Title: Just for You
Author: DC, Dave
Warnings: Err, slight boy x boy.
Disclaimer: Don't own the series. Just borrow it for short periods of insanity. ~_^
A/N: Thanks to Aja for the beta. No Shuichi's were harmed in the making of this fanfiction.
~*~
Eiri stared at his living room and scratched the back of his head. Something was different and he couldn't quite figure out what it happened to be. Studying the floor and walls, he paced in front of the coffee table and lit a fresh cigarette to jump-start his nicotine-deprived brain.
On his second circuit of the room, he picked up the ashtray from the end table and flicked the tip of his cigarette into it. The novelist glared when he heard the pitter patter of little idiot feet signaling Shuichi trying to sneak up behind him. "YUKI! Guess what!" Shuichi stated loudly right beside of Eiri.
Eiri sighed and tried to pry Shuichi's arms off his waist so he could continue pacing. He couldn't budge the tight grip the singer had and grudgingly accepted the invasion of his space for the moment. "I don't care," Eiri growled.
"Sure you do. Now guess what!" Shuichi said again with a pleading look for Eiri to pay attention.
"No."
"But—" Shuichi wibbled.
Eiri rubbed his temples and looked down at Shuichi. "What," the author finally muttered without any enthusiasm.
"I bought you a special gift and put it in here so when you look at it you think about me. This way when I'm at work and you're stuck at home slaving in your stuffy office we'll still be together. All you have to do is step out and –" Shuichi stopped in mid speech when Eiri clamped a hand over his mouth.
"You call me a dozen times a day. My cell phone is flooded with moronic text messages from you. My inbox is full of those greeting cards you always have to send me. I don't need a reminder of your annoying presence," Eiri replied blandly. He lifted his hand when Shuichi licked his palm. The author made a disgusted face and wiped the slobber off on Shuichi's shirt with a smirk.
"But you might forget me. Do you think about me all the time?" Shuichi asked with wide eyes.
Eiri glared and flopped down on the sofa. "How can I forget your ugly face if you won't go away?" he pointed out.
"Yukiiii," Shuichi whined. He crawled onto the sofa beside the grumbling author and snuggled up to his side. Eiri's arm automatically went around the singer's narrow shoulders and pulled him as close as possible. "I'm not ugly! So, you take that back right now," Shuichi demanded.
Eiri smirked and ground his cigarette out into the ashtray. He leaned forward enough to set the tray onto the coffee table before settling against the sofa cushions. Shuichi immediately pressed against his side and Eiri's arm folded back around the singer. "What the hell did you put in here?" the author asked at last.
Shuichi grinned secretively and hummed with feigned innocence. His fingers meandered underneath Eiri's shirt and rubbed at his stomach. Glancing up at his lover, Shuichi tilted his head to the side and wrinkled his nose. "I'm not telling until you take it back," the singer decided.
"Fine. You're not ugly," Eiri replied with a twitch of his lips. Shuichi eyed him suspiciously and lightly poked the center of his stomach. "You're obnoxiously ugly."
Shuichi pulled away from Eiri and rubbed the back of his own head. He reached out and painfully twisted Eiri's nipple before scrambling off the sofa when the author made a grab for him. Eiri stood up and headed straight for Shuichi with a menacing growl. The singer headed around the coffee table and kept the author circling it for several minutes in a comical fashion until Eiri stopped moving. Shuichi pushed against him and felt Eiri's arms immediately hold him tightly against the blond's chest.
"Why do you have to say such mean things to me all the time?" Shuichi wailed. He flailed against Eiri and didn't notice the surprised expression his lover gave him.
Eiri stared down at Shuichi and frowned. "You're exaggerating," he finally said.
"Am not," Shuichi remarked.
"You are," Eiri murmured and ignored Shuichi's sniffling.
"Am. Not."
Eiri knew they could go on like this for a while if he didn't put a stop to it quickly. He loosened his grip on Shuichi and lifted a hand to his own forehead. Eiri rubbed his temples and along the bridge of his nose to ease the headache forming right behind his eyes. "Stop that," Eiri ordered.
Shuichi grinned in spite of the unshed tears shining at the corners of his eyes. "Stop what?" he asked with the start of a teasing tone to his voice.
"You know what," Eiri answered crisply. He lowered his hand and held Shuichi loosely to his chest.
"Nuh-uh!" Shuichi said in a singsong. He squirmed out of Eiri's grip and backtracked to the sofa. Flopping down on it, his eyes flicked to the corner of the room before immediately returning to Eiri. The author caught the motion and turned in the direction of Shuichi's glance. Eiri stared and sat down on the sofa with a completely flabbergasted expression.
"What in the hell is that doing on my wall and what did you do with the picture I had up there?" Eiri asked. Just when the author thought Shuichi couldn't surprise him, the idiot pulled a fast one on him.
Shuichi bounced on the edge of the furniture and grabbed Eiri's hand. He squeezed it and turned it so he could kiss the back. Grinning up at Eiri and bursting with limitless energy, Shuichi beamed with pride at catching Eiri completely off guard. "Don't you like it? I picked it out especially for you. K-san told me there's one in every home in the United States. It's as American as mud pie," Shuichi gloated triumphantly.
"Apple," Eiri supplied. He pushed off the sofa and jerked his hand out of Shuichi's grasp in the process. Moving up to the painting Shuichi had obviously hung on the wall in place of his tasteful one, Eiri glared at the monstrosity of bad taste.
"Apple?" Shuichi asked. He moved up behind Eiri and uneasily bit at his lower lip.
"Yes. Apple pie," Eiri muttered. "Forget about the pie. Remind me to borrow K's gun and shoot him with it later."
"You can't shoot K-san! He's my manager," Shuichi yelped and tugged at Eiri's arm.
Eiri smirked at Shuichi and gestured to the picture. "I can if I want too. He's an even bigger idiot than you are if he thought I want this thing hanging in my living room," Eiri fussed.
"The dogs are kind of cute and you like card games!" Shuichi declared defensively.
Eiri rolled his eyes and snorted lightly. "Dogs playing poker is the most tasteless, gaudy, ugly, fucked up subject for a supposed piece of artwork I've ever seen!"
"You don't like it?" the singer asked as he ran his fingers over Eiri's arm.
"I hate it," Eiri answered flatly.
Shuichi's lower lip trembled and the waterworks threatened to leak out again. He stepped away from his lover and studied Eiri closely. Hesitantly, Shuichi reached up and cupped the sides of Eiri's face. The singer sniffled as he ran his thumbs along Eiri's cheekbones. Eiri groaned inwardly because he knew this wouldn't end well.
"You hate me," Shuichi said. He deflated and dropped his hands to his sides. Eiri scowled and felt his expression soften with some indefinable emotion stabbing at his chest.
"I hate the picture. I don't hate you," he admitted easily enough. Shuichi looked up suspiciously and poked at Eiri's chest with his forefinger.
"That means you love me," Shuichi decided in one of his illogical jumps in reasoning.
Eiri shrugged and twitched at the sight of the artwork on his wall. "Think whatever the hell you want as long as that painting is no longer defiling my wall," Eiri murmured.
"Oooo. I'll pick out a better one for—" Shuichi eeped softly when Eiri smacked him upside the back of his head.
"No, you won't. The old one is going back up there," Eiri said. Shuichi pouted and perked up when a brilliant idea hit him. He grinned at his lover and lightly rubbed his back.
"We'll pick a new one out together," Shuichi decided.
"Together."
"I live here and it's the least you could do for me. It won't kill you and you might even enjoy it," the singer pointed out.
"Oh, shut up. I'll go just to keep you from buying an even worse picture to stick up there," Eiri growled. Shuichi beamed up at him and proceeded to take the painting off the wall with a little help from his taller companion.
Eiri sold the picture of the dogs playing poker to Tatsuha. His brother never suspected it didn't come out of Ryuichi Sakuma's bedroom and Eiri never enlightened him. |