She turned to Doumeki. “You thought it was just a picnic instead of a party, didn’t you?”
“I had no idea,” admitted Doumeki.
Himawari clapped her hands. “Watanuki-kun knows you so well, to be able to surprise you like this!”
As if their thoughts mirrored one another’s, Watanuki looked down at Doumeki just as Doumeki glanced up at him. The air between them suddenly hummed with tension.
“He surprised me, all right,” said Doumeki blandly. “I didn’t expect it to happen like this at all.”
Watanuki’s eyes flickered with some indecipherable emotion. “You’re not the only one who was surprised by how things turned out,” he told the archer sharply.
“At least you knew what you would say,” Doumeki returned evenly, his tone still perfectly inscrutable. His eyes, though, flashed very subtly up at Watanuki. “Or what to do, or how to act. You weren’t worried about messing up.”
Watanuki blinked. His brows knitted together. “You didn’t-”
“I had,” said Doumeki, very flatly, “no idea.” The emphasis was light, but it was there.
Watanuki was silent, but now he looked at Doumeki with something akin to puzzlement, and even dawning realization. Slightly embarrassed at his own bitterness, Doumeki looked away. Himawari looked back and forth between them, aware of the tension but not sure of its cause. She clasped her hands together, worried but too polite to ask what the matter was.
“Now that you mention it,” said Yuuko lazily, her eyes nonetheless alert and aware. “Our Watanuki certainly did have a plan for today.”
Mildly annoyed by the unexpected (and unwanted) reminder of his fumbling of his own plan yesterday, Doumeki nevertheless sipped calmly. “Did he.”
“Oh yes.” Yuuko’s lips curved into a small smile that had an air of triumph about it. “He planned very extensively. It seemed vital to him that everything go exactly right.”
“Yuuko-san!” wailed Watanuki. “Stop saying embarrassing things that aren’t true!”
“Watanuki-spelled-April-first made lists,” confided Mokona from where it lounged across Himawari’s knees. “Lists and lists of Doumeki-kun’s favorite foods!”
“When he wasn’t writing letters,” put in Yuuko wickedly, her eyes dancing.
Watanuki made an inarticulate noise, sounding like a small animal that had been stepped on. “That’s-”
“Really,” said Doumeki, looking at Watanuki again. His eyes were calmer now, too; the faint hint of anger that had tinted them before was gone now.
Watanuki stuck out his chin. “I deny everything,” he declared.
“As usual,” murmured Yuuko into her drink. Himawari, the only one sitting close enough to have heard her, stifled her giggles.
Doumeki looked at the picnic basket pointedly. “Do you need a plan to set up the food?” he said to Watanuki, who glared down at him.
“Shut up, Shizuka,” he said.
Doumeki looked at him, startled. He’d been almost certain that he’d never hear his name cross Watanuki’s lips again. Watanuki looked back at him. His mouth was set in a frown, but something in his eyes loosened the remains of the nervousness nudging Doumeki’s heart. He shrugged, feeling relief mixed with longing spread throughout his chest.
“Whatever you say, Kimihiro.”
While Watanuki set out dishes and slapped away Doumeki’s ‘helping’ hands, with Mokona bouncing around and generally getting in the way, Yuuko and Himawari studied the boys with knowing smiles.
“They’re even better friends than before,” murmured Himawari, her eyes fond as she watched Doumeki lift up a plate of ohagi and Watanuki snatch it away from him.
Yuuko glanced at her. “‘Friends?’” she repeated in a low voice, amused.
“Well. That too,” said Himawari.
They laughed softly together.
Watanuki finally lost his patience with Mokona, who was now helping Doumeki ‘help’ Watanuki. “Stop sneaking food!” he shouted at them both. “You have to wait until all the food is ready, and besides,” he added primly, looking over the rim of his glasses at them. “Ladies first!”
“Awww,” cooed Yuuko in delight. “Watanuki is such a gentleman.”
He shot her a flat look. “I said ladies first, Yuuko-san,” he told her. “Which means Himawari-chan goes before you.”
Yuuko pouted. “What are you implying, Watanuki-kun?” she said in a dangerously sweet voice. He only rolled his eyes at her and smiled at Himawari, who beamed back at him brightly.
“Instead of that, why don’t we let Doumeki-kun go first?” she suggested. “Since he’s the guest of honor, after all.”
“What honor?” mumbled Watanuki, shooting a look at Doumeki. “I would think you’d have had enough back at my apartment,” he said pointedly.
A silence fell over their group. Yuuko and Mokona exchanged twin smirks.
“Oh, really?” said Yuuko in a mischievous tone. Watanuki blinked at her, lost.
“What really?” he asked.
“Is that so,” said Mokona, grinning deviously.
“No,” said Doumeki, helping himself to the food. Watanuki turned to him in astonished annoyance.
“What do you mean, no?” he demanded. “You shouldn’t even be hungry with all you ate at my apartment! You insatiable, ungrateful glutton, Shizuka! And did you even say thanks for the food? You mannerless swine-!”
Himawari dissolved into helpless giggles as Watanuki railed at the imperturbable Doumeki, who ate with one finger stuffed in the ear nearest to the source of the noise.
Yuuko laughed as well, swirling her drink in the cup. “Watanuki-kun,” she said, smiling, “don’t ever change, hmm?”
Watanuki looked at her suspiciously, distracted from his tirade. “What are you talking about, Yuuko-san?”
Mokona skipped over to pluck a piece of sushi from Doumeki’s plate. “Watanuki-kun is happy the way things are now, right?” it said with its mouth full.
Blinking down at it, Watanuki said, “Well…” Looking up, his eyes caught Doumeki’s again. Doumeki looked back at him, his face expressionless as it ever was. They held one another’s gaze for a long, long moment.
“Yes,” said Watanuki finally.
Mokona nodded as if it had already known the answer. Doumeki lifted an eyebrow, silently asking for clarification.
“But Yuuko-san,” went on Watanuki thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving Doumeki’s, “Sometimes…sometimes change is necessary, you know?” His gaze, blue-and-gold, held secrets and shadows and all the truths Doumeki had ever known. “Sometimes it’s better to change. I can’t always be the same person, because maybe…”
He smiled, hesitantly, sweetly, so very shyly, at Doumeki.
“Maybe I’ll be happier because of the change.”
Yuuko hummed contentedly. “You may have a point, Watanuki-kun,” she murmured.
Doumeki, holding Watanuki’s eyes, smiled ever so slowly back.
Watanuki thought of the photos Vera had sent him, and of the postscript she’d written to the letter he’d read just that morning.
P.S. You asked me why Shizuka was smiling in those pictures. Don’t you know?
“You should write to your cousin,” he said quietly as Yuuko, Himawari, and Mokona began to fill plates of food for themselves, chatting lightly between the three of them.
Doumeki blinked. “In general, or for a specific reason?”
Watanuki tilted his head to one side, oddly flustered. “Well, in general too, but-you should let her know that-that-”
“That things worked out all right?” finished Doumeki. He felt…lighter. Happier than he’d been since he’d gotten off the plane yesterday.
Watanuki thought about it and realized it was-surprisingly enough-exactly the right thing to say. “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Tell her we’ll keep in touch.”
“We?” repeated Doumeki softly, a question in his eyes.
Watanuki flushed. “F-forget it!” he said hastily. “Never mind, I’ll write to her! The way you write, I don’t trust you to properly relay any messages! The way you write letters is atrocious!”
Doumeki shrugged philosophically. “Worked for us, didn’t it?”
Watanuki shot him a quelling look and did not answer, turning to get his own food so that Doumeki wouldn’t see his face, and the small smile on his lips.
…Don’t you know? He was smiling for you. -VH
Yeah. It worked for them.
* * *
* * *
A/N: Yes, dear friends, that is the end of “Return to Sender.”
However. It is not the end of the “Return to Sender” universe. :DDD If you follow this link, you will discover that Pen-chan and I have created a community just for this fic universe. Because yes, we are going to write more RtS stories. You didn’t think the fun ended there, did you? ^_^ We’ve still got some tales to tell, and we hope you’ll stick around with us. Thanks for your continued patience and support! (And make sure to friend the new comm! *wink* It's the only place we'll be posting RtS stories from now on.)