Work Text:
Kirishima Zen, head editor of Japun magazine, is on the verge of death. He gnaws at the safer end of a red ballpoint pen, rushing to paste typesetting. Ijuuin-sensei had gotten into an art block once again, waiting past the deadline to submit his manuscript. So, he remains at the office after hours, paying precious sleep for the habits of his irresponsible magaka.
His head aches. For the first time in the past century, Yokozawa and he were supposed to have a date night. But, alas, he was stuck at work again, leaving no option but to cancel.
He felt guilty for making him babysit his daughter once again. He also felt guilty wishing that the salesman was here with him, someone to share his stress with. He could really use him right now, despite that Yokozawa would probably just bitch and moan about the editor’s poor work ethic. At least that would give him something to listen to, or at least take the edge off.
Perhaps he could have fallen behind with his sales work tonight as well. The editor ponders the concept him of periodically picking up coffees for him and the editing team. Yokozawa would linger purposely, wasting time to ask Kirishima how his work was going, if he was going to head home soon. Perhaps Yokozawa would sense the stress radiating off the fatigued proofreader and comfort him in some way. Maybe Kirishima could sneak a kiss. Of course, no one would see; they're all to occupied with pasting screentone.
“Kirishima-san!” On cue, his beloved bats his head with a rolled-up magazine, “Don’t you have work to do?!”
Kirishima jumps up from his resting position, meeting eyes with the angry salesman. He frowns and places a Kuma-Bucks cup on his cluttered desk. “I-I figured I’d get some coffee for you while I head out,” he grumbles.
Kirishima fixes his hair, a bit flustered from the interruption of his daydream, “Oh,” he grins, “Just for me? Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”
“Shut up!” He groans and flashes his eyes back and forth, making sure that no one was paying attention to their conversation.
“You know what else I would appreciate?”
“...What?”
“A smooch.”
Kirishima earns himself another wack in the head, this one more gingerly than the previous. Yokozawa furrows his brows, acting as if his face isn’t bright red, “Go. To. Hell. And would you quit staring at me like that?! It’s creepy!”
Kirishima pouts, “Sorry,” he leans into his hand, grinning uncontrollably, “I’m just glad my daydream came true.”
Yokozawa glares at the editor before heading off, “Whatever. Get your work done, dumbass.”
“Yes, yes. Roger!”

booms Wed 13 Jun 2018 07:02PM UTC
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