Overtime Interruptus

lyrebird ([email protected])
Classification: Lemon
Spoilers for Kyoto arc

Author's Notes:

I wanted this fic to be a standalone story, but in my mind I kept thinking of Umbral Embrace. So strictly speaking, this story is a 'supplement' to Umbral Embrace - not really a sequel because Umbral Embrace is complete. Think of it as a short story on how their relationship is developing a few weeks on. But you don't need to have read it - just assume that Tatsumi and Hisoka are already in an established relationship.

This story incorporates two ideas proposed by Kohakutenshi and Hisokaomi for the yaoi challenge LJ. Thanks to Amethyst Hunter and Gengkotsuya for their help. I drove Gengkotsuya crazy with my ramblings - she deserves a star for putting up with me and providing much inspiration.

---

It was a truth acknowledged throughout the corridors of EnmaCho's Shoukanka that secretary Tatsumi Seiichirou worked too many hours for his own good.

During one afternoon tea under the sakura trees, three of his colleagues contemplated the gravity of this situation.

"He'd work himself into an early grave if he wasn't dead already," Watari warned. He waved his fork in mid-air to emphasise his point.

Tsuzuki nodded in agreement. "Workaholic," he mumbled. "Always like this." Managing clear diction around a mouthful of apple pie wasn't easy.

Hisoka watched them stuff their faces. He turned their words over in his mind. He sipped his tea.

"What do you think, Bon?" Watari asked. "Don't you believe Tatsumi works too hard?"

"Well, he's responsible for managing the Shoukanka on a day-to-day basis--"

"Day to day, yes. Not night time as well."

"Night time?" Hisoka repeated. Even Tsuzuki paused in mid-chew to listen.

"Yesterday one of my experiments took longer than I expected, so I ended up staying back until 8 p.m. When I left I saw the light in Tatsumi's office. It was the only one on in the entire building."

"Maybe he forgot to turn it off."

Tsuzuki swallowed his apple pie and laughed. "Nah, not Tatsumi. He wouldn't want to blow out the electricity bill."

Watari grinned. "He conducts a final inspection to ensure every light switch is off before he leaves. Can you believe he even wanted me to turn off all the laboratory equipment at the end of each day? I had to hand him a detailed cost-benefit analysis showing the negligible savings before he agreed to give in."

"He's such a miser." Tsuzuki sighed. "He forgets that money is meant to be spent."

"True." Watari munched on his apple pie. "But someone has to be prudent around here. Thanks to the damage caused by your shikigami, the accounts have been in the red for almost a year--"

"Hey! It's not just me! What about those lab explosions last month? The entire building was evacuated as a safety precaution!"

Hisoka sipped his tea while they argued, his brow puckered in a frown. Last week, Tatsumi had told him he would be busy in the evenings preparing the half-yearly activity report. Further increases in Shoukanka funding depended on him impressing the JuOhCho bureaucrats with increases in productivity. So Hisoka spent the past five evenings alone. He kept himself busy by practising his swordsmanship in the dojo, and reading books at home about history and art and science to broaden his knowledge. He did his utmost to fill the void left by Tatsumi's absence.

He thought Tatsumi would bring his work home with him in the same way students brought books home to study. He never imagined Tatsumi would stay behind so late at the office.

"Wait! I know how to fix this!" Tsuzuki announced cheerily. "Hisoka, why don't you tell him not to work so hard?"

"Me?" Hisoka felt his face turn red. "I'm not his superior. I can't order him about."

"But you order me about all the time!" Tsuzuki pointed out. "If you can do it to me, then you can do it to him, ne?"

"But...Tatsumi-san is his own person. He's not an idiot like you!"

Watari burst out laughing. "Be fair, Tsuzuki. Changing a stubborn goat like Tatsumi requires fearless bravery...and much foolishness. No person in his right mind would attempt it."

"But he needs to rest - at least take a break for meals. I haven't seen him leave his office for lunch this week, let alone morning or afternoon tea."

"Hmm. You're right. He usually pokes his head out during breaks to ensure we don't take more time off than the stipulated fifteen minutes."

"Exactly." Tsuzuki looked around furtively, then leaned closer to the others. "That's bad for anyone, but especially so for Tatsumi. He'll aggravate his peptic ulcer if he doesn't eat."

"Ulcer?" This was news to Hisoka. "But he's a shinigami like us. Doesn't his body have the same recuperative powers?"

"Certainly," Watari agreed. "But we still have the minor ailments that plagued us in the world of the living. Chief Konoe has bouts of lumbago and arthritis. I have to wear glasses for my myopia, as does Tatsumi. But he has other complaints - stress headaches, peptic ulcers. These are all symptomatic of a type A personality."

"Oh." Hisoka frowned, disturbed by this news. Tatsumi never showed any signs of ill health. On the contrary, he gave every impression of being a healthy virile man in the prime of his life.

During their last night together, Tatsumi encouraged Hisoka to sit astride him for a change. Hisoka enjoyed the sense of control - he could vary the rhythm and depth of the thrusts to draw out their mutual pleasure, and watch Tatsumi's initial restraint melt into vigorous lusty enthusiasm.

He felt guilty thinking about it. He wanted to try that position again, but maybe it would trigger indigestion, and worsen a peptic ulcer. Maybe Tatsumi had been hiding his health problems all along...

"Why don't you visit him tonight?" Tsuzuki asked. "Be sure to bring him something sweet - the sugar will give him energy! I'm sure that will help with the headaches too."

"But...are you sure he won't mind? I don't want to interrupt him if he's working."

"Nah, you're giving him the break he needs! I'm sure he'd love to see you!"

Hisoka flushed. Tsuzuki knew, of course, but did he have to declare it so loudly to anyone within earshot?

Watari's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Make sure he doesn't eat too much spicy or sour food - that can trigger heartburn. And starchy or fatty foods can worsen indigestion."

Hisoka carefully memorised their words of wisdom. He knew nothing about how to care for a sick person, let alone one with a Type A personality. He would need all the help he could get.

*****

By 7 p.m. the Shoukanka offices were deserted.

Hisoka walked through the empty corridors. The paper bag he held rustled with each step. He was a little dubious about some of the suggestions Tsuzuki and Watari had given him - desserts to treat a headache? - but then again, it couldn't hurt. He also brought along some conventional treatments they'd recommended, just in case.

The door to Tatsumi's office was shut. A sliver of gold light shone from under the door.

Hisoka hesitated. Tatsumi drew firm boundaries between working and personal affairs - a situation Hisoka preferred as well. He didn't want to be given special treatment because of their relationship.

So coming to Tatsumi's office for personal reasons made him uneasy. He didn't have an appointment, and he knew Tatsumi didn't like to be disturbed when he was busy. Was he presuming too much by coming here? But the working day was over. Tatsumi needed to eat before the ulcer eroded through his stomach lining. Watari had described the consequences in graphic detail.

This was for Tatsumi's own good.

He knocked before his courage deserted him.

The light beneath the door flickered. A tendril of shadow drifted out to curl around his ankle.

"Who's there?" Tatsumi's voice was gruff and curt.

Hisoka straightened his shoulders, determined not to be intimidated. "It's me, Tatsumi-san."

There was a long pause. "Come in, Kurosaki-kun."

The door swung open before he could reach for the knob. The room was dark, apart from a single lamp casting a puddle of gold light on a wide desk littered with stacks of books, folders and loose sheets of paper. Seated at his desk in a high-back, large-seat executive chair of black leather, Tatsumi was an imposing figure: his expression stern, shoulders hunched, face partially concealed in shadow. Only a keen observer would recognise it, but Hisoka could see his tie was loosened slightly. However, the top button of his shirt was firmly done up, along with his customary tan vest and the leather armbands. Even at day's end, Tatsumi was a stickler for proper appearance.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" His pen moved with swift decisive strokes. "I thought you'd be at home by now."

"I wanted to see you." Hisoka turned to close the door, only to see it swing slowly shut. A wisp of darkness uncurled from the knob, slithered around his ankles, then darted under the desk to merge with the shadows lurking there.

Hisoka peered down, half-wishing it would return. He missed playing with the dancing shadows.

Tatsumi glanced up. His wire-frame glasses reflected the light, making it impossible to see his eyes. "Why? Is there something wrong?"

"No, I'm fine." Hisoka sat himself in the opposite chair facing the desk - a smaller visitor's chair that reinforced the height discrepancy between them. "I came to see how you were. So...how are you?"

Tatsumi began writing again. "My report is far from complete. I have to summarise sections for my slide presentation, and construct graphs of the relevant data."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Tatsumi blinked. "It's all right, Kurosaki-kun. Completing this report is one of my responsibilities as secretary--"

"I know how to use spreadsheet programs to make graphs."

"So do I," Tatsumi replied dryly.

"But I have time now. Tell me what you want and I'll do it."

Tatsumi smiled. It thawed his features, reaching his eyes with its unexpected warmth - revealing the man lurking beneath the officious bureaucrat. "Thank you, but it isn't your job to help me."

"I want to help!" Hisoka jumped to his feet. "I'm not doing anything at the moment--"

"You already have enough responsibilities as an active shinigami. It would be unfair of me to burden you with additional duties outside working hours."

"But it's unfair that you've worked so late for the past two days. We haven't seen you leave your office for meal breaks all this week. I know the report is important to the Shoukanka, but surely you don't have to starve yourself to get it done."

Tatsumi lifted a brow. "How do you know I've been working late?"

"Watari-san saw the light in your office when he left last night. And you never leave your office for any meals." Hisoka used his temporary height advantage to stare down the seated Tatsumi. "You haven't had dinner yet either, have you?"

Tatsumi pushed his glasses up his nose. "Kurosaki-kun, my eating habits are my concern, not yours."

"They told me about your health problems."

"What?" Tatsumi looked thunderstruck. "What the...what have those two been saying?"

"That you have bouts of indigestion and headaches. Watari-san suspects you also have high blood pressure--"

"I don't believe it." Tatsumi threw his pen down in disgust. "They already take more time for breaks than anyone else, but to gossip like old women while shovelling their mouths full of cake--"

"Today it was apple pie," Hisoka corrected. He took out a slightly squished foil-wrapped piece. "They left this for you. Tsuzuki said you'll make your ulcer worse if you didn't eat. I can heat it up--"

Tatsumi scowled. "They should worry more about their work performance and overdrawn expense accounts instead of prying in other people's lives."

"But they were worried about you!" Hisoka couldn't understand this hostility. Even with his curbed empathic powers, he could sense the dark anger...but without understanding, how could he diffuse it? "You never told me you were so ill--"

"Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi's icy voice cut across his words with razor-like precision, "my health, like my eating habits, is my own business. Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do." He picked up his pen and began writing again.

Hisoka lowered his gaze, stunned. It was the verbal equivalent of a slap in the face.

Tatsumi had made himself painfully clear. Being an intensely private person, he preferred to keep his personal affairs to himself. He didn't want well-meaning advice from anyone - not his friends, not even his--

Hisoka flushed. He didn't know what he was to Tatsumi. But whatever Tatsumi felt for him, he didn't trust him with his health problems.

A hollow feeling settled in his stomach - maybe it was the gnawing ache of hunger. He should have eaten before coming here. Maybe he should go home and eat dinner. He could have the pie for dessert.

If Tatsumi didn't want him around, he would avoid further humiliation and leave him to his all-important work.

A movement beneath the desk caught Hisoka's eye. A tendril of wispy shadow snaked out and wound itself around his ankle. Another one curled itself around his other ankle, and a third reached up to encircle his wrist. They tugged gently at him.

At his desk, Tatsumi wrote, his shoulders hunched forward. Hisoka couldn't detect a single flicker of emotion from him. If it wasn't for the evidence of his eyes, he wouldn't have known Tatsumi was in the room.

"Go home and get some sleep." Tatsumi no longer sounded angry, merely tired. "There's no point in us both staying behind."

The shadows thickened around Hisoka's ankles. They curled up to his knees, cocooning his lower legs in gauzy darkness. The shadow wisp around his wrist circled faster and faster like a puppy chasing its tail.

Hisoka was grateful for their silent support. Tatsumi may be able to block his feelings, but he couldn't subdue the will of his shadows at the same time.

"I'm not leaving."

Tatsumi looked up sharply.

The shadow wisp ducked inside the sleeve of Hisoka's sweatshirt.

"You have no reason to stay, Kurosaki-kun."

Hisoka lifted his chin, his gaze unwavering. Inside, his heart pounded double time. "With all due respect, Tatsumi-san, I think I do."

Tatsumi's gaze narrowed. He put down his pen, rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his hands in front of him.

A frisson of excitement ran down Hisoka's spine. To be the focus of Tatsumi's attention, even in displeasure, thrilled him. The piles of papers, the desk separating them, the entire office receded into an indistinct blur. The way Tatsumi stared at him as if nothing else in the room existed - it brought a memory to vivid life...

---

Tatsumi's bedroom was never completely dark. He always provided a soft light source for his shadows to play at night. Given a reprieve from the strict physical laws of nature, they crept out of creases and corners, from under furniture and blinds, to flit and dance around the room.

Hisoka watched them form weird and wonderful patterns on the ceiling until he became dizzy. The disorientation was a welcome distraction from the anticipation twisting his insides.

"Tatsumi-san..." His fingers clutched broad shoulders damp with sweat.

"Don't use your empathy." Tatsumi's low voice against his ear was an implicit command. With one oiled hand, he massaged their erections together with slow easy strokes.

Hisoka gasped, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Pleasure surged within him, an intense ache that clamoured for an outlet. He twisted restlessly against the futon. "Too much...I can't..."

Tatsumi kissed him gently, intending to soothe and comfort. But Hisoka wanted more. He nipped and teased until Tatsumi abandoned tenderness for greedy lust. Caught up in Tatsumi's hunger, Hisoka clasped his head, tousling the brown hair into wild disorder, caressing his scalp. So many wonderful sensations - he never knew sex could feel so exhilarating, so liberating.

Dazed with pleasure, he let his empathy slip free. It strove for Tatsumi's mind, slipping past wavering kagetsu mind barriers to probe his consciousness.

Sweltering heat flooded Hisoka's senses. Salty-sweetness filled his mouth, but drinking it only left him thirsting for more. Long graceful limbs entwined together, tangling, tightening. The ache in his groin went into overload, spiralling beyond his control.

Tatsumi wrenched his mouth free. "No!" He grasped Hisoka's shaft and squeezed.

Hisoka cried out. Every muscle stiffened in protest, but it worked - the ache eased as his desire retreated from climax.

"I warned you, didn't I?"

Hisoka blinked up at him. Was that terrible ache what Tatsumi was experiencing now? "Are you...okay?"

Tatsumi gave a tight nod. His brow was dewed with sweat.

"But...how do you cope?"

"Focus." He pressed his lips to Hisoka's forehead, his breath cool against flushed skin.

"What? You mean...my power?"

"No! Focus...focus on me."

Hisoka obeyed. He forgot about the shadows dancing on the ceiling. He let Tatsumi prepare them both, then arrange their limbs to his exacting standards. His legs were gently hoisted over broad shoulders, exposing the most intimate part of himself to Tatsumi's scrutiny. Hisoka didn't want to feel so vulnerable, so utterly exposed. But Tatsumi gave him no choice - he searched Hisoka's features as if he held the secret to the universe, stripping him bare to reveal every secret fear and longing.

Hisoka didn't know if he found what he was looking for. He resisted the impulse to hide himself from Tatsumi's intense gaze.

Penetration was an exquisite intimacy that only heightened their emotional bond. Tatsumi bowed his head with the first thrust, hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. Hisoka gasped and arched, his muscles rippling in eager welcome.

"Kurosaki-kun..." Tatsumi's voice was thick, almost unrecognisable.

Gone was the considerate tutor-lover - Tatsumi's brilliant blue eyes were narrowed into predatory slits. His nostrils flared with each breath, his lips parted in a grimace as he clung to the remnants of his waning control.

Hisoka couldn't believe the transformation.

Trembling under the barrage of driving thrusts, his pleasure-wracked body was only too willing to accommodate the demands of this rapacious alter-ego. Each stroke sent sweet jolts sizzling through him, making him soar higher and higher...until climax exploded through him, blowing his senses apart with shockwaves of delight.

Tatsumi devoured each and every expression flickering across his face - disbelief, wonder, and ecstasy. He shut his eyes only when the aftershocks proved too much to bear, and muffled his helpless groan against Hisoka's shoulder.

---

Hisoka went beet-red and bowed his head, embarrassed by his thoughts. This wasn't the time or place for erotic imaginings.

Across the desk, Tatsumi swallowed. A slight flush coloured his cheeks. "Do as you wish." He picked up his pen and began writing furiously. "I have no authority to order you about outside office hours."

Hisoka couldn't believe his ears. Why did Tatsumi capitulate to his demands so easily? Did he read his mind? Surely not - he wasn't empathic.

But even a normal person possessed the power of intuition...

Hisoka looked at the shadows gathering around his ankles. "I...I'll go and heat this pie up for you."

"I don't want it."

"Then I'll eat it," Hisoka replied, undeterred. "And I'll make some tea."

In the tea room, Hisoka warmed the pie in the convection oven. He plugged in the electric jug and boiled water for tea. When he reached for the bowl and cups in the overhead cupboard, the wisp of shadow darted out from under his sleeve.

Hisoka lowered his wrist to watch it swirl around his wrist. When he tried to pick it up, the shadow darted up his fingers and began swirling around his other wrist - a magical ribbon come to life.

"So where were you when I needed you? I could have done with some moral support back there."

The shadow slowed its movement.

"You're not afraid of him, are you?"

In answer, the shadow dashed inside his sleeve.

"Hey!" Hisoka peered into the folds of his sleeve. "Don't run away." He pulled up his sleeve to expose his arm - nothing. "I suppose that's a yes - not that I blame you."

The jug finished boiling. Hisoka placed a teaspoon of powdered tea leaves in the bowl. After waiting a few minutes for the water to cool, he poured it in the bowl and whipped it with a bamboo whisk. He smiled when the shadow wisp slipped out of his sleeve to swirl around his wrist, keeping perfect time with his stirring motion.

Maybe Tatsumi was angry because he wanted to keep his health problems secret. On reflection, Hisoka realised it was rude of him to bring this delicate subject up so bluntly. Tact was not his strong suit. But this was a serious matter that required honesty and bluntness, not subterfuge and secrecy. He couldn't sit by and do nothing.

If Tatsumi was too busy to take care of himself, then Hisoka was determined to help - whether Tatsumi wanted him there or not.

When the mixture was a frothy green brew, Hisoka filled the cups. The aroma of apple pie wafted through the room when he opened the oven, making his mouth water. With the pie in one hand, and the cups on a small tray, he was ready to return. The shadow wisp curled around the door knob and twisted it open for him.

"Thank you," Hisoka said.

The shadow wisp wound itself around his wrist and slipped within his sleeve.

The door to Tatsumi's office opened by itself. Out of the corner of his eye, Hisoka caught a shadow melting into the corners of the room.

Tatsumi riffled through some loose papers. He muttered his thanks when Hisoka placed the tea on his desk.

"There's too much pie for me to eat. I'll leave half of it for you in case you get hungry later."

"As you wish." Tatsumi was too preoccupied to look up.

Hisoka returned to his seat and began eating. He didn't have a sweet tooth, but he was hungry and the pie tasted delicious. He took sips of tea to slow his eating.

"Have you eaten dinner?"

Hisoka swallowed his mouthful. "Of course," he lied. "Not that it's any of your business."

Tatsumi lifted a brow in mild reproof. "Very well." He took a sip of tea and went back to reading.

Arguing with Tatsumi was a frustrating one-sided affair. Although he was renowned for his fearsome temper, in private Tatsumi was surprisingly calm and unflappable.

Hisoka wished he had a fraction of Tatsumi's self-control. Despite being reserved by nature, he didn't possess Tatsumi's skill and experience in repressing emotion. Emotions were mutable and fickle things, constantly changing from one moment to the next. Hisoka knew how to pinpoint and identify them, but that was all.

The reasoning behind emotions often baffled him. The ability to rein in his emotions frequently eluded him.

When it came to controlling his feelings, he was a novice compared to Tatsumi.

Hisoka didn't feel hungry any more. He placed the uneaten piece on the desk next to Tatsumi's cup.

Tatsumi gave it a passing glance. "Thank you."

Hisoka returned to the chair. He took out the jar of antacid powder and the box of painkiller tablets from his bag. Covertly he studied Tatsumi's features. A diffuse glow from the lamplight revealed the grooves bracketing Tatsumi's stern mouth, and smaller lines etched between his brows - markers of tension and exhaustion...and ageing.

Unsettled, Hisoka looked away. A trick of the shadows, nothing more.

He looked down at his slender hands and gangly limbs. Trapped in perpetual adolescence, his body was proof that shinigami did not age.

For Tatsumi, he was glad. As for himself...

Impatiently he shook his head. Why was he thinking about that now? He'd put that old ghost to rest ages ago.

The shadows shifted under the desk. They curled below Hisoka's chair, now and then daring to entwine a tendril around his ankle before letting go.

Hisoka used his empathy, tiptoeing around the kagetsu mind barriers as he felt for any sign of pain or distress. Nothing. Tatsumi revealed nothing via physical expression or psychic emanation.

Hisoka came to a decision. Quietly he placed the medicines on the edge of the desk.

Tatsumi eyed them with the same hatred he reserved for bills and loan statements.

"In case you need them." Hisoka tried appealing to Tatsumi's innate thriftiness. "They'll go to waste otherwise."

Tatsumi looked up, a glimmer of amusement reaching his eyes. "That's the last thing I'd want." His lips curved in a reluctant smile.

"I thought so."

Inside, his stomach was doing somersaults. When Tatsumi let down his guard a little and smiled - a rare event in itself - Hisoka had to look away. It was like staring at the sun, too brilliant and glorious for him to take in at once. It wasn't as easy to come by as Tsuzuki's ready smiles and good cheer, but that only made its infrequent appearances even more breathtaking.

Tatsumi went back to writing. Hisoka watched him for a moment, then lowered his gaze. Why did this man have such power over him? Was Tatsumi even aware of it?

Feeling despondent and somewhat resentful, Hisoka took out a book to read - an introductory book on theoretical physics Watari had recommended to him. He was still troubled by Tatsumi's refusal to let him help. He hated feeling idle and useless. Maybe he was better off going home, but his pride insisted he stay.

He turned the pages, squinting as he tried to make out the page numbers. There was barely enough lamplight for him to see the text. He bent his head closer.

Golden light fell onto the pages and across his lap. The shadows in the room were shifting around him, making room for the lamplight.

"Reading in the dark strains the eyes and causes headache, Kurosaki-kun. If you do it for too long, you'll end up needing a couple of the tablets you brought for me."

"I know that." Tatsumi's thoughtfulness made him feel foolish. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Tatsumi lingered on Hisoka's bent head for a few seconds longer before returning to the papers in front of him.

Hisoka found his page and began reading. Reading was one of his favourite hobbies, for he loved immersing himself in imaginary worlds and stimulating his mind with new ideas: no other activity provided the dual pleasure of education and escapism. With his life cut short, he'd lost the chance to experience so many things the living took for granted - so reading was his best way of vicariously catching up on missed opportunities. Half the problem was finding the time to sit and focus. During working hours there were always cases to investigate and reports to write. Even during quiet days there were distractions - he often found himself acting as mediator during Tsuzuki's disputes with Terazuma or the Gushoshin librarians.

As for evenings and weekends - he hadn't finished a book for weeks. Tatsumi's ardent lovemaking had seen to that.

Hisoka dispelled the disturbing memories. With Tatsumi busy, this was the perfect opportunity for him to read. His office was quiet and peaceful. There were no distractions. Well, almost.

He peered down at his feet. Shadow tendrils uncurled from each ankle, sheepish at being caught.

He held out his hand. The tendrils paused, then curled around his fingers in welcome. He thought he could just feel them against his skin - soft and ticklish like velvet ribbon. When he withdrew his hand, they relinquished their wispy hold and rejoined their comrades swirling beneath the desk. Like their master, the shadows were too busy to play with him.

Hisoka went back to his book. He couldn't concentrate: the words were recognisable, but they meant nothing to him. After a half-hearted attempt to grapple with the concept of a space-time continuum, his thoughts wandered back to Tatsumi.

Tatsumi-san won't let me help him with his work. Tatsumi-san won't let me treat his physical ailments. Tatsumi-san won't let me detect his feelings. Tatsumi-san won't let me do anything.

Hisoka yawned. Stubborn Tatsumi-san. Even Tsuzuki, for all his goofy habits and hidden fears, wasn't this guarded and secretive about himself.

He went to the book's index. Tatsumi's magnetic pull over him...maybe the book could explain it.

The words dissolved into moving lines. They danced across the page - just like the flitting shadows on Tatsumi's ceiling. Each night he watched them before he fell asleep, swirling and twisting, flouting physical laws with wild abandon...and wonder what fuelled their joyful dancing...

Hisoka's chin sank on his chest. The book slid from his lax fingers.

Thick shadows surged from under the desk to catch it.

Tatsumi held out his hand, and the shadows brought the book to him. He snorted in amusement when he saw the cover: A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking.

"Perfect bedtime reading. Enough to send any sensible person to sleep."

Free to watch Hisoka unobserved for the first time, Tatsumi took his fill. Hisoka's face was serene in repose: thick dark lashes flush against pale cheeks, unruly hair falling across his brow.

Tatsumi rested his elbows on the desk. With his right hand he made a gentle waving motion with his fingers. Shadow tendrils swept from behind the chair to brush the bangs from Hisoka's face. When they dissipated, the chestnut strands fell over his brow again.

Tatsumi frowned. Again the shadow tendrils brushed the hair back. Each time they finished their work, Hisoka's bangs stubbornly tumbled down.

Tatsumi pushed his glasses up his nose and returned to his work. "Look after him."

Waves of shadows rose up to envelope Hisoka. Ribbon-like tentacles guided his head and shoulders to a more comfortable position against the backrest. More shadows swirled around his arms, gently settling them in his lap. Below the seat, shadow tendrils pulled the lever to make the backrest recline, and lifted Hisoka's legs to create a temporary footrest.

Hisoka sighed. That was better.

The shadow wisp crept out of his sleeve. It flitted to his forehead and began to sweep the remaining bangs from his brow.

Hisoka's brow furrowed. Something felt ticklish. He rubbed his forehead and opened his eyes. He felt comfortable - too comfortable. Something wasn't right. It took several seconds for him to work it out.

The shadows on the ceiling were motionless. Why weren't they dancing? Each night they always danced...

Hisoka jack-knifed to a sitting position. The chair tipped then rocked wildly as the shadows compensated for his sudden movement. Hisoka gripped the armrests for support.

"Kurosaki-kun?" Tatsumi dropped his pen, equally startled. "Are you all right?"

"Tatsumi-san? How did I--" He saw the shadows around his raised calves, and the thick mass of darkness swirling beneath the reclining backrest and seat.

Relief flooded him. The dancing shadows were still here. For one awful moment he thought they'd abandoned him...

"You fell asleep." Tatsumi 's voice was gruff. "You should have listened to me when I told you to go home."

Hisoka reached down to the seething darkness, almost overbalancing in the chair as he tried to touch them. A thick tendril slid along his palm and encircled his forearm. Another tendril curled around his shoulders. They firmly guided him upright.

The shadows were protecting him from falling over. They looked out for him...while their master refused to grant Hisoka the same privilege.

Helpless frustration ignited into seething anger. "This isn't fair. You...you aren't being fair!"

Tatsumi blinked, eyes wide. "I beg your pardon?"

Impatiently Hisoka shook his floating legs. The shadowy footstool dissipated and guided his feet to the floor. "Tsuzuki was like this in Kyoto - but you're like this all the time! You help others yet you won't let anyone help you back. Just because you're the shadow master, you think you're all powerful--"

"Kurosaki-kun, strictly speaking I am a practitioner, not a master--"

"I don't care!" Hisoka pushed the chair back and stood up, trembling with the force of his feelings. "You're too proud to admit to any weakness. You act like you don't need anyone at all!"

"Nothing could be further from the truth." A bleak note crept into Tatsumi's voice. "I never claimed to be omnipotent--"

"Then stop acting like it! You use your shadows to help me - but you refuse to let me help you." Hisoka bowed his head, miserable at the realisation. "I know you prefer to keep your distance with most people, and I respect that. But...I thought I was different."

"Kurosaki-kun..." A pained expression passed over Tatsumi's features before he swivelled his chair around and stood up. With his back to Hisoka, he went to the window behind his desk and drew the curtains shut. "Sometimes distance is desirable, even necessary, to avoid suffocation."

"Suffocation? But how..." A horrible thought occurred to him. "Is this the real reason you're avoiding me?"

Tatsumi's shoulders slumped for a second, then straightened as he folded his arms. "Yes." He didn't turn around. "I thought this urge would ease over time. Proximity should lead to desensitisation, ne?" He snorted softly. "So much for that idea. You see, Kurosaki-kun, I must confess...your mere presence threatens what little discipline I possess."

"I never knew." Hisoka felt like the biggest fool. What kind of an empath was he? Surely he should have sensed some inkling beforehand. "Why...why didn't you tell me you found me suffocating?"

"What?" Tatsumi whirled around. "I never said such a thing!"

"But you just did! You said you didn't want to be suffocated...and I never had a clue."

"Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi's voice was heavy with irony, "I think you misunderstand."

"That's because you hide everything from me!" Renewed anger gave Hisoka the courage to march around the desk. "You hid these feelings the same way you hide everything else about yourself - blocking my empathy with your kagetsu powers! I hate it when you do that!"

"Do you?" Glittering blue eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Should I give you a taste of the alternative?" He loomed over Hisoka, a full head taller in height.

This was the look that sent the other shinigami scurrying for cover, and JuOhCho accountants hiding under their desks - Tatsumi on the brink of unleashing his formidable temper. With his empathy, Hisoka felt the tumultuous emotions surging through the cracking facade. Once such intense feelings would have intimidated him into a fearful retreat. Now all he felt was his own thrill of anticipation...combined with a longing so fierce it took his breath away.

"Show me." He held out his arms - and saw they were both covered in thick black shadows. They danced around his arms, down to the wrist and up to the elbow, curling around and around like living ribbons.

"Look!" Tatsumi swept his hand over them. "You tell me who's in danger of suffocation!"

The shadows dissipated for a few seconds, then reformed once more. They danced and whirled, forming strange patterns that made Hisoka dizzy. "They...they don't obey you?" He looked up at Tatsumi, eyes wide. "Why won't they listen?"

Tatsumi's lips curled. "Oh, they listen, Kurosaki-kun." He sat down once more, his elbows on the armrests, his gaze brooding. "The shadows obey my desires only too well."

Dancing on the ceiling at night, and now here in the office...fuelled by the desire of their master.

"You hid this," Hisoka whispered. His gaze went from the spiralling shadows to Tatsumi's stern face. "All this time...you kept this from me!" Elation only fuelled his anger. "And you're still hiding now!"

"It's for your own good. You want to be overwhelmed by my feelings for you? Each night I exhausted you with my selfish demands--"

"No!" Hisoka rushed forward to seize Tatsumi in a tight hug, nearly dislodging his glasses in his haste. "It's not like that - I wanted it too!" He pressed his face against the curve of his shoulder, inhaling the clean fragrance of starch and crisp aftershave overlying the unique scent of Tatsumi himself. "I still want it," he murmured. "I've never felt this way about anyone."

The shadows spread from Hisoka's arms to swirl and thicken around Tatsumi's torso, enclosing them together.

Awkwardly Tatsumi put his arms around him. "Kurosaki-kun..." he whispered. One of his hands stroked Hisoka's hair, caressing the scalp. "That makes two of us."

"Your shadows are proof - you can block your feelings, but the shadows reveal the truth." Hisoka lifted his head, eyes glowing. "You do want me here, don't you?"

"You fool. How could you ever doubt it?" Tatsumi grasped his hips and hauled him up. Hisoka found himself straddling Tatsumi's lap, the leather seat wide enough to accommodate his knees. "Each night I held you in my arms, the shadows joined in as well, binding you up so you could never escape me."

"No! They aren't like that!"

The shadows slowed their swirling movements. With Tatsumi taking the initiative, they knew they were no longer needed. They settled in their rightful spots - under furniture, within the creases and folds of clothing, between the small space separating the two figures locked in a close embrace.

"Kurosaki-kun, the shadows are precisely like that." Tatsumi looked up at him, his gaze softening with tenderness. "Many cultures have their own beliefs about shadow beings. Some believe they are ghosts or demons; some even speculate they are aliens." Hisoka snorted in disbelief, making Tatsumi smile. "But in every one of these myths, shadows are depicted as sinister in nature, a bad omen for the person unfortunate enough to catch sight of them."

"Silly superstition," Hisoka dismissed.

"Sometimes superstition has a basis in fact. My experience with the phantom arts has taught me that great power always comes with great responsibility. Those who forget their responsibility and misuse their abilities for personal gain pay a terrible price - they end up dependent on their powers, enslaved to the magic they sought to master."

"No!" Hisoka shook his head. "Not you!" He placed his hands on each side of Tatsumi's angular face. "I know you aren't like that. You care for me, Tsuzuki, everyone...even the Shoukanka. I feel it whenever I sense your emotions." With his empathy, he probed Tatsumi's mind, willing the kagetsu barriers to move aside.

"No!"

Heat flooded Hisoka's body. His limbs felt heavy and boneless. Tatsumi was the first to introduce him to this sensation - the languid warmth of stirring arousal. His entire body was melting like liquid chocolate...chocolate the exact shade of Tatsumi's hair. Hisoka ran his fingers through the silken strands, admiring its rich hue and gleaming texture.

Tatsumi gripped his wrists. "Kurosaki-kun...not here."

The warning note dimly registered, but Hisoka ignored it. A displeased Tatsumi looked disturbingly attractive...

Hisoka lowered his head. Tatsumi's unsmiling mouth tasted of tea and a surprising fruity sweetness. Hisoka tilted his head to taste more of him, ignoring the metal glasses pressing into his cheek.

Tatsumi leaned back against the headrest, trembling as he tried to resist...but it was all in vain. Resistance crumbling, he gave in with a growl of mingled frustration and desire. His tongue tangled with Hisoka's, teasing at first, then eager as he reached up to deepen the kiss. His fingers curled around the nape of Hisoka's neck, caressing the sensitive skin to urge him closer.

Hisoka pulled at Tatsumi's shirt, his hands roving over the starched collar, the vest, the leather armbands, the small buttons that refused to come undone. So neatly pressed, buttoned and buckled...how Hisoka longed to muss him up. Frustrated, he tore his mouth away to tug at the buckle of one armband.

"What's this for?" Hisoka yanked at it, making it tighten over Tatsumi's bicep.

Tatsumi pressed hot kisses against his jaw and throat. His hands pulled Hisoka's t-shirt free of his trousers. His splayed fingers roamed over warm skin, moulding Hisoka's narrow ribcage and waist, rediscovering the velvet flesh he'd denied himself for days. "It keeps...shirt sleeves up."

Hisoka clenched the material of Tatsumi's shirt, an involuntary movement that creased the starched fabric. "Wear...tailor-made shirts."

Tatsumi pulled him closer. "Armbands...more affordable." He lifted up Hisoka's sweatshirt and t-shirt to trace a path down the centre of his chest with lips and tongue.

Hisoka trembled against Tatsumi's roving hands and lips. Why was Tatsumi so hard to undress? It was so unfair - he could barely undo one shirt button with Tatsumi running his hands down his back, distracting him with possessive caresses that made him twitch and squirm in nervous anticipation. Wasn't there anything he could remove?

The glasses - symbol of discipline and sobriety and regimented order. That was it!

Hisoka lifted them off Tatsumi's face.

Tatsumi drew back, surprised.

Removing Tatsumi's glasses took years off him. His eyes were larger without the distorting effect of corrective lenses, making him appear vulnerable, human...and handsome. The sight made Hisoka's heart leap - after several days' absence, he'd forgotten how beautiful Tatsumi looked up close. "You can still see me, can't you?"

"I suffer from short-sightedness, Kurosaki-kun, not blindness."

"I know." Hisoka placed the glasses on the desk and leaned closer to study Tatsumi's face. Even without them, the glasses left their mark - indentations marring the bridge of his aristocratic nose.

Tatsumi tilted his head as he returned Hisoka's stare. His brows arched in quizzical amusement.

"Your eyes look bigger without glasses," Hisoka announced after several seconds. "Why don't you wear contacts?"

"In my lifetime, contact lenses were made of hard plastic. Only those who prized vanity over comfort went to the trouble of wearing them."

"But there are soft plastic ones available now. They've been around for years."

"So I've heard." Tatsumi's lips quirked in a rueful smile. "But I've become accustomed to wearing glasses. I've worn them nearly all my life. I suppose I'd feel naked without them now."

If Tatsumi only recalled hard contacts, then he must have worked in Meifu for several decades - maybe the 1960s or earlier. Longer than Watari, but not as long as Tsuzuki. It was a sobering thought.

Tatsumi leaned back in his chair, his arms resting on the waistband of Hisoka's jeans. "Would you like to know my chronological age?"

"No, not if you don't want to tell me. I mean, you've already kept bigger things secret from me like your chronic headaches and peptic ulcer--"

"Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi looked a little exasperated. "Contrary to what lies Tsuzuki-san and Watari-san may have told you, I'm not on my deathbed."

"But you have serious conditions that could flare up if you don't take care of yourself! That's why I came here in the first place." Hisoka raised his chin, enjoying the slight height advantage of being in Tatsumi's lap. "If you're not going to look after yourself, then I'm going to do it for you. You encouraged me when I doubted my ability to be Tsuzuki's partner, lifted my spirits when I thought we'd lost Tsuzuki to Muraki during the Kyoto case. You always believed in me - you've helped me ever since I began working here."

Tatsumi reached up to brush Hisoka's bangs from his forehead. Unlike Tsuzuki's boisterous hair-ruffling, Tatsumi touched him with a gentle hesitancy - as if he doubted his caresses were welcome, but couldn't resist touching Hisoka anyway. "I found inspiration in your courage. How could I not believe in you?"

Hisoka bowed his head, suddenly shy. "So let me help you in return, even if it's only in small things."

"Kurosaki-kun, there's really no need." Tatsumi smiled sadly. "I'm old enough to be your grandfather."

"No, you're not! You don't look it!"

Tatsumi gently guided Hisoka's head down, then whispered in his ear.

"Really?"

Tatsumi nodded.

Hisoka's wide-eyed surprise quickly shifted to determination. "I don't care how old you are. You still need someone to remind you you're a man, not a machine. You need to take time off to eat." He looked for the apple pie he'd left on the desk.

The plate was clean. There wasn't a crumb of pastry left.

"You ate it!" No wonder Tatsumi's mouth tasted so sweet. "You said you weren't hungry!"

"I wasn't until you began eating in front of me," Tatsumi replied mildly. His gaze twinkled with mischief. "I thought you'd be pleased."

"So I was right to bring it." Hisoka glared at him. "Does your stomach hurt? Do you have a headache?"

"Not in the slightest." He tilted his head curiously. "Is my well-being so important to you?"

"Of course it is, idi--!" Hisoka clamped his mouth shut before he finished the insult.

"You were saying?"

Hisoka bowed his head sheepishly. "Nothing, Tatsumi-san."

Tatsumi chuckled. "Don't be ashamed of your candour. It's part of your refreshing charm."

Hisoka flashed him a sidelong glance. "Really?"

"Really - in moderation, of course. Now let me clarify the facts about my health. I do suffer the odd bout of indigestion, but I assure you it's triggered more by spicy food than peptic ulcers - they haven't bothered me for years. My headaches only come on when I spend too much time reading small print - I rest my eyes every hour to avoid it."

"That's good, Tatsumi-san." So Tatsumi's ailments weren't as bad as he feared. Hisoka was relieved to hear this.

"I appreciate your concern for my health, Kurosaki-kun." The rich warmth in Tatsumi's voice made his sober words sound like lavish praise. "If I do feel any symptoms, I'll be sure to take your medicine. I hope this puts your mind at ease."

Embarrassed pleasure brought a flush to Hisoka's face. "Yes, Tatsumi-san. It does very much."

Tatsumi was accepting his assistance at last. It was high time he stopped being so stubborn.

Determined to do more, Hisoka spotted the papers on the desk. "Now let me help you with your activity report."

"No." Tatsumi's arms tightened around his waist. "This is my work, not yours. It would be inappropriate for you to carry out duties outside your designated position."

"But if you work too hard it could affect your health."

"Kurosaki-kun, would you want me taking part in every case you and Tsuzuki investigate in the Kyushu area?"

"No, of course not." Hisoka was affronted at the very idea. "Tsuzuki and I are the shinigami for Second Block, not you."

"And when you battled the owner of Kokakurou in Kyoto, would you have wanted me using my powers to protect you from harm?"

"No! It was my challenge to face alone! Any interference would be a breach of honour."

"I know," Tatsumi said quietly. "How I wanted to help you - but I knew you would never have permitted it." He caressed Hisoka's back, reassuring himself he was intact and whole. "This is why I should complete this report myself. When I became secretary I took on a new challenge - ensuring the smooth and efficient operation of this bureau." He swivelled the chair around and gestured at his cluttered desk. "Behold my battleground." He patted one pile of folders. "These are the enemies I must cut down to size."

Hisoka's brow puckered. He'd never seen paperwork in such a light before.

Tatsumi picked up his glasses and put them on, then picked up his pen. "Behold my humble weapons."

"Are you serious, Tatsumi-san?"

"When it comes to work, Kurosaki-kun, most definitely."

All these piles of paperwork - Tatsumi was determined to organise them into a semblance of order with the zealous dedication of an active shinigami warring with demons and evil spirits. There was nothing wrong with that. Challenges, like people, came in all shapes and sizes. What was trivial to one person could be a major test of character to another. It was the personal reward in proving oneself up to the task that truly mattered.

Hisoka looked at the desk with new respect. He knew the importance of proving oneself. "I understand now."

"Good." Tatsumi kissed his forehead. "Now I must return to work, and you should go home. Much as I enjoy your company, your presence is too pleasant a distraction for me to concentrate."

Hisoka slid down from the chair. "But you must dinner first. A small slice of pie will not sustain you if you are working late. A warrior must eat well before battle. Besides, I'm hungry."

"I thought you said you ate dinner?"

"I ate a small one," Hisoka replied glibly. "I was waiting to eat with you." He held out his hand.

The shadow wisp snaked out of his sleeve. It swirled around Tatsumi's wrist then back to Hisoka's wrist, forming a figure 8 in the space between them.

Hisoka smiled. Obeying the will of its master - exactly like the others. The mystery of the dancing shadows was solved at last.

"Very well." Tatsumi threw down the pen. "Dinner it is." He stood up and took Hisoka's hand. "I suppose I should keep track of your eating habits - make sure you do eat properly."

"Of course, Tatsumi-san. You must set a good example for me to follow." Hisoka squeezed his fingers and marched him out of the office.

The shadow thickened around their wrists, binding them together.