Fic: YnM "Life Lessons" for Isis
Jul. 11th, 2006 01:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raegan_1Author: Rae
Title: Life Lessons
Fandom: Yami no Matsui
Words: 2913 (as per NoteTab)
Warnings: Tsuzuki/Hisoka angsty fluff. Fluffy angst? PWP-withoutSmut, TWT. And no, I haven't a clue whose kitchen it is. (Largely, but not completely, unbeta-ed. Some people just can't wait :D)
Disclaimer: I do not own YnM or the characters, or the plot. I'm simply playing without profit (that's a new PWP for ya.)
Note: Written for Isis's birthday. I still have an hour and a half, but I'm not expected to get the other one to work for me. :D Happy birthday, Lovely. ETA: I've been told that when I went for subtlety, I might have over-reached just a tad. But I -like- it.
Summary: It's less about the cooking.
Tsuzuki was humming again. Hisoka knew the sound well, having been exposed to it for the previous seven days. The young Shinigami stopped at the threshhold that separated the hallway and the kitchen, and stared at the door. He well knew what he would find on the other side, and the idea was unpleasant in many regards. Tsuzuki wearing the pink-and-purple patterned apron, used pans and pots scattered across each and every surface dripping their contents onto the floor, and some vile concoction made from indeterminate ingredients.
Given a choice, and still alive, Hisoka would have starved to death before trying anything Tsuzuki had cooked. However, he could not refuse Tsuzuki's wide-eyed entreaties, not after the first and last time he'd rejected a meal made by his partner. Far worse than the hurt in Tsuzuki's voice had been the understanding smile that did nothing to hide his disappointment.
It would take a stronger Shinigami than Hisoka to stand against Tsuzuki's eagerness. Especially when the alternative was so much easier, both to do and to live with. For that reason, Hisoka managed every day to swallow down a couple bites of the waste that would put a starving man off food and still spit out the bald-faced lie of, "You're improving."
Unfortunately, each meal seemed worse than the one before, and Hisoka was afraid he was reaching the limit of the torture he would stand for his partner. He found it impossible to understand how a man so in love with food could cook such horrid things, and he only knew, as he finally pushed open the door, that something had to change.
* * *
Day nine and Hisoka knew it was over. His stomach would not accept another bite of anything Tsuzuki cooked, and if he wished to refrain from hurting Tsuzuki's feelings, he was going to have to quickly come up with some alternative, something, anything, to keep Tsuzuki from the kitchen. Even if that meant learning to cook himself.
The first step was getting to the kitchen before Tsuzuki. An easy feat, since all it required was a well-worded statement about Tatsumi wishing to speak with him. He'd heard nothing as such specifically from their boss, but he knew Tatsumi would not bypass an opportunity to discuss the latest budget with Tsuzuki.
Second step was securing the apron, a recipe, and the proper ingredients. It was the second that proved most difficult, since it seemed part of Tsuzuki's lack of cooking ability stemmed from lack of instruction. There was not a cookbook to be found anywhere in the vicinity, and Hisoka had to fall back on his memory of simple meals and the parts that made them whole.
By the time Tsuzuki, slightly subdued, walked through the door, dinner was almost done. The counter was clean, the apron had no more spots on it than it had had before, and Hisoka was given the very best reward he could have asked for: a surprised, happy smile from Tsuzuki.
"You're cooking?" the older Shinigami asked, stepping further into the room. The answer was obvious, but Hisoka just nodded, his eyes taking note of how the tired lines around Tsuzuki's eyes were rapidly disappearing under the power of his apparent happiness. The meeting with Tatsumi must have been worse than Hisoka predicted, and he only just managed to squash his feeling of guilt by reminding himself that the tiredness Tsuzuki was feeling was in no way greater than the hurt Hisoka would have caused by telling Tsuzuki exactly how bad his cooking was.
Hisoka's chest tightened infinitesimally at the look on Tsuzuki's face. The silent question of "For me?" was in Tsuzuki's eyes, and when the light of reverence began to dim, Hisoka expected to see Tsuzuki's exuberant, puppy-ish expression of eager delight. Instead, he blinked, taken aback by the softened expression and tender gaze Tsuzuki was bestowing on him. It made his partner seem more beautiful than ever, and Hisoka found himself awed by the realization that he'd put that look there. In his chest, there was another tightening, like a string pulled tight and threatening to break.
He turned back to the stove, afraid as always of the feelings Tsuzuki created in him. For a long moment, Tsuzuki continued to be a warm presence behind him, and then he was moving, Hisoka's senses telling him his partner was heading across to the other side of the room. "I'll set the table, Hisoka," and Tsuzuki's voice was soft and low, filled with understanding instead of hurt.
* * *
Something was wrong. Very wrong. Hisoka knew exactly what ingredients he had put into the pot, and none of them had been that shade of orange. It still smelled like it was supposed to, but he wasn't quite willing to trust scent alone. Tsuzuki's cooking at taught him that.
Six days into his usurpation of Tsuzuki's kitchen, and Hisoka was learning to deal with the failures as well as the successes. If he were to use Tsuzuki to judge his cooking talents, Hisoka would have thought himself a veritable chef. As it was, of the previous two meals, only one had been better than if it had been made by his partner; without his previous reasons of eating to save Tsuzuki's feelings, he'd found himself unable to eat more than a single bite, something he knew Tsuzuki was completely aware of even if he hadn't yet said anything.
Hisoka had not yet purchased a cookbook. He'd been kept busy during the days with research and practicing with the shikigami. So far, it hadn't seemed to matter, as Tsuzuki wasn't put off by the previous night's disaster, if his current anticipation was any indication. He continued to hover over Hisoka's shoulder as Hisoka debated whether to add anything more.
There might have been a reason other than inability that had made cooking so complicated for Hisoka. Once he'd realized Hisoka planned on occupying the kitchen, Tsuzuki had apparently decided to encourage at close-quarters. He appeared in the kitchen shortly after Hisoka, a smaller version of his pleased expression in place. Hisoka generally had him round up ingredients while he started cooking, and Tsuzuki seemed happy to help without offering suggestions. It was companionable, and after the mess that was their training sessions, Hisoka was glad to be able put that other kind of failure aside, at least for the time being.
Tsuzuki was easy company, never straying into uncomfortable territory, careful of the invisible boundaries of communication as he was of Hisoka's physical boundaries. He was very cautious to stay on the correct side of the lines Hisoka had drawn, and for that Hisoka was both grateful and, something he had so far admitted only to himself, a little disappointed. He consoled himself with the reminder that Tsuzuki's respect for him was strong enough to preserve those awkward demarcation lines, even though Hisoka sometimes caught Tsuzuki withdrawing an extended hand or forcibly stopping himself from invading the space around Hisoka.
In fact, on days that have gone better than bad, Hisoka finds himself thinking of Tsuzuki as sweet, with the contradictory way he seems to want to gravitate in Hisoka's direction and the steps he takes to ensure he maintains the distance Hisoka had initially demanded.
It had been a better day than most, and when Hisoka caught Tsuzuki a little closer than normal, though his nearness could be attributed to either Hisoka or the cooking food, Hisoka found himself responding subconsciously to his partner. He relaxed his posture, feeling the muscles along his shoulders relax, and then he turned slightly, opening up his position to the stove so that he was angled to Tsuzuki. It was an invitation of sorts, one he himself didn't recognize immediately, though Tsuzuki seemed to catch on much faster. His partner sidled a little closer, leaning forward over the stove for an exaggerated sniff before settling back into a position that more than halved the distance there had been between them, quiet acceptance of a silent invitation.
* * *
Hisoka was content with his three-to-one success-failure rate. Not everything he cooked had turned out exactly as he'd wanted, but only three times in the last twelve days had he scraped the entirety of his dinner off the plate at the end of the meal. Tsuzuki didn't seem to notice any difference between Hisoka's successes or his failures, partaking of all the meals with the same excited enjoyment.
"Ah, Hisoka, it smells good." Collaborative cooking was something new, but they had progressed from Tsuzuki searching out ingredients to taking a more active part in selection and creation. Cooking together yielded fewer disturbing concoctions than Tsuzuki alone, and Hisoka found he enjoyed it, even the mini-battles over the appropriateness of adding cayenne pepper to everything. By the cup.
"Yes," Hisoka agreed. Texture, color, and scent were what he would have expected. It was a satisfying end to a long week, to be able to cook and eat a decent meal with Tsuzuki. Better yet was Tsuzuki's blatant appreciation of the same with Hisoka. More and more in the past few days, Hisoka had come to realize his effect on his partner; the smile his company brought to Tsuzuki's mouth, the happiness he generated with his even more recent step in their relationship: a light touch.
So far, that progression had caused him the most anxiety. It had seemed such a foreign and terrible thing at the beginning, to think of willingly reaching out and coming into contact with someone else, with all the mess of emotions that brought with it, both his own and theirs. His powers were something he had considered a curse all his life, and never once had he had any cause to be grateful for them, even now. But he had decided to not let his power and the fear it brought hinder him, at least not in regards to Tsuzuki. His partner was an affectionate person who reached out to people unconsciously.
Hisoka knew his partner would never have crossed that line, and at some point, he had made the decision to do so himself. It started as almost an accident, with Hisoka reaching for something after Tsuzuki had already picked it up. That first time had been a simple grazing of his fingertips over the back of Tsuzuki's hand. The contact had lasted less than a second, but afterwards, the thought of it would not leave Hisoka.
It was one thing for a touch to occur in an unguarded moment, and another to purposely consider instigating contact. Yet considering it was what Hisoka had done for the long minutes and hours since that first brush, and finally, he could do nothing but accept that he wanted to touch Tsuzuki again.
Where to touch, became the next question, followed by when, and how. A deliberate touch to Tsuzuki's face? It seemed too intimate. Another brush of Hisoka's hand against Tsuzuki's? Possibly, though he would have to find a way to prolong the contact beyond that accidental second.
He turned, that thought in mind, only to find himself irrevocably in Tsuzuki's personal space. After only a moment's hesitation, his right hand drifted up, fluttered against Tsuzuki's shoulder, and then settled there. Tsuzuki's eyes widened, darkened, and then narrowed on Hisoka's face. Panic swelled in Hisoka, making his stomach churn and his chest burn. He realized the danger, suddenly, of Tsuzuki, as he felt himself drowning so far out of his natural depths there was no recognizable shore in sight.
Later, he was not surprised he fled at that moment, nor was he shocked that Tsuzuki did not follow. Tsuzuki knew better than Hisoka, it seemed, and Hisoka was only glad one of them had the sense to stick to their boundaries.
* * *
It was impossible to cook together without speaking, at least that was the message Hisoka gleaned from the absolute chaos they made of the kitchen the next day. Everything turned out charred black, and Hisoka couldn't even raise his spirits enough to be disappointed.
Tsuzuki, too, was quiet, in a state that Hisoka considered 'withdrawn' for him. There was a minimum of three feet between them at all times, until after they'd taken the smoking main course from the oven and stood staring at it together. Only then had Tsuzuki dared to bridge the distance between them. He grasped Hisoka's hand for one heartbeat, two, three, gave it a squeeze and then released it. The entire time his hand was in Tsuzuki's grip, Hisoka felt warmth flooding him. At first he thought it embarrassment, but when the warmth, comfortably settled in his chest, continued unabated for hours afterwards, he had to acknowledge it as something else.
* * *
They had both now made a progressive step, and Hisoka knew there was no going back, but forward seemed such an unclear and murky place to be heading. The line between them had been erased by Hisoka's gesture and Tsuzuki's reciprocation. In its absence was a palpable tension, a thickening of the air until it was so dense Hisoka was reminded once more of suffocation.
The physical distance returned, both of them wary of the other in this new atmosphere. Hisoka felt it must be his turn to reach out, and from the hopeful gazes he caught from Tsuzuki, the older Shinigami was waiting for him to do so.
What had been simply hard to begin with had become massively difficult in a short time. Hisoka found the waiting and distance sinking under his skin, until the very concept of touching Tsuzuki seemed impossible. The way they danced around each other bordered on pathetic and Hisoka had moments when he bordered on an anger so fierce it threatened to consume him much the way his fear of touching had consumed him before.
The situation reached critical one afternoon after their hesitation to touch had resulted in a broken plate. Tsuzuki beat Hisoka to cleaning it up, and finding himself unable to stay in the same room with his partner any longer, Hisoka had left the kitchen for the living room and sunk tiredly into one of the armchairs. He sat with his head back, hands along the arms of the chair, his eyes closed, until he felt Tsuzuki's presence nearby.
When he opened his eyes, Tsuzuki was squatting in front of his chair, violet eyes focused on Hisoka's face
There was a frantic, panicked fluttering in his chest. Tsuzuki was too close, too quickly, or so that frightened part of him was insisting. But some other instinct kept him from fleeing the intensity of Tsuzuki's gaze and the unsettled feeling his proximity built in Hisoka.
"Hisoka?" There was a definite question in Tsuzuki's voice this time, instead of the general inquiry into his state. Tsuzuki was looking at him again with that quiet understanding in his eyes, the gentle patience that made Hisoka want to trust him. It was that look which had spurred Hisoka's yearning for something more, along with his belief that that 'something' would not ruin what they already had.
That desire had always terrified him, because as much as Tsuzuki continued to mystify him, he knew his trust would be well placed. Tsuzuki would accept his trust, and, heaven help him, his desire, as easily as Tsuzuki had accepted him. He would find the acceptance in Tsuzuki he had never found elsewhere.
Whatever the answer Tsuzuki was searching for, he seemed to read a sort of response from Hisoka's face; he drew back, a small smile on his lips. Before Hisoka could object to the distance he could see and feel growing between them once more, Tsuzuki had left his space completely and stood up. "I'll make dinner," Tsuzuki said. He turned and headed back to the kitchen.
It hurt. Hisoka pressed the palm of his hand to his chest, surprised by the sudden ache there. The feeling was both stronger and worse than when Tsuzuki just pulled away physically. In the back of his mind, he'd always been connected to Tsuzuki, but now there was a block there, as if Tsuzuki was drawing away from his power as well as his presence.
"Tsuzuki!" Hisoka called, half-rising from the chair. A rising desperation was replacing the panic, and he knew as frightened as he was by what he felt, he was more afraid of losing that feeling than he was of it.
Immediately, his partner had turned. And Tsuzuki, the first person who had learned to understand him the way Hisoka understood others, seemed to read all of Hisoka's emotions on his face. Between one blink and the next, Tsuzuki had crossed the distance between them until he was once more in front of Hisoka's chair, this time kneeling, the sudden contact of his body against Hisoka's forcing the younger man back down into the chair.
Tsuzuki's hands touched Hisoka's shoulders long enough to pull him slightly forward, before Tsuzuki was pulling him into a hug, his arms tight along Hisoka's back. Hisoka found himself awash in his partner's emotions, but where once there had been painful anger to shy away from, Hisoka found only a glowing, loving warmth that seemed to fill all the aches and holes left by his previous life.
Hisoka curled his hand in Tsuzuki's hair and held on tight, counting on Tsuzuki to understand what it was Hisoka needed, trusting Tsuzuki to provide it.
Title: Life Lessons
Fandom: Yami no Matsui
Words: 2913 (as per NoteTab)
Warnings: Tsuzuki/Hisoka angsty fluff. Fluffy angst? PWP-withoutSmut, TWT. And no, I haven't a clue whose kitchen it is. (Largely, but not completely, unbeta-ed. Some people just can't wait :D)
Disclaimer: I do not own YnM or the characters, or the plot. I'm simply playing without profit (that's a new PWP for ya.)
Note: Written for Isis's birthday. I still have an hour and a half, but I'm not expected to get the other one to work for me. :D Happy birthday, Lovely. ETA: I've been told that when I went for subtlety, I might have over-reached just a tad. But I -like- it.
Summary: It's less about the cooking.
Tsuzuki was humming again. Hisoka knew the sound well, having been exposed to it for the previous seven days. The young Shinigami stopped at the threshhold that separated the hallway and the kitchen, and stared at the door. He well knew what he would find on the other side, and the idea was unpleasant in many regards. Tsuzuki wearing the pink-and-purple patterned apron, used pans and pots scattered across each and every surface dripping their contents onto the floor, and some vile concoction made from indeterminate ingredients.
Given a choice, and still alive, Hisoka would have starved to death before trying anything Tsuzuki had cooked. However, he could not refuse Tsuzuki's wide-eyed entreaties, not after the first and last time he'd rejected a meal made by his partner. Far worse than the hurt in Tsuzuki's voice had been the understanding smile that did nothing to hide his disappointment.
It would take a stronger Shinigami than Hisoka to stand against Tsuzuki's eagerness. Especially when the alternative was so much easier, both to do and to live with. For that reason, Hisoka managed every day to swallow down a couple bites of the waste that would put a starving man off food and still spit out the bald-faced lie of, "You're improving."
Unfortunately, each meal seemed worse than the one before, and Hisoka was afraid he was reaching the limit of the torture he would stand for his partner. He found it impossible to understand how a man so in love with food could cook such horrid things, and he only knew, as he finally pushed open the door, that something had to change.
* * *
Day nine and Hisoka knew it was over. His stomach would not accept another bite of anything Tsuzuki cooked, and if he wished to refrain from hurting Tsuzuki's feelings, he was going to have to quickly come up with some alternative, something, anything, to keep Tsuzuki from the kitchen. Even if that meant learning to cook himself.
The first step was getting to the kitchen before Tsuzuki. An easy feat, since all it required was a well-worded statement about Tatsumi wishing to speak with him. He'd heard nothing as such specifically from their boss, but he knew Tatsumi would not bypass an opportunity to discuss the latest budget with Tsuzuki.
Second step was securing the apron, a recipe, and the proper ingredients. It was the second that proved most difficult, since it seemed part of Tsuzuki's lack of cooking ability stemmed from lack of instruction. There was not a cookbook to be found anywhere in the vicinity, and Hisoka had to fall back on his memory of simple meals and the parts that made them whole.
By the time Tsuzuki, slightly subdued, walked through the door, dinner was almost done. The counter was clean, the apron had no more spots on it than it had had before, and Hisoka was given the very best reward he could have asked for: a surprised, happy smile from Tsuzuki.
"You're cooking?" the older Shinigami asked, stepping further into the room. The answer was obvious, but Hisoka just nodded, his eyes taking note of how the tired lines around Tsuzuki's eyes were rapidly disappearing under the power of his apparent happiness. The meeting with Tatsumi must have been worse than Hisoka predicted, and he only just managed to squash his feeling of guilt by reminding himself that the tiredness Tsuzuki was feeling was in no way greater than the hurt Hisoka would have caused by telling Tsuzuki exactly how bad his cooking was.
Hisoka's chest tightened infinitesimally at the look on Tsuzuki's face. The silent question of "For me?" was in Tsuzuki's eyes, and when the light of reverence began to dim, Hisoka expected to see Tsuzuki's exuberant, puppy-ish expression of eager delight. Instead, he blinked, taken aback by the softened expression and tender gaze Tsuzuki was bestowing on him. It made his partner seem more beautiful than ever, and Hisoka found himself awed by the realization that he'd put that look there. In his chest, there was another tightening, like a string pulled tight and threatening to break.
He turned back to the stove, afraid as always of the feelings Tsuzuki created in him. For a long moment, Tsuzuki continued to be a warm presence behind him, and then he was moving, Hisoka's senses telling him his partner was heading across to the other side of the room. "I'll set the table, Hisoka," and Tsuzuki's voice was soft and low, filled with understanding instead of hurt.
* * *
Something was wrong. Very wrong. Hisoka knew exactly what ingredients he had put into the pot, and none of them had been that shade of orange. It still smelled like it was supposed to, but he wasn't quite willing to trust scent alone. Tsuzuki's cooking at taught him that.
Six days into his usurpation of Tsuzuki's kitchen, and Hisoka was learning to deal with the failures as well as the successes. If he were to use Tsuzuki to judge his cooking talents, Hisoka would have thought himself a veritable chef. As it was, of the previous two meals, only one had been better than if it had been made by his partner; without his previous reasons of eating to save Tsuzuki's feelings, he'd found himself unable to eat more than a single bite, something he knew Tsuzuki was completely aware of even if he hadn't yet said anything.
Hisoka had not yet purchased a cookbook. He'd been kept busy during the days with research and practicing with the shikigami. So far, it hadn't seemed to matter, as Tsuzuki wasn't put off by the previous night's disaster, if his current anticipation was any indication. He continued to hover over Hisoka's shoulder as Hisoka debated whether to add anything more.
There might have been a reason other than inability that had made cooking so complicated for Hisoka. Once he'd realized Hisoka planned on occupying the kitchen, Tsuzuki had apparently decided to encourage at close-quarters. He appeared in the kitchen shortly after Hisoka, a smaller version of his pleased expression in place. Hisoka generally had him round up ingredients while he started cooking, and Tsuzuki seemed happy to help without offering suggestions. It was companionable, and after the mess that was their training sessions, Hisoka was glad to be able put that other kind of failure aside, at least for the time being.
Tsuzuki was easy company, never straying into uncomfortable territory, careful of the invisible boundaries of communication as he was of Hisoka's physical boundaries. He was very cautious to stay on the correct side of the lines Hisoka had drawn, and for that Hisoka was both grateful and, something he had so far admitted only to himself, a little disappointed. He consoled himself with the reminder that Tsuzuki's respect for him was strong enough to preserve those awkward demarcation lines, even though Hisoka sometimes caught Tsuzuki withdrawing an extended hand or forcibly stopping himself from invading the space around Hisoka.
In fact, on days that have gone better than bad, Hisoka finds himself thinking of Tsuzuki as sweet, with the contradictory way he seems to want to gravitate in Hisoka's direction and the steps he takes to ensure he maintains the distance Hisoka had initially demanded.
It had been a better day than most, and when Hisoka caught Tsuzuki a little closer than normal, though his nearness could be attributed to either Hisoka or the cooking food, Hisoka found himself responding subconsciously to his partner. He relaxed his posture, feeling the muscles along his shoulders relax, and then he turned slightly, opening up his position to the stove so that he was angled to Tsuzuki. It was an invitation of sorts, one he himself didn't recognize immediately, though Tsuzuki seemed to catch on much faster. His partner sidled a little closer, leaning forward over the stove for an exaggerated sniff before settling back into a position that more than halved the distance there had been between them, quiet acceptance of a silent invitation.
* * *
Hisoka was content with his three-to-one success-failure rate. Not everything he cooked had turned out exactly as he'd wanted, but only three times in the last twelve days had he scraped the entirety of his dinner off the plate at the end of the meal. Tsuzuki didn't seem to notice any difference between Hisoka's successes or his failures, partaking of all the meals with the same excited enjoyment.
"Ah, Hisoka, it smells good." Collaborative cooking was something new, but they had progressed from Tsuzuki searching out ingredients to taking a more active part in selection and creation. Cooking together yielded fewer disturbing concoctions than Tsuzuki alone, and Hisoka found he enjoyed it, even the mini-battles over the appropriateness of adding cayenne pepper to everything. By the cup.
"Yes," Hisoka agreed. Texture, color, and scent were what he would have expected. It was a satisfying end to a long week, to be able to cook and eat a decent meal with Tsuzuki. Better yet was Tsuzuki's blatant appreciation of the same with Hisoka. More and more in the past few days, Hisoka had come to realize his effect on his partner; the smile his company brought to Tsuzuki's mouth, the happiness he generated with his even more recent step in their relationship: a light touch.
So far, that progression had caused him the most anxiety. It had seemed such a foreign and terrible thing at the beginning, to think of willingly reaching out and coming into contact with someone else, with all the mess of emotions that brought with it, both his own and theirs. His powers were something he had considered a curse all his life, and never once had he had any cause to be grateful for them, even now. But he had decided to not let his power and the fear it brought hinder him, at least not in regards to Tsuzuki. His partner was an affectionate person who reached out to people unconsciously.
Hisoka knew his partner would never have crossed that line, and at some point, he had made the decision to do so himself. It started as almost an accident, with Hisoka reaching for something after Tsuzuki had already picked it up. That first time had been a simple grazing of his fingertips over the back of Tsuzuki's hand. The contact had lasted less than a second, but afterwards, the thought of it would not leave Hisoka.
It was one thing for a touch to occur in an unguarded moment, and another to purposely consider instigating contact. Yet considering it was what Hisoka had done for the long minutes and hours since that first brush, and finally, he could do nothing but accept that he wanted to touch Tsuzuki again.
Where to touch, became the next question, followed by when, and how. A deliberate touch to Tsuzuki's face? It seemed too intimate. Another brush of Hisoka's hand against Tsuzuki's? Possibly, though he would have to find a way to prolong the contact beyond that accidental second.
He turned, that thought in mind, only to find himself irrevocably in Tsuzuki's personal space. After only a moment's hesitation, his right hand drifted up, fluttered against Tsuzuki's shoulder, and then settled there. Tsuzuki's eyes widened, darkened, and then narrowed on Hisoka's face. Panic swelled in Hisoka, making his stomach churn and his chest burn. He realized the danger, suddenly, of Tsuzuki, as he felt himself drowning so far out of his natural depths there was no recognizable shore in sight.
Later, he was not surprised he fled at that moment, nor was he shocked that Tsuzuki did not follow. Tsuzuki knew better than Hisoka, it seemed, and Hisoka was only glad one of them had the sense to stick to their boundaries.
* * *
It was impossible to cook together without speaking, at least that was the message Hisoka gleaned from the absolute chaos they made of the kitchen the next day. Everything turned out charred black, and Hisoka couldn't even raise his spirits enough to be disappointed.
Tsuzuki, too, was quiet, in a state that Hisoka considered 'withdrawn' for him. There was a minimum of three feet between them at all times, until after they'd taken the smoking main course from the oven and stood staring at it together. Only then had Tsuzuki dared to bridge the distance between them. He grasped Hisoka's hand for one heartbeat, two, three, gave it a squeeze and then released it. The entire time his hand was in Tsuzuki's grip, Hisoka felt warmth flooding him. At first he thought it embarrassment, but when the warmth, comfortably settled in his chest, continued unabated for hours afterwards, he had to acknowledge it as something else.
* * *
They had both now made a progressive step, and Hisoka knew there was no going back, but forward seemed such an unclear and murky place to be heading. The line between them had been erased by Hisoka's gesture and Tsuzuki's reciprocation. In its absence was a palpable tension, a thickening of the air until it was so dense Hisoka was reminded once more of suffocation.
The physical distance returned, both of them wary of the other in this new atmosphere. Hisoka felt it must be his turn to reach out, and from the hopeful gazes he caught from Tsuzuki, the older Shinigami was waiting for him to do so.
What had been simply hard to begin with had become massively difficult in a short time. Hisoka found the waiting and distance sinking under his skin, until the very concept of touching Tsuzuki seemed impossible. The way they danced around each other bordered on pathetic and Hisoka had moments when he bordered on an anger so fierce it threatened to consume him much the way his fear of touching had consumed him before.
The situation reached critical one afternoon after their hesitation to touch had resulted in a broken plate. Tsuzuki beat Hisoka to cleaning it up, and finding himself unable to stay in the same room with his partner any longer, Hisoka had left the kitchen for the living room and sunk tiredly into one of the armchairs. He sat with his head back, hands along the arms of the chair, his eyes closed, until he felt Tsuzuki's presence nearby.
When he opened his eyes, Tsuzuki was squatting in front of his chair, violet eyes focused on Hisoka's face
There was a frantic, panicked fluttering in his chest. Tsuzuki was too close, too quickly, or so that frightened part of him was insisting. But some other instinct kept him from fleeing the intensity of Tsuzuki's gaze and the unsettled feeling his proximity built in Hisoka.
"Hisoka?" There was a definite question in Tsuzuki's voice this time, instead of the general inquiry into his state. Tsuzuki was looking at him again with that quiet understanding in his eyes, the gentle patience that made Hisoka want to trust him. It was that look which had spurred Hisoka's yearning for something more, along with his belief that that 'something' would not ruin what they already had.
That desire had always terrified him, because as much as Tsuzuki continued to mystify him, he knew his trust would be well placed. Tsuzuki would accept his trust, and, heaven help him, his desire, as easily as Tsuzuki had accepted him. He would find the acceptance in Tsuzuki he had never found elsewhere.
Whatever the answer Tsuzuki was searching for, he seemed to read a sort of response from Hisoka's face; he drew back, a small smile on his lips. Before Hisoka could object to the distance he could see and feel growing between them once more, Tsuzuki had left his space completely and stood up. "I'll make dinner," Tsuzuki said. He turned and headed back to the kitchen.
It hurt. Hisoka pressed the palm of his hand to his chest, surprised by the sudden ache there. The feeling was both stronger and worse than when Tsuzuki just pulled away physically. In the back of his mind, he'd always been connected to Tsuzuki, but now there was a block there, as if Tsuzuki was drawing away from his power as well as his presence.
"Tsuzuki!" Hisoka called, half-rising from the chair. A rising desperation was replacing the panic, and he knew as frightened as he was by what he felt, he was more afraid of losing that feeling than he was of it.
Immediately, his partner had turned. And Tsuzuki, the first person who had learned to understand him the way Hisoka understood others, seemed to read all of Hisoka's emotions on his face. Between one blink and the next, Tsuzuki had crossed the distance between them until he was once more in front of Hisoka's chair, this time kneeling, the sudden contact of his body against Hisoka's forcing the younger man back down into the chair.
Tsuzuki's hands touched Hisoka's shoulders long enough to pull him slightly forward, before Tsuzuki was pulling him into a hug, his arms tight along Hisoka's back. Hisoka found himself awash in his partner's emotions, but where once there had been painful anger to shy away from, Hisoka found only a glowing, loving warmth that seemed to fill all the aches and holes left by his previous life.
Hisoka curled his hand in Tsuzuki's hair and held on tight, counting on Tsuzuki to understand what it was Hisoka needed, trusting Tsuzuki to provide it.
