Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Konomi Takeshi does. I'm merely playing with them for the moment.

A/N: NOT mpreg, have no fear. And yes, there is an Atobe residing in my brain who is not a hundred percent gay. Be awed.

Strange Dreams

The child looked almost ridiculously small cradled in Kabaji's strong arms. Atobe hadn't known newborn babies could be so tiny. Small and fragile, little face all crunched up even in sleep… One little hand fumbled for the soft pink blanket, grasping its edge. Deep in sleep for now, she didn't react as Atobe leant closer to look at her. Here was one creature who wasn't one bit fazed by the great Atobe's prowess.

"Have you decided on her name yet?" Atobe asked, quietly, not daring to speak too loud lest he wake up the baby. For such a tiny thing, she had a fine set of lungs on her, as he'd already come to notice in the very short time he'd known her. Nobody had known her for long, of course. It was rather hard to form long-term acquaintances when you'd only lived for two weeks.

"Yume," Kabaji replied with an equally soft tone. "Yume Caroline."

Atobe gave him a sharp glance at that. Kabaji's expression didn't waver. Shaking his head softly, Atobe touched one of the clenched little fists with his fingertip. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Kabaji Yume," he murmured. "You'd better make your daddy proud and happy when you grow up, understood?"

Little Yume didn't react in any way whatsoever. Kabaji, though, smiled faintly. "Oh, she will," he said. "I'm sure she will."

Atobe just nodded wordlessly, looking at the small furrowed brow.

Yume was a beautiful child, Atobe soon came to notice. Every parent claimed their child was the most beautiful of all, of course, but Atobe was convinced that Yume was the most beautiful of them all, with her big blue eyes and pouty little mouth and the way she seemed to look right through him. Kabaji agreed, of course, proud as ever of his daughter, dressing her in the prettiest little dresses one could imagine. Atobe was more than happy to provide some of these dresses; he didn't come visit nowadays without a new gift for the little one. He visited often, too; it was his only way of seeing his best friend. Ever since Kabaji had resigned from his job as Atobe's personal assistant to take care of his daughter, Atobe had come to miss his constant reassuring presence. No matter what disaster struck, Kabaji would always be there, calm and secure, solving all the problems apparently just by being there. Now, however, Kabaji's world revolved around ten chubby little toes and a toothless smile, and Atobe was left to fend for himself.

He didn't complain, though. Even after the most stressful of days he never said a word, never complained about his new assistant who couldn't get anything done by himself or about the secretary who was obviously not competent enough for his job or the myriad other things that drove him crazy every day. Kabaji seemed to know nevertheless, though. Kabaji had always been good at listening, even when nothing was said at all. He said nothing, of course, Kabaji never said anything, he just sat there and was close and wordlessly worked the countless knots out of Atobe's tense shoulders while Yume slept happily in her crib. Kabaji continued the massage even as Atobe was completely relaxed, when nothing was left to say, both just sitting in silence until Yume woke up and smiled at them.

Yume's smile was the most charming thing Atobe had ever seen. He knew all about biology, about the programming in human brain to shield babies from danger, knew it was just an evolutionary reaction but found himself smiling back nevertheless. Her lips formed the most perfect pink little bow, slightly pouting as she breathed silently in her sleep, a hint of the forgotten smile even then visible on her face.

Atobe remembered another smile, another perfect bow, coral lipstick brushing against his skin, a silent pout in the darkness that he felt more than saw. He remembered tracing that bow, with his fingertip, then the tip of his tongue, tasting the sweetness there, feeling warm breath mingling with his own, warm just like the skin against his own.

"Your daughter will grow up to be a charmer," he said to Kabaji. Kabaji smiled somewhat sadly and didn't say anything.

Yume grew so fast, he noticed, one day she did little but ate and slept and pooped, and the next day she was tugging at his hair and looking at him demandingly from her father's arms. How dare he be so impudent as to refuse her obvious need to be held. Atobe took her somewhat gingerly, almost afraid to touch her. She was eerily light in his arms, still tugging at a lock of hair whenever she could reach one. Atobe smiled faintly at her and gave her quickly back to Kabaji.

"It's okay for you to hold her, too, you know," Kabaji said quietly even as he took the child back into his own arms. "It's not like you're going to break her."

"I – I can't." Atobe swallowed, shaking his head. Then, turning away so he didn't have to look at Kabaji's eyes, so honest and sincere, he murmured, "I don't have the right to."

As always, Kabaji was silent, pressing a light kiss on Yume's hair instead of speaking.

It soon became obvious Yume was going to have her mother's hair, growing thick and black as it did even though she was but a baby. It had been so soft, that hair, Atobe recalled, like pure silk between his fingers, dark even in the moonlight like a spot of ink as it spread on the pillow, a dark halo to frame an equally beautiful face. Yes, it was that hair Yume had inherited, the hair that could drive a man crazy, she was still but a baby but Atobe knew it would be like that when she grew up.

He put a butterfly clip on her little forehead tuft and somehow managed to return her smile.

People sneered at Kabaji behind his back. Atobe knew they did. He didn't even need to hear it to know it, didn't need to hear the rumors and whispers, going around even at the office whenever they thought he couldn't hear them. It was a disgrace, they said, to become a father out of wedlock, and has anyone even heard of the mother. She probably wasn't anything special, obviously not good enough for Kabaji to marry her, or maybe she was already betrothed to someone else or maybe she died giving birth. Whatever the reason, it was simply shameful, so very shameful for Kabaji to raise a child all by himself and call her his own, how could the child ever become a proper human without a mother there to care for her and how was he even going to support them both. Obviously his family wouldn't help him, now would they, they'd be dragging their own name through mud as well if they still acknowledged him, surely they couldn't afford such a blunder.

Atobe heard all this, heard all the whispers, and once he was finally done with work he went over to Kabaji's little place for the precious few moments he had for himself every day, watching Kabaji cooing at his daughter and playing with her and changing her diapers and rocking her to sleep. He thought of the woman, so young and so beautiful, and her father and his own father and the frowns deeper than all the pits of Hell and Kabaji standing by his side, and then he shook the thoughts from his mind and instead listened to the lullaby Kabaji was quietly singing.

Kabaji would often sit by her crib, Atobe noticed, just sit there and look at his slumbering daughter, a big hand sometimes reaching to pet her tiny head gently, so gently. She smiled in her sleep sometimes, so very pretty as she did, and sometimes if she was still feeling dry and fed when she was done with sleeping she would wake up with a smile and Atobe would see Kabaji's face light up in response. It was the smile of a father, he concluded, a loving father, one who would risk things such as reputation and good name just to get to see that smile every day, every single day because she was his daughter wasn't she.

Atobe swallowed and looked away.

He got busier as the business picked up, too busy to visit even nearly as often as he would have liked to. Every day became every other day, then once or twice a week, and no matter how much he tried to delegate the work it always seemed to pile up until all he knew anymore were papers to be signed and enquiries to be answered and calls to be made. Kabaji never said anything about the visits growing so rare, just as he had never said anything as he listened to Atobe not complain about his work, he was silent as ever as he massaged Atobe's abused shoulders and Yume smiled at him and hit Atobe's knee with a rattler.

Yume's eyes were blue, Atobe noted idly. Not the dark brown of her mother's eyes, not the nigh-black of Kabaji's; they were blue instead, blue and big and sharp as she looked at him. He knew those eyes, shape and gaze and colour. He saw them in the mirror every morning.

Kabaji watched them as they engaged in a little staring contest. At last, however, she turned her gaze away, finding something more interesting than some old man with a mole on his face. Spotting Kabaji, she smiled and reached out her arms, chiming cheerfully, "Papa, paa-paa!"

"She has your eyes," Kabaji remarked quietly as he picked her up. Atobe chuckled bitterly, kissed her hair and left to England on a business trip.

He stayed longer than he might have absolutely needed to. When he returned to Japan it was night. Kabaji had offered to pick him up from the airport but he took a taxi instead; he wasn't about to be responsible for Kabaji having to put Yume into a car seat and then try to get the wailing child back to sleep. Instead of his own apartment, however, he gave the taxi a different address, coming to a halt in front of an ordinary apartment block hiding dozens of ordinary families with ordinary secrets.

He had the key. Of course he had the key. Just about the first thing Kabaji had done upon moving in had been to get him a copy of the key. Atobe now used this key to let himself in, not wanting to rouse either of the hopefully slumbering inhabitants.

Kabaji, he found, had fallen asleep in the armchair next to Yume's crib, one arm still resting on the edge of the crib, reached out to soothe her even though they had both dozed off long since. Atobe stood in the doorway of the nursery for a moment, looking at them both in silence. Finally he pushed himself away from the doorframe, padding softly across the room. Leaning over the crib, he adjusted the soft baby blanket over the slumbering child.

"Forgive me for making such demands," he whispered at her. "You've already made me so very proud, little one."

He straightened his back, then, looking at Kabaji. Loyal Kabaji, faithful Kabaji, always there to fix the mistakes he was too proud to even admit having made, always looking out for him, taking care of him even though Atobe was the older of the two. No matter what blunder he committed, he could always count on Kabaji to find a way to fix it. Kabaji never scolded him, never called him an idiot even when he might have deserved it, never did anything but smiled softly and set things right even when it meant he was the one to pay the price for Atobe's mistakes.

"I'm sorry, old friend," he whispered as he leant closer, his lips only barely brushing against Kabaji's hair. "I'm so sorry…"

He walked out of the nursery and went to sleep.

Kabaji's bed was obviously free yet Atobe slept on the couch instead, too deep in slumber from his exhaustion after the hellishly long flight to even stir as a shadow walked past him at some point of the night. Returning a moment later with an offering of a milk bottle to the wailing beast that commanded it, the shadow paused at his side, looking down at him before continuing on to meet the demands of its proud yet merciful master.

Atobe woke up twice in the morning, once to notice that he had been covered with a blanket while he slept, then another time to call his idiot of a secretary and cancel all of his appointments for the day. The third time he woke up it was already past noon, the scent of coffee and a childish squeal of, "Kee-kee" greeting him as he walked into the kitchen. Kabaji didn't even look up from his attempts of feeding his daughter, merely nodding silently in response to Atobe's half-murmured, "Morning," pointing at a bag of Atobe's favourite brand of toast on the kitchen counter.

"I was going to wake you up when I was done feeding her," Kabaji said as Atobe moved to make himself some rather belated breakfast. Atobe mumbled a quiet thank you and put five slices through the toaster until he finally acquired one that was just crispy enough for him. Kabaji wiped Yume's face and hands, set her on the floor with her toys, and ate the four slices Atobe had deemed unworthy.

"Let's go shopping today," Atobe said after eating two and a half slices of toast and drinking far too much coffee. "Yume'll soon need a bigger blanket with the way she keeps growing. Clothes, too." Kabaji nodded and smiled just a bit around a mouthful of Atobe's tenth slice of toast.

Maybe it was too late to fix past mistakes, but Atobe figured he could just as well try and avoid making any new ones.