Title: Confessionals
Author: WolfPilot06
Pairing: Tsuzuki/Hisoka
Warnings: Drunk!Hisoka (so, underage drinking, if you want to be technical), angst, resigned fluff? Man, I've gotten worse at classifying my stuff. Just shake a box of classifications together and then see what comes out. Oh, and one-shot. 'cause my stuff's never a multi-parter unless I say it is.
Notes: I really just wrote this to have Hisoka drool on Tsuzuki's shoulder. Having achieved that in the first paragraph, I then tacked on some stuff that vaguely threatened to develop a plot, got scared, and posted what I had on my LJ. Then, after Katsue, Kohaku Tenshi, Kouri Arashi, and Brigdh all collectively poked at me to finish the thing, I decided to attempt to do so. Whether I was successful at killing the fic or not is up to you to decide.
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"Shtop babyin' me, Tshuuki," Hisoka slurred, even as his head flopped onto Tsuzuki's shoulder. The older Shinigami winced as he felt a warm, damp spot begin to form where Hisoka's mouth was pressed against the back of his jacket. "I'm a big kid now. I c'n take care 'f myself..."
"Of course you can." Tsuzuki agreed placidly, somehow managing to rock back and forth on his heels with Hisoka draped over his back as he waited for the elevator, "Which is why I'm carrying you home after you decided that you somehow could miraculously up your alcohol tolerance from half a glass of sake to five glasses of sake in one night."
"Shuddup." Hisoka scowled, wriggling awkwardly in an attempt to slide off Tsuzuki's back. Tsuzuki merely sighed and linked his hands under his partner's bottom, hitching the smaller boy up higher and ignoring his drunken protests. By the time Hisoka was securely resettled in his hold, the elevator had arrived. Tsuzuki stepped in, dexterously managing to hit the button for Hisoka's floor with his foot as he leaned back to kick the panel. He also hit the buttons for three other floors, but ignored that in favor of the fact that he wouldn't have to do what he had last time he'd carried a drunken Hisoka back home. The clerk at the front desk still seemed extremely reluctant to let him into the building, and he'd eyed Tsuzuki nervously as he waited for the elevator to arrive.
There was a gentle whir and a brief jerk as the elevator began to move. The soft, tinny notes of muzak filtered through a speaker in the ceiling as Tsuzuki patiently waited, watching the floor numbers light up as they ascended through the apartment building. The pleasant silence was broken by a loud sniffle from the vicinity of Tsuzuki's back, causing Tsuzuki to start slightly. He'd thought that Hisoka'd fallen asleep somewhere between walking into the elevator and kicking the buttons.
"Y'don't unnerstand, 'zuki," Hisoka mumbled. The wet spot on Tsuzuki's shirt was growing bigger, but this time it was because of tears, not drool.
"What don't I understand, 'Soka?" Tsuzuki said gently. He already knew the answer; he knew the night's script by heart, having been in the same situation this same time every year since they'd become partners. A part of him continued to sympathize with Hisoka's inner anguish, which only allowed itself to show this once every three-hundred and sixty-five days, while another, smaller part wondered if this was what he sounded like when he angsted to Hisoka for the other three-hundred and sixty-four days.
"Don't unnerstand what it'sh like to be me," Hisoka slurred, and sniffled even more loudly. The elevator dinged then, metal doors sliding apart silently to allow Tsuzuki to carry his pathetically drunk burden out. "Feelin' 'vreebody's emotions all day, knowing what it'sh like to carry all those years together by myshelf..."
Tsuzuki blinked in the midst of digging through Hisoka's pockets for his key with one hand, precariously having shifted Hisoka onto his hip with one arm wrapped securely around his waist. This was a break from the normal script. While Tsuzuki had found that drunken statements often didn't make sense to sober people, there was often at least some form of twisted logic to them. He unlocked the door to Hisoka's apartment, kicking it shut behind him as he carried Hisoka to his bedroom, laying the muttering boy on his coverlet before turning the lights on.
"Your empathy's bothering you?" he asked sympathetically, not even having to think as he went through motions practiced so often that they had become automatic. A bottle of aspirin was placed on the nightstand next to a glass of water, a small pitcher decorated with bunnies placed on the ground for easy access. He stepped into the bathroom to wet a washcloth before sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing Hisoka's bangs from his closed eyes and wiping his face gently.
"'s'always botherin' me..." Hisoka slurred, sluggishly batting at the hand holding the washcloth to his face. "Jush more so than usual today...wanted to stay home. Mean Tatshumi-san wouldn' let me."
"Mm-hm." Tsuzuki agreed absently, patiently ignoring Hisoka's attempts to squirm away from the damp cloth keeping him awake. A faint realization came to him then, and he paused in his motions, though Hisoka, muttering as he was and making a scrunched-up face at Tsuzuki's fussing over him, didn't notice. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that it's your birthday?"
Clouded green eyes opened slowly, startlingly lined with tears. Hisoka looked younger than Tsuzuki had ever seen him before, vulnerable for one brief moment before the younger Shinigami turned his face away, scrubbing ineffectually at the tearstains on his face.
"'course not." Hisoka said quietly, but Tsuzuki could see the truth in the long silence that fell afterwards. For all that the youth put up a good show of being acerbic and independent, Tsuzuki knew better than anyone else what lay beneath that tough veneer.
Usually, Tsuzuki was the one who cursed his existence, railing at fate and gods alike, wishing he'd never been born to hurt others, while Hisoka calmly and deliberately worked through his defenses to shake sense into him. But the older Shinigami knew full well that Hisoka often wished that he had not been born, either, but for entirely different reasons. Hisoka wished he had never been born to hurt, never been born to be scorned by his family and cursed and raped and subjected to the millions of tortures that no person – no matter how evil or depraved they were – deserved to experience. That Hisoka could continue to stand with his back straight and his gaze firm and unwavering by Tsuzuki's side was a testimony to the strength that drove the young man to become a Shinigami and stay on in the afterlife. A lesser man would have crumpled under the same circumstances and chosen to move on as a last escape.
But somehow, on this day, year after year, Hisoka's strength failed him, and for all the condolences and reassurances Tsuzuki offered, nothing could assuage his pain.
Tsuzuki cursed his uselessness.
Abruptly, Tsuzuki was startled from his thoughts as fumbling fingers found their way to his face, brushing awkwardly over the tears threatening to form in his eyes. A serious gaze, far more sober than a moment ago, locked with Tsuzuki's beneath elegantly furrowed brows.
"'snot as bad 's it could be." Hisoka's voice was quiet and clear, his touch more confident as it brushed over Tsuzuki's cheek again. "You're here, 'ren't you?"
Wordlessly, Tsuzuki covered Hisoka's hand with his own.
"I'll always be here for you, Hisoka." He promised. Hisoka rolled his eyes and winced at the movement before flopping onto his side, his hand tugging a surprised Tsuzuki to fall beside him on the bed as he did.
"Shoopid 'zuki," Hisoka yawned, curling up and clearly on the verge of sleep. Tsuzuki smiled sadly and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on Hisoka's furrowed brow.
"I know. Don't make promises I can't keep?"
"No," Hisoka murmured, already dropping off into slumber, "Don't state the obvious."
A moment later, Tsuzuki smiled, took Hisoka into his arms, and fell asleep.
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The (Sappy) Ending
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Uh, I picked this up again a few months after I started writing it and forgot my original intentions for it, so, uh…have random sap. Geez, I really need to start writing angst again. Comments and criticism loved and adored.
Wolf