CRASH
"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki asked worriedly, dragging his attention from the bright colors of the sugary sweets he had wasted his entire lunch hour (and the better part of the next hour as well) standing in line for.
"What-"
"Sorry," Hisoka interrupted, cursing mentally.
Their last job, investigating the seeming possession of a teenage girl, had ended only the day before. Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to send the demon back to the underworld without having to first forcibly remove it from the host's body. What should have been a fairly easy case had gotten messy fast when the demon, much stronger than Watari had predicted and a telepath to boot, had decided half way through the exorcism that Hisoka would be easy prey. Also apparently hoping that Tsuzuki would be hesitant to use an exorcism, which was actually quite painful, on a partner that he obviously cared about. And who would, unlike the first victim, be conscious to feel it.
The combined shock, pain, and fury at the sudden and violent intrusion into his mind gave the empath more than enough strength to force the demon out, and as the raging teenager had screamed the memorized chant, he had forced enough of his own wrath into the spell to make the demon's forced crossing back to hell excruciating.
b
Hisoka had started to wonder whether his revenge had been worth it.
Yes, it had been satisfying to the sadist in him (not that he had one of course, not even a little one. Anything that put him near what he considered 'Muraki's level' was promptly beaten to death with a big block of baseball bat-shaped denial) to give the demon what, on the physical plane, would have amounted to a decidedly brutal ass-kicking. And no, he hadn't felt particularly guilty while he watched the demon howling in agony as it was sucked through the jagged edged portal to hell by a whirlwind of razor blades.
Watching Tsuzuki trade in his usual 'innocent puppy' face for a much more adult, and much more /real/ worried-but-amused-despite-himself expression had been quite interesting as well.
The consequences however, were getting to be a pain. The whole day's exertion combined with the sudden, violent mental invasion and then the partial improvisation of an already extremely difficult spell had left him unconscious only a few minutes after the completion of the battle.
And as if to add insult to injury, Tsuzuki had carried him home to Meifu and Watari as soon as he collapsed and had not stopped hovering over him since he had woken up in the hospital to find the older man had stayed with him through the night, apparently preferring to sleep in one of the hospital beds rather than head home to his own comfortable apartment.
If it weren't for a particularly considerate Wakaba stopping by his place on her way to work to pick up a change for him, and Watari kicking him out of the hospital just long enough to make use of the shower in the lab (it was one of the major ongoing debates in the office as to why Watari had a shower in his lab, though not quite as major as the one on how exactly the scientist had convinced a certain tight-fisted secretary to pay for the thing) Tsuzuki would probably still be in the same blood-soaked suit he had faced the demon in.
As if waking up with a determined-to-coddle Tsuzuki wasn't bad enough, a migraine that felt like a jackhammer against his skull with a few hefty doses of nausea for flavor had hit within minutes of his rousing and been threatening him with another blackout if he did anything so strenuous as to stand up too quickly.
Tsuzuki had told him it was probably some sort of magical hangover. Watari had more or less confirmed this when he'd examined him earlier that morning. Something about the demon's magic mixing with his own when it tried to possess him, and causing an imbalance in his ki. The scientist had assured him that with their line of work it happened to everyone occasionally, and that the side affects would probably fade within a few hours.
There had unfortunately, been plenty of times in the past when the scientist had been wrong, and the present situation was quite insistent on joining that category. The 'hangover' had yet to fade in the slightest, seemed in fact to be gaining strength and symptoms as time went by.
Dizziness, the latest of the lot, had hit with all the subtlety of a sledge hammer and was responsible for the first act of property destruction at the office (not caused by Tsuzuki) since Hokkaido pair had glomped Terazuma the month before.
Hisoka glared irritably at the shards of the of the vase, debated muzzily whether or not it would be worth it to bend down and pick them up, realized he would probably lose a finger, and then stumbled awkwardly to his chair instead, making sure to walk a large circle around the shards rather than attempting to jump over or wade through them.
"Sorry," he said again, when Tsuzuki continued to stare at him worriedly, "I've been clumsy today."
Apparently not fooled by his partner's attempt at a casual brush off, the older shinigami's slightly worried look turned into one of piercing concern and he said gently, "Hisoka, why don't you take the rest of the day off? I'll cover for you."
Hisoka snorted irritably. "Cover for me?" he asked disbelievingly, casting an openly dubious glance over the cluttered contents of his partner's desk. Random trinkets, souvenirs from jobs past, were scattered haphazardly. Piles of paper work from cases that were several weeks old sat neatly along the edges, having been pushed back to make room for the masses of sweets that he was constantly smuggling into the office. The evidence of those indulgences was sprinkled chaotically over everything, colorful foil wrappers shining cheerfully whenever the light caught them.
"Why don't you try covering for yourself first." the boy snarled.
Tsuzuki just sighed. Hisoka really needed to get over this whole needing-help-is-a-sign-of-weakness thing. Yes on some occasions it could be cute, downright adorable even, like a kitten squirming when it's owner tried to hold it, but at others, like now, or on an actual case especially, refusing help could be not just stupid, but dangerous.
Wait.
Had he just thought of himself as Hisoka's owner?
Erecting a hasty shield around those thoughts and the emotions that came with them, he deliberately broke eye contact and moved instead to carefully gather up the shards of the broken vase.
Vaguely startled by the abrupt emptiness he felt where before there had been the comfortable background of Tsuzuki's emotions, Hisoka opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was cut off as a sudden wave of nausea hit. He doubled over as the contents of his stomach made a determined dash for his throat, and actually fell out of his chair as a violent jolt of pained dizziness sent the room spinning around him.
Ignoring Tsuzuki's frantic questions and the sudden onslaught of foreign panic as his partner lost his hold on his shields, Hisoka brought both arms up to cradle his stomach and forced himself to stay calm and breathe evenly, relaxing as the waves of pain and nausea slowly ebbed away.
Gradually becoming aware again, he opened his eyes to find Tsuzuki, who had thankfully rebuilt his shields, leaning over him worriedly. Being careful not to actually touch him for fear of having emotions seep through the contact.
Sitting up carefully, Hisoka turned to snarl at his partner. Something about worrying too much over irrelevant things.
And then his blood was boiling.
Weird end, I know. And I realize that some of the phrasing is a bit awkward, unfortunately, my writing teacher has yet to break me of the habit of writing really long sentences. I also realize that I made things a bit vague in places. I did most of that on purpose and I'll fill it in in later chapters.
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