Jitters, a yami no matsuei fanfic

Jitters

Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei belongs to Yoko Matsushita. I'm just a girl with a case of the munchies.

Rating: Eh, PG. The boys can angst some other time.

Pairings: Tsuzuki/Hisoka and Watari/Tatsumi. I'm not too particular on seme/uke, so pick your preference.

Summary: Just a short, fluffy vignette on Tsuzuki and Hisoka getting ready for their first real and official "date," with the help of Watari and Tatsumi. As much as it is a Tsuzuki and Hisoka get-together fic, it's also a Tatsumi and Watari get-together fic.

Prelude Notes: I've got four other longer YnM fics lined up. This is just a puff piece that popped in my head. Funny, I can come up with fic plots no problem, but not topics for college application essays.

"I can't do this."

Watari sighed, examining his work. The shirt would have to do. Trying to iron out the deeply ingrained wrinkles in Tsuzuki's white dress shirt using a portable iron and his computer table, the blonde scientist had discovered that it would take an act of God to smooth out the creases. He unplugged the iron, watching as a shirtless Tsuzuki paced the perimeter of the laboratory, followed by an aviary parade composed of 003 and Watari's other friends, the penguin and the toucan who are oft neglected.

"Sure you can. It's easy," he replied, scrutinizing the shirt. On second thought, perhaps it would be better if he fetched one from the small bureau he kept in his closet-sized bunkroom. Watari usually slept back there on the creaky camp bed if he hadn't fallen asleep over his paperwork again. Only rarely did he venture to that other world he called an apartment.

"Yeah, easy for you," the violet-eyed man retorted. He emptied the pockets of his slacks while he made his circuit, dropping ticket stubs and bus fare and crumpled up fuda papers on the clean counters. "I haven't been on a date since I was going out with Tatsumi."

Watari pursed his lips, trying to recall the contents of his bureau. There really was nothing in it that Tsuzuki could wear with his slacks. He tossed the shirt at the brunette, who missed it completely. 003 picked it up, shaking it out as she did so.

"Yes, but I haven't been on a date since I was alive," the scientist countered. "You will be fine, Tsuzuki, I promise. Believe me, it could be far worse."

"How could it be worse?" he groaned, taking the shirt and jamming his arms into the sleeves. Watari grinned viciously.

"Rather than Bon, you could be going out to dinner with your dearest darling Terazuma."

Tsuzuki smacked him over the head when he walked past. "Gee, thanks!"

"I can't do this."

Tatsumi wiped his glasses with a clean cloth, examining his project. It would have to do. Other than the one tuxedo, Hisoka didn't own anything that was relatively nice, nice enough for a trendy uptown restaurant, that is. So he'd given the boy some of his own clothes to borrow, a pair of drab olive-gray dress pants that didn't particularly fit anymore and a pale green shirt that complimented his emerald eyes nicely. Too bad all of it was far too big for the boy's slender frame. He'd done his best to take up the seams with Wakaba's tiny emergency sewing kit, but the man was no tailor.

"You will be fine, Hisoka, there is nothing to worry about," he replied, cultured voice trying to sound soothing and composed.

"Nothing for you. You're not going on your first date ever," the boy grumbled, fussing with the cuffs of the shirt, which came well past his fingers.

Tatsumi stifled a sigh with his hand, picking up the mug of lukewarm green tea he'd let grow cold on the edge of his desk and swirling the contents with apathy, regarding his charge more.

"No, but I do remember what it was like. This is just casual dinner with Tsuzuki, you are not doing anything but going out to eat, a normal habit when dealing with Tsuzuki, I recall. The only difference is that you will be dressed more formally and Tsuzuki will be doing his damnedest to impress you. Besides, it could be worse."

Hisoka shot him a virulent glare, his hands pausing in their motions with the cuffs. "How so?"

"You could be going out with the mistresses Saya and Yuma, both at one time."

The blonde boy's glare intensified, becoming a vengeful glower. "That's just cruel."

Watari bit his lip, trying to assist in tucking in Tsuzuki's shirttails. The older man was squirming, his face a funny shade of red.

"Wa-ta-ri! Quit trying to molest me!" he whined, batting away slender fingers.

"Hold still and let me tuck in your shirt! You look sloppy, and besides, if we tuck it in and you put your coat on, perhaps we can hide the fact that this poor shirt is wrinkled beyond recognition," the scientist countered, jamming the last of the white shirt into Tsuzuki's pants and giving the waistband a tug. Grumbling, the elite Shinigami fastened up the black slacks and belted them.

"I didn't think he'd actually want to go through with this. I ask him all the time and he usually just glares at me, calls me an idiot, and goes back to work."

Watari shrugged. "Maybe he's finally realized he's got some sort of romantic attachment for you."

"Maybe he's just doing it to shut me up."

"That too."

The blonde sighed, picking up the suit jacket from the chair-back it had been slung on and shook it out, holding it in front of him like a matador's cape. He knew Tsuzuki was nervous; it had taken him nearly a year to finally put to rest some of the ghosts of his past that continued haunting him. And, while he knew that there would be no respite from Muraki until they were absolutely certain he was dead and not coming back, he'd recovered enough from all of those traumatic endeavors to get up enough nerve to ask Hisoka out for dinner, the partner whom he'd harbored a crush on from day one.

"What am I supposed to talk about?" he inquired, sliding his arms into the proffered coat.

"Nothing that would make Bon angry," Watari replied flippantly.

Tsuzuki pouted. "Everything I say makes Hisoka angry."

"That's true. Just be yourself, Tsuzuki…and I mean your real self, not the silly façade that you're always putting on in front of us. I know what you're really like under all that goofy bravado, and I'm sure Bon does too, which would be why he likes you so much. Just keep the conversation light, no mentioning difficult casework or any scary rapist men. And if you can't think of anything to say, don't say anything. Keeping quiet doesn't hurt."

"I guess," Tsuzuki muttered, jerking the jacket over his shoulders.

Tatsumi sighed, fixing Hisoka's shirttails. They insisted on either hanging over the waist of his tightly cinched slacks or bulging distastefully at the pocket seams. Hisoka stood stock-still, arms raised outwards, letting the older man fuss over him.

"Perhaps Wakaba has something smaller," he murmured.

Hisoka glowered. "I'm not wearing girls' clothing, Tatsumi. This will be fine."

The brunette secretary nodded, still trying to figure out what to do with the shirt. He really didn't want to cut it, Saya and Yuma had given it to him ten years ago on his birthday and it was a rather expensive silk shirt. The tails were tucked in and then untucked and then tucked in again. None of it looked right.

"Why did I even agree to do this?" Hisoka sighed, sounding as if the date were some sort of painful procedure. "I should have just told him no."

Tatsumi shrugged, remembering that the Gushoshin were hoarding articles of clothing that were left behind by some of Tsuzuki's previous partners. Perhaps they had something Hisoka-sized.

"You can't deny him anything. I know, I couldn't either. I still can't. And because Tsuzuki loves you, Hisoka. I don't even have to look at him to know he does," he replied quietly.

"I…I'm sorry, Tatsumi," the boy stammered.

"It's all right," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I may always love him, but I've gotten over Tsuzuki."

Hisoka nodded hesitantly. "What are we supposed to talk about?"

"Nothing that would make Tsuzuki cry."

"Tatsumi, everything I say makes that idiot cry."

He chuckled, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose again. "True. Just be yourself…and not that coldhearted bastard everyone around here thinks you are. You're too young to be frowning so much, you'll develop worry lines. Now, I'm going to see if I can find something smaller than this, because it's bothering me. Stay here and practice smiling. Tsuzuki's always complaining about how you never smile."

"I suppose," he grumbled, unbuttoning the too-big shirt.

"Do you have everything, Tsuzuki?" Watari asked, adjusting the collar and cinching up Tsuzuki's tie, which had been hanging limply about his neck previously. Tsuzuki nodded absently, more concerned with the fact that his tie was practically strangling him, as he never wore it properly tied up.

"What about flowers?" the scientist prompted.

"Oh no!" the brunette Shinigami moaned, his violet eyes going wide with shock. "There isn't enough time for me to go out and get any…Watari, what do I do? What am I going to do?!"

He patted the older man's shoulder reassuringly, crossing to a cupboard and pulling out a terra cotta flowerpot filled with potting mix. He opened another cabinet and brought forth a flask containing a viscous aquamarine colored fluid.

"I've got it covered, Tsuzuki. Behold the genius of Yutaka Watari! Instant bouquet!"

Tsuzuki gaped at him. "Are you sure this will work?"

"Positive. That's how Terazuma got those lovely flowers for Wakaba's birthday. This is just some seeds in a concentrated solution of plant food, water, and a few chemicals to induce instantaneous growth. This will be like watching a time-elapsed video in science class, ne?"

"I'll have to take your word for it," he mumbled. Sometimes Watari forgot that Tsuzuki had lived in the early 1900s, when there was no such thing as videocassettes for science class. Then again, the more he thought about it, Tsuzuki realized he'd never really been in a science class either.

He eagerly watched as the young chemist dumped the liquid into the flowerpot, moving the container to the windowsill, where the last rays of Meifu sunlight were streaming in. The soil gave a sporadic twitch, granules of dirt shaking with hyperactivity, until stalks shot up from the earth, bearded irises blossoming in gold and blue and white almost instantly. Watari grabbed a small pair of pruning shears and clipped them, piling the flowers on the counter.

"Watari, you're incredible!"

He grinned. "I know. Hang on and let me see if I've got some paper or cellophane or something to wrap them in. I don't think Bon would appreciate it if you just gave him these as is."

The young Shinigami flitted around the laboratory, snatching several rubber bands off of his computer desk and locating a roll of clean white butcher paper. He neatly wrapped up the irises and proudly presented them to his amethyst-eyed companion.

"There you are, love, flowers for Bon. Now if I can get that same thing to work on vegetables, I'll be in business!"

"Thank you so much, Watari. You don't know how much I appreciate this."

His smile widened, if it were even possible. "Well, you can repay me by standing up for me next time Tatsumi accuses me of spiking the coffee. Some of those potions I do not put in there. I swear, I wouldn't be surprised if Terazuma comes in here and borrows things, just so something interesting happens and he can have something to rant about."

Hisoka adjusted the cuffs on the new shirt Tatsumi had brought. It had turned out that Tsuzuki had been partners with a very small eighteen-year-old somewhere in the seventy-plus years he'd been working in the Shokan Division, and the Gushoshin twins had kept some of the clothes he'd left in his locker after he'd moved on. At any rate, there was a pair of slate gray slacks and a periwinkle blue dress shirt in the box of discarded clothes they kept in the back of the reference section, and both seemed to fit Hisoka far better.

"This should be everything, I guess," he sighed. "I don't have to give Tsuzuki anything, do I?"

Tatsumi shook his head. "He was the one who asked you out, therefore it is proper custom that he bring you something, not the other way around. You just have to show up and look nice."

He nodded, almost glumly. "What if he brings me flowers?"

"I don't see what your problem is, Hisoka," Tatsumi replied, coming to the realization that he would not be getting any paperwork done tonight. It was already encroaching on the usual quitting time, which meant everyone else would be filing in their reports, which meant he had to sort them and approve them, which meant he wouldn't be finishing his own work. He also realized that as soon as Hisoka and Tsuzuki left, Watari would be coming in, keen on discussing the matter of the two best Shinigami and their awkward little relationship.

"Well, isn't it tradition to bring someone roses on a date?" the boy asked pointedly. Ah yes, Tatsumi was now remembering Hisoka's aversion of roses, how he would forever associate the flower with his rapist and murderer.

"Tsuzuki knows you hate roses, he won't bring you any, don't worry," he answered reassuringly, fluffing the boy's ash-blonde bangs in an almost familial fashion.

"I must seem like a real fool to be so nervous about this."

He smiled kindly. "No. I have it on good authority that Tsuzuki is a nervous wreck also. He cares about you and he wants tonight to go well."

He nodded, green eyes full of worry and perhaps just the tiniest glimmer of admiration, though whether for the secretary or for the partner he was worrying about, it can't be said.

"Are you ready?"

"I suppose," he groaned, his answer coming in a heavy sigh.

"Tsuzuki, calm down and get going. You don't want Bon to get mad at you for being late for the date you asked him out on, do you?" Watari pointed out, nudging him towards the door.

"I know, I know. But before I go…how do I look?"

He stretched out his arms, bouquet clutched in one hand, offering himself up for inspection. Watari straightened his tie one last time and ruffled the chocolate brown hair.

"Like a suave, debonair Shinigami who's going to sweep his partner off his feet. Now get out of here, go have your nice dinner! You deserve it."

"Right!" Tsuzuki cheered, a charming smile on his face.

Watari followed him down the hallway to the front lobby, leaving the lab in the capable talons of his favorite avian assistant. They were hardly there a minute when Tatsumi and Hisoka appeared from the other side, entering from the door closer to Tatsumi's office. The secretary nodded at his young charge before crossing to Watari's side, the spectators of the unfolding drama.

"Good evening, Tsuzuki."

"Evening, Hisoka. You look nice," he said smoothly, his charming smile open and honest.

Hisoka blushed, smiling ever so slightly. "Thanks, you do too."

Tsuzuki lit up at the sight of his usually dour partner smiling. "Ah, these are for you!"

He presented the bouquet with little ceremony. The blonde peeked into the wrappings, his emerald eyes widening with what the audience thought to be something akin to childlike delight.

"Tsuzuki, how did you know I liked irises?" he asked, holding the flowers tighter.

"I'm your partner, it's my job to know," the elite Shinigami replied. "Should we go? Our reservations are for six-thirty, but I thought maybe we could take a walk first. The city looks really pretty at night, the main drag lights up like Christmas."

Hisoka slipped his arm around Tsuzuki's. "I think I'd like that."

Tatsumi and Watari exchanged furtive smiles as they watched their respective projects walk out the front door, arm-in-arm, conversing quietly. The two men relaxed as soon as they were out of earshot, their coworkers having transported to the Living World.

"My gods! Tsuzuki could not have been a bigger wreck!" the blonde moaned, stretching his arms over his head.

Tatsumi chuckled. "Hisoka was hardly any better."

Watari nudged his glasses, which had been sliding down his nose after his catlike stretch, back into place. His amber eyes were full of an almost seductive mischief.

"If it had been us, there'd have been none of that nonsense," he said casually.

Tatsumi raised an eyebrow. "What are you getting at, Watari?"

"Oh nothing. I was just thinking…ah hell, Tatsumi, do you want to go get dinner? My treat?"

The secretary smiled. "I'd like that. And perhaps coffee afterwards. Tsuzuki was in my office this morning raving about some new café that opened up in my district."

"Maybe we should just skip dinner and go straight to dessert, then," the scientist suggested, stripping off his labcoat as he spoke.

"Dessert and coffee sound very good to me. I'll meet you back here in five minutes, I've got to close up the rest of the office, and I'm sure you need to shut down the lab."

Watari nodded, catching Tatsumi's hand before he had the chance to walk away. Blue eyes stared at him inquisitively. The younger Shinigami, a rosy blush dusting his face, kissed the shadow-master's cheek lightly.

"Five minutes."

Tatsumi thought for a moment, returned the kiss, and took him by the hand. "The Gushoshin are still up there in the library, they can lock up. Let's just go."

"And some people think no good can come from interoffice relationships," Watari sighed, walking out into the clean night air, fingers laced with Tatsumi's.

Finis

Postlude Notes: Waii, this is my first finished Yami no Matsuei fic! I'm so excited! And I thought it turned out pretty well too. Please, let me know what you thought. Bigger, better things are on the way, once I find some time to sit down and work on them.