Title: The Game That Matters
Summary: Hisoka finally wins. (TsuHi, MurTsu)
Notes: So I have this idea for a dark not-fluffy-at-all MurTsu (and kinda TsuHi) fanfic from Tsuzuki's POV. And that's all well and good for me. However, Hisoka's not so much a fan, as it involves him nekkid and he doesn't like that, so he wouldn't let me write it until I wrote this little piece of lovable TsuHi fluff. And really, who am I to say no to TsuHi fluff?
Disclaimer: "If I was... a butterfly! I'd thank you Lord for giving me wings! And if I was... a fish in the sea! I'd thank you Lord that I could swim! And if I was... Matsushita Yoko! I'd thank you Lord Jesus for giving me Yami no Matsuei! But I'll just thank you Father for making me ME" ...and on that trip down memory lane, let me just add that a) that song doesn't rhyme, b) it's a really annoying song and c) I don't own Yami no Matsuei.
The Game That Matters
Hisoka felt Muraki before he saw him.
He was standing next to Tsuzuki, listening to his partner chatter aimlessly about something Watari had said and occasionally nodding along. Hisoka was listening, and if asked later, he could probably pull up the memory of the conversation, but sometimes it was easier to listen on an emotional level. That way, he could feel when Tsuzuki became excited or pleased and respond accordingly.
It was right in the middle of Tsuzuki's eager retelling of 003's attempted escape into the air vent when Hisoka felt Muraki at the edge of his senses, cool and creepy and abrupt, like an ice cube on skin. Hisoka was proud that he didn't react physically when he felt the doctor, as he would have done a year ago, but simply stretched his empathy out to find Muraki's location.
There! Standing beside the newsstand, magazine in hand, was Muraki. Both Tsuzuki and Hisoka were standing on top of the boardwalk, leaning against the railing and looking down at the activity below; Muraki was about 50 feet away and staring up at them, his infuriatingly calm smile plastered on his face.
It was clear to Hisoka that Muraki had noticed his attentions. The doctor didn't react openly either, but Hisoka could feel a hint of arrogance in the man's demeanor. Oh, yes. Muraki knew Hisoka saw him.
At this point, Hisoka wasn't sure what to do. Tsuzuki was still standing beside him, pleasant and familiar and still rambling. Hisoka was surprised how easily he had gotten used to listening to Tsuzuki talk, so much so that it was almost relaxing to sit down and do nothing but listen and occasionally reply. Tsuzuki wanted nothing more from him and Hisoka was grateful for that. He liked being able to please someone by simply being there.
But Muraki's presence had changed the situation.
They were on Chijou for a case, as was most often the reason. A reluctant soul was put to rest, which was all in all a fairly simple job. Now Hisoka and Tsuzuki were just killing time, not wanting to head back to Meifu just yet. It had been Tsuzuki's idea, because the purple-eyed Shinigami enjoyed watching people as they shopped together along the boardwalk. And Hisoka liked spending time with Tsuzuki.
So they had stayed. And now Muraki was here.
Tsuzuki didn't notice the doctor, so it was Hisoka who had to decide what to do about the situation. He really didn't want to inform Tsuzuki, because despite the passage of time, the events in Kyoto were still a sore topic for Tsuzuki. Hisoka completely understood, of course, but he also knew that Tsuzuki was prone to sinking into depression. Mentioning Muraki was a sure way of setting Tsuzuki on that path. And Hisoka did not like it when Tsuzuki was upset.
But what was he to do, then? Hisoka couldn't very well ignore Muraki's presence, for multiple reasons. The most obvious of which being that Hisoka could still feel him, enough so that Hisoka was sure Muraki was deliberately extending his emotions. There was also the fact that if Hisoka were to ignore Muraki, he wouldn't be ready if the silver-haired doctor did try something. Being caught unaware with Muraki was a devastating error.
And finally, there was the petty, selfish reason: Hisoka didn't want to.
He didn't want to ignore Muraki's presence. He wanted to do something, anything, to display to Muraki that he and Tsuzuki were just fine despite him. It was irrational and stupid and Hisoka knew it, but he couldn't quell the urge to shove their mental stability in Muraki's face. Well, almost stable. But that was good enough.
An idea struck Hisoka at the same time that Tsuzuki finished his story, and Hisoka very nearly smiled. Then, deliberately looking away from Muraki and up at Tsuzuki, Hisoka placed his hand on top of Tsuzuki's, intertwining their fingers together.
Immediately, Hisoka felt a rush of emotions, strong but manageable: surprise, pleasure and happiness from Tsuzuki, and surprise, irritation, and a brief spark of anger from Muraki.
"Did you like my story, Hisoka?" Tsuzuki asked, his grin brighter now that Hisoka was holding his hand than it had been during the story.
"It was okay," replied Hisoka honestly. He could remember snippets from the story, which was amusing but too long-winded, and did not feel like commenting further on it. "I'm getting tired - want to call it a day?"
"But I wanted to go get Cinnabons, Hisoka," Tsuzuki protested. "We still have time before Tatsumi expects us back."
"Idiot, we don't have any money," said Hisoka.
"Hisokaaaa..."
"It's too close to dinner anyway," Hisoka said.
"That doesn't matter," Tsuzuki explained cheerfully. "I have an endless stomach, remember? I distinctly recall you saying that."
Hisoka rolled his eyes, answering, "Yes, maybe, but I don't and you'll make me eat some. You always do." Hisoka could still sense Muraki on his senses, irritation and calculation present in his emotions.
Not that he only held Tsuzuki's hand because Muraki was there. The doctor had provided the motivation this time, but Hisoka had held his partner's hand before, though not usually in public. They had been partners for three years now and during the course of that partnership, both Tsuzuki and Hisoka had stumbled awkwardly into what could be considered a relationship. It was a young teenager's relationship, full of shy kisses and cuddling and occasionally hand holding, but nothing more serious than that. Hisoka liked it that way. And though Tsuzuki sometimes thought about more, Hisoka could sense that he liked the comfort more than he desired sex.
It was not often that Hisoka would display acts of affection in public, either, which was why Tsuzuki was so pleased that Hisoka made the initiative. Hisoka liked it when Tsuzuki was happy. So although Muraki's presence had prompted the action, it was not because of him that Hisoka did it.
Though it was nice to be the cause of Muraki's irritation.
"I won't make you eat any, I promise," Tsuzuki swore. "Please?"
"No, we have no money," Hisoka said, an air of finality in his tone. At Tsuzuki's pleading expression, Hisoka resisted the urge to sigh and offered, "How about I make us both dinner when we get back?"
"Really?" Tsuzuki asked, excited.
"Really."
Tsuzuki smiled down at him, happy and content and knowing that Hisoka could feel it. Slowly, he shifted Hisoka's grip on his hand, twisting his hand around so that their palms faced each other and wrapped their fingers together again. In surprising daring, Tsuzuki leaned forward and kissed Hisoka on the forehead.
Hisoka was startled but pleased. Tsuzuki never kissed him on the mouth when they were in public - and rarely when they were in Meifu, with only their coworkers to see , and Hisoka liked that. He didn't need the extravagant show of kissing to feel the affection that radiated from Tsuzuki, and he let Tsuzuki kiss him all he wanted when they were alone. But sometimes Tsuzuki couldn't help himself, and so Hisoka allowed the forehead kisses. He didn't mind them at all.
At first, all Hisoka felt was a rush of pleasure from Tsuzuki, but soon he sensed Muraki again, whose anger was more present now than ever. Hisoka knew the doctor was watching them and seething, watching as his love interest showered affection onto his proclaimed doll. Underneath the anger, hidden from even the man who felt it, was jealousy: envy at the fact that he hadn't ever succeeded in seducing Tsuzuki when Hisoka did without even trying.
Hisoka felt it all.
And he decided that he was sick of having Muraki dancing at the edge of his senses. As Tsuzuki pulled away, Hisoka gave him a rare smile and said, "Let's go back to Meifu if I'm going to make dinner, okay?"
"Okay!" Tsuzuki cheered. "Sankyuu, Hisoka!"
"You're too hyper."
"You know you love me."
"That doesn't change the fact that you're too hyper."
"You're so mean..."
They walked away from the railing and from Muraki's prying eyes, heading to a place where they could disappear without being sighted. Tsuzuki was still holding onto Hisoka's hand as Hisoka felt Muraki's presence disappear from his radar, and he smiled to himself.
In the only game that mattered, Hisoka had won.