storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-02-20 08:02 am
storypaint) wrote2009-02-20 08:02 am
Entry tags:
Possession as a Form of Communication (Watanuki and Yuuko gen)
Title: Possession as a Form of Communication
Length: 789 words
Rating: G
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fic_on_demand: an alternate take on Watanuki's origin for the Valentine's Day event
Pairing: Yuuko and Watanuki gen
Excerpt: "We cannot play this game any longer," she says, looking up at him, her eyes sharp, and he's already preparing an annoyed retort, but something in her face stops his voice in his throat.
She clutches at her dress, rolling the fabric up in her palms, and that's how he knows she is really upset. Yuuko rarely makes outward signs of her distress.
"Yuuko-san?" Watanuki says, feeling worried. He hopes that she will break into a grin, request sake, make odd predictive statements that he'll only understand weeks later. It would provoke his irritation, sure, but at least it would be familiar.
"We cannot play this game any longer," she says, looking up at him, her eyes sharp, and he's already preparing an annoyed retort, but something in her face stops his voice in his throat.
"I don't understand," he says instead.
She concentrates on a point behind his ear, and he only realizes that she is trying not to appear too upset when she rises from her seat suddenly. It isn't too rare of a thing for her to invade his personal space, but the way she studies him from close range, her fingers burning on his neck, makes him uncomfortable.
"Go," she whispers, her breath warm, and he blinks.
"Yuuko-san?"
"You have fooled me for a while, but this isn't really your place. Your world. The spirits chasing you, your tendency to nearly die on any appropriate occasion..."
"WHAAAT?" he says, inhaling and preparing to rant about the crypticness of one's employer and said employer's invasion of personal space and the fact that nothing Yuuko-san ever said made sense, and how was he expected to work in these conditions, and--
"Clow," she says before he can get any further constructing it in his head, "let me finish this job and leave this poor boy alone."
And something in his mind rips. He wonders from the back of his mind if this is what multiple personality disorder is like. He doesn't think so. Persons with dissociative identity don't know that they share their brains with other people, he thinks.
Someone is using his mouth.
"I just thought--"
She releases his face and whips around to show him her back, and Watanuki watches in horror as his eyes focus on the thin line of flesh visible, cut out from the back of her dress. He can tell that this other appreciates it in a way Watanuki has never wanted to appreciate it, and it creeps him out. His eyes feel unclean suddenly, and he would spaz, except his possessor is suddenly in control of all of his body and he has nothing except this brain space here in the corner.
Clow... he thinks, trying to remember if Yuuko has mentioned him or not.
"You always just think," she says, her voice harsh. "You've done enough messing around after your death. Can't you see the way that hitsuzen tangles around this child? You can't just go reincarnating or possessing people whenever you wish. It makes a lot of work for me."
"And here, I thought you might have missed me a little," the man speaks, making Watanuki's voice deep with amusement.
"I cannot miss you," she replies softly, "unless you're truly gone."
Clow sighs. "I know. I know. Take care of them, will you?"
"I always have, you know that!" she declares angrily, turning around again, but suddenly Watanuki is the only person in his head, and he reels with vertigo and nearly falls over. Yuuko grabs his arm and holds him steady. She studies him a moment longer in the same pointed manner, but this time he seems to pass inspection.
"You can go now," she says. "The spirits won't bother you anymore."
He smiles with relief, a real true smile, and strides to the doorway, his heart light. But then he pauses, looks back at a woman who is already lost in her thoughts, her clothing in its usual disarray.
"I, um, I was thinking about making something with chicken for lunch," he says, pressing his nails against his palms without thinking.
She blinks.
"I know you wanted chicken last week after all the shops were closed," he reminds, letting the familiar anger creep into his tone. "So I bought some on the regular shopping trip."
"But do we have appropriate liquor for chicken, I wonder?" Yuuko says innocently, settling back down onto the divan languorously.
"I'm sure you can find something, you alcoholic," he grumbles, slamming the front door and stalking into the kitchen. Soon loud cooking noises emanate, and louder ones still when Mokona wanders through and attempts to take a sample.
Yuuko listens to his raised voice, leans back on the couch, and stretches. She shuts her eyes and threw an arm over her eyes, so that the only visible indicator of her mood was her broad grin.
"Worked out better than I thought," she mutters, and takes a nap before lunch.
Length: 789 words
Rating: G
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Prompt:
fic_on_demand: an alternate take on Watanuki's origin for the Valentine's Day eventPairing: Yuuko and Watanuki gen
Excerpt: "We cannot play this game any longer," she says, looking up at him, her eyes sharp, and he's already preparing an annoyed retort, but something in her face stops his voice in his throat.
She clutches at her dress, rolling the fabric up in her palms, and that's how he knows she is really upset. Yuuko rarely makes outward signs of her distress.
"Yuuko-san?" Watanuki says, feeling worried. He hopes that she will break into a grin, request sake, make odd predictive statements that he'll only understand weeks later. It would provoke his irritation, sure, but at least it would be familiar.
"We cannot play this game any longer," she says, looking up at him, her eyes sharp, and he's already preparing an annoyed retort, but something in her face stops his voice in his throat.
"I don't understand," he says instead.
She concentrates on a point behind his ear, and he only realizes that she is trying not to appear too upset when she rises from her seat suddenly. It isn't too rare of a thing for her to invade his personal space, but the way she studies him from close range, her fingers burning on his neck, makes him uncomfortable.
"Go," she whispers, her breath warm, and he blinks.
"Yuuko-san?"
"You have fooled me for a while, but this isn't really your place. Your world. The spirits chasing you, your tendency to nearly die on any appropriate occasion..."
"WHAAAT?" he says, inhaling and preparing to rant about the crypticness of one's employer and said employer's invasion of personal space and the fact that nothing Yuuko-san ever said made sense, and how was he expected to work in these conditions, and--
"Clow," she says before he can get any further constructing it in his head, "let me finish this job and leave this poor boy alone."
And something in his mind rips. He wonders from the back of his mind if this is what multiple personality disorder is like. He doesn't think so. Persons with dissociative identity don't know that they share their brains with other people, he thinks.
Someone is using his mouth.
"I just thought--"
She releases his face and whips around to show him her back, and Watanuki watches in horror as his eyes focus on the thin line of flesh visible, cut out from the back of her dress. He can tell that this other appreciates it in a way Watanuki has never wanted to appreciate it, and it creeps him out. His eyes feel unclean suddenly, and he would spaz, except his possessor is suddenly in control of all of his body and he has nothing except this brain space here in the corner.
Clow... he thinks, trying to remember if Yuuko has mentioned him or not.
"You always just think," she says, her voice harsh. "You've done enough messing around after your death. Can't you see the way that hitsuzen tangles around this child? You can't just go reincarnating or possessing people whenever you wish. It makes a lot of work for me."
"And here, I thought you might have missed me a little," the man speaks, making Watanuki's voice deep with amusement.
"I cannot miss you," she replies softly, "unless you're truly gone."
Clow sighs. "I know. I know. Take care of them, will you?"
"I always have, you know that!" she declares angrily, turning around again, but suddenly Watanuki is the only person in his head, and he reels with vertigo and nearly falls over. Yuuko grabs his arm and holds him steady. She studies him a moment longer in the same pointed manner, but this time he seems to pass inspection.
"You can go now," she says. "The spirits won't bother you anymore."
He smiles with relief, a real true smile, and strides to the doorway, his heart light. But then he pauses, looks back at a woman who is already lost in her thoughts, her clothing in its usual disarray.
"I, um, I was thinking about making something with chicken for lunch," he says, pressing his nails against his palms without thinking.
She blinks.
"I know you wanted chicken last week after all the shops were closed," he reminds, letting the familiar anger creep into his tone. "So I bought some on the regular shopping trip."
"But do we have appropriate liquor for chicken, I wonder?" Yuuko says innocently, settling back down onto the divan languorously.
"I'm sure you can find something, you alcoholic," he grumbles, slamming the front door and stalking into the kitchen. Soon loud cooking noises emanate, and louder ones still when Mokona wanders through and attempts to take a sample.
Yuuko listens to his raised voice, leans back on the couch, and stretches. She shuts her eyes and threw an arm over her eyes, so that the only visible indicator of her mood was her broad grin.
"Worked out better than I thought," she mutters, and takes a nap before lunch.
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