Double Drabble: Solstice (YnM, Watari/Tatsumi)
AN: for lady_ganesh. Part of the Winter Collection.
Solstice
The days in Meifu do not grow short, but spin forever unchanged beyond the rhythms meant for the living. But late in the year Wakaba brings plates of dark spiced cookies. Tsuzuki wears a Santa hat for three days straight (he keeps trying to make Hisoka wear it, just once) and someone leaves a box of rich bittersweet cocoa in the break room, half hidden among cheap teas and coffees. (It takes nearly a week of Watari swearing up and down he had nothing to do with it before even Tsuzuki will take a chance.)
Someone hangs a ball of plastic mistletoe in the doorway to Tatsumi's office. It's a collective dare and only Watari is bold -- or foolish -- enough to go through with it, a friendly theatrical kiss with claps and whistles in the background.
But later the office is dim and quiet, and Watari is waiting. He kisses the corner of Tatsumi's mouth once, softly, and then pulls back with a question in his eyes.
The nights in Meifu do not grow longer and shorter with rhythms meant for the living, but sometimes as invisible seasons drift by, years falling around them silently as snow, they can change.
Solstice
The days in Meifu do not grow short, but spin forever unchanged beyond the rhythms meant for the living. But late in the year Wakaba brings plates of dark spiced cookies. Tsuzuki wears a Santa hat for three days straight (he keeps trying to make Hisoka wear it, just once) and someone leaves a box of rich bittersweet cocoa in the break room, half hidden among cheap teas and coffees. (It takes nearly a week of Watari swearing up and down he had nothing to do with it before even Tsuzuki will take a chance.)
Someone hangs a ball of plastic mistletoe in the doorway to Tatsumi's office. It's a collective dare and only Watari is bold -- or foolish -- enough to go through with it, a friendly theatrical kiss with claps and whistles in the background.
But later the office is dim and quiet, and Watari is waiting. He kisses the corner of Tatsumi's mouth once, softly, and then pulls back with a question in his eyes.
The nights in Meifu do not grow longer and shorter with rhythms meant for the living, but sometimes as invisible seasons drift by, years falling around them silently as snow, they can change.