There’s something bothering Erich.

Kisuke risks another glance up from his nearly-empty box to check on his friend, hoping Erich doesn’t notice his steadily growing worry, but—

He really doesn’t need to hope, does he?

Erich is busy sorting through his own box, gaze focused and hands sure, but there’s a strange undercurrent of nervous tension in him that Kisuke doesn’t understand. He doesn’t even seem to notice when Kisuke stops to watch him, just keeps moving, keeps sorting, as if the box in front of him is all that exists in the world.

He’s been moving like that for hours now, box after box, barely stopping for a break even when Tessai came in to bring them lunch.

And underneath it, something keeps chewing at the man’s nerves.

Kisuke thinks back to their earlier conversation, wondering if it was something he said, something he did, that triggered this; he doesn’t think he gave his feelings away — he’s touched Erich’s shoulder plenty of times before, it’s not out of the ordinary — but… Erich’s sharper than he gives himself credit for, especially when he pays attention to his instincts.

(What if Erich suspects and is trying to devise a way to let him down?)

(What if Erich wants nothing to do with him?)

(What if—)

“Kisuke?” Erich asks, his voice soft-kind-concerned and his gaze focused on Kisuke with the same sharp intensity the box had gotten. He sets aside the handful of chains he’d just picked up and straightens, hissing as his back cracks audibly. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Kisuke huffs, shaking his head and carefully tucking any stray threads of reiatsu back inside his body; he’s not usually so sloppy as to let others sense what he’s feeling, but… well… Erich tends to make him drop his guard.

Erich’s eyebrows furrow and he glances from Kisuke to the half-empty box Kisuke had been working through. “Bored, then?” he prods, and there’s an edge there, a sharpness to his words that makes Kisuke wary.

(Erich suspect something.)

(But does he suspect the right thing?)

Except before Kisuke can censor himself, he blurts out, “Watching you is certainly more entertaining than organizing the same handful of items in twenty different variants.”

Erich starts at his words, eyes going wide and then narrowing thoughtfully. “Really now,” he murmurs, and there’s a pit forming in Kisuke’s stomach, a certainty that Erich’s about to say something he won’t want to hear, except… except Erich just snorts and looks away, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “I suppose you have a point,” he says eventually. “I appreciate how many examples of each there are, but at the same time…”

“A little more variety would be nice,” Kisuke finishes for him, relief crashing through him like a tidal wave.

(Erich doesn’t know.)

(Erich doesn’t know.)

“Yes,” Erich agrees with a wry smile, tired-amused-fond as he leans against the workbench and runs a hand through his hair. “Though I suppose we aren’t yet even halfway through, so… maybe that will change.”

“Maybe,” Kisuke echoes as he tears his gaze away from his friend, trying to ignore the urge to lean across the workbench and thread his fingers through Erich’s hair. Instead, he sweeps a look over the collection of things that they’ve already sorted out, pleased by how much progress they’ve made; it’s definitely a mess, but they’ve managed to make a dent in the number of boxes that Yoruichi brought them. A few more days and they might even be able to take an accurate inventory and start figuring out what they truly have on their hands!

He looks up, about to say as much, and freezes.

Erich is watching him, his gaze sharp and threads of puzzled certainty beginning to creep through his reiatsu presence; whatever Kisuke’s done this time has confirmed something for Erich, though what that could be…

(And why is Erich puzzled?)

(That… makes no sense.)

(Unless Erich’s second-guessing himself?)

(…about Kisuke?)

Kisuke swallows and rocks back on his heels, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his head as he prompts, “Maa, is there something on my face, Erich-san?”

“Ah, no. I’m just… thinking,” Erich answers with a shake of his head, then pushes away from the workbench and covers a yawn with one hand. “We should… probably call it for the night,” he suggests. “Before one of us makes a mistake like last night.”

“Maa, we should make sure to get some dinner first,” Kisuke reminds his friend as he wends his way through the maze of boxes in order to reach Erich’s side. “Tessai will be highly disappointed if we don’t eat at least something.”

Erich grimaces at the reminder, but still follows Kisuke out of the lab and into the much cooler hallway. “I suppose,” he says doubtfully, rolling one shoulder and rubbing at it with his other hand. “Not sure how much I’ll be able to eat…”

“Shoulder bothering you?” Kisuke asks, restraining the urge to simply reach out and press a healing kido to Erich’s shoulder without asking; Erich’s given him grief about doing that before, especially when there’s nothing actually wrong beyond stiff muscles or old injuries, and he’d really rather not deal with that tonight.

Not with whatever it is currently lingering between them.

“Just stiff.” Erich lets go of his shoulder with a sigh and straightens up. “Really, it’s nothing critical,” he reassures with a faint smile. “I’m just tired and paying for it.”

Kisuke hums in faint disbelief before shrugging and forcing himself to let it go; if Erich doesn’t want his help, then there’s nothing he can do about it at the moment. “If it gets worse, let me know,” he still offers, just to be sure that Erich knows he’d like to help.

“I will,” Erich says as they step into the main room, then stills at the sight of Tessai leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a stern look on his face. “Ah… Good evening, Tsukabishi-san…”

Tessai snorts and nods, then fixes Kisuke with a look. “It’s almost ten,” he says, tone calm-bland-dangerous. “I recall telling both of you that you should stop for dinner hours ago.”

“Maa…” Kisuke scrambles for an excuse, an answer, anything that will satisfy Tessai, only to come up blank; now that Tessai’s reminded him, he does remember the man coming in to bring them water and tell them the hour, and he also remembers agreeing that they’d be out ‘soon’, but…

Well…

When has he ever been able to pull himself away from anything in his lab at a half-decent hour?

Tessai continues to stare at him for a moment longer, then huffs and turns away, a smile curling at the corners of his lips and his reiatsu laced with fond amusement as he says, “Take a seat, I’ll warm up dinner and bring it out.”

“Thanks Tessai!” Kisuke calls after his friend, then exchanges amused looks with Erich and gestures towards the table set out. “Shall we?”

Erich laughs softly but follows Kisuke over, settling across from him as he ruefully says, “One of these days he’s going to get tired of us being like this.”

Kisuke shrugs and leans forward to pour both of them some water from the pitcher on the table. “He’s put up with me for decades at this point, so I doubt it. And really, coming out of my lab early is probably a worse sign than if I leave late.”

Erich seems to consider that as he takes a drink, gaze roving aimlessly across the room. “That seems reasonable,” he agrees after a moment. “Still…”

“He really doesn’t mind,” Kisuke repeats with as much confidence as he can muster. “He can be just as bad, believe it or not, he just doesn’t show it as often.”

“Really?” Erich asks, eyebrows rising in surprise as he sets the glass down. “Tsukabishi-san?”

“Really,” Kisuke says with a grin, remembering all the times that Tessai had lost track of time while studying kido. “He might pretend otherwise these days, but he’s lost track of time plenty of times himself. Why, I remember a time when Yoruichi and I had to drag him out of Seireitei’s library—”

“Telling tales, are we?” Tessai asks blandly as he steps out of the kitchen with a large tray held in his hands. “I seem to remember plenty of times having to drag you out of the library as well.”

“Not tales if they’re true,” Kisuke counters with a smirk, accepting bowl and chopsticks from Tessai as Erich leans forward to help Tessai transfer the dishes from tray to table. “You were almost late to your own graduation,” he teases, knowing exactly the sort of conversation this is going to prompt but hardly caring.

If it amuses Erich and sets him a bit more at ease, then it’s well worth the ribbing that’s going to come of it.

(He knows it is.)

(Absolutely.)