Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way officially affiliated, with the characters in this story. Gravitation is the original creation of Maki Murakami.
A/N: Yet another example of what happens when I let my mind wander. Watch out for fluffiness and, naturally, some romance between two men. If you have a problem with that, boy are you in the wrong section of this site.
"Pleeeeeease, Yuki? Pretty, pretty please?"
"No."
Shuichi Shindou knelt in front of the sofa, his hands clasped before him, gazing soulfully up at his blonde lover. Bad Luck was leaving on a six-month world tour in just a couple of weeks, and Shuichi had been overjoyed to hear that he could bring Yuki.
Now he just had to convince Yuki, and he suspected that it was going to be an uphill battle all the way. Tactic #1, Begging, was not going over well. Yuki hadn't so much as looked away from the TV, even though Shuichi's pleas were completely drowning out the news commentator on the screen. Shuichi was nothing if not persistent. And loud.
He decided he needed to try a little harder. "Pleeeeeee—"
A throw pillow from the couch bounced off his face.
"I would rather lick every taxicab in Tokyo clean." Yuki turned the TV off and got up, stalking off into his office. He shut the door behind him with an air of finality.
Shuichi hugged the soft suede pillow to his chest, staring thoughtfully at the now-empty space on the couch. Giving up never once crossed his mind—there had never been much of a chance Yuki would respond to his opening gambit, anyway.
"I wonder what I should try next," he mused.
o-o-o-o-o
"Yuki! I'm home!"
The full-lunged shout shattered the silence that had reigned just moments before. It was accompanied by a solid thunk as the front door rebounded off the industrial-strength doorstop that had been installed for exactly such precipitous arrivals. Yuki shook his head and quickly hit "save" on his laptop. He knew what came next, and he just barely had time to stub out his cigarette and roll his chair back from the desk.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, a very familiar blur of bright-colored energy came leaping into the room and flung himself into the author's lap. Even though Yuki always pretended irritation at Shuichi's exuberant greetings, he wrapped his arms around the vibrant little singer all the same. Just, you understand, to prevent him from...er...overbalancing and falling. Right.
Ready for Shuichi's usual ramblings about his day, Yuki settled back against the leather. He was pulled forward again immediately, his eyes widening as he felt Shuichi's fingers interlace themselves at the back of his neck. And then he was being kissed, earnestly, urgently, tasting the faint strawberry sweetness of Shuichi's lips. There was a look in the wide violet eyes that Yuki thought he recognized, and he could feel himself involuntarily responding to it. He tightened his arms about the slim waist possessively, returning the kisses with a sudden eagerness of his own. This was a little unexpected, but he certainly wasn't complaining.
A few heated minutes later, Yuki was more than ready to carry Shuichi off to the bedroom. As he swung the chair around, however, the singer pulled back, expression coy. Yuki eyed him, brows raised, waiting impatiently to see what was going on. The mischievous smile on Shuichi's lips seemed to promise great things.
"Won't you miss this if we don't see each other for six months?" Shuichi breathed against his cheek. The next thing he knew, his clasp around Yuki's neck was brusquely disengaged, and he himself was dumped unceremoniously on the floor.
"I already told you no," Yuki said with an exasperated growl. "I would rather wear a suit made entirely out of cactus than go on that damn tour." He stepped over Shuichi and left the room abruptly.
Shuichi remained sprawled on the floor on his stomach, propping his chin up on a fist. "Drat, I thought that might work." Tactic #2, Seduction, nixed.
Within seconds, he heard the shower switch on. He grinned and rolled over onto his back. Maybe it hadn't been a complete failure. And now he'd have a couple of days to think over his next move, anyway. From the couch.
o-o-o-o-o
A few days later, Shuichi thought Yuki's irritation had subsided sufficiently for him to try again. Yuki had let him back into the bed the previous night, and the couple was even now eating a home-cooked dinner together.
Shuichi waited until they were about halfway through the meal—even he had enough common sense not to try the patience of a hungry Eiri Yuki—before he made his opening offer.
"Yuki?" he said with studied innocence.
Yuki looked up warily. "What?"
"If you come on the tour, I'll give you fifty—no, a hundred—kisses each and every day." Shuichi leveled his most winsome smile across the table.
It didn't work quite the way he'd hoped. Yuki made an indelicate retching noise into his coffee mug. "Please, I'm trying to eat."
Undeterred, the singer pressed onward. "All right, then...I promise I won't nag you even once about smoking."
Yuki rolled his eyes. "Like it's stopped me before," he commented around a mouthful of rice.
That was certainly true enough, so Shuichi paused, momentarily stymied. Then his eyes lit up.
"When we get back, I'll do all the dishes for a year."
"I like my dishes intact."
"I'll do all the laundry, too!"
"I can't afford to keep replacing my entire wardrobe."
"I'll be absolutely quiet while you're writing, and make everyone else be quiet, too!"
"Yeah, that's believable."
"I'll come with you on your book tours!"
Yuki shuddered, struck by a brief vision of Shuichi rampaging through a black-tie cocktail party, jumping all over him and singing along to the jazz quartet. "No thanks." He held up a chopstick. "Look."
Shuichi looked.
"I would rather take this chopstick, insert it in my ear, directly into my brain, and stir." To illustrate his point, he impaled a chunk of ginger-sesame chicken on its tip and flourished it with a little twist of his wrist. Then he ate the chicken, staring directly into Shuichi's eyes.
Shuichi had gone a bit green. The problem with writers, he decided, was that they had such graphic ways of expressing themselves. He excused himself hastily from the table and cleared his plate. As he left the kitchen, he heard Yuki's triumphant little chuckle.
Tactic #3, Bargaining, definitely failed.
o-o-o-o-o
Three days before the tour, Yuki glanced up from his computer screen as Shuichi walked into the office briskly, pushing one of the kitchen chairs up to the front of the desk. With a little sigh of resignation, the novelist saved his work, then closed the lid on his laptop and leaned back, waiting.
Shuichi, meanwhile, settled himself in his chair in a business-like manner. He figured he'd better really marshal his forces before he ran out of time, especially since Yuki had completely ignored Tactics #4-6: Pouting, Sulking, and Moping. This time, he was going to try being straightforward. He folded his hands neatly on the desktop.
"Look, I think we both know why I'm here," he said, striving for a tone of firm professionalism.
"Yes," Yuki replied, lighting a cigarette. "Lack of adequate birth control."
Shuichi elected to ignore that. He wasn't going to let Yuki dissuade him so easily. "I want you to come on this tour with me. I've thought carefully about your possible major objections, and I believe I've come up with answers for them."
"First," he said, "your work shouldn't be an issue. You write on a laptop, and I heard you tell your sister that you could work from anywhere. Isn't that true?"
Yuki had raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic seriousness of Shuichi's tone, but nodded once, slowly.
"Second, K has assured me that we will be traveling quite comfortably. While driving, we will have a luxury bus at our disposal, with sleeping compartments, kitchenette, and other amenities, including plenty of space for you to work. At longer stops, we will of course have hotel accommodations."
Yuki narrowed his eyes. "Have you been taking lessons from Tohma or something?" he asked suspiciously.
"Please let me finish, then we can discuss any points you dispute," Shuichi said primly. Actually, it was Suguru, but you ain't gettin' that out of me in a million years, Yuki. He was privately enjoying Yuki's reaction—he'd never tried anything like this on his lover before.
The author closed his eyes at that point, pulling his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose. He waved the glasses carelessly at Shuichi. "All right, go on, have it your way...just let me know when Shuichi Shindou re-inhabits your body."
"Thank you," Shuichi said gravely, repressing a strong desire to giggle. That would, of course, completely undo his presentation, and he'd spent too much time practicing to let that happen. "Thirdly, in case you're worried that you wouldn't get enough time to yourself to write, this is a tour for Bad Luck, not a vacation. We'll have plenty of our own things to do—certainly enough to keep everyone, including me, out of your hair at least as much as is usual."
There was no response.
"Finally, this would be an excellent opportunity for you to travel the world. You told me yourself you'd never traveled much outside Japan, except to New York. I would think it'd be pretty important for a writer to broaden their horizons a bit. Coming on this tour could really be beneficial to your work!" Shuichi finished with a flourish.
Yuki opened one eye. "Is it over yet?"
"Yes!" Shuichi said, waving his arms in exasperation. "Yukiiii! Weren't you even listening!" He blinked, suddenly aware of his lapse, and folded his hands again. "Ahem. I mean...yes, did you wish to bring up any other points for discussion?"
This time it was Yuki who had to suppress laughter, but he'd had a lot more practice at it. There was only a very faint smile on his lips when he responded. "Just one."
"What?"
"I would rather remove all of my skin with a cheese grater."
Incensed, Shuichi stuck his tongue out at his exasperating boyfriend and stormed out, knocking the chair over as he left. Tactic #7, Logic, struck out.
Yuki gazed after him for several minutes, listening to the sounds of Shuichi stomping around the apartment. After a while, he heard the TV switch on. He shrugged and unlatched the lid of his laptop, donning his glasses and getting back to work.
o-o-o-o-o
Shuichi dragged his feet the next day as he came home, feeling defeated. He'd tried everything he could think of, and Yuki just couldn't be budged. He'd just have to come to terms with that...and the depressing prospect of six whole months of a Yuki-less existence. Just the thought made him feel like crying.
"Maybe he'll at least fly out and visit me a couple of times." He sighed and turned the key in the lock, telling himself he really ought to be making the most of their two remaining days together. Maybe he could coax Yuki out of his office and get him to go out to dinner, or a movie. Something, anyway.
The living room was empty when he got inside, but he'd been expecting that. Shuichi hesitated, looking at the closed door to Yuki's office, then decided against going in. He really had to start packing, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep a handle on his emotions if he walked into Yuki's office and Yuki acted as casual as always, like nothing important was going on.
He trudged dispiritedly back to the bedroom.
And nearly jumped out of his skin as he came around the corner and ran smack into...Yuki.
"Ack! Yuki! I thought you were in your office!" Shuichi clutched dramatically at the dresser, trying to bring his racing pulse under control.
The other man didn't even turn around. "I'm not," he said simply. "Nice greeting."
Shuichi continued to goggle at him, slowly realizing that Yuki had a precisely folded dress shirt in his hands, and that his luggage was laid out on the bed. It was almost full, packed neatly with what looked like over half of Yuki's wardrobe. What was going on?
"Um...Yuki?" he said hesitantly, hardly daring to hope, even as the blonde calmly continued to fit things into the nearest suitcase. "What...what are you doing?"
"I'm packing, nitwit. Don't tell me you're now blind as well as dense." His voice was as scornful and off-handed as ever, but when he finally turned and faced Shuichi, something about his expression made the singer's heart leap in his chest.
"Are you..." He almost wasn't able to ask. "Are you coming with me after all?"
The rueful little smile on Yuki's lips was all the answer he needed.
"You are!" Shuichi pounced on his lover, knocking them both onto the floor. He was crying and laughing all at once. "You are! You are! Wait, what? You really are? Then why'd you keep saying you weren't before, you rotten jerk?" He socked Yuki in the shoulder.
Well-acquainted with the boy's lightning-fast changes of mood, Yuki simply rolled his eyes and gathered Shuichi up in his arms, soothing him with a tenderness that belied his wry tone of voice. "Remember all the things I said I'd rather do than go on tour with you?" he asked.
"Of course I do! Most of them were really disgusting, by the way." Shuichi let his head be drawn to Yuki's chest, but his tone wasn't entirely mollified.
"Well, I thought about it, and..."
"And?"
"You're really going to make me say it, aren't you?" Yuki sounded more amused than irritated.
"I thought about it," he repeated, murmuring the words into Shuichi's hair, "and I decided I would rather...go on the damn tour...than live without you annoying me for one week, let alone half a year."
Shuichi looked up at Yuki, laughing again despite himself. Classic. Even when Yuki was being sentimental, he still called Shuichi annoying.
"You're my annoyance," Yuki added.
And Shuichi supposed he could live with that.
Maybe it was time to try seduction again.
A/N: Edited once to fix some punctuation that somehow got lost when I uploaded. And yes, I know, kind of sub-standard. Pixel kept interrupting! (You'd be amazed how distracting it is to have a dog pants you. He's a weird dog, but he knows how to get my attention.) Hopefully it's still reasonably amusing.