Circe (still_ciircee) wrote in fic_on_demand,
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Fic: Getting a Hands-On Education [Xxxholic] For akayalovesyaoi

Written for akayalovesyaoi for the challenge found here.

Fandom: Xxxholic

Characters/Pairing: Doumeki, Watanuki-->Doumeki/Watanuki (aka ‘Donuts’)

Rating: R! The challenge was for them to talk dirty. *thunder* *lightening* Much Talk of Boy Smex Ahead. If you don’t like it, you shall not click the link! /god mode

Note to readers without much time: It's sort of long. Fourteen pages or so in MSWord.




Disclaimer: CLAMP would never do this with them.

Dedication: To akayalovesyaoi for the challenge and to chelle_sama, for laughing at my pathetic attempts to be porn-y.

Author's Note: Oh. My. God. I was ready to kill these two. This is the fic that I had to write while peeking out from between my fingers because Doumeki was all :x and when I said 'TALK, DAMN YOU!' Watanuki went XDDDDD 'I know what to say! Pick me! Ooo! Me! I can tell him what to say!' and then Doumeki went >.< and I went *facepalm* *headdesk*.

I hope it's enough of what you wanted, sweetie.


Getting a Hands-On Education

“Have you got your handkerchief?” Yuuko’s voice stopped him at the gate.

Watanuki checked his pockets. “No. Why?” he asked suspiciously.

Yuuko tipped him a secretive smile. “You never know when one might be needed,” she said turning away.

“I am not comforted,” he shouted at her retreating form, shaking a fist at her for added emphasis.

“Have a good day at school,” he voice drifted lazily back. “It’s fine if you’re late today.”

“THAT’S NOT COMFORTING EITHER!”

“Oi, shut up.”

He glared at Doumeki, who was leaning casually against the garden wall. “Don’t tell me to shut up! You didn’t even hear what she said to me, you jerk.”

“No, I didn’t. And neither did the rest of the neighborhood, so they probably think you’re crazy, shouting at an empty lot.”

“I probably am crazy,” Watanuki muttered, stomping past the other boy, who fell into step beside him. “It’s all thanks to haning around a moron like you AND THAT BLASTED YUUKO!” he yelled, hoping his voice would carry.

Doumeki, hands over his ears, rolled his eyes. “What’d she say to you, anyway?” he asked as he dropped his hands.

Watanuki glared at him long enough to judge actual interest before he turned his eyes resolutley forward. “She asked if I had my handkerchief.”

“That is upsetting,” Doumeki agreed dryly.

Watanuki threw his hands up. “I knew it! I knew you’d be a stupid jerk if I told you but you don’t know Yuuko. She’s…” he gestured expansively, trying to find the right words to frame his employer. “She’s sinister. She’s a schemer. She has no heart. She’s a soulless creature out for profit and gain. If she wants me to have my handkerchief with me today then it means something! It could mean anything. The world is ending. Or that I’ll have to cook French-style dishes. It could mean that—”

“She cares?”

“God,” Watanuki paled at the thought. “That’s even worse. What if it means she’ll never let me leave the shop? She keeps things. What if it means she’s going to try something horrible, like adopting me? What if it means—”

“We have Sex-Ed today.”

“THAT’S NOT FUNNY!”

He nearly bit his tongue in shock as Doumeki caught his chin in a firm grip and drew their faces together. Up close, he noted distantly, Doumeki’s eyes were more gold than amber. The thought made him scrabble at the other boy’s hold on him.

“No, but it’s true. See?” Doumeki asked and Watanuki could feel the last word drift warmly against his cheek as Doumeki used his hold to slowly turn his head away. “Instead of an open last period, we’ve got Sex-Ed.”

Watanuki blinked at the chalkboard and went momentarily limp as he relaxed. “When did we get to school?”

“Somewhere between the end of the world and your boss adopting you.”

“That would explain how I missed it,” he said musingly. He was halfway to returning Doumeki’s amused smile with one of his own when he realized that the only reason he could tell the other boy was smiling at all was because they were so close that he could feel errant strands of Doumeki’s dark hair tickling against his own forehead. “Hey!” he tensed, shoving himself back. “Cut it out! Quit doing weird stuff like that!” He straightened his uniform jacket and scowled at the stone-face that confronted him. “It’s all because of that handkerchief, you taking…liberties! Well, no more. I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day. I’m not having anything to do with you!”




“I thought you said you weren’t going to talk to me for the rest of the day?” Doumeki placidly interrupted his furious tirade some eight hours later.

“You molested me and then expected me to not say anything?” Watanuki gave him an outraged look.

Doumeki looked at him. “I tried to borrow a pencil.”

“You touched me!”

“I tapped you on the shoulder.”

“Oh, sure! Sure, that’s all it was. I’m on to you, Doumeki! A pencil, sure. Right. You were after my pencil.”

“Do you listen to yourself?”

“YOU—”

“Because,” Doumeki continued blithely, “what you’ve just told me is that you think I’m attracted to you and want to molest you and am covering it in guise of needing a writing utensil.”

“I—”

“Which I don’t mind, but if you don’t quiet down you’re going to get us another detention and I can’t miss archery club tomorrow.”

Watanuki glanced quickly in the direction of their teacher; he’d sent them across the hall to sit detention but the doors were open. “I didn’t get us detention, you did,” he hissed.

Doumeki smiled without changing expression. “So,” he said mildly, “you shrieking, leaping onto your desk, pointing and shouting ‘pervert’ had nothing to do with why we’re in here?”

Put that way, Watanuki could almost see his point. “It was during Sex-Ed,” he spluttered, whipping around to face the front of the empty classroom.

In the desk behind him, he could hear Doumeki let out a faint breath that was probably as close to a laugh as the stone-faced older boy ever came. “My mistake.” After a moment or two of silence, he spoke again. “I still need to borrow a pencil.”

Watanuki glared at the test on the desk in front of him and the battered yellow pencil beside it. “I only have one. That thing last week ate my pencil case.”

“Right. I remember. We’ll have to share.”

“I’m not sharing with you! It’s your fault we’re in here!” Watanuki turned the test over, scanning the questions. “And this is going to take forever.”

He could hear Doumeki’s paper rustle. “This? No, it won’t. It seems pretty basic.”

“Basic if you’ve been in class,” Watanuki groused.

“No, I meant basic as in you can use your own personal experiences to figure out the answers.”

Watanuki felt his heart make a weird skip in his chest. It would figure that somebody like Doumeki would have ‘personal experiences’. “What personal experiences? Some of us don’t have any.”

“I see. With another person you mean, right?”

“What an interesting time for your ‘guess-Watanuki’s-secrets’ radar to be malfunctioning,” Watanuki said sarcastically. “Ever,” he turned around, feeling goaded, to face that face. He hooked an arm around the back of his seat. “It’s the spirits and ghosts and stuff. I get so of focused on keeping them at bay and running away that when I get home I’m just tired.” Doumeki’s eyes were gleaming in a way that was mildly frightening. “And I don’t have much time to think, because of Yuuko and the jobs and my homework…and…and,” he was beginning to regret getting into this. Ever. “Some of us have to do our own cooking and laundry and cleaning! Some of us are too busy to be playboys! And another thing--”

Doumeki lifted one hand, interrupting. “Anything…ever…?” he asked. He sounded very, very careful.

Watanuki glared. “Now you get it,” he huffed. “And I’ve had dreams.”

“Dreams,” Doumeki repeated slowly.

“Yes,” he answered in the same slow voice, gnashing his teeth. “Dreams.”

“And…masturbation, right?”

Watanuki cast a mortified look in the teacher’s direction. “Shut up!” he hissed, jerking his head at the open classroom door. Their teacher had sent them into the room across the hall to serve detention but he was at his desk grading tests; Watanuki was thankful that the man was absorbed in the work before him.

“The word ‘masturbation’ embarrasses you? I could have said ‘touch yourself’ or ‘pleasure yourself’ or even ‘jerk off’.”

“Shut up! And where are you going?” he demanded as Doumeki crossed the room to the door.

Doumeki didn’t bother to look at him. “To shut the door so your yelping doesn’t get us another detention. I already told you that I can’t miss archery tomorrow. Besides, I need a pencil so I can take my test.”

“Wait!” Watanuki felt an idea bubble up. “No, go ahead and shut the door,” he said. He waited for Doumeki to close the door and return, stopping at the side of his desk. “I have an idea. A fair trade with a fair and proper price, as Yuuko would put it. I share my pencil with you, and you help me with the test.”

“I’m not sure I want to know how that works out to ‘fair’ in your mind,” Doumeki said, slouching against the desk. “You only have to share the pencil and I get to teach you about sex.”

Strangely, in a strange way that made Watanuki feel faintly lightheaded, it almost sounded as though Doumeki thought he was getting the better end of the deal. Which couldn’t be. “Well…eh…that’s the deal. Take it or leave it,” he added helpfully.

“Oh, I’ll take it,” Doumeki said, extending a hand towards him; confused, Watanuki placed his own into it. Doumeki’s smile, the faint one that Watanuki knew he shouldn’t really be able to see, flickered. “Pencil?” he asked dryly.

Watanuki jerked his hand back. “I thought you wanted to shake on it,” he muttered, slapping his pencil into Doumeki’s hand, not looking up from his test as the other boy reclaimed his seat. “Anyway,” he muttered, “anyway, um…number one. Name the two components of sexual activity? Well that’s easy, at least. A boy and a girl!” He reached back over his shoulder. “Pencil?” he asked archly when his hand remained empty.

“Not if that’s going to be your answer,” Doumeki replied. Watanuki could hear the sound of the pencil sweeping over paper as Doumeki wrote in his own answer.

“And just what’s wrong with it?” he asked, stung.

Behind him, Doumeki let out a soft sound, like a sigh. “Watanuki,” he said, “if I pushed you down to the floor right now and stuck my hand in your pants and touched you until you were a sweating, screaming, sticky mess we would be having sex.”

“Not at school!” Watanuki said the first coherent thought that made it past the roadblock image of himself on the floor under Doumeki Shizuka.

“Yes, at school,” Doumeki mimicked him.

“I mean,” Watanuki gestured agitatedly, “that I wouldn’t let you do that to me at school! We’d be caught and then we’d get expelled.”

“So, if we were in private?” Doumeki sounded honestly interested and Watanuki slapped a hand over his face.

“You are such a cretin, Doumeki. We’re not talking about that,” he muttered through his fingers. “It’s a thing beyond all human comprehension. And anyhow, if the answer isn’t a boy and a girl, it’s not going to be two boys, either.”

“Of course not. I never said it was; I was only pointing out the fact that we, two boys and not a boy and a girl, could be having sex right this minute and that would make your answer wrong,” Doumeki said, sounding patient and logical.

Watanuki dropped his hand and glared at the first out of thirty questions. “Can you just tell me what the answer is or would you like to take your test without that pencil?”

The pencil slid into his line of sight. “It’s ‘mental and physical’ or ‘mind and body’,” he said simply.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered in reply, even as he wrote the answer into the space provided.

“Yes it does. Look at the second question.”

He did. The unique human ability to engage the mind during sexual activity is what gives humans the other unique ability to…? He sighed. “Okay. What is it?”

“No guess of your own?”

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” he shot back.

Doumeki said something under his breath that sounded like ‘that’s what you think’ but before Watanuki could pick his jaw up to turn around and ask if he’d heard him right, he spoke again. “In any case, there are two answers that work. Do you like to fantasize or anticipate?”

He set the pencil down with an audible clack. “What has that got do with anything?” he asked in annoyance.

There was a long, loud silence behind him. Then, “You are a babe in the woods, aren’t you?”

“I am not a babe!”

“Oh, yes, you are. You’re completely innocent, apparently.” Doumeki blew out a breath that Watanuki half expected to feel against the nape of his neck. “Anticipation is one answer because…” he trailed off thoughtfully. “Let’s say that tomorrow I come to school knowing that when the final bell rings, you’re going to take me back to your place, be half out of your clothes before the door shuts behind us, that you’re going to shove me up against that door when it is closed and that you are going to rub your naked body all over mine while moaning into my mouth.”

Watanuki’s brain handed itself an image of him, entirely nude, pressing a fully clothed Doumeki up against the door of his apartment. It was helpfully embellished with his clothing in untidy pile behind him, complete with his keys on top like the cherry on a very bizarre ice-cream sundae. “You have archery club tomorrow,” he said as he tried to shove the mental picture into the box where he kept all the strange sights his brain tried to give him.

“Yes, but the anticipation of going home with you and getting naked with you and having mind-blowing sex with you is what I’m trying to get across. After spending all day knowing that it was only hours until I could have you in bed, all taut muscled and arched up under my hands, and having to wait for it…well, by the time club was over and you got off of work, you’d be lucky if I didn’t suck you off outside of Yuuko’s place. Just to take the edge off.”

“I…you…” Watanuki stared blindly at his test before snatching up his pencil and scribbling ‘to anticipate’ into the blank. “You wouldn’t,” he finished weakly.

Doumeki made a half-way amused sound. “Well, probably not. I’d like to think that I’d have more self control than that. It’d really depend on you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t!” Watanuki said instantly, not really sure what he was talking about because of the jostling going on inside his head.

“I know,” Doumeki answered, and the amusement was gone. “Anticipation implies that there is a reasonable expectation of that happening. That’s why ‘to fantasize’ is the other answer; because fantasy isn’t necessarily something that could happen, or would, but it provides the same sort of stimulation.”

Stimulation. The word made something in Watanuki’s brain go pop and it must have been the control button for the censor between his mouth and his brain because he heard himself say, “Yeah, but in one you…and then in the other you wouldn’t…”

“Get off?” Doumeki supplied. “And yes, I would. The only difference is whose hand is on my cock when it happens.”

Watanuki strangled a squeak before it could emerge. “Uh,” he managed.

“Because the stimulation is the same, like I said. I can tell myself that your hand brushed against my ass on purpose as you stomped past me. I can tell myself that it’s because you wanted to touch me, but couldn’t make yourself do it openly. I can pretend that when you won’t look me in the eye, it’s because you’ve been staring at my mouth and you don’t want your eyes to give away the fact that you’ve been thinking about licking my lower lip. And,” he continued on inexorably, “I can make believe that when you start shouting and people start leaving the room, that you’re doing it just to make everybody else leave. That when we’re alone, you’re going to crawl into my lap and you’ll be hard, and you’ll have known that I’d be hard too. And you’ll grind yourself against me, hardness to hardness, feeling the heat of it all despite the layers of clothes we have between us. You’d be desperate for the friction, mindless with the want to be someplace private, someplace where we could get our pants out of the way and have skin on skin.”

“Eh…” Watanuki swallowed hard as his brain supplied itself with a short video reel of himself straddling Doumeki’s lap and mewling. He bit his lip and hoped that the pain would be moderately distracting. “Why me?” he demanded.

Behind him he heard Doumeki shift in his seat. “As before, I’d like to think that I have a little more self control than to crawl all over you in public.”

“I meant,” Watanuki hissed, “why is it me in every example you come up with?”

Doumeki sighed. “Why not you?” he asked rhetorically. “I’m teaching you about sex. It’d be a little rude to have some nameless, dark-haired, bespectacled youth crawling into my pants and begging me to make him come screaming, wouldn’t it?”

Watanuki shoved his glasses up and rubbed hard at his eyes, trying not to picture exactly how it was that Doumeki could make somebody come screaming. “Fine. Why not some girl with big…” he gestured expansively.

“Breasts?” Doumeki asked, sounding bored. “Not interested.”

Good, because she’s a tramp, Watanuki thought churlishly. Then nearly slapped himself when he realized what he’d just been thinking. “Well. Um. All right. Good. Great.” He held the pencil by the very tip and put it over his shoulder. “Great. Um. I took, uh, anticipation. So. Erm. Number three,” he read loudly. “What is the most sensitive organ that the body possesses?” He closed his eyes. “Please,” he muttered, “tell me that this isn’t another brain question.”

“It’s a little more external than that,” Doumeki agreed. “Oh, come on and guess,” he entreated, and he sounded like he was laughing. Watanuki glared at his test and its empty, mocking blank. After a few moments, Doumeki spoke again. “Either you have no clue at all, or you have a clue and you just can’t say it out loud.”

Watanuki whipped around in his seat. “I can so say it out loud,” he growled. “You’re not the only one who can talk dirty! I can say plenty of things that are…are…filthy.”

Infuriatingly, Doumeki smiled at him. A true, full-blown smile. “I’m sure you can,” he said soothingly.

The censor between Watanuki’s brain and the rest of his body died a sudden and painful death as Watanuki turned fully around, knelt on the seat, reached out and grabbed Doumeki by the collar. “Listen, you creep,” he said roughly, “I am just as capable of saying the word ‘cock’ as you are.” The way Doumeki’s eyes went subtly round made Watanuki’s brain swoop dizzyingly between his ears. “I can say cock and pussy” which, he realized, he didn’t particularly care about at the moment, “and ass and nipple…”

“Nipple isn’t a dirty word,” Doumeki interrupted.

Watanuki tightened his grip on the other boy’s shirt and shook him. “It is when there is a mouth attached to it,” he snapped. “Licking and sucking and biting and making that nipple a nice, shiny, wet, red color to match the lips that are doing the sucking and the biting and the licking.”

“Okay.”

“Damn straight.” Watanuki shook him again, just to watch the way it made Doumeki’s eyes flutter between shades of gold. “Just because I don’t have time to think about the things I dream about doesn’t mean that I don’t want to. But the only time I’m really free to think about them is when you’re right there and we’re always in public or in the middle of doing something stupid and dangerous for my booze-hound boss.”

Doumeki’s face was almost comically blank. “Are you saying you’d think about it if we weren’t in public or in the middle of something stupid and dangerous?”

It sure looks that way, doesn’t it? Watanuki’s mind chirruped stupidly. “Shut up,” he said instead. “My point is that I am not entirely stupid when it comes to sex. Or fucking, which is what we’d end up doing. We’d be so worked up from all the accidentally on purpose groping and the anticipation and the fantasies that we’d never make it to as far as writhing around on a bed. Because after forcing each other to do a little bent-kneed, zipper-worshipping cock sucking we would end up on the floor, naked and panting and moaning and talking dirty to each other.”

“Okay.”

“Shut up,” Watanuki ordered, feeling dangerously out of control. “And I would be fucking you. That’s right,” he gloated as Doumeki’s eyes went hot and blind for the space of a second or two. A break in the mask. “I’d get to be the top and you’d be the bottom and you’d have my dick in your ass and you’d be groaning and purring and begging for more like some sort of porn star, you’d love it that much. It’d be that good.”

“Yeah, okay,” Doumeki’s voice was different. It was breathless in a way that Watanuki hadn’t heard before, in a way that was husky and sexy and tinged with pleading.

“And you know what else,” Watanuki murmured, leaning forward, dragging Doumeki towards him. He hissed as his hips made contact with the back of his seat, his erection pressing heavily against the backrest.

Um? his mind asked stupidly as sanity cut through the sexual haze he’d found himself in.

And then he realized that he was hard in the middle of school. And that it was because of what he’d been saying in the middle of school. Saying to Doumeki Shizuka who was suddenly, and most emphatically, the sexist thing he’d ever encountered in school or out. Which was why he was also more than half-way to kissing him and possibly taking a bite or two out of him. He bit his own lip, hard, in the same place he’d done earlier and hoped that the added pain would work where it had failed before. “I need the pencil so I can write ‘huge, throbbing, saliva-slicked cock’ for an answer to number three.” He turned around quickly, slumping back into his seat with the fervent hope that Doumeki hadn’t seen his crotch. He held out his hand. “Pencil?”

The pencil jabbed him in the palm as it was fumbled into his hand but when he moved to take it, it held firm. “While I’m sure you’d get points for the ‘throbbing’ bit, I don’t think that it’s the answer to this particular question.”

“It is now,” Watanuki mumbled, feeling hot all over and knowing that he was probably a bright, bright red.

Doumeki’s fingers slid over his own. “I’ll give you a hint,” he said persuasively.

Watanuki’s grip on the pencil tightened convulsively as he wondered just when he’d become so good at reading Doumeki’s stone face and monotone voice. “I don’t need a hint,” he said as the other boy’s thumb began to make tantalizing sweeps over the skin on the inside of his wrist.

“Hm,” Doumeki said agreeably. “Well, I’m giving you a hint right now anyway.”

Although he knew he should jerk his hand away, he didn’t. “Excuse me if I decide to stick with my answer rather than going with ‘hands’,” he said, meaning to sound sharp but failing miserably by sounding distracted.

“Skin.”

“What?” Watanuki knew that had sounded almost more like a gasp than a word, but the pencil had disappeared and fingers were sliding suggestively against his own.

“Skin,” Doumeki repeated, fingers stroking across his palm. “It’s the largest organ of the body and it contains billions of nerve endings all of which transmit sensations. Hot, cold, pain, pleasure,” he listed idly. “This is a really great test,” he continued calmly, as Watanuki’s heart kicked into higher gear, his whole body humming, “the questions all lead into each other.”

“No they don’t,” he protested for form’s sake, not really interested in passing his sex-ed test anymore. It was still galling, however, to let Doumeki be right all the time.

Doumeki, for his part, laughed. Just a chuff of breath that he really did feel at the nape of his neck this time. “Yes, they do. Because here I am, just touching your hand and I can feel how fast your pulse is getting. I can’t touch you anyplace else,” he said, his voice low and warm “that whole getting expelled thing you mentioned earlier, but you can feel this one, simple touch everywhere if you just let your mind go.”

He could, too.

“Down over your chest,” and Doumeki’s fingers slipped through his own, gliding until just the tips were touching. “Up your back,” and the fingers curled and retraced their path and Watanuki could feel it scoring red trails along his spine. “Something for you to think about, since you can’t do anything about it. A fantasy code for all the things I’m anticipating doing to you when we’re someplace…else.”

There were two courses of action that Watanuki felt capable of taking; whimpering and bolting for the door or whimpering and vaulting the desk to climb the boy sitting behind him. Both ended with Doumeki dropping them to the floor. He was torn and so, hoping that the third time would be the charm, bit his lip again. It worked. He’d bitten the exact same spot and far harder than he’d meant to, thanks to Doumeki’s thumb gliding across his wrist again. “Ouch,” he hissed, yanking his hand away to probe gingerly at his mouth.

“What?” Doumeki sounded concerned, uncertain.

Watanuki shook his head. Not you he thought. Aloud he said, “I bit my lip.” He withdrew his fingers and winced. “It’s bleeding.”

“Let me see,” Doumeki was crouching beside his desk, one hand on his chin as it had been earlier in the day and the other gently touching his lip. “I don’t think you bit through it,” he murmured, examining it closely, “but I can’t tell for certain. We’ve got to clean that up, first. Where’s your handkerchief?”

Yuuko, he thought with an internal shudder. “I don’t have it with me,” he admitted. He made a face at the congenial smile that greeted his announcement. “Don’t say a word,” he warned.

The smile twitched. “Of course not. I have mine, anyhow.” He shifted and the hand that had been on Watanuki’s face moved to his leg.

“Um. Doumeki?” Watanuki stared at the fingers that were less than two inches away from the rather conspicuous bulge in his uniform trousers.

He could tell the moment when Doumeki realized the position of his hand; the stillness around him magnified ten-fold and got even stiller. “Ah.”

“Yeah. Um…you should,” he sucked in a shaky gulp of air as Doumeki’s eyes came up and locked on his own, “you should probably move your hand.”

“Yeah.” An inch of space had disappeared when the sound of a throat being cleared, loudly, made them both freeze. Watanuki figured that if his bones hadn’t been turned into jelly, he probably would have leapt out of his skin. As it was, he merely looked up to see their teacher glaring at them from across the hall before Doumeki’s handkerchief blocked him from view. “Here,” Doumeki pushed it into his hand. “Sit tight,” he instructed.

Watanuki absentmindedly dabbed at his lip, watching Doumeki talk to their teacher and fidget which, for Doumeki, consisted of shifting his weight once and making one abortive gesture. “Well?” he asked when he returned.

Doumeki swept his books off of his desk and then collected Watanuki’s too. “Since you’re flushed and bleeding, you’re obviously not well so we’re free to go. We can take the tests home and turn them in the morning.” Watanuki followed him into the hall and out onto the school grounds. “I’m also supposed to take you home,” Doumeki said as they passed through the gates, “to make sure you get there all right.”

“Oh.” The thought of Doumeki taking him home made him shiver. “I have to go the shop,” he said. “I have work today.”

“Ah.”

“Um, about your handkerchief…”

“Keep it.”

“I planned on it. There’s no way to get the blood out of it, so…but,” Watanuki stumbled through the words. “I could make you lunch tomorrow. To make up for it.”

Doumeki slowed and glanced at him briefly. “You’re already making me lunch for the rest of the week. The thing that ate your pencil case, remember?”

“Oh. Right. I could make you dinner,” he offered in a rush. “Tonight. Since we have to finish the test.”

“My mother and father wouldn’t object to the change in cook,” he said and it sounded as though he was choosing his words carefully, “but the turgid, pulsating members in the living room might be a problem.”

Watanuki felt his blush renew itself. “I meant at my place.”

He backed into what he dimly realized was one of Yuuko’s gateposts as Doumeki rounded on him. “You’re sure?”

In answer, he dug his keys out of his pocked and dropped them into the hand that Doumeki automatically extended to him. “It’s Thursday. Yuuko’s anime shows are on so I only have to make dinner here. But you can go…” he felt another shiver ripple through him as Doumeki pocketed his keys. “Go ahead and get set up at my apartment.”

“Watanuki?” Yuuko’s voice, close at hand, intruded on them before Doumeki could say anything.

“You said it was all right if I was late today!” he shouted back. He shrugged at Doumeki’s raised eyebrow.

“I remember,” Yuuko answered, leaning out of the gate suddenly. “Thank you for walking him home, Doumeki-kun,” she smiled sweetly at him. The smile she turned on Watanuki was cat-like and smug. “If you’ll come along to the treasure room, I have something for that lip of yours,” she told him.

Watanuki let his head drop forward onto his chest. “That’s going to cost me, isn’t it?” he asked resignedly.

Yuuko nodded. “Of course. But it works great.”

“Hey,” Doumeki said, and rummaged through is school bag before coming up with a shiny, new blue pencil. He handed it over casually. “Will that do?”

For once, Yuuko didn’t even bother to examine it. “Beautifully.” She turned in a swish of long, dark hair and started down the garden path in a glide of silk perfume and high heels.

Watanuki glared at Doumeki, arms folded. “What was that?” he asked.

Doumeki leaned close. “I got it at school when I mentioned that we were sharing your pencil,” he said, the words a quiet susurration against Watanuki’s parted lips.

“Oh,” Watanuki replied, waiting for Doumeki to close the last bit of space between them.

He didn’t. Instead he stepped back, smiling. “Get your lip taken care of. I’ll start the rice at your place.” Watanuki’s keys jangled familiarly in Doumeki’s pocket.

“Right.” He watched the taller boy walk away, leaning weakly against the post behind him.

“Watanuki?” Yuuko voice floated lazily on the late afternoon air just as Doumeki turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

He straightened with a sigh and headed for the door of the shop. “We’re not going to talk about any of this at all,” he said as he opened the door.

“Of course not,” Yuuko answered with a laugh. “There isn’t anything to talk about yet.”

“I am not comforted,” he told her, ducking into his apron and letting her tie the back.

“Of course not,” Yuuko said again as she rubbed something pink, sparkling, and tingly onto his abused lip. “I wouldn’t be, if I were you.”

“THAT’S NOT COMFORTING EITHER!”

What was comforting was the fact that whatever it was she'd put on his lip tasted exactly like Doumeki's smile.
Tags: fic, xxxholic
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