[FIC] Lunch Time With Watanuki
Title: Lunch Time with Watanuki Kimihiro
Rating: G
Author's Notes: I wrote this for hydr0phobia a long, long time ago. I merely resurrected it. I shall de-lurk from this fandom soon! xD
For Doumeki Shizuka, Lunch Time with Watanuki Kimihiro was a sacred ritual he practiced every school day from twelve to one in the afternoon.
Doumeki never looked forward to anything; he merely allowed things to happen. Nothing seemed to surprise him, either. However, Lunch Time was an exception. Doumeki could not help but frown at the wall clock during class hours, impatiently waiting for the lunch bell to ring. He would hide his excitement, though. Of course. Doumeki would spend a few minutes trying to stop his mouth from curving upward in anticipation-only smirks suited him, and he did not want to scare his classmates off with a goofy grin plastered on his face. When Doumeki felt he was ready, he would casually amble towards their picnic spot, assuming a bored expression.
Watanuki would shout at him for making him wait and for being an annoying prick--that was to be expected. Doumeki would smirk at him (he perfected his trademark smirk with years of intensive training, and it never failed to make Watanuki’s blood boil). After thirty minutes of excessive shouting, cursing, and violence, both men would finally settle down and eat their lunch.
Doumeki would open his boxed lunch carefully and stare. He often stared at his food first before digging in. A smile would desperately struggle to appear, but then Doumeki would fight it. Not yet, not yet.
Every school day promised delicious lunch and a fresh barrage of insults.
Watanuki prepared smoked salmon and cucumber sushi rolls this time. He obviously worked hard to make his bento even if he claimed he hated the other man’s guts, so Doumeki ate them slowly, relishing the unique taste of sweet rice wine and salmon. And because Lunch Time was sacred, he silently worshipped the way Watanuki mixed the vinegar and rice perfectly-he could tell by just tasting them. Random girls dared to interrupt Doumeki’s holy ritual of eating lunch-they just stood there holding boxed lunches with trembling fingers-but he threw uninterested looks at them and shrugged when they scampered away. Girls. Sacrilege.
When Lunch Time with Watanuki was over, Doumeki expressed his appreciation by requesting for more sushi next time, preferably Kappa-maki; as expected, the shorter boy whined and grumbled and proclaimed how difficult it was for him to make his bento because he had to wake up really early, dammit, since making cucumber rolls takes almost an hour, you shithead and so on and so forth. After patiently listening to his angry litany, Doumeki abruptly left for his next class, which seemed dull in comparison.
Doumeki always asked for more. He constantly wished Lunch Time lasted ‘til sunset. For once, there was something to look forward to.
Things are different these days. They’re older, wiser, and share a lot of things like drawers, coffee mugs, coats, and blankets. Watanuki is a bit subdued now, and spends most of his time pampering the flowers he grows on their little garden. Doumeki still speaks in riddles with a deep voice, but now his monosyllables become phrases, sentences, paragraphs, even.
Lunch Time with Watanuki remains sacred, of course. Breakfast, more so-Watanuki makes the best coffee. Dinnertime is another holy ceremony, but this time Doumeki eats quickly; Watanuki is upstairs, on their bed, and he absolutely hates waiting.
Rating: G
Author's Notes: I wrote this for hydr0phobia a long, long time ago. I merely resurrected it. I shall de-lurk from this fandom soon! xD
For Doumeki Shizuka, Lunch Time with Watanuki Kimihiro was a sacred ritual he practiced every school day from twelve to one in the afternoon.
Doumeki never looked forward to anything; he merely allowed things to happen. Nothing seemed to surprise him, either. However, Lunch Time was an exception. Doumeki could not help but frown at the wall clock during class hours, impatiently waiting for the lunch bell to ring. He would hide his excitement, though. Of course. Doumeki would spend a few minutes trying to stop his mouth from curving upward in anticipation-only smirks suited him, and he did not want to scare his classmates off with a goofy grin plastered on his face. When Doumeki felt he was ready, he would casually amble towards their picnic spot, assuming a bored expression.
Watanuki would shout at him for making him wait and for being an annoying prick--that was to be expected. Doumeki would smirk at him (he perfected his trademark smirk with years of intensive training, and it never failed to make Watanuki’s blood boil). After thirty minutes of excessive shouting, cursing, and violence, both men would finally settle down and eat their lunch.
Doumeki would open his boxed lunch carefully and stare. He often stared at his food first before digging in. A smile would desperately struggle to appear, but then Doumeki would fight it. Not yet, not yet.
Every school day promised delicious lunch and a fresh barrage of insults.
Watanuki prepared smoked salmon and cucumber sushi rolls this time. He obviously worked hard to make his bento even if he claimed he hated the other man’s guts, so Doumeki ate them slowly, relishing the unique taste of sweet rice wine and salmon. And because Lunch Time was sacred, he silently worshipped the way Watanuki mixed the vinegar and rice perfectly-he could tell by just tasting them. Random girls dared to interrupt Doumeki’s holy ritual of eating lunch-they just stood there holding boxed lunches with trembling fingers-but he threw uninterested looks at them and shrugged when they scampered away. Girls. Sacrilege.
When Lunch Time with Watanuki was over, Doumeki expressed his appreciation by requesting for more sushi next time, preferably Kappa-maki; as expected, the shorter boy whined and grumbled and proclaimed how difficult it was for him to make his bento because he had to wake up really early, dammit, since making cucumber rolls takes almost an hour, you shithead and so on and so forth. After patiently listening to his angry litany, Doumeki abruptly left for his next class, which seemed dull in comparison.
Doumeki always asked for more. He constantly wished Lunch Time lasted ‘til sunset. For once, there was something to look forward to.
Things are different these days. They’re older, wiser, and share a lot of things like drawers, coffee mugs, coats, and blankets. Watanuki is a bit subdued now, and spends most of his time pampering the flowers he grows on their little garden. Doumeki still speaks in riddles with a deep voice, but now his monosyllables become phrases, sentences, paragraphs, even.
Lunch Time with Watanuki remains sacred, of course. Breakfast, more so-Watanuki makes the best coffee. Dinnertime is another holy ceremony, but this time Doumeki eats quickly; Watanuki is upstairs, on their bed, and he absolutely hates waiting.