"The moon, " Doumeki said that Friday, seemingly out of the blue.
"What?" Watanuki asked, "The hell do you mean by that?"
"It's full tomorrow."
"And?!" Watanuki demanded.
"You're coming moon-viewing."
"I-What?! Just when did I agree to this, you jerk?!"
"You're coming," Doumeki said, and left it like that. Watanuki would come. He never ever realizes there is any other option, though he protests a lot. Loudly.
Saturday evening Watanuki walks onto the temple grounds, a grocery bag hanging off his thin wrist. A yukata drapes his gangly frame.
"I assumed you would want sake with your moon-viewing," Watanuki says grumpily, "I also assumed you would demand food to go with that."
"Mm," Doumeki replies. Actually, food (and sake) hadn't really been on his mind that much. Only Watanuki (always Watanuki).
Watanuki is definitely at home in Doumeki's kitchen now. Maybe too at home. He knows exactly where everything he needs is. The spice rack is always well stocked and the all of the dishes almost always clean and put away.
He really needs to meet Doumeki's mother. (On the other hand, maybe he shouldn't. He might be forever scarred knowing that such a nice woman could've given birth to such a creep).
"Watanuki," Doumeki says.
"What?!" Watanuki snaps in response.
Doumeki doesn't say anything.
"I said--!"
"You forgot to put on an apron."
"I did?" Watanuki asks, looking down self-consciously.
"You can wear one of my mother's," Doumeki deadpans, and holds up a frilly blue apron.
"What the hell?! I am not wearing that!" Watanuki screeches.
"It's the only clean one," Doumeki lies smoothly.
Watanuki grits his teeth and takes a deep and supposedly calming breath.
"Fine, I'll wear your ridiculous frilly thing," he mutters irritably, and snatches the apron out of Doumeki's hand. He ties it first around his waist, then sweeps the trailing ends up to tie them around his neck.
Doumeki finds himself starting at the back of Watanuki's neck, where his hair normally brushes it. He watches the graceful way Watanuki's fingers tie a knot their owner cannot see, the way they push his hair away.
I love you, he thinks, because he does. He faintly hopes Watanuki has somehow developed some sort of psychic ability to read his mind.
"Unless you're going to make yourself useful, which of course you won't, because you're Doumeki, can you get out please? You'll probably get in the way."
"What can I do?" Doumeki asks, startling Watanuki for a moment.
"H-hold this," Watanuki stammers, shoving a large bowl into his hands.
"What is it?" Doumeki asks curiously.
"A bowl," Watanuki says.
Obviously.
Doumeki's silence unnerves him.
"I'm making cookies," Watanuki murmurs, "I need you to hold the bowl while I get the ingredients. Go stand over in that corner or something, so you don't get in the way."
"Right," Doumeki responds tonelessly and moves into the corner. He lounges there, holding the bowl (bright yellow, like Kunogi's bird-thing) and watching Watanuki bustle about his kitchen.
I wouldn't mind this everyday.
The bowl is yanked out of his hands and placed on the counter. Watanuki is starting his cookies.
Doumeki decides to flee the scene before he does something stupid (that's Watanuki's job, after all).
1.0.4
They sit on the deck and stare at the moon."It's pretty," Watanuki admits. He's seen one too many full moons and one too many full moons with spirits. He's seen too many full moons with no one there, just one lonely boy staring up at a vast, cold chunk of rock.
Doumeki grunts an agreement and shoves his sake cup at Watanuki.
"Another serving?!" Watanuki bristles, "Sheesh, you're as bad as Yuuko-san."
Hardly.
Despite all of his complaining, Watanuki reaches for the bottle of sake, pouring another cup for Doumeki and nothing for himself. He hands the cup back, and Doumeki accepts it, his fingertips brushing Watanuki's. Watanuki shivers, and blames the wind.
It occurs to him then that this is one less lonely full moon in his life. It's irritating that it's Doumeki he spending it with, but not that much.
He knows his hatred of Doumeki has long since subsided, leaving something far more powerful and much scarier in its wake.
"Thank you, " he chokes out softly, hopes he is quiet enough that Doumeki will not have heard him.
No such luck. Doumeki's face turns towards him and something astounding and possibly earth-shattering happens.
The jerk smiles. Doesn't smirk, doesn't sneer. Smiles, a faint smile, slow and languid and content. Watanuki's heart skips a beat and something flutters in his stomach. He flushes and looks the opposite direction, a small smile lighting up his face when Doumeki's shoulder brushes his own.
Yes, he does know exactly where everything he needs is.