Muraki had seen that there was a fitting spread that holiday, a traditional Christmas feast in the British style: turkey with chestnut dressing, roast potatoes, bread sauce, parsnips, bacon, sausages, roasted chestnuts, with a plum pudding to follow.
He'd heard of Tsuzuki's appetite, but he'd never seen it in action till now; thus he spent much of that meal hardly touching his own plate (not that he needed much in the way of physical nourishment, given his nature...), watching Tsuzuki putting away not just second but third, fourth and even fifth and -- oh kami-sama -- sixth helpings, pausing only to loosen his belt before finally leaving it undone. He knew Tsuzuki was a preternatural entity, but this went beyond the limits of that: any mortal being would have blacked out by now, or collapsed from a ruptured stomach lining.
At length the death god leaned back in his chair with a sigh and a contented belch, cradling his swollen belly in his arms, his eyelids slipping closed.
"I've seen many sights that are strange from a medical standpoint, but I had always thought this a gastronomic impossibility," Muraki remarked.
"I couldn't help myself, it all tasted so good," Tsuzuki groaned, holding his sides.
"Shall I help you to a sofa so that you may be more comfortable?" Muraki offered, rising and putting a hand under his shoulder. He would rather lead Tsuzuki upstairs and put him to bed, before laying down beside him to caress him till the dear thing fell asleep, though he knew, even with a full stomach, Tsuzuki would snarl at him if he did that.
"You're going to have to roll me there," Tsuzuki said groaned. Normally he would have pulled away, but this time he rose and allowed Muraki to help him hobble to a sofa against the wall, before helping him to lay down carefully. "Don't try anything funny, you hear me?" Tsuzuki said, growing serious, even a little defensive as he looked up at him.
Muraki knelt beside him, dutifully checking Tsuzuki's pulse. "Of course I wouldn't: you began the evening as my guest, and you're ending it fairly as my patient."
It occurred to Muraki that stuffing himself silly might have been Tsuzuki's idea all along, all the better to avoid an intimate situation later. It didn't stop him from finding the bloated shinigami adorable nonetheless: a swollen belly on the right person could be a thing of beauty. He ran his fingertips over Tsuzuki's belly. "I believe there's some pink bismuth in my supply, if you're feeling too uncomfortable."
Tsuzuki shifted as if he would edge away, but he clearly felt too full to move. "Ugh, if I swallow anything else, I'll probably explode," he groaned.
Muraki smirked. "That's hardly likely but if you'd rather hold off till you feel a little less full, I'll bring some when you've digested that a bit." He traced a slow circle about Tsuzuki's navel with his fingertips.
Tsuzuki opened his eyes and glared down at Muraki's hand. "Take your hand off me, Muraki: I swear I'll puke on you if you don't."
"You'll have to forgive me: you're adorable to begin with, and when you're glutted like this, it's hard for me to keep my hands off you," Muraki said, patting Tsuzuki's tummy one last time before sitting back on his heels. The angry glare which Tsuzuki darted at him before closing his eyes was the icing on the Christmas cake.