Title: Tranquil
Summary: Watanuki hates it when Doumeki's right.
Notes: Written for the last round of IJ's Porn Battle, to the prompt "xxxHOLiC, Doumeki/Watanuki, like you have anything better to do." The fluffy beginnings of smut. 338 words.

Tranquil

Watanuki Kimihiro was at peace. There was no Yuuko-san bellowing in his ear for sake, and no Mokona cheering her on. The heavens only knew where Maru and Moro were; Kimihiro himself didn't know and most certainly didn't care.

There was only a sunlight-filled afternoon on the porch, with nothing to do but drowse and enjoy the lazy warmth.

A hand settled on his stomach and crept inside his yukata, and forced Kimihiro to open one eye. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, before he reminded himself that he was at peace. At peace, damn it.

Doumeki gave him That Look--the one that Kimihiro was pretty sure translated into "How do you even remember to breathe when you're this dumb?"--and slid his fingers across Kimihiro's stomach. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're trying to molest a poor boy who works his fingers to the bone to keep your lazy ass fed," Kimihiro said, pleased with the way each word dripped acid, even as the rasp of Doumeki's fingers made his skin jump and shiver pleasantly.

"And here I thought I was trying to molest you," Doumeki said, with his most infuriating stoneface. "Wonder how I made that mistake."

Kimihiro growled, and swatted at Doumeki's hand. "I was busy," he said, and stopped its slow creep south by catching Doumeki's wrist (and studiously ignored the fact that Doumeki was letting Kimihiro stop him).

"You were napping," Doumeki pointed out. His fingers, stopped in place, stroked back and forth over the skin low on his stomach.

"That counts as busy!" Kimihiro argued, swallowing against the way heat tightened, low in his belly. Doumeki raised an eyebrow at him. "It does, damn it!"

"This would be better," Doumeki said, and Kimihiro had forgotten that the jerk had two hands.

The worst of it, he decided, as Doumeki's mouth covered his and a large hand stroked his yukata open to the afternoon sun, was how much he hated it when Doumeki was right.

end