I promised sensuality in the warnings at the start of the fic, right? Well, you get that wish fulfilled right now, because there's a touch of lime flavor in this chapter. See you at the bottom.
++
Watari was dreaming again, another dream of home like before. This time he was standing in front of their bathroom sink, towel wrapped around his waist, mirror foggy with steam as he combed out sopping wet locks. He could hear Tatsumi struggling to get out of bed in the next room; for all of his demands of punctuality, the man was not a morning person. He peered back at his reflection, jumping back, startled. The Watari in the mirror was fully dressed, his hair dry and neatly tied back.
"What do you want?" he gasped, watching as his reflection leaned forward, out of the glass. The other Watari smiled warmly.
"Relax, I'm here on Tatsumi's behalf."
Watari stared at himself. "Tatsumi's…you're from my Tatsumi? But…but they said he had nothing left…his mind is empty."
"Well, yeah, that's true. But when his system crashed, he retained one memory that left him with a small sense of self, enough to keep him from going absolutely and totally blank. Take a guess what that was."
"Me?" Watari asked hesitantly.
His reflection nodded. "Being aware of your love for him kept Tatsumi's mind from totally dissipating. He's working to rebuild it right now and it's going to take some time…it's a really shitty task and I don't know how things are going to turn out, but he wanted me to tell you…Tatsumi said to tell you 'I love you.' So…um, yeah."
Watari could feel the lump forming in his throat, making it burn. He couldn't swallow the tears that were stinging at his eyes, the visage before him blurring with watery vision. Tatsumi remembered him, if nothing else, he knew that Watari loved him and he loved Watari in return. And he knew deep down that this wasn't another subconscious desire pent-up, a longing to hear from his lover. This was Tatsumi reaching to him in the only way he could, through the shadowy landscape of his dreams.
"Thank you. Thank you for telling me," he whispered, hurrying out into the bedroom.
The Tatsumi of his mind was still lying there; eyes open, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt to rouse himself. "I'm getting up, I promise."
"No need," Watari answered, climbing onto the bed and straddling his phantom lover's hips. Tatsumi hoisted himself upwards, balancing himself on his arms.
"Watari, we need to get ready for work. Konoe will wring our necks if…"
He grinned. "This is a dream, love. And if this is the only way I get to spend time with you while the real Tatsumi's recovering, damned if I'm going to spend it at work."
Neither man wore much of anything to bed, it was pointless considering the fact that whatever was worn would generally be removed at some point or other. Tatsumi was spread out on the bed with only a corner of sheet to cover him, glasses resting on the bedside table, Watari flipping off his towel. He leaned over and kissed the brunette, wet tendrils of hair brushing against his shoulders and collarbone. Tatsumi returned the gesture, deepening it, sliding his tongue over Watari's lower lip as the blonde's hands fluttered over warm skin. He was so pale compared to Tatsumi, milk-white flesh slipping against duskier-toned.
His fingers brushed against the scar on Tatsumi's collarbone and the older man winced, remembering. Watari leaned down and kissed it, nipping at his lover's neck.
"I don't care about the damned thing, Tatsumi. I don't care about your past; I don't care about what you might have done or what may have happened. I love you more than anything."
Tatsumi smiled at him and pulled his young lover down for another kiss, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Watari shivered, pressing his body close.
It was beautiful in his mind, a dream he almost wished he didn't have to wake from. There was no blindness, both their visions perfectly clear, able to see one another wholly, count every bead of sweat. There was no pain, no sting of teeth as they grazed flesh, no fear of hurting the man beneath him as he gasped and writhed under warm hands, no need to worry about moving too quickly or not fast enough at all. It was passion and pleasure and comfort, the desperate need to simply be held, surrounded by the man he would willingly give his immortal life for, superceding the erotic. And it was in that flash of white light where everything is drowned out but the strangled cry that springs forth from bruised lips and the erratic pulse of a heart threatening to burst, that Watari realized he would never be just Watari anymore. His soul, his very essence was bonded to Tatsumi's, a pledge that according to Shinigami traditions ran deeper than anything ever conceived. No spoken vow or blood-bound ritual could compare to the breadth and depth of what they had promised to one another.
"I will be yours and yours alone for the rest of forever," he whispered to Tatsumi, catching his mouth in a soft kiss. "I swear it on my immortal soul."
"And I on mine, Watari, and I on mine," he replied, stroking his lover's hair. "Yours for eternity."
++
Notes: I got nothing to say. I might've made it more erotic if it wasn't going on ff.net…which still doesn't work from my home PC, the damn computer. I honestly don't know what's wrong with the stupid thing. Oh well, see you next time!