Pairings: Hisoka x Tsuzuki (uh...duh)
Warnings: this fic contains yaoi, if you don't like it don't read it-and if you don't like it why are you even reading this series anyway? Lol --
Tatsumi thumbed through some papers thrown half-heartedly at his desk, grumbling over the extra work a certain sick slacker had left him and silently cursing himself for always being the first to arrive in the office.
"Good morning, Tatsumi-san." A timid young voice broke him momentarily from his thoughts of self-loathing.
"Good morning, Hisoka." He sighed simply, not bothering to glance up at the blonde boy's expectant emerald eyes. Instead he feverishly continued his work, bothered slightly by the sudden presence of a soft breath against his neck.
After a good five minutes of this Tatsumi tiredly gave up his pace, slamming his fists on his desk and turning his cobalt eyes upward. "Is there something you need to tell me, Hisoka?" He asked, impatience tinting his words, while turning his eyes to meticulously scope the mounds of paperwork ahead of him and silently calculate the amount of money this extra work would account.
"Oh I'm sorry, you just seemed agitated..." The youth trailed off, he wasn't usually one to pry but he rarely had a chance to be alone with Tatsumi and actually sense what the seemingly cold older man was feeling. He wasn't surprised to find his spirit tense, stressed. Tatsumi's strained posture and speech constantly seemed to radiate an awareness that he was more qualified than the idiots surrounding him.
"Agitated?" Tatsumi growled, pulling his gaze up to Hisoka's innocent face and momentarily abandoning his industrious thoughts. "I am agitated, yes, but worried as well." The older man stated casually, resting his chin on his palm with a slight glint in his eye.
"Worried-about whom?" Hisoka pushed aside a stray flock of papers and sat on the soft maple of Tatsumi's desk, concern knitting his brow.
"Tsuzuki, who else. Stupid baka's got himself sick, I've always told him all those sweets were unhealthy..." Tatsumi stopped; he had an odd sensation on his cheek...like something soft and warm was against it. His thoughts jumped to the worst possibilities (which included a very perverted Hisoka) and cautiously reached out his trembling hand to feel the area around him.
"Tsuzuki-sama is sick? A high-pitched squeal buzzed in his ear, forcing the auburn- haired man to frantically pull his arm away in shock and push his chair back into another supple, tender body.
"How awful, we have to visit him Yuma!" An equally obnoxious voice sounded behind him, causing the tight-fisted brunette to jump from his chair in shock and mock-anger.
"Saya, Yuma, what are you doing in this department?" Tatsumi asked through gritted teeth, slowly closing his eyes and rubbing his aching temples in frustration.
"We were just coming to have a little fun!" Saya squealed, latching on to Hisoka's starch white sleeve as he attempted to sneak away.
"Yeah, there are so many cute guys in this sector!" Yuma assisted Saya by wrapping her strong arms around the struggling boy's slender waist. "It doesn't matter now, anyway, what's this about Tsuzuki honey being sick?" The small girl purred, drooping her plump lips into a slight pout.
Tatsumi eyed the three inter-mangled youth ahead of him before shrugging his shoulders and sinking back to his desk chair. "I don't know; he called this morning, stomach virus or something. If you ask me, though, he's just trying to get out of all this paper work." The older man stopped rubbing his temples, picking up a new paper to continue his work.
"Oh...can shinigami get ill?" Hisoka blinked curiously, pulling himself from the two manic girls' tight embrace.
"Of course, they travel through the human world in physical bodies, don't they?" A smiling Watari replied as he walked into the building, stroking his bird's soft, feathered chest while giving every one a gentle smile of acknowledgement. "Why, are you feeling ill, Hisoka?" The blonde scientist asked, joining the small congregation around Tatsumi's desk.
"No, no, I'm fine. Tatsumi just said that Tsuzuki has a virus." The young shinigami replied, "Though I'm wondering if he might just be hung-over." He continued seriously, looking slightly angry at the prospect.
"Ha ha, that's true, maybe you should go check on him, Hisoka, then you can drag his lazy ass in if that -is- indeed the case." Watari laughed with a slight gleam in his eye, imagining the possibilities.
Tatsumi's fist balled angrily as his patience for the raucous assembly around his desk to simple exasperation. "Well whatever you decide to do, direct it AWAY from my desk, please!" Tatsumi's voice rose to an angry pitch while still managing to maintain an air of order and politeness.
"Aww how sweet, you're worried about Tsuzuki, aren't you, Tatsumi-sama?" Watari cooed, digging an elbow into his fuming friend's side.
Tatsumi ignored the teasing scientist and continued his wild flipping through the heaps of documents, a bit of pink tinting his cheeks.
Having done his damage, Watari turned his attention to the blonde shinigami who was once more batting himself from the embrace of the two rabid girls. "In all seriousness, Hisoka, you should check up on him, I know he goes crazy if he doesn't have some one around to annoy." Watari patted the teen's shoulder sympathetically, as if to say 'sorry, but you're the youngest, so we can use you.'
"Why do I get the overwhelming sense that you're just trying to pass the bill?" Hisoka groaned, turning his head only to find his company gone, save for the furiously working man in front of him. "They always make Tsuzuki's partners deal with his antics, don't they?" The young shinigami mumbled, somewhat rhetorically. Giving up, Hisoka mumbled to himself angrily and turned to walk away when a soft scoff reached his ear.
"Why do you think he's gone through so many"
--
Tsuzuki raked trembling fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, carelessly dropping the phone back on its receiver and slumping against the wall for support. Tatsumi had sounded slightly pissed over the phone, a twinge of guilt stroked the shinigami's mind for leaving his friend with his paperwork, but he quickly forgot it as his stomach curled in pain.
'Damn, what could I possible have eaten?' His hazy mind raced while his knees slumped against the cold floor of his dimly lit apartment. Sweat slid down his taunt face while harsh chills raced up his spine, worsening his already pounding headache.
Clumsily lifting a heavy arm to the table beside him, Tsuzuki hoisted himself up; one arm cradling his stomach while the other leaned heavily atop the stand. 'If I can just get to my bedroom I can get some sleep and everything will be ok.' He doubted this was true, but it was incentive enough to force his sore muscles to trudge to his soft bed and wrap himself in his warm quilt.
Tsuzuki burrowed himself to the depths of his sheets, struggling to absorb every ounce of warmth the silky folds could provide. His stomach churned angrily, making him double in pain and wish he had thought to set a trashcan and cup of water next to his bedded sanctuary. Despite the shinigami's most intrepid wishes, his gnashing stomach continued to wage war, eventually winning out to his pleading mind.
The brown-haired man pushed himself from bed,
staggering to the bathroom before his stomach's contents stained the
honey wood floors. The flushing toilet marked the end of his episode as
Tsuzuki slumped across the bathroom floor, letting the cool tiles
soothe his burning cheek. 'I'll only close my eyes for a minute.' He
assured himself, slowly letting warm eyelids droop over his dull
violet-eyes.
--
Hisoka stood aimlessly in front of Tsuzuki's apartment door, enjoying the peace of the warm sun against his neck before entering the disordered enclosure Tsuzuki fondly referred to as "home." After a long sigh and a crick of his tense neck Hisoka let his soft, pale knuckles fall heavily against the door's wooden face. A few seconds passed by with no response so the young shinigami knocked harder, repeating his action a few more times for emphasis.
"This would be so much easier if you had a doorbell, Tsuzuki..." Hisoka mumbled under his breath as he waited once more for a call from the depths of the residence. Not wanting to seem anxious, the blonde stood his ground till he was sure a few minutes had rolled by, before reaching forward to test the lock. He couldn't help but let a smirk rest on his cherry lips as the doorknob turned with a satisfying click.
"Careless as always," Hisoka scoffed, carefully sidestepping a pile of clothes nestled beside the door. The blonde stopped, gently shutting the door behind him while waiting for his emerald eyes to adjust to the dimly lit apartment.
"Tsuzuki?" He asked timidly while scanning the room for any sign of life. "You're hiding behind a door trying to scare me aren't you? Stupid baka." The young shinigami scolded, finally finding the courage to continue deeper into Tsuzuki's home.
Hisoka tried to seem nonchalant but a foreboding feeling loomed over his head, his empathetic heart was telling him something was off and his mind told him it concerned Tsuzuki. After glancing through a few small rooms he came to a slightly open door, flooding delicate light into the rest of the gloomy house.
'This must be Tsuzuki's room then.' Hisoka considered seriously, 'but what if his plan all along was to get me -here-...' The blonde shut his jade eyes weakly as callous memories permeated his strong mind; pushing him into a new, complete darkness.
"N-no!" He shouted weakly, surprising himself by the strength of his own voice. 'Tsuzuki would never do that, he's an idiot and a slacker but he wouldn't do that!' He assured himself, balling his fist in new resolve as he pushed the door open slowly, letting the soft creak of the rusty hinges course his ears.
Hisoka could feel the speech he had prepared gurgling in his throat, ready to chastise the lazy shinigami for skipping a day of work, only to let his arm fall weakly from the door and have his words settle to the base of his neck. All he could see was a large bed adorned in crumpled lavender sheets, a small table lamp resting on a table beside it.
The blonde's heart jumped to his throat as he scanned the room silently. 'This is ridiculous, where could he be...' Hisoka turned his soft eyes; distracted by another brighter source of light seeping from a door positioned in the upper right corner of the modest bedroom. His pounding heart ebbed as his panic settled to the pit of his stomach. 'So that's where you're hiding.' He almost felt like laughing with relief as he made his way to the lightly stained door.
"Tsuzuki?" He asked somewhat impatiently, knocking lightly on the door in case the older man was indecent. Receiving no response, Hisoka pushed the door open stopping with panic as the intensity of the situation washed over him. Crumpled on the floor, next to the toilet, was a shivering Tsuzuki.
Hisoka rushed across the linoleum floors and settled to his knees, "Tsuzuki, Tsuzuki!" He repeated over and over, straining his frail muscles to turn the older shinigami onto his lap. He bit his lip nervously, brushing Tsuzuki's damp brunette hair from his sweat-streaked brow and resting his cool palm across the shinigami's burning forehead.
The blonde pulled his hand away in shock; Tsuzuki's forehead was too hot, this temperature had to be dangerous, even for a shinigami. "I have to get you to the bed, Tsuzuki, but I don't think I'm strong enough." Hisoka's voice wavered as dark thoughts coursed his mind, making him hold himself in fright.
'Dammit why am I so weak!' He rebuked himself mentally. 'I have to do this, Tsuzuki needs me.' With renewed courage Hisoka rose weakly to his feet, carefully entwining his arms under Tsuzuki's. Using the corner of the sink for leverage, the young shinigami pulled Tsuzuki to the bedroom, panting as he crawled on the unkempt bed, using his own body as a weight to pull the older shinigami atop the satin sheets.
Satisfied with his work, Hisoka wiped his sweaty brow with his wrist, pulling his feet to the floor. He had to find a bowl and a washcloth to help pull down the older shinigami's high fever. Sighing slightly from his physical exertion, Hisoka started to rise from the bed, only to feel a surprisingly strong grip around his brittle wrist.
Shocked, Hisoka turned to meet Tsuzuki's blurry violet eyes. "Don't leave." The brunette whispered through dry lips before letting his hand drop to the bed and succumbing once more to unconsciousness.
Hisoka stood poised, torn between looking for a bowl and watching over Tsuzuki. "I-I won't." He whispered quietly, lightly stroking the older shinigami's open palm before turning to continue his search. --
So there ya go, I hope this wasn't too bad XD I had fun
typing it if that's any consolation. Haha so R&R please, especially
if you think I should continue. I'm not sure at this point.
Thanks to anyone who stops by to read the fic!