[HOLiC] Business as Usual
Title: Business as Usual Fandom: xxxHOLiC Character/s: Watanuki, Doumeki, Yuuko Words: 784 Notes: 15 Minute Ficlet, Word #81. Totally not written in fifteen minutes. I still think this song is going to say I keep it in my pants. EVERY TIME.
It was like a competition. It was like one of the game shows Watanuki didn't have time for any more, where the contestants struggled frantically to prepare a meal for thirty people with limited ingredients, resources and time. It was like that, except that Watanuki had no prize money coming to him.
And it might not have been so bad if he'd actually liked the person he was doing it for. But, no. Yuuko had somehow volunteered him to cook for a group of spiritualists who were in the area - and also, somewhat phenomenally, boarding at the Doumeki family temple.
Which meant that he got to wake up at five instead of seven, to prepare enough food for the lot of them (and Doumeki) before he rushed off to Yuuko's for a few hours to clean and serve and be poked at and tickled and taunted and generally be ill-used, and then he got to rush back to Doumeki's place to prepare lunch for the group of sages.
Not that he was at all irritated at them for this. They had to be catered for during their stay, and Watanuki would certainly do a far better job of that than that oaf, who as far as Watanuki could tell spent his days offering completely unnecessary commentary on the way Watanuki was running the Doumeki kitchen. No, he wasn't annoyed at the spiritualists. He was annoyed at Doumeki - and at Yuuko, for suggesting this.
And for going further. For suggesting worse.
"Why don't you take a few days off," she had suggested magnanimously, sampling the beer he had just opened for her. "You can stay with Doumeki-kun, and that will be much easier, won't it? You won't mind," she added with a knowing smirk, "will you, Doumeki-kun?"
And of course, the idiot had shrugged obediently and just said, "It's fine." Like the big clod he was. Useless in a kitchen. Couldn't set a table to Watanuki's satisfaction if his life depended on it - which it was coming to, because if Watanuki had to add one more task to his impossible to-do list, he was going to snap and go on some kind of homicidal rampage, he was sure of it. It wasn't helping his presence of mind to have Doumeki there all the time, dull eyes boring into the back of Watanuki's neck.
When he discovered that the rice in Doumeki's cupboard had come complete with weevils, Watanuki stood there quaking for a few seconds until Doumeki came up behind him, peered over his shoulder, and said, "Oh."
Watanuki turned around, eyes wild, mouth already open to begin ranting - and was interrupted by a pleased sort of beep from the rice cooker. Doumeki reached past him to turn it off.
"I made it already," he said, unnecessarily. Pointing to the ruined packet in Watanuki's hand, he continued, "That, I have to return tomorrow."
Watanuki stared at him. And, not wanting to let all the rage go to waste, "Why didn't you return it today?" It was a weak sort of accusation, and Doumeki just slow-blinked at him like a cat in the sun - like he was stupid, just a little bit.
"They're leaving tomorrow," he said. And, when Watanuki still looked like he didn't understand, "So are you."
Watanuki opened and shut his mouth a few times, which gave Doumeki the time to sit the weevil-infested rice back on the end of the benchtop, on top of the receipt he would need, and to grab a covered dish to put the rice into - which reminded the bespectacled boy that there was curry on the stove that could be turned up a notch if the rice was already done, because it was really just simmering now, anyway.
When dinner was done, it was on to the dishes, and then as much of his summer homework as didn't blur away before his tired eyes before Doumeki (who had the bed, and was therefore in charge of the lamp, apparently regardless of who else had to share the room and the light with him) turned the light off without so much as a grunt of goodnight, leaving Watanuki to pack up his books in the dark and crawl into his futon, mentally revising the contents of the Doumeki pantry and trying to plan what he could make them all for breakfast the next morning.
"Peaches," Doumeki suggested out of the darkness, and Watanuki threw his pillow in that direction. Doumeki, used to this, warded it off with little effort, and Watanuki rolled the other way, steaming and unwittingly reworking his breakfast plans around peaches, of all things. His work was never done.