Title; The Rose
Rating; M (and this chapter is finally why!)
Disclaimer; Don't own it, nope. Sorry. Not even the pretty poem at the beginning of the chapter. I just own my ideas, my words, and my multi-colored sharpie fine-tips. And for the love of a red eyed tiger god, write the twelfth book already, Matsushita-sama!
Authors Notes; I'm glad that the last chapter was met so well. I both hated and loved writing it. Hated because writer's block is evil, and Tatsumi was being a whiney little pain in the butt. He wouldn't do what I wanted without being OoC. Loved it because Watari was just… -sigh- I love that guy. He does exactly what you want and need him to without getting too weird and ruining the story. And crosswords in pen. The optimist!
This chapter has shounen-ai. I offer this as a warning. Many people have different definitions of this, so I'll clarify mine. I consider yaoi to be much more graphic than shounen-ai. I think the term also used is lime? The entire chapter is not this (it'd be a hellova short chapter if it was,) and there is plenty of other Tatsumi x Watari fluff for you to read if you want to skip that section of the chapter. But, as I said, it's barely graphic. Please, enjoy!
Now take my hand and hold it tight.
I will not fail you here tonight,
For failing you, I fail myself
And place my soul upon a shelf
In Hell's library without light.
I will not fail you here tonight.
-Dean Koontz, "The Book of Counted Sorrows"
Days passed quickly, falling into weeks even more so, and Tatsumi and Watari had become the worst kept secret in Meifu, this side of Tsuzuki and Hisoka are in love and just can't say it.
But really, this was bigger because it was Tatsumi, and everyone lived to harass the secretary in passive aggressive payback for pay cuts, docking, and constant glaring about not doing their prospective jobs. However, this secret, term used loosely, had spread like wildfire, the sort of thing where everybody knows, but at the combined threats of something in your coffee and "The Look" along with shadows and a scary butcher knife, no one really spoke of.
Or most didn't, anyway. Yuma and Saya had attempted and while Watari had merely grinned and asked which coffee mug was their's again (this had resulted in complete silence for the clever Shinigami,) Tatsumi had struggled threatening with The Look, pay cuts, various other not happy things, and eventually just giving up and letting them squeal and jump around.
Until they found Hisoka who promptly smacked them both, and for some reason Tsuzuki, before running like all the hounds of hell were on his heels and muttering something about, "Stupid girls," and "Pink House."
In the passing weeks, Watari had found himself in a particularly good mood which not even the knowing smirks and mutters in the halls could dampen. He knew the muttering wasn't vindictive, anyway, and it had worn out for most people within the first few days or so. However, as a Shinigami, it wasn't often that good things came along, much less anything worth comparing in whispers in the staff room.
And besides it all, after work, knowing in a few hours he would be able to see Tatsumi made it all worth it. They went out to dinners, often late, and talked for hours of things; of books and work and experiments. Though Watari didn't often understand the intricacies of the taxing system and Tatsumi found himself completely lost, not knowing the difference between a compound bond and an ionic bond, it didn't matter too much. Watari was happy to offer an ear when the older man needed to vent, and Tatsumi? He would admit only to himself that he loved the way the blonde's face would light up as he brainstormed out loud.
Watari's favorite, though, was when they didn't go out. When they spent their evenings at one apartment or the other, having dinner there. Tatsumi would insist on cooking, and Watari didn't mind too much; he was a good cook, and for the scientist culinary fell as much under the experimentation category as did chemistry or alchemy. It was safer for all concerned if the Shadow Master took over.
Or they would sit on the couch, Watari often leaning against Tatsumi, or his head in the other man's lap, while some television program played in the background. Tatsumi liked the news, and though Watari found it to be wholly depressing, he would watch it anyway. It helped that, even absently, Tatsumi would run his fingers through the long blonde strands around his face.
Save for in the Ministry building, where Tatsumi had asked him to revert back, Tatsumi had become Seiichiro, then Seii. To Watari, it had become second nature, as if Tatsumi had always been Seii to him. However, Watari had remained such for a bit, and only under a direct pleading had Tatsumi begun to use Yutaka. To his credit, though, he had never used the "-san" honorific, in office or out.
Watari was happy, in a way he hadn't thought possible, and hadn't foreseen. Things were not perfect, but they were close.
------
Tatsumi enjoyed the sharp tap of the knife against the cutting board as he worked in the kitchen. Something about the hard noise was nice, in the same way the clack of computer keys might be. Dark indigo eyes glanced from his hands up to the clock, and the tapping of the knife stilled.
He was late, though that was hardly worrisome, as he was always late. Not by much, but always enough. Having learned long ago that it was simply the other man's way, Tatsumi just pushed any meeting or date back a bit. The schedule ended up working out just fine, Watari coming in when Tatsumi wanted him to. Fifteen minutes or so past the time suggested.
"Honey, I'm home!" Well, not that late, then, it seemed. Tatsumi placed one hand over his eyes, stifling a groan. Watari was…Watari. There was no stopping the man; it was like a force of nature. The blonde poked his head inside the kitchen as Tatsumi moved to put the dinner into the oven. "Good, you made dinner; I didn't really feel like going out tonight. You want coffee?"
Tatsumi shook his head, already reaching forward to catch the glass that would have fallen in the scientist's erratic movements (combined with the lab coat that hung on everything.) "Yutaka, the jacket," he reminded him, putting away the cup that had nearly lost its life due to Watari's buoyancy. Tatsumi knew things were either very bad or very good if he had become this used to the other man.
Very good, it seemed, when Watari grimaced a silent apology, shrugging out of the coat and putting down his mug. His long sleeved shirt was loose and dark, the neckline wide around his collarbone, and the ties in the front loosened in a haphazard way. He moved forward, wrapping his arms around Tatsumi's waist without second guess, and for a moment nestling himself against the man's shoulder.
Tatsumi reacted automatically, leaning back against the counter and wrapping his arms around the other man's waist. "Bad day?" he hazarded a guess, and was met with wide brown eyes.
"Not particularly, no," Watari responded. "Just long." His feelings currently explained, he rested his forehead against the man once more. When Tatsumi suggested letting dinner wait until later and sitting out in the living room for a while, Watari glanced up. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Seii, you cooked and everything…."
With a soft sigh, Tatsumi led the other man out and took a seat on the couch, watching Watari curl up against him. "Don't worry about it; it wasn't impressive. Just throw together." He switched on the television, where an obviously made for TV movie was playing, and half zoned out, his fingers falling down to his partner's hair. "And you call me a workaholic," he murmured.
The younger man chuckled. "You are," he pointed out. "I just conveniently failed to mention my own over sighted ambition. You miss my boundless energy." He glanced up with an amused look in his amber eyes. "Admit it."
"I will not. Some of us like quiet," Tatsumi replied, and taking off the other man's glasses. He removed his own and brushed his lips tentatively against Watari's. The response was immediate and eager, long fingers carding through his chestnut hair and a warm mouth plundering against his own. The Shadow Master pulled back slightly, earning him a glare, which he hid a smile from, before coming back, slower.
Watari felt the other man shift his position, turning so that he was lying back against the couch. This left him over the Tatsumi, one leg on the couch and the other dangling. There was a moment when he took in the change before leaning down once more, the television merely white noise in the background now, if not entirely forgotten.
"Mm," Tatsumi mumbled softly through the kiss, and when Watari had pulled away enough that he could speak, he muttered, "We shouldn't go so fast." His face was still very close to Watari's, and he could see the visible disappointment in the other man's face, but the scientist pressed his forehead against Tatsumi's and murmured a wordless assent.
Watari fell curled up against the other man with a soft, nearly inaudible, sigh. He rested against the Tatsumi's chest, and was rewarded with the smallest upward tilt to his partner's mouth.
------
He knew better than to rush things, he really did, but he wanted more. Watari waited anyway, which spoke leagues for the usually active man. He understood that while his last relationship might have been forty years ago, his had not ended on bad terms.
Per say; death wasn't a positive end to a relationship, but there had been no bad blood. Tatsumi and Tsuzuki's partnership had fallen apart in a devastating way, making the man pull back. And though Tatsumi acted fine, Watari knew he hurt more than he let on.
He glanced at the clock, squinted. Damnit, he needed to buy contacts, but he never had time to sit there and put the things in. And they felt weird. It was blurry, but he could see that it was a bit after ten (or perhaps just turning ten… the hands were indistinct,) and they'd managed to kill a few hours under the combination of talking, some television, and kissing.
"I should probably leave for the night, Yutaka," Tatsumi muttered, but didn't move. It was only too clear the man didn't entirely want to go. Still, he reached for his glasses on the table next to them.
They stood, but Watari reached out, pulling the other man towards him. The inch and a half difference in their heights never seemed as large as it did when he was this close to the other man. He tilted his head up, capturing the other's lips briefly, and murmured, "Stay the night." He saw the other man frown slightly, not in annoyance, but certainly not in agreement either, so he added, "Please, Seii."
Not moving away, Tatsumi neither moved closer. The hesitation showed in his eyes, if not in the arms that slowly wrapped around Watari's slim waist. "Tonight," he murmured. "It's late--"
"--and we have work tomorrow and a million other reasons," Watari finished easily. "I don't care. Stay." He leaned forward, lips tracing along Tatsumi's jaw line, in the barest ghost of a touch. Along his neck…. He was playing with fire, igniting feelings he knew the secretary had buried for, roughly, half a century.
Tatsumi pulled him closer, pressing them together, and closed his eyes as long fingers brushed back his errant brown strands, those skillful lips still at work. "Yutaka," he muttered, his voice a warning that went unheeded. And it hardly mattered, when warm breath whispered over his ear in such a way.
Strong fingers directed Watari's chin, bringing his lips back to Tatsumi's, and he responded in kind before he separated. Those blue eyes, seen as steely and hard to so many, but he had seen them soften with amusement, and caring; now they were trained on him, watching Watari. The scientist wrapped slender fingers around the Tatsumi's wrist, and pulled him gently forward, towards the hallways of the apartment.
Tatsumi found he couldn't resist, didn't even want to, wrapped up in and swept away by Watari and everything that meant. Even as they walked, Watari pulled him close again, lips pressing into his while his hands had become far too interested in the tie. Which went flying off somewhere in a matter of seconds, and Tatsumi really didn't miss it.
One arm gripped around Watari's middle, the other thrown out to keep their balance once the scientist had decided it had not only been a good idea to lead Tatsumi back to the bedroom, but to kiss him while doing so, thereby walking backwards. Beginning with an ineptitude where balance was concerned, adding closed eyes and multi-tasking (the buttons of his dress shirt hardly stood a chance, really,) and you received an off kilter Shinigami.
Tatsumi caught the man before he fell, or even stumbled, and was promptly dragged back into the bedroom.
Using an advantage of height and muscles, Tatsumi fell onto his back against the comforters, the crisp linen soft and cool against his heated skin. And more so when the shirt was finally off him. He responded by pulling Watari's shirt over his head, and tossing it off towards the other side of the room.
A muffled hoot, sounded disgruntled was heard, and Tatsumi caught sight of 003 climbing out from under the black cloth.
"Yutaka?"
Watari looked up from his intense interest in Tatsumi's collarbone, amber eyes darkened and intense, hair flyaway, across his face. "Mm?"
Flicking away the errant strands before burying his hands in the golden waves, he murmured, "Get rid of your voyeur before she gets thrown out a window." She could fly so the threat was a passive one, but he wasn't exactly prepared to do this with a critiquing miniature owl in the room.
"Voyeur?" Apparently having not noticed the bird until now, Watari offered only a tilted smile. "Uh, sorry. 003, out." He pointed to the door, and received an angry huff in reply (if also compliance.) He sighed, looking down at the man under him. "I'm gonna hear it from her tomorrow." Teeth against his neck caused a small noise of outrage. "Hey, Seii--!" Another nip. "Got it, I'll shut up."
There were advantages to being in a relationship with someone on just this side of genius. Tatsumi brushed his lips against the other's, and was once more encompassed by Watari's enthusiasm. He could feel long fingers graze over the button of his dress pants, then slipping inside, causing a sharp intake of breath.
The chuckle that responded was irritating, because Watari was entirely too amused by this whole ordeal. And if he was able to chuckle, Tatsumi was clearly being negligent.
He had never been worried about things like complicating the relationship, or work, or whatever else he had been projecting to Watari. Tatsumi knew now that he had never fooled him, and Watari had simply taken matters into his own hands. Over fifty years of celibacy was a damned long time, it didn't matter who you were. Being a Shinigami and therefore borderline immortal certainly made the time seem like shorter, but none the less….
And then conscious thought went bye-bye at whatever it was Watari's fingers were doing, and Tatsumi groaned slightly, running his hands along the scientist's chest, discovering hot spots, and more often, sensitive spots, that made the man jump rather than respond. He'd have to remember those; the image really was amusing.
Tatsumi's dress pants were brusquely shoved down to the corner of the bed, which was followed by Watari's corduroys flying off into some random corner of the room. They lay in bed together, exploring, endlessly fascinated, as are all new lovers, by textures and shapes and angles and degrees of resiliency.
For once, Seiichiro Tatsumi found someone in whom he thought to trust. So he trusted, wholeheartedly, and was not let down.
The night passed, though for them it was as though time sped up far too quickly, and neither of them seemed to sleep much on that evening.
------
Tatsumi was on time the next morning, as he always was. If he was somewhat quieter, perhaps, it was of no great notice to anyone. He had enough energy to threaten Tsuzuki about being late before heading into his office to cope with budget reports which might have been of more use as kindling. Or maybe Tatsumi was just a little annoyed by the fact that the Accounting Department seemed to find the fault with him, personally, that the Summons Department was a financial black hole.
The only question that remained was where the resident mad scientist was. While he may have been the most absent minded person one could ever hope to meet, he was hardly late to work. One, because unless you were Tsuzuki, it was nearly impossible to be late when you can teleport, and two, because he started his day by barging into Tatsumi's office, shouting about something, and he very rarely skipped opportunities to do that.
In truth, the man was running somewhat late. He needed his certain hours of sleep. He may have stayed up to ungodly hours before, but he usually had caffeine tablets or something equally effective on hand the next morning. Unfortunately for poor Watari, caffeine tabs were sorely lacking, and Tatsumi had been too kind (or too smart,) to forcibly wake the man and had instead set his alarm.
Tatsumi woke up, as ever, at six… or rather he usually woke up at five thirty or so and enjoyed a few quiet minutes in bed with his thoughts. He had been tired, slept that half an hour in, and risen from the bed at his normal six. Watari had surmised this much from the short letter that had been left on the kitchen table.
He could guess the rest from that. Tatsumi was a morning person. Watari was a middle of the night, near constant insomniac person. So, he could vaguely remember Tatsumi attempting to wake him up and his muttering death threats if it was before seven thirty. But not much more.
Watari raced down the halls of his apartment, his hands frantically pulling back the hair that he hadn't had time to tame (giving whole new definition to the term bed head.) His braiding skills, which were fairly proficient as far as males' skills in that area were concerned, didn't exactly hold up when he was attempting to walk at the same time. Not having a mirror or a hairbrush on hand also didn't help the situation that much.
Muttering something unintelligible around the key ring in his mouth (he really didn't feel like forgetting them again…) Watari glanced around his apartment for his small feathered companion. Done with his hair, he secured it with one of the various ribbons he owned, and dropped his keys into his hand. "003, time to go, now!"
No response.
Watari sighed. Females, it seemed, were temperamental. It didn't matter the species. He knew she was in the house and not sleeping, because she'd been poking around the kitchen the last he'd seen her. And the lack of response meant she wasn't happy. Trudging back into the kitchen, he found her there, sitting on the table, her entire tiny body positively radiating reproach.
This, of course, only happened when he was late. He'd probably laugh about this later. If he wasn't half asleep and in a very large hurry he'd be laughing about it now, he was sure. "003, didn't you hear me?" Of course she had. Stupid question. Though depending on whom you asked, the entire idea of speaking to a miniature owl could have been seen as stupid. "We have to go. I'm late."
Hoot. Glare. She turned away from him.
Great. She wasn't explaining why she was mad, of course. He had to remember. Which he was bad at, at any given time before eleven. Watari quickly thought over his memories of last night (not an unpleasant experience by any means,) before he remembered kicking her out. "Oh." That explained more than it didn't. "I apologize for kicking you out, 003, but that was rather private."
She twitched, but still did not face him.
Watari stared down at his watch, and winced. Forty past eight, with the seconds hand twitching perilously on. And there would be no wheedling her into a better mood because he knew that this bird would enjoy torturing him for a while. "All right, fine," Watari remarked, and started towards the door. "I can see I'm not going to change your mind and I'm late so I'll have to run. I'll see you after work, and I might be a little bit late, so..." He shrugged, and headed towards the door. Throwing on an old pair of sneakers, he started to close the door when a small feathered puffball sneaked through and landed on his shoulder.
Apparently not too mad. Or else just couldn't stand being locked up. Either way, she earned a few pets in return for joining him, and Watari closed up the flat before heading in to work.
------
It did not bode well that Watari's lab had been silent for so long, Tsuzuki thought. He knew his friend, knew that quiet like this was the silence before a storm. Storm meaning some strange experimenting that everyone would be better off without. Or Watari might get bored and bring office technology to life. Such was not unknown for him, and he still couldn't look at a fax machine quite the same way.
Others said Watari just hadn't come in yet, but, oh! Tsuzuki was convinced. No, this was plotting, plain and simple. Or he thought so until the scientist burst through the office, riffling through his inbox hurriedly and half explaining his lateness to the chief-- something having to do with oversleeping, an alarm clock, and nitroglycerin, though the latter could have been the brainstorming of some experiment-- and heading into Tatsumi's office with obvious carelessness.
Anyone else who entered when Tatsumi was dealing with the budgets that tested his temper to its furthest point would have been threatened on sight. Or made to cry (if you were, say, Tsuzuki.) It wasn't personal, so much that Tatsumi was in a bad mood and someone was there.
From what the purple eyed Shinigami could see before the door closed, Tatsumi looked up from the papers in front of him and…smiled? Tatsumi didn't smile unless he was earning money or cutting Tsuzuki's pay. The door was half closed by the scientist, but their voices could still be heard, slightly muffled.
"That was forty-five minutes late, right? I believe you bested Tsuzuki-san's record."
"You couldn't wake me up?" Watari didn't sound really annoyed so much as amusedly exasperated.
"When I tried I was promptly threatened with various chemicals I can't pronounce. I still don't know how you could. Nice turtleneck by the way."
"Oh, shut up."
Tsuzuki watched as what appeared to be Watari's foot kicked the door closed the rest of the way, and no further sound was heard.
"Are you working at all?"
Except for his annoyed partner's voice. "Um, kinda."
Hisoka sat down at his desk, pulling his share of the work in front of him and giving his partner an impressive glare. Which seemed to earn him no reaction from the older man except for a guilty grin and turning back to his papers. He did not actually do the papers, settling for drawing tiny doodles along the margins.
It really didn't help him finish up his logistics paperwork, but it passed the time. And besides how could Hisoka be mad when he looked at the happy little scribbles?
He glanced up as Watari left a few minutes later, calling over his shoulder as he closed the door.
"You're not staying locked up for lunch, to hell with the Accounting Department." Watari closed the door firmly behind him over his lover's protests and smiled. It boded ill if the poor secretary tried to argue about having to work. Very ill.
Catching sight of Tsuzuki and Hisoka when they glanced up, he tipped them a wink, and, humming, strolled away towards his laboratory. Throughout that day, no explosions were heard; inanimate objects remained such and strange things were not dropped into unwatched cups.
This raised a few eyebrows (usually, there was at least a rabid stapler with an attitude to lighten the mood…or to fear,) if no complaints. After all, a day where you didn't have to precisely time how long it would take the resident mechanical engineer to drug the food was a good day.
No, that day, Watari sorted through his notes, filed reports, all the while with a smile on his face.
Author's Notes; I really don't liked the ending; c'est crappy. However, thank whatever God you choose that my computer has stopped spazzing for me to write this. Zomfg, yay! I was dying, 'cause I really wanted to finish this, and I was having so many issues with the damn computer. I apologize to those who were waiting. I'm working on the Epilogue (next and last chapter -sob-) tomorrow. Or I should be (Kitsune might be giving me stuff to read…she's my beta.)
Yeah, I told you it wasn't gonna be graphic love scene. I wish they had the rating OT (Older Teen,) but it's either M or T. So, -sigh- yeah. I didn't want to rate too low, so safe rather than sorry thing. I complain about that a lot, so just ignore me. To my reviewers, I am sorry for the wait, and I hope chapter was worth waiting for (or at least not horrendous.) I'm a bad judge, I think all my stuff's horrible, which makes Kitsune yell at me. -.-;;
Samuraiduck27- Glad you liked! I was worried the "Why the hell did you stop?" would be cliché so I'm really happy it was well met. Yes, Tsuzuki's love of sweets is Tatsumi's downfall. See, the chain goes Tsuzuki Wakaba Saya and Yuma Everybody else. Apologies for not being able to update soon, but I hope this is long enough to make up for it (about nine pages, I believe….)
Eternalsailorsolarwind- Here's another update for your inbox. Tsuzuki was perfect? Yay! He's so hard to nail; I think he's probably the most complex character in the series. Tatsumi is tricky, too. Yes, I figured it would be most logical (ha ha, yeah right, Tatsumi was just looking for an excuse to kiss him.) His feelings are mostly sorted out. The discussion with Hisoka helps a lot, and then this chapter is sort of the dénouement of everything.
PuppetofDreams- Awesome? -blushes like a schoolgirl/Hisoka- Thank you! Stuff like that makes me sit here with the biggest smile on my face, I swear. Lol, yes Tatsumi's scary. He makes me shake in my proverbial boots (I don't own a pair of real boots, so, Sketchers, maybe?) -shifty eyes- Where did Tatsumi learn to kiss you ask? -shoves Tsuzuki in a closet- -shoves Hisoka in with him- Nowhere! Uhm, next question? -grin- I'm glad you liked so much.
Ed-Girl- Thanks so much. Nope, not ended yet. The Epilogue has the ending stuff. I've actually had the last sentence written for a long time. Is it just me, or do other people do that?
Kai Sohma- Is your name a Fruits Basket reference? Awesome manga. Anywhoo, yesh, Tatari is an amazing ship, but since it's largely fan created it's hard to find stuff for it. Uhm, not lemon. More like lime or shounen-ai. I have a lot of admiration for people who can write subtle and beautiful lemon; I can't.
StickmanRVR- Thank you. - Yes, fluff is great. It's soft and cuddly, and doesn't try to kill you like a certain unhappy secretary.
PirateChickxArrg- I LOVE THIS REVIEW. -;; I'm a weirdo, sorry. But thank you so much.
Jazi- I think you have the easiest name to type out of everyone who's reviewed. Lol. I'm glad you're floored, because I really loved writing this. Tsuzuki tries to play matchmaker; he's so funny, 'cause everyone who reads/watches Yami no Matsuei wants to hit him and scream, "Kiss Hisoka, goddamnit!" Or maybe that's just me. Thank you, I'm so glad I made it onto your favorites.
Until the next update, I remain humbly yours,
--Phoenix