Author's Notes: The longest part, to date. And also, I believe, the longest in coming. Sorry about the time between chapters-- my work schedule just got juggled around, and I'm trying to keep my old hours, regardless. As a result, my body has been like "Oi, teme! What the hell do you think -you're- doing?" So... yeah. This was written while I was sick and tired. Excuse it. ^^

Incidentally, if all goes as planned, the next chapter should be the last. This has gone on far longer than planned, already; I'd really like to know if the plot wandered too far, and particularly the length and whether it worked, when all is said and done. ^_^

Other that that... enjoy!

Warnings? Yaoi. Alcohol. Very possibly OOC.

===============
Outside Looking In
===============
Chapter 8
===============

"Watari-san." The name was an accusation, low and composed, but somehow perfectly audible over the still semi-deafening music. "I suspect that you can explain all of this?"

And for fully thirty seconds, there was frightened silence, the thump of the bass, and the desperate tumbling of the scientist's drunken thoughts as he struggled to find a presentable answer.

When it seemed obvious that a response wasn't immediately forthcoming, Tatsumi narrowed sharp blue eyes to take in the gathered workers. "I found your owl," he bit out evenly, pronouncing each word with terrifying calm. As though to prove the point, he lifted a content-- albeit somewhat ruffled-- little owl in one hand. The next sentence might have been an observation, if not for the murderous glint in the man's eye. "And the hallway is covered in feathers."

"Ah..." Watari groped for an appropriate response. "Thanks...?"

"So are most of the offices." An unpleasant smile tugged at the secretary's lips. "And the cafeteria. -And---" Here he took a few threatening steps into the room, cutting off the protest that the scientist had been forming. "-And- the front walk."

Moving with uncharacteristic caution, Wakaba leaned over to the Nagasaki pair, hiding her smile behind a slender hand. "Watari-san asked him to find 003-chan," she whispered, laughter evident in her voice. "After he 'dropped' a cloning potion on her." Two sets of eyes, one green and one violet, turned identical horrified expressions on the girl. "And since nobody could work with so many owls flapping around, anyway..."

A moment of silence passed before the older of the two shinigami broke into startled laughter. In the face of Tatsumi's wrath, the sound hung echoingly in the darkened office, a death knell.

"Tsuzuki." The man's tone said all that needed to be said of every possible threat ever issued. "May I ask what you find so amusing?"

A disarmingly innocent grin met the secretary head-on, wide violet eyes full of the cheer possessed only by the mostly drunk. And Tsuzuki. Or, in this case, both.

"You can always vacuum up feathers," the man offered with a happy shrug. "And you found 003, right?" He pressed on in the face of Tatsumi's heavy glare and the disbelief of the rest of the room. "So what's there to be mad about?"

Somehow, the secretary managed to look scarier. "There is a fog machine somewhere in this office," he declared. The way he spoke the statement made it perfectly clear that he thought it more than explanation enough.

"Aa," Watari agreed readily, seemingly having collected his wits enough to offer a full sentence. "Doesn't it go well with the lights?"

"That," Tatsumi ground out, "Is beside the point."

And suddenly, Wakaba was on her feet, hands on hips, ignoring Terazuma's frantic motions for her to stay out of it.

"No, it isn't!" the girl announced. "It's -exactly- the point. All this is here already--" One hand flicked toward the office; the sheets, the bangles, the lights and fog and still-pounding music. "--So why move it before we're done?" Putting on her best Tatsumi-face, she raised a finger in mock-lecture. "If it's a waste of time and energy, it's counter-productive!"

Sighing softly from halfway around the circle, her partner raised angled red eyes with a resigned look. "It -would- make more sense to clean up later tonight," he offered. "Better than moving it somewhere else now-- we're already started."

"Well." Adjusting his glasses, Tatsumi peered into the darkened room. "Is that a consensus? Too late now?" His gaze trailed from face to face, expression hard, until at last he reached Hisoka; the boy was pale but alert, the usual slight frown conspicuously absent from face.

The secretary arched an eyebrow, expression softening in surprise. "Kurosaki-kun? Am I to understand that you're going along with this?"

The young shinigami flinched away from narrowed blue eyes, not looking up to meet the man's gaze. Hisoka's words, when he spoke, were an embarrassed mumble, though the darkness hid his blush. "That idiot swore up and down that no one could play without a referee."

"...I see." For a long moment, Tatsumi stood unmoving in the doorway, watching the scene before him. Comfortable in the warmth of his grip, 003 cooed softly.

"All right." The secretary conceded, tugging his jacket into a more presentable state. "But I want you all to be at work tomorrow morning with enough time to clean up after yourselves." He paused to consider. "And make up for the hour lost today. Understood?"

The collective victory cheer was answer enough.

* * *

Taking down the decorations, Hisoka thought sourly, wouldn't be a problem. In the early morning hours, most of them had managed to find their way to the floor, where they lay with a fair number of empty bottles and several of his semi-conscious co-workers.

The boy wasn't sure exactly when the party had gotten out of control, but he was fairly certain that it had been a downward spiral after Watari got dared to find the department's secretary and make him join the game. The scientist had managed it, though the young shinigami couldn't imagine how he'd convinced the man. And shortly thereafter, everyone had discovered exactly how vindictive Tatsumi could be.

That had been early on, though, and it had been time to leave hours ago; the only movement in the room came from Wakaba, creeping about the remains of the party to take blackmail pictures. She would, the boy suspected, get a hefty favor from Tatsumi in return for the shot that she was currently setting up. Though innocent enough, Hisoka didn't think that the secretary would appreciate being caught using Watari's lab coat as a blanket-- to say nothing of the fact that 003 was nesting comfortably in the folds of his jacket.

Ignoring the unconscious man's plight to pick his way across the decorations littering the floor, the young shinigami found his partner propped against the stage. Expressive violet eyes were strangely distant, the look on Tsuzuki's face not at all the stupid grin that had been present for most for the night.

"Come on," the empath commanded shortly. "Get up." As though to emphasize the point, he nudged Tsuzuki with his toe.

"Yuma-chan finally let go...?" the older shinigami asked, letting his head fall back to look up at his partner. The man's hair was disheveled, eyes slightly unfocused; nausea was prevalent in the feelings that Hisoka was receiving.

He was very, very drunk.

A curt nod was the only answer that the boy was willing to offer-- he didn't want to admit that he hadn't been able to pry the more enthusiastic of the Hokkaido pair free until after she'd passed out.

"Are we leaving...?" Already, the man was groping for a handhold on the stage, pulling himself into a shaky standing position.

"I am." The young shinigami fixed him with a pointed look before turning toward the door, listening with one ear to be certain that his partner was behind him.

"So mean," Tsuzuki whimpered, moving to follow the boy from the room. But a single step nearly toppled him to the floor, and he was left clinging to the stage with a sick expression. "Hisokaaa," the man whined, violet eyes huge and pleading. "I don't feel very good..."

Turning back, the boy took in a truly pathetic picture: rumpled and wincing, Tsuzuki leaned against the stage for support, one hand to his head.

"...Idiot," Hisoka sighed. And because there was nothing else -to- do, he took his partner by the arm, letting the man use him for support.

* * *

"Where're we goin?" Tsuzuki demanded abruptly, attempting to stop walking. His legs tripped over one another, though, and he was left swaying for a moment, unbalanced nearly to the point of collapse.

"To your apartment," the boy informed him, taking his partner by the arm once more. When a firm tug didn't serve to start them moving again, green eyes glanced back in a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. "Now what?"

"Don't wanna." It was a childish pout, insistent and endearing all at the same time. "Your house is closer." And, pulling his arm from the boy's hold, Tsuzuki turned to walk the other way.

Fighting desperately against the blush that burned across his face, Hisoka jerked the man to a stop once more. "Idiot!" he snapped. "It's -my- house!"

Candid violet eyes turned to meet a flustered green gaze. "So?"

Painfully aware of the fact that his flushed cheeks would be obvious even in the pale moonlight, the young shinigami shook his head emphatically. "That means that -I- sleep there, and -you- don't." Snatching at the sleeve of Tsuzuki's coat, the boy attempted to lead him toward the apartment once more.

"But I slept there -last- night," the man pointed out, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his partner was blushing several shades of red. "And you didn't seem to mind then."

"Well, this is now!" Hisoka snapped. Tightening the grip on the fabric of his partner's coat, the boy turned away, intending to drag the older shinigami after him.

"But Hisokaa." It was a whimper, quiet and piteous. "I don't wanna be alone-- I feel sick."

Turning to meet the man's gaze was a mistake.

Huge violet eyes were desperately imploring, the expression one of wounded abandonment. In the face of his partner's pleading, all protests crumbled.

"...fine," the boy conceded. "But you're sleeping on the couch." Irritated green eyes flashed over red-flushed cheeks. "And don't even -think- of opening the fridge."

"You -do- love me," Tsuzuki mumbled happily, using his partner's grip as an excuse to snuggle the boy's arm.

Hisoka pretended not to hear him.

~end part 8~