DISCLAMER:: I don't own these characters. Duh.
PT.1::
Tatsumi sits at his desk one bright, rather perky morning; checking his email responses on and sipping from the depths of a very steep, very foreboding black cup of coffee. He also dons a tee-shirt which reads in large, simple font, "I'm at my most informative when pissing people off", and loose-fit khaki's. For this day, O this day is the most glorious of minor office holidays: Casual Friday. Watari can "technically" be found somewhere in the depths of his bright, hopelessly perplexing lab which the company has lost an average of three janitors to every month. Some claim the lost victims can be tied to the awkwardly confusing camouflage wallpaper of chibi-bread-slicers, others say it's all a conspiracy to hide the gender-changing experimentees gone horribly array.
There is a sudden, deliberate knock on the office door. Minutes of ignoring pass. One large, rather impatient knock proceeds. Tatsumi grumbles to himself. Why should he have to put up with stray dead souls wandering into their office on the all-holiest of holies; Casual Friday?! Soon a pattern of furious little knocks impedes in place of the previously large, rather haughty ones.
Tatsumi sighs with the weight of his obvious surrender, yelling "IT'S OPEN!!"
The door opens with that slow, deliberate purpose which only means that someone important to the story line must be on the other side.
"Greeat," Tatsumi mutters. "Plot development."
A man comes in wearing one of those white polos with the little-man-on a-horse-logo on the corner pocket; and straight-fit white blue jeans with white sandals. His hair is-you guessed it -white, and seeeming to very strategically cover up one eye underneath his glimmering spectacles. He also appears to be carrying some sort of a doctor's bag.
Yes, it seems that we all must pay homage to the Casual Friday gods.
Quickly, Tatsumi's studious mind makes two careful observations:
This man is probably evil, judging by that VERY creepy eyeball peeking out from beneath the strands of hair covering the left side of the man's face; and
This man cannot dress.
The brown-haired individual behind the computer frowns, "Can't this wait until Monday?"
The other man gives him a cold stare, followed by a habitual adjusting of his glasses. "No, I'm afraid it cannot. I am Dr. Muraki, and I was called out to give a Mr. Tsuzuki his annual physical examination, and it's very…important…that he receives it as soon as possible." The man's visible eye is gleaming perversely; which was physically impossible up until this moment. One cannot be sure what his other eye is doing, chances are it is something much worse.
"Uhhm, as much as I enjoy the suffering of Tsuzuki, I don't believe he's in at the mome-"
A large, apocalyptic-like BOOM erupts from the depths of Watari's lab, followed by an akward olive-aroma seeping from the door cracks by way of some sort of multi-colored smoke. Tatsumi mumbles, "Gohddamnit" for the fifth time that day, pulls some 'rainforest fresh' aroma-spray from underneath his desk, and begins madly spraying it about the office.
Muraki quirks a brow, "If you could inform me of where he might be located at this moment…"
Watari emerges suddenly from the lab doors, no less than a golden-haired angel in, eh, Hawaiian shirt and shorts; coughing furiously. After the smoke crawls back to whatever test tube in the lab it emerged from, Watari attempts to speak.
"Yes…well…terribly sorry! It appears that my pudding recipe isn't turning out quite as planned-"
His patience drained down to it's last drop of solubility, Muraki coughs impatiently; "Does ANYONE know where ANYBODY is located in this damn place?!"
Watari looks at the mysterious, obviously villainous man and replies sweetly, "I do believe that they're in another fan fiction."
"Nani?!"
Tatsumi sighs, "I don't know…I don't know what the hell he's talking about half of the time…"
The golden-locked Watari smiles, " If you're looking for Tsuzuki or Hisoka, they're in a lemon fan fic, I believe; at the Regal love hotel."
Dr. Muraki utters a quick "Goodday," and glides quickly out of the door in the manner of suave male villains everywhere.
"Who was that?" Watari blinks curiously.
"Entertainment," Tatsumi grins. "For Tsuzuki, at least."
Pt2::
The daybreak glides across the water below the Regal Lovel Hotel, creating breathtakingly intricate patterns of ripples no less incredible than that of a spider's web. Nature seems to harmonize with it's surroundings, making the wind chimes chirp and sing that hang just outside of Tzusuki's hotel room. On the king-sized, luxurious crimson bed in this particular room sits a certain two supernatural detectives.
A single, crystalline tear glides down Hisoka's cheek. "T-Tsuzuki…I never knew you felt…so…"
Tsuzuki presses a finger to the boy's smooth, perfect lips. "Shh, Everything will be all right now."
His breath is suddenly so close, so warm on Hisoka's surprised lips; and he is all-too-willing to have this taller, violet-eyed man drape his body across his own, envelop every ounce of his being; inescapable between the soft matress and somehow softer velveteen skin-
{BAM}
Hisoka dodges Tsuzuki's next advance and jerks upward on the bed. "The fuck?!"
Tsuzuki lands with an overtly PO'd "MOOMPH!!" into the depths of the skooshy red mattress. After struggling for breath in five-or-so layers of cover; he re-surfaces for precious, life-giving air and immediately wishes he hadn't.
At the door stands a more-than-normally smug Muraki, wearing nay but a strategically-placed IV pole and surgical gloves (I say nay because he was still wearing sandals; it just isn't sanitary to walk around barefoot in a love hotel.)
Hisoka blushes furiously, madly, an untraceably large amount of adverbs ending in 'ly'; and pulls the covers over his half-nude body. Tsuzuki utters a shriek comparable only to those of Japanese schoolgirls in cheap anime tentacle hentais; and does a jump/roll onto the opposing side of mighty bed. Everyone quickly sweat drops at that last feat; followed by plot cue and continuation.
Muraki pulls on one surgical glove and lets it go, causing said glove to emanate that skanky {{SPAP!}} noise uttered only by things such as whips and other slapping utensils. Tsuzuki can be heard shuddering on the other side of the bed (Yes, that's right, heard). Hisoka is currently occupied on trying to mentally uncover how, and more importantly why, that IV pole is choosing to stay in it's current position.
Muraki smirks at every animate and inanimate object visible in the room, uttering;
"The doctor is IN."
Tsuzuki squeals for retribution, moreso zooming than running out onto the balcony. What he hopes to accomplish in closing himself off on a couple feet of wood suspend above six floors, no one is quite certain of. Muraki calmly follows him out, IV wheels uttering an entirely unnerving {squeeekk} every few feet or so. Sounds of a vicious struggle pervade, followed by various tones of screaming and a large {SPLASH} noise. More splashing, presumably farther away. Hisoka blinks. He gets out of bed and walks out onto the balcony.
Perhaps the scene that he views in the pool below would be much more disturbing if half of it wasn't underwater. Or maybe it would be less so, the scene is just too friggin' confusing from six floors' distance to correctly decipher in any way, shape or form. He sighs with all the deep frustration of his soul and walks back into the room to get his shirt.
"Jeez…" he mutters, "THAT really ruins the mood…."HEY; waitaminute!!!....What were we doing in a skanky love hotel anyway?! And wait, how did my shirt get off?? I don't remember taking it off…"
Special thanx to:: the makers of IV poles, gloves, and sandals; they saved that whole situation from becoming a weee bit more disturbing than is needed in a simple, unknowing fanfic...
