Ways to piss off an Italian
Alternatively three ways to cartoonishly piss off an Italian
Hazbin hotel x reader [Platonic]
Warnings:
Italian stereotypes, just jokin' around this is all in good fun! I put an Imp OC of mine in as the reader assistant! She just pops in and out to stir things up! Reader's learning to cook other types of food because they've hadn't had to cook for themselves in ages they just had others do it. Ending is a little off but we don't talk about that I finished this at 6 am I need sleep, Angel isn't that pissed mostly dismayed
Good evening folks! This is a side story with Eldritch horror reader and Angel dust because he's Italian, this is somewhat inspired by my own bit of how my younger self made it her mission to piss off Italians because of that Italian TikTok duo back in 2020-2021 [???] She did not succeed as she did not know any Italians and all she did was eat spaghetti noodles with anything but a fork.
this is also the 100 followers special! Now at the time of posting we are FAR past that at 207! but better late then never! Thank you so much for the support, I genuinely did not think this many folks would like my silly little writings, I adore getting y'all's requests, comments, and just appearing in my inbox genuinely it makes my day thank you! And I hope you enjoy!
Angel Dust took great pride in his Italian heritage and culture, as he was truly Italian.
Unfortunately he lived with a centuries old Eldritch horror who may or may not have lived in Europe during the bubonic plague and didn't understand the more "modern'' Italian or Italy at all, and others that didn't understand the "sacredness" of the Italians.
🍝The spaghetti.🍝
You took over cooking in the hotel, you and Alastor had begun fighting over the kitchen, whoever got there first got to cook and today, you were victorious.
You were exploring new recipes you had thus far made spicy tteokbokki and Korean corn dogs, some type of curry that was sonic blue, teriyaki chicken, hummus and other things! You experimented with different flavors, seasonings,
These tasty things would've ended you if you ate it back when you were alive and not dying of the bubonic plague.
Anyways, you decided to give making spaghetti a try because you were in the mood for something fairly easy to make.
As you perused the recipe book while humming along to the songs playing from Alastor's radio show, you nodded noting down the ingredients before pulling out the phone that the little Imp that worked for you had bought you insisting you should have one to contact her instead of hunting her down at random and dragging her away.
You squinted as you scrolled through the few contacts you had until you reached said imp's phone number and slowly texted her a barrage of ingredients to buy.
Cece carefully opened the hotel doors and skittered over to the kitchen, having memorized the route since she delivered ingredients to you almost daily at this point.
You grinned as you took the ingredients from Cece's hands turning around to place them on the counter while she pulled up a chair and sat down waiting for the inevitable "Dear Cece can you cut this" or "Dear Cece can you stir this"
You washed off the tomatoes before slicing in an x and blanching them, you peeled the tomatoes after and diced them up before putting them aside to cut up yellow onions, you gathered them up and placed them into a pan, sprinkling in salt to unleashed the onion liquids and sweetness.
You added in some prechopped garlic and let it saute.
While that was happening you took the tomatoes and crushed them, once done you combined the tomatoes with the rest letting it simmer.
You added other components like herbs, basil and a little olive old at the end just for fun.
You filled up another pot with water to boil, sprinkling a twinge of salt and stirring it in.
You brushed your hands on your apron, as you scooted around to find the box of spaghetti noodles, grinning you opened it and take out the pasta.
It was at this unfortunate moment Angel dust decided to waltz on into the kitchen, intending to see what was for dinner and maybe snag something to munch on, you held the dry pasta over the pot, both hands gripping the ends
"Hey tentacles, what's for- WHAT THE FUCK!''
"Good evening Dearest Angel! I'm making spaghetti!"
You said unfazed as the pasta snapped in half and dropped into the pot as Angel dust watched in pure horror.
"Why would you do that?!" Angel asked, his voice pitched as he asked arms gesturing to the pot of sad broken pasta boiling away.
"Make spaghetti? I didn't think it was such a controversial meal"
"No! You broke the pasta! That's like the biggest sin ya can do! What is wrong with ya?"
"We're already in hell, I don't think sins matter much here," Cece popped in, you jumped slightly forgetting the imp was there.
"They do when it comes to' fuckin' pasta toots!"
Angel dust shouted before promptly turning around and leaving the kitchen, leaving you completely confused and Cece amused, unfortunately her amusement turned into irritation as you asked her to grab the ground beef and roll it into balls so you could cook them because meatballs.
During dinner time your spaghetti was a hit!
Charlie complimented your cooking saying you outdid yourself while Vaggie was grabbing a second serving, Sir Pentious enjoyed slurping up the noodles, Niffty kept stabbing the meatballs foe whatever reason, Husk seemed to enjoy the meal however Angel dust had one pair of arms crossed while he reluctantly ate, it was good he could admit but he knew the sin that you had committed while cooking, he knew that innocent pasta had been broken.
Angel dust almost died a second time when he walked into the kitchen later that night for a midnight snack and witnessed a probably drunk Husk eating leftover spaghetti pasta with ketchup because the sauce you had made was on a higher shelf in the refrigerator and he didn't feel like climbing.
🍕 pineapple pizza time.🍕
You and Alastor had... For lack of better words got into a little fight over the kitchen, tentacles, shadows, mild mind control and other things were used until Vaggie stepped in and separated the two of you,
It was decided that pizza would be ordered for the hotel, much to Alastor's disapproval.
Cheese, pepperoni, pineapple and ham, and supreme were the pizzas ordered unbeknownst to Angel dust since he was coming back to the hotel from a hangout with Cherri.
"Angel! Welcome back we ordered pizza!" Charlie said waving the spider over as Vaggie placed the pizza boxes onto the table.
"Great! I'm starvin'!" Angel walked over just in time to see the box containing pineapple pizza opened up.
"Nevermind I'll starve."
"We have other pizzas Angel."
Vaggie did not get paid enough to deal with this, she didn't even get paid!
Angel dust was extremely disappointed in you, you were the one to suggest getting pineapple pizza because you quote, "Never had it before and wanted to try it",
You were well over a few centuries old, you weren't a child, you had gone to hell and become an overlord that rained terror for a couple of years and therefore you should've been able to tell that pineapple on pizza was a crime against humanity, so what if pizza wasn't a thing during your time, it was a thing that came to be while you were down here!
He had later lectured you about it, it was amusing to you! You were a feared overlord and yet this little Italian guy had the gull to lecture you, this was normal in families right? To not be afraid of each other? How wonderful!
The lecture eventually switched over to Husk who was eating pizzas folded which was just weird because he was just tasting the crust! What about the cheese? The sauce? THE SAUCE HUSK? DO YOU NOT TASTE IT?
Husk was too sober for the lecture, Alastor found it amusing though.
🇮🇹Italian PowerPoint presentation 🇮🇹
"Alright tentacles, we're havin' a intervention!" Angel dust said throwing his hands down on the coffee table as you sipped something from a teacup, probably tea.
"Is what you dragged us here for? This shit?"
Husk was here, how did he always get dragged into these things? Niffty was beside him trying to stab a roach, Charlie and Vaggie were out of the hotel, Alastor was hell knew where, probably doing radio stuff and Angel dust had somehow tracked down your assistant and dragged her there.
"Oh! Whatever for dearie?" You asked head tilted as you placed your cup on the table,
"You've committed so many fuckin' crimes in the past week! Ya' broke the pasta before puttin' it in the pot! Ya' put cream in the carbonara! Ya ate pineapple on pizza, I get we're in hell but are ya fuckin' kiddin' me?-" Angel moved his arms around to empathize his point "Not to mention that little fusion stunt, ya' deranged octopus!"
You hummed thinking about the meals you've made recently before responding, "I don't think I made anything bad?"
"You decided to put tomato sauce, cheese and pepperoni on cooked ramen and stuck it in da' oven and ate it."
"It wasn't as good as the little people on the interwebs said."
"OF COURSE IT WASN'T GOOD IT WAS A CRIME! IT CAME OUT OF THE DEEPS OF HELL."
"Eh, it wasn't that bad" Cece popped in to stir the pot, Angel slowly turned around becoming slightly more spidery
"The fuck did ya just say?"
Cece shrugged, "Food's expensive and I need to eat."
Cece was picked up and thrown on the couch with you as Angel dust set up a PowerPoint presentation about the history of Italian food and whatever else, You did not want to be here you'd rather be drinking your drink in peace, Husk didn't want to be here he'd rather be drinking, your hellborn imp assistant didn't want to be here, she's never going to Italy she didn't need to know this and Niffty, well she's still stabbing things on the floor.
By the time Charlie and Vaggie returned you had zoned out completely and your mind was elsewhere, Niffty was napping on your shoulder, Cece had escaped by asking Angel if garlic bread was Italian and while he went on that tangent she ran out abandoning everyone.
Husk was more dead inside then per usual, he wasn't paid enough for this, the first hour was fine but this had been going on for five hours at this point, how did Angel dust manage to drag this PowerPoint presentation out so long?
Vaggie shut it down after it was realized that you weren't responding and they thought you had somehow died,
You did not die and you eventually snapped out of it when a white cloth was put over you in order to hide the body.
Good evening folks! Thank you for turning on in! I hope you enjoyed, my apologies for taking forever to get this out, if your wondering why it feels like there's a missing gap that's because I wrote a whole lil' thing of reader and Alastor combining forces to annoy Angel and I accidentally deleted it.
I'm gonna rewrite it eventually and add it to a different fic with Eldritch horror reader, also If your wondering why I have an imp OC in here there is a reason with Eldritch horror and their family complex you'll see eventually
I'll be getting the readers backstory which will be the 200 follower special out [hopefully] soon so tune on in for that! Thank you again have a wonderful day!
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Seven Swipes for Shirayuki, Chapter 5
[Read on AO3]
Obiyuki Trope Madness 2023, Semifinal #1: Bodyguard Crush
It’s not quite a scowl that scrunches the space between Ryuu’s eyebrows, but it’s a kissing cousin; frustration and fondness stirred together to make a cocktail of expression uniquely for her as he stares down at the request.
“She’s ten weeks.” His thumb idly taps the screen, thoughtful. “She’s already had one by now.”
“And she’s due to have one again at twelve, I know, but--” Shirayuki leans over his shoulder, tapping at the line that reads Hyperemesis Gravidarum: Active-- “you and I both know what this means.”
“One sac at seven weeks, one heartbeat.” A sigh saws out of him, his patience worn as thin as his sleeves at the elbow. “I know statistics too.”
“Seven week ultrasounds are notoriously inaccurate,” she scoffs, shifting her wait for the long haul. “There’s a reason half the doctors here don’t bother unless there’s complications. It’s fine enough to date a pregnancy, but even then...”
It’s impossible not to know the reputation Ryuu’s made himself in the ward-- a hardass, Obi’s so quick to remind her, proud-- but Shirayuki never really remembers it. At least, not until his shoulders set as stiff as the mattresses, expression as forbidden as any Haruka’s fixed on her. “Shirayuki--”
“You know I’m not implying technician error.” Not due to lack of skill, at least, though she doesn’t think he’d appreciate the distinction. “But pregnancy isn’t simple. There’s plenty of ways even the best tech could have missed something that early.”
He stares at her, an unmovable object. “I wouldn’t know.”
Good thing she’s got practice being an unstoppable force. “What could it hurt?”
“Nothing,” he admits, too easily. “Except that she had her last sonogram here. If I order another, I would be directly overturning the opinion of the last technician.”
“Ryuu.” Her hands hook on her hips, taking a breath to blunt her impatience. “We’re all professionals here. No one is going to take it personally if you check their work due to new information.”
He might an adult now, old enough to buy his own drinks at hospital happy hour, but his pout-- even as he tries to hide it behind the monitor-- is all teenager. “You can’t promise that. People are very erratic. The last thing I want to do is make enemies of--”
His train of thought stops dead on the track, attention fixed to a singular point on the screen.
“Never mind,” he says, opening the order. “I’ll do it.”
Shirayuki blinks. “Are you sure?”
“Sure,” he agrees, closing out the screen. “The queue’s full this morning, but I’ll see if someone can fit her in around the scheduled patients.”
“Ah, right, of course.” She grasps for something to say, something that isn’t what changed your mind, and settles on, “Thank you.”
He glances over the screen, mouth still stretched thin. “If it’s one sac, you won’t ask me again, right?”
“Er...” Shirayuki’s stared down deans and hospital board members alike, but Ryuu’s tone makes her falter, left-footed in face of his displeasure. That is, until his mouth twitches, straining against the angle of a smile.
“Right,” she says, flushed with pride. “I promise I’m not wasting your time, doctor.”
Ryuu ducks his head, making a show of crossing his t’s and dotting his i’s, but through that thick morass of curls, the tips of his ears are stained a painful pink. “Well, y-you don’t have to call me that.”
Ryuu’s hardly out of sight when Higata whistles, eyebrows hovering just under his hairline.“Well, well. Been a while since I’ve seen the Rules Lawyer handled so quick.”
Shirayuki’s not in the habit of scolding on the floor, but she clucks her tongue, disappointed. “That’s not fair. You know Ryuu just wants to be taken seriously. It’s hard to be the Attending when you’re practically the same age as the interns.”
“Of course I do.” All her worries are shunted off with a wave of his hand, someone else’s problem. “I’m just saying, he’s not going to make any friends if his back’s always up like that.”
Kazaha surfaces in her mind, unbidden. “Ah, yeah, that’s...possible.”
Higata hums at the precise pitch of mischief. “I wonder what made him change his tune, though? You know how he gets about imaging. Never likes to overturn anyone’s work.”
A dozen reasons crowd her mind: His best friend is a tech, and no one gives him any respect. He nearly mastered out of his degree entirely to join imaging so he could deal with computers instead of patients. He’s only here because Kirito told him he’d like to work under a doctor like him--
But logic turns to excuse the minute it leaves the mouth. Shirayuki knows that all too well.
“Let me just..” A few keystrokes-- and an interminable wait-- and Higata’s eyes bulge. “Oh.”
“Hm?” She leans over the station, craning her neck to get a glimpse. It’s the ultrasound, one sac and the barely-there beginnings of a baby, but more importantly:
Technician, it reads, Sisk, M.
She grimaces. “Ah.”
“Yeah, that’d do it.” A few more keystrokes, and it’s gone, Higata shooing her back patient-side. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this goes through before I’m out the door. Whoever I hand the baton off to will make sure to sit on imaging until they send someone up. Last thing we need is the CEO of this place raising a stink.”
“Oh, there’s no need to--” Shirayuki blinks, blearily watching as he goes through the motions she used to know so well. “You’re on nights.”
He hikes his brows at her, the way he always did when she’d been on shift too long; a silent, maybe you should be using the on-call room.
“Ah, right, you’ve been with me...the whole night...” she murmurs, wishing she had enough sleep for that to be an inside thought. “And if Ryuu’s here...as the day shift...then...”
“Then that means you’ll probably miss me, so long as America’s Sweetheart can keep some crackers down.” There’s no one who can wear mischief the way Obi does, like it’s a design suit tailored to fit every curve, but when Higata glances up from his station, a corner of his mouth quirked-- he comes close. “Unless she’s impressed by my dedication and debonair smile. Then maybe we might be coworkers again.”
Her own smile takes a similar slant. “That’s not a bad idea. I could use another set of hands. And I’m pretty sure that pool house could fit half the ward.”
Higata snorts, shaking his head. “Don’t let that mutt of yours hear that. He’ll be giving me grief for weeks about elbowing in on your love nest.”
She knows all it does is muddy the high ground, but Shirayuki’s been up too many consecutive hours to even try to stifle her sigh. “That isn’t what it’s like between me and--”
“It’d be nice to get back on days,” he murmurs wistfully, ignoring her. Typical. “The quiet’s nice, sure, but it’s hell on the social life.”
“Oh?” It’d never been easy to give up her daylight hours, especially when she’d lived at a latitude where she could get to her shift when the sun went down and still have night to burn twelve hours later. But socially...? “Are they?”
Higata stares at her, the way Obi does when she mentions she’s never seen a Marvel movie. “Shirayuki, are you--?” He shakes his head. “Right, of course. You probably wouldn’t have noticed with that VIP you were dating. Guys like him don’t wake up before noon.”
It’s habit to get her hackles up, to mount a high horse and ride to his defense. All her excuses marshal themselves in her mouth, ready to deploy at first breath: celebrities have a different schedule, most of their days don’t really start until after six, it’s hard to balance a nine-to-five company with a position that relies on hobnobbing after hours--
But she swallows them down, trying not to taste the bitter. That’s not her job not anymore.
And clearly, a voice that sounds far to wry to be her own hums in her ears, the left hand never really knew what the right was doing anyway, hm?
“Guess it’s good you make your own hours now, Ms. Private Practice.” Higata’s brows waggled far too suggestively. “You’ll need to be keeping the same hours as the rest of the plebs if you’re going back into the dating pool.”
There’s too much to take in there, too much that makes the static in her brain sound like screaming, and all she can do is blurt out, “Doctor.”
“Oh, forgive me,” he drawls. “Doctor Private Practice.”
Her problem is typically too many words, all of them trying to jostle out her mouth at once, but right now--
Right now, they’ve all abandoned her.
“I just...” She licks her lips; just one night of recycled air and already they dried, ready to crack. “Did I say I was going to...to be dating again? Or did someone else--?”
“Nah. You’re just a cute girl in a city with the largest amount of singles per mile. I figured you’d just jump back in the pool.” He slants her a sly look. “I mean, after the way you handled 2203 a few weeks, I figured...”
(”Good morning!” Shirayuki hums as she reaches for the chart. A the corner of the screen, the time flashes: 3:31, too early. “Technically. I’m Dr. Lyon, the OB on shift tonight. Can I just get your name and date of birth?”
“Amaryllis Elise.” The girl practically blends in with the sheets, her knuckles clenched so tight over her belly Shirayuki could use them for anatomy models. “April fifth, 1999.”
Shirayuki tries not to choke. Ninety-nine. The chart said the patient was twenty-four, but, ah, she hadn’t know they made twenty-four so young nowadays.
“Is this your first baby?” she asks, keying in her login. The monitor spikes as she types, BPM 120 flashing on the screen, poised like a breath before a scream. With practiced flick of the wrist, she mutes it before it starts. An alarm’s the last thing this girls needs going off right now. “Are you nervous?”
“It’s just-- is everything okay?” Fear makes her eyes wide and watery, flinching as Shirayuki’s fingers key in her data. “I had...there was some blood, right after they found the heartbeat, but they told me that was normal. But now it’s the third trimester, and that’s-- that’s bad right? Something’s wrong.”
The monitor spikes up to 125. Somewhere done the hall, the nurse’s station blares with it. That’s the worst part of being patient-side, really: no privacy.
“Not necessarily.” With a few short strokes, the wait list for imaging rolls across the screen. NEXT IN QUEUE: 2203, it promises. Cold comfort, when every minute without answers would be agony. “Most pregnancies that make it to third term are going to make it all the way to full.”
“But it’s so much blood.” The girl practically disappears beneath that johnny, her voice so small she can hardly hear it over the ward’s mechanical hum. “Did I do something wrong? I thought...I was being so careful. I don’t even eat deli meats...”
It’s hard to toe the line between lie and comfort; Kazaha would tell her, just say what they want to hear, it’s better then them getting hysterical on you. He’s backed up by a set of guidelines as thick as her wrist, all advising that she prioritize keeping the patient calm over keeping the patient informed, right down to suggesting it’s kinder to suggest a chemical pregnancy over a miscarriage.
Sometimes, Opa would tell her, tinkering with the old Ford in the garage, people think so much about what’s easy and safe, they forget it can be cruel.
Shirayuki pulls her hands from the keyboard, fixing her gaze right to where the girl lays huddled in the bed. “It’s always scary to see blood. And it’s even scarier because it’s taken so seriously, especially this late in the game, right?”
She nods, her hair getting even more tangled on the pillow.
“But the truth is, there’s so much that could be going on in there, and most of it just means we has to reassess our timetable for your pregnancy.” It’s Oma that Shirayuki summons up now, hoping her smile radiates even a fraction of the warmth she remembers. “I know you can’t help but worry, but I promise: it’s far more likely that you’ll both be fine.”
The girl considers that, fingers splayed over her belly. “But someone has to be unlucky, don’t they? That’s how statistics work.”
Shirayuki smothers a frown. “Did you say you has someone coming? Your--” she glances over at the screen-- “boyfriend?”
“No.” She shrinks under the sheets, looking younger by the second. “He doesn’t have enough PTO to cover something like this and still be at the birth. And my mom--” she grimaces-- “my mom would not be helpful right now.”
“Then here.” The rooms in this ward are huge, private, and thankfully full to the brim with comfy chairs. Shirayuki steps out, hooking ankle around one to catch her as she sits. “I’ll wait with you.”
The girl goes bloodless. “Oh, god. That’s bad, isn’t it?”
Shiaryuki blinks. “Excuse me?”
“You want to wait with me.” A trembling hand drapes over her ashen face. “That means you think I’m going to lose the baby, right? That’s it’s something so terrible, I can’t be--”
“No! No.” A laugh escapes her, breathless. “That’s not it at all. I just...I know when I’m left waiting, I convince myself of all sorts of terrible things. When I was doing my rotation in Infectious Disease, I coughed in the shower and convinced myself I had pertussis for the whole night.”
There’s no hint the girl’s heard her, but her BPM drops, just a bit.
“That’s the worst part about being a doctor,” Shirayuki confides, leaning close. “You know all the things that can go wrong.”
Beneath her hand, there’s the faintest hint of a smile. “I just have an over-active imagination and WebMD.”
Shirayuki lets herself take a page out of Obi’s book, letting half her mouth slant into a rueful grin. “Lucky.”
The smallest, thinnest giggle spools out of the girl, there and gone before she knows it.
“But seriously,” she says, letting her smile rest at its usual angles. “There’s no secret hint that’s something wrong. I promise, I’m only here because I don’t have anything better to do, and I hate waiting alone.”)
“2203?” Shirayuki frowns, confused. “What does that have to do w-with dating?”
Higata sighs, stretching as he gets to his feet. “I’m not talking about dating. I’m talking about the other stuff. That you, you know, could have some of that in the cards for you.”
It’s not often that she experiences déjà vu, and certainly not for a phrase like, “Having a luteal cyst?”
Obi’s typically the on on the other end of Higata flattest, most unimpressed glares, but today he saves one just for her. “Let’s be real, Shirayuki. Statistics say you’ve already had one.”
Ah, well. He does have her there.
Higata waves his hand, annoyed. “But I’m not talking about that. I meant the other thing.”
She blinks. “What other thing?”
“Oh, c’mon, Shirayuki,” he sighs. “The baby.”
(The girl nods. “Do you...do you think it’s okay? The baby, I mean.”
Shirayuki takes a deep breath. “I think you’ve done the right thing, coming here. And that’s all you can expect yourself to do.”
There’s a little more color in her now, no longer stark white but an ashen sort of tan. “Do you have kids?”
It’s hardly the first time she’s been asked, but still, it catches her left-footed. “Ah, no. Not right now. I’m not-- it hasn’t been the right time.”
Between medical school, family death, residency, and Izana, there’s barely been time to breathe, let alone think about something like-- like that, but that’s hardly something she needs to bring up with a patient. Especially when Obi could be lurking around the corner, ready to seize on any tender feeling and discuss it down to the bones.
“Oh.” Dark eyes round, pretty now that they’re not glassy with fear. “You’re so good at this, I would have guessed you had a bunch. You’re like, mom-material. You know, warm, I guess.”
Now it’s time for Shirayuki to stare, her hands limp where they lay on her lap.
“T-thank you.” It’s silly how much it means to her, being warm. That even for one minute, someone could feel about her the way she does about Oma. “I’d like to, probably. Maybe in a couple years, it’d be nice...”)
There’s no reason for that to make her flush, for her to feel like she’s stripped her naked on the maternity floor. But she does, crossing her arms over her chest as she murmurs, “I m-meant if Zen and I-- if we ever--”
She shakes herself. “I don’t need to date for that anyway! I could just adopt. Or do IVF if I could get the time off.”
Higata huffs, brows lifting straight to his hairline. “Or you could look around and see there’s a perfect sperm donor right--”
“Hey, Miss.” A paper cup slips into her hand, warm where it’s cradled between her palms. She barely has time to appreciate it before Obi slides up to the nurse station, splaying an arm across it like he owns the place. “Hello, nurse.”
Ah, there’s a flat look. “Oh, you’re still here.”
Obi presses a hand to his chest, rumpling the silk tie hung loose around his neck. Framed by his fingers like it is, it’s impossible not to notice the dubiously professional amount of tentacles on it. A gift from Suzu, if she was going to risk a guess. “As if I’d stray from Miss’s side.”
Higata’s mouth quivers. “Well I suppose if you’ve got to have a dog, it might as well be a loyal one.”
“Woof woof,” Obi agrees with a grin, and honestly, she’ll never quite understand how stand around and insult each other is the basis for a friendship, but somehow these two have made it work despite six years and three thousand miles between them. “Heading out already?”
“Turns out there is sleep for the wicked, so long as they’re unionized.” Higata leans down to close out his station, tension falling from him with a sigh. “I just have to get through shift changeover, and then I’m out. I better not see hide nor hair of either of you when I get back tonight.”
“No problem,” Obi promises. “I plan to wear out our welcome by noon.”
Higata’s barely turned the corner when Obi leans in, grinning as he tells her, “Eighteen.”
Shirayuki blinks. “What?”
“Eighteen,” he repeats giddily. “That’s the number of hours you’ve been a free agent.”
It takes her a whole minute to parse his meaning, staring into his broad teeth the entire time. Goodness, she really needs to check out the on-call. “I already told you, that was over a week ago.”
“Sure, sure.” He waves a hand, unconvinced. “Whatever you say, Miss.”
Most days, she would happily admit to enjoying her bodyguard’s company, but today-- well, if she has to go through another round of assessing how daddy anyone in her acquaintance is, today will not be one of them. “If you don’t believe me, I don’t know why--”
“I do.” He says it earnestly enough that it draws her up short. “But the timing’s not the point though.”
“It’s not?”
“No. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been.” She’s almost touched, until he yanks his phone out of his pocket, brandishing it menacingly. “It’s time for you to rebound.”
“Oh.” She squints, recognizing the logo before her eyes can parse the word. “T...inder?”
That grin of his widens, just an inch short of being Cheshire.
“Oh! You-- you kept that?”
He scoffs, one finger flicking across the page. “What, like I would delete this carefully crafted profile? Painstakingly created by yours truly, just for such an august occasion--?”
“You should have,” she squeaks, heat flooding her face. To think, he kept that all these years-- “Give that to me!”
Her hand snaps out, trying to knock it from his loose grip, but even with the element of surprise, Obi’s too quick for her. With the sort of grace only cats and former hitmen have, he slides it right out from under her fingers, hovering barely an inch away.
“Now, Miss,” he admonishes, his grin giving away that he loves the chase. “That’s not very nice.”
She leaps again, stepping so close her shoulder bumps into his sternum, but this time he lifts it, giving the phone a little wiggle above his head. “I was in a-- a relationship! What if Zen had found--?”
“Then I think the bigger question would be why bossman was--”
She jumps, fingers just brushing the bottom of the case, but it’s too high. And when she comes back down, well--
Obi’s arm clenches around her waist, holding her steady. “Careful there, Miss,” he breathes, wide-eyed. “Last thing I need to explain to His Majesty is why Doctor Humpty Dumpty can’t put his personal physician back together again.”
Braced against his chest, she can feel his heart race beneath her palm. “Fine. But you’ll delete that won’t you?”
The weight slung around her waist disappears as if it was never there in the first place. “Aw, but why? This is the perfect time to--”
“Ah.” A soft, masculine cough cuts through Obi’s theatrics. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I just, er...”
Shirayuki looks up, right into a dark pair of eyes that would be right at home on a golden retriever. An anxious one. “Oh, I’m sorry, can I help you?”
“Ah, yes, I was just wondering...” He can’t be much older than her-- the perfect first-time dad age, Obi had said once, mostly to needle her-- his hair blond and tousled the way everyone’s is out here. “My father was checked in here last night.”
“Your father?” A nurse wheels a woman behind him, belly so distended Shirayuki’s half afraid she’ll tip right out. “Here?”
“Ah, yeah, I think I wrote down the wrong room number?” His fingers tremble where they splay on the desk, like he’s trying his hardest not to drum them. “Do you think you could, um...?”
That’s, apparently, all the words he has. They just run out as he stands there, his mouth still moving but only air coming out.
With this little sleep, she has to admit, it’s kind of charming. “I’m not the nurse, but--”
“Oh!” A flush flares at the collar of his v-neck. “Oh, sorry, I just assumed, since you were here... and the scrubs...?”
She catches her laugh before it can escape containment. “No, no. I’m a doctor.”
“Oh,” he moans, mortified. “I’m sorry. That was-- I’m really-- ugh--”
“Not here though. Private.” If she were Obi she’d lean in a little, giving him a sly wink, but instead she settles on her warmest smile. “But I do know some people on the inside. Let me get someone to look that up for you.”
“Ah...” On anyone else, that toss of his hair would seem confident, but on him it’s just nervous, like a horse after a lightning strike. “That’s really...I mean, that would be great. Thank you.”
It’s an effort not to giggle, but she manages to ask, “Name?”
“Oh!” He clears his throat, blush working its way up to his ears. “It’s, um. Yuuta.”
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