Catch 22 (1/1)

[smokingmirror]

Title: Catch 22
Author: Avarice
Rating: PG
Pairing: Egoist
Spoilers: -
Summary: Hiroki's nice breakfast with Nowaki turns a bit sour when a co-worker shows up.
Word Count: 6663
Date First Posted: 19-09-2009
Date Revised - 21-05-2011
Beta: Eike
Awards: -
Notes: Writing Miyagi being annoying is so much fun. I utterly love the Miyagi/Hiroki dynamic.
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.
Also Archived At: LJ 1 2 | FFN

There were many things Kamijou Hiroki could do on a morning off: grade papers, continue working on his thesis, stay in bed and read.

However, Hiroki was currently doing none of the above.

He was, in fact, waiting for a certain intern at a certain café around the corner from a certain hospital.

Hiroki flipped through the menu idly, pondering what a lovely gesture it was for him to give up his only morning off to come and meet Nowaki after his shift so they could share breakfast. There was a certain level of self-sacrifice involved; one that he hoped Nowaki fully appreciated.

The waitress came up and asked him if he needed more time to decide. A quick glance to the large clock hanging on the wall above the cash register told him Nowaki would be walking through the doors any minute. Hiroki handed back the menu and ordered breakfast for the two of them.

Hiroki had chosen a booth that faced away from the door. To the casual observer it might've seemed a rather poor location, save for the highly reflective stainless steel wall a few feet away. With it, he could observe the goings -- and in particular, the comings -- of every patron without looking like he was watching the door.

It only took a few minutes before a large frame obscured the door. Even though the stainless steel tended to slightly distort and ripple everyone's reflections, there was no mistaking the large grin that appeared on Nowaki's face when his eyes found Hiroki.

Hiroki pursed his lips to fight down the automatic smile response, and coughed to alleviate the peculiar butterfly-like feeling in his stomach. By the time Nowaki slid into the seat opposite him, all manner of uncharacteristic responses were successfully curbed.

"Good morning, Hiro-san," Nowaki greeted predictably, his face the very picture of happiness.

"'Morning," Hiroki grunted back, cultivating a slightly bored expression.

"How did you sleep?" Nowaki asked as he removed the messenger bag from his shoulders.

"Not the best," he replied, surprising himself at the honesty of his answer. It was an unspoken fact between them that Hiroki rarely had a proper, uninterrupted night's sleep when Nowaki worked the graveyard shift. For his part, Nowaki acknowledged the fact with an understanding nod and the briefest of touches; his fingertips skimmed Hiroki's as he reached out to grab a little packet of chopsticks.

"What about you? Busy night?" Hiroki asked as his eyes became transfixed at Nowaki's café ritual.

Nowaki's café ritual comprised of him commandeering a packet of disposable chopsticks and removing them from their paper sleeve, breaking them apart, and rolling them between his large palms as he talked. Hiroki found the behaviour irritating, if only because he could rarely keep his eyes off Nowaki's well-shaped hands as he did so.

(Invariably, Nowaki always smiled a particular exasperating-charming smile and handed him a stick. Hiroki tended to hold onto it; warm as it was from Nowaki's physical contact. If they were eating Japanese cuisine, rather than give the stick back, he would break his own pair apart and hand Nowaki one of his. )

"Not so much," Nowaki replied, spinning the chopsticks absent-mindedly. "I observed a little boy undergo a lumbar puncture to test for meningitis."

"Sounds painful," Hiroki commented, hypnotised by the twirling bits of wood.

"It is. His parents weren't there and he was scared, so I held his hand during the procedure, and spent the rest of my time telling him stories and playing 'Snap'."

Hiroki was distracted from the chopsticks by Nowaki's words. An odd feeling of pride at Nowaki's compassion gave him pause. It wasn't as though he'd taught Nowaki that -- if anything, Hiroki suspected he lacked a number of key personality traits that comprised the fundamental basics of 'compassion' -- it was just ingrained in Nowaki's nature to be there for other people, to comfort them and make them feel better.

He didn't realise he'd begun to stare until Nowaki was staring back. Nowaki's eyes softened and white teeth just peeked out from between his lips before Hiroki could break his gaze, and Nowaki offered him a chopstick.

Hiroki reached out and took it without comment, clutching it in his fist.

Nowaki looked around to the bustling patrons to try and locate a waitress. "Shall we get some menus?"

"No need," Hiroki replied, "I've already ordered."

Nowaki's eyebrows rose. "How do you know what I want to eat?"

Hiroki shrugged. "I'm a teacher; I took an educated guess."

"We'll see if you're right." Nowaki rested his elbows on the table, chin in one hand, the other dangling with the chopstick, his eyes twinkling. Hiroki swallowed, but remained outwardly confident.

Small talk was by no means one of Hiroki's strong suits, but he managed adequately while they waited for their breakfast. Nowaki quizzed him on how his thesis and extra research was going. During his lively diatribe about how the progress of his research would go so much quicker if Miyagi didn't keep running off to entertain the Dean's son, it occurred to Hiroki that what he was saying probably wasn't that interesting to Nowaki, yet Nowaki hung on his every word.

Somewhere around the part where he related how their shared office nearly went up in flames after Miyagi dropped a cigarette butt on the paper he was grading, breakfast arrived.

Nowaki blinked thoughtfully as a plate of 3 pieces of toast with eggs (sunny-side up) and a few strips of extra crispy bacon along with a glass of orange juice was placed in front of him.

He looked up slowly to find Hiroki with French toast, a green salad, some black coffee, and a smug grin. Leaning back with an arm along the back of the booth, Hiroki tapped the chopstick against his curled lips and basked in Nowaki's surprise and admiration.

They began to eat in companionable silence, save for Hiroki's comments marveling -- albeit in a slightly-disgusted way -- as to how Nowaki could stand eating such salty, fatty food with a knife and fork, of all things.

"Have you ever tried eating a runny egg with chopsticks?" Nowaki quipped, and Hiroki glared, which was actually a cleverly concealed smile.

Nowaki was just beginning to regale him with a story about actually attempting to eat a runny egg with chopsticks for a bet when he suddenly stopped talking, eyes locked on something past Hiroki's left shoulder. Hiroki flicked his gaze to the stainless steel, where he saw a petite reflection heading towards their table.

"Kusama-san?" a female voice inquired.

Nowaki swallowed hastily and stood. "Hirano-san," he greeted, bowing at the waist. The young lady bowed back, a big smile dimpling her cheeks. Hiroki chewed slowly, his eyes looking her up and down.

"I thought you would have been well on your way home now, you were in such a rush to leave!"

"It was a long shift, and I was pretty hungry."

The young lady put a finger to her cheek in a dramatically thoughtful pose. "I thought I'd finally catch you with your mysterious girlfriend, and here I find-- oh." She turned, finally noticing Hiroki.

Hiroki bit back an acidic response. The girl -- who couldn't have been older than 24 -- looked at him silently for a few moments, then turned big doe eyes to Nowaki for an explanation.

Nowaki cleared his throat as Hiroki stood. "Hirano Tomoyo, this is Kamijou Hiroki. He is my--" Glancing back at Hiroki's sour expression and slightly narrowed eyes, Nowaki faltered. Hiroki mentally swore at the pause, thinking nothing sounded more suspicious. He had to fill it in.

"I'm Nowaki's old high school tutor," Hiroki answered smoothly with a bow, wincing slightly at his own descriptor 'old'. Nowaki looked equal parts pleased and chagrined to be helped out of his tight spot.

Tomoyo's face lit up in delight, but that delight was directed back towards Nowaki. "Oh, how great! So it's like a school reunion?"

"Something like that," Hiroki replied dryly as he sat, already forgotten.

To his abject horror, the young girl shooed Nowaki over on his seat to plant herself down next to him. "I can't imagine having breakfast with anyone who tutored me in school. We didn't have enough in common to get together after I graduated."

Hiroki stared at her coldly, a stony look on his face. How such a throwaway comment had the power to rescind months of progress and personal growth in their relationship, he'd never know.

To her credit, Tomoyo ignored the frigid reception from across the table and concentrated solely on Nowaki. She shuffled a little closer, her body facing his.

"I hear you were there for that lumbar puncture, how did it go?"

Nowaki did his best to shuffle back along the seat a little in kind. "It went well. Yuusuke's parents will be arriving later today to be with him."

Tomoyo nodded emphatically. "It was really lovely that you stayed with him so long, Kusama-san. When I left he was still talking about you."

"So, Hirano-san," Hiroki interrupted, "how do you know Nowaki?"

Finally sparing more than a glance in Hiroki's direction, Tomoyo turned in the seat to face him -- still somehow managing to bridge the gap between herself and Nowaki again -- and answered.

"I'm a nurse--," she laughed lightly, interrupting herself. "Well, an intern at least."

"Hirano-san is doing her rotation in the emergency room," Nowaki explained.

"And how long's a rotation?" Hiroki asked in a low voice, not really meaning to be heard.

Nowaki shot him a frown, but Tomoyo missed the look and answered anyway. "Three months. So far it's hard work but I'm really enjoying it." She punctuated the statement by leaning into Nowaki and touching his arm. Nowaki smiled back at her, his big, dumb, stupid, perfect smile.

The smile he'd only just been using on Hiroki to make his insides turn to jelly.

Hiroki's left eye twitched.

"What do you do, Kamijou-san?" Tomoyo asked.

Hiroki picked up his coffee cup and swirled the dark liquid gently. "I'm an assistant professor of literature at M University."

Tomoyo's eyes widened in appreciation of the information. She smiled attractively. "That sounds like a very important title."

"It's a very important position," Nowaki said firmly, even as Hiroki shrugged.

It wasn't like him to downplay his occupation, but there was something about playing a game of one-upmanship with Tomoyo that seemed rather... pathetic and desperate.

Hiroki gave Tomoyo a very scrutinising appraisal. She was slightly shorter and much smaller in stature than Hiroki. Her hair was very dark brown, reaching just past her shoulders. Dark, deep-set eyes, cute nose, dimples in both cheeks when she smiled, perfect teeth, well-shaped hands...

... Currently resting on top of Nowaki's large one.

Nowaki grimaced uncomfortably at the contact and moved his hand away, just as Hiroki decided he was not above playing a few rounds of one-upmanship.

"The professor I work with is rather famous in literary circles," Hiroki said after a large gulp of coffee. "He discovered some personal writings of the great Japanese poet Matsuo Bashou and wrote a groundbreaking paper on them. I was selected out of a number of applicants to assist him."

"He sounds like a very clever man," Tomoyo commented. Nowaki coughed, appearing to choke on a bit of bacon. Hiroki gave him a withering look.

"He is," Hiroki agreed. Despite the fact Miyagi was a complete flake in other respects. But she didn't have to know that.

"It's good to know Kusama-san keeps such good company." Tomoyo smiled winningly. She shifted closer to Nowaki again, leaning forward conspiratorially. Unfortunately for Nowaki, his larger frame didn't allow him to move any further away from Tomoyo in the small booth. "I was hoping, however, to meet the famed girlfriend who has him so enraptured."

"Oh?" Hiroki asked, proud his voice didn't betray his rising panic.

"He can't stop talking about her and smiling. 'She's so cute, she's so smart, she's so perfect,' he tells anyone who'll listen." Tomoyo waved her hands in frustration, and stole a strip of bacon off Nowaki's plate. "But when we quiz him for more information, he clams up."

"Really," Hiroki said, watching part of Nowaki's breakfast disappear in her mouth.

"Not really--" Nowaki began to answer anxiously, but he was interrupted.

"We've invited them both out for social events, but he always claims she's busy."

Nowaki met Hiroki's eyes, cheeks beginning to turn rather pink. Hiroki met his gaze without expression.

"That sounds a bit suspicious," he said.

"I'm glad you agree, Kamijou-san!" Tomoyo exclaimed, nudging Nowaki with her elbow. "If he wasn't so happy all the time, I swear this person was a figment of his imagination."

Hiroki's hands found their way to the single chopstick still sitting next to his plate. "Did he say anything more about this-- person?"

"Nothing, save that she teaches something, I think," Tomoyo mused. Widening comically, Hiroki's eyes gave away the fact he could be connected to Nowaki's 'mystery person'.

Unfortunately, Tomoyo was not as stupid as Hiroki had hoped she'd be. "Wait a minute," she said slowly, connecting a myriad of mental dots, "Kamijou-san. You teach at the university, right?"

Ice water ran through Hiroki's veins. His fingers curled around the chopstick so tightly; his nails dug crescent moons into his palm.

"Yes, but I don't see how--"

Tomoyo sat back in the seat, a very self-satisfied smile on her face. "I knew there was a reason you were meeting here."

Hiroki looked up at Nowaki, dazed and pale. Nowaki looked back with a worried, helpless expression.

"Listen, Hirano-san," Nowaki began, "the reason I met Hiro-san here is--"

"There is no use covering up for your friend," Tomoyo said, as though scolding a small child -- despite the fact that Nowaki towered over her. She leaned forward towards Hiroki, and Hiroki fought the urge to lean back.

"Kusama-san's mystery woman works with you at the University."

It took approximately eight seconds for her words to sink into Hiroki's brain. After he processed the fact he hadn't been outed in a café by one of Nowaki's co-workers, Hiroki was able muster up a wan, insincere smile.

"You've got me there," he admitted.

"I knew it!" Tomoyo crowed, clapping her hands excitedly. "You must tell me all about her! Is she pretty? What does she teach? How tall is she?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Tomoyo laughed airily. "I have to know my competition."

"Hirano-san," Nowaki interrupted abruptly, "aren't you going to miss your train?"

Tomoyo glanced at her watch. "You're right." She sighed and stood, to Nowaki's subtle, exhaled relief. "I have to run. It was a pleasure to meet you, Kamijou-san."

Hiroki nodded as Tomoyo bowed politely to him. Nowaki stood to bid her farewell properly. With some effort, Hiroki stayed silent during the farewells, choosing only to stare at his French toast.

When Tomoyo was finally gone, Nowaki sat down, watching Hiroki pensively.

"Hiro-san," he ventured, "your breakfast is getting cold."

"I've lost my appetite," Hiroki stated, meeting Nowaki's eyes as he pushed his plate away.

It seemed Hiroki had just enough self-control to resist an angry outburst in the middle of the café.

Resist at least, until they got outside.

"Just what," he began in a low voice, "the hell was going on in there?"

Nowaki shrugged helplessly, large palms facing skyward. "I'm not sure. I don't work with Hirano-san very much and I didn't know she liked me--"

"We'll address that little revelation in a minute, believe me," Hiroki interrupted, "but first, what is going on with you talking all about--" he looked around guiltily, not wishing to draw too much attention to himself, "--your 'girlfriend' so much?"

"I-- people ask me about, er, my girlfriend, and I tell them a bit about you-- her." Nowaki stumbled over the phrases clumsily.

"There is such a thing as 'too much information', Nowaki," Hiroki said acidly. "You mentioned teaching. Did you see how quickly she came to the conclusion about working at the University? I thought I was going to pass out. Not to mention--" Hiroki held his hand up, silencing Nowaki who'd opened his mouth to interject. "--the way she was nearly sitting on your lap. And touching your arm. And hand."

"Hiro-san, I--"

"I swear if I hadn't been there I think she might've tried to mount you. And another thing; I didn't see you protest or try and pull away too much." Hiroki was silently mortified at how his strong, accusing tone ended up sounding bitter and pathetic even to his own ears.

"But--"

"And," Hiroki intoned as though he were a prosecutor delivering damning evidence, "you let her take some of your breakfast."

Nowaki's cheeks flushed a dull, ugly red. "What did you want me to do; grab it out of her mouth?"

"Well it would have been better than letting her maul you in front of me. Seriously, what kind of person just sits down without an invitation and eats off your plate?"

"Hirano-san grew up in America, she's... not your average Japanese woman."

"Obviously," Hiroki scoffed.

Nowaki frowned. "It's not as though I could tell her you're my--" He stopped when he received a stricken and outraged look from Hiroki and sighed.

There was a moment where Hiroki felt Nowaki's eyes boring into his skull. Hiroki, however, couldn't meet his eyes; all he could do was stare at the reflection of Nowaki's hands in the glass window next to them.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki began, "why can't I--"

"You know why," Hiroki interrupted bluntly. Nowaki fell silent, eyes sliding to the floor.

Hiroki glanced at his watch. "I have to go." With barely a glance at Nowaki, he abruptly turned, briefcase in hand. "I'll see you when I get home," he added, almost as an afterthought, and walked towards the train station.

His legs moved rhythmically, automatically, each step carrying him closer and closer to his destination. When he got to the end of the block, Hiroki turned and glanced back to the café, but Nowaki was gone.

***

Work was agonising torture.

After three classes, in which Hiroki stooped to feats of dastardly mercilessness that would have his students cowering under their desks for weeks, his bad mood still hadn't ebbed.

Grading papers for the afternoon in his shared office held little comfort. His left leg jiggled restlessly under his desk, pen tapping an annoying staccato rhythm on the piles of term papers in front of him. Even the books surrounding him like a miniature mountain range (and separating him from Professor Miyagi) held little comfort; they loomed, threatening to fall and bury him in his self-imposed misery.

He heard the wheels of Miyagi's chair roll, but ignored it until the man himself leaned back far enough in his chair to be seen around the books.

"Kamijou..." he drawled, cigarette bobbing between his lips, "is there something you want to talk about?"

Hiroki sighed exasperatedly. "I'm very busy, Professor."

"So am I," he countered, "but I can't seem to get any work done with that--" he pointed to Hiroki's jiggling leg, "and that--" he pointed to Hiroki's pen, "making annoying noises."

"Want to talk annoying noises, do you?" Hiroki swiveled on his chair viciously to face Miyagi. "Ever heard of putting your phone on 'silent', or 'vibrate' while at work? Hearing the Doraemon theme song every time you get a text message isn't exactly a pleasant experience."

Miyagi paused for a long moment; mouth ajar enough to make his cigarette dangle rather precariously. "Do you need a hug?" he asked.

"No," Hiroki answered vehemently. The angry outburst temporarily exhausted him and his shoulders slumped. Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, Hiroki didn't see Miyagi approach his desk to lean against it, arms and ankles crossed casually.

"Something happen at breakfast this morning?"

"How did you know about breakfast?" Hiroki's reply was muffled.

"You told me about it yesterday."

"No I didn't."

"Okay," Miyagi conceded, "I read it on your day planner. But--" he continued before Hiroki could muster up too much outrage, "that's the source of the problem, right?"

Hiroki's silence apparently spoke volumes.

"So what happened? Did he not show up? No, that's not Doctor Love's style..." Miyagi looked thoughtful, before snapping his fingers. "Ah, he did show up, but he chewed with his mouth open and you were so disgusted you couldn't finish your breakfast."

Hiroki rolled his eyes. "That's what you came up with?"

Miyagi shrugged. "I get cranky when I'm hungry."

The man had a point, even if it was somewhat bizarre. "As it happens, I didn't finish breakfast. But not for the reason you think."

When he didn't elaborate any further, Miyagi prompted him. "So what did happen, then?"

Hiroki stayed silent for a long moment, staring at their office door. He willed a student to come in, or the Dean's sullen-looking son who always distracted the Professor to enter. (He was undoubtedly the cause of Hiroki's overdose of the Doraemon theme song ) .

No one entered to distract either of them, and Miyagi wasn't budging, so Hiroki had no choice but to face his problems.

"We were having breakfast when--"

"Wait," Miyagi interjected, "set the scene. Where were you having breakfast?"

"At a café around the corner from the hospital," Hiroki answered with a glare, irritated at being interrupted. "Anyway ... some nurse he knows--"

"What did you order?"

"Do you want me to tell you or not?" Hiroki hissed.

"Fine, fine," Miyagi shrugged. "Just thought it would add perspective."

Hiroki cleared his throat and gave Miyagi a lingering glare, daring him to butt in again. Miyagi just made a 'continue' wave with his hand. With a wary look, Hiroki continued.

"A nurse from the hospital joined us for breakfast. Uninvited. And Nowaki got hit on," he added, when he saw Miyagi open his mouth to question.

"Huh," Miyagi grunted. "Male or female?"

"Does it matter?" Hiroki replied with a dejected sigh.

"Suppose not," Miyagi mused. "But if you don't tell me, I'll mess up my pronouns."

"Fine. Female."

"So what's the problem?" Miyagi got up and disappeared behind the mountain of books that separated their desks, before reappearing with an ashtray. He dragged another chair over from the other side of the room to sit on.

Raising his eyebrows, Hiroki looked baffled. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Well, she hits on him, he tells her he's involved, that's the end, right?"

"As it happens, it's not the end. She didn't let up and only tried harder."

"That wouldn't have phased Tall, Dark and Scary, though, would it? He lives to defend your honour." Miyagi rubbed his chin wryly.

Hiroki didn't seem to notice. "He smiled at her," he said in a soft voice, almost too soft for Miyagi to hear. With a brief shake of the head, however, he raised his voice again, the moment gone. "And he let her eat from his plate!"

"I'm confused; he offered her some of his food?"

"No, he-- she took it on her own."

Miyagi flicked ash from his cigarette in to the tray. "So that wasn't really his fault."

"I-- I suppose not."

"What else happened?"

Hiroki thought back to his morning, to the gentle smiles and funny banter, and how the warm feelings had disappeared the moment Tomoyo had shown up.

"He talked so much about me at his work the nurse figured out I teach at the University. That is his fault." Hiroki crossed his arms, chin stuck out defiantly.

"A shrewd bit of sleuthing." Miyagi rubbed his chin. "But she didn't figure out it was you, specifically."

"No-- well, she thinks he's going out with some 'super perfect girl'."

"Now that really is misguided," Miyagi smirked.

"And ignoring your insulting remarks for a moment--" Hiroki made brief, glaring eye contact with him, "--what about privacy? I don't want him telling strangers about me."

"So you'd prefer him to lie."

"Yes! No! I don't know." Hiroki rubbed his right temple with his index and middle finger, squeezing his eyes shut.

Miyagi leaned back in the chair casually. "I'm confused again. Do you want him to say he's single, then?"

"No," Hiroki replied vehemently, eyes snapping open. "Then anyone would think they could have him."

"So... you don't want him to talk about you, but you don't want him to say he's single, and you're not keen about him lying." Miyagi blew a pretentious smoke ring. "Does that about sum it up?"

"Yes! How is that so hard to understand?"

Miyagi laughed a deep, throaty chuckle and stubbed out his cigarette. "In classical terms, you have just described a logical incompatibility between two propositions."

Hiroki mulled over Miyagi's words for a few moments, brows drawn together in thoughtful concentration. "A contradiction?" he murmured.

"Precisely. You don't want him to say he's single, but you don't want him to admit to being involved and say anything about you. So what is he supposed to say?"

He swiveled in his chair, turning away from Miyagi's satisfied gaze, eyes falling upon a lone chopstick sitting on the pile of exams he'd yet to mark.

Hiroki had experienced epiphanies before -- he'd had five so far in his life -- so he recognised the tell-tale tingling at the base of his neck.

Getting up so abruptly his chair shot back across the room, Hiroki began hastily piling papers (and the chopstick) into his briefcase. "I have to go."

Miyagi merely raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

"I've done half of the marking and am a day ahead of schedule. There are no more classes for the afternoon, so I'll take the rest home to finish."

"Kamijou--"

"Do you have a problem with that?" Hiroki half-asked, half-dared.

Miyagi reached for his pack of smokes and put a fresh one between his lips. "No problem," he said, voice muffled by cupped hands to shield the tiny flame from his lighter.

"Good." Hiroki strode to the door. With a hand on the doorknob ready to turn, he suddenly stopped.

"Thanks," he said stiffly, either unwilling or unable to turn around and face Miyagi.

"Remember; if you ever need a hug, or a shoulder to cry on, don't hesit--"

Miyagi's too-cheerful response was cut short by Hiroki slamming the door shut behind him, walking as quickly as possible in the direction of the train station.

He thought he heard a yelled 'You're welcome' behind him, but it was muffled. No-one else around him noticed, but then again, most tended to try and ignore any shrieking that happened behind the closed office doors of Literature Professors Miyagi and Kamijou.

***

Hiroki couldn't throw the door of his apartment open fast enough. Quickly divesting himself of his jacket and shoes and loosening his tie, Hiroki looked around. There was no Nowaki in the living room or the kitchen, but that wasn't necessarily unusual; he was probably asleep after his shift.

Words -- some of them actually apologetic -- swirled through Hiroki's mind as he tiptoed into their bedroom. He considered sliding into bed next to Nowaki and somehow finding a way to not lose his dignity when he pulled the other man's arm around his body.

The private smile that had begun to curl his lips at the thought quickly melted away when he entered the bedroom.

It was empty.

"Nowaki?" Hiroki called softly. No answer.

Hiroki looked in the closet. The black bag that Nowaki usually took to the hospital with a change of clothes in it -- the one Nowaki had been carrying at breakfast -- was gone.

A sliver of worry wormed its way into Hiroki's mind. What if Nowaki hadn't come home?

A quick trip to the laundry hamper confirmed Nowaki had indeed been back to their apartment; the clothes he'd been wearing in the morning were there. Hiroki scratched his head, well and truly puzzled.

It wasn't until he reached the kitchen that Nowaki's absence was explained. On the counter was a hastily scribbled note in Nowaki's careless hand.

Hiro-san,

There was an emergency at the hospital and am starting my shift early. I'll see you tomorrow evening when you finish work.

Love, Nowaki.

Hiroki took the note over to their couch and slumped in it dejectedly. He read it over a few more times and contemplated how he was going to make things up to Nowaki.

***

The next morning found Hiroki sitting in the same booth of the same café around the corner from Nowaki's hospital, leg jiggling under the table in anticipation. He'd sent a text message that had told Nowaki to meet him for breakfast again.

This time, instead of facing the stainless steel wall, he'd chosen to sit with his back to it, facing the door. That way he'd see Nowaki as soon he entered.

Hiroki surreptitiously looked at his watch. It was already a few minutes after the time Nowaki had met him yesterday. He exhaled slowly, twirling a single chopstick in his fingers. No cause for alarm, he could have been held up by anything. It didn't mean he wasn't going to turn up.

As if on cue, Nowaki's tall frame filled the doorway. His eyes searched for Hiroki, finding him quickly. However, instead of the large, stupid grin he was used to, Nowaki gave him an uneasy half-smile.

Hiroki swallowed nervously as Nowaki slung the black bag off his shoulder and placed it on the seat before he sat down himself.

"Good morning, Hiro-san," he greeted.

"'Morning," Hiroki replied.

"How did you sleep?"

"Not the best," Hiroki admitted. He expected Nowaki would give a soft smile; the clandestine brush of his hand would make everything all right.

"I'm sorry," Nowaki offered, keeping his fingers tightly laced on the table in front of him.

Hiroki sighed. It looked like he was going to have to cover more ground than initially thought.

Well, there was no time like the present. "Listen, Nowaki--," he began.

"Hiro-san, I know what happened yesterday upset you."

"Yes. I actually want to talk about th--"

"What Hirano-san said yesterday isn't exactly the truth; I don't talk about you all the time, but I do get asked if I am seeing someone, and I say 'yes'."

"I understa--"

Nowaki continued unabated. "And when I do, I get asked more questions. Most I don't answer, but some I do. I guess some of the people I work with think I'm being intentionally mysterious. The more I don't answer, the more they pester me."

"Nowaki--"

"And I can hardly hide that I'm happy," he shrugged helplessly, "which leads to more pestering and more questions and--"

"Oh for god's sake, Nowaki, would you shut up when I'm trying to apologise?" Hiroki snapped.

Nowaki's eyes widened, like a deer caught in headlights. "Hiro-san?"

Hiroki gave an exasperated sigh, fingers clutching nervously at his chopstick. It was hard to look at Nowaki's searching eyes, so he opted to stare directly at his chin.

"I've come to realise that--" he paused for a moment, the words sticking to the inside of his mouth like molasses. "--that I wasn't being fair. I shouldn't be mad that you tell people you're seeing someone. I-- er, prefer that to the alternative."

Nowaki was silent, and Hiroki took the opportunity to continue: "And that should be enough to deter most people, right? But she kept... with you even after she knew. Especially after. And I got mad."

Hiroki paused and waited for a comment from Nowaki, who seemed determined to stare at him, mouth open slightly in bewilderment. "Great... now he shuts up," he muttered to himself. "You can speak now, if you want."

It took a few moments, but Nowaki finally chose to speak. "Hiro-san, how would you like to be introduced?"

"I-- what?" Hiroki was thoroughly confused.

"When Hirano-san first arrived, I was going to introduce you as my friend, but you looked so angry that I hesitated, and you took over." At this, Hiroki had the good manners to look at least a little chagrined. "So, for future reference, if you don't want that, what would yo--"

"Friend is fine," Hiroki interrupted, and he was rewarded with a small smile from Nowaki. It began to grow larger as he continued talking. "I mean, we are friends, right? Friends go out to breakfast together, and restaurants, and movies, and go shopping. It's not uncommon to see good friends out together in public a lot, actually. Right?"

"Right," Nowaki returned, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his face split into a beaming smile.

The tension in the air evaporated, making Hiroki feel light-headed. It was physically impossible for him not to reflect back some of Nowaki's happiness, though it was mostly communicated by moving his knees under the table until they brushed Nowaki's.

There was another pause, but this one was much more comfortable than the last. Nowaki looked around for a waitress. "Do we need menus?"

Hiroki briefly had a sense of déjà vu, and gave a superior smile. "No need, I've already ordered."

Nowaki's eyes sparkled. "But how do you know what I want to eat?" he asked once again.

He meant to reply just as he had yesterday morning, but at the last minute, Hiroki changed his mind. "I'm your friend; I know these things."

The corner of Nowaki's mouth curled up. "We'll see if you're right."

While they waited, the two men chatted about their previous workdays respectively. Hiroki managed to get out a two-minute diatribe on how vehemently he hated the Doraemon theme song before Nowaki got to speak.

"I was called in early because Yuusuke -- that's that little boy who had the lumbar puncture -- was having complications and nearly arrested." Nowaki twirled his chopstick deftly between his fingers. "There was a problem with the trains and his parents still hadn't arrived. He was scared and called for me."

Hiroki was, once again, impressed with Nowaki's capacity to effortlessly care. "Is he alright?"

"Oh, yes. We were up most of the night playing checkers, until his parents arrived this morning just before my shift ended."

"That's great." He paused a moment, unsure of how to word what he wanted to say with the least amount of over-the-top emotion. "I'm proud of you. You're going to be a good doctor."

Hiroki winced, wondering if he'd opened up the floodgates of outrageously sappy sentiment. However, Nowaki just stared mutely at Hiroki, shock and unexpected pleasure flushing his cheeks.

"Thank you," he said simply, handing Hiroki his chopstick.

"You're welcome," Hiroki mumbled as their breakfast arrived.

The waitress arrived with two sets of silverware and one large plate, upon which was a stack of fluffy golden brown pancakes with a side of butter and syrup.

The waitress left, and Nowaki stared at their breakfast with a curious expression. "Why only one plate?"

Hiroki unrolled the knife and fork out of the napkin. "I figured if you were going to share breakfast with anyone, it should at least be the person who paid for it."

Nowaki chuckled and began cutting into the pancakes. Hiroki screwed up his nose. The comment had made him think of other unpleasantness from yesterday, and he couldn't un-think it.

"How is Hirano-san, anyway?" he was proud that the sarcastic comment didn't contain nearly as much sarcasm as it probably should have. He hoped Nowaki appreciated it.

Nowaki swallowed his mouthful hastily. "She's fine. Oh, and about that yesterday--"

"I don't think I want to go into it, Nowaki," Hiroki stated, "I don't want to lose my appetite again."

"I talked to her," Nowaki continued, stubbornly. "I told her that although I liked her, her behaviour yesterday was improper. I said I loved my partner, and had no intentions of even entertaining the notion of looking for someone else."

Hiroki's hands froze, mid-cut. "Really?"

"Really," Nowaki confirmed. "I also said that, knowing my partner as you do--" he smiled a little then, "--you didn't appreciate her actions, either."

Hiroki was at a loss for words. "Well, I-- yes. Uh," he dropped his voice to a furtive whisper, "you really said all of this to her?"

"Yes."

"What did she say back?"

"She apologised for being so forward. She said it was obvious I was serious, and happy, and had no real wish to spoil that."

Hiroki grunted in response. While he wasn't one hundred percent sure about the sincerity, it was certainly a surprising turn of events. Even more surprising was the fact that Nowaki had done all of this on his own. Hiroki realised he'd sorely underestimated Nowaki, and was happy to be on the receiving end of his particular brand of comfort. So much so that he nearly missed the next thing Nowaki said.

"--and wants me to pass those same apologies onto you."

" Wait, apologise to me? Why?"

"It was your first meeting and she didn't wish to seem inappropriate in front of you. Also--" Nowaki's lip twitched here, "--she found you quite interesting, and said that should you wish to have her cell phone number, I should pass it on."

Hiroki accidentally dropped his fork. It connected with the plate to make a large noise. "You're saying... after all that... she's interested in me?"

Nowaki had trouble keeping the quaver of laughter out of his voice. "She said you were 'cute'."

Hiroki groaned and slumped forward in the booth's seat, head nearly touching the table. Just what he needed.

He felt a familiar hand rest on his head and tousle his hair. Hiroki looked up to see Nowaki's smiling face. "But my Hiro-san is cute," he said in a low voice.

"Shut up," Hiroki responded, without much heat.

Nowaki did just that, and they continued to eat their pancakes. At length, Hiroki spoke.

"Do me a favour; tell her... I'm already in a relationship." Nowaki looked up, a hopeful smile on his face. With that as encouragement, Hiroki pushed on. "And tell her..." Oh, this was going to be difficult, "I'm as happy in mine as you are in yours."

This time, Nowaki dropped his fork.

~finis