(A/N: Khandalis here, teaching you obscure grammar and destroying your morals with every fic. I sincerely aplogize for an spelling/grammer mistakes that may appear. Staring at the same story four fourteen months does that to you.)

Pleonasms

I.

Black darkness

It wasn't the slow creak of the white hospital door or the sharp intake of breath that woke Dojima, but the confident tak tak of Souji's gait that he'd gotten used to over the months that aroused him. Dojima turned his head as his nephew stepped into the dimly lit room, watching him as Souji entered with a rarely sort of hesitance. The breeze from the ceiling fan made small waves in the sheets and disturbed the colorful get wall card on the side table as it propelled overhead.

"…Dojima-san?" Souji didn't turn on the lights. Dojima figured this was for the off chance he was asleep (which he was pretending to do). There was a pregnant pause before Souji turned, looking about ready to leave. It was then that Dojima cleared his throat and answered.

"…Souji….?"

Souji made his way over to the bed side and peered at him worriedly. "Did I wake you?"

"…Don't worry about it."

Dojima sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes. He watched in silence as Souji turned on the light farthest from the bed.

"Do you need anything, uncle?" he asked. The older man just grunted as he tried to find a comfortable position to sit in. It was something of a struggle, and Souji watched him, equally silent.

"How's Nanako?" Dojima asked when he was finally situated.

"The same. She seems fine, but she is unresponsive." Souji replied.

"…I see."

They lapsed into silence, having nothing truly pertinent to say that hadn't been expressed already. Dojima stared at the blank television, deep in thought. He vaguely felt Souji's eyes on him, and turned back to return the gaze.

"Yes?" Souji asked, seemingly unnerved by his silence and blatant staring.

"Does any of this bother you?" Dojima asked swallowing a yawn before it could escape. He was still very tired…

Souji blinked, confused. "What?"

"Any of this," Dojima gestured in the air as if it would help clarify. "Does it even bother you? You look just as calm as ever."

And Souji did. The times Dojima had seen nephew ruffled had been few and far in between. Here he was, bandaged and damaged in the hospital with his daughter dying, his life falling apart and Souji looked as stoic and unbothered as ever. Perfect, unflappable Souji.

Souji gawked at him, speechless. Then, for a split second, a plethora of emotions fought to dominate his expression. For a split second, Souji looked angry—no—livid. For a split second, Souji looked hurt, like he might cry. For that split second, Souji looked like he was aching, as if Dojima's words had ripped apart a scar and left something open and oozing. And as cliché as it seemed, Dojima thought that he could see into Souji's soul. For a split second. But then the moment passed, and Souji's visage slid back into its usual blankness.

"Of course it bothers me." His nephew said. Dojima could hear a hint of hurt in his voice. "You're family."

"Just familial duty?" For the life of him, Dojima didn't know why he was pushing the boy. He wasn't even processing parts of their conversation because his body seemed to drift between sleep and wake. Dojima watched, with increasing difficulty, as his nephew's eyes flashed again.

"No." Souji said with conviction.

Souji looked down at his hands and they lapsed into silence a second time. Dojima couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, fatigue washing over him like a wave.

"…It's not just familial duty because I love the both of you." he heard Souji say. "I love Nanako-chan. And I love you, Dojima-san." That last part was whispered. Like something Souji hadn't meant to say (because Souji clammed up after that); a Freudian slip. But Dojima heard it. Just as he was slipping under the surface of unconsciousness, he heard it. His body felt like lead, and he didn't know if he even summoned enough energy to make his lips move or if Souji heard him or not, but he answered him.

"Yeah. I love you, too, Souji."

II.

Mutual Cooperation

Dojima wasn't sure how it happened, but one night, he found himself dragging his drunken nephew to bed.

Predictably, Adachi had come over to celebrate another case closed as well as another clue found on the Kubo case. Also predictably, he brought booze. Any other night, Dojima would have been all for guzzling the mind numbing, problem masking substance, but for some reason, he hadn't been up to it and drank only two beers. The fact he had puked his guts out the day before (He made a mental note: Never engage in drinking battle against Adachi. The man drank like a fish) had much to do with his abstinence. Somewhere along the way, while he was putting Nanako to bed, Adachi caught Souji in his drunken, yet convincing grasp. Dojima had returned to see two men completely hammered. How Adachi managed to get that much alcohol into his nephew in the span of five minutes was beyond him. After sending Adachi home by cab, Dojima attempted to help Souji up. But the boy latched onto his arm; no amount of shaking worked to get him off. So, Dojima gave up and headed to his room, Souji coming along by default.

He didn't bother to turn the light on in his room, and attempted to fling Souji off his arm and onto the bed. To his chagrin, the boy clung hard, whining and mumbling incoherently. Dojima sighed through his nose, quickly regretting it when the distinct smell of "wasted" filled his nostrils.

"Souji," he growled. "Souji, let go. I can't change clothes with you clinging to me like this."

Souji's dignified response was to crawl up his side until his head was buried in the crook of Dojima's neck.

"C-Cold…" he stammered pressing himself harder against the apparent warmth of Dojima's body. Well, if that didn't send a pool of fire right down to his groin. He could hardly blame himself. Dojima was slightly buzzed, and Souji was squirming against him like a cat in heat. Dojima wondered if the idea to drag his not-so-manly in body nephew off to bed with him was such a good idea after all. Or why the fact that it was his nephew hadn't been enough to deter his thoughts.

"Cold…" Souji whined again.

Dojima blinked once, breathed in deep, and then walked over (while dragging Souji) to his thermostat and turned up the heat. A wiser decision might have been to pry the kid off him, even if he had to break an appendage or two. But he was too (or maybe not enough) drunk for that. It took five minutes, but his nephew detached himself from him long enough for his apparent thigmotropism to stop. Dojima pulled back the covers, lied down and laid Souji beside him. His nephew was asleep in minutes, leaving Dojima hot, bothered, and in no way capable of sleeping (because of the thermostat). Still, He was sure he didn't want to know what Souji was dreaming about. Somehow, someway, Adachi would pay for it. He wasn't exactly sure how or when, but one thing clear: Souji was never to be let near alcohol again.

III.

Pair of Twins

"Souji-kun?" Dojima's attending nurse had asked. "Could you give Dojima-san a sponge bath?"

That was where the most embarrassing day of Dojima's life had begun. The nurse hadn't really asked, but politely ordered Souji to do it. Most likely, she was thinking only in the best interests of Dojima, a lonely middle aged man stuck in a lonely hospital. And somehow, the woman conjured up the idea for his teenage nephew to wash his naked body with a sponge and a towel. Great idea. Gold medal worthy. Really and truly.

"Uhm, okay." Souji answered politely even though the woman was already out the door. Dojima gazed at him blandly, unable to move (partially because of his hospital ventures and partially because one of the doctors threatened to castrate him if he got out of bed without permission again). Souji looked at him questioningly, and he sighed.

"The things are in the bathroom." Dojima grunted. Souji just nodded and rushed to get them. He returned not five minutes later with a sponge, soap, a small bucket of water. With another sigh, Dojima made a move to sit up and undo his buttons, but Souji's hand stopped him.

"I'll do that."

Dojima said nothing, but raised an eyebrow.

"You…the doctor said that you shouldn't sit up on your own for a while, so I'll do it."

As if to prove his point. Souji began unbuttoning his shirt. Dojima watched him, only to realize that this bothered his nephew and closed his eyes. Poor boy. If he hadn't picked that particular day to escape, he would still be in his hospital gown, a much easier item to remove. Then again, if he hadn't decided to escape that day, Souji wouldn't need to worry about the difficulty of removing his clothes in the first place.

'Good going'. He mentally chastised himself as Souji removed his shirt from his shoulders and unbuckled his belt. He had to admit, the boy was fast and efficient. It was too bad his sense of touch and hearing had heightened with this closing of his eyes. So when Souji's fingered grazed over the sides of his thighs in his attempt to remove his pants, Dojima willed himself not to laugh; it wouldn't do for Souji to find out he was ticklish.

Warm water and a soft sponge glided across his broad chest, and Dojima flinched. He'd been too wrapped up in his thoughts and hadn't been expecting it. Souji paused for a second before continuing.

"Is it too hot?" the boy murmured in question as he washed between Dojima's legs and thighs and moved on toward his legs.

"No."

"Hm, okay."

Souji didn't speak again until he had thoroughly washed his uncle's body. "Finished." He said. Dojima opened his eyes to see the boy grinning.

"You forgot the towel." He said, frowning.

Souji blinked in realization, and then hurried off to the bathroom to get it. Inwardly, Dojima groaned as he felt the water on his skin cooling. He was shivering by the time Souji returned.

"Sorry…"

"Just hurry."

Souji nodded and began to wipe down his body. Dojima couldn't contain his shudders when the rough towel moved over his pert nipples (made so because of the cold). This time, he kept his eyes open, watching warily as Souji wiped everywhere but his penis. He thought to comment, but Souji quickly began the task. However, he'd only been at it for fifteen seconds before he stopped, flustered.

"Dojima-san, ah, uhm…it's getting bigger." Souji said, seeming to wince slightly at the lack of tact in his choice of words.

"Of course it is." Dojima said with a frown. "With the way you're rubbing it and all."

"Sorry." Souji said for the nth time. "I'll take care of it." Dojima blinked. "It just got even bigger." Souji announced and then he flushed as he seemed to realize something. Dojima turned his head in mortification, praying earnestly that a lovely hole would swallow him at that exact moment. A large and lovely hole. Preferably with teeth. He didn't get the chance to finish his fervent prayer, because mid-plea, Souji had gripped his erection with the towel and began long measured strokes up and down the shaft.

"Souji—!" he gasped. "You—stop that!"

"I'm partially responsible." Souji answered, never taking his eyes off what he was doing. "We can't leave you like this, and you aren't allowed to sit up, meaning you can't do it yourself, so…"

Dojima thought that it was about time he told Souji exactly what he thought about the doctor and the doctor's orders(involving several expletives), but never got the chance because his nephew pressed the tip of the towel into the slit of his glans with a nail. Dojima groaned as his body convulsed, feeling nothing but shame at his wanton behavior. It had been such a long time since someone else's hands had fondled him, but he was sure he had more self-control than this.

"Hm…" Souji commented pensively. "…Maybe the underside…?" Souji traced a clothed finger along the vein that ran from the top to the underside of his penis. Dojima felt his pelvis twitch at the tingling sensation it left. Souji wrapped his fingers underneath and pumped up and down, steadily increasing in speed until Dojima was writhing in the bed. It didn't take long. Dojima cried out as he felt himself build up rapidly and tumble over the edge, secreting a stream of milky white semen into the towel. Souji smiled as he wiped the sticky substance from Dojima's member. Dojima decided that Souji's complete seriousness in all situations (though creepy as hell) was probably a positive rather than negative thing. He could be pleased with completing any task, no matter what it entailed.

No sooner had his nephew dressed him in the hospital gown did the nurse who started the whole mess come in.

"Oh, goody. You're done. It just occurred to me that you might not have known what to do, but it seems you did a thorough job."

Souji chuckled politely. "I managed somehow." The nurse smiled and exited the room. Dojima snorted. He didn't believe that excuse for a minute. And, judging by the twitch of Souji's eyebrows and his unsteady smile neither did he.

IV.

Penetrate Into

In his weaker moments, Dojima turned to alcohol as a crutch.

He'd vowed to keep Souji from them, but in truth, it was the spirits had such a strong hold on. There were days when Dojima came home so drunk he couldn't tell the difference between the bathroom and the kitchen. Other times, he was so inebriated and angry and depressed that he cursed and fought Souji, who was only trying to help.

Help. It was far too late for help.

Help was supposed to be in the first bottle…or the second. But he'd been drinking help for seven years and nothing.

Dojima was dimly aware of someone entering the bathroom as he vomited the alcohol that his stomach rejected. His vision hazed when he turned his head to the sound. He saw the fuzzy outline of a silver being.

"S-Souji…?" He called out, voice cracking in the middle as he shivered. He body was spiking hot and then dropping to cold off and on and again.

"Dojima-san?"

Dojima tried to call out again, but nausea hit him, and he found himself wheezing into the toilet bowl for the fifth time that night. Distantly, he heard Souji rush to him, fussing over him, rubbing his back soothingly, but he couldn't respond. Some small part of him felt disgusted, but his alcohol ridden brain could only think SoujiSoujiSoujiSoujiSoujiSou jiSoujiSoujiSouji—

"Dojima-san?"

Souji cupped Dojima's face with his hands and tilted his head so that he could peer into his uncle's bleary red eyes. No doubt an attempt to gauge whether or not the older man's condition warranted a hospital visit. But Dojima was still unresponsive. His ears heard, but his brain didn't process anything. There was only sensory overload with smell, voice, touch, and Souji.

He'd tried. He really, really had. Dojima had tried his best. But patience and perseverance were like twine. They snapped. And so did Dojima.

Without so much as a warning, Dojima crushed his lips roughly against Souji's smooth ones. Tongue darting out, he lapped at the inside of Souji's mouth before it could even register in his nephew's mind. But surprise was never a thing that hindered Souji. He fought back with equal vigor. The boy Dojima thought would give soft, possibly even sophisticated kisses, bit, nipped, sucked and returned twice as much as he was given. Dojima moaned into his mouth and somewhere in the part of his mind that was slightly less drunk (not sober; never sober) he felt terribly embarrassed.

Souji pushed at his shoulder, and flipped them over roughly; Dojima's head hit the ground and his vision swam. The urge to purge his bowels returned with a vengeance.

"Bitter."

There was an ocean of noise in Dojima's ears. "What?"

"Your mouth," Souji leaned in as he paused. "Is bitter."

Dojima was distantly aware of the clothing being peeled from his body and wet heat on his chest that sent heat of a different kind, straight to his groin. He groaned and bucked, desperately rubbing against Souji. And then he stopped, flushing in shame as the alcohol left him for a moment. This was his nephew he was grinding against (The same nephew that was suckling his nipples). Souji released him, and looked up. (Tussled mouse colored hair, wet lips, flushed face, bright piercing eyes). Dojima groaned.

"Why'd you stop?" Souji's mouth said. Or maybe his eyes said it. Or maybe…. Dojima couldn't think and the halo that had settled in his nephew's hair was a starting to look like a horn in the middle of his forehead. Dojima giggled at the idea that he was having sex with a unicorn (but then Souji started rocking his hips and those giggles disintegrated into moans).

It was all so surreal that he wasn't sure where his hallucinations ended and his reality began. To think that Souji, Souji, would return the more basic human desires he had all but buried in the core of himself beneath social acceptances, ethics, and moral obligations. It was unthinkable, unsettling, but so very licentious.

"Urgh…Souji…" Dojima ground out of gritted teeth as a set of phantom ones ghosted over his throat where suckling kisses were planted from thins lips.

"Dojima-san…"

He simply moaned in response, breathless and boiling within his heated skin.

"…Dojima-san?"

That inquiry broke through his haze. It sounded both near and far and strangely devoid of the feeling they contained only moments before.

"Souji…?"

"Dojima-san."

This time, his name was breathed with relief. Perplexed, Dojima opened his eye, unaware that he had closed them in the first place, and was blinded by what he could only identify as unforgiving sunlight. Realization like the painful assault against his retinas cut through him and he groaned. Souji looked worried and took another step closer, much to Dojima's chagrin. His lack of moral propriety was an ignominy even if it was only in dreams and Souji was completely unaware.

"I'm fine, Souji." Dojima felt the need to say, his voice cracked in his dry throat. He lifted his chest from the ground and groaned in disgust. Apparently he'd missed the commode if his reeking, soaked shirt was anything to go by.

Souji studied him for a moment before relaxed and offering him a glass. "Water?"

Dojima swallowed and nodded. Then thought better of it as his head protested in cruel painful ways it hadn't done when he'd first awaken. Souji nodded and added that he'd bring pain killers as well. Dojima grunted in thanks.

Souji paused at the door before exiting. "It really isn't my business, Dojima-san, but I think you shouldn't drink so much for a while."

Dojima looked up wearily and held Souji's grey gaze for a long as he could until the intensity of it intensified his aching head and he had to look away. He looked up briefly when he was sure Souji had left and sighed. Ignoring the unforgiving sunlight steadily pooling its way into the bathroom through the window, he stared at the door and wrestled with the sinking feeling that he had just been silently admonished by a boy nearly twenty years his junior. Dojima closed his eyes and turned his head in attempt to block out the light as he awaited his nephew's return.

Lifting a lazy had to scratch lightly at a spot between the base of his through and his collarbone where a reddening was forming, he murmured to the air, "I think so, too, Souji".

V.

Affirmative Yes

Dojima and Souji's relationship had never been one of flowers and roses. Dojima was far too callous and Souji had a thing for shirking authority (no matter how polite he was about it). The tension between them had lifted substantially after the Adachi incident, but it had not diminished completely. Nor had Dojima come to terms with his turbulent feelings. And it hung between them even after the Dojimas had returned to their home from their prolonged hospital visit. Even Nanako had noticed (but then again, it was hard to ignore a dancing elephant). Souji didn't seem to have a problem refuting its existence, but Dojima had never been one for subtleties or dismissals, and he certainly wasn't one for confronting any form of emotion on his part. His remedy to this was usually drowning in alcohol or becoming terse with any who encountered him. Needless to say, Souji's increasing inability to simply ignore his black moods and not retaliate had made their infrequent but very real arguments nothing short of corrosive and bitter.

So when everything disintegrated one day when Dojima took his provocations a bit too far, Souji couldn't be completely held responsible for the violent way in which he reacted. Just as he couldn't be blamed for the feelings Dojima harbored that made him so prone to acting out.

It had started civil enough. Souji had come home late again on a school night ("With Yosuke at work" was his consistent excuse) and Dojima had said something snide and simultaneously haughty. But he hadn't expected Souji to turn on him with such vitriol. His nephew had simply had enough.

"Stop it." Souji snarled, his voice tight with coiled anger as he seethed from across the kitchen. Dojima sat at the table, unresponsive for a moment, recovering from the shock of Souji's outburst.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, uncle. Did I stutter? Let me reiterate: Stop. As in stop hounding me."

Dojima bristled immediately and put his paper down. "Now, look here, Souji—"

"No." Souji stared him down, grey eyes darkening in anger. "No, uncle. I am sick of this. You provoke me every single day. I thought you were just letting off steam, so I didn't do anything. But it's got to stop. It's irritating and it's upsetting Nanako."

"Don't bring her into this." Dojima growled.

"Oh?" Souji's tone turned nasty. "Won't own up to anything, will you? You won't admit that what you are purposefully doing to agitate me is also agitating your daughter? If it were her confronting you would you stop?"

A low feral sound rumbled in the back of Dojima's throat and he glared at his nephew. Nanako had always been a taboo topic, never to be brought into their fights. The fact that Souji was overstepping these bounds and being so verbose was reason enough for caution, but Dojima was too riled up to take notice of it. After all, he'd been goading for a fight.

"You may hate me, uncle, but the least you can do is treat me with decency as a human being. I never asked to come here."

Dojima's laugh was unkind and mocking. "No one asked you to stay."

The comment stilled Souji, and hurt flashed across his face. In that brief moment, Dojima wondered if he had gone too far. But before he could say anything more, Souji had put up his guards again.

"And yet you still let me stay here, uncle. Why do you, if you hate me so much?"

Souji's voice was soft, but sharp; like fiber glass. His eyes were accusatory as they watched his every movement. Dojima felt unsettled and suddenly unwilling to continue the conversation.

"Drop it, Souji. You live here. You live by my rules." Dojima made a move to stand up from his chair but Souji interrupted him.

"Ah, does that mean I have "bend over" when you say so as well?"

Dojima froze. Souji looked entirely unapologetic. He continued calmly, but his flashing eyes (nearly charcoal now), were telling of how deeply angry he truly was.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He pushed off of the counter he was leaning against and walked to stand over Dojima. "Did you think I wouldn't be able to tell?"

"Souji." Dojima said warningly.

Souji ignored him. "It's in your eyes, uncle. You don't look at me innocently. And it isn't Aunt Chisato's name you groan at night."

That one crossed the line. Dojima nearly choked on his rage, but it was given over to surprise when Souji unceremoniously climbed into his lap.

"What are you doing?" he started in alarm.

"Airing the dirty laundry, uncle." Souji said blandly and thrust his hips forward. Dojima's protests were caught in his throat. Souji smiled, but it was sharp as knives. "So it was just sexual tension? How pathetic, uncle." He leaned in close to his neck, so close that Dojima felt his lips with every formed word.

"Couldn't you find a more mature to express your desire to _ me?" Souji trailed a wet, warm tongue into the crevice behind Dojima's ear and the man shuddered.

"Were you afraid I'd be disgusted?" Souji hadn't let up at all, grinding his hips almost painfully against Dojima's and whispering angry words into the base of his throat. "Afraid that I would leave?"

"Yes." Dojima groaned. Souji pulled back for a moment and simply looked at him, his anger abated by Dojima's contrite demeanor.

"Then," he said, tone sharp with disapproval, "Say something, next time."

In all of his much less innocent day dreams that included his nephew, Souji had never once initiated anything. Because to do so would have been wrong. Dojima screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He gripped the sides of the chairs until his knuckles turned white. But it was all for naught because Souji sank his teeth into his jugular and sucked. Dojima keened like a wounded animal and whimpered when Souji's tongue soothed where his teeth had broken skin. Broken, like his resolve.

Dojima gripped Souji's glutes and squeezed, kneading the flesh. He sighed, content now that he had something tangible to accompany his intangible imaginings. He massaged his lips against Souji's as the boy gasped and shuddered under his experienced hands. And the whole thing would have made it to the 'totally awesome' mark if they hadn't forgotten it was a school night and Nanako hadn't come running down the stairs in search for homework help.

"Nii-chan!" Nanako called as she entered their kitchenette. She stopped shortly; her grip on a manila envelope was lax as she stared. Souji looked up at her, flushed slightly from where he had fallen when Dojima made his hasty escape. Her father had his back to them, making coffee.

"Are you alright, Nii-chan?"

"I'm fine, Nanako." Souji supplied, picking himself up before sending a half-hearted glare in Dojima's direction. "What do you need?"

Dojima smiled to himself as Souji steered Nanako into the living room, in easy light hearted conversation. It might be a while before he would be able to face either of them in his current state, but at least for the time being, regarding Souji, he knew he had the okay.

(A/N: I know. Don't kill me. *hides*)