Note: More Touma/Shin. I just can't get enough of their friendly bickering. (I also can't stick with one story for more than a few days apparently.) This one is set 10 years after Message. Shin is an OBGYN physician fellow at the University of Tokyo Hospital. Touma is a physics research professor at the university. Jun sees them both every day, but they never really see each other. As usual, I have no idea where this is going. I don't even know what the Tale of Marise is going to be yet. That's just how I work. :D

- - -

THE TALE OF MARISE: Chapter One

"Here, have some more," said Isamu, delicately tipping the wine glass over the curve of Shin's lower lip. He placed the glass down on the bedside table and tried to wipe Shin's mouth with his sleeve, but they only ended up in a tangled pile on the mattress. "Mmm, that was a bit clumsy of me."

Shin rolled over and buried his face into his pillow, which smelled of the wine Isamu had spilled over it earlier.

"Don't fall asleep now," Isamu chided. "You've still got all your clothes on."

"And they're going to stay on," said Shin, stretching lazily. The dim light of his lamp made his movements seem more sensual then they already were, if that was even possible. "I don't have sex so early in the relationship. Besides, I think you're a little drunk."

Isamu frowned. "Early? I've known you for nearly two years, since that day you visited my department when you were still a resident."

"That makes it all the more disturbing, doesn't it?"

"Damn it, Shin, I'm your boyfriend." Isamu cupped his face with one hand, losing himself in the lively curls of Shin's hair with the other. "Just let me have you once."

"Lover, not boyfriend," Shin insisted, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. He turned his head slightly as Isamu leaned over to kiss him, so that the kiss landed on his jaw instead of his lips. "I dislike the word 'boyfriend.' It makes us sound like schoolboys."

Isamu sat up stiffly, reaching for the wine glass and throwing his head back dramatically as he drained it. "Well, I can hardly be your lover if we've never made love, right?"

"Companion, then."

"Oh, Shin," said Isamu with a short laugh. "You're such a tease." He adjusted himself so that he was sitting between Shin's thighs. Receiving no visible response from the other man, he reached for Shin's belt, trailing his fingers along the buckle slyly. "Are you going to stop me?"

"Yes," said Shin, so calmly that it sounded more like a consent than a threat. "Jun is in the next room."

Isamu paused for a moment, confused. "That boy? He's going to stop me?"

"I meant that I feel uncomfortable doing what you're asking me to do when he's so close by," Shin elaborated.

But Isamu was no longer listening. He was too busy fumbling with the buttons on Shin's shirt. His hazy vision made the task harder for him, not to mention the warm struggling body below. However, this only seemed to encourage him more.

Suddenly, the sound of shuffling feet came from the living room, then the sound of someone pouring himself a glass of water on the counter. Shin froze for a split second before grabbing Isamu firmly by the forearms. Isamu gasped as he was practically lifted off the bed and a powerful kick landed squarely on his chest, sending him flying halfway across the room.

"What the hell was that for?" he yelled, clutching his ribcage. "Shit, you're stronger than I thought."

Someone knocked hesitantly on the door. "Shin-niichan? Is everything okay in there?"

"Go back to sleep," Shin replied. "I'm fine."

"No, he's not," said Isamu, striding over to the door and swinging it open. Jun stood at the doorway in his pajamas, still holding a half-empty glass of water. Shin watched motionlessly, his mouth hanging open in horror. "Your precious 'niichan' refuses to have sex because you're in the same apartment. He probably thinks you don't even know how it works."

Before Jun could respond, Isamu was already packing his belongings and heading out the front door. Shin sat at the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples in frustration.

"I'm sorry," was all Jun could say.

Shin let out a breath that sounded something like a mix between a sigh and a moan. "Don't apologize for something that isn't your fault," he said. He gave an exhausted smile and motioned for Jun to sit down next to him. "I've been such an idiot lately. Tell me honestly, am I still treating you like a little boy?"

Jun opened his mouth to say 'no,' but closed it again. "You know what's weird?" he said instead. He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve before continuing. "You were always the one who treated me as your equal, but I wanted you most to treat me like a younger brother… probably because you treated me as your equal."

"Jun, that's awfully nice of you—"

"No, it's true," said Jun. "I know you told me not to call you 'niichan' anymore, but I can't help it. Sometimes, I find myself wishing I weren't so tall so I can still call you 'niichan' without feeling so ridiculous."

Shin's mouth suddenly felt very dry. He touched Jun's hand gently, so that their fingers brushed. Those once tiny hands were now bigger than his own. "Thank you."

To Shin's surprise, Jun reached over for the bottle of wine at the corner of the bed, filling his cup of water to the brim and watching the two liquids swirl around in a slow dance. "Do you mind having a drink with me?" he asked, nodding at the emptied wine glass on Shin's table.

"Not at all," Shin replied gratefully, holding the glass between his fingers as Jun filled it with wine. "Although it does feel a little strange. I've never had a drink alone with any of the guys before."

Jun raised his eyebrows as he drank from his cup, but didn't say anything.

"You can leave anytime you want, you know," said Shin quietly, taking a small sip. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. "It's even harder to ask to leave. I can understand if you don't want to stay. Sometimes, I feel so selfish making you stay just to keep me company. You probably don't even need this place anymore."

"Whatever," said Jun. "I need your company much more than you think. Besides, who will take care of you if I leave?"

Shin laughed lightly, lowering his glass. "I'm really starting to see a bit of all of us in you."

Those words echoed in Jun's ears until they became nothing more than a warm presence in the back of his mind. "Maybe it's time you guys got back together again. I know all of you are busy with your own lives, but there's only so much you can say over the phone."

"You're probably right," said Shin. He closed his eyes and opened them again, as if the other four might suddenly appear. "But I'm such a mess at the moment. Then again, it isn't fair that you're the only one who has to see me like this."

"Well, that's what friends are for," said Jun, with a trace of that familiar naive smile. "They help each other, right?"

- - -

"You're healing beautifully, Kimura-san. The uterine contractions are normal after-effects, but if they last, perhaps we'll take another look into it." Shin took his last few notes of the day. "You should be back home with your new baby in a few days."

"How's my baby girl?" asked Kimura-san, stretching her neck to see into the crib.

Shin placed his clipboard down so he could lift the baby into her mother's arms. "She's very quiet," he said. "Some of the others cry endlessly. You're lucky to have her."

"And she's lucky that such a wonderful doctor helped to deliver her. My husband was beginning to think I wouldn't—" Kimura-san stopped talking for a moment, her eyes focused on something behind Shin. "I think that doctor outside wants to see you."

Sure enough, Shin's supervisor was standing outside the window, mouthing something urgent and waving for him to come outside.

"Nakamura-sensei? Did something come up?" asked Shin, after making sure the room door was closed.

"Actually, yes," said the doctor. He tapped one foot against the floor, arms crossed stiffly against his chest. "There's a man named Hashiba in the waiting room who insists that he has an appointment with you. I tried to explain this is the obstetrics and gynecology department, but he doesn't seem to understand. You know very well that I don't allow visits from friends."

Shin wasn't sure whether to feel angry or pleasantly surprised. "I wasn't expecting a visit," he said truthfully. "I'm sorry."

Nakamura-sensei smiled grimly. "Make sure it doesn't happen again," he said. "You've been doing great since you joined this department. I don't want to be forced to make you leave." He waved his hand toward the waiting room. "Whoever was looking for you is still there, unless he finally realized he was in the wrong place, but I doubt it."

Touma was looking through the magazine rack in the corner when Shin walked in. Several of the other men waiting for their wives to be discharged were throwing him uncertain sidelong glances. Shin tried not to think about what Touma had told the receptionist—he really didn't want to know.

"Are you just going to stand there?" said Touma, without even turning around. "No friendly greeting?"

When Shin finally found his voice, whatever pleasant feelings existed were gone. "How did you get in here?" he asked, snatching the maternal fashion magazine Touma was pretending to read out of his hands. "This really isn't funny. You could have gotten me thrown out."

Touma finally turned to face him, skillfully imitating the grave look on Shin's face. "Is this how you talk to all your patients, Mouri-sensei?"

"No, I… Why are you here?"

"To pick you up," Touma replied, as if it were part of his daily routine. He propped one elbow against the wall casually. Shin noticed, much to his disapproval, that Touma's shirt buttons were off by one row. "Doesn't your shift end at eight? It's past eight forty-five."

"Oh, really?" said Shin, completely unamused. He shoved the magazine violently back onto the rack. "I'm perfectly capable of going home myself."

Touma shrugged. "Well, then, I guess I'll just go back to my office, after waiting… oh, only about an hour or so, just for you to get out of work."

"Did you drive here?"

"Of course, not," said Touma. He grinned sheepishly, allowing his easygoing mask to slip away. "Come on, I haven't spoken to you in person for almost a year. You're the one I see least frequently, but you also live the closest. At least let me take you home."

Shin didn't answer, which Touma took as a yes. They took the elevator to the lobby. Just as Touma was about to step out, Shin pulled him back inside. He waited patiently for the elevator door to close again. "Hold on…" he said, starting to unbutton Touma's shirt.

Touma nearly jumped high enough to make a hole in the elevator ceiling with his head. "Just what the hell are you doing, Shin?"

"Readjusting your buttons," said Shin, giving Touma's collar a little pat as he finished. "Now, how did you say you got here again? Did you walk?"

Touma's transport turned out to be a creaky old bike, which he admitted he bought from one of his students for a really cheap price. "It came with the back seat," he explained. "I can't find any bikes with those in stores. Besides, they make bikes so irritatingly shiny nowadays."

The 'back seat' was actually a metal rack fitted over the back wheel.

"I think I'd rather take the subway," said Shin, eyeing the rack doubtfully. "That doesn't look too sturdy."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. I'll bet this seat can hold someone twice your weight."

Shin raised an eyebrow.

"According to science," said Touma, throwing one long leg over the real seat. "The laws of physics. Whatever. Are you coming?"

"Are you sure your IQ isn't getting lower?" asked Shin. He tested the rack with his hand before sitting on it cautiously, leaving both his legs on one side. "I swear your intelligence level drops every time I see you. Maybe you have your mind on backwards, like everything else."

Touma rolled his eyes childishly. "That's how your IQ works," he said. "At a certain point, it decreases as you get older. Otherwise, it isn't a quotient. Or maybe you're finally getting smarter. Hold my waist, unless you want to fall off and get run over by a fancy car."

The bike weaved in and out of the traffic. It was fairly late, but cars returning from work were still pouring into Bunkyo from Shinjuku. Shin had to reluctantly admit to himself that sitting in the back seat of Touma's bike was much more comfortable than standing on the crowded subway. The spring breeze felt cool against his face and hair. Besides, it was nice being so close to an old friend again. He unconsciously tightened his grip on Touma's waist as they turned onto a narrower road.

"I heard from Jun that you're dating men," said Touma suddenly, turning his head slightly. "How did it happen? Did you get sick of fingering women every day?"

"Touma!" Shin exclaimed. He shook his head in disbelief. "It's not 'fingering.' I wear gloves, you know. And it's only a small part of my job."

Touma was grinning like a maniac, even if Shin couldn't see it from behind. He began to pedal faster as the cars got fewer down the road. "Then I suppose having safe sex isn't really sex."

"You always have the crudest way of putting things."

"Well?" said Touma, clearly ignoring Shin's little comment about him. "You haven't told me how you discovered your interest in men."

"I didn't," Shin admitted. "They always ask me first."

Touma gave a small puff of triumph. "What did I used to say about you making a good wife? I knew it! I'm not the only lazy one out there. All those men just want you to cook for them and do all the housework."

"And sleep with them," Shin added under his breath.

"Whoa! Too much information. If you have, I don't want to know."

Shin's apartment building appeared at the corner. Touma parked the bike on the curb and headed wordlessly into the building without even waiting for Shin to follow, as if he'd walked inside millions of times. He probably has, Shin thought. I've been living here far too long. When Shin reached the elevator, Touma had already gone upstairs. Shin watched as the light stopped at his floor and came back down. It didn't bother him too much that Touma just left him behind. Besides, Jun was upstairs, probably watching television.

He didn't realize how wrong he was until he opened his apartment door.

His suitcase blocked the doorway, along with several overstuffed bags. There were articles of clothing, including underwear—mostly Jun's, but also some of his own—strewn across the living room floor. Touma and Jun stood in the middle of the mess. Jun was still in the process of packing something that looked suspiciously like snorkeling gear.

"We're going to Hagi," Touma announced. "The train leaves at ten."