Vespers

Obligatory Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei is owned by Matsushita Yoko. If I owned it, Nagare and Touda would be fucking like bunnies. >.>

Technically, Monsters Under The Bed is a prequel to this, but this can stand alone. (it will be multipart though :3) Beware of dark!Tsuzuki and possible canon rape, though I will try very very hard not to. If I make a mistake, sorry in advance

Beta thanks to Colin, Gaby, Catie, and tdei. :3 Thank you loves!

--==--

“I’m jealous of him.”

The declaration hung between Tsuzuki and Tatsumi, momentarily stopping the air in the room, even their breath. They didn’t make eye contact, Tsuzuki too busy glaring out the window, Tatsumi staring, wide-eyed at his back.

He swallowed lightly, setting down his pencil deliberately, as if the act itself could erase the conversation from his mind. “Jealous?”

“Yes, goddamnit.” Tsuzuki’s voice was sharp, bitter. It was a tone that Tatsumi was unused to hearing from his former partner.

He shook his head a bit. It didn’t help, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so instead he silently watched the other grip the windowsill tightly enough to pale the skin of his knuckles.

Finally, Tsuzuki broke the tense silence. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“What should I say?” He kept his voice level, mild.

“I don’t know. –Something-.”

Tatsumi rubbed the bridge of his nose lightly, feeling the headache that he had been keeping more-or-less at bay for the last few hours start to flare to life. “…Why? Hisoka hates Muraki.”

“So?”

He frowned. “So… what on earth could you envy?”

Tsuzuki turned around, and Tatsumi almost wished he hadn’t. His face was perfectly controlled, but his eyes were dark with uncharacteristic anger.

“Come on, Tatsumi. Isn’t it obvious? Muraki has a part of Hisoka that I will –never- be able to have. And he’s supposed to be –mine-.”

He couldn’t help raising his eyebrows at that, startled, looking into Tsuzuki’s eyes. Tsuzuki glared back at him, not giving an inch, fiercer than Tatsumi had ever seen him.

There wasn’t anything he could say, so he simply nodded, a short jerk of his head that he hoped only conferred understanding, not agreement. It seemed to pacify Tsuzuki, at least, who relaxed a bit, leaning back against the window.

Tatsumi sighed to himself and picked his pencil up, opening the nearest file, his eyes carefully resting on neat, predictable rows of numbers. Maybe the message would be communicated to a certain emotionally volatile shinigami.

Eventually, Tsuzuki began to shift restlessly, like Tatsumi knew he would. No matter how oddly he was behaving, his former partnouldould never stay still for very long. After a few minutes, he threw himself into the couch, arms sprawled over the back carelessly.

He could feel the irritated glare Tsuzuki was leveling at him without even raising his eyes.

“Tatsumi... Come here.”

He adjusted his glasses on his nose, pausing for a second in his work. “I’m busy.”

“No you’re not, you’re avoiding me. Come here.”

He sighed and looked up at the other. His jaw was set, petulantly, just the barest hint of a full-blown pout on his lips. Tatsumi groaned internally. Tsuzuki wasn’t going to give up.

Reluctantly, he set his pencil down carefully, shut the folder and stood up, going to sit down on the opposite side of the couch, keeping as much distanceweenween them as possible.

Tsuzuki frowned a bit, really looking at him for the first time since he had come into Tatsumi’s office. He sighed a bit.

“Look at you. You’ve got one of your headaches again, haven’t you?”

Tatsumi shrugged, a bit uncomfortably. “It’s not that bad.”

The other man smirked a bit, knowing his er per partner better. Scooting closer, destroying the distance between them, he reached out, pulling Tatsumi’s glasses off carefully and setting them aside. Tatsumi had to keep himself from stopping him, blinking a bit as his focus contracted.

“Close your eyes.”

It was easy to obey the soft command, especially when strong hands slid into his hair, pulling at it gently. Tsuzuki was good at making the headaches go away. He always had been.

He almost didn’t notice the lips that traced a line from his temple to his cheek, caught up in the soothing feeling of strong fingers working down his neck. It was only when those lips reached the corner of his mouth that he really thought about what was happening, and by then, he was turning his face into it, lips parting, kissing Tsuzuki dreamily.

Warmth seeped into him through their clothes, settling on his chest, his arms, and he relaxed a bit more, sighing softly and sliding his hands around Tsuzuki’s waist, pulling him closer, practically into his lap. The other man smirked against his lips a bit, hands dropping to knead his shoulders gently.

It was so easy to fall into it again. No matter how many times he had told himself it was over, that he had to be strong for both their sakes, he inevitably crumbled.

Sometimes, he though he could hate Tsuzuki for making him so weak – but it was impossible to hate Tsuzuki. No matter what he had done, how many budgets he ruined or how many nights Tatsumi had spent in his office on the off chance that Tsuzuki might need something, the only person Tatsumi really could despise was himself.

Tsuzuki, after all, was Tsuzuki, and nothing would change him. It was unreasonable to expect the impossible from him – a hundred years would set anyone firmly in their ways.

Except he –was- changing. The anger that he normally kept so well hidden was bubg jug just under his skin now. Tatsumi could feel it under his fingertips as he slid his hands up Tsuzuki’s back.

Somewhere in the process of losing his shirt, Tatsumi remembered Tsuzuki’s eyes, the way they burned with the need to possess. Tsuzuki would never look at him that way, and he had to wonder distantly if he would want him to. There was something distinctly chilling about it, almost haunting.

Teeth, harsh against his lip, stilled his thoughts and he turned his attention to carefully pulling free the buttons of Tsuzuki’s shirt.

--==--

The wrinkles weren’t coming out of his tie, and Tatsumi glared at it in irritation, smoothing it down over his chest once more.

He wasn’t going to think about the fact that the top button of his shirt was missing, and that none of the buttons on his wrists had survived. Instead he looked out his office window.

He had just opened it, for the first time in years. It was difficult – the window had stuck at several spots, and it still wouldn’t go up fully, but the office had been stuffy.

Feeling slightly better, Tatsumi took a deep, slow breath and opened his file again, finding his place. He let the breath out in a quiet sigh, trying to order his mind, setting pencil to paper, adding up a column of numbers.

A gusty breeze stirred his paperwork, taking several sheets off a pile on the corner of his desk and sending them spinning around the room.

Annoyed, he got up to close the window again, fresh air be damned.

“Where have you been, idiot?”

Tatsumi froze, watching Tsuzuki sit down next to Hisoka on the grass outside his window. The younger shinigami glared at him slightly, but reached out too, catching Tsuzuki’s hand in his and holding it.

“Oh, Tatsumi was yelling at me about not getting my paperwork in on time.” Tsuzuki sighed dramatically, his shoulders drooping a bit, looking for all the world like a child in trouble. Tatsumi frowned a bit to himself, bristling at the blatant lie, half-waiting for the empath to call him on it.

The contradiction never came. Instead, Hisoka snorted disgustedly. “Stupid. I told you that was going to happen.”

“It was only a week late though.” He sniffled a little, drooping even more if that was possible.

Hisoka waved a hand dismissively, seemingly unaffected by his partner’s pout. “Whatever. I still won the bet.”

“Yeah, I know. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

Tsuzuki leaned in, kissing his partner gently, who tensed momentarily before leaning into him. Tatsumi sighed quietly, about to turn away when Tsuzuki’s eyes opened again, locking with his.

He was smiling, a cool, triumphant expression. Tatsumi stared at him for another moment, and then turned from the window. Quietly he left his office, heading out to the common room, not caring how many errant breezes riffled through his paperwork.

--==--

Without fail, Tatsumi drank the office coffee. It was a fact not lost on Watari, especially after countless lectures on the hazards of mixing his experiments into it, after numerous loss-of-funding notices sent to him over the “valuable time lost by employees due to reckless behavior.”

And even leaving that aside… nine times out of ten, Terezuma or Konoe made it to begin with, and neither of them could seem to figure out how to keep it from being way too strong and slightly burned.

Everyone knew that the office coffee was something akin to drinking boiled shoes at best, and potentially dangerous at worst. Tatsumi didn’t seem to notice.

Or maybe it was that he didn’t care.

However, it also wasn’t lost on Watari that he was drinking more of that coffee than usual.

Like now for instance. Tatsumi stirred a mug full of black coffee, seemingly unaware of his partner’s very existence, even though Watari sat no more than five feet from him in Wakaba’s chair, spinning it from side to side slowly.

Watari wasn’t oblivious. He knew about his partner’s feelings for Tsuzuki. At one time, he had even encouraged them. It would have been good for Tatsumi, and anything that served to loosen him up a bit would be wonderful, in Watari’s mind.

Things didn’t go quite the way he wanted them too, obviously.

So then, he thought things would get better now that Bon was here and Tsuzuki had someone to fixate on instead of drifting aimlessly. He had assumed that once the possibility of a real relationship with his former partner was gone, Tatsumi would be able to distance himself from Tsuzuki, and that he would gradually get better.

So far, it only seemed to be getting worse. Now Tatsumi spent just as many if not more nights in the office as Watari.

Just the other night, in fact, Tatsumi had actually offered to help him monitor an experiment. Watari had been so surprised, he didn’t notice when he accidentally added twice as much of a certain chemical to his experiment as he actually needed.

Tatsumi –didn’t- offer to help clean up the mess, unfortunately.

“It’s black coffee. I think you’ve stirred it enough.”

Tatsumi’s shoulders stiffened even more, if that was possible. Watari nibbled his lip thoughtfully as his partner carefully set the spoon down in the sink and raised the cup to his lips, sipping it slowly.

He didn’t even flinch. Watari sighed a bit, blowing his bangs out of his face. After another minute’s hesitation, he finally took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders a little. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“About what?” Tatsumi didn’t turn around, and his voice was perfectly calm, and very quiet. Watari winced slightly. That was not a good sign at all.

“Whatever’s bothering you.”

He took another sip of his coffee before answering. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Please…” He stood up slowly, going to his side, leaning against the counter and looking at him. Tatsumi didn’t look right. He was a touch too pale, and his eyes looked slightly bruised. “Don’t lie to me, Tatsumi.”

“I’m not.”

And that was it to the conversation, Watari realized as Tatsumi emptied the coffee into the sink and set his mug down in it with a bit more force than strictly necessary. All he could really do was watch as the secretary turned and left the room.

He sighed deeply. Nope, this was not going well at all.