Title: Paper Jam Ship/Character: Kuramochi Youichi/Kominato Ryousuke Additional Characters: None Fandom: Daiya Major Tags: None Other Tags: None Word Count: 979 Remix Permission:See Permissions Sheet
This almost took on a life of its own and it was fun to try a ship I’ve never written before. Thanks for the prompt!
***
“C’mon, you lousy motherf-” Youichi had to literally bite his tongue to stem the string of expletives threatening to break free as he cleared yet another paper jam from the large, floor-standing, multifunction printer. He was the only one in the tiny copy room but it would be just his luck for someone to overhear; he didn’t need an HR citation for workplace profanity on his record.
Then again, he thought sourly, anyone dealing with this shitty outdated machine and its labyrinth of internal rollers should be excused for expressing frustration. The folks over in HR probably had a better printer and couldn’t sympathize or they would change their policies, he was sure of it.
This damn thing would be the death of him yet. In a fit of pique, he put his fist on the copier plate with the middle finger extended, closed the cover, and hit the Copy button.
No sooner had the scanning light made its pass than the control panel began blinking an error message—‘Document Misfeed’, of course—along with step by step instructions on how to clear the paper jam...instructions Youichi had memorized by now.
He cleared the crunched up pages from the rollers once more and slammed the paper tray back into place with a bit more force than was technically necessary.
“There, take that you miserable, outdated, piece of sh-”
“My, my. Someone’s not having a good morning.”
Youichi barely managed to conceal his squeak of surprise with a cough. That deceptively dulcet voice could only belong to one person.
Ryousuke Kominato, financial analyst. The Tiny Terror. The Miniscule Menace. The Pink Penny Pincher. Not that anyone would ever say such things to his face; survival instincts were strong, after all. But Ryousuke was well-recognized in the company, for both his physical stature and business acumen.
He was also the object of Youichi’s secret office crush. Youichi couldn’t help it really. Ryousuke Kominato was gorgeous...gamine features, a keen mind, and an iron will all rolled into one. Youichi was convinced that whoever coined the phrase, ‘good things come in small packages’ had Ryousuke in mind.
And now he was standing there, just inside the copier room doorway, a tiny enigmatic smile on his face, watching Youichi beat up the office equipment.
“Mr. Kominato! I didn’t notice you.” At one delicately raised eyebrow, he hastened to clarify. “Not that you’re not noticeable or anything!” Ryousuke’s other eyebrow joined the first and Youichi wanted to punch himself. “I mean, I didn’t see you standing there. In the doorway. Behind me.” Could the ground just please be merciful and swallow him whole?
“So it would seem,” Ryousuke said, moving further into the room, a sheaf of papers in hand. “Please, call me Ryou; Seidou is small enough that there’s no need to stand on formality...Youichi, right? From operations support.”
“Y-yes, that’s right.”
Ryousuke stepped around him as Youichi just stood there, trying not to dwell on the fact that his crush knew who he was. He watched as Ryousuke tapped his papers into a neat stack, only shaking himself out of his daze when Ryousuke set them in the copier’s document feeder.
“Oh. It’s broken, I think. It keeps paper jamming. I’ve cleared it over and over but—”
He fell silent as Ryousuke verified his copy settings, then nonchalantly hip-checked the side of the machine and pressed the Start button. The copier whirred into action without so much as a beep of protest.
“Hmm, seems to be working fine now,” Ryousuke said, watching as the paper fed perfectly through the rollers, producing fresh crisp photocopies.
Youichi stared, dumbfounded, as backlogged print jobs from other users also began feeding into the output bins. “How did you—?”
Ryousuke turned and gave another one of those classic crinkly-eyed smiles. Then he dipped his chin slightly, peeking up through his bangs at Youichi. “It’s all in the hips,” he said with a wink.
If the heat creeping up Youichi’s neck was any indication, his ears were about to start steaming.
“Uhhh, yeah. Your hips would definitely do the trick,” he said, before his brain caught up with his mouth. “I mean...not your personal hips! Well, I guess they’re personal because they are yours. But, like, ‘your’ in the general sense of the word! Hips in general!” He was babbling. Did the universe have no sense of mercy?
He hastily gathered up his own documents; he’d deal with his copies later. When he wasn’t thinking about Ryousuke’s hips. “Well, thank you for fixing the copier, Mr. Ko—Ryou.” He stepped past the man, pointedly ignoring the fact that this close, the clean citrus of Ryousuke’s cologne filled his nostrils and wrapped around him.
Youichi beat a hasty retreat to his cubicle, where he valiantly attempted to refocus his attention on the spreadsheet he’d been editing prior to his disastrous visit to the copier. It lasted for all of thirty seconds before he gave up, propping his elbows on the desk and dropping his head into his hands. Ryousuke probably thought he was a complete nutcase and who would blame him.
“I think you forgot this,” a soft voice said, and Youichi bolted upright as a sheet of paper was laid face-down on his desk. The sound of Ryousuke giggling as he breezed past on the way to his own cubicle did funny things to Youichi’s stomach.
He flipped the sheet over to see the copy of his middle finger, flipping him off from the page. Mortified, he snatched up the paper and was about to fling it into the wastebasket when writing caught his eye. Printed neatly along his extended middle finger was a phone number and the words, “You could put this creativity to better use. Let’s talk. Maybe over dinner?”
Youichi had trouble deciding that day whether office printers were good or bad for his health.
Fill: Team Grandstand, T
Ship/Character: Kuramochi Youichi/Kominato Ryousuke
Additional Characters: None
Fandom: Daiya
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: None
Word Count: 979
Remix Permission: See Permissions Sheet
This almost took on a life of its own and it was fun to try a ship I’ve never written before. Thanks for the prompt!
***
“C’mon, you lousy motherf-” Youichi had to literally bite his tongue to stem the string of expletives threatening to break free as he cleared yet another paper jam from the large, floor-standing, multifunction printer. He was the only one in the tiny copy room but it would be just his luck for someone to overhear; he didn’t need an HR citation for workplace profanity on his record.
Then again, he thought sourly, anyone dealing with this shitty outdated machine and its labyrinth of internal rollers should be excused for expressing frustration. The folks over in HR probably had a better printer and couldn’t sympathize or they would change their policies, he was sure of it.
This damn thing would be the death of him yet. In a fit of pique, he put his fist on the copier plate with the middle finger extended, closed the cover, and hit the Copy button.
No sooner had the scanning light made its pass than the control panel began blinking an error message—‘Document Misfeed’, of course—along with step by step instructions on how to clear the paper jam...instructions Youichi had memorized by now.
He cleared the crunched up pages from the rollers once more and slammed the paper tray back into place with a bit more force than was technically necessary.
“There, take that you miserable, outdated, piece of sh-”
“My, my. Someone’s not having a good morning.”
Youichi barely managed to conceal his squeak of surprise with a cough. That deceptively dulcet voice could only belong to one person.
Ryousuke Kominato, financial analyst. The Tiny Terror. The Miniscule Menace. The Pink Penny Pincher. Not that anyone would ever say such things to his face; survival instincts were strong, after all. But Ryousuke was well-recognized in the company, for both his physical stature and business acumen.
He was also the object of Youichi’s secret office crush. Youichi couldn’t help it really. Ryousuke Kominato was gorgeous...gamine features, a keen mind, and an iron will all rolled into one. Youichi was convinced that whoever coined the phrase, ‘good things come in small packages’ had Ryousuke in mind.
And now he was standing there, just inside the copier room doorway, a tiny enigmatic smile on his face, watching Youichi beat up the office equipment.
“Mr. Kominato! I didn’t notice you.” At one delicately raised eyebrow, he hastened to clarify. “Not that you’re not noticeable or anything!” Ryousuke’s other eyebrow joined the first and Youichi wanted to punch himself. “I mean, I didn’t see you standing there. In the doorway. Behind me.” Could the ground just please be merciful and swallow him whole?
“So it would seem,” Ryousuke said, moving further into the room, a sheaf of papers in hand. “Please, call me Ryou; Seidou is small enough that there’s no need to stand on formality...Youichi, right? From operations support.”
“Y-yes, that’s right.”
Ryousuke stepped around him as Youichi just stood there, trying not to dwell on the fact that his crush knew who he was. He watched as Ryousuke tapped his papers into a neat stack, only shaking himself out of his daze when Ryousuke set them in the copier’s document feeder.
“Oh. It’s broken, I think. It keeps paper jamming. I’ve cleared it over and over but—”
He fell silent as Ryousuke verified his copy settings, then nonchalantly hip-checked the side of the machine and pressed the Start button. The copier whirred into action without so much as a beep of protest.
“Hmm, seems to be working fine now,” Ryousuke said, watching as the paper fed perfectly through the rollers, producing fresh crisp photocopies.
Youichi stared, dumbfounded, as backlogged print jobs from other users also began feeding into the output bins. “How did you—?”
Ryousuke turned and gave another one of those classic crinkly-eyed smiles. Then he dipped his chin slightly, peeking up through his bangs at Youichi. “It’s all in the hips,” he said with a wink.
If the heat creeping up Youichi’s neck was any indication, his ears were about to start steaming.
“Uhhh, yeah. Your hips would definitely do the trick,” he said, before his brain caught up with his mouth. “I mean...not your personal hips! Well, I guess they’re personal because they are yours. But, like, ‘your’ in the general sense of the word! Hips in general!” He was babbling. Did the universe have no sense of mercy?
He hastily gathered up his own documents; he’d deal with his copies later. When he wasn’t thinking about Ryousuke’s hips. “Well, thank you for fixing the copier, Mr. Ko—Ryou.” He stepped past the man, pointedly ignoring the fact that this close, the clean citrus of Ryousuke’s cologne filled his nostrils and wrapped around him.
Youichi beat a hasty retreat to his cubicle, where he valiantly attempted to refocus his attention on the spreadsheet he’d been editing prior to his disastrous visit to the copier. It lasted for all of thirty seconds before he gave up, propping his elbows on the desk and dropping his head into his hands. Ryousuke probably thought he was a complete nutcase and who would blame him.
“I think you forgot this,” a soft voice said, and Youichi bolted upright as a sheet of paper was laid face-down on his desk. The sound of Ryousuke giggling as he breezed past on the way to his own cubicle did funny things to Youichi’s stomach.
He flipped the sheet over to see the copy of his middle finger, flipping him off from the page. Mortified, he snatched up the paper and was about to fling it into the wastebasket when writing caught his eye. Printed neatly along his extended middle finger was a phone number and the words, “You could put this creativity to better use. Let’s talk. Maybe over dinner?”
Youichi had trouble deciding that day whether office printers were good or bad for his health.