Title: The Language of Flowers Author: scathachdhu Characters/Pairings: Urahara/Yoruichi Prompt: language of flowers Rating: PG Spoilers: vaguest of mentions of the HM arc Word Count: 1000 Warnings: Not really? Angry, evil Yoruichi and juvenile humor.
Urahara could feel Yoruichi moving around in another room, her reiatsu back to its usual low hum. They had argued earlier--rather, he had made her angry, and she had gone to the training room and destroyed a corner of it in order to keep from attacking him. If times hadn't been so uncertain and he wasn't needed in the coming war, he was sure she wouldn't have bothered restraining herself.
There was actually still a chance that she wouldn't, so he'd sent Tessai, Jinta and Ururu out for dinner, instructing them not to hurry back. It would have been easier to avoid the situation if Yoruichi was worried about hurting the children, but it wouldn't really help him in the long run.
"Yoruichi-san! Tessai started a stew, I hope that's acceptable," he called, not really expecting her to answer. She more than likely wouldn't speak to him any more than necessary.
"I want pancakes."
He heard her before he saw her, and she stepped just inside the kitchen a moment later. She leaned next to the doorway, arms folded over her chest. Her eyes were cool and distant as she watched him gather the vegetables Tessai had prepared before leaving.
"But Yoruichi-saaaan," he whined. "That's more work."
"Not for me," she shrugged, pushing herself off the wall and walking to the refrigerator. She pulled out a covered bowl and set it next to him. "Tessai already mixed up the batter, you just need to cook them."
He tossed a handful of potato pieces into the pot. "You're awfully spoiled, Yoruichi-san." He followed with the carrots and onions, giving the mixture a stir.
"Whatever," she yawned, scratching the back of her neck. "I'm going to take a bath."
"Very well; this should all be done by the time you finish," Urahara said, his voice pleasant. She left without another word and he held back a sigh. She was going to milk this for all it was worth, apparently.
No matter; if all he had to do was make her pancakes, he counted himself lucky. The chances of actually getting off so lightly were almost zero, but it was nice to dream.
He set a skillet on the stove and let it heat, and stirred the batter to loosen it. She had developed a taste for the dish during her recent wanderings and now demanded it at least once a week. Tessai had quickly learned how to mix up a bowl of batter at a moment's notice, and it wasn't long before Urahara had been pressed into cooking them when no one else was around.
Twenty minutes later, he padded into the living room with a tray of food. To his surprise, Yoruichi was nowhere to be seen. He went back for the drinks--tea for himself and milk for her--returning to find her already digging into her meal.
Her fork was halfway to her mouth when he came in, and she motioned for her glass of milk without looking up.
He sat down and handed her the glass, placing his tea on the table before beginning to eat. It was certainly tasty enough, if a bit lighter on onion than he usually liked.
Yoruichi tore through her meal with her usual healthy appetite, finally reduced to drawing a finger through the syrup on her plate. He raised an eyebrow.
"Is Yoruichi-san still hungry? You're welcome to some of my stew."
One side of her mouth quirked up and she shook her head, thick hair spilling over one shoulder. "Nah...I don't think it would agree with me."
Urahara laid down his chopsticks, immediately suspicious. Yoruichi had a cast-iron stomach; she could eat anything in any combination at any time of the day.
She reached beneath the table, that odd smile still on her face as she produced two bright yellow narcissus blooms.
"How lovely." Any other time he would have taken one from her, but she was absolutely capable of lacing the flower with some sort of irritant. "Is there a message I should be inferring from your gift? Or shall I simply take them as a token of your esteem?"
"The flowers are lovely," she agreed, her eyes shining. "But the bulbs have their uses as well."
His eyes widened slightly, and he forced his hands flat against his thighs. "Is that so?" Only years of practice allowed him to keep his voice even.
Yoruichi drew her lips back in a truly horrifying grin as she dropped the flowers in front of him, and in that moment he hated her. "Mm-hmm. Those weren't onions."
Urahara felt his stomach give an ominous gurgle, and he looked down at the empty bowl in front of him. "Have you killed me, Yoruichi-san?"
"No...but you'll have the shits for the next few hours. I bought you something to read, though; see how nice I am?" She patted a stack of glossy magazines at her side.
Urahara let out a long sigh, giving no sign of how his stomach roiled at her news. He took off his hat and placed it over his heart.
"Yoruichi-san," he said, bowing his head, "I humbly beg your forgiveness. I am more sorry to have offended you than words can possibly convey."
Yoruichi stuck a finger in her mouth, sucking off the syrup with an easy grin. "Oh, I know." She stood and walked towards the kitchen. "Hey, I'll get rid of the rest of that stew so the kids don't get into it," she called behind her.
He squeezed the bridge of his nose between two fingers, before standing and tucking the magazines beneath one arm. "Ah, thank you."
He walked to the toilet, and saw that she'd already placed incense and a lighter in the small room.
"Yoruichi-san is so considerate!" he called, dropping the magazines to clutch at his stomach.
"I know! I'm even clearing the table!" A loud crash followed her words. "Oops."
Urahara calmly lit a stick of incense, and readied himself, settling on the toilet. Opening the first magazine, he raised his eyebrows. "Ah..." he murmured. "They're picking that show up for another season. I'll have to let the children know."
He winced as his stomach clenched again, resigning himself to a long, uncomfortable evening.