Washing Up (30 Hugs: Heiji/Kazuha)
Apr. 29th, 2007 03:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
candyficsTitle: Washing Up
Fandom: Detective Conan
Theme: #6—oxygen
Pairing: Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.
Summary: There are some chores that Heiji shouldn’t be allowed to do.
“I’m going shopping with Ran-chan and Aoko-chan!” Kazuha called. “I’ll be back later! Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone!”
And with those lovely parting words, the front door slammed shut, signaling her exit.
Still sitting at the table, Heiji grumbled behind his newspaper. Don’t burn the house down, she said. Honestly—what if he dropped dead of a heart attack or something while she was out? And she came back and found him on the floor. Would she be able to live with herself knowing that her last words to her adoring and arguing husband were “Don’t burn the house down”?
What an ahou.
Still, he waited a few minutes to see if she was going to come back. But when the door did not open and no screeching voice invaded his senses, he concluded that she was gone for real. Meaning that he had the house to himself. Translation? Total freedom!
Granted, total freedom usually meant that he grabbed a book (usually an Ellery Queen novel, because Ellery Queen was a million times better than Sherlock Holmes—in your face, Kudo!) and read until he zonked out on the couch to be found by his irritated wife upon her return home. This would usually be followed by a scathing lecture about helping out around the house and his apparent inability to do so.
Well, today he was going to show her! He was going to prove to Kazuha once and for all that he was perfectly capable of doing simple household chores without prodding, nagging, yelling, or destruction of anything valuable.
No matter how much he preferred the book option.
After careful thought, he had decided that doing the laundry was probably his best bet. First of all, Kazuha had remarked the night before that the chore needed to be accomplished within the next couple of days. Secondly, how hard could laundry be? Honestly—put the clothes in the washer, drop in some soap, hit the button, and let ‘er rip. When it goes ding, move wet clothes to the dryer, start that, rinse, lather, repeat until finished. Then just fold and put away.
How hard could it possibly be, anyway?
Everything was already down in the laundry room, ready to rock. He just had to get it running.
Humming tunelessly to himself, he headed on in. “Okay, so first we toss the clothes in.” He grabbed a few things from the hamper and began piling them into the washer. When it looked appropriately full, he looked around. “Soap, soap…soap!” He located the elusive detergent and regarded it thoughtfully. “Hmmm…” He eventually just dumped some in and closed the washing machine door. “There! One load in.” He turned and wandered back towards the living room, feeling inordinately proud of himself. “Sheesh, why didn’t I even do this before? Would get Kazuha off my back…”
Half an hour later, at the sound of the ding, he put down his book and meandered back down to the laundry room…and found himself staring at a pile of very oddly-colored laundry. Strange…he knew for a fact that that particular shirt had been white when it when in the washing machine. Why in the world was it pink now? A rather lovely pink, but…pink!
Heiji pondered it for a minute before deciding that maybe he hadn’t put enough soap in. So he tossed the now multi-colored clothing into the dryer and grabbed the next load. Shoving it into the washing machine, he grabbed the detergent. “So if I put this much in last time…”
And he merrily poured half the bottle into the machine, closed it, and started it.
Still feeling inordinately proud of himself, he decided to pick up a little bit around the house. And Kazuha probably thought she was going to get to chew him out when she got home—well, he’d show her! Honestly, sometimes he thought she enjoyed yelling at him (it was sort of their shtick), so really, in not doing anything, he was theoretically doing her a favor, right?
…it was official, he decided. Their relationship really was too complicated.
Picking up didn’t take too long, and he even went so far as to grab an old towel and do a little dusting. Nothing major, but enough to prove that he could do it without breaking anything. Knocking things over, yes, but nothing got broken.
By the time he’d finished all those other little chores, he heard the washing machine ding again, and so he headed back towards the laundry room with the intent of continuing with this nice little chore.
The sight that met his eyes was not quite what he expected, though.
Heiji stared at the bubbles pouring down the front of the washing machine and swore under his breath in the most colorful language he knew. Now there was this mess to clean up in addition to getting the rest of the laundry done. Great. Just freakin’ peachy.
The house phone picked that moment to ring, and he sprinted to answer it. “Hello?”
“Heiji, it’s me!” Kazuha cheered from the other end. “Ran-chan’s sick, so we’ll be finishing up earlier than we thought we would. Aoko-chan and I are going to finish up and take her home, so I’ll be home in a couple hours, okay? See you soon!”
The call disconnected before he could reply, leaving Heiji to swivel his head between staring at the beeping receiver in his hand, the soap suds bubbling merrily all over the floor, and the pile of formerly-white (now pink) clothes going ‘round and ‘round in the dryer…and wonder how this had gone this wrong, and what exactly he had done to deserve to be this screwed.
-o-
When Kazuha came home two hours later, she half-expected to find the house in shambles and everything in it utterly destroyed. Hell, part of her was fairly certain that she’d be lucky if she came home and found the house still standing, period!
Instead…it was reasonably clean. It wasn’t perfect or anything, but then again, this was Heiji. But even more amazing was the fact that as she walked towards their bedroom, she actually ran into her husband…who was holding a basket of folded laundry.
Heiji froze when he saw her and fidgeted a bit nervously. “Oh—umm, hi!” He was honestly hoping to get at least a few more minutes to finish drying off the floor in the laundry room; it was by the grace of the gods (and the miracle of heavy-duty sponges) that he’d gotten those suds down the drain. And he’d done his best to bury the newly-discolored laundry at the bottom of their drawers or the backs of the closet so it wouldn’t be discovered right away.
Kazuha smiled. “Heiji, you…did laundry?”
“Umm, yeah…” he trailed off; he shifted the laundry basket against his hip and cleared his throat loudly. “I’m not very good at this kinda thing, but…I thought maybe I could surprise you?”
“That’s so sweet!” Kazuha said, reaching up to hug him—she was genuinely touched at what he’d attempted to do for her. Attempted was the keyword, because she didn’t know if he’d actually succeeded or not. Still, he hated chores like that, and so that made it all the more special.
It wasn’t until the next morning, when Kazuha went to get dressed, that she discovered a big bleach spot on one of her favorite shirts. And Heiji found himself running for his life as his irate wife yelled to tell him all the things she could do to him with some good quality hydrogen peroxide.
PS. I’ve never actually screwed up laundry like that. YAY ME! Would Heiji really screw it up this bad? I have no idea, but I still find it funny. Also, I must admit that I’m rather fond of this interpretation of the theme. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading, all. Much love!
Fandom: Detective Conan
Theme: #6—oxygen
Pairing: Hattori Heiji/Toyama Kazuha
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan or any related characters. They belong to Gosho Aoyama. I simply throw fruit at them, take pictures, and call it modern art. Critics love me.
Summary: There are some chores that Heiji shouldn’t be allowed to do.
“I’m going shopping with Ran-chan and Aoko-chan!” Kazuha called. “I’ll be back later! Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone!”
And with those lovely parting words, the front door slammed shut, signaling her exit.
Still sitting at the table, Heiji grumbled behind his newspaper. Don’t burn the house down, she said. Honestly—what if he dropped dead of a heart attack or something while she was out? And she came back and found him on the floor. Would she be able to live with herself knowing that her last words to her adoring and arguing husband were “Don’t burn the house down”?
What an ahou.
Still, he waited a few minutes to see if she was going to come back. But when the door did not open and no screeching voice invaded his senses, he concluded that she was gone for real. Meaning that he had the house to himself. Translation? Total freedom!
Granted, total freedom usually meant that he grabbed a book (usually an Ellery Queen novel, because Ellery Queen was a million times better than Sherlock Holmes—in your face, Kudo!) and read until he zonked out on the couch to be found by his irritated wife upon her return home. This would usually be followed by a scathing lecture about helping out around the house and his apparent inability to do so.
Well, today he was going to show her! He was going to prove to Kazuha once and for all that he was perfectly capable of doing simple household chores without prodding, nagging, yelling, or destruction of anything valuable.
No matter how much he preferred the book option.
After careful thought, he had decided that doing the laundry was probably his best bet. First of all, Kazuha had remarked the night before that the chore needed to be accomplished within the next couple of days. Secondly, how hard could laundry be? Honestly—put the clothes in the washer, drop in some soap, hit the button, and let ‘er rip. When it goes ding, move wet clothes to the dryer, start that, rinse, lather, repeat until finished. Then just fold and put away.
How hard could it possibly be, anyway?
Everything was already down in the laundry room, ready to rock. He just had to get it running.
Humming tunelessly to himself, he headed on in. “Okay, so first we toss the clothes in.” He grabbed a few things from the hamper and began piling them into the washer. When it looked appropriately full, he looked around. “Soap, soap…soap!” He located the elusive detergent and regarded it thoughtfully. “Hmmm…” He eventually just dumped some in and closed the washing machine door. “There! One load in.” He turned and wandered back towards the living room, feeling inordinately proud of himself. “Sheesh, why didn’t I even do this before? Would get Kazuha off my back…”
Half an hour later, at the sound of the ding, he put down his book and meandered back down to the laundry room…and found himself staring at a pile of very oddly-colored laundry. Strange…he knew for a fact that that particular shirt had been white when it when in the washing machine. Why in the world was it pink now? A rather lovely pink, but…pink!
Heiji pondered it for a minute before deciding that maybe he hadn’t put enough soap in. So he tossed the now multi-colored clothing into the dryer and grabbed the next load. Shoving it into the washing machine, he grabbed the detergent. “So if I put this much in last time…”
And he merrily poured half the bottle into the machine, closed it, and started it.
Still feeling inordinately proud of himself, he decided to pick up a little bit around the house. And Kazuha probably thought she was going to get to chew him out when she got home—well, he’d show her! Honestly, sometimes he thought she enjoyed yelling at him (it was sort of their shtick), so really, in not doing anything, he was theoretically doing her a favor, right?
…it was official, he decided. Their relationship really was too complicated.
Picking up didn’t take too long, and he even went so far as to grab an old towel and do a little dusting. Nothing major, but enough to prove that he could do it without breaking anything. Knocking things over, yes, but nothing got broken.
By the time he’d finished all those other little chores, he heard the washing machine ding again, and so he headed back towards the laundry room with the intent of continuing with this nice little chore.
The sight that met his eyes was not quite what he expected, though.
Heiji stared at the bubbles pouring down the front of the washing machine and swore under his breath in the most colorful language he knew. Now there was this mess to clean up in addition to getting the rest of the laundry done. Great. Just freakin’ peachy.
The house phone picked that moment to ring, and he sprinted to answer it. “Hello?”
“Heiji, it’s me!” Kazuha cheered from the other end. “Ran-chan’s sick, so we’ll be finishing up earlier than we thought we would. Aoko-chan and I are going to finish up and take her home, so I’ll be home in a couple hours, okay? See you soon!”
The call disconnected before he could reply, leaving Heiji to swivel his head between staring at the beeping receiver in his hand, the soap suds bubbling merrily all over the floor, and the pile of formerly-white (now pink) clothes going ‘round and ‘round in the dryer…and wonder how this had gone this wrong, and what exactly he had done to deserve to be this screwed.
When Kazuha came home two hours later, she half-expected to find the house in shambles and everything in it utterly destroyed. Hell, part of her was fairly certain that she’d be lucky if she came home and found the house still standing, period!
Instead…it was reasonably clean. It wasn’t perfect or anything, but then again, this was Heiji. But even more amazing was the fact that as she walked towards their bedroom, she actually ran into her husband…who was holding a basket of folded laundry.
Heiji froze when he saw her and fidgeted a bit nervously. “Oh—umm, hi!” He was honestly hoping to get at least a few more minutes to finish drying off the floor in the laundry room; it was by the grace of the gods (and the miracle of heavy-duty sponges) that he’d gotten those suds down the drain. And he’d done his best to bury the newly-discolored laundry at the bottom of their drawers or the backs of the closet so it wouldn’t be discovered right away.
Kazuha smiled. “Heiji, you…did laundry?”
“Umm, yeah…” he trailed off; he shifted the laundry basket against his hip and cleared his throat loudly. “I’m not very good at this kinda thing, but…I thought maybe I could surprise you?”
“That’s so sweet!” Kazuha said, reaching up to hug him—she was genuinely touched at what he’d attempted to do for her. Attempted was the keyword, because she didn’t know if he’d actually succeeded or not. Still, he hated chores like that, and so that made it all the more special.
It wasn’t until the next morning, when Kazuha went to get dressed, that she discovered a big bleach spot on one of her favorite shirts. And Heiji found himself running for his life as his irate wife yelled to tell him all the things she could do to him with some good quality hydrogen peroxide.
PS. I’ve never actually screwed up laundry like that. YAY ME! Would Heiji really screw it up this bad? I have no idea, but I still find it funny. Also, I must admit that I’m rather fond of this interpretation of the theme. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading, all. Much love!
