AN: Here's another! Thanks, as always, to everyone who read, reviewed, etc. It's always appreciated. And for those who reviewed, just a note of warning: I'm really technology challenged. I have NO idea how to do the review-reply thing. But I definitely do appreciate it! *fail*

The prompt for this one is based loosely off something I got off an internet story generator: 'He was the cleverest person I'd ever met, but he seemed to be malfunctioning in some way.'

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica and Sekaiichi Hatsukoi belong to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.


Asahina was out of town on business for a grand total of two days before Isaka realized that his secretary being gone wasn't a passable excuse for not doing his work. He realized that, had in the beginning, but that didn't stop him from missing three straight meetings and falling asleep on his desk for hours at a time. Funny thing was, each time he woke up to the phone ringing, he expected it to be Asahina, somehow fully aware of what Isaka was doing and taking the time out of his busy day to chew him out over the phone.

It was, strangely enough, never Asahina.

"This is the executive director's office," Isaka answered dully.

"You bastard," was the first thing he heard in Takano's characteristic growl. "We had a meeting! We had twomeetings! How did you miss them both?"

Idly scrubbing the patch of drool from some invoice or other, Isaka answered: "Ah, that. Something came up."

There was silence. Then, "I'm coming to your office," Takano said, and hung up the phone. It quite sounded like a threat. Isaka was tempted to lock his door.

Instead, he made quick work of organizing his desk so it at least appeared that he was heavily involved in paperwork. By the time Takano barged in, Isaka was shuffling importantly through a stack of papers he hadn't read.

Takano dragged Asahina's chair in front of Isaka's desk and spun it around so he could rest his arms across the back and glower at Isaka. He didn't say anything for a few beats, just eyed the director over the top of his glasses. Then, "You've got a paper clip stuck to your forehead." He pointed somewhere above Isaka's right eye. "There."

Spitting a curse, Isaka swiped the offending piece of officeware off his face, and then cleared his throat, adopting the most professional expression he could manage. "Thank you," he sniffed.

Some indignant part of his mind insisted that such a thing was Asahina's job. How was he supposed to get anything done without the man around? If not for Takano, Isaka would be walking around Marukawa with god knows what stuck to his face all day long, and he'd bet every last cent he had that no one else would have bothered to point it out. Well, maybe Yokozawa, but Isaka got the impression that the man wanted to push him in front of a bus most of the time.

Takano handed him a file, diving into the specifics of a necessary reprint and taking a moment from the topic to bitch about the sales department once again falling short on their job. Isaka nodded in all the right places and stared morosely at Asahina's empty desk.

"You—you're not even listening to me, are you?" Takano's lips thinned. "Isaka," he began, "are you ill?"

"No." Isaka pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to wake up, maybe go grab a coffee and stand in the cool air outside for a few minutes.

Takano did not look convinced. He followed the line of Isaka's gaze, twisting around to stare at Asahina's desk. Then he sighed, a very put-upon sound, and stood. "You're useless," he announced. "Look those over."

"Right, right."

Over the course of the day, Isaka managed to fulfill Takano's request, though not as thoroughly as the man would have liked (50,000 copies? Was he insane?). By five o'clock, he called it a day and slunk out of the office like a wounded dog.

It really wasn't fair, how dependent he was on Asahina. It wasn't like hewould be any worse off without Isaka! His productivity was still through the roof, no doubt. Next time Isaka's father wanted to 'borrow' his assistant, Isaka would be sure to say no.

"I'm just too giving for my own good," he told his replacement driver. The man, an older fellow with brows so thick his eyes were obscured from view, just shook his head and ignored him.

When he got home, he kicked off his shoes in the doorway and stumbled into the kitchen. There was still a half-full bottle of wine in the fridge, and Isaka didn't intend to waste it. He also didn't intend to bother with a glass because, hah, Asahina wasn't there to reprimand him.

A red light on the house phone was blinking. Loosening his tie, Isaka pressed the button for the voicemail and settled onto the couch, taking a swig from the bottle.

"One new message," the machine informed him. Then a much more familiar, human voice took over: "Ryuuichirou-sama," the message began. Isaka spit a mouthful of wine all down his front and scrambled over to the phone. "I received a call from Takano-san today."

"He told on me?" Isaka howled. "Bastard! I'll cut his pay!"

"I trust that it was a mere misunderstanding, and that you've been as efficient as always in my absence."

Isaka flailed the bottle at the phone, shrieking. "I don't have to take this from you!"

"The president also wished for me to inform you that our business in Osaka ended sooner than we expected. By the time you receive this, I'll already be on the flight home."

Isaka slumped back down onto the couch, clutching the bottle. "Shit."

"I should be in around eight this evening. I'll come straight to your house so we can review Emerald's reprint request, which, I've no doubt, you've already taken care of. Until then."

The machine beeped, confirming the end of the message. Isaka groaned.

He was going to absolutely murder Takano.


As before, if you have prompt ideas, feel free to let me know.