AN: This drabble is for siri227, who requested a continuation of the previous drabble. I hope you like it! The alternate title for this should be, "In which everything, ever, is Isaka's fault." And a big thanks to everyone reading so far!

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

The wine was gone. Isaka observed the empty bottle with all the detached interest of a man deep in the throes of inebriation. He'd shed his shirt, but his skin was still sticky with sweat and the lingering stink of alcohol.

"I see you've kept yourself occupied," Asahina deadpanned. He draped his jacket over the back of the couch and rubbed his temples. "Ryuuichirou-sama…"

Isaka held up a hand. "Don't say it," he warned. "I can read your mind. I don't have to hear it out loud."

Asahina raised a brow. "You can read my mind, can you?"

Isaka scoffed. "I knew you were going to say that." He crossed his arms over his chest and slumped back into the couch, scowling petulantly at his assistant. "It's not my fault, you know."

"Is that so?" Asahina didn't seem terribly interested in hearing what Isaka had to say. He sat down on the adjacent loveseat and put his briefcase on the table, opening it. "I apologize for being so late. I stopped by the office before coming here."

Was he late? Isaka hadn't noticed. Ah, but the clock did say that it was some time after eleven in the evening, didn't it? And Asahina had promised to be home around eight. "Like I said: it's your fault."

"You didn't say that," Asahina corrected distractedly, thumbing through a file. "You just said it wasn't yours."

"Right, right," Isaka said, nodding. "It's not mine. Not yours. I blame Takano. That bastard," he tacked the last bit on almost as an afterthought, all while staring in wonderment at the ceiling.

"Speaking of Takano-san…"

Isaka groaned and covered his ears. "It's not true! Whatever it is! That bastard is spreading lies!"

That earned him a raised brow from Asahina. Vaguely, Isaka wondered how the man could do that so well on command, keep the rest of his face blank while expressing a multitude of emotions just through his damned eyebrows. Could he do that? Isaka tried, but from sudden wave of bemusement settling over Asahina's own expression, he decided no, he likely could not.

"If you're quite done," Asahina said, raising his voice just enough to quell any further histrionics from his partner, "there's this to discuss." He plucked one of the papers from the file and handed it to Isaka.

"Oh?"

This was the application of a recently hired employee. Isaka hadn't seen it yet, but then, he really wasn't sure what half the papers on his desk that day had been. When he reached the name, Isaka looked up. "Onodera? Really?"

Asahina nodded. "His father left a message on your office phone." There was a note of reproach in his voice. "Had you stayed the entire day, you would have known that."

"I stayed until five!" Isaka frowned. "Transferring to Marukawa, though? That's a bit…"

"According to Onodera-san, his son is looking to make a name for himself without his family's assistance."

Onodera Ritsu, age twenty-five, literature editor, worked with top authors… "He worked with Aikihiko? Impressive."

"There is a current opening in the literature department." Asahina started rifling through his briefcase again. "If you'll remember, one of the editors just…"

But Isaka wasn't listening. Rather, an idea was forming in his mind, one both promising in amusement and the perfect method of payback.

"If he wants to make a name for himself, perhaps he should start with a different venue?" Isaka sat up straight. "Hand me all the vacancy notices for the editing department."

"You've got that look on your face," Asahina observed. Nevertheless, he handed over the documents.

"There is no look," Isaka insisted, but even so, he could feel the corners of his lips tugging up. "Ah, here it is." He slapped a paper down on the table.

Asahina looked at the paper, looked at him, and sighed. "That would be Emerald's vacancy. Ryuuichirou-sama, that's not appropriate for Onodera-san's qualifications."

"If he wants to make it big on his own, then he needs to learn how to handle setbacks."

Oh, this would be brilliant. Isaka could just imagine the look on Takano's face when he heard he had to train an editor from the ground up. He'd probably cry. Isaka really hoped he would.

"Ryuuichirou-sama, I feel the need to remind you of something. People are not pawns."

"There, Asahina, you are wrong." Isaka set about writing notes on Onodera's application, working with a manic energy he hadn't felt in quite some time. "People are nothing but pawns. If they want to be better than that, they have to pull themselves up of their own accord."

Onodera would be better for it, anyway. Isaka was really helping the guy out, whether he knew it or not. And Takano? Well, the man would deal. Eventually.

"That's it," Isaka announced, dropping his pen and handing Asahina the paper. "Fax a copy to Emerald, a copy to me, and a copy to HR."

"Understood, sir." Asahina climbed tiredly to his feet. Isaka watched him amble over to the fax machine, wincing as the man's back cracked loudly.

Waiting until Asahina finished sending the papers, Isaka crept up behind him and pressed his knuckles into the man's back, working the tension out as best he could. Asahina groaned, his shoulders drooping, and his head fell back.

"And since all that's been taken care of," Isaka murmured into his ear, "why don't we retire for the evening?"

Asahina took to the suggestion with boyish enthusiasm, tugging Isaka toward the bedroom and winding his arms around his partner's body, the perfect welcome home.

Tomorrow, Isaka would set his plan into motion, fully prepared to sit back and watch the fireworks.

As always, if you have any prompt ideas, feel free to let me know!