Title: Imperfection
Rating: T
Pairing(s): Dark/Daisuke
Genre: Romance / General

Summary: (DarkDaisuke) As an artist, he wanted to find someone whose looks and personality were beyond unparalleled; wanted raw perfection in the form of a human being. What he found was someone he actually needed: a loud, obnoxious kleptomaniac named Dark.

Okay… What the fuck am I doing with another story under my belt? Well…I'm kicking ass, that's what I'm doing! Er – well at least I like to pride myself into thinking I'm kicking ass. For all I know, I could really suck and have thousands of people out for my blood because of my lack of writing skills… Uh. Yeah. That seems a wee bit more plausible.

So what the fuck am I doing with another story? Well I'm majorly sucking and unintentionally making people lust after my blood! How 'bout that, aye? x)

Anyway… I deleted Magnolia because when I started it, I was in a smutty mood. But then I realized… Fuuuudge, I'm an innocent little virgin flower! …/cough/ By which I mean, I'm not about to write smut that my sister could very easily stumble upon while on the computer… So I was pretty sad…until I thought of this. T-T And that made me even more sad…because the plot bunnies totally ganged up on me and forced this at me. There goes all my concentration for Why The Caged Bird Sings. xC Oh my… This won't bode well with my reviewers… xD Well anywhoosle… I suppose you can read it if you want… x)

- - - - - -

Niwa Daisuke smiled at the girl before him. Of course, the slight twitch of his right eye and the strain barely showing on his lips revealed the falsity of his smile.

Sure, she was absolutely beautiful, what with her long brown hair, her sparkling hazel eyes, and her slim, curvy body, but she was also absolutely exhausting. Her voice was high pitched – at moments, it was bordering on the point of shrill – and she used her voice quite a bit; her mere presence had started to grate on his nerves twenty minutes into their date.

But then again, it wasn't quite a date. It was more of an interview.

Daisuke's smile faded a little and he cleared his throat, causing Harada Risa to close her mouth in the middle of her life story. (Really, she had only been asked to explain why she had been half an hour late.) "Oh…I'm sorry, Niwa-kun."

"Not at all, Harada-san. So I was just wondering… How did you come across my number in the first place?"

Risa's eyes lit up and Daisuke found himself admiring their unique chocolaty shade. "Well, I found it in the newspaper. It said that the great artist Niwa Daisuke needed a new muse. Erm…I've been told that I could be a model by some friends, so I thought, 'Why not?'"

Daisuke eyes hardened a bit. 'Why not?' Who does this girl think she is? Instead of voicing his displeasure, Daisuke smiled again. "Ah, of course. I had forgotten that Saehara written that article on me…" He murmured the last part to himself, staring somewhere past Risa's head.

"So…um… Do I pass?" Her voice was sweet; it was almost too sweet, actually.

The artist leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his locks of wild red hair. "Harada-san, you are by far one of the most beautiful women I have interviewed in the last year." She beamed at that, but the praise didn't seem to phase her at all. "However, I expect much from my future muse. After all, I plan to spend most of my available time with my muse." He couldn't help but notice the way her round eyes raked over his form. "I can't very well have the epitome of beauty by my side at all times…" She beamed again. "…And feel like hanging myself every time she decides to talk."

Risa's mouth dropped open, and Daisuke found this look more than unbecoming on her. That would simply not do.

"Wha…what?"

"I am terribly sorry, Harada-san." Daisuke stood, smiling sheepishly. "I've been told that I'm rather blunt when I'm at my wit's end… I'm not usually like this, of course." Placing several bills on the tabletop, he nodded to the brunette. "I should go. It was…nice meeting you, dear."

The redhead walked out of the quaint little café, shoving his hands into his pockets nonchalantly. As he strolled down the sidewalk, he could feel a slight prickling at the back of his mind…as though someone was trailing after him…

Daisuke spared a quick glance behind him to check on Risa, who was still sitting shell shocked in the café, using this movement as an excuse to quickly scan the street for anyone suspicious. A flash of dark brown caught his attention before slipping into an alley, and his eyes narrowed.

Pulling one hand out of his pocket – and with it, his cellular phone – the young man pressed the first number on his speed dial. The other line rang twice before an overly cheerful voice filled his right ear. "Niiiiiiwa! Why hello there, little buddy!"

Daisuke rolled his eyes dramatically, sighing into the phone. "Saehara… Get over here."

"But…I'm all the way in Kansai, reporting at…eh…Comic Con! …Yeah, that'll do…"

"Last I checked, Comic Con is still three months away. And even if I were wrong, then I'm sure it's not in an alley between a bookstore and a florist in the middle of the Azumano district." Daisuke turned around to face the alley where he had seen the brown blur disappear into, and predictably, famed newspaper journalist Saehara Takeshi appeared out from behind the florist, grinning widely with a cell phone in his hand.

"Why, what a coincidence!" the brunette sang, shoving his phone into his pocket hurriedly. "What are you doing here, Niwa?"

Daisuke glared at the over-enthusiastic man before withering into a defeated slump. "Saehara… Did you track me into the café during my interview with Harada-san?"

Takeshi grinned brightly, skipping towards the redhead and slinging a friendly arm around his shoulder. "Randomly stopping by for a quick snack…going through your home phone's answering machine to find out where you'd be at this time today…isn't it all the same?"

Daisuke couldn't help but smile at his friend's infectious attitude. "You are out of control."

"And that's why you love me! Now tell me, Niwa: why'd you turn down the hottie? She was smokin'!"

Daisuke blanched. "Well sure she was. But ten minutes with her and you start wanting to go to the gun range…"

Takeshi stared wide-eyed at his friend. "To shoot her?" He pulled his arm back to his side protectively. "Yeesh, she's that bad?"

"No! To get those earmuff things that block out all the noise…"

"Earmuffs things?" Takeshi grinned and laughed. "Yeah, because that's what they're called nowadays."

Daisuke tried his best to glare. "You know what I mean!"

Takeshi rolled his eyes. "That aside, you need to stop being so damn picky. Just pick a damn girl and paint!"

Daisuke recoiled defensively, mouth set in a grimace. "Painting and reporting are two different things. I can't just pull the painter in me out of nowhere, with no inspiration whatsoever!"

"Are you saying what I do isn't hard?" Takeshi asked incredulously.

"No, no! Of course it's not. But you have inspiration literally everywhere. When you used to report things on live TV, you had the inspiration right behind you. The chaos of natural disasters or a swarming crime scene; you had all that right at your disposal, and you could use that to describe to the people what was going on. And now, when you write for the newspaper, you do research and you look for the facts in order to do your job right."

Takeshi nodded in understanding. "Yeah, and so?"

"And so," Daisuke said, "isn't that what I'm doing, in my own weird way? While you look for the facts that would most definitely help your articles, I'm looking for a muse to help me with my art. When you worked for channel 4, you had your inspiration; I need to find mine. Painting, reporting…two different things."

"Well I understand that, Niwa. But really…how hard is it to find the inspiration you're looking for?"

Daisuke let out a rueful sigh. "Surprisingly hard. I guess I am pretty picky," he admitted as an afterthought. "But I want my muse to be perfect."

"That girl at the café looked pretty perfect."

"Yes, she did." Daisuke didn't even try to hide the adoration in his voice. "She had great proportions, healthy and glossy hair, expressive eyes, and a great sense of style –" He ignored Takeshi's snort at his being oh so metro at the moment. "– but that's where her perfection ended. I'm looking for someone…perfect. Like, perfect perfect."

"Perfect perfect," Takeshi repeated, the confusion etched visibly into his features.

"I'm looking for someone who looks beautiful and behaves beautiful too. I don't just want someone stunning on the outside with an ugly inside. And you know my definition of ugly…"

Takeshi gave a lopsided grin. "Your definition of ugly is anything that you don't like."

Daisuke laughed. "Yeah… So I don't want her – or him – to be annoying or loud or mean or airheaded or snobbish. You know me. I'm mostly quiet and subdued…I would like someone like that, who wouldn't upset my balance of life. But the quiet ones I meet are too quiet. They're too shy. Then I meet the loud ones, and they make me cringe. The mean snobs are…mean snobs, obviously, and the airheads disappoint me so badly."

Takeshi nodded in understanding again, but his eyes were conflicting. "But Niwa…you can't possibly find the perfect person. There's no such thing."

Daisuke sighed. "That's what they all tell me. But I'm going to try. I know that the person I'm looking for is out there…"

The wise expression on the brunette's face faded into his usual cheeky smile. "Don't pull that woe-is-me aspiring poet act on me. You sound like you're looking for a potential wife!"

"Or husband," Daisuke added, knowing that Takeshi knew of and accepted his bisexuality. The reporter was his best friend, after all, and he trusted him with all his secrets despite his rather loose lips.

"Exactly!"

"Well I know what you're thinking, and you're such a pervert!"

"Well what else am I supposed to be thinking? You're gonna be spending all your time with some hot chick or…man, and of course we both know where that'll lead you."

"I am not going to go banging my muse. They're there for inspiration…"

"Uh huh… Right."

"Saehara, shut it!" Daisuke was slowly turning red, which made the reporter almost giggle with glee. He loved to tease his best friend.

Shaking his head laughingly, Takeshi smirked. "As much as I'd like to continue discussing your sexual deviousness ("WHAT?"), Menou's expecting me home by two. I'll see you later?"

Sighing in defeat, Daisuke nodded. "Yeah. My gallery exhibition at the museum is tonight. I'll see you at ten – and don't be late this time!"

"Make no promises, break no promises!" Takeshi recited sagely before running off.

- - - - - -

Mousy Dark ambled through the darkened corridors of the museum, staring up at the artwork that was dutifully displayed on the walls. They were all old classics made by ancient Japanese men and he found no interest in any of them. They were so…cliché. Each had that Oriental vibe, balding royal men with thin moustaches, and magnificent pagodas. Sure, he found them nice to look at, but as a thief, he was well aware of the fact that he already owned quite a bit of this kind of art.

There were only so many Tale of Genji­-esque paintings one could stomach before the indifference towards them set it.

Dark sighed inaudibly and continued to prowl. His movements were smooth and graceful and he noted the difference between Mousy Dark the citizen and Dark the mysterious Phantom Thief. The scouting out of potential new additions to his extensive collection was conducted by him both as a citizen and a thief; the only difference was his timing. As an everyday florist whom no one would suspect of any foul play, he visited the museum on his free afternoons and walked around like a tourist. However, at night, he slipped in after hours with the stealth of a cat in order to further study whatever had caught his attention during daylight.

After all, it wouldn't help his inconspicuous citizen image to intensely stare at some random piece of art with longing written on his features. He wasn't too skilled at hiding his emotions, and want was almost always plastered on his face.

Just as the thief checked his watch for the time, a booming voice echoed throughout the museum, making Dark freeze with his wrist still bent towards his eyes. 10:00.

"Welcome to Niwa-san's first official gallery showing, minna-san! This is a very great honor for our museum, seeing that after many years of painting, he had actually chosen our humble building for his exhibit. I'll hand the mic over to our resident prodigy and let him say a few words before you are welcomed to walk around."

Dark followed the sound of polite applause downstairs and to the ground floor of the museum. It was extravagantly decorated and bathed in light, despite the fact that the entire place had been closed for the day. Perhaps this was the reason why?

Suddenly, Dark felt small and underdressed alongside the rest of the people in the room. While he wore a black dress shirt and a pair of tight leather pants, everyone else was either in a coat-and-tie outfit or a dress. Hey, it wasn't as if he fixed himself up to go prowling around in the dark.

While murmuring darkly to himself about the dress code he hadn't been informed about, a small man with spiky red hair caught Dark's attention. The redhead smiled at everyone fondly, a slight flush marring his young face, before holding a microphone up to his mouth.

"I would like to thank you all for coming to my little gallery exhibition. It's quite an honor for me to be showcasing at this museum, actually. Uhm… Well I guess you've read about me in the papers or something, so I needn't talk about myself too much now… Well…" The redhead blushed even darker. "I guess you can walk around."

There was another round of applause, during which Dark chuckled quietly. For such a great painter, the young man didn't have much confidence. Oh yes, he knew the man. Despite his rather timid and unpretentious speech, the man was famous all across Japan as Niwa Daisuke, the great painter who was discovered at the mere age of fourteen. Why he had waited so long to finally hold a showcase, no one knew.

But it was a great honor to be invited to it; the museum, the day, the time, and even the county the galleria was to be held in had been top secret to ensure that no outsiders had a chance of attending. Even the hottest gossip magazine hadn't been able to get any of the information.

Dark scoffed as he walked around the floor. It seemed a little obvious that the artist would want to showcase in his hometown; but then again, everyone overlooked the obvious.

Shining violet eyes took in meticulously framed artworks with appreciation. He was surprised at how much of an interest he was taking in the Niwa's work. Normally, he found modern art a little less exciting than the old works; however, Daisuke's art was very good. Very good.

"Good, huh?" A voice snapped Dark from his thoughts and he almost jumped.

Shrugging off the facts that he was an art thief, that he hadn't been invited to the gallery, and that he had mistakenly ended up there because he had been sneaking around the museum after hours, Dark smiled widely. He radiated nothing but charm and finesse. "More than good, if I may say so." He turned towards the speaker and was filled with an odd sense of recognition.

"Yes, Niwa is quite the genius with a brush, isn't he?" The brunette man beside him flashed him a quick smile, revealing what looked like a fang, but it could have just been Dark's imagination. "I'm Saehara Takeshi, a reporter for the Times."

Dark nodded in greeting. The name was more than familiar, but he was sure that he had seen the reporter in person somewhere. "I'm Mousy Dark…an avid art fan." Oh ho ho, the other man had no idea just how avid he was about art.

"Ah, aren't we all…"

The two fell silent after that and about a minute later, Takeshi walked away. He mingled with the crowd of fancy-looking aristocrats until all Dark could see was his blob of brown hair.

Suddenly, it hit him, and Dark felt like laughing. He remembered where he had seen the man before. It had been earlier that day, a little past one, when a very wild-looking brunette had run up to his flower shop and into the alley beside it. He had found it incredibly odd, but brushed it off as a natural occurrence. The man had resurfaced after maybe a minute or so before skipping back into the street and out of Dark's sight.

Laughingly, Dark moved on to a different painting. This one entranced him just as much as the previous one had and soon enough, he felt a familiar bubbling sensation fill him.

Oh great. This is just what I need right now…

But Dark couldn't deny the feeling; he wanted Daisuke's art. He wanted a Niwa Daisuke work. The thief grinned to himself mischievously, not noticing the slightly shorter man who had appeared beside him.

"My first portrait…"

The spoken words once again jarred Dark from his own mind, pulling him back into the real word. He turned to face his newest approach, only to mentally reel back in surprise. Vibrantly scarlet hair immediately assaulted his vision and his purple eyes widened in surprise for a second.

Hiding his shock, Dark smirked towards the famed artist and nodded encouragingly. "Really? It looks too good to be a first of anything…" he admitted.

Daisuke looked up and smiled. "Yeah… I had been drawing a bunch of still life and stuff from my own imagination, so I thought it was time for some change. I asked my friend to pose for me…and this was the result."

"Quite a good result, too," Dark added, gazing back at the portrait of a gorgeous man whose crystalline blue hair matched his icy eyes.

Daisuke shrugged. "I guess…"

Dark stared at the artist silently, as though contemplating him, before said man looked up at him and arched an elegant eyebrow.

"This is weird."

"Why so?"

Daisuke shuffled and tugged at his black tie. "You're not fawning over me."

Dark nearly let out a bark of laughter. "Am I supposed to be fawning over you?"

Daisuke flushed, abandoning his tie and waving both hands out in front of him to illustrate a negative response. "No, no! It's just that…everyone does. It's so tiring."

"I'd bet it would be," Dark said. He could sympathize with the young man. He remembered his four years of high school; he was very familiar with the feeling of being obsessed over, and it certainly wasn't fun – especially when crazed fangirls decided to do the obsessing.

Daisuke nodded slowly to himself before meeting Dark's gaze again. "What was your name again?"

"Mousy Dark," Dark answered back immediately.

Daisuke smiled and turned around. "I really should be mingling with my other guests, all of whom I invited personally…" he said softly, his back facing Dark. "Thank you for coming, Mousy-san. But next time…" His head swiveled around shortly and he winked. "You'll be needing your own invitation."

Almost gaping like a fish, Dark watched Daisuke walk away from him. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but eye the way his hips sashayed as he walked. Oh yes… He thought devilishly to himself. He definitely wanted a Niwa Daisuke.

- - - - - -

Killah: Well…this chapter is more of a prologue-filler thingy, but I don't think I did too badly on it. :D I'm actually really surprised it got so gosh darn long! And there isn't even any fluff or shounen-ai in it… :O I'm a total freak for dialogue, in case you couldn't tell, so I guess that's how all these words ended up eating the page. Oh my. Oh goodness. Oh geez. Oh no. Oh wow.

Oh – review. :D Just pop me a "You crazy whore, stop writing" or an "Omg continue" and I'll be happy. Love you!