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Fanfiction > Drama > Gravitation's Goad > Author: Aja Hits: 485
Disclaimer: I don’t own Gravitation. It is the property of Maki Murakami and I’m just going to keep borrowing the characters for fanfics. The only profit I get for fanfics is internal, because it’s illegal to externally profit from it.

Rated xXx: There will be chapters with sex and I will not spoil the surprise by posting warnings in the chapter headings. Please be aware that this is meant for mature readers. You’ve been warned.

This is the latest fic in the ABC series… making it Abc 8b. For ‘G’, I am splitting the fic into two simultaneous stories. This one will focus on Hiro/Matsuo and Bad Luck. Abc 8a will focus on Ryuichi/Tatsuha and Nittle Grasper. Some events of the two stories may intersect but you will not need to follow both, if you have no interest in ½ of the story! ;D

I will try to make this story understandable for people who haven’t read the previous seven fics. For those faithful readers who have stayed with the series from earlier days, you will have to put up with a bit of unnecessary explanation. Thanks for reading!


~Gravitation’s Goad~

1 : Baby-sitting


Hiro smiled and hummed, strumming on his guitar. Matsuo was painting again, and feeling better about himself since he’d begun seeing a therapist. Matsuo hadn’t been comfortable talking to a female psychiatrist, so he’d taken a recommendation for a male therapist. They had been meeting twice per week over the last month. Hiro thought the visits were helping his lover deal with his problems and the emotional knots associated with those. It was just too bad Bairei was still lurking around, Hiro thought. Matsuo’s creepy ex-boyfriend had a way of threatening the artist with a look— or just his presence— and evaporating the shreds of confidence and self-esteem Matsuo had been fighting hard to salvage.

Hiro paused in his guitar playing to tune a string, and he heard the phone ring. He looked up across the art studio at his lover; Matsuo gave no sign he’d even heard the phone. The other man usually ignored the phone when he was painting, though. Hiro ducked out from underneath his guitar strap and leaned the Gibson against the wall, so he was free to answer the phone. He had to stretch his legs to reach the kitchen phone by the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Hiro!” Shuichi gasped his name. “I’m so glad you’re home! I have a really big favor to ask you. Seguchi-san collapsed and Eiri wants to go see him. I really want to be with Eiri— he doesn’t like hospitals. My parents and Maiko are out of town, or we’d take Naora-chan over there. I’m really worried about Eiri. He’s really impatient right now and I don’t think it would be good for Naora to be at the hospital. Ryu’s there and Eiri called Mika-san, but—“

“Shuichi, slow down. Seguchi Tohma is in the hospital and . . . you want me to baby-sit your daughter?” Strangely, since Yuki and Shu had adopted the girl, both men had been taking parenthood very seriously.

“Would you? I mean, you and Matsuo? Just for a little while? We need to go there to find out how Seguchi-san—“ Shuichi cut himself off and yelled something away from the phone. It sounded indistinct, like his friend had covered the receiver when he yelled. Coming back to the phone, Shu questioned, “Hiro?”

“Yeah, we can baby-sit. We don’t have any plans or anything today. When will you bring her over?”

“Right away. Um . . . it will probably take about fifteen minutes to get over there, Eiri said.”

“Fifteen minutes? On Saturday afternoon? Yuki won’t be driving at the speed limit to make that kind of time.”

Hiro could practically hear Shu’s shrug. “He’s really worried.”

“Uh-huh,” Hiro said. He would like to ask Shuichi how he felt about the way his husband dropped everything to go to his ex-brother-in-law’s bedside. Shuichi would probably volunteer the information later, at length. Right now wasn’t the time for discussion. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks, Hiro! You’re the best! Bye!” Shu hung up and Hiro did, too. Then, Hiro looked around the kitchen and sighed. He felt neutrally about Seguchi Tohma, but the man’s collapse could have long-range effects on a lot of Hiro’s friends. Maybe he’d send Seguchi-san some get-well cranes or something. [1] He didn’t know which hospital Seguchi was at, and he made a mental note to ask Shuichi later.

Hiro walked down the hall of the apartment’s living area, back out into the studio where Matsuo was working. The painter didn’t look away from his canvas, but seemed to have a sense of when Hiro returned. “Who was on the phone?” He asked.

“So you *did* hear the phone,” Hiro jibed.

Matsuo flashed him a half-smile, glancing at Hiro from under the brim of the black baseball cap that kept his hair out of his eyes when he was working. “Of course I heard it. So who called?”

“Shuichi. We’re going to baby-sit Naora-chan today.”

Matsuo looked at Hiro again and stopped painting for a moment, paintbrush poised over his canvas. “We are? Why?”

Hiro picked up his guitar again and adjusted the shoulder strap while he answered. “Seguchi Tohma is in the hospital. Yuki and Shuichi want to go see him, but . . . Shu doesn’t want their daughter around . . .” Hiro waved his hand through the air.

Matsuo dropped the arm holding the paintbrush, agreeing, “Yeah, hospitals are depressing and there isn’t much for a child to do there, around a bunch of uptight adults. What will we do with her?”

“We could take her to the park down the street,” Hiro said. He sat on his stool and settled his guitar across his lap, watching Matsuo’s expression carefully. Matsuo frowned thoughtfully. The artist had been avoiding places where Bairei might be hanging around . . . which meant Matsuo had been spending a lot of time indoors. Hiro had been cautious about how much or how often he encouraged his lover to confront his fears.

“We could,” Matsuo tentatively agreed. “I don’t want to risk Naora, though. I don’t want her to attract his attention.” There was no need to say who ‘he’ was; Hiro understood how great Matsuo’s fear of Bairei was. It was both a practical statement and an excuse. Hiro ran his fingers over the guitar strings, teasing a slow tune from the instrument.

“I’ll ask Shuichi what he thinks when he drops Naora off, here. I know the girl is used to bodyguards, though. It wouldn’t be a big deal to just stay home, either,” Hiro offered.

Matsuo sighed. He lifted his paintbrush, gathered paint on its bristles and began applying color to the canvas again. After a moment, Matsuo snickered. “It’s a good thing Naora-chan is such a well-behaved child. The last time my sister Namiyo visited with her kids, I couldn’t get those brats out of here fast enough!”

Hiro chuckled. “There’s an age difference to consider, too. Your nephew is Namiyo’s eldest and the kid is only four. Akinori will probably never be as polite as Naora but he might shape-up a little in the next three years.”

“Hmm,” was Matsuo’s only comment. He smiled, though, and that was enough for Hiro.

Matsuo’s latest painting was taking shape. The artist had been acting as if his inspiration needed to make up for time spent away from the studio. Lately, Matsuo had been spending long hours in the studio and even turning lights on to continue working into the evening. It was strange, because since Hiro had known him, Matsuo had preferred to get up with first light in order to take full advantage of natural sunlight for his work, but he would quit whenever the sunlight dimmed. He disliked working under fluorescent lighting but recently, he’d been painting as if possessed.

For a while, Matsuo had isolated himself in depression and claimed he was uninspired. It had been a direct result of Bairei’s appearance over New Year’s and subsequent stalking of them both. Now, Hiro wondered if Matsuo wasn’t twisting himself in the exact opposite extreme— instead of avoiding work, the artist was letting work consume him to the exclusion of other things. Hiro was trying hard to keep his lover balanced. Fortunately, it wasn’t too difficult, because they honestly loved each other and both tried to compromise.

They passed nearly half an hour together in companionable quiet, before there was a knock on the door. Hiro set aside his guitar again to answer it. As expected, it was Sawamura’s face he saw first. “Thank you, Sawamura-san,” Hiro told Matsuo’s bodyguard. “Uesugi-san are expected.” [2] Sawamura nodded and stepped aside to reveal Shuichi and his adopted daughter, Naora.

“Hi, Hiro-san!” Naora said.

“Come in,” Hiro offered. Naora came inside and started removing her shoes and coat.

“I can’t,” Shu hedged. “Eiri’s waiting. He’s umm . . . “

“In a pissy mood?” Hiro supplied.

Shu laughed. “Yeah, he is.” The singer threw himself at Hiro and hugged him tightly. “Thanks for taking care of Naora-chan, Hiro.” Shu let him go and leaned around his body to wave at Matsuo. “Hello, Matsuo! Thanks!”

“No problem,” Matsuo called back.

Shu smiled and stepped forward to give his daughter one last hug before leaving. “Good-bye, Naora-chan. We’ll be back to get you this evening, okay?”

“Okay! ‘Bye, Daddy-Shuichi!” The girl had a back pack and she dragged it across the floor into the studio, unconcerned about her daddies’ departure. She walked right up to Matsuo and struck up a conversation.

Shuichi chuckled. “I’ll have no worries about leaving her with you guys. Have fun!”

“Oh, just a second. Shu, do you mind if we take her to the park? We’ll have a bodyguard with us . . .”

“Why not? We take her to the park all the time. We’ve had a couple of incidents, but we get that everywhere.” Shu shrugged. “It’s fine with me. I have to go— Eiri’s waiting. Thanks again, guys!” Shu called out loudly enough to be heard by both men. With a quick grin, he turned, hit the security door across the hall with both hands and pelted down the stairs. Hiro heard Shu’s footsteps hitting the stairs in a rapid staccato before the security door fell shut and cut off the sound.

Hiro nodded to Sawamura and closed the apartment’s front door. Naora was asking Matsuo about his paintings, “Did you make *all* these?” She turned around 360 degrees, eyes scanning the paintings on walls and propped against the walls.

“Yes, I did,” Matsuo answered. “There are some in the hall painted by friends of mine. If you’d like to see them, Hiro can show you.” Matsuo used his paintbrush to gesture in Hiro’s direction.

“Would *you* show me, please?” Naora asked.

Hiro laughed. It was obvious who her favorite baby-sitter was. “Matsuo is busy,” Hiro chided the girl gently. “This is his work. Your father writes at home and you can’t disturb him, right?” Naora nodded. “Matsuo paints at home. He can talk with us, but he needs to stay here to work. Will you settle for me showing you around?”

Naora nodded. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Akera-san,” she whispered.

Matsuo chuckled. “It’s okay, little bird. You’re not too disturbing, and you don’t need to whisper.” He winked at her and she went running over to Hiro.

Naora stopped short of running into Hiro and smiled up at him with a blush across her cheeks. “He called me ‘little bird’! Do you think I’m a little bird?”

“Would you like to be called a little bird?” Hiro asked. She nodded and blushed some more. Hiro laughed. “Alright, little bird, let’s look at those paintings.” Hiro led the way into the apartment. “You’re a bit short to see the ones on the wall properly. I’ll lift you up.” Hiro hoisted the girl up and she squealed a bit. He settled her in a high, seated position on his left arm.

“You’re tall! Sometimes Daddy-Shuichi puts me on his shoulders, but he’s not as tall as you.” Naora wiggled a bit on Hiro’s arm, to look at the paintings. “I like that one,” the girl said, throwing her body weight behind one pointing finger. “The sunset,” she clarified.

Hiro brought her closer to the painting. “It is a nice painting,” Hiro agreed.

“I like the colors. They look like real sky. I saw the sunrise on New Year’s!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I was really tired though and I went back to sleep after I looked. The kotatsu was warm. Who’s that lady?” Naora lunged toward a framed photo and Hiro took her closer to see it.

“That’s a photo of Matsuo’s sisters. The lady on the right is Yamakage Namiyo and the one on the left is Akera Shiori.”

“Yamakage-san has a nice smile. Akera-san is pretty, but she doesn’t look very happy. She has long, pretty hair. If they’re sisters, how come Yamakage-san has a different name than Akera-san?”

“It’s because she is married. When women marry, they change their names to become part of their husband’s family.”

“Oh. That’s why Daddy-Shuichi’s parents and sister are Shindou-san, but his name is Uesugi like Daddy-Eiri’s, right?”

“Right,” Hiro agreed. What a strange conversation, he reflected.

“You don’t have the same name as Akera-san. You’re like Uncle Tatsuha and Ryu-san, right? Daddy-Eiri says Ryu-san isn’t really part of the Uesugi family.” Naora looked at Hiro expectantly.

Hiro scratched his head. “I guess so,” he said. “It’s true Matsuo and me aren’t married.”

“Uncle Tatsuha and Ryu-san don’t live in the same place,” Naora told him. “I think that’s sad. My daddies get sad when they have to be in different cities. Do you get sad when you and Akera-san have to be in different cities?”

“Yes, that would make me sad,” Hiro said. He didn’t even have to be in a different city. Before he had moved in with Matsuo; just being away from his lover had made Hiro ache for the artist’s presence. Fortunately, Matsuo had been able to come with Bad Luck on their last concert tour and he’d been able to come to their video shoot locations. A very flexible schedule was a huge benefit to being in love with a free-lance artist, Hiro thought.

Naora nodded with the wisdom of a serious seven-year old. “You can put me down now, Hiro-san.” Obligingly, Hiro set her on her feet. “Um, do you have snacks?” She asked.

“Let’s go see,” Hiro invited her. He took her into the kitchen and set her up with a glass of juice and some pretzels. She sat at the table, munching pretzels and swinging her feet. Hiro sat across from her. “After snack, would you like to go to the park?”

“Could I sit and draw while Akera-san paints? I won’t bother him. I can be very good and quiet! I don’t bug Daddy-Eiri when I draw or color in his study. I brought some markers and paper and stuff.”

“Is that what you want to do? We have a really good park down the street . . . “ Hiro encouraged her. He’d been hoping Matsuo would go outside for the girl’s sake even if he wouldn’t leave the apartment for his own fears.

Naora looked at the floor and didn’t answer. After a moment, she asked, “Hiro-san? Do you have a sister?”

“No. I have a brother, though. His name is Nakano Yuji.”

“Daddy-Shuichi and Daddy-Eiri both have sisters, like Akera-san. I don’t have a sister. My mommy never had another kid and my daddies don’t want another kid.” Naora’s dark blue eyes looked up and met Hiro’s brown eyes. “Will you and Akera-san have a kid?” Hiro felt his own eyes widen in surprise and his jaw drop. “Did I say something wrong?” Naora asked hurriedly. “I’m sorry!” She bowed her head deeply. “Daddy-Shuichi says it’s better to say loud out what you want to know. Sometimes it’s not the right thing to do and I say too much. I’m sorry!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hiro told her, recovering his expression. “It’s okay to ask me. I just don’t know the answer. I was surprised by the question, that’s all.”

“You’re not mad?” Naora asked, timidly.

Hiro smiled at her. “I’m not mad.”

Naora blinked at him. “You don’t know if you want kids?”

Hiro shrugged. He and Matsuo had joked about how seeing Namiyo’s kids once or twice a year was plenty. He hadn’t talked to Matsuo seriously about children, though. Thinking about what Shuichi had gone through in the process of adopting Naora, he wasn’t certain he wanted to pursue adoption. Hiro had always had some vague idea of siring children, but things had changed. “I don’t know,” he repeated to Naora.

“I think you should. You should get a girl, so we can play together,” Naora told him.

Hiro laughed with sudden understanding of her childish reasoning. “I don’t know of any little girls who live in this building, but we might be able to find one your age at the park,” Hiro offered.

“Um, will Akera-san come, too?”

“Yes.” Hiro winked at her. “I’ll pull him away from painting for a little while.”

“Yay! That’s what Daddy-Shuichi and I do to Daddy-Eiri!” Naora jumped down from her chair. “Thank you for the snack! I’ll go put my coat on!”


***

[1] There is a legend which says that if you fold 1, 000 origami cranes; you will live a long and healthy life. Bundles of ‘get-well cranes’ are often gifted to the ill.

[2] There is no plural form in Japanese; besides, sans means ‘without’.

***

End Note: This time, I’m going to be posting chapters at the pace of my wonderful beta-readers, Patosan and Bakayarona . . . and they have lives outside of fanfics. ^_^; Thank you for your patience!
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