(no subject)

[sarahofcroydon]

Title: The Merger - Chapter 2
Past Chapters - Chapter 1
By:

pixxers &
sarahofcroydon

Pairing: Golden Pair,  AtoTez and more! Dan, Ryoma, Gakuto, Shishido... expect Momo & Akutsu sometime soon. ;3
Rating: PG for now. Pornorific for later.
Summary: Tezuka is not having a good year. He's got an Atobe gunning for his virtue company, a wildcard Art Director with a lovesick assistant and an incredible distaste for Opera. When Atobe gets up to a little corporate raiding, will Tezuka step aside to make room for an entire host of new employees or will he play Atobe's game and keep his cards close to his vest?

This chapter - Atobe calls on Gakuto for some mysterious business, and Oishi meets some filthy weirdos. Who knew little Taichi would turn out like this.

If there was one thing Gakuto hated more than anything in the world, it was menial labor. That was why, when Atobe’s inter-office memo had landed in his inbox mere seconds before Gakuto’s phone had beeped, his sense of foreboding was quite unable to be put aside.

“Mukahi.”

Gakuto leaned toward the speaker, even as he scanned Atobe’s email again. “Yes, Atobe-san?”

There was a pause and Gakuto could hear - very distinctly - the click of tiny plastic balls rolling across the table of the mini-billiards game that Atobe kept on his desk. That he was toying with that while placing a call to Gakuto could only mean one thing: he was antsy and wanted to talk about The Grand Design.

“Would you mind stepping into my office, please?”

Suppressing a sigh of exasperation and ignoring the pointed stare and accompanying smirk he received from Reiko, the resident gossip-mongerer, Gakuto began to work out the best way to inform Atobe that he was not going to oversee any moving of furniture in the coming weeks. That was not in his job description.

“Of course,” he returned, ending the call and rising to his feet with a quick glance at Reiko. She smiled at him - mocking, superior, black-hearted, man-eating harpy that she was - and Gakuto smiled back sweetly, wiggling his fingers in a casual little wave on his way past her desk.

Smug bitch.

He knocked once before opening the door and, when Atobe didn’t look up to greet him, closed the door and crossed the floor quickly to take a seat opposite his boss.

Atobe pursed his lips, considered the shot he’d lined up and exhaled forlornly before laying the tiny cue stick aside and finally acknowledging Gakuto.

“So what do you think?” he asked, with no preamble whatsoever.

Gakuto leaned back in the chair, resting one ankle on his knee. “Since when did it matter what I think? I think you should stop thinking with your dick. That’s what I think.”

Atobe rolled his eyes - he would deny it if Gakuto ever mentioned it, but he’d done it all the same; Gakuto had seen it - and reached for the bottle of water beside his phone. He stared at Gakuto while he uncapped the bottle. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is certainly not personal, Gakuto; this is business.”

Gakuto snorted in an attempt to quiet his laughter. It wouldn’t do to allow the plebes on the other side of the door to hear him giggling with the boss. It would compromise his image, as it were.

“Business? Keigo, this is so personal that I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that you’d offered to share your office just before you pissed on Tezuka’s back in an effort to mark your territory.”

“Honestly, Gakuto. Don’t be crass,” he admonished, flipping through his rolodex and preparing a subject change. “I didn’t call you in here to discuss the merger, in any event.”

Arching a brow, Gakuo rested one elbow on the back of his chair and fixed Atobe with a look. “Oh? You need something else…handled?”

With the barest quirk of a smile, Atobe closed the file and drummed his fingertips against the edges of the cards. Here was a subject he rather enjoyed bandying about. “Perhaps,” he hedged, enjoying the company of someone who could verbally spar with him without needing to rip open his proverbial throat in the course of conversation the way Yukimura always seemed inclined to do.

Gakuto leaned forward, scooting to the edge of his seat. His eyes glittered with anticipation and he licked his lips just thinking about the delicious task that would soon be his. “Say it,” he encouraged, breathless and eager.

Atobe took a slow sip from the bottle, holding Gakuto’s gaze as he swallowed. “Naturally, with a merger of this magnitude, there will be some…casualties.”

Gakuto nodded, already comprising the List of Corporate Demise. “Of course. We have to be fiscally conservative.”

“Some of our employees will be unable to remain with the company. There will be those employees that Tezuka will insist on bringing with him.”

At Gakuto’s eager nod, Atobe continued. “You, yourself will require a more impressive office in light of your upcoming promotion.”

“Promotion,” Gakuto whispered, leaning in to rest his fingertips on the edge of Atobe’s desk.

“I will leave it up to you, Gakkun,” Atobe murmured, reaching to wind a few strands of silky, bright hair around his fingertips. Gakuto closed his eyes and made that soft, happy little sound that Atobe recalled so fondly. For a moment, he was tempted to request a revisit of their former relationship or, at the very least, a quickie blow job under the desk.

He came to his senses quickly, however, when Gakuto opened his eyes again. Instead of big, throbbing red hearts where his iris’ should be, Atobe saw nothing but greed and avarice and it was reminder enough that he had Plans To See To. He withdrew his hand, rubbing his fingertips together as though to erase the immediacy of his distraction.

He and Gakuto had never meshed well - at least, never when they were clothed - and Atobe had a newer, more challenging goal to meet. Gakuto would run the office with an iron fist and Atobe would focus on the goings on of the Board and the systematic breakdown of Tezuka Kunimitsu’s romantic defenses.

“Make each decision wisely,” he finally said, and Gakuto stood, bowing respectfully.

“You can count on me, Keigo. Have I ever let you down?”

Atobe smiled, then. Gakuto was savvy and street-smart and - at the same time - as politically motivated as the most successful of white-collar criminals. “Never. You never have.”

Not even when he‘d smashed to bits the collection of Ming vases Atobe’s grandmother had so generously bequeathed to him. To this day, Gakuto vehemently denied that he’d been wearing ankle boots with three-inch block heels on them and, frankly, Atobe didn’t see the point in arguing semantics with a man who could annihilate a fortune in porcelain mere moments after a rather heroic attempt at sucking Atobe’s soul out through his cock.

It had been quite the messy breakup.

Gakuto was a pro, however, and there wasn’t a soul in the entire office who suspected that their relationship was anything other than a professional one. Atobe appreciated that and rewarded such circumspection handsomely.

When Gakuto reached the door, Atobe called him back. “Gakkun,” he murmured.

Gakuto glanced back, pretty face calm and placid. “Yes, Keigo?”

“Don’t make any changes in the IT department, ahn?”

For all his casually spoken words, Gakuto could barely keep the knowing expression from his face. Akutagawa. Always protecting Akutagawa.

“Whyever would I think to do that, Keigo? When Jiroh-kun is such a sweet boy.”

Atobe cleared his throat, reached for his water bottle again. “Yes, well…”

Gakuto snickered and he blew Atobe a little kiss as he turned the door handle. “I won’t be careless. Atobe-san.”

Atobe was silent for a moment - after Gakuto had closed the door - and told himself that the conversation had gone well. Gakuto had managed to get the last word, but it wasn’t an important concession. Not really. Not this time.

Really.

With Atobe’s door solid at Gakuto’s back, he glanced around the immediate vicinity, envisioning the empire that he would be helping to guide. Already, he was making lists and plans and daydreaming about the floor space that he would have to work with soon.

Which reminded him - he would need to contact a good moving company on Atobe’s behalf. It would certainly be viewed as a goodwill gesture when the time came for Tezuka to move his sad-sack group of second-rate executives into Atobe’s building.

Gakuto smiled. He really was so bloody clever.

Almost immediately, his gaze fell on Reiko and he couldn’t help remembering one of their very first exchanges. Fresh out of college and new to the company, Gakuto had imagined that such a pretty girl would need all the assistance she could get. He frowned, though, remembering how terribly wrong he’d been about that.

‘Dinner, Mukahi-kun? Oh, but…’ She bit her lip in consternation. ‘I suppose I…didn’t realize that you liked…women.’

Gakuto had handled himself with all the dignity and aplomb he could muster, even as the few peons gathered at the copy machine had tittered amongst themselves as though they’d just witnessed the most hilarious rejection in the history of the universe.

Well, well, little Reiko-san. It’s time to pay the piper.

Oh, how Gakuto loved retribution.

+++

“You’re an A-type. I can just feel it, you know? You’re suuuuch an A-type.”

Ryoma rolled his eyes. He hated Cosmo.

“That’s not just because I’ve been picking option ‘A’ all this time, is it.”

Ryoma spun round in his wheelie chair and threw a pencil at Dan’s head. It missed completely and the utterly unflappable Taichi pretended he hadn’t noticed it. He was the epitome of a haughty and elegant secretary, he was sure of it.

“Come on. There’s only two questions to go.” Dan leaned in conspiratorially and beamed. “I did it on your Momoshiro. He was an A-type too. You know what they say about that?”

“Fuck off,” Ryoma said, and turned to his computer to delete an email before he’d opened it. There was too much clutter at their little receptionists’ desk without needing digital clutter as well.

“No, they say that similar types understand each other. In that soul-mate way. Like Mystic Meg. Incidentally, your star sign today said that you shouldn’t go near bald, smoking strangers. I wonder if that’s cigarette-wise, or if they might actually be on fire?”

Ryoma slapped his hand down on the desk. “Taichi! The questions!”

“Right!” Dan returned to his girly magazine and put on what he liked to call his weathergirl voice.

“You’re at a party and there is only one canapé left. Do you- A, eat it, B, offer it to your charming date, C, share it with your charming date, D, throw it at someone.”

Ryoma picked at his fingernails with a paperclip. “E. Use it as a sexual aid.”

“Not quite sure they have that option, Fabio,” Dan said airily. “I’ll put you down for ‘A’. And finally, here’s the last one… oh.”

Dan peeked at his deskmate over the magazine, feigning shock, eyes wide as saucers.

“Would you ever purchase your own… pleasure-seeking device… in person?”

Ryoma’s expression was droll and sarcastic. “Apart from exchanging yours for a gift voucher this morning, because you -and I quote- ‘couldn’t feel a thing’, no, I probably would never do such a heinous and despicable thing despite owning five of the objects in question myself.”

“I still can’t believe you got one off e-bay,” Dan muttered, rolling up his magazine and throwing it into the bin. “I bet it was second hand.”

“Yes, well, it glows in the dark. And I hope you remembered to buy some cereal. Milk on its own isn’t quite the same.”

Before he prepared to embark on yet another involved exchange that could potentially keep them occupied for hours, Dan looked up from his own computer screen to spy their red-headed colleague and an unfamiliar young man approaching them from along the corridor.

“Oooh, trouble at twelve o’clock,” He murmured slyly out of the corner of his mouth, and within an instant both Dan and Ryoma were at their computers typing furiously.

“Oi, chibi-tachi!” Came Kikumaru’s voice from down the corridor, “Don’t pretend you’re working, we all know you’re trolling swingers dot com.”

“Finally got yourself a date?” Ryoma shot back without looking at Kikumaru’s new colleague, and decided that he might as well investigate swingers dot com, if that’s what Kikumaru thought he was doing.

“No, this is Oishi, my new minion and scapegoat,” Kikumaru replied, oblivious to the look he received in response.

Dan was more forthcoming, and stood with a brilliant smile and a hand extended to shake. “Oishi,” He beamed, nudging the bowl of complementary mints in his direction.
“Welcome to the desk. I’m Taichi Dan, and this is Echizen, and we’re your handy receptionists.”

“They room together in a shack,” Kikumaru said significantly, satisfied when he’d earned a glare from Ryoma.

“It’s a pad,” came the retort. “Anyway, once this merger goes through there’s talk we’ll be moving into company apartments.”

“Actually, that’s what these two are good for, talk.”

Once again, the significance in Kikumaru’s tone was clearly intentional, and Dan nodded enthusiastically.

“That’s right, if there’s anything you want to know, just come to us. Any goings on, any concerns…”

“And if you want to take a break,” Kikumaru nodded, “You know. Disappear for a while. Find a higher state of mind.”

“Go AWOL,” Dan interjected, “Become mysteriously absent from the toilets.”

“Engage in filthy pastimes,” Came Ryoma’s addition, “Posh nosh. Dosh. A wash.”

Oishi looked appalled. “Drugs?!”

Ryoma raised an eyebrow and Dan bit back a giggle. Kikumaru popped one of the mints into his mouth.

“To take an unofficial break off work,” he said, disappointed that his gopher seemed to be a lost cause already. “Tezuka doesn’t like it when I pop out to the sushi train. These two always have a brilliant excuse ready and waiting for me. They range from dying relatives to constipation, though I’m sure they could do something more elegant for you.”

Oishi flushed red.

“Although,” said Ryoma, gazing mildly at Dan, “If drugs are what you’re after, I’m sure your Jin might have a few little pick-me-ups to offer. Nobody on a cleaner’s salary can afford a bike like that.”

Finally, Dan’s impeccable cool was shattered, and his cheeks turned crimson as he demanded silence from Ryoma out of the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up! He’s a lovely man!”

“Lovely like his facial scarring.”

Recognizing the end of coherent conversation, Kikumaru turned grandly and ushered Oishi away from the desk. Once started, Ryoma and Dan could keep a single topic going for hours, flipping retorts back at each other as easily as they kept the ball in the air at the company tennis courts on the weekend. Often they’d banter throughout their matches too, and Kikumaru remembered one particularly agonizing afternoon where they both had refused to concede defeat until the matter was settled through tennis or otherwise…

‘toe-MAY-to’ or ‘toh-MAH-to’.

Kikumaru had thought himself in luck when he’d found a passing American tourist and asked him which was the more desirable. Sadly, the tourist had said he didn’t like either, though he rather fancied a Waldorf salad, oh, and were there any fries available?

Kikumaru had been tempted to take his credit card.

“They didn’t seem very professional, did they - Echizen and Taichi?”

Oishi interrupted his train of thought with a meek grin. His eyes, however, told a different story. Was that a sly twinkle? After a glance at Kikumaru’s expression, however, any mischief had disappeared from Oishi’s gaze.

“Not that I mean it negatively, you know. I think they’re quite lovely. I’ve never been in such a close-knit office environment before.”

“They’re ok,” Kikumaru replied. “Just don’t go to one of their booze-ups. Or if you do, take some hangover medication before you go. And I wouldn’t really call us close-knit…”

Upon spying one Shishido Ryou creeping from Kikumaru’s office with a mars bar and a furtive look, he was forced to modify his statement. “Maybe stapled together. Or something. They’re not a bad bunch. Anyway!”

Clapping his hands suddenly and making Oishi jump, Kikumaru pulled himself up and began issuing orders.

“Now to the order of the day! I’ll need to spend the next two hours storyboarding, so you can go and get me a coffee, white, five sugars and a butterscotch shot. After that I’ll need you to take something down to the courier, and then you can take my suit to the drycleaners. At twelve o’clock…”

He would have continued had Oishi not suddenly grasped his arm. Kikumaru gaped. He’d never been manhandled in such a manner!

“Hang on a sec,” Oishi said, not unkindly, “I wasn’t quite aware that this was how we were going to be operating. I rather thought we would be working together in tandem. I didn’t study four years to be a running boy. Although I would get some exercise.”

Kikumaru was appalled. “But you’re my assistant! You’re meant to assist me!”

That twinkly look was back in Oishi’s eyes. “I’m your overseer. I’m meant to manage you, actually.” He folded his arms and drew himself up and attempted to frown sternly. An unexpected little thrill ran through Kikumaru.

“I can’t believe it,” He muttered, mutinously looking up at Oishi through his fringe. He’d known he wouldn’t have been able to pull off turning the man into his personal slave, but it had been worth a try. Particularly when Oishi had looked so… so… eager and willing. Yes.

“Obviously Tezuka didn’t make this whole thing clear to anybody. I can’t believe you’re pulling rank on me.”

At that, Oishi laughed. A wonderful, melodious sound that seemed to brighten the office a few shades.

“I’m pulling your leg, mostly.” He said jovially. “I’ll be happy to make your coffee, just this once. I really had been looking forward to working with you though, Kikumaru, I mean it. I want to create something really interesting and new with you. Together.”

Oishi smiled and patted Kikumaru on the arm before heading in the direction of the tea-room.

“Butterscotch shot. I’ll make sure I remember it.”

Kikumaru had no idea what expression he was pulling, but it must have been magnificent and unusual. He’d never been lost for words before and he just about jumped when he felt an arm flop around his shoulder, and scowled when he saw Shishido there.

“Cat got your tongue? I’ll have to write that one down in the log. How uncool.”
Shishido’s breath smelt like chocolate.

“He’s not a cat,” Kikumaru snapped. “He’s my new overseer and I know he’s trouble; I can smell it from a mile off. Just like your guilt.”

Quick as a flash, he pulled his stolen mars bar out of Shishido’s pocket.

“Ha! Subtlety was never your strong point, Mr.-Shishido-I’ve-got-the-courier-coming-to-my-desk-every-two-hours-to-deliver-yet-another-present-to-my-mother-Ryou. We all see you ogling his arse. Just ask him for a date already.”

It was Shishido’s turn to scowl. “Oh, as if. That arsehole? I don’t know why I get him every time, it’s really annoying. And you know my mother has a sore arm, she needs all the help she can get!”

“You get him every time because you have his number and don’t bother with the courier service any more,” Kikumaru quipped dryly, and took a bite out of his chocolate.

Everyone around here was so in denial. Kikumaru was glad that he, at least, could tell the truth to himself, plain and simple. Once relaxed in his office chair, Kikumaru mused once more on just how lucky this company was to have a decent, honest soul like himself.

Oishi entered with a debonair smile and handed him his coffee in the elegant, practiced way of a restaurant waiter. Even his trousers were appropriately snug and Kikumaru felt his face get warm. Watching Oishi as he bent to sit, he phoned Dan to see if he could get the air conditioning turned up in his office.

Kikumaru Eiji knew how to tell it like it was.

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