Disclamer/warnings: *sigh* not mine. None of it. Just a little fluff piece about Hisoka obsessing over Tsuzuki.

For Yuki: Thanks for the experience.

The ceiling was, perhaps, the most fascinating thing Hisoka had seen since he'd died. Since before he'd died, even. It was flat, white, and blank. And far beyond interesting. Hisoka stared fixedly, hunting for a crack, a silhouette, a fault, to think about. Nothing. The ceiling was flawless. The light even reflected to eliminate any shadows that might have hoped to form in a corner. Hisoka tried to contemplate the empty perfection, but it was too large and imprecise a concept. He needed to think about something concrete. Was the ceiling made of concrete? Hisoka tried to determine the material behind the paint. Maybe if he touched it….

"Kurosaki-kun, if I may ask, what are you doing?" Hisoka fell back to his chair as soon as he realized he'd been levitating. Tatsumi-san stood in the doorway of the office, his look a cross between concerned and irritated, as though he wasn't yet sure which he was supposed to be. Hisoka blushed.

"Ah…sorry, Tatsumi-san. I think I was daydreaming." Hisoka wasn't entirely certain if he was lying or not. Tatsumi-san frowned, nearly all trace of concern disappearing beneath obsession with an efficient working environment.

"One should be more careful of who one allows to influence one's behavior, Kurosaki-kun." Hisoka sighed. He knew precisely what the secretary was talking about. Rather, who. "Speaking of which, where is Tsuzuki-san?"

"He went to get us lunch." Tatsumi-san gave Hisoka a questioning look, but Hisoka chose to ignore it. Tsuzuki hadn't been much help with the paperwork, anyway, and the incessant whining about hunger pains had come close to driving Hisoka insane. He'd thought he'd be able to concentrate better with Tsuzuki elsewhere. Technically true, he couldn't recall the last thing that had received as much attention from him as the ceiling had in the past fifteen minutes.

"Are you sure sending that person for food unsupervised was wise?" Hisoka snorted and returned to his paperwork.

"When Tsuzuki comes back, I'll tell him you were looking for him." He made sure to slightly emphasize Tsuzuki's name. Tatsumi-san didn't quite approve of the familiarity. Hisoka knew he should use a more formal address, but as long as Tsuzuki called him "Hisoka," he would call his partner simply "Tsuzuki."

"Thank you, Kurosaki-kun." Stiffly, the secretary departed, permitting Hisoka to return to his thoughts.

Somehow, the ceiling wasn't quite as able to hold his attention. Tatsumi-san's fault, of course. He'd been the one to bring up Tsuzuki. Hisoka's mind was gone.

Warm skin sticking to his own.

Another's tears drying on his face.

The delicate pressure of lips-

"Ne, Hisoka, you okay?"

Hisoka jerked violently back to reality. Tsuzuki had returned with the food. Chinese take-out sat steaming on their desks. Uncharacteristically ignoring the food, Tsuzuki was leaning over Hisoka, his concern as perceptible as the sake on his breath-

-the bitter taste sweetened by the flavor of cinnamon and sugar. Tsuzuki had had cinnamon rolls for breakfast-

"I'm fine." Tsuzuki didn't seem convinced, but he let it go. That was his best skill as a partner; letting things go. Not forcing Hisoka to talk about things he didn't want to. Pretending things never happened.

A silent promise between the two of them. Nothing had happened.

Hisoka didn't taste his food. He didn't read the paperwork he filled out. He didn't hear Tsuzuki's mindless chatter. The day passed and nothing happened.

Nothing had happened.

The ceiling again, his own this time. There was more to stare at in his house; the ceiling had shadows. His eyes traced their outlines. A minor demon rising from the depths of his closet, long fingers stretching across the ceiling. A dark corner, waiting to swallow whoever chose to sit in it. The shadows disappeared as Hisoka snapped the lights off, wrapping himself in the cold safety of the dark. Standing beside the light switch, he stared into the darkness, remembering what didn't happen. Because nothing had happened.

Except that you kissed him, idiot.

Really, nothing had happened at all. Tsuzuki had been having a bad day, nothing all that unusual. Hisoka'd merely wanted to comfort him, also normal. Just a little extra effort. A hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder. A smile. Forcing Tsuzuki to look him in the eye as he assured his partner that even idiots have value. Leaning very close to emphasize his point. Letting their lips touch.

It hadn't felt like anything. Aside from lips. Nothing particularly special about lips. They were just lips. Ordinary lips. Tsuzuki's lips. That was all that was special about them, that they were Tsuzuki's. There wasn't any magical power to them; they were just lips.

Normal. It had all felt normal. And that was all it had been. Normal, ordinary, run-of-the-mill physical feelings. Senses of touch, taste, and smell stimulated mildly. It hadn't really meant anything. More than comfort, that is. He'd been comforting Tsuzuki, that was all. There was no reason for him to keep obsessing over it. No reason to keep him from thinking of anything else. No reason for the scene to play over and over on the inside of his eyelids like some bizarre form of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Post Traumatic Kiss Syndrome? Hisoka laughed. Ridiculous notion.

Warm hands. Soft lips. Pleasure, pain, a not quite uncomfortable pressure.

Hisoka woke from his nightmare with a yelp. Sweat dripped off his body. It hadn't been a nightmare. Tsuzuki had been there. The hands, the lips, the panting breath, had all belonged to Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki's presence had never been a subject of nightmares. His absence, on the other hand…. Hisoka gasped and felt the absence. Tsuzuki wasn't there, only in the dream. His whole house felt lonely. He felt lonely.

Stupid. It was just a dream. It didn't mean anything. He wasn't lonely. He was just…tired. Hisoka closed his eyes and willed himself back to sleep. Slowly his mind relaxed. The pillow beneath him warmed to the temperature of human skin. The sheet wrapped around him, arms across his chest. A soft breeze floated through his open window and danced over the back of his neck, the even breathing of the man in bed beside him. There was no one in bed beside him. Hisoka sat up again, fully awake and all alone.

He still wasn't sure why he kept searching for Tsuzuki in the darkness of his bedroom. He certainly had no reason to expect Tsuzuki to be there. Tsuzuki had never been there before. No, that was wrong. Once, after Tsuzuki had destroyed the library his second or third time, once Tsuzuki had brought him to his house. One time in the years they'd worked together, Tsuzuki had been in his house. Not his home; that was wherever Tsuzuki was at any given moment. He couldn't remember quite when that had happened, but he remembered when he realized it. Seeing Tsuzuki in the black flames and feeling as though he were losing everything. Suddenly he felt like such a child.

I want to go home!

Hisoka found himself standing in front of Tsuzuki's door. His hand hesitated halfway into a knock. He hadn't meant to…it was too late, no, too early. Tsuzuki would be sleeping. His arm was starting to hurt, hovering just off the door. He should leave. Should go back to his room, go back to sleep, forget his dream, forget what he wanted. What did he want, anyway? Company? Comfort?

The slightly bitter taste of Tsuzuki's mouth.

The irritating crick in his back from the awkward angle he'd had to bend.

The amazement in the purple eyes.

The fear and desperation, so mixed up as to have no origin.

A kiss.

Hisoka held his breath, closed his eyes and knocked.