Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Not My Kind ❯ Chapter 1

Title: Not My Kind

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mild shonen-ai

Pairing/Characters: Watari, Tsuzuki/Hisoka if you squint, OFC

Word Count: 1,074

Disclaimed: These characters do not belong to me - well, except Yamamoto-san, but she's kind of inconsequential. They are the property of Yoko Matsushita and anyone she has sold legal rights to. I merely play in her world.

Notes: Umm, first completed attempt at `fic for this fandom. I hope it's not too bad. Comments to the author are like sweets to Tsuzuki - they should be consumed often and with gusto. Feed the author?

 

Not My Kind

 

Watari chuckled from his vantage point in the courtyard. Bon was extremely popular with the young ladies who attended the school the three were currently investigating. It seemed like every time the scientist saw him, he was trailed by a gaggle of young girls. Some of the more persistent ones had even managed to corner him a time or two. Watari's grin widened when he remembered how much Hisoka had scowled and grumbled at being forced to play the part of schoolboy while his partner slacked off in the administrative offices and Watari tried not to blow up the school's lab. He had a pretty good guess that this was why.

 

“How did Tsuzuki manage to not get a job at the school this time?” Watari wondered as he watched Hisoka try to brush off yet another admirer, this time a very pretty and very determined brunette. “Ah, yes. That's right. We needed him more in that clerk's position.”

 

“Yamamoto-san,” Watari heard Hisoka say with exasperation dripping from his voice. The two had stopped under a tree a few feet from where the scientist lounged, and Watari saw the young man reach up and rub at his temple. He just hoped the emotional residue in the school wasn't too much to the boy. “Yamamoto-san, I'm really not interested. Please stop asking.”

 

“Why not?” she demanded, crossing her arms and stomping her foot. “Every girl in this school would give her right arm to go out with you. The others I can understand. What boy in their right mind wouldn't turn them down? But I'm the prettiest girl in school. Everybody wants to be with me.” She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and smiled winningly at Hisoka. He was having none of it, though, snorting derisively and looking away from the girl with a frown, fixing vague green eyes on some point in the distance.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said, the apology as sincere as one of Tsuzuki's pouts, which was to say, not very and highly superficial. He didn't bother to keep the irritation from his tone. “I'm not -“

 

“Interested,” she interrupted, a nasty, sneering note entering her voice. “Yeah. I get that. You've said it enough lately. We're all getting a little sick of hearing it, frankly. What I want to know,” she sidled up to him and leaned in close. Hisoka took a step back, his expression unreadable. “Is why? Are none of us good enough for you, oh Prince of Frost?”

 

Watari frowned. This couldn't end well. The girl was close enough to touch the empath, in fact had her finger posed as though to poke him in the chest; and Hisoka looked about ready to say something particularly scathing. Watari was pushing away from the tree he's been leaning against, ready to go diffuse the situation when he saw Hisoka's focus change completely, the girl forgotten.

 

“Are you even listening to me, Kurosaki-kun?” Yamamoto demanded, realizing that she no longer had the younger Shinigami's attention. It had very obviously shifted to a point over her shoulder. Following his intense, sharpened gaze, Watari's lips stretched in a knowing smile as he recognized just what, exactly, had caught Hisoka's attention. Really, the girl never had a chance.

 

“Oh, no, Yamamoto-san, I don't believe that he is,” Watari muttered, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “But I do think that you're about to get the answer to all of your questions.”

 

Watari watched as Tsuzuki approached and marveled at the changes that came over Hisoka. The vague look left his eyes, the green of them becoming brighter and more vibrant. The bored, disinterested expression softened, and Hisoka's lips twitched into the closest he ever came to a smile. It turned him from simply handsome to beautiful.

 

If she had noticed the changes, too, Yamamoto-san was ignoring them. Although Watari had his doubts that she had missed it. She tapped her foot, waiting for a response, irritation in the set of her mouth; but her eyes were a little wide and her breath had caught just a smidgeon.

 

“I'm sorry, Yamamoto-san,” Hisoka finally replied. “You're just not my type. Excuse me.”

 

Polite as always, even irritated and highly distracted, Watari thought wryly.

 

“Not your - What's that supposed to mean?” the girl asked, incredulous as the young man started to walk away. “I'm everybody's type!” Her anger was palpable, but Hisoka didn't seem to notice as he brushed past her and briskly made his way to meet Tsuzuki. Watari chuckled as he watched her turn, her mouth open to give Hisoka the reaming of a lifetime. Her anger turned to shock when Tsuzuki swept Hisoka into his arms, ignoring the younger Shinigami's yelp of surprise, swinging him around before delivering a firm kiss to his lips.

 

The poor girl stood there and stared. Watari, taking pity on her, walked over and placed a gentle finger under her chin, closing her mouth, which was hanging open in shock. She jumped slightly at the unexpected contact. “Oh,” she said faintly. “I guess not.” She continued to watch the pair, dazed, seemingly oblivious to everything except the scene playing out before her.

 

Watari snorted as the sound of a harsh “smack” reverberated across the courtyard. An irritated voice drifted back on the wind, “Idiot! We're in public! Cut it out!” The snort turned into outright laughter when Tsuzuki started to whine.

 

“But Hisoka…” Watari had no problem at all imagining the crocodile tears that were probably standing in Tsuzuki's purple eyes. “Don't be mean!” Tsuzuki ran his hand slowly down the side of his partner's face, rubbing his cheek gently with his thumb. Watari could see, even from that distance, the incongruous sight of Hisoka trying to both lean into the touch and pull away from it before finally just giving in and accepting the caress.

 

Yamamoto-san walked away, distractedly shaking her head and muttering, “He - he could have just said - Mentioned it - I mean, we would have understood…” and Watari's amusement grew. He turned back to his colleagues in time to see the scene before him come to its inevitable - and predictable, he couldn't help thinking with a grin - end when Hisoka, that half smile back on his lips, put his arms around his partner's neck and kissed him back.

 

“But he did say something, Yamamoto-san. Rather loudly and clearly, I should think,” Watari said, chortling maniacally. “You just weren't the one he said it to.”