A/N: Thank you for everyone who reviewed, faved and followed. I hope you like this chapter! Please review, I really like hearing what you guys think about my story!

This was self Beta'd, so if there's any grammar mistakes, please let me know.

Disclaim: I don't own the VF series.

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Asami's curiosity far outshone his need to retrieve the photographer. Instead, he had indulged himself in the small packet of papers that Takaba had hurled at him in an angry fit. The content consisted not only of Takaba's adoption papers, but pictures, and journal pages that highlighted Akihito's childhood. The packet made for a total of fourteen pages

Past the first two, each page was labeled with a name, a description, and occasionally a photo or a picture. Obviously, the writing was a biography of some sort regarding the labeled name, but the language made it near impossible for Asami to decipher.

The author, who Asami assumed to be Takaba, had written everything in German. The words, the phrases, the accent marks were all alien to Asami.

Occasionally, here and there, things would be written in English, but other than that, no Japanese. So Japanese wasn't the young man's first language?

It didn't seem like it was his second language either. Then it was his third language perhaps? Asami chuckled, Takaba was smarter than Asami gave him credit for.

He flipped back to the picture of the redhead.

So this investigator was Takaba's father? Asami could see that, and wondered if the tendency to be nosy was a family trait.

But than again, Takaba was adopted, so it couldn't be.

It was getting late. . Tomorrow, he'd settle things with the photographer. For now, he would decipher what he could.

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Takaba had tossed his shoes off, and plummeted down in the large, king sized bed. The redhead sat on the side of him, his small eyes scanning the pages of a large, dusty book. It was Dracula, by Bram Stoker.

"Don't you get bored reading that stuff?" Akihito turned to face his father, who looked at the old pages with an impassive expression.

"I suppose, every now and then, the book repeats itself like a broken record. I get as bored as I allow myself to. Wouldn't you say Akihito," He turned toward his son, "Repetition can be quite...tiresome? So tell me-"
"No dad, I'm not introducing you two, end of story!" Grumbled the photographer, as he looked away, "Now let me sleep in peace."
"Well, I believe I'm at liberty to know why my twenty four year old son is sleeping in his father's bed!" Protested Mr. Takaba, "Is it really that hard to introduce us?"
"I told you, he's a dick! He thinks I'm a fucking liability! and-"

" Liability? Did he break up with you?"

"Ugh! Of course not! It wasn't like we were together in the first place. He's a jerk dad! Apparently I'm too much work for him!" Cried the photographer, "Leave it at that!"

Mr. Takaba nodded, and turned the page, "You seemed very sure about him when I met you earlier today."
Takaba huffed, "It's like he has fucking mood swings! Dad, I told you, leave it alone."
Mr. Takaba nodded, and began to read aloud, "Come to me Arthur. Leave those others and come to me. My arms are hungry..."
And he continued to read Dracula, in that same, boring, monotone voice. This was a form of psychological torture. Takaba grunted, and brought his hands to his ears.

Yet, his father's voice continued to penetrate his defenses.

"I am puzzled afresh about Reinfield. His mood changes so rapidly that I find it difficult to keep touch of them_Sounds like your significant other, does it not, Aki?"
Now that was slightly insulting.

"He's not like Reinfield, dad!" shouted Takaba, "He-"
"Has mood swings," he began his diagnosis in a calm voice, "Check. What are some other symptoms?"
"For one, he doesn't eat flies, he's not crazy! He's just a jerk!"

Mr. Takaba chuckled and shut the book, "Does this jerk have a name?"
"Not one that's important," Takaba popped up from his position on the bed, and began walking around the hotel room "Not anymore, at least."

The words said in the fight before tugged at Akihito's heart. Was that really how Asami saw him? He looked around the small area to distract himself.

The room was extravagant and large. A dark shade of green painted the square walls, and atop of dressers and shelves lay his father's work. Old artifacts, and books lay in neat rows along the wooden surfaces. Takaba dragged his finger against a circular looking object that stood out particularly to him.

It was like a large bottle that was topped with the head of an animal of some sort. The photographer tilted his head.

"What is it?" asked the blond.

His father looked towards his son, and smiled, "Ahh, that's the container that held the stomach of a royal cat. The cat's insides have now crumbled to dust, but I fancied the artifact itself. They let me keep it."

Takaba recoiled his finger, and felt slightly sick inside. He rubbed the dry dust on his pant leg. "That's nice," he said, "I think I lost my appetite."

As he continued his walk around the room, Takaba sighed, he supposed his father deserved some sort of story. He was letting him stay anyway.

The mood in the room changed. His father was listening.

"Okay, the story is, he thinks you're going to investigate him, and got mad at me because he things it's a setup, and that i'm just gonna get in the way" Takaba admitted, refusing to look his father in the eye. He occupied himself with the different artifacts on the dresser, "he never listens."

"Is there a reason for him to worried about my presence?" Began the older Takaba, "And alongside that, I'm not in Japan for to investigate anyone. I'm here for an archeologist meet."

Takaba nodded, he was well aware that his father hardly investigated anyone anymore, and had turned his attention towards history and archeology. Apparently, his reputation still rung true in the Underworld.

"No dad, he's not doing anything bad-"
"What's his name?" His father's voice dropped, and he gazed at his son, "And don't beat around the bush this time Akihito."

The younger man bit his lip, "Asami."

His father smirked, "Ahh, Asami Ryuichi? I do believe I heard a colleague of mine delving into personal matters regarding this Asami. He wouldn't happen to be dealing with underground weapon's smuggling, now would he?"
Takaba stared at his father with a pale face, and wide eyes, "N-no! Of course not, what a coincidence!"

His father laughed, and crossed his arms, "Don't worry too much Aki, when he becomes a problem, he'll become an issue. But say, isn't that young chap Kuroda keeping tabs on him?"
Takaba forced himself to smile, "Y-yeah, he is! And like I said, nothings going on! Nothing!" Why he was defending a man who didn't even appreciate him, he did not know. For once, however, Akihito was grateful of Kuroda's ever looming presence.

"Good, but, if he does become an issue, and you happen to be dragged down into some...I don't know, trouble, I'll get rid of him promptly," his father spoke sternly, as he leaned back against the headboard, "I don't mind stepping back into my old shoes if it means protecting my children."

His father's words were not a warning, his words were a promise. Takaba was amazed that his father hadn't caught wind of the Fei Long accident, but unintentionally, Akihito had opened doors to the subject. For all he knew, his father could know everything.

It would only be a matter of time now.

"So, does this mean I can meet this Asami?" Asked his father. Takaba rolled his eyes, "I don't know. Do you really want to? I mean..damn, I guess."

"Will he let you back into his house? By the looks of things, It seems like he kicked you out," replied the Japanese man, "So..."

"I kicked myself out, dad. He pissed me off, and I walked out," the younger Takaba didn't feel like going into detail about the situation, nor did he feel like relieving the previous events that had pissed him off earlier.

Takaba walked over to a stack of books that had been tossed on the ground, and picked up the first one that stood out to him. Like the rest of the artifacts in his father's hotel room, the leather back book was dusty, and worn. He brought a hand to the prickly spine of the book, and dragged his fingers along the large threads that kept the large piece of literature together. There was an inscription of some sort on the spine, but he couldn't read it. He'd never seen the language before.

He looked at the cover, which bore the same alien writing.
"What's it say?" He asked his father, without looking away from the ancient text. His father shrugged, "We don't know yet. It's not actually an established language, rather a combination of many dead languages. Like Latin, and its different dialects. There's even some different dialects of German inside of the book, though not the kind you're used to. Maybe you could..."

Takaba hadn't intended for his father to lecture him about linguistics, but as always, his father could never provide a short answer. Not when it came to history at least.

While his father chatted about the workings of the Latin language, and ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphics, Akihito had busied himself with the pages of the age old book.

A few had been bookmarked, while others had been dog eared. The pages were thick, and fabric like. They almost felt like they were made of out of animal skin.

Each page had a picture that was painted above a large column of words. These paintings were of artifacts, the kinds one would see in a child's fairytale book. Kings golden crowns, queen's silver rings and wizard's ornate staffs filled the pages. It wasn't anything that Takaba hadn't seen before.

And then he flipped the page.

He gasped at the electricity that surged through him when his fingers made contact with the tattered parchment. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up straight. A picture depicted a large, red sword. While not all of the language was understandable, he scanned the page for words he could understand. Something was beckoning him towards this picture.

"Schwert...von...karminrot...inferno..." he muttered the words to himself. The first three were in his native language, and read "Sword of Crimson" the other one was Latin for fire. The entire page was etched in notes, and marking. The words "Crimson Spell" were scribble somewhere else, in Japanese.

"It's said to be one of the worlds most powerful artifacts," his father's informative voice came from behind him, "But funny thing...it's not from this world." The blond jumped at the close proximity, and turned towards his dad.

There was an eerie silence that hung about the couple, and Takaba figured his dad knew a lot more than he was telling him now.

"W-What do you mean by that?" Asked the younger man, as he looked into his father's eyes for the answer.

His father said nothing, and instead, took the book from his son's hands.

"Nothing you need to know by," responded the deep, aged voice, "It would bore you to death I suppose."

Takaba took the hint, and nodded. "Yeah...I guess...and I guess I can introduce you two. He just has to learn how to behave himself before you guys actually do get to see each other."

His father nodded, and headed back towards the bed with the book in his hand , "You sound like your mother," Mr. Takaba laughed a hearty laugh, and plopped on his bed, "So I guess this means that my son doesn't get to spend the night?"
Takaba blushed, and made his way to the door.
"Dad," he placed a hand on the door frame, and turned towards his redheaded father, "Why would I, a twenty four year old man, be sleeping with my father? I'm not a kid anymore!"

The young man made his way to leave, but his father's soft voice stopped him.

"Hey Aki, instead of getting upset with him, try to make him understand. Talking usually solves many problems."

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Takaba had debated on whether he should sleep on a park bench, or swallow his pride and return to the penthouse that night. He voted for the latter, because avoiding Asami would only result in disaster. And plus, periods of prolonged absence usually made Asami incredibly horny. Takaba had no intention of dealing with a sexually frustrated Asami anytime soon.

As he walked to the penthouse, he wondered if he should apologize for his behavior. Sure, Asami deserved the backlash, but he hadn't exactly known that Takaba was adopted, and for someone in Asami's position, a detective meant a lot.

Takaba sighed. In all honesty, he was lucky that Asami didn't take immediate action and shoot his father in the head.

That would cause all sorts of problems.

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Standing in the door way, the photographer sighed. He always had a way of crawling back to Asami. Like always, he shook off his sneakers, and tossed them onto the mat near the door. Stepping over the two pairs of shoes, he walked into the penthouse and closed the door behind him.

With each silent step he took into the building, he found it funny how he nearly forgot what he had been so angry about before. He supposed love did that to people. Made them learn to forget and forgive.

However, the word "liability" stabbed his heart like a sharp needle. It wasn't like he wanted to be a liability, or like he wanted to always get captured by weirdos. He just wanted to be a photographer.

If anything, the "liability" aspect of his life was fault of the older man.

Quietly, he stepped into the living room, and was thankful that Asami's home wasn't one of those old apartments that creaked when even the smallest pressure was applied to the floor board. Asami was probably asleep now, and as angry as Akihito had been with him earlier, he had no intention of waking him up.

So slowly, he tip-toed to the bedroom, yet was surprised by what he saw.

Asami wasn't sleeping like he had predicted. Actually, he was very much awake. The papers that Takaba had thrown at Asami just hours ago were scattered on the bed, and the older man held one in his hand, trying to discern the language.

So he was trying to make an effort to understand.

"It's written in German," came Akihito, who stood in the doorway, "You probably can't read it." Asami looked towards the door, and allowed the piece of paper to fall out of his grasp.

"Takaba...you're back?" The older man was slightly shocked. Never in the history of any of their fallout's had Takaba returned so willingly, and so quickly. Not to mention, standing there, at the door, Akihito looked more humbled, more mature.

The younger man closed his eyes and sighed. He bit back the little pride he had left, "I'm sorry about my outburst earlier," the photographer grumbled, "and I suppose sometimes...I can be a liability. But it's not like you didn't know that when you first kidnapped me. I'm a photographer, Asami. It's who I am. Could you just accept that?"

Asami was slightly taken aback, as he hadn't expected Akihito to apologize like a mature adult. It was slightly unnerving.

"Akihito," Asami sighed, and called the younger man towards the bed, "come here." The photographer forced his weary legs to carry him to the large, plush bed. It took mere seconds for Akihito to collapse face first unto the heavenly cloud.

Being angry was such a drag.

The paper's crunched under his heavy body, but he didn't care too much about them anymore.

Asami, however, was actually attempting to read them, so Akihito's complete disregard of the content under his body reinstated Asami's initial thoughts regarding Akihito's immaturity.

He smiled, and brought a hand to the boy's head.
"Hey," came Akihito's muffled voice, as he hit Asami's hand, "I'm still mad at you."

Asami recoiled his hand, and tapped the photographer on the back, "Than look at me so I can apologize."
Akihito jumped with such a force, that the bed could have been on fire. Asami was apologizing? To him?

The photographer stared like a fish out of water.

"Don't look at me like I'm an insect," began Asami, as he leaned back against the headboard.

"Well, it's not everyday you actually go out of your way to apologize to me," retorted Akihito, "I'm just...I don't know. Just get on with it."
"Fine," the older man rolled his eyes, and sighed, "Next time I accuse you of something, I'll be sure that I have an adequate amount if information to support my stance."

Takaba nodded, his mouth still slightly agape. He was waiting for more, "and..."

Asami raised an eyebrow, "Thar's all. I have apologized."
Takaba's eye twitched, and a small hair stuck up atop his head. This situation was incredibly sad, because Asami was serious.

"A-Asami," Takaba's voice was small, and tiny, "That's not how you apologize to someone. An apology usually consists of an "I'm sorry". Not to mention, you're supposed to feel something when you apologize."

"That's my version of an apology, and I did "feel" something" Asami closed his eyes, "Take it or leave it."

"Say sorry first," spat Akihito, "Then I'll believe it."

"..."

Takaba stood up and began to walk towards the door, "Welp...I guess I'll just have to catch the-"
"...I'm sorry..."

Takaba looked over his shoulder. He cupped his ear with his hand in an exaggerated gesture, "What did you say?"
Asami grumbled, "I said I'm sorry."

Takaba smiled, turned around, and crossed his arms, "Sorry Asami, I could-"
"Don't push it, kid. That's as much as you're getting from me."

Takaba giggled, and walked back to the bed. He just needed to clear one more thing up. "So, I'm not a liability?"

Asami smirked, "I never said you weren't. But I suppose I can deal with that, you manage to add a little bit of spice into my boring life."
Asami grabbed the photographer by the wrist, and pulled him unto his lap.

"Idiot, it's your fault that I'm a liabi-" Asami silenced the younger man with a passionate kiss, and pulled the photographer closer to him.

Takaba gasped as something hard poked his thigh.

Asami was erect, and obviously horny. Takaba hadn't even been gone for that long.

The older man pulled away, leaving Takaba gasping for breath. Unfortunately for him, Asami's lust was contagious, because Akihito was beginning to sport a throbbing boner of his own.

Suddenly, Asami was on top of Akihito, like a hungry panther. He smirked

"W..wait Asami..." moaned the photographer, as the older man lifted up his shirt, and kissed the hot, exposed skin, "...my dad...wants to meet you tomorrow-"

A hand shot downward, towards Akihito's throbbing member. Skilled fingers navigated through the tight underwear, and encircled his steaming manhood. Takaba nearly screamed.

"I...need...to be able...to walk..."

Two dry fingers already sliced their way into Akihito's entrance, and the blond squealed in fervor. His back arched like a kitten in pleasure, and the heat in his body was rising like an erupting volcano.

Hopefully he wouldn't be visiting his father in a wheelchair.

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I hope you enjoyed it. I used a reference from Crimson Spell, some literature from Dracula, and a reference from Naruto. Yes, Takaba's dad is an investigator, but because of past events, he hasn't been doing much investigating. He likes archeology and history. Next chapter Asami and Takaba will get to meet his dad (yay)! I'm trying to update crippled love, and post like two new stories. Anyway, it's summer time ! Schools out! And again, I hope you liked the chapter. Have a wonderful summer, and God bless!