Natural Instinct

Half-slumped over his desk and furiously concentrating, Miyagi scribbled his comments on what seemed to be the thousandth exam script he'd read that day. Vacation had started a week ago for students, but for professors like himself, marking hell had just begun. He had been in the office since yesterday, and just over an hour ago he had let finally let Hiroki go home. But Miyagi himself, being a true workaholic, had sworn a personal oath not to leave before today's allocated work was done. Despite his efforts, however, the unmarked stack of papers still piled high, showing no signs of depleting.

He was so absorbed in his work, he barely noticed the sound of footsteps coming into the room, nor the sound of the door quietly closing.

And then, the sound of Shinobu's voice was in his ear, and his arms wrapped around his waist. "I've missed you."

The suddenness of the embrace was both surprising, and strangely intruding. Miyagi pushed the arms away and shook himself free. Without turning back, he hunched closer towards his work. "I'm busy." Immediately, he regretted what he said, and a slow-burning self hatred arose in the depths of his stomach. But his pride - his damned pride, prevented him from looking back. What was Shinobu doing here anyway? He had no right to be in the office. They had agreed on this long ago.

But his concentration had been disrupted, and his students' handwriting made no sense to him; they were but black marks on the paper, what did they mean? Miyagi could still feel Shinobu's presence behind him; helpless, disconsolate. Of course he had meant it to be a pleasant surprise. None of the other staff or students were here, and he hadn't been home in a while. At that moment, Miyagi loathed himself.

Setting his pen down in resignation, he sighed deeply and swiveled his chair around. Shinobu stood there, a lone figure amidst the carelessly strewn books on the floor. He was clutching a thermos flask, and deliberately not looking at the older man. Miyagi felt a desperate jab at his heart.

"Come here," he said. The gruff tone in his voice was gone, but the abandoned puppy needed further encouragement. Miyagi stretched out a hand; obediently, Shinobu approached, but hesitantly. Miyagi knew how hard it had been for the younger man to say something like 'I missed you", and he had single-handedly rejected him - worse than if he had slapped him in the face.

A surge of guilt overwhelmed him, and as Shinobu came nearer, Miyagi grabbed his elbow; perhaps more aggressively than he had intended, and pulled the younger man's slim frame closer to his. The thermos flask rolled onto the floor as Miyagi buried his face inside the layers of Shinobu's clothes; the smell was warm and comforting.

Taken aback by Miyagi's sudden temperamental change, Shinobu was abashed and slightly lost for words. He felt the heat on his cheek; he had never managed to control his own blushing, something which he hated about himself. "Um -" he searched around for something matter-of-fact to say; "I brought you soup." He attempted to set himself free, struggling slightly but not really trying. In any case, Miyagi wasn't listening, and his grip was too tight for Shinobu to break free. He seemed to be lost already in his own world, or just simply exhausted. Tentatively - for he sometimes felt Miyagi was like a bomb, ready to be set off - Shinobu placed his arms around the older man's neck.

As if something in him had suddenly been activated, all the emotions that Miyagi had tried desperately to bottle up surged upwards like a torrent. To hell with them, he found himself thinking. Who was 'them'? He didn't exactly know; but in a moment he had pushed Shinobu roughly to the floor. The surprised gasp that Shinobu breathed into his ear was all the encouragement he needed. The office was dark; it was already dusk, and Miyagi had to rely on his senses, which were half numb from exhaustion and overwork. His lips were searching for Shinobu's; finding them, he kissed him lightly, and again. They were softer than he remembered, and tasted sweet, vaguely of cinnamon. His fingers travelled across Shinobu's neck and downwards, as he attempted to unbutton his shirt. Why is he wearing so many layers? he thought, vaguely irritated, but affectionately so. He never fully appreciated how thin the young man had become. Had it always been so easy to pin him down? But unlike the first time, Shinobu was not awkward, or struggling, but receptive. He felt Shinobu's fingers on his back, boldly pushing up his shirt to feel the skin underneath. When had he learned all this? For a moment, Miyagi pulled back and looked directly into Shinobu's soft brown eyes, searching for the answer.

The expression in his eyes said it all.

I love you, Miyagi.

I want to make you feel good.

Then Shinobu's arms tightened around his neck, his back arched, and he fell deeper into the embrace, which threatened to take his breath away.

*

When it was over, they lay side by side on the floor, which probably hadn't been scrubbed for at least a week and was covered in dusty tomes, but they didn't care.

Facing the ceiling and holding Shinobu's hand in his, Miyagi took a deep breath: "I'm sorry for what happened earlier."

When he heard no reply, Miyagi turned to look at Shinobu; his eyelids were slowly drooping, as if he were about to fall asleep, but a slow smile played around his lips, and Miyagi knew he was forgiven.

A/N: I just felt the sudden need to write some fluff, you know? :D Here's a tribute to my favorite pairing of the three. Hope you enjoyed it! ^^