Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction / Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Monozuki ❯ Takashi and Stephanotis ( Chapter 8 )

Monozuki - An Idle Curiosity

A Weiss Kreuz/Yami no Matsuei crossover.

 

By Kelly

 

Monozuki 8 - Takashi and Stephanotis

 

*******

 

Kyo slept like the dead.

 

Limbs arranged just so, his boy would lie in whatever pose sleep had claimed him in, though the trim body would usually be attached to his side or in the infrequent occurrence that Takashi had to wake before him, curled up into a protective little ball, safe from the world. Kyo would barely move throughout the night, making concessions only for Takashi's own, more restless sleeping. But today, with the sun a dim reminder behind closed drapes, with just the faintest hint of cherry blossoms in the air, Kyo slept on his front, arms tucked underneath his pillow, the sheet only covering up to the small hollow of his back with the bed a blank canvas for his naked body.

 

Propped on one elbow, a small smile curving his lips, Takashi indulged in a habit he seldom had the chance to; enjoying the sight of his love unhindered by work, people or lust overriding his senses.

 

There was a certain joy, quiet and unassuming, in being able to just watch. Watch, and drink in that pale skin that could never tan, no matter how many hours Kyo spent on the football field when he was mortal and more so now, in the frozen existence of a Shinigami. That very same, creamy soft skin clothed a body forever encased in youth - slender and supple with wiry muscles, muscles that would never blossom into bulk, even if Kyo had the build for it. No, his Kyo was all long, clean and spare lines. A beauty that was almost feminine but utterly male.

 

His free hand coasted gently over Kyo's bared back, his palm and fingertips keeping just the lightest contact, following the contours of smooth deltoids, unashamedly delighting in that sweet, long, hollow that his trained, analytical mind, honed through years of medicine, helpfully supplied as the trapezius. The other parts of Takashi didn't give a damn what Latin name a muscle had. The other parts of Takashi were more concerned with facts like how Kyo would squirm most enjoyably should he run his tongue down the curve of his boy's spine, how his boy would beg for more, to don't stop when he would wickedly pause to lap and swirl languorous circles in that small dip just before the buttocks. And oh, how he loved sheathing his hard, throbbing, dripping wet cock into his boy, pushing past the tight ring of muscles, demanding the body beneath him to remember that Kyo was his then.

 

Takashi murmured a soft admonishment; directed to himself. His own body had responded well to his lazily drifting thoughts, was making its demand known, the penis nested in darker, auburn curls stiffening, rising eagerly.

 

The former sensei pondered the delectable idea of making slow, sleepy love; an entirely pleasurable way to greet a new day. But when his eyes strayed back up to Kyo's face, peaceful in the grip of a deep sleep, he couldn't bring himself to, no matter how much his body wanted it.

 

And the thought of why it was so important that Kyo got uninterrupted rest effectively wilted his beginning arousal.

 

The older Shinigami sighed, lowering himself back down on his side, covering the slumbering body with his own and tugging the sheet up to better cover them. He wouldn't want Kyo to catch a cold, all exposed and naked (no matter what a beautiful sight it was). Reality corralled his again-wandering thoughts when Kyo stiffened in his arms, still deeply asleep yet that unlined face was screwing up in distress. A low moan escaped full lips, with no trace of desire present. Takashi could see the twitching behind closed eyelids - he winced. Kyo was dreaming again.

 

“Shh, love,” he crooned, wrapping himself around the trembling body, cupping the back of Kyo's head reassuringly, the soft-silk black hair sliding between his fingers. He placed gentle kisses, meant to comfort, on the boy's wrinkled brow, his eyelids, his cheeks, the tip of his nose and the corner of his mouth. “It's just a dream, baby. Just a dream. Come back to me, koibito. Don't let the dream get you.”

 

It took an uncomfortably long time before Kyo surrendered to his gentle, constant pleading as he kissed the frowns away. A small sigh, the slight curve of a corner of his mouth, and Kyo was again lost in a sleep blessedly free of nightmares. This was getting worse, that clinical part of Takashi's mind noted.

 

`This' was what he and Kyo referred to as one of those days. Days when Kyo succumbed, letting that disturbing light fill his eyes, letting his mind take strange turns and twists that it was not meant to. On those days, Takashi could only watch as Kyo lose his grip on reality, his sanity like yesterday's dream and a forgotten memory. On those days, Takashi could only hope that what he did was enough, that Kyo would come back to him like he was before. The former sensei refused to contemplate the possibility of Kyo never coming back in the future because he would not let it happen.

 

And perhaps, the gods could breathe a sigh of relief that Takashi and Kyo never wondered as to why Kyo had those days.

 

Because a Death Seal was a marvelous thing - the mind would not remember what it was forbidden to.

 

But such a tricky matter, the human mind. It wasn't a simple object that a dash of super glue could fix should it crack. The human mind is not such an uncomplicated machine that just by covering a part of it with black cloth, it would forget what existed underneath.

 

So even though Takashi and Kyo could not remember, they knew that those days were not good. And Takashi knew, instinctively, without being aware of it, that he must pull Kyo back from the edge of the chasm, again and again. Because if he didn't, he would lose his boy forever and not even Enma could grant them another chance.

 

But Takashi's specialty was in treating the physical body. How could he hope to save Kyo from a fall none but the boy himself could see?

 

********

 

A knock on the door made Takashi pause. Glancing at the clock, he affirmed that it was indeed, just about eight a.m. Who, in Enma's name, would be coming around at this time, and on a Sunday, no less? He set his mug of coffee on the counter, absently wiping away a stray droplet with the dishtowel.

 

Whomever it was at the door was persistent. The pounding continued, slightly louder than courtesy dictated and it made the former sensei frown. He really didn't appreciate the interruption to what had promised to be an idyllic morning, not when he and Kyo both had the day off.

 

“I'm coming, dammit,” Takashi muttered. Feet clad in fluffy, pink, MashiMaro house slippers (Kyo thought theylooked cute - he humored the boy, damn love and the sacrifices it demanded), Takashi wrenched the door open before the next blow could wake Kyo up.

 

“What the he—Tatsumi?” He blinked, bemused. “Tatsumi-san, what are you doing here? Don't tell me there's an emergency shift today.”

 

The very same man; dark brown suit, glasses and all, stood on their doorstep, fist ready to deliver another blow. Tatsumi brought his hand down, only to push his glasses up, a very familiar gesture. “Takashi-san,” the secretary smiled, though the expression was rather stiff and completely ignoring his question. “I'm sorry to intrude on your weekend, but if I could have a word?”

 

Takashi frowned - he caught sight of the brown folder the secretary held under one arm. Whatever it was that had prompted the Kagetsukai to come, without invitation, to a friend's home at eight in the morning on a Sunday would not be good. But nevertheless. He relaxed into a smile. No use fretting over something he wasn't sure of yet. “No harm done,” he said easily. Stepping back, he gestured Tatsumi in, ensured that their guest received the dark blue house slippers and when he had the man seated comfortably on the couch, he made them both fresh mugs of coffee.

 

Tatsumi got a straight black, no sugar. Years of friendship, and some discreet study had Takashi familiar with most of the Shokan secretary's habit. Only Watari, the lucky, lucky man who held Tatsumi's heart in his hands, would know everything there was to know about Tatsumi Seiichiro. He was merely a Shinigami who happened to harbor the worst crush on the Kagetsukai, damn the man and his unflappable bearing that oozed sex.

 

Even reminding Kyo of his own infatuation with a certain blond scientist wouldn't keep his koi from mercilessly teasing him about his crush.

 

Both men took a polite sip first, letting each other settle in and perhaps, prepare themselves. Takashi eyed Tatsumi over the rim of his mug - there was a decidedly grim light in the man's shadowed blue eyes, a certain iciness that discomfited Takashi because he realized, with a start, that it was directed at him.

 

He set the coffee down abruptly, yet silently. Leaning forwards, elbows on his knees, Takashi folded his hands before his face, hiding his mouth. “Tatsumi-san. . .?”

 

Tatsumi likewise set his own drink down. Folder laid precisely in the center of the low table between them, the secretary mirrored his pose, fingers laced together as the Kagetsukai upped the intensity of his stare.

 

“You disappoint me, Takashi-san.”

 

The censure was unexpected, and it shocked Takashi. He froze, not daring to move for fear of inciting the shadow master's temper. Slowly, as though he was facing a dangerous animal, Takashi leaned back, hands deceptively still in his lap. “And how,” he began carefully, “did I disappoint you?”

 

Something flashed in those blue eyes. “By disobeying orders. By flagrantly disobeying orders!” Tatsumi slapped an open palm on the folder, the sound ringing through the apartment. “I have warned everyone that the Tokyo case is officially closed and no further investigation is needed! Instead, I turn around to find almost every Shinigami in the Shokan deliberately going against my order! In my cho! Kyo is understandable, but I had a better opinion of you, Takashi-san!”

 

Anger made Takashi jump to his feet, calm composure lost in the face of Tatsumi's bald accusation. “What the hell are you talking about?!” he demanded. Furious, he didn't hear the bedroom door open softly. “Kyo and I didn't go anywhere near them save the time you brought Kyo back from that flower shop!”

 

“I'm talking about last night,” Tatsumi answered, ice in his tone. The fact that Takashi was currently towering over him didn't even give him pause. “Are you still going to deny it?”

 

“Last night?” Takashi's confusion was genuine. “Kyo and I went clubbing last night, Tatsumi-san. You know that when Kyo's not feeling well he needs to be distracted and distract him I did.” He threw himself back down in the armchair, armsfolded across his chest. He shot Tatsumi a scowl. “I really don't see how our going clubbing had anything to do with the Tokyo case.”

 

In answer, Tatsumi flipped the folder open before turning it around and sliding it across the table. Even though it was grainy and not very clear, obviously a surveillance shot, Takashi recognized the photograph clipped to what he knew was standard background report. The long, wavy blond hair was familiar. Though the eyes were hidden by dark shades, there was no mistaking that smirk and those lips - thin, yet wonderfully pliable. He had kissed themafter all.

 

“He was Weiss,” Takashi said it out loud.

 

A moment of silence before realization dawned on Tatsumi's face. “And you didn't know.” It wasn't a question on Tatsumi's part. A sigh, and then, “I apologize, Takashi-san.”

 

The regret in Tatsumi's voice and in his face was genuine but all Takashi could think about was the blond man who hadtasted like cigarettes and alcohol, a blond man he would have loved to touch, to fuck, and all Takashi could think about was the fact that it was Kyo who had insisted they went to that club last night, a club they had heard of but never been to.

 

He turned around, slowly, bright fury roaring in his ears as his fists clenched by his side. Kyo stood before the open door to their bedroom but even the sight of his husband in low-slung jeans and a small white tee could not muffle the pounding in his head. His entire vision was taken up by the abnormally pale face and the thinned lips. Kyo's eyes, usually so expressive, were shrouded with darkness.

 

Face tightening in anger, Takashi hissed, “Explain this, husband.”

 

********

 

Stephanotis: Happiness in marriage

 

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