So... through reading another fic, I found a challenge community (31nights) with challenges that actually stoke my creative juices. Therefore I'm sort of challenging myself and going through with it.
(1/31)
Prompt: 8. Tongue
Pairing: Watari/Tatsumi
Rating: PG-13 ish.
Warnings/Comments: Very passive voice, slight lime, and possible spelling/grammatical errors.

Comments, corrections, and/or critiques loved! 3

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An Argument

"The mouth is the source of all disasters."

It was one of Tatsumi's favorite phrases. Mostly because it was true.

That was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place.

It had been a careless comment that had caused Watari to withdraw for the rest of the day to stew in that lab of his. It had been an unintentional slight on Tatsumi's part. The words had simply come out the wrong way, with the wrong tone, not the proper inflection. He realized his mistake half-way through saying it.

Graciously, he had allowed Watari his retreat, wishing that he knew some way to adequately make up for his mistake...

---

That evening--Tatsumi was working late again--Watari showed up at the secretary's office with a stack of paperwork.

He went so far as to explain what each form was about. Tatsumi tried, tactfully, to tell the blond thank you but he knew how each of those forms worked and what their content entailed.

Watari ignored him, and changed his tone.

Tatsumi's eyes narrowed, even though he knew it was punishment, revenge--retribution.

He despised being condescended to. He absolutely loathed it. And that's what Watari was doing to him now.

Tatsumi's lip curled and an uncharacteristically snide comment left him.

Watari appeared stunned, but only for a moment. His eyes had shrunk to narrow slits of gold, heated in anger. In his heart Tatsumi realized he never should have engaged in this battle with Watari. He was too skilled. His words, his sharp tongue...

The barbs the scientist left--sometimes unintentionally--had an unpleasant way of lingering in the mind. The words became something to fill spaces between thoughts on empty evenings when one was alone, or trying to fall asleep.

Tatsumi would not have been surprised if Watari's well-chosen words had left actual cuts. Yet even as they hurt--they incensed as well.

He was standing, voice raised, approaching the other with a predator's measured steps.

Watari--to his credit--did not back down or back away. His counterattack raised in pitch.

It was a very good thing that no one else was in their part of the building, to see them behave like this.

They were almost toe-to-toe, their argument had degenerated to the annoyances they found in each other.

For instance, how Tatsumi could not stand Watari's cavalier attitude towards using coworkers as labrats.

Watari couldn't stand Tatsumi's psychological dependence on money.

Tatsumi didn't like Watari sitting on his desk and giving him coffee.

Watari insinuated that Tatsumi's pointer spent a great deal of quality time up one of the shadow master's orifices.

Tatsumi countered that surely some of those chemicals had addled Watari's brains.

Watari informed the secretary--while they were on the subject--that he didn't like Tatsumi checking to see if he was okay after an explosion.

Tatsumi did no such thing, he was checking damages.

Watari resented his small allotment in the budget for damages.

Tatsumi still didn't like Watari sitting on his desk every morning.

Watari didn't like sitting on it either--and the coffee was just a courtesy to his superior.

Tatsumi hated the cheerful songs Watari would hum at those times. They stayed in his head the rest of the day.

Watari couldn't stand the way Tatsumi obsessively readjusted his glasses.

Tatsumi hated that graceful walk across the breakroom, and that billowing labcoat.

Watari had a strong dislike for the other's small smile that he tried to conceal, whenever it showed.

Tatsumi detested Watari's long, outrageous, flowing locks.

Watari told him that he didn't like Tatsumi's fingers touching his hair.

Tatsumi was affronted that such an accusation would be made. He'd never done any such thing!

Watari charitably pointed out that, at the moment, he was.

...Tatsumi admitted that he hated how it felt between his fingers.

...Well Watari didn't like how close Tatsumi was standing. (Which only caused the other to stand closer.)

Tatsumi hated Watari's mouth--his lips looked too soft when his tongue was so sharp.

Watari pointed out that Tatsumi's mouth was often too hard or firm and had no softness of any kind to offer.

...Somehow the anger had gone. It had all drained away, leaving a very different charge in the air.

They stared at each other for a few moments more--the clock on the wall seemed to have moved far ahead in time.

Pent up frustration and agitation burst forward and expressed itself in the most unlikely way possible--a kiss. A heated melding of mouths, hands desperately pawing, looking for the ideal hold. Their lips separated and came together again and again with the jolt and frequency of an intense thunderstorm.

Clothing was shed in a confused tangle--and Tatsumi was delighted to learn that the tongue that could wound, could also heal. It was as if Watari had gone back over and closed all the wounds he had ever opened.

And it felt incredible, lying on his office floor, with only Watari, his desk, and the night as their only witnesses. To completely surrender to Watari's ministrations...

At some point, Watari stopped what he was doing long enough to ask if their discussion would not be better continued elsewhere.

Tatsumi told him to shut up and put his tongue to better use.

-FIN-