As soon as Osamu opens the door, the smell of greenery reaches his nose.
Which is weird, considering the fact that the only plant in the house is Osamu's pot of Whistling Red Gerbera Daisies, placed on the window sill in his bedroom.
"'Tsumu?" he calls out, shutting the door behind him and turning the lock as he toes off his shoes. "Are you here?"
There's a thump from somewhere deeper into the apartment, and Osamu assumes that's a yes. Slowly - balancing the groceries in his arms - he makes his way across the hallway and the smell only gets stronger. He recognises the sweetness of a Weeping Galaxy, if he's correct, and wonders how that found its way into the house. They tend to stay rooted once they find a place they like, and Osamu is pretty sure the rehousing season for Weeping Galaxies is already over.
He pushes the door into the kitchen open, and immediately the source of the low thrum of magic is clear: slumbering Starsplinters in their little cages on the kitchen counter; a fairly sick-looking Alberadae ordinata next to the stove; a pot of Glittering Snowdrops dusting the floor with sparkles...
There are plants on every surface, as far as Osamu can see and he doesn't know how they got there.
Although, he has an inkling.
"'Tsumu?" he calls again, because his brother is the only one who has a key to his apartment, the only one who occupies Osamu's sofa every day even though his own place is just one door over.
"Bedroom!" Osamu hears coming from around the corner, and it the voice is weirdly muffled.
He sets the groceries down carefully, placing them between pots and planters. Under his fingertips, the browning, curling leaves of the Alberadae grow a little more green, a little less brittle, and Osamu makes a mental note to spend more time working on it later on.
First, he thinks, he should probably have a look at what kind of trouble his brother has gotten himself into.
He steps over a variation of colourful flower pots, makes sure he doesn't touch the vines zigzagging across the floor and makes his way to the bedroom. Behind the door, he can hear scuffling sounds and the smell of the Weeping Galaxy is all the stronger here.
Through his magic, he can feel distress signals coming from inside - they're not sent out by his brother, he realises, but by some of the plants.
The door meets resistance when Osamu tries to open it, so instead of forcing it open further, Osamu shimmies through the gap, careful of the wet patch on the hardwood floor, wondering what's going on there.
It doesn't take long to assess the situation.
Across the bedroom, behind Osamu's bed, Atsumu is wrapped up in vines, his arms and legs held tightly together to hold him still, a collection of thin vines woven together over his mouth.
Next to Osamu is the Weeping Galaxy, angrily dumping sweet-smelling tears onto Atsumu's flames dancing across the floor, whenever they get too close.
Osamu just raises an eyebrow at his brother's predicament, feeling laughter bubbling up when Atsumu's eyes clearly convey how he feels about Osamu's amusement. He manages to keep it in, though, and quietly makes his way over to the plant holding Atsumu.
He touches his fingers to it, feels its distress much more clearly now: annoyance over the amount of noise Atsumu had made, fear over the flames dancing around the room, determination to keep every other living thing in its vicinity safe from fire mage magic.
He almost voices his assurance, but remembers to keep quiet, shushing the plant with a low thrum of magic, a calming stream of energy, and he presses a finger to his lips as the vines start letting Atsumu go.
He leads the both of them out of the room, pats the Weeping Galaxy on his way out to thank it for its help in keeping his room from going up in flames.
"What were you thinking," Osamu asks, "attacking a sentient plant, 'Tsumu?"
Atsumu seems to puff up at that, putting his hands on his hips and averting his face.
"It attacked me first," he says, pouty and childish, and Osamu's is glad to see the ordeal has obviously not affected him much.
"It likes silence, that species of plant," Osamu explains, ignoring Atsumu's words. "I bet you went in there talking to yourself all loud and you."
"I was just trying to find a place for that stinking wet plant," Atsumu defends. Osamu decides not to mention the glitter the snowdrops left all over his shirt.
"So you're the one who carried all the plants in here? Why?"
Atsumu seems startled by the question, and instead of launching into an obvious fib of an explanation, he rubs at his neck and actually looks sorry.
"Well," Atsumu eventually says, after Osamu has waited him out for a few minutes, "I was done early at work and I thought I'd wait for you here."
Osamu nods to encourage his brother to go on.
"I might've... gotten a little bit bored... and played with my fire a teeny little bit." Atsumu's eyes meet Osamu's for a split second before he looks away again. Definitely guilty then, Osamu thinks.
"I swear I didn't mean to burn your... the red ones? But when I went to the flower shop they didn't have those anymore, and I don't know what plants you like so I might have just.. gotten some of each one they had?"
"And you don't think that might have been a little over the top?"
Atsumu grins sheepishly.
"I suppose, now that you say so."
"Let's see if we can get the flower shop to take some of them back."
"Thanks, 'Samu, you're the best. Do you really think they will?"
Osamu smiles a little. "Maybe if I tell the how much of an idiot my brother is."
"Hey! That's not fair! I was trying to be nice!"
"I know." Osamu looks around, and lets himself feel just how alive his place feels now, with the delight the plants take in the sunlight streaming in through the windows, with the collective relief he feels coming from them now that the plants in his bedroom are no longer stressed out. "Thank you, 'Tsumu."
FILL: TEAM OIKAWA TOORU/USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, G
Other Tags: Magical Realism AU, please mind the magical plants ppl
Word Count: 1059
Read it on AO3
***
As soon as Osamu opens the door, the smell of greenery reaches his nose.
Which is weird, considering the fact that the only plant in the house is Osamu's pot of Whistling Red Gerbera Daisies, placed on the window sill in his bedroom.
"'Tsumu?" he calls out, shutting the door behind him and turning the lock as he toes off his shoes. "Are you here?"
There's a thump from somewhere deeper into the apartment, and Osamu assumes that's a yes. Slowly - balancing the groceries in his arms - he makes his way across the hallway and the smell only gets stronger. He recognises the sweetness of a Weeping Galaxy, if he's correct, and wonders how that found its way into the house. They tend to stay rooted once they find a place they like, and Osamu is pretty sure the rehousing season for Weeping Galaxies is already over.
He pushes the door into the kitchen open, and immediately the source of the low thrum of magic is clear: slumbering Starsplinters in their little cages on the kitchen counter; a fairly sick-looking Alberadae ordinata next to the stove; a pot of Glittering Snowdrops dusting the floor with sparkles...
There are plants on every surface, as far as Osamu can see and he doesn't know how they got there.
Although, he has an inkling.
"'Tsumu?" he calls again, because his brother is the only one who has a key to his apartment, the only one who occupies Osamu's sofa every day even though his own place is just one door over.
"Bedroom!" Osamu hears coming from around the corner, and it the voice is weirdly muffled.
He sets the groceries down carefully, placing them between pots and planters. Under his fingertips, the browning, curling leaves of the Alberadae grow a little more green, a little less brittle, and Osamu makes a mental note to spend more time working on it later on.
First, he thinks, he should probably have a look at what kind of trouble his brother has gotten himself into.
He steps over a variation of colourful flower pots, makes sure he doesn't touch the vines zigzagging across the floor and makes his way to the bedroom. Behind the door, he can hear scuffling sounds and the smell of the Weeping Galaxy is all the stronger here.
Through his magic, he can feel distress signals coming from inside - they're not sent out by his brother, he realises, but by some of the plants.
The door meets resistance when Osamu tries to open it, so instead of forcing it open further, Osamu shimmies through the gap, careful of the wet patch on the hardwood floor, wondering what's going on there.
It doesn't take long to assess the situation.
Across the bedroom, behind Osamu's bed, Atsumu is wrapped up in vines, his arms and legs held tightly together to hold him still, a collection of thin vines woven together over his mouth.
Next to Osamu is the Weeping Galaxy, angrily dumping sweet-smelling tears onto Atsumu's flames dancing across the floor, whenever they get too close.
Osamu just raises an eyebrow at his brother's predicament, feeling laughter bubbling up when Atsumu's eyes clearly convey how he feels about Osamu's amusement. He manages to keep it in, though, and quietly makes his way over to the plant holding Atsumu.
He touches his fingers to it, feels its distress much more clearly now: annoyance over the amount of noise Atsumu had made, fear over the flames dancing around the room, determination to keep every other living thing in its vicinity safe from fire mage magic.
He almost voices his assurance, but remembers to keep quiet, shushing the plant with a low thrum of magic, a calming stream of energy, and he presses a finger to his lips as the vines start letting Atsumu go.
He leads the both of them out of the room, pats the Weeping Galaxy on his way out to thank it for its help in keeping his room from going up in flames.
"What were you thinking," Osamu asks, "attacking a sentient plant, 'Tsumu?"
Atsumu seems to puff up at that, putting his hands on his hips and averting his face.
"It attacked me first," he says, pouty and childish, and Osamu's is glad to see the ordeal has obviously not affected him much.
"It likes silence, that species of plant," Osamu explains, ignoring Atsumu's words. "I bet you went in there talking to yourself all loud and you."
"I was just trying to find a place for that stinking wet plant," Atsumu defends. Osamu decides not to mention the glitter the snowdrops left all over his shirt.
"So you're the one who carried all the plants in here? Why?"
Atsumu seems startled by the question, and instead of launching into an obvious fib of an explanation, he rubs at his neck and actually looks sorry.
"Well," Atsumu eventually says, after Osamu has waited him out for a few minutes, "I was done early at work and I thought I'd wait for you here."
Osamu nods to encourage his brother to go on.
"I might've... gotten a little bit bored... and played with my fire a teeny little bit." Atsumu's eyes meet Osamu's for a split second before he looks away again. Definitely guilty then, Osamu thinks.
"I swear I didn't mean to burn your... the red ones? But when I went to the flower shop they didn't have those anymore, and I don't know what plants you like so I might have just.. gotten some of each one they had?"
"And you don't think that might have been a little over the top?"
Atsumu grins sheepishly.
"I suppose, now that you say so."
"Let's see if we can get the flower shop to take some of them back."
"Thanks, 'Samu, you're the best. Do you really think they will?"
Osamu smiles a little. "Maybe if I tell the how much of an idiot my brother is."
"Hey! That's not fair! I was trying to be nice!"
"I know." Osamu looks around, and lets himself feel just how alive his place feels now, with the delight the plants take in the sunlight streaming in through the windows, with the collective relief he feels coming from them now that the plants in his bedroom are no longer stressed out. "Thank you, 'Tsumu."