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KHR Rarepair Week Mist: Shameless Flirting
Shoichi is pretty sure that if one more woman tries to bat her eyelashes at him, he is going to just build a bomb and take out the entire Millefiore base with it. The base, himself, and Byakuran too. That can be the run for this timeline. It'll suck, disappointing Vongola Decimo, but you know what? He's done with it. He's done!
"Most other people would be over the moon that attractive women are coming onto them at fancy parties where they could shoot a person in public and get away with it," one of his subordinates points out when he grouses about this. (Not, you know, the whole thing, but the general gist of he's getting tired of this.) "Like, money, power, and pretty women. Isn't that every guy's dream? What's there to worry about, boss?"
Passing by them, a server holds a tray up high filled with a variety of little champagne flutes that glitter in the light. Shoichi eyes each delicate glass, although he knows it would be a terrible idea. Getting drunk is for overconfident idiots.
Shoichi would really like to think he's not a complete idiot despite the overwhelming odds that are against him in literally every lifetime, and those same overwhelming odds are exactly why he can't afford to be overconfident. He'll keep his wits and sobriety with him, thanks. So, tempting as it would be, he doesn't grab a glass, and instead just sighs as he works through some of the fun little bite-sized snacks they've been passing around on other trays held up very high. "Keeping the power means being pretty careful of both money and pretty women," he says dryly. "You know, I never dated anybody all throughout my entire high school life?"
"You know, I'd say that's pretty surprising, boss, but that sounds about right for a guy like you. I bet you were a nerd type even all the way back then."
"Hey, shut up," he says, because that makes it sound more like the truth, and it's not like that would have been wholly wrong, he thinks. Then again, he also has never really known. In the one other life that he can recall, he was too obsessed with trying to find a way to break the timeline, free the universes, and he was ever since he was a teenager plagued by knowledge of the future.
And in this life... Well, in this life, he's pretty much the same, he has to miserably confess. Maybe, in another life... No, who is he kidding.
The next life is going to be just as messed up as this one.
A thing with stuffed dates passes him by, and he makes sure to grab at least a couple plates for his person before he continues talking. "Anyway, what I'm saying is that I know my own deal, alright?" he says, shoving a date into his mouth to tuck into the pocket of his mouth so that he can keep talking. It's not pretty, it's not clearly enunciated, but hey. Maybe that will get him out of some other conversations if anyone else comes looking. Probably not. Still, a guy can dream. "No one is coming onto me because they think I'm ruggedly handsome, and no one is coming onto me because they want to talk shop with me. It's a nightmare filled with social interaction I could be passing on."
"Should you be saying that so bluntly when we're at a party like this?"
Probably not. Regardless. "Anyone close enough to hear my complaining is going to pick up on me knowing that anyway," is what he says with a careless shrug, and finally actually bothers chewing on the date. He can't just let it stagnate there in his mouth until it somehow grows a whole new life form. "Besides. Maybe if they know that much, they'll finally get the hint, and choose a different method. If I have to keep dealing with this sort of shameless flirting, then I think I should at least get hazard pay and, if not hazard pay, then at least more interesting attempts to woo me into divulging Millefiore secrets..."
That's around the time he trails off with his complaining, because he realizes that the guy he's with has stopped even so much as nodding along to what he's saying. Realizes that his skin has gone white as hell, and his eyes are wide, and oh goddammit.
Shoichi can't muster up that same sort of fear, although maybe it would be better for him if he could. Or maybe it'd be worse for the long term. Either way, he is what he is, and what he is as he turns around is tired as hell. "Byakuran, do you have to show up right behind me at parties like this?"
The thing about Byakuran is that he's always kind of smiling. Of course, there are people who really are like that. Customer service workers, for one thing, who have to do it so much that it takes up way too much of their lives and at some point for some of them just becomes a kind of wretched habit in the face of overwhelming stress and shitty interpersonal clashes. But Byakuran doesn't smile like that. There's no real muscle to it, if that makes any sense. It's effortless, which means he ultimately doesn't care too much. Not about the things that happen around him, at least, and... well, Shoichi guesses that makes sense.
It's just a problem because it's so damn unnerving, especially, you know, to low level grunts who just showed up to be some engineer's bodyguard at this fancy shindig where he almost doesn't really need a bodyguard because who'd go up against this guy's influence? (Alright, so maybe Shoichi is more than just an engineer at this point.)
There's really no surprise, with that in mind, that the poor sap who's been following him along here suddenly stammers out some sort of excuse - it barely makes sense, Shoichi isn't really listening - and then he's gone. Byakuran doesn't even look after him to see where he's gone. "Ha ha, but at a party, doesn't that sort of thing just happen all the time?" he points out, which is sort of true but also has nothing to do with anything here. "It sure sounds like you don't care for these kind of parties, Sho-chan~. And here I went through the trouble of making sure they sent an invitation to you instead of just me alone!"
Shoichi wonders if that's true. He wonders if maybe it's at least half-true, and half-lies, and dashes of exaggeration for good measure. The problem with Byakuran is that you have to think about these things. The problem with Byakuran is that there are a lot of problems.
Not that he tells him these kinds of things. Obviously.
What he does instead is roll his eyes a bit, because both of them know this: "I'd rather be doing my work. As you heard me complain about."
"Ha ha, that's my Sho-chan! So industrious. But I guess genius doesn't mean anything if there's no drive behind it, right?" Byakuran claps his hands together, as though he's genuinely delighted about this. Maybe he is? Maybe only so much as someone would be delighted by their dog doing a simple trick that any dog should know to do. Shoichi would like to think otherwise, still holds memories from another life (the not-time travel related kind) which make him ache. He'd like to think otherwise, in recognition of their college days. But who knows. All he can do now is watch Byakuran's face as those pale eyes focus on him again. "I thought that maybe some companionship would lighten you up a little bit at the very least~. Take away some stress!"
"You thought it'd be funny to see the expressions I'd make after being hit on," Shoichi says flatly.
"Ha ha, well, that too."
Little blessings; Shoichi is pretty sure at least that's an honest statement. Byakuran is honest about the things he genuinely takes pleasure in. The little things if nothing else. More ambivalent things, things that haven't reached their conclusion? Those are harder. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you could find some other way to torment me on my day off," he grips, scanning everything to see if there's some more appetizers on tray that may come by him any time soon. Honestly, the servers are pretty good here. They tend to pick up what it means when he's scanning around like this.
He's aware, slightly, that Byakuran is doing that thing where he focuses on him. Where his gaze is so focused that it feels almost dizzying as the subject of it, not unlike laying on his back and seeing how frighteningly deep the sky truly is. Shoichi ignores it.... for the most part. He's learned to ignore it. "Mmm, I suppose this method is a bit boring," he concedes.
Shoichi quits trying to telepathically hail a server for a second and glances over at Byakuran wariliy. "It's never a good sign when you actually agree with me that you're bored about something."
Alright, there it is - there's that bright genuine grin of his that somehow feels different, even if Shoichi can never really nail down the exact little detail that makes it honest. "Now that's no way to speak! I was just thinking of a way to make it up to you for getting you involved in this sort of troublesome thing. Maybe I can't keep people from inviting you to these fun little parties-"
"Like you would anyway."
"-but perhaps I can do something that will help make one aspect of them a little bit easier to deal with."
There's a lot of question Shoichi could ask about that, because asking a lot of question is one of the only ways that a guy can get anywhere in this shitty world. Certainly this shitty underworld. Sure, sometimes there's a risk of it bringing some thing down on your head if you're not careful, but being ignorant is a far worse sin in Shoichi's opinion.
He doesn't get so much as a chance to ask one. Not before one of Byakuran's hands is right there brushing along his jaw, so silent and quick that Shoichi has to mentally double check he hasn't blinked. Another question is on his tongue.
Byakuran swallows it up, sweet as anything, sweet as his lips where they're still dusted with sugar from whatever fancy drink he's had, in his kiss.
Deep in his chest, something tightens and flickers and stops acting as flesh and blood should.
With practiced ease, Shoichi grips that untouchable thing until it settles, and waits patiently until Byakuran pulls away with that little self-satisfied grin on his face. "That's your plan?" he asks.
So stupidly perky, Byakuran holds a finger up in the air. "Yup! Now they'll surely stop sending you girls~."
It doesn't even take so much as a week before Shoichi storms past Byakuran's latest secretary, throws open the door, and, with an accusing point, yells, "Now they're just sending MEN!"
"Most other people would be over the moon that attractive women are coming onto them at fancy parties where they could shoot a person in public and get away with it," one of his subordinates points out when he grouses about this. (Not, you know, the whole thing, but the general gist of he's getting tired of this.) "Like, money, power, and pretty women. Isn't that every guy's dream? What's there to worry about, boss?"
Passing by them, a server holds a tray up high filled with a variety of little champagne flutes that glitter in the light. Shoichi eyes each delicate glass, although he knows it would be a terrible idea. Getting drunk is for overconfident idiots.
Shoichi would really like to think he's not a complete idiot despite the overwhelming odds that are against him in literally every lifetime, and those same overwhelming odds are exactly why he can't afford to be overconfident. He'll keep his wits and sobriety with him, thanks. So, tempting as it would be, he doesn't grab a glass, and instead just sighs as he works through some of the fun little bite-sized snacks they've been passing around on other trays held up very high. "Keeping the power means being pretty careful of both money and pretty women," he says dryly. "You know, I never dated anybody all throughout my entire high school life?"
"You know, I'd say that's pretty surprising, boss, but that sounds about right for a guy like you. I bet you were a nerd type even all the way back then."
"Hey, shut up," he says, because that makes it sound more like the truth, and it's not like that would have been wholly wrong, he thinks. Then again, he also has never really known. In the one other life that he can recall, he was too obsessed with trying to find a way to break the timeline, free the universes, and he was ever since he was a teenager plagued by knowledge of the future.
And in this life... Well, in this life, he's pretty much the same, he has to miserably confess. Maybe, in another life... No, who is he kidding.
The next life is going to be just as messed up as this one.
A thing with stuffed dates passes him by, and he makes sure to grab at least a couple plates for his person before he continues talking. "Anyway, what I'm saying is that I know my own deal, alright?" he says, shoving a date into his mouth to tuck into the pocket of his mouth so that he can keep talking. It's not pretty, it's not clearly enunciated, but hey. Maybe that will get him out of some other conversations if anyone else comes looking. Probably not. Still, a guy can dream. "No one is coming onto me because they think I'm ruggedly handsome, and no one is coming onto me because they want to talk shop with me. It's a nightmare filled with social interaction I could be passing on."
"Should you be saying that so bluntly when we're at a party like this?"
Probably not. Regardless. "Anyone close enough to hear my complaining is going to pick up on me knowing that anyway," is what he says with a careless shrug, and finally actually bothers chewing on the date. He can't just let it stagnate there in his mouth until it somehow grows a whole new life form. "Besides. Maybe if they know that much, they'll finally get the hint, and choose a different method. If I have to keep dealing with this sort of shameless flirting, then I think I should at least get hazard pay and, if not hazard pay, then at least more interesting attempts to woo me into divulging Millefiore secrets..."
That's around the time he trails off with his complaining, because he realizes that the guy he's with has stopped even so much as nodding along to what he's saying. Realizes that his skin has gone white as hell, and his eyes are wide, and oh goddammit.
Shoichi can't muster up that same sort of fear, although maybe it would be better for him if he could. Or maybe it'd be worse for the long term. Either way, he is what he is, and what he is as he turns around is tired as hell. "Byakuran, do you have to show up right behind me at parties like this?"
The thing about Byakuran is that he's always kind of smiling. Of course, there are people who really are like that. Customer service workers, for one thing, who have to do it so much that it takes up way too much of their lives and at some point for some of them just becomes a kind of wretched habit in the face of overwhelming stress and shitty interpersonal clashes. But Byakuran doesn't smile like that. There's no real muscle to it, if that makes any sense. It's effortless, which means he ultimately doesn't care too much. Not about the things that happen around him, at least, and... well, Shoichi guesses that makes sense.
It's just a problem because it's so damn unnerving, especially, you know, to low level grunts who just showed up to be some engineer's bodyguard at this fancy shindig where he almost doesn't really need a bodyguard because who'd go up against this guy's influence? (Alright, so maybe Shoichi is more than just an engineer at this point.)
There's really no surprise, with that in mind, that the poor sap who's been following him along here suddenly stammers out some sort of excuse - it barely makes sense, Shoichi isn't really listening - and then he's gone. Byakuran doesn't even look after him to see where he's gone. "Ha ha, but at a party, doesn't that sort of thing just happen all the time?" he points out, which is sort of true but also has nothing to do with anything here. "It sure sounds like you don't care for these kind of parties, Sho-chan~. And here I went through the trouble of making sure they sent an invitation to you instead of just me alone!"
Shoichi wonders if that's true. He wonders if maybe it's at least half-true, and half-lies, and dashes of exaggeration for good measure. The problem with Byakuran is that you have to think about these things. The problem with Byakuran is that there are a lot of problems.
Not that he tells him these kinds of things. Obviously.
What he does instead is roll his eyes a bit, because both of them know this: "I'd rather be doing my work. As you heard me complain about."
"Ha ha, that's my Sho-chan! So industrious. But I guess genius doesn't mean anything if there's no drive behind it, right?" Byakuran claps his hands together, as though he's genuinely delighted about this. Maybe he is? Maybe only so much as someone would be delighted by their dog doing a simple trick that any dog should know to do. Shoichi would like to think otherwise, still holds memories from another life (the not-time travel related kind) which make him ache. He'd like to think otherwise, in recognition of their college days. But who knows. All he can do now is watch Byakuran's face as those pale eyes focus on him again. "I thought that maybe some companionship would lighten you up a little bit at the very least~. Take away some stress!"
"You thought it'd be funny to see the expressions I'd make after being hit on," Shoichi says flatly.
"Ha ha, well, that too."
Little blessings; Shoichi is pretty sure at least that's an honest statement. Byakuran is honest about the things he genuinely takes pleasure in. The little things if nothing else. More ambivalent things, things that haven't reached their conclusion? Those are harder. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you could find some other way to torment me on my day off," he grips, scanning everything to see if there's some more appetizers on tray that may come by him any time soon. Honestly, the servers are pretty good here. They tend to pick up what it means when he's scanning around like this.
He's aware, slightly, that Byakuran is doing that thing where he focuses on him. Where his gaze is so focused that it feels almost dizzying as the subject of it, not unlike laying on his back and seeing how frighteningly deep the sky truly is. Shoichi ignores it.... for the most part. He's learned to ignore it. "Mmm, I suppose this method is a bit boring," he concedes.
Shoichi quits trying to telepathically hail a server for a second and glances over at Byakuran wariliy. "It's never a good sign when you actually agree with me that you're bored about something."
Alright, there it is - there's that bright genuine grin of his that somehow feels different, even if Shoichi can never really nail down the exact little detail that makes it honest. "Now that's no way to speak! I was just thinking of a way to make it up to you for getting you involved in this sort of troublesome thing. Maybe I can't keep people from inviting you to these fun little parties-"
"Like you would anyway."
"-but perhaps I can do something that will help make one aspect of them a little bit easier to deal with."
There's a lot of question Shoichi could ask about that, because asking a lot of question is one of the only ways that a guy can get anywhere in this shitty world. Certainly this shitty underworld. Sure, sometimes there's a risk of it bringing some thing down on your head if you're not careful, but being ignorant is a far worse sin in Shoichi's opinion.
He doesn't get so much as a chance to ask one. Not before one of Byakuran's hands is right there brushing along his jaw, so silent and quick that Shoichi has to mentally double check he hasn't blinked. Another question is on his tongue.
Byakuran swallows it up, sweet as anything, sweet as his lips where they're still dusted with sugar from whatever fancy drink he's had, in his kiss.
Deep in his chest, something tightens and flickers and stops acting as flesh and blood should.
With practiced ease, Shoichi grips that untouchable thing until it settles, and waits patiently until Byakuran pulls away with that little self-satisfied grin on his face. "That's your plan?" he asks.
So stupidly perky, Byakuran holds a finger up in the air. "Yup! Now they'll surely stop sending you girls~."
It doesn't even take so much as a week before Shoichi storms past Byakuran's latest secretary, throws open the door, and, with an accusing point, yells, "Now they're just sending MEN!"