[xxx-Holic] The New Year

He had tried to embrace Watanuki in the kitchen, when Watanuki had been standing at the stove, distractedly stirring something in a large pot. Doumeki had wrapped his arms around Watanuki from behind, buried his face in messy black hair, and for all of a moment, felt complete bliss having that wiry body pressed against his.

Until Watanuki promptly jabbed a bony elbow backward, straight into Doumeki’s ribcage, and added a barked command to “Get back out there and wait. The food won’t cook any faster with you groping me.” Watanuki always knew the best way to kill any romance.

Doumeki had tried to grab Watanuki’s hand when they were standing on the engawa, watching the amateur fireworks shoot into the sky. Beautiful displays of red and orange and green and pink, lighting up the night in celebration. Watanuki had ripped his hand away with a move so quick he’d almost careened right off the porch.

Doumeki had grabbed his elbow, steadying him, and Watanuki had muttered something about brainless oafs and put a noticeable distance between them. His face blossomed pink, but whether out of embarrassment because of his clumsiness or Doumeki’s attempt at romance, Doumeki would never guess.

He’d tried to steal a kiss in the hallway, where it was too narrow for two people to pass each other without touching. He and Watanuki had brushed very close, close enough for Doumeki to smell the incense that always clung to Watanuki nowadays, and the soft scent of his shampoo and soap. Close enough for Doumeki to feel the heat Watanuki seemed to radiate in droves, but never seemed inclined to share with Doumeki.

But before Doumeki could even lean in, capture those lips, Watanuki wriggled like a multi-armed being and made his escape, skittering down the hallway as though he were a frightened cat.

Doumeki had sighed inwardly and resigned himself to the fact he’d have to ring in the new year without so much as a kind look from his so-called lover.

On the porch, minutes after the last bells had tolled and the sound of celebration could still be heard by those with ears good enough to catch them, Watanuki invited Doumeki to share a bottle of Yuuko’s sake with him, eyes shifted away and a noticeable blush in his cheeks.

Watanuki didn’t fight when Doumeki reached for him instead, when Watanuki ended up sprawled halfway across his lap, their lips sealed together in an awkward, sloppy kiss that couldn’t have been more perfect. Watanuki had squirmed, and made appropriate sounds of enjoyment in his throat, and Doumeki forgave his earlier skittishness in an instant.

He always did.

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