This is the last official chapter of the fic, hard to believe, huh? However, because I believe in tying up loose ends and whatnot, there are two short epilogues following this chapter. So, enjoy this one, I'll see you in a few minutes, and we'll talk.
Saya and Yuma cautiously opened the door to the infirmary, barely leaning in. The room was dark, all of the various medical personnel from the other departments long since punched out for the evening. Saya glanced back over her shoulder, motioning down the hallway.
"Wakaba! He's in here!" she hissed.
The three girls quietly tiptoed into the darkened room, standing just inside the door. Watari had, once again, fallen asleep in the chair beside Tatsumi's bed, his arms folded on the metal guardrail. Wakaba sighed sympathetically, walking over to him and gently shaking his shoulder.
"Watari? Watari, wake up. It's time to go," she said softly.
He jerked up, knuckling the sleep from his eyes, faint tracks of dried tears on his cheeks. He untangled his hair from around his glasses, as they'd been shoved up to his forehead again, sliding them back down into place.
"I'm sorry, Wakaba," he mumbled. "Have you been waiting long?"
She shook her head. "No, but I was a little worried about you. Nobody had seen you since before lunchtime, you've been in here since then, I think."
"Have I? Oh. I guess I lost track of time."
Yuma picked up Watari's coat from the counter he'd thrown it on. "You're coming out for dinner and drinks with the three of us, okay? And don't even think about paying, because the whole thing's on us."
"Sound okay?" Wakaba asked.
Watari shrugged. "Sure. Can you girls just give me a minute?"
They nodded and quietly left the room, standing in the hall just outside the door. Watari stood from his chair, stretching out stiff limbs, joints popping. He glanced down at Tatsumi, tugging the thin blanket higher up on him, brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead.
"I've got to go, the girls will be mad if I don't eat something. Good night, Tatsumi. I love you," the blonde whispered, kissing him gently. He turned away from the bed, his hand still on the guardrail. Thin, cold fingers brushed over the back of his hand, the bedclothes rustling with a cottony whisper.
"…Tari…"
Watari jumped, his heart rocketing into his throat. He spun on his heel, chest heaving, eyes wild with frantic hope that he hadn't just imagined what he'd heard. A hand was still resting over his, the arm attached to it trailing all manner of intravenous tubing and dressed in white linen. Watari felt sobs heaving his ribcage, his throat constricting.
"Tari…Watari…" a hoarse voice groaned out.
The young scientist leaned over the bed. Half-lidded and foggy blue eyes were trying to focus on his face; a faint and weak smile tugging at cracked lips.
"…I'm home…"
Watari burst into tears, hysterically sobbing as he wrenched the guardrail down and threw himself onto his lover, clutching him close as he wept. The girls burst into the room, jamming the lights on as the door ricocheted off the wall, banging and clattering as it arched wildly on its hinges.
"Tatsumi! Oh gods, oh gods, Tatsumi…I…I…"
The three Shinigami all glanced at one another fearfully, afraid that somehow in the few minutes they'd left them, Tatsumi had been whisked away into the afterlife without so much as a parting word. But a soft voice, broken with disuse and suffused with tears, was just barely audible over Watari's uncontrolled sobs.
"I'm okay, Watari…don't cry."
Saya and Yuma squealed and together they ran down the hallway to grab anyone still in the building and get everyone else that'd left back immediately. Wakaba leaned against the threshold, quietly crying.
Tatsumi gingerly put his arms around Watari. "Help me up?"
He nodded, carefully pulling the older man up, still holding tightly to him. Tatsumi rested his head on Watari's shoulder, feeling miserably weak, too weak even to cry. It was all right, though, the blonde was crying enough for the both of them. Tatsumi wound a golden curl around his finger, tugging on it slightly.
"You're fogging your glasses, you damned overemotional scientist," he stated.
Watari laughed despite his tears. "Fuck you."
"Please don't," Tatsumi groaned into his lover's skin. "Too tired for that."
Tsuzuki skidded into the room with Hisoka and the rest of the department hot on his heels. Even Terazuma made an appearance as everyone clamored to get into the tiny infirmary, bottlenecking in the small doorway. The violet-eyed man shoved Watari aside and threw his arms around Tatsumi's neck.
"You're all right! We've been so worried about you!" he cried.
"We?" Tatsumi asked.
Gushoshin the Elder hovered over. "Everybody in Juo-cho knows what happened, and they've been real helpful these past couple of weeks. This place pretty much fell apart without you."
"Yeah, Mr. Watari ended up doing your paperwork for you it got so backed up," his brother added.
Konoe snorted. "So don't go doing a foolish thing like getting yourself abducted again, you hear me, Tatsumi? All right, he's awake, no dramatic damage. The show's over, everybody clear out, man's only been awake five minutes."
"I think he's glad you're back," Tsuzuki whispered.
Hisoka came and sat down on the edge of the bed with his partner after everyone else had shuffled out, leaving Tatsumi with their felicitations and heartfelt welcomes back into the world of the living…so to speak. The young Shinigami smiled slightly, nodding at the blue-eyed man.
"Tatsumi."
"Hisoka."
"Nothing I say hasn't already been said, but I'll tell you one thing. That," he pointed to Watari, "is going to be insufferable to live with. He went after you on his own, wouldn't let me or Tsuzuki or anyone else help him. And, strange to say, he managed to hold his ground against Muraki…broke his nose, apparently."
"He tried to make off with your cuff links, the dirty son-of-a-bitch," Watari retorted.
Tsuzuki nuzzled Tatsumi. "Glad you're okay."
"Thanks, Tsuzuki."
"Come on, idiot, let's go home," Hisoka commanded.
The dark-haired Shinigami pouted, puppy ears drooping. "Aw, Hisoka, I wanna stay with Tatsumi!"
"Tsuzuki, don't you think Watari and Tatsumi want to be alone?"
Tsuzuki's eyes widened and he backed away from his companions, gaping as the blue-eyed man snuggled into his lover's arms. In the decades of knowing each other, Tsuzuki had never known Tatsumi to ever snuggle anyone for any sort of reason. He grabbed Hisoka's thin wrist and started pulling him towards the door.
"Right. I'll call you later, Watari. And I'll let Wakaba know to bring your stuff back over to your apartment at some point this week. Oh, and I'll tell Konoe you're taking the rest of the week off since you probably should so you can stay with Tatsumi. Oh! And I'm glad to have you back, Tatsumi, Shokan-ka just isn't Shokan-ka without you."
"You're babbling," Hisoka pointed out. "Good night, both of you. We'll see you later, Tatsumi. And if you even think about setting foot in this building before Monday, Watari, I'll use you as a punching bag for a month."
"Good night, Bon, Tsuzuki."
The door clicked shut, and soon there was no sound in the ward but the steady rattle and hum of the various machines connected to the weary secretary and the ragged breaths of the still distraught scientist. Watari was tenderly running his fingers through his lover's russet hair, humming a little despite the hiccupping sobs that still shook his thin frame. Tatsumi mumbled something into his shoulder.
"What's that, love?" Watari asked.
"I'm sorry…I made you worry so much. Forgive me, Watari?"
He smiled, embracing him tighter. "Always. I'm sorry I let that happen to you, Tatsumi. I'll never let you get hurt again, I promise. I'll protect you with my very soul. I love you, Seiichiro Tatsumi."
"Love you, Yutaka Watari."
They sat there on the ward bed for a while, twined in each other's arms, content to feel the warmth of one another's skin on their own, to hear every breath and heartbeat. Watari kept dragging one pale hand through Tatsumi's hair, still shuddering every once and again. He'd get up soon enough and snap on a pair of latex gloves, disconnect all the machines and pull Tatsumi from the tangle of tubes and wires. But for now, he just wanted to hold fast to the man, feel his solid body wrapped around his own.
"Are you all right, Tatsumi?"
He glanced up, searching weary amber eyes for meaning. He understood everything that wasn't said so much better than the words themselves.
"I don't know."
"Can I do anything?" Watari murmured softly, his long fingers stroking the back of his neck, the vertebrae he could feel just under the skin.
Tatsumi sighed. "Just…just stay with me, Watari."
The younger man shoved his cascade of soft golden hair away from his face, tilting his lover's chin up so he could kiss him. Tatsumi took a sharp breath at the contact, returning the kiss with as much passion as he could muster, though his body felt boneless, a rag doll whose sawdust stuffing had spilt from gapes in seams and poured through the cracks in the floorboards.
"Stay with me."
Notes: I think I can hear all of you fangirlishly squealing from the sappiness of the end of the chapter. I know I was, and I wrote the damned thing. So, epilogues coming at you, and that will be it for this project. Huzzah. See you next chapter.