So I put you on the altar
Stay just a little bit longer

"Altar" by Kehlani

"Yagami."

"Sir?" but doesn't look up from his handwritten annotations, chewing the eraser of a pencil worn nearly to the nib.

"Your phone."

That explains the buzzing. Had assumed it was the air-con acting up again. Taichi bends down to rummage through his laptop bag. "Right, sorry, sorry."

"No phones during briefings — ,"

"Ease up, boss," interrupts Ryo. Compatriot. Comrade. Confrère. "We're finished here anyway, right?"

"No exceptions."

"Not asking for any," mobile clutched tight, the pad of his thumb pressed over her name lighting the screen, "but I should probably take this."

Yuri is annoyed, but also human. Everyone's already gathering up, his bark-and-no-bite entirely too predictable. "Fine. Let's regroup in fifteen, Dining Room Three. We'll finish getting ready for the afternoon plenaries over lunch."

"Yes, sir." Ryo rolls his eyes at him when the others aren't looking, and Taichi just winks back. Heads to the Digital World Mission's suite of shared offices as he finally answers her, politely stepping out of the way of people passing in the narrow hallways. The Secretariat building's never not busy, but the week of the General Assembly is always another game. He'd been up since four, at the office since five-thirty, and hadn't even been the first one in. Ducks into the empty room now, crowded with papers and reports. "Hey."

"You took so long!"

He shakes his head at the whine of a greeting, notes the lethargic undertone. "I answered, didn't I?"

"Is basic manners supposed to impress me?"

He chuckles. "Haven't figured it out yet? Basic's all you're getting from me." She sighs, settled pout, and he puts his bag down on his desk. "You okay?"

"Are you?"

Scoffs, cheerful, chin up. "I'm always okay."

She sounds sleepy, but smiles through the overly cruel time difference. "Oh, that's not true. You threw up before your first GA."

"I told you that in confidence!" Mocks at the betrayal enough to make her laugh.

"So did Ryo." Traitor. Turncoat. "He also said that you might be nervous this year, too."

"Nah."

"Because you're doing closing remarks."

"Still nah."

"Taichi." He pictures her on her sofa, cinnamon hair wrapped in bun, dressed down for the night maybe in that Teen-Age Wolves band shirt an embarrassed Yamato had been begging her for years to let him burn and replace with more respectable JAXA merch, or the gag Ai-Mart uniform Miyako had made for her a few Halloweens ago. Had asked her why she didn't lounge much in his borrowed clothes, apart from his university football team's bomber jacket and a couple of old gym shorts to sleep in. Sank herself under his weight, wearing nothing but his kiss. You're my favorite thing of yours. "Please use your words."

"I'm planning to. About three thousand of them, actually."

She's amused, playing along. "Any good ones?" Her voice now a honeyed tonic. May it be the last thing he hears, in either world.

"Sure." He ambles the length of the room, turns and paces back again. "'Momentous convening of a historic new mission,' 'inter-world allegiances to chart new futures for all kind.'"

"Mm." Another sigh, softer. Maybe a yawn?

"Also got a couple of 'scientific breakthroughs previously thought impossible,' 'paving the way for new cross-world knowledge systems.' You know, for the true fans." Runs a hand through his hair, but stops halfway, remembering that he's about to go before the world in just another hour, that it won't do to present himself with mussed curls. "Honestly, Mimi, it's all history-books gold."

"Sounds like it." Almost a hum. Misses, achingly, suddenly, the way her whispered good mornings would thrum against his throat. If all matter vibrates, his pulses to hers. That's how I'll find you, he'd told her once, after it all goes dark. She'd delighted in teasing him over it, how talkative he gets through a comedown, fucked out on her. You'll say anything. Yes. Anything. Yes, yes. "But then I think I always prefer listening to these events anyway."

"Why, is there something wrong with your living room set?" He'd spent a good portion of the afternoon before his red-eye teaching her how to tune into the UNTV up-link through her smart television. Definitely did not tell her Koushiro had had to show him how only the day earlier. If there were a tech equivalent of a green thumb, he absolutely wouldn't have that either.

"I'm not in the living room." Voice like velvet, an intimate murmur that's suddenly the farthest thing from a yawn.

Unless?

No.

She couldn't really be — ?

"I'm in the bath."

Oh.

Fuck.

He stops pacing, all thought snapped flat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Low laugh, long sigh. "I was having trouble falling asleep. So I — mmh — I decided to soak a bit, try to relax myself." A distinctive hitch, and he can hear nothing else.

Glances over his shoulder into the bustling hallway. Closes the door. Hopes the shutting click isn't too audible, or too eager. "That sounds nice."

"Uh-huh." Speaks in silk, "Bought myself some flowers, lit a few candles. The record player's on, too." Trails off, pleasured.

"Real nice." Undoes the side tab of his Purple Labels first, legs apart under his desk, facing away from the drawn windows. Clears his throat to mask the sound of the zipper, ignores her knowing giggle when it doesn't work. "You've got everything then."

"That's the thing," and mewls a little. He leans back in the chair, hand sliding under the waistband, already hard. "I can't — nn — I can't seem to make any of it work…."

First stroke is far too patient with the time he doesn't have with her. Another reason not to title this thing between them, time something neither of them had much to spare. A losing bet, she'd warned him, not long before the start. They were too much of a new thing to risk. Asked her anyway. Rose-colored. Then lose with me. "You do sound wound up."

"Yeah," with a breathy whine, and he starts moving quicker, too. "Wanna help me?"

Never backs down from a challenge. Hers, especially.

Lumped in his throat, trying to keep his pitch. "Maybe take it slow for a bit?"

"Mm-hm. 'cept, unlike you — ," stammers out a needy tremble, whimpering through her teeth, " — I'm no good with slow."

Bites down a groan, blood rushed. "And I'm supposed to always match your vibe?"

Takes longer to answer him in words, too strung to tease back. Coiled around the thought of him. Heady at the sound of her. "I don't think you can keep up."

Fuck, fuck. "Yeah, I can — you know I can — ,"

"Mm-hm."

"You called me, babe."

He can hear how close she is, sucking her bottom lip raw. "That's not my name." Drips his instead. "Is it, Taichi — ah — ," and tips him out of the reach of sound, nothing but her pulse in his mouth. Shuts his slacked jaw after a hazy moment, neck bent, barely holding. Sits straight with a wince, finds some pocket tissue to clean up with. Her voice is distant, peeled open. Hums again, a breath of release. "How are your nerves now?"

"What nerves?"

She's so proud of herself, pleased little laugh pulling his own out, too. More than a little worried he might more than a little like her. Title this thing after all. "Good." Mimi yawns, satisfied. "Now go save the world."

Author's Note: A non-linear and non-narrative collection of unrelated, naughty fluff oneshots. Enjoy!