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bonnefoisTitle: Eve
Series: Death Mark
Character/pairing: Yashiki/Mashita
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mashita, Yashiki, and new year's eve.
Word count: 1,394
Author's note:
Another day done. The night was cold. The doors were closed off, but not locked. Just in case a knock should come.
Mashita had his coat over his shoulder. He could've taken the day off, but he'd come in anyways. That was becoming more and more common. Mashita never let anything--be it danger, poor weather, or holidays.
"You got plans? Let me guess. You're going to the temple," Mashita said.
Masamune Kujou would've. But, he wasn't Masamune anymore. He'd become Kazuo Yashiki. It'd been nothing but a placeholder, but he'd become this person.
Still, as someone who worked with spirits, he could use an Omamori. And whatever prayers and blessings he could get from the inevitable curses he'd face in the coming year.
"I'll pay a visit tomorrow," Yashiki said.
"The lines are long. It's a pain in the ass. I wait all that time to get a fortune that says I'm fucked? I don't think so. It's stupid, getting all excited over the new year. I'm sure they'll make another panic like Y2K."
Mashita, of course, didn't like much of anything.
"I think it'd be worth it," Yashiki said.
Mashita snorted. "Hardly matters."
"I'm going to greet the new year tonight," Yashiki said.
The boundary between the new year and the past...the spirits parade. It was a very active time during his line of work.
"Drinking in the new year, huh? That doesn't sound too bad," Mashita said.
"People kiss when one year ends and another starts," Yashiki said.
"You making a suggestion?"
Yashiki smiled.
"...I didn't have any plans but drinking myself into a stupor, anyways. Might as well pass out at your place than mine," Mashita said.
As if he didn't spend most every night there, and plenty of them in Yashiki's bed. But that was how Mashita was. They'd dated for years and he still was this flippant and blunt. He often spoke coarsely, as if they weren't even together. Yet he still kissed Yashiki at every chance, and still ended up in his bed more oftent han not.
*
Fireworks on the television. Fireworks outside. He'd had some champagne, but he wasn't drunk. Mashita was keeping watch. Spirits weren't at their door, for once.
The night hadn't had much talk. Mashita was alert. Or as alert as he could be with some champagne in them.
Yashiki had made plenty of bad choices in his life. This wasn't one of them.
"It'll be a quiet night," Yashiki said.
"You say that when there's that noise outside?"
"No spirits attacking. Not here, at least," Yashiki said.
"Well, you'd know," Mashita said.
Mashita's posture relaxed somewhat. He'd kept his gaze at the door, waiting for a knock. No mark bearers came, no spirits lingered at the doors.
Yashiki had lost track of what was on the television, until the countdown started. He'd lost track of time. Drank the night away in quiet waiting.
They'd spent the night on the couch. The same couch that the doll which had almost killed him had been on. With deep red cushions that were even softer than they looked.
He hadn't gotten rid of it, not yet. But he'd moved in a television. Because Mashita liked to have the noise on for ambiance, and sometimes they watched things together. Often news reports, like some old married couple.
(Mashita always had a wry and biting comment towards the news anchors.)
Mashita leaned in. As the announcer yelled happy new year! their lips met. Warm and still surprisingly good every single time, even after this many years of kisses. Mashita gripped his collar and kissed him hard, a kiss with a bitter aftertaste of cigarettes that he had grown fond of, because with Mashita, there was always a sharp edge.
Mashita ran his hands up Yashiki's back.
When their parted, Mashita smiled crookedly. And they remained like that. Close enough.
It wasn't their first kiss, but it was the first kiss at the end of the year. They'd been detained by spirits the other times. So busy with cases that they didn't even notice when one year became another.
There'd been plenty of firsts in the years they'd been together. First holidays, first times at the restaurants, at haunted spots. Yashiki remembered them all.
"I guess this is 'happy new year'?" Yashiki said.
"Happy new year, then," Mashita said.
The kiss and champagne had made him be almost kind, for at least a few minutes of the new year.
"Stay the night, would you? People drive drunk coming home from parties. It isn't safe," Yashiki said.
"I would've passed out here anyways, and you know it."
Mashita lived here most of the time. Most times, he didn't even need an excuse. Usually, the only time he'd be away was when a case made them have to hole up in a hotel room together.
That didn't stop him from being just as blunt, as if he were a stranger in this mansion and not Yashiki's partner. But Yashiki didn't take it personally. Mashita was Mashita, after all.
*
When morning came, Mashita was up and waiting in the garage.
"You're going?"
Mashita's calm face turned to a snarl.
"You're treating me for this," Mashita said.
Which might as well have been a joke, because Yashiki always treated him.
The drive took a long time, and the wait in line took far too long. Mashita finished several cigarettes by the time they finally made it up the temple.
Yashiki could sense the spiritual energy here. The box for prayers, the bright robed monks about, a miko sweeping far off.
It'd been a shrine like this where he'd been cursed. Now, he'd come back as Kazuo Yashiki not Masamune Kujou.
Yashiki closed his eyes and put his hands together in a prayer. For the new year, for the people he couldn't save, for his sister, whose death he'd inadvertently caused when he'd tried to purify Mary's seal.
He was still cleaning up Masamune's mistakes, even when he wasn't that man anymore. They shared the same body, but circumstances had severed Masamune and left Yashiki there.
After the prayers, Yashiki took his fortune on a slip of paper.
Mashita had taken his fortune, and frowned at the little bit of paper.
"Feh....it's a bad luck fortune for the year. Figures."
"Tie it on the tree so it can dissipate."
"You must've gotten something good. You're holding onto it," Mashita said. He reached to leave his fortune in the trees, which were filled with other unfavorable fortunes, like decorations all tied up there. White and fluttering in the breeze.
He'd gotten a love fortune. He slipped it in his pocket.
Many people passed them in colorful kimonos and striking hakama. Neither had dressed up. So they were, as some of his fellow companions put it--two sullen middle aged men in slightly rumpled old suits. Neither had shaved in the morning, and Mashita had a slight stubble.
Yashiki rather liked how the roughness would be against his cheek when he leaned in for a kiss, and how rugged it made Mashita look.
Of course, Mashita never let his stubble grow too much. Soon enough he'd be cleanshaven again.
"You ready for breakfast?"
"Sure," Mashita said.
Mashita didn't look at Yashiki as he spoke.
"It wasn't that bad, spending time with you. I might do it again. Who knows...I might even look forward to this damned celebration if I can spend it with you every year."
Mashita's face was a snarl. "New resolution. I say one nice thing a year. And that was the only nice thing you're getting all year."
New year's resolutions were another thing Mashita didn't care for. He thought the ritual silly. To only make a resolution at the immediacy of the first of the year, then forget it by February.
"I'd like that," Yashiki said.
Mashita was quiet. He always seemed to be suspicious of any affection, but he'd finally begun to accept it from Yashiki.
It didn't mean he wouldn't have some comeback for it. It was Mashita, after all.
"You old sap," Mashita muttered.
They headed back home. Another whole year they'd spend together, purifying spirits and helping people. Getting food and bickering, occasionally. And being curled up in bed together as Mashita slowly opened up to him a little more every year.
Series: Death Mark
Character/pairing: Yashiki/Mashita
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mashita, Yashiki, and new year's eve.
Word count: 1,394
Author's note:
Another day done. The night was cold. The doors were closed off, but not locked. Just in case a knock should come.
Mashita had his coat over his shoulder. He could've taken the day off, but he'd come in anyways. That was becoming more and more common. Mashita never let anything--be it danger, poor weather, or holidays.
"You got plans? Let me guess. You're going to the temple," Mashita said.
Masamune Kujou would've. But, he wasn't Masamune anymore. He'd become Kazuo Yashiki. It'd been nothing but a placeholder, but he'd become this person.
Still, as someone who worked with spirits, he could use an Omamori. And whatever prayers and blessings he could get from the inevitable curses he'd face in the coming year.
"I'll pay a visit tomorrow," Yashiki said.
"The lines are long. It's a pain in the ass. I wait all that time to get a fortune that says I'm fucked? I don't think so. It's stupid, getting all excited over the new year. I'm sure they'll make another panic like Y2K."
Mashita, of course, didn't like much of anything.
"I think it'd be worth it," Yashiki said.
Mashita snorted. "Hardly matters."
"I'm going to greet the new year tonight," Yashiki said.
The boundary between the new year and the past...the spirits parade. It was a very active time during his line of work.
"Drinking in the new year, huh? That doesn't sound too bad," Mashita said.
"People kiss when one year ends and another starts," Yashiki said.
"You making a suggestion?"
Yashiki smiled.
"...I didn't have any plans but drinking myself into a stupor, anyways. Might as well pass out at your place than mine," Mashita said.
As if he didn't spend most every night there, and plenty of them in Yashiki's bed. But that was how Mashita was. They'd dated for years and he still was this flippant and blunt. He often spoke coarsely, as if they weren't even together. Yet he still kissed Yashiki at every chance, and still ended up in his bed more oftent han not.
*
Fireworks on the television. Fireworks outside. He'd had some champagne, but he wasn't drunk. Mashita was keeping watch. Spirits weren't at their door, for once.
The night hadn't had much talk. Mashita was alert. Or as alert as he could be with some champagne in them.
Yashiki had made plenty of bad choices in his life. This wasn't one of them.
"It'll be a quiet night," Yashiki said.
"You say that when there's that noise outside?"
"No spirits attacking. Not here, at least," Yashiki said.
"Well, you'd know," Mashita said.
Mashita's posture relaxed somewhat. He'd kept his gaze at the door, waiting for a knock. No mark bearers came, no spirits lingered at the doors.
Yashiki had lost track of what was on the television, until the countdown started. He'd lost track of time. Drank the night away in quiet waiting.
They'd spent the night on the couch. The same couch that the doll which had almost killed him had been on. With deep red cushions that were even softer than they looked.
He hadn't gotten rid of it, not yet. But he'd moved in a television. Because Mashita liked to have the noise on for ambiance, and sometimes they watched things together. Often news reports, like some old married couple.
(Mashita always had a wry and biting comment towards the news anchors.)
Mashita leaned in. As the announcer yelled happy new year! their lips met. Warm and still surprisingly good every single time, even after this many years of kisses. Mashita gripped his collar and kissed him hard, a kiss with a bitter aftertaste of cigarettes that he had grown fond of, because with Mashita, there was always a sharp edge.
Mashita ran his hands up Yashiki's back.
When their parted, Mashita smiled crookedly. And they remained like that. Close enough.
It wasn't their first kiss, but it was the first kiss at the end of the year. They'd been detained by spirits the other times. So busy with cases that they didn't even notice when one year became another.
There'd been plenty of firsts in the years they'd been together. First holidays, first times at the restaurants, at haunted spots. Yashiki remembered them all.
"I guess this is 'happy new year'?" Yashiki said.
"Happy new year, then," Mashita said.
The kiss and champagne had made him be almost kind, for at least a few minutes of the new year.
"Stay the night, would you? People drive drunk coming home from parties. It isn't safe," Yashiki said.
"I would've passed out here anyways, and you know it."
Mashita lived here most of the time. Most times, he didn't even need an excuse. Usually, the only time he'd be away was when a case made them have to hole up in a hotel room together.
That didn't stop him from being just as blunt, as if he were a stranger in this mansion and not Yashiki's partner. But Yashiki didn't take it personally. Mashita was Mashita, after all.
*
When morning came, Mashita was up and waiting in the garage.
"You're going?"
Mashita's calm face turned to a snarl.
"You're treating me for this," Mashita said.
Which might as well have been a joke, because Yashiki always treated him.
The drive took a long time, and the wait in line took far too long. Mashita finished several cigarettes by the time they finally made it up the temple.
Yashiki could sense the spiritual energy here. The box for prayers, the bright robed monks about, a miko sweeping far off.
It'd been a shrine like this where he'd been cursed. Now, he'd come back as Kazuo Yashiki not Masamune Kujou.
Yashiki closed his eyes and put his hands together in a prayer. For the new year, for the people he couldn't save, for his sister, whose death he'd inadvertently caused when he'd tried to purify Mary's seal.
He was still cleaning up Masamune's mistakes, even when he wasn't that man anymore. They shared the same body, but circumstances had severed Masamune and left Yashiki there.
After the prayers, Yashiki took his fortune on a slip of paper.
Mashita had taken his fortune, and frowned at the little bit of paper.
"Feh....it's a bad luck fortune for the year. Figures."
"Tie it on the tree so it can dissipate."
"You must've gotten something good. You're holding onto it," Mashita said. He reached to leave his fortune in the trees, which were filled with other unfavorable fortunes, like decorations all tied up there. White and fluttering in the breeze.
He'd gotten a love fortune. He slipped it in his pocket.
Many people passed them in colorful kimonos and striking hakama. Neither had dressed up. So they were, as some of his fellow companions put it--two sullen middle aged men in slightly rumpled old suits. Neither had shaved in the morning, and Mashita had a slight stubble.
Yashiki rather liked how the roughness would be against his cheek when he leaned in for a kiss, and how rugged it made Mashita look.
Of course, Mashita never let his stubble grow too much. Soon enough he'd be cleanshaven again.
"You ready for breakfast?"
"Sure," Mashita said.
Mashita didn't look at Yashiki as he spoke.
"It wasn't that bad, spending time with you. I might do it again. Who knows...I might even look forward to this damned celebration if I can spend it with you every year."
Mashita's face was a snarl. "New resolution. I say one nice thing a year. And that was the only nice thing you're getting all year."
New year's resolutions were another thing Mashita didn't care for. He thought the ritual silly. To only make a resolution at the immediacy of the first of the year, then forget it by February.
"I'd like that," Yashiki said.
Mashita was quiet. He always seemed to be suspicious of any affection, but he'd finally begun to accept it from Yashiki.
It didn't mean he wouldn't have some comeback for it. It was Mashita, after all.
"You old sap," Mashita muttered.
They headed back home. Another whole year they'd spend together, purifying spirits and helping people. Getting food and bickering, occasionally. And being curled up in bed together as Mashita slowly opened up to him a little more every year.
