How do I love thee?

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #08 - Kitchen

marika_kailaya — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 04:08:05 GMT

Title: The Wine Isn't Poisoned But the Smiles Are
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #08 - Kitchen
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Liang Wang-ai decides that the parents of his best friend probably eat puppies. Live puppies. Or something.
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

He finds them in the kitchen, stumbling downstairs at one in the morning to get a drink for his sore throat—it's always so warm in Ray's room, it drives Liang crazy.

And it's not that Liang ever expected them to be sleeping or anything. In fact, it did once occur to him that Yuku at least never sleeps at all. Evil never sleeps, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

He just didn't expect them to be standing so calmly by the kitchen table, laughing and—Liang supposes it's the lights and his sleepy eyes—all but glowing with something like fire.

Oh. There are lit candles all over the table. That explains it. Sort of.

Yuku is dressed as he was earlier in red silk and black leather, barefoot and one hand holding a wine glass full of liquid the colour of blood. In the light he looks something more than human. He is smiling, and in the flickering shadows the flames make in the darker corners of the room, he reminds Liang of a fox.

What gets Liang, however, is that Yuku's other hand is resting atop a flame. Directly on the flame. No two ways about it. Liang stops at the bottom of the stairs and rubs his eyes, but the scene doesn't change. And as he looks on, he sees Meki, still in beige cashmere and still with a pen behind his ear, glance down at Yuku's hand on the candle, frowning in disapproval. Yuku follows Meki's eyes, says something in a language Liang does not understand at all, and flicks his fingers towards Meki.

Liang swears the flames follow, but the only result is that suddenly Yuku's burned hand is wrapped around Meki's wrist, and Meki is setting down his own glass, quite hard. Wine sloshes over the side. Meki is in considerable pain; Liang can see that much.

"Dance with me," Yuku demands, his eyes glittering, and Meki looks like he is about to say something, maybe, Liang hopes, something like "oh my god my husband is a pyromaniac, this could be a serious burn, we need to go to a hospital!"

But then Meki just laughs and follows Yuku into a complicated waltz-type dance that also looks painful to Liang, and Liang finally has to cough and walk slowly into the kitchen.

Meki and Yuku cease their dance, and turn to smile at Liang as he shuffles over to the tap, picking up a clean glass from the counter on his way.

"Good evening, my dear child," Yuku says, as though he is pleased in one aspect at having a half-asleep, already seemingly unnerved for reasons Yuku does not know, Liang to torment, and concerned in another. "Why are you awake?"

"Water," Liang answers, stuttering a little. "Just wanted some water. Sore throat."

Meki considers this, picking up his glass again and sipping from it for a moment. "You know, you can turn the heater in Ray's room down. He's asleep, yes?"

"Y-yeah."

"He won't notice, then!"

Liang looks at them as he drinks his water. He thinks, predator. There is something wrong here. There are candles. There is wine. There are burn marks on hands and wrists. There is mad laughter and strangely slanted eyes and—

On the wall, they make shadows, and the shadows are different, there's something wrong with the shadows—

Meki's smile makes Liang want to run away.

"Is that all, my dear?" Yuku asks him, running his hand absently over the row of candle flames.

Yuku has teeth. Liang is not sure if Yuku has properly noticed this before, but even when Yuku is smiling kindly and offering to help you, he has teeth. They are perfectly normal teeth. It's just that somehow, on Yuku, they look like prime murder weapons.

Liang does not say anything. He sets his glass in the sink and walks as quickly away as he can without seeming too rude.

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #11 - Game

marika_kailaya — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 02:53:24 GMT

Title: Three Cheers for What?
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #11 - Game
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Meki is a cock-rotting piece of worthless Something In French and his husband is ultimately aware that the cat will disagree if Yuku attempts to forcefeed Meki to it.
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.
Notes: References this. Yes, I started writing this years back. Yes, I'm only just now finishing it. Hush. Please be aware: If you are New to this 'verse, this will offend you. Possibly quite.

It started with Meki saying, "I demand a rematch."

No, actually, it started twenty-three years ago when Meki, wearing jeans and swearing he'd never played tennis in his life, defeated him, even though he was just sober enough to still have no coordination. So Yuku, swearing it was an accident, broke his nose.

And Laoidheach admonished him for breaking another friend's nose, and later Yuku was trying to help his own son's stalker issue by saying that no, see, he'd been stalked once, and it was all right, because Yuku had broken his nose in a tennis match for revenge.

And Meki had overheard that. There'd been a brief battle, which neither had really won, but later, examining a bruise, Meki had said, "I demand a rematch."

And now they were on a tennis court.

They were both in jeans, which, if Yuku was to go by the idea that his husband had lied and was actually some fucking tennis genius, just put Yuku at more of a disadvantage.

On the other hand, Yuku had spent the last couple decades, say, scrambling up onto roofs and jumping off them later at a run. Meki had written some romance novels and killed a demon lord in an explosion of blood and fire.

Whatever.

It was too hot for this, even though it was almost dark, and honestly neither of them were sure they were allowed to be stealing a secondary school tennis court, especially not now that a small crowd had gathered to watch them in mostly confusion.

No authorities, however.

Yuku kept hitting the ball, and Meki kept returning it like this wasn't even work for a man who had been half-paralysed not even that many years ago, while Yuku dripped sweat and listened to bones he'd broken before crack. It was almost too hard to even see the ball, but the three or four people standing around were unmistakably on Meki's side.

Meki did not stop smiling once.

Yuku would break his skull.

Er. Yes. Yuku was plotting how to go about doing that when it occurred to him that his novelist was only getting farther ahead of him while he seethed.

He snapped back to attention not especially in time to see the ball before it slammed into his nose with what could've been all the weight of a six foot four lunatic behind it. He fell from the sheer pain about the same time the weight of a six foot four lunatic did land on him, blood already pouring into his open mouth before he could crack open his eyes to see Meki smiling down at him.

He spit out blood without bothering to turn away. Meki barely blinked.

Rotten. Bastard.

The group was disappearing very, very quickly; Yuku didn't even have to start shouting before they were all gone.

"You broke my fucking nose, you ungrateful cock-rotting piece of worthless—" Yuku sat up, shoving Meki away from him, forced to stop speaking in the hopes of not choking on his own blood.

"I've never seen your nose bleed so much," Meki said pleasantly. He dodged Yuku's fist with far too much ease.

Yuku's eyes were watering, in his defense; it was difficult to see even such an enormous target as his husband.

"I will—" Yuku began, spitting out more blood, this time on the ground beside him and not on Meki, "—unleash all the power of all the gods in their graves—" His body jerked to the side without his permission.

"I think," Meki interrupted, standing up and hauling Yuku with him, pulling back Yuku's head and wrapping something cloth or other—Yuku couldn't see what—around his nose, "that you are losing too much blood. Perhaps a doctor is in order."

Yuku wrenched one of his hands loose from Meki and smashed it half-blindly into Meki's shoulder. "Motherfucker." The next few sentences were terribly garbled French.

"No doctor, then?"

"My nose is fucking broken!" Yuku stopped walking, swaying, to kick Meki's ankle. Meki didn't even seem to notice. He only frowned and threw Yuku over his shoulder.

"Quit moving. You'll injure me," Meki said, narrowing his eyes, "and all these nice people on the streets tonight will call domestic abuse," he pinned Yuku's legs down with one arm, "and that never ends well for us."

"I will kill you. I will have your body torn apart and fed to my cat!"

"Also," Meki said, paying him no mind whatsoever, "I won."

Yuku cracked his glasses, but overall, Meki thought, it was worth it.

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #26 - Snuggle

marika_kailaya — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 21:44:01 GMT

Title: She'd Make a Killing in Nagekawashii
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #26 - Snuggle
Rating: PG
Summary: FUCK THE DAMN SUMMARY. /Yuku.
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

"'Snuggle', and all forms of it," Yuku said, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair, "is by far one of the stupidest words the English language ever came up with. And that is saying something."

"So you're implying that this baby is not snuggly?" Meki demanded, holding Erin up to his face and poking at her nose. She glared at him as much as a baby can glare at anyone.

"I am implying that her mother would kill you if she heard you saying such filth about her child," Yuku said. "And also that you absolutely cannot pull off that word."

"It sounded fine!" Meki said defensively, though he was actually pretty sure he really was trying to hold a record for most fucked-up pronunciation in history.

"Oh, I'm perfectly all right with you being unable to say it," Yuku reassured him, over the sound of him playing with Erin's ears and thus making her seemingly growl at him. "It's not something you need to be saying on a regular basis anyway."

"The damn baby," Meki said, deciding it might be a good idea to just leave Erin's ears alone, "is snuggly. Snuggly. Like a. Like something that's snuggly."

"That kid is about as snuggly as ours!" And Ray was a freaking cactus.

Meki glancing up suddenly alerted Yuku that something was wrong even before a well-manicured hand landed on his shoulder.

Raizu was back. Well, then. Oh, dear.

"Yuku, my love," Raizu said, very calmly, staying behind Yuku, which was the worst place Yuku could imagine someone like her being, "did I or did I not just hear you saying that my highly snuggly, might I add, baby is an asocial and violent art student with flippy hair?"

Okay, so he had been wrong. So what.

Yuku reached behind him to remove her hand. He just ignored the small moment during which her sharp pointy nails were in his skin. "She growled at my husband," he said indifferently, despite the fact that he was kind of praying Raizu was in a good mood now. She hadn't been, when she'd left Erin with them.

"That is because she recognizes that your husband is mad," Raizu said, moving over to Meki and taking Erin from him. Erin's expression brightened instantly. She even giggled a bit. Raizu smiled.

"If your baby thinks Meki is crazy but will go ahead and be happy with you," Yuku began.

"Then you should realize that this means I am stealthy above all things, and please do," Raizu finished, picking up Erin's bag and giving a quick glance to the kitchen to make sure nothing was being left behind, "put something on that nasty cut on your shoulder."

She left before Yuku could even look behind him.

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #13 - Flight

marika_kailaya — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 20:41:06 GMT

Title: No, That Wasn't the Drugs, He's Just Like That
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #13 - Flight
Rating: G
Summary: Because he is, unfortunately.
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

"We should fly."

"Sure. Whatever. When you can afford plane tickets, we'll—"

"No, I mean we should fly."

"...Uh-huh. By flapping our arms, do you mean?"

"No! No, we should just, you know, jump off a building."

"Meki—"

"And miss the ground."

"Meki—"

"Like in that one book, what was it called? The, the book."

"We read a lot of books, Meki."

"Anyway, what we'd do is, we'd—we could do it off this building!"

"We're sitting on a sidewalk."

"The building in front of us, though!"

"It's got a flimsy roof, you absolute dumbass."

"I think we could do it! They said the goddamned White Brothers—"

"Wright Brothers."

"—couldn't do it and now, do you know what we have? Airplanes. We have airplanes. Big damn flying machines. So honestly I don't see why we shouldn't be able to also fly on our own by missing the ground!"

"People have tried that. They died and were put in newspapers so other people could laugh at them and their poor family who frankly were better off without them."

"Yeah, but those people weren't us!"

"Oh, for the—you are either schizophrenic, or you are high, or perhaps you are simply under the age of two and a half. Whichever it is, if you are just plain dumb enough to do this, I will not be the one taking your sorry corpse to the morgue."

Half an hour and an intense headache later, Yuku was carrying Meki on his back to the hospital.

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #17 - Five more minutes?

marika_kailaya — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 00:39:40 GMT

Title: No One's Listening
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #17 - Five more minutes?
Rating: PG
Summary: When the sun came up / We were sleeping in / Sunk inside our blankets / Sprawled across the bed / And we were dreaming. --Straylight Run, 'Existentialism on Prom Night'
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

They woke up dreaming, quietly and awkwardly in a jumble of bones—sharp bones that came with this gawky age where everyone recognized them for what they were and made it a short-term goal to watch out for them. (They felt, in opiate-induced hazes covered in someone else's blood, like such frauds.)

Meki's nose was buried in his collarbone and it felt slightly wet, which, in his half-dream logic, Yuku thought had a lot to do with soccer players. The absurdity jolted him awake and he wondered what he'd been thinking while he forgot it.

This place was nothing but windows and cement, which made it a little dangerous to stay here during the day, no matter how completely desolate the area was. The sun was shining through each pane of glass, burning Yuku's eyes and making the walls flash white.

"Your nose is running," Yuku muttered. He was much too tired to be annoyed.

Meki sniffled. "Hadn't noticed." It came out, against Yuku's chest, more like he'd taken some random syllables, squished them together, and threw some sarcasm on top of them. He sounded barely awake.

"It's unsanitary."

"Yeah."

"Get off me."

"Ha. No."

"At least move your nose."

Meki did, shifting so that his nose was less in Yuku's collarbone and more entirely too near his face than anything else.

Yuku wished he could've been more irritated by this, but it was too early to growl at Meki. "Do you do these things to annoy me?"

"It's cold and you're warm. Your annoyance is only a bonus," Meki answered maddeningly, reaching up one hand to rub his nose. He looked ill. His eyes were bloodshot and he had the expression of someone who has a terrible headache but is realizing, painfully, that there is no way to get rid of it and thus will begin to pray for death if it doesn't go away on its own soon.

"Why is your nose running, anyway?"

"Allergies," Meki responded promptly.

"Meki."

"What?" The edge on Meki's voice was sharp and instant, and Yuku didn't think it'd be the best idea to push it. For all he knew, it could draw blood.

Instead, he gathered Meki's hair behind Meki because it was tickling his own neck. "Cut your hair," he said distastefully, but the effect of his tone was pathetic when he paired it with running his fingers over Meki's face. Meki's skin was indeed cold.

"If I cut my hair," Meki said, yawning, "I think Yaniko will finally just get rid of me."

"I doubt he's keeping you because of your hair."

"Wrong. He said he'd have pushed me onto the st—" Meki stopped talking for a moment to think about that and rephrase it. "Onto the metaphorical streets if I didn't at least have nice hair."

"Cut it anyway, he's kind of an asshole." Yuku's eyes had not yet adjusted to the sun and he thought they never would. They dripped from the sting. He wanted to still be asleep.

"You clearly haven't noticed I'm scared of him."

"Nope," Yuku pointed out, "because he's kind of like a spider: he's more scared of you than you are of him."

This statement was so completely wrong and insane that Meki almost sat up at it, and would've if he didn't think he'd pass out. "What? I mean. What? Since when are spiders scared of humans?"

"When they run away from you?"

"They do not run away," Meki said, blinking in astonishment and wondering if someone who had such a viewpoint on eight-legged demons was even worth his time. "They run after you. Sometimes they leap after you, swim after you, and spin webs on you when you're not looking."

"They do not. Spiders don't leap."

"And sometimes," Meki went on anyway, "in the middle of the night during summer they crawl into your bed and tell you horrible stories."

"Just because you've had bad experiences—they do what at night?"

"Well. I'm still not sure if that was real," Meki amended, wiping at his nose again. "But the other ones were. Seriously. I think."

Yuku began to laugh against his will. "Just get off me. We have to get out of here."

"Hell no, and get out of here and do what?"

"Uh, pretend to be law-abiding citizens?" Yuku suggested. More seriously, he added, "Move on?" And then, as Meki shifted to curl up beside him on the floor, wrapping his arms around Yuku's waist, "Get off me."

"It's cold," Meki said again, "and I am tired, and I am kind of pissed that you woke me up."

"How did I wake you up?"

"By hitting me in your sleep before the sun came up."

"You weren't even really awake when I woke up," Yuku said, rubbing at his eyes and closing them tightly. "Do you think there's, like, some kind of god that could destroy the sun and still keep the rest of the universe in existence?"

"No, I don't, and it wouldn't be any fun anyway," Meki answered, but the idea began to sound more appealing when his head gave a particularly sharp throb. "Shut up and keep me warm."

"How are you cold?"

"Cement floors in September have that tendency, I think. You're warm because," Meki paused to sniffle, "of my hair."

"Being in my mouth every time I think I've got it under control?" Yuku finished questioningly.

"Yeah."

Yuku could hear footsteps outside rising and fading, and he let out his breath. "Really. We have to leave."

"We can leave later," Meki said dismissively, making Yuku think, warily, that Meki didn't much mind the idea of being snarled at by authorities and also that Meki figured he could outrun them no matter how bad his head hurt.

Meki's idea of fun was a little off.

Yuku turned to face Meki, trying to avoid looking directly in his eyes. It was hard to keep arguing if you did that. Not that there was anything special about Meki's eyes, they were just—

Meki smiled at him.

Yuku sighed, and buried his nose in Meki's collarbone, and the next footsteps they heard were only dreamt.

Kei/Sho - Moon Child - #20 - [insert lyrics here]

sorry4mydickery — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 06:24:44 GMT

Title: Someday we'll wave hello/ And wish we'd never waved goodbye
Fandom: Moon Child; Mallepa, 2019-2020
Characters: Kei x Sho
Theme: #20 - [insert lyrics here]
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content, angst
Summary: Shortly following Toshi's death, Kei reluctantly bids farewell to Sho, who refuses to let him go.
Disclaimer/Author's Notes: I do not own these characters.

I told myself I would keep my 30_ways challenges clean but writer's block on several different stories at once led to... this. :< Thanks to da_fidge, mitsuchan, and uranus_sama for proofing this and helping me edit it. In spite of the title and challenge, this was written with a lot influence from this video.

~*~

Sort-of-fake-cut. The real thing is here. I realize the rules say that adult content just needs to go under an LJ cut but I prefer not to post it publicly. So this is just a placeholder to note that I am still clinging to this pairing (although I doubt anyone is really keeping tabs on this community much anymore but hey, just in case).

~*~

This time I need to know
I really must be told
If it's over
It's up to you you know
The things you want to hold
Are in pieces

...I've lived my life alone
My every step foretold
To never linger
And yet it haunts me so
What we are letting go
Our spell is broken

...Someday we'll wave hello
And wish we'd never waved goodbye
To this romance
We'll drink up every line
And shoot up every word
Till there's no more

Crashing down
Crashing down, my friends
Only love
Only love can win

So cry these tears
We'll cry as all
We've held so long to fall apart
As the curtain falls
We bid you all goodnight

--This Time by Billy Corgan

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #18 - Vanity

marika_kailaya — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 22:53:05 GMT

Title: Scars Like Wedding Rings
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #18 - Vanity
Rating: PG
Summary: And is this what it should be? / Well--is it? --Patrick Wolf, 'Augustine'
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

He can identify the old scars now, mostly, though he hasn't had the greatest time ever realizing half of them are Yuku's fault—tiny, circular burn scars up and down the abused veins of his arms and switchblade patterns in his stomach, wounds made permanent to bring up the recollection of bruises and scrapes long faded. He has not lived in sweaters to hide presumable remnants of youth gone terribly wrong, he has lived in sweaters to essentially prevent the rest of the world from thinking marriage really is a bad idea.

Although this is not to say he would be stupid enough to actually marry Yuku. (It's illegal, for one thing.)

There's a thinner, more faded scar on his hip, in a shape he's always had trouble discerning, but now he puts a callused finger to the sharp ear tip and recollects having the fox carved there. He wonders, now, if he'd have let Yuku do that if he'd been sober, but he already knows. The truth is in the newer words cut beneath it.

He is unfortunately discovering that his self-consciousness remains long after the memories come back, though before he'd just assumed he'd stop caring about the questions asked once he knew the answers himself. He has healed since Shi's fall, but now, in place of paralysis and blood and broken bones and being unable to leave the house, there are only more scars, and they are larger and more gruesome than even the gash line on his collarbone. He turns his back to the mirror to inspect the still-pink claw scrapes and curses, and it is not unlike glancing over a red-matted shoulder in Nagekawashii.

It's the one on the shoulder itself that gets him, though. It is barbed wire recreated in puffy tissue, and he knows why it's there—he can remember it too well for his own liking, and consequently he's spent the past few years running from fences with guns against his forehead, wishing like hell he knew who or when, but now that he thinks he has access to most of the shards of his mind, he still can't place a face and it's still too blurry to do anything with.

Yuku is leaning against the doorframe, watching him half-curiously and half-warily with a cigarette balanced between his fingers. Meki can see the reflection, he's just ignoring it while he tries to look away from the mirror so he can find clothes. His skin is too sensitive to towel-dry yet, so water drips from his legs (glass scars on his knees from crawling in filth and a five A.M. name on his ankle that is illegible without the memory) and into the carpet while he pulls open drawers to find long-sleeved things with high necks.

"Why are you wearing that?" Yuku speaks up, incredulously, when Meki eventually pulls out a sweater that barely leaves his chin uncovered because today he is not feeling that open to the stares of strangers who shouldn't know and wouldn't understand anyway. "It's eighty degrees out."

"I know," Meki responds, not answering the question at all, and then he stops. "Yuku?"

Yuku glances around for an ashtray and ends up flicking ash into Meki's teacup. Meki resists the urge to shove the cigarette down his throat. "Yeah?"

"Where'd I get this?" he asks, lifting a hand to the barb scar (it hurts to touch, but not because it's fresh). He cannot get a good enough grip on the image to know if Yuku was even there or not, but Yuku remembers more about Meki's life than Meki does, so he's decided, bitterly, that Yuku should know.

Yuku flinches for less than a second. He crushes out the cigarette and strides over to Meki. "Me," he says, abruptly, lying through his teeth.

Meki stares at him flatly. "I don't think so." Before he can ask again, however, Yuku is reaching into his pocket and pulling out a knife, wrapping one arm around Meki's neck and using the other to sink the blade into the point of one of the barbs.

Meki shoves Yuku away from him before Yuku's pulled back his weapon, sputtering out curses with one hand clamped over the cut. It's not overly-deep and it doesn't hurt that much beyond the initial sting, but drops of blood seep through the cracks in his fingers. "What the hell did you do that for?" He doesn't know how he ever considered this sane or okay. He only knows he did, undeniable with the proof standing beside him and holding a knife.

"It's mine now," Yuku answers, completely flippantly. He closes the switchblade and starts out of the room, and Meki takes a deep, shaking breath and goes to find a towel. His head is in fragments. His thoughts are sporadic. He doesn't know how he can survive this.

What he really can't remember, he thinks, feeling like it's his heart that just got sliced open instead of his arm, is why he bothered with Yuku in the first place.

[Fanfic] Akanishi Jin/Kamenashi Kazuya - JE - #30 - Love

misaseba — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 16:12:27 GMT

Title: Words That We Couldn't Say
Fandom: Johnny's Entertainment
Characters: Akame, Jin/OC, Kame/OC
Theme: #30 - Love
Rating: PG-13
Genre: future AU, slash, het, mild angst
Summary: We're not teenagers anymore, Jin. We're not young enough anymore to afford the price we have to pay.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot, and the OCs, I guess.
A/N: This fic is "unclassified, open-end, in-between", according to takagi, who was so kind to beta the fic (twice ^^;;) for me. I believe she's correct, so please proceed at own risk. Abuse of italics.
Word Count: 9,435

One-shot - Words That We Couldn't Say

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #16 - Honesty

marika_kailaya — Sat, 19 Jul 2008 20:30:15 GMT

Title: Thin
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #16 - Honesty
Rating: PG
Summary: You'll have me back, but it's gonna take a week. --Stars, 'Take Me to the Riot'
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

So. He was in the middle of a controversy, or the rebirth thereof, and the editor he swore he hated was pregnant, and he'd maybe just shattered something in his relationship. Figures. His ridiculous not-family finally gets their heads screwed halfway back on, and then Lavender Suruji steps in (is dragged in, but Yuku had to protect him, he had to).

Him, and a couple of stupid countries who seem to enjoy wasting their time on a literary battle.

Three days after the shatter, he mentally declared it a crisis and went to do what was just normal in such crises—ask Meki for his opinion. He knew that this was not the best idea in the world, but dammit, he was fresh out of sane resources, between an eleven-year-old, an alcoholic, a pregnant woman, and a man who had been wearing black lipstick for nine years.

He found Meki lying on the floor next to the kotatsu they'd already shoved everything else aside to make room for. He was writing with low-grade annoyance at the paper or maybe at everything else, so Yuku stretched out beside him and waited for him to pause and rest his writing hand before he took it. Meki didn't look at him, focusing his vision closely on the words, but his arm tensed.

"What am I doing here, exactly?"

Meki flipped a page in his notebook. "I assumed you were trying to kill me."

"Objectively, Meki."

Meki rolled his eyes. "Objectively? Well, objectively, someone might say you're just plain being stupid, though for what reason I don't know yet. A paranoid person might say you're doing this deliberately as payback for all the heroin or something. Objectively, I would say you are out of your fucking mind for thinking you could shelter Lavender easily, and twice as insane for thinking you could pull off the possible attempt at destroying me. You've already literally killed me once, I mean, come on, you could at least not do it figuratively later."

"I didn't think I could pull it off," was all Yuku could tell him, weakly. "There was nothing to pull off."

"Even if there was, you failed. That must hurt." Meki's voice was as black and barely-composed as the hair flipping incessantly into his face. He was speaking in sarcasm and cruelty, biting out coldness in the hopes of it hitting Yuku, but beneath it was the slightly mad urge to scream.

"Then what am I going to do?" Yuku asked. Yeah. Bad idea.

He needed to sleep more.

Meki's eyes actually widened. He closed his notebook and sat up to stare at Yuku for a moment or two in a combination of disbelief and irritation so heavy Yuku thought he might strangle him.

"Honestly?" Meki began. Then he stopped, like he had to think about it. "Honestly," he repeated, "the fact that you don't know—three hundred years and you don't know—is your answer."

"Meki—"

"You should be worrying more about what that means," Meki said, as calmly as possible, "than what you intend to do about this." He stood up, letting his voice slip back into annoyance. "Now, I have to work, because if I don't, Raizu will do the physical damage you've neglected, and then I will have nothing and my hands might be too paralyzed to finish this chapter later."

Meki disappeared too quickly for Yuku to say anything, leaving him to cringe and think that today was really not his day for words.

The worst part, Yuku had to think, was that Meki was telling the truth.

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #29 - See the world my way

marika_kailaya — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 17:40:46 GMT

Title: But Never Really Polished
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #29 - See the world my way
Rating: PG
Summary: You'll see me / The face that is used to telling lies. --Stars, 'Take Me to the Riot'
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

Yuku is thirty-five years old and he still does not and cannot see the world in the same light Meki does.

The woman on the plane is thirty, maybe thirty-five, and she's tall and graceful and very thin. She is wearing a suit and her hair is pinned up neatly. Yuku is wearing leather and, wincing, sees her as someone his age who looks a thousand times more respectable than he does. He doesn't pay attention to the bones or the faint noise from the bathroom later.

Meki sees the way she eats and the way she disappears to retch.

On their way to the hotel, they pass a kid walking down the street. He can't be much older than Ray, but he could pass for a forty-year-old. Yuku momentarily wonders how much sleep he gets and why he's walking alone.

Meki's brief glance falls onto the yellow whites of the child's eyes and the scars.

The receptionist at the hotel is wearing too much make-up. Yuku tries not to stare and reminds himself that sometimes, American women have no fashion sense. (Neither do Japanese women, but at least, Yuku thinks, they don't make a supreme effort at looking like drag queens on crack.)

Meki raises his eyebrow a little at the bruises the thick make-up's not quite fully covering.

In the supermarket down the street, there's a thin man holding a baby and shoplifting. Yuku distastefully notes the shoplifting, Meki steps up to the nervous man and compliments him on his child. (The man smiles faintly and thanks him.)

When they return to Japan the next week, Liang is waiting in front of their house. There's no telling how long he's been out there. There's a large cut on his face. He says he needs help.

They stop and look at him, then at one another.

Yuku runs inside for antiseptic. Meki follows Ray to Liang's side and takes his hand without asking any questions.

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #12 - Hobbies

marika_kailaya — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 15:32:06 GMT

Title: Maybe He Should Try Gardening
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #12 - Hobbies
Rating: PG
Summary: Yuku is bored, and Meki is not sharing Korea once it's his.
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

Sometimes Meki thinks he wasn't made for sleep. At any rate, no one ever lets him sleep. He's always being snarled at because of a deadline, or getting too caught up in a book and losing track of time. And sometimes he can't sleep because Raizu has decided to forget she does, in fact, have a place to live that is not even near Minami, and then of course he'll be awake until at the very least four.

And when he is actually asleep, Yuku is wandering the house and waking him up.

There's the sound of something crashing and a yelp tonight, and he sits up, wondering, in the part of his mind that honestly is just not phased at the idea of someone breaking into his home, if he can kill the intruder one-handed. He's been sleeping on the other hand, and he can't feel it.

Oh. God. Now he can feel it.

At the same moment, the light is turned on and someone who sounds like the personification of lung cancer says, rather calmly, "Meki, if you kill me I'll only be angry."

Meki uses the hand he'd intended as a weapon to clutch at the one that feels like it's full of needles. "Why are you awake?" he answers. What he really wants to know, he thinks, is why Yuku is awake, in the dark, knocking over—a bookshelf. Great. "Specifically, why are you waking me up?"

Yuku gets credit for managing to look at least a little sheepish. There's a flashlight lying at his feet. "I was looking for a specific book in here. If I had turned the light on—"

"A light is several thousand times less likely to wake me up than a falling bookshelf. In case you were wondering."

"You know that landed on my foot," Yuku points out, limping back to the shelf. He shoves it back against the wall and starts rearranging the books on it.

"That doesn't even come close to retribution," Meki says, somehow being stiffly indifferent and sympathetic at the same time. He pulls the blankets over his head with full intentions of going back to sleep. "If you're going to wake me up, it should at least be for something useful. Sex, or something."

"You've been asleep since this evening."

"So? I haven't slept since Wednesday! And it's Saturday!"

"It's one in the morning."

"And you're waking me up."

"Not deliberately. I even took the precaution of not turning the light on to avoid waking you up. You're free to go back to sleep."

"Anyway, I haven't been asleep since noon. I got up for dinner. And I think I had a bottle of—something—somewhere around—sometime."

"I don't remember that."

"Must've been a dream. Oh, well. It was very good something." Meki's running out of breath, so he takes the blankets off his face and sits up. The feeling has come back in his hand. "Why are you awake, anyway?"

"I'm bored," is all Yuku says, tucking the last book back into place and standing up.

"So go bother Ray."

"Ray actually needs sleep."

"Then you should clearly be having sex with me." Meki's head aches. He's not sure why, but it does. If Yuku had not woken him up, he wouldn't have noticed.

Yuku gives him a sort of deadpan look.

"...on the sidewalk? Near the Korean drycleaners?"

Sometimes Yuku has to wonder if maybe his husband's brain is really just the tragic result of massive overdose. "I'm not bored enough for that."

Meki crosses his arms. "That was very, very cruel, Yuku."

"Yeah," Yuku agrees, with a bit too much pride. "But it's not even that kind of bored—it's a," he pauses to look for an appropriate phrase. "It's a broader bored."

"Are you having a midlife crisis?"

"I think you have to be in midlife for that," Yuku responds sternly. "You're not being helpful, so shut up."

Meki does not. "So is that why you can't sleep?"

"No, I can't sleep because I thought it might be interesting to see how much caffeine I could consume in a ten-hour period."

Meki has to laugh at him. "That wasn't very bright."

"I'm aware of that. But I have no projects, is the problem," Yuku says, plaintively.

"If you want to take over Korea with me, I'm all for that."

"I don't want Korea."

"There are nuclear bombs in Korea."

Yuku stops and considers that. "I still don't want Korea."

"What, I guess you want Africa or something like that? Some people," Meki says precisely, "don't have any countries at all."

"And I want to be one of them."

"Fine. When I have Korea, you're not getting any of it."

"Meki," Yuku says, with considerably less exasperation than Meki thinks he should have.

"You could work on making a nuclear bomb," Meki suggests. "Then we wouldn't need Korea."

"That's inappropriate."

"You could take up dancing."

"I believe that is your area of expertise, mon juli," Yuku says wryly, because of the two of them, you'd think he'd be the one having his toes stepped on.

"Hey! You could learn French!"

"Je parle français, mon juli."

"Oh. Évidemment," Meki says, and then, "Right. I taught you French, didn't I?"

"Yes," Yuku says, pinching the bridge of his nose with the air of someone dealing with a very stupid child. He moves to stretch out on the bed, his arms resting under his head.

"Look," Meki says, "when Ray leaves, we'll take on the old project. The really destructive one."

Yuku stares at him, aghast. "Are you serious? I think I spent too many years trying to get out of that!"

Meki shrugs nonchalantly. "It was an idea."

"And we'll be old by then, anyway," Yuku grumbles.

Meki chooses to ignore that.

There is silence for what might, Meki thinks ruefully, be time enough for him to go back to sleep, before Yuku sits up again and heads out of the room.

"Where are you going?"

"I've decided you're taking me out until the caffeine wears off."

Meki follows him. "Where am I taking you?"

"Hell if I know. Put on your shoes."

Meki stands in the doorway for a second, looking carefully over Yuku's words. Because Yuku hadn't said he would have to put a shirt on, he just keeps going until, from downstairs, Yuku yells back up, very sharply, "Et enfilé une chemise!"

Any language but that. Meki shakes his head, laughing. "You know I'm going to drag you to Fushimi, don't you?" He doesn't have any other ideas, after all.

"Where a shirt is required."

"You don't have to be wearing a shirt to get into a ward, Yuku." A shrine, on the other hand...

Yuku doesn't respond. He just slams the door and waits outside.

Kei/Sho - Moon Child - #19 - Humility

sorry4mydickery — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 06:23:20 GMT

"Title: Going it Alone
Fandom: Moon Child
Characters: Kei and Sho
Theme: #19 - Humility
Rating: PG-13 for violence, mention of prostitution
Summary: Kei has to rescue Sho when Sho tries to handle things on his own.
Disclaimer/Author's Notes/Spoiler Warning: I do not own these characters. This is an uchikake. This is a naga-juban. Proofed by mitsuchan and uranus_sama. Thanks for the encouragement. ♥

~*~

Kei kicked in the old-fashioned sliding door in just in time to see Sho, clad in a short wig and several layers of ornate kimono, twist free from a tall man’s grasp. He lunged for the brute in front of him, grabbing him by the torso and pushing him roughly to the tatami-covered floor. The man Sho tackled placed a meaty hand over Sho’s forehead and tried to push him away but Sho grabbed the fingers over his face and wrenched them backwards, earning a scream from his attacker. Sho followed it up seizing the man’s other hand and wrenching it in an awkward twist, further disabling him.

The man that had been holding Sho down was recovering from being knocked over by Sho’s momentum. As he stood up, snarling at Sho with sadistic intent, Kei dashed in with speed the human eye could barely register and kicked in his kneecap. The man collapsed with a howl.

“Kei!” Sho exclaimed, suddenly grinning between his battering of the man he had tackled. Black hair framed his face in short, androgynous pageboy.

Kei was too focused on his target, though. The man he had kicked was crying and distracted from the agony of his sudden knee injury. Kei planted a well-aimed kick to the man’s ribs and he collapsed onto his side. The man was in no position to protest or escape as Kei pressed his foot on the side of his throat, applying just the right amount of pressure to render him unconscious without choking him.

He was watching his prey’s eyelids flutter closed when he realized Sho was staring at him. He looked over at Sho’s target and saw he too had been knocked out -- evidently by a bonsai planter, which remained intact but had scattered soil around his assailant’s head.

Kei realized Sho’s lip was swollen and bruises were forming on his face and neck. He was draped in a flowing uchikake, a vividly-colored wedding kimono, and his face was still pale with left-over white powder. There was a smear of blood on his face from where he had wiped his bloody nose. His lips were tinted red with the remnants of lipstick, which showed on his teeth as he smiled sheepishly and tried to stand but accidentally stepped on some of the excess fabric, yanking himself to his hands and knees.

Kei would have laughed if the sight hadn’t roused less-than-happy memories of the distant past.

“Are you okay?” He asked, going around Sho to help him slip off the layers of kimono.

“I’m fine.” Sho raised his arms compliantly and Kei tugged the first one off and Sho set to work untying the numerous sashes that held everything beneath the outermost layer in place. It was brilliant, gradated red and orange silk brocade with intricate embroidery and painted-on dye forming cheerful nosegays, cranes, and traditional hand-drums. It must have made someone a radiant bride.

As Kei was about to toss it aside, he noticed a large, narrow gash by the shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Kei said, peeling two more less decorative layers off of Sho’s shoulders until he reached the red and white under-kimono, a naga-juban. A flower of maroon bloomed on one of the sleeves. “What happened?”

“It’s just a cut...” Sho said, petulance creeping into his voice. “Forget about it, help me find my clothes, please?”

“In a minute,” Kei pursed his lips and ripped up the hem of one of the chintzy kimono Sho had worn beneath the colorful uchikake.

Sho shrugged the naga-juban off, revealing a deep horizontal gash on his bicep.

“Shit, that’s pretty deep,” Kei frowned and tied the fabric tightly over the wound and then yanked the wig off; hopefully then he would stop reminding Kei of the alluring girls and young men kept in barred storefronts that he saw when he lived in the Taishou era.

“I’m okay.” Sho was nonchalant but Kei knew it had to hurt.

“Where are your cl--” The vampire started to ask but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway.

Kei was ready for them when they appeared in the doorway where the sliding screen had been. Sho had already covered his ears as Kei fired off two shots, each hitting a man in the face. The third jumped out of view, and Kei pushed Sho to the floor and made sure he was blocking the boy’s body just as the man ducked back in to take a shot.

Kei grunted through gritted teeth as the bullet ripped into his chest, just below his right clavicle.

The man lowered his gun, thinking Kei was down for the count. He couldn’t mask his surprise when Kei fired off another shot, hitting him in the shoulder, then the head.

Kei winced as he stood, allowing Sho to sit up. His blue eyes widened as he saw the ugly wound just below Kei’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He asked, tugging his naga-juban back on.

Kei coughed and nodded. “Where are your clothes?” He scratched the ragged hole in his shirt, pointlessly scratching his healing flesh.

“Some other room, they made me change fi--”

“We better just leave them then,” Kei said as he moved to open the window. He didn’t see Sho’s mortified expression as he looked for some method of unlocking it.

“I can’t run around in this!” Sho protested, gesturing to his state of undress; all he had left on was the naga-juban and white tabi socks.

“We don’t have a choice.” Kei looked around for a moment before picking up the bonsai Sho had used to knock one of the first men out. “I only brought one extra clip and we only have one gun. Unless those were the only guys here, we don’t have a choice.” With that, he threw it forcefully at the window.

It shattered, as did the bonsai’s pot once it hit the alley outside. Kei broke off the glass that remained on the bottom half of the frame so Sho could slip out without hurting himself.

“Go,” He commanded as he stepped aside, relieved the Asian-style building only had one floor. Sho looked around with a wince before cautiously stepping out the window.

The knee-length hem of the naga-juban caught on a stray piece of glass and as Sho brought his second leg over the wall, he inadvertently exposed himself to the empty alley and ripping the fragile garment.

Kei snickered and unhooked the fabric from the glass shard so that Sho was free.

Sho cursed as he fought to re-gather the naga-juban around himself. Kei started to climb out the window when Sho stopped him.

“Wait. Get the other kimono, the big one.”

“Why?” Kei asked with a shake of his head, “Yeah it’s worth money but it’s not worth going to the trouble of trying to s--”

“Please?!” Sho asked, surprising Kei with his desperation. “I don’t care about selling it right now, I need something to wearnow will you explain how you ended up in drag evidently in a brothel?”

Sho covered his face with his free hand as Kei poured some disinfectant over the gash on his arm; they had stopped to buy a fresh stock of first-aid supplies as the only disinfectant they had left had at home was some expensive rum that Sho’s brother Shinji had conned someone into buying.

“I didn’t know they were dressing me up in drag, I thought they just wanted to make me look more traditional.” He dropped his hand and turned to glare at Kei but all Kei saw was a pouting teenage boy. “And I didn’t know it was a brothel! I thought they were going to make me serve tea or dance with a fan or something.”

Kei paused, closed his eyes for a second, and opened them once he had a controlled smile on his face.

“What?!” Sho demanded, thoroughly embarrassed.

“Nothing,” Kei shook his head, not wanting to get into any discussion that might involve dancing. “I hate to say it,” he said grimly, changing the subject, “But this is going to need some stitches.”

“Shit,” Sho muttered; he’d gotten himself into a lot of sticky situations before but he’d always managed to get away mostly unscathed so far. “How bad is this gonna hurt?” He looked Kei in the eye, nervousness pinching his features.

Kei was silent for a moment as he looked at nothing in particular.

“Mm... well, it usually hurts a lot, but...” he trailed off uncomfortably, but Sho was feeling bold this time.

“But what?”

“I can make it hurt less...”

“What, turn me into a vampire?” Sho was genuinely curious.

“No!” Kei shouted. Sho paled and the vampire realized he said it far more harshly than he intended. “No, not that.” He said with a calmer, quieter voice. “Just... my saliva instead.”

“...your spit?” Sho repeated, his expression innocently curious. Kei still could not meet his gaze.

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay,” he shrugged and looked straight ahead. “It’s not like we can afford going to the hospital. I hate shots anyway.”

Kei’s heart beat faster; this didn’t seem right...

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, a vision of practicality and calm.

“Okay.” Kei rinsed the pungent disinfectant with warm water and lifted Sho’s arm while leaning down a little.

He dragged his tongue along the open flesh; it still tasted strongly of chemicals but the heady flavor of blood was still present, as the wound was a deep one.

Thankfully he had fed on one of the men at the entrance to the brothel so his hunger was mostly satiated... but that didn’t stop the uncontrollable longing brought on by the temptation of available blood.

Sho was stiff, unmoving, and silent, but Kei could sense the pounding of his heart. He wasn’t sure when he started to enjoy it but at some point he found himself alternating the pressure and speed of his tongue as he lapped at Sho’s arm, secretly hoping to urge some sound of pleasure from him instead of just increased heart rate and slightly heavier breathing.

It was then that Kei realized that he had to stop. When it stopped being about the analgesic effect of his saliva making it easier for him to suture Sho’s wound and more about some illicit, elusive pleasure, Kei blanched and abruptly tore himself away.

“Uh, that should be enough,” Kei wiped his mouth and sat up. Sho said nothing, only nodded.

An awkward silence reigned as Kei prepared the rest of the necessary articles. He held the tiny needle he gotten just for this over the flame of his lighter before threading it, wiped some more disinfectant on Sho’s arm, and then pricked him with the needle.

“Can you feel that?”

“Not really,” Sho said, his voice a little unsteady.

Kei took that as a good sign. He set to work on the stitches and worked in silence for a while, uncertain of what to say. He wanted to say something like, ‘And what lesson did we learn today?’ but he couldn’t talk down to Sho like that.

Thankfully, Sho spoke first: “I guess I’ll do a little more research before jumping into a job next time...”

“Contrary to popular belief, there’s no shame in asking us for help, you know,” Kei teased the boy, smiling fondly.

Sho looked away, and Kei was pretty sure he was pouting a little. He started to flinch as the needle went through his skin. The vampire pretended not to hear his sniffles. Sho never said a word about the pain, though.

As time passed, the deep incision healed fine, albeit in a less uniform scar than the initial injury indicated; Kei had never had to sew up someone’s flesh before.

“You could always use it as bragging rights to impress girls, right?” Kei would tease him when Sho complained about it. It was especially funny when he sometimes heard him do just that.

~*~

Kei/Sho - Moon Child - #07 - Good Morning

sorry4mydickery — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 06:13:13 GMT

Title: Awake
Fandom: Moon Child
Characters: Kei and Sho
Theme: #7 - Good Morning
Rating: G
Summary: Kei wakes up before Sho does.
Disclaimer/Author's Notes/Spoiler Warning: I do not own these characters.

~*~

As he slowly drifted upwards towards the surface of wakefulness, the comforting warmth of another person’s presence became increasingly evident. It was not, in fact, a heavy blanket thrown across his chest but rather a heavy arm instead.

His heart seemed to twitch within his chest as he realized it was Sho.

Stupid Sho. He made the vampire feel like an awkward kid sometimes... an awkward kid like Sho.

But it was worth enduring the confused feelings and the awkward glances for the sake of the warmth Sho brought.

Sho made a quiet noise and shifted in his sleep; his face was burrowed in Kei’s armpit but he turned aside and his breath began blowing over Kei’s chest in slow puffs.

Kei would have liked to take advantage of Sho’s unconsciousness and hold him close but Sho had been asleep on his arm for so long that Kei barely had enough feeling to wiggle his fingers. He rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

His right arm was free, so he brought it up to comb his fingers through Sho’s hair; he had lightened it recently, refusing Kei’s help, but neither of them wanting to pay salon prices. It actually looked okay, and Sho had managed to avoid getting dye all over the bathroom.

He could feel the gradual change of Sho’s breathing pattern as he too slowly awoke so Kei took a moment to gently cup his hand against the youth’s face before dropping it at his side again.

“Mm,” was Sho’s response to the cessation of Kei’s touch. To Kei’s surprise, Sho tightened his grasp on his torso.

“Don’t stop...” He murmured, and Kei barely restrained himself from flinching in surprise. Was he talking in his sleep? He had to have been. It didn’t take a vampire’s heightened sense to judge a person’s slow, regular breaths as those of a sleeper.

Still...

Kei returned to lightly tugging his fingers through Sho’s tousled hair, attempting to smooth it down a little as well as enjoying the intimacy of the act.

Sho sighed peacefully and pleasant dreams as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

~*~

Kei/Sho - Moon Child - #06 - Vacation

sorry4mydickery — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 06:11:59 GMT

Title: Last Minute Vacation
Fandom: Moon Child
Characters: Kei and Sho
Theme: #6 - Vacation
Rating: G
Summary: A while after playing around at the beach with Toshi, Son, and Yi-Che, this time Sho insists he and Kei return there by themselves.
Disclaimer/Author's Notes/Spoiler Warning: I do not own the characters portrayed herein.

~*~

“Let’s go to the beach, just you and me this time,” he asked, tugging at the red sleeve of the vampire’s favorite coat.

“Can’t you ever ask ahead of the time? Or do you wait for the last minute just to throw me off?” Kei answered with a chuckle, pausing at the door. He had been on his way out to feed, and he actually preferred to do it without Sho’s curious, guilt-inducing gaze on him.

“I exist to get your panties in a wad over every little thing,” Sho laughed and threw the door open with an unnecessarily gallant bow.

Kei shook his head and sighed. Sho’s grin drooped rapidly as he waited for some sort of answer. Kei adjusted his sleeve since Sho had yanked one side lower than the other and then strode out the door.

“Fine, fine,” he said, and Sho’s grin returned. Kei couldn’t help but be amused by the youth’s intense relief and renewed vigor. He decided he would hunt tomorrow or perhaps the day after.

Sho locked the door behind them and followed after him like a puppy excited for a walk. He was almost twenty now but he still seemed like a dorky adolescent to Kei sometimes. “But I hope you plan on paying for the gas because we can’t walk there and back.”

“Awwwww! Tch, I see, now I’m your chauffeur. Jerk.”

“Hey, it was your idea,” Kei reminded him.

~*~

Thankfully they survived the drive out to the beach once again, although Sho still tensed up like a gambler with his savings on the line and insisted on chewing through several cigarettes in the process.

The sky appeared pitch-black and it was clear enough that one or two stars were visible amidst the haze; the rest were outshined by Mallepa’s brilliance. Those few stars were enough to make Sho happy, though; he hadn’t seen a clear night sky unimpeded by artificial lighting so, as Kei said, he had no idea what he was missing.

“Ahhhh, it feels great here at night,” Sho sighed as he slid forward in the seat, leaned back, and folded his arms behind his head, reclining as best he could so he could look up at the darkness.

“Mm,” Kei answered; Sho didn’t see his affectionate gaze.

“I feel like I’m on vacation when we come out here.”

Kei chuckled. “It’s too bad you never got to see Okinawa in its prime.”

“Ahh?” Sho glanced over at the vampire who was looking up at the sky by then.

“It was a close place for people to vacation in Japan, before the economy collapsed. Perfect weather, beautiful beaches, a little exotic...”

“Oh... huh...” Sho said thoughtfully. “I thought people usually went to Hawaii or Guam or something.” He imagined pretty women in grass skirts with flowers and pineapples and graceful, swaying dances like he’d seen in books and movies.

“Those places too... but I guess I liked Okinawa best.”

“Hmm...” Sho nodded and stretched, yawning. “I prefer vacationing at Mallepa’s beach in the middle of the night, with a nostalgic vampire.” He stretched languorously, reaching out with his arms, but rather than folding them behind his head again, he let one fall across Kei’s shoulders, wondering if it was subtle in the slightest.

Kei shook his head and smiled; Sho recognized the genuineness of that particular smile and considered his slick move a success.

~*~

Bridge/Sky - Power Rangers SPD - #29 See The World My Way

shurifanstuffs — Sat, 31 May 2008 00:53:16 GMT

Title: Empathy
Fandom: Power Rangers SPD
Characters: Bridge Carson/Sky Tate
Theme: #29 See The World My Way
Rating: G
Summary: After a freak accident causes the Rangers to have each others' genetic powers, Sky sees firsthand just how difficult it can be to be Bridge.
Disclaimer/Author's Notes/Spoiler Warning: The characters do not belong to me. The idea that Bridge was seen as possibly autistic when he was a baby came (to me, at least) from kikos_ai.

None of the Rangers noticed anything was wrong until they demorphed after confining yet another alien criminal that day.

It all started when Sky, upon demorphing, suddenly turned pale, blubbered a little, and hid in a corner of Delta Command, cramming his hands into his jacket pockets. Jack was about to ask him what was wrong when he sneezed, and there were suddenly two Jacks standing there. It soon became quite apparent what had happened when the others attempted to use their own powers. Syd found herself able to make a force field instead of her usual ability; Z walked right through the center computer console; and Bridge took a glove off, grabbed the little piece of iron from Syd's belt, and nearly overbalanced when he swung his heavy iron fist.

"That alien you were just fighting must have switched your genetic powers around somehow," Kat theorized, sounding amused at the idea as she watched them.

"I wondered what that energy blast he kept hitting us with was doing," said one Jack.

"Yeah, all it did was make me feel a little tingly," said the second one. "How could it have switched our powers around if they're in our genes, though...?"

"Could we stop wondering how it happened and concentrate on finding a way to make us go back to normal, please?" Sky interrupted, his voice hoarse. "I... I got Bridge's powers-"

"-and you're not used to them," finished Bridge kindly, handing Sky his beloved leather gloves. "Here, you're definitely going to want to wear these." Sky looked dubious, but he slipped them on, and immediately looked relieved.

"All of you go to the rec room and stay there," Commander Cruger ordered them after a whispered conversation with Kat. "It could be dangerous for you to be around others with powers you are not used to. Close the door, and I'll send out word that nobody is to disturb you. Miss Manx and I will interrogate the prisoner and see if there is a way to change you back."

When the Rangers had complied, shutting themselves in the rec room, Sky retreated to a corner once more and watched his teammates, all of whom seemed excited about having new powers, if only temporarily. Jack promptly attached signs to the backs of each of his selves, proclaiming himself to be "Jack 1" and "Jack 2". Z kept sinking into the walls and popping out unexpectedly, attempting to scare the others. Syd made a mockery of Sky's usual closed-off behavior, punctuated with making shields of various sizes, which the others couldn't penetrate. Bridge (Sky observed with an odd pang of guilt and sadness inside his chest) was marveling at simply being able to touch things with his bare hands, not needing gloves.

For his part, Sky had no idea what to do with himself, as he was not excited by the idea of experimenting with Bridge's powers. He'd nearly fainted upon demorphing and seeing everything around him surrounded by eerie, swirling colors of every shade and variation imaginable... ghostly images of events, people, things, passing by in front of his eyes... and the feeling that others were trying to intrude upon his mind, clamoring, a jumbled, disjointed mix of voices that he heard as distantly as if they were playing on a badly-tuned radio. The gloves helped, but didn't seem to shut out everything entirely.

"It's not easy, is it?" Sky jumped when Bridge addressed him, startled from his thoughts. "Not being able to touch ANYTHING without a barrier in-between your skin and the world," Bridge went on, sitting down next to him. "Seeing- feeling so much when you take that barrier away. Maybe even things you don't want to." Sky felt another sad pang in his chest at the slight bitterness in his friend's voice. He could only speculate what would occur with actual physical contact without the gloves, and wasn't going to try and find out. He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat.

"I... I don't really know what to say," he admitted.

"My mama told me a few years ago that before she found out about my powers, she thought I was autistic. I took forever to learn how to talk... shied away from touching things... especially other people," Bridge plowed on, ignoring Sky's discomfort... perhaps without his powers, it wasn't so obvious... or maybe, he realized, Bridge had been waiting to spit this out for a while, but had never found a good opportunity to. "But the real reason was I couldn't find ways to describe things and express myself with words rather than feelings. And, of course, touching people made me see and feel a lot of things I couldn't understand. It was simply by accident that we found out that wearing gloves helps suppress my powers, too- thankfully when I was still young. And it was years before I figured out most of what I could do with them, and developed fine control. Being used to them helps, of course. My mind seemed to work to build up mental barriers and... ways to cope on its own. I don't get overwhelmed when I have to take my gloves off, because my mind can process everything, block out whatever I don't need." Sky stared at him, shocked at all of this new information.

It makes sense, though, he thought. Of course he's had these ever since he was born. Just like I would unintentionally make shields when I was a toddler and threw temper tantrums.

"Why did you tell me this?" Sky finally asked, and Bridge shrugged.

"I guess I did because I'm hoping that since you've gotten a small glimpse of what it's like to be me, then you'll be able to understand me better. And, you know, won't be so quick to make fun of me or reject what my powers make me see." Bridge's voice was easy, his smile light, but Sky thought he could feel tinges of all sorts of emotions from him, too- anger, hurt, hope, relief- and wondered if it was the powers or just his own imagination.

"I'm sorry, Bridge," Sky finally mumbled. "For... well, everything I've ever said to you..."

"It's okay, really," said Bridge. "Describing what my powers are like isn't the same as actually having them, so I never did expect any of you to truly empathize with me or get the way I think and act. Honestly, I can see how I'd be a frustrating person to figure out. I think it's impossible to understand me unless you're me, in other words. And if you were me, then I'd be you, and we wouldn't really know the difference, would we, because I'd be you and you'd be me and maybe we would never know what it was like to be the other..." Bridge grinned at the look Sky gave him. "Even with a power switch, you're still the old Sky. ...I don't think I'd like you any other way." Sky raised an eyebrow, but Bridge's grin merely widened. "Hmm... I've always wondered. What else can Syd's powers absorb besides iron and stuff?" With that, he stood up, walking across the room to try absorbing the sandwich Jack 2 had just made in the synthesizer with his hands. Sky merely shook his head and didn't watch.

Switching their powers back turned out to be a big hassle... because, while the alien criminal was willing to change them back when promised a reduced sentence, the power switches were quite random. It took more than an hour before everyone was back with their proper powers, and the Rangers were sent off to bed, chatting excitedly about the short time they'd been switched... all except Sky, whose conversation with Bridge and time spent with his powers had left him with a lot to think about.

In the days following, the others noticed a big change in Sky. No longer was he so quick to question, argue with, and downright insult his fellow cadets. He could also be seen telling others off when they started to poke fun at or became frustrated with Bridge's rambling way of speaking and thinking, telling them to at least try and see things from his perspective. Sky would gruffly brush them off whenever they asked why he'd started behaving this way, however.

"It's empathy," said Bridge wisely to Jack, Z and Syd as the four ate dinner together about a week after the incident. "I guess he got an overload when he had my powers."

"Wonder if that alien would be willing to switch again so he can become even more tolerable?" Jack joked, and the others all groaned aloud in response.

"No thanks," said Z. "What if he got my powers this time? Can you imagine two Skys?" Jack made a face and shook his head, Bridge and Syd laughed, and the subject changed. When the friends had gone their separate ways, Bridge went to look for Sky, as he'd never shown up to the meal; indeed, he'd been very scarce all day, and when the others had seen him, he'd looked lost in contemplation. Bridge asked around and scoured the whole base, finally finding Sky in a small conference/sitting room near the top. It was a good place to go to be alone, as its location was pretty out-of-the-way, so it was rarely occupied.

"Hey," said Bridge, and Sky, who'd pulled a chair up to the wall of windows along one side of the room, glanced over his shoulder and gave a tiny smile.

"Hey."

"What are you doing all the way up here?" Bridge questioned, grabbing a chair and sitting alongside Sky, relieved that his friend didn't move to get up, as it meant he was ready for company.

"Thinking."

"About what?" Bridge prodded.

"About... about when I had your powers," said Sky, and Bridge looked at him, silently inviting him to go on. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since it happened. It really made me take a good, long, hard look at my attitude and the way I treat people, especially you. I've been trying to be nicer since then."

"We've noticed," said Bridge quietly, smiling softly. "It suits you better, believe me."

"Really?" Sky asked, raising an eyebrow and returning the smile. "...I think so, too. I mean, we've been a team for months now, and there's really no reason for me to keep distancing myself from you guys and treating you like you're... well, anything but my friends. And you like you're anything but my best friend."

"No, there isn't," Bridge agreed. "...I'm glad you see that."

"...Yeah." The two watched the slowly-setting sun in silence for quite a while. Bridge secretly slipped a glove off and could feel a strong sense of contentment and peace radiating from Sky. Then, without even really thinking about what he was doing, he grabbed Sky's hand to hold it. The Blue Ranger didn't flinch, or even look down, instead returning the gesture.

It was dark before the two made the trek back to their dorm room, ignoring the noises of surprise and delighted coos from Jack, Syd and Z as they passed through the rec room, still holding hands. They broke apart to get ready for sleep in their own beds... but, Bridge thought as slumber consumed him a few minutes later, maybe that wouldn't last too much longer.

Stranger things had happened.

(crossposted to shurifanstuffs)

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #20 - [insert lyrics here]

marika_kailaya — Tue, 20 May 2008 16:49:34 GMT

Title: Young Love, Broken Bones, Same Difference
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #20 - I'm sleeping on your folks' porch again, dreaming / She said, she said, she said, "Why don't you just drop dead?" --Fall Out Boy, A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More 'Touch Me'
Rating: PG
Summary: ...see theme?
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

Meki snaps awake with one fist clenched, and Laoidheach wonders if the kid has ever really slept. He is kneeling beside Meki, head tilted in bewilderment because Meki is asleep in front of their house, and it's two in the morning.

Meki realizes there is no threat when he remembers where he is and lowers his fist, rubbing his neck. There's a crick in it from sleeping on the grass. "Hello, Laoidheach," he says nicely. It's dark out here, but Laoidheach is enormous and easily recognizable, and his hair almost glows, anyway. "Why are you awake?"

Laoidheach waves his questions away with a gesture. "Why are you sleeping here?" He's almost concerned. "Did your father kick you out? Not that I'd blame him or anything." Laoidheach can say these things to Meki, because Meki will love him anyway and Laoidheach really would blame Meki's father. Just a little.

"Huh? No, no, I'm waiting for Yuku," Meki says, now grinning like someone who is perhaps clinically insane. He'd only fallen asleep an hour or so ago, he figures.

Laoidheach considers this. "But it's after two," he points out.

"Yeah, I know. I intended to wait for him and, you know, walk him to school." Actually Meki just wants to see Yuku's expression when Yuku comes outside and finds him there, but the school idea makes him sound less demented and more—well, maybe it doesn't make him sound any better. But Laoidheach won't attack him or anything.

"You're stalking him again, then?" Laoidheach says nonchalantly. He's going to leave quietly and pretend he did not find Kobayashi Meki sleeping a few feet from their door. He may also decide to pretend, for his own sake, that Kobayashi Meki is not stalking his son, possibly, he imagines, in a deranged attempt to win his son's very angry affections.

He hopes Yuku won't break Meki's nose again, is all. Because he likes Meki, all stalking aside, and he hates cleaning Meki's blood up (because he's not sure where it's been).

"A little bit, yeah," Meki answers, in the most charming tone he can manage. "He's kind of annoyed with me. Can't remember why, really."

Laoidheach shakes his head. Yuku is always annoyed with Meki. If you ask Yuku, it's why his marks in school are increasingly pathetic. If you ask Laoidheach, Yuku is too uptight.

"I brought him flowers," Meki says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag. "You think he'll forgive me?"

Laoidheach, to his credit, does not bury his face in his hands or strangle Meki. "Flowers, Meki? Cannabis doesn't count."

Meki just shrugs innocently.

Laoidheach sighs. "Well, you better pray to everything that exists and whatever doesn't that Miyako doesn't find you here." He straightens up. The bones in his knees pop as he does so, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Do you want to go for a drink with me?"

That can't be the only reason Laoidheach is awake at this hour.

Then again, this is Laoidheach.

"Nah," Meki says, stretching back out on the ground. It doesn't occur to him that Laoidheach should probably not be asking a student to drink with him, but only because it's a routine. "I'm really tired." There's a spider crawling on his wrist. He ignores it, so Laoidheach has to reach out and swat at it.

He tries not to remark on Meki's sanity. "All right, then," he says, and waves to Meki as he steps out onto the street.

Meki falls asleep too easily for someone sleeping outside, but he is more accustomed to outside than inside, truth be told. Spiders and all.

He does not dream, but then, he never does. When he wakes up, it's bright and he's annoyed because his neck is screaming for mercy and commanding him to sit up and take something for it, or bang it against something, or—something. Yuku is leaning over him, peering at him closely and trying to comprehend the fact that Meki is here at all, and maybe wondering if he should hit him. His face is close enough to Meki's to be worrisome, so Meki just smiles brightly and remembers to keep breathing.

Yuku leans back at the same time Meki sits up, and now Meki's forehead hurts and Yuku is glaring at him and standing up. His books are tucked under one arm, and his hand is on his hip. He's waiting for an explanation.

"So are you still angry at me?" Meki says, pleasantly for someone who is in pain in two places now. His hair is grassy and he's kind of cold, but it doesn't bother him.

Yuku tosses his books at Meki, certainly noticing that one of them hits Meki's chest, but not caring. "Carry my books," he says, offhandedly, and he walks off.

Meki jumps up, grinning, and gathers the books. He doesn’t hurry to catch up with Yuku, and Yuku doesn’t slow down. "Awesome," he says, and Yuku doesn't reply, walking with his arms crossed and his mouth tight to avoid laughing.

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #04 - All Dressed Up

marika_kailaya — Sat, 17 May 2008 18:00:21 GMT

Title: Those Papers Are Forged, You Know
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #04 - All Dressed Up
Rating: PG
Summary: Owaru hazu no nai koi ni yasashii yoake. --See-Saw, Yasashii Yoake
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

"You look ridiculous."

He does look ridiculous, in Meki's defense. It's not that he's wearing something that actually sort of sparkles and that his mother approves of, it's that he's wearing it while he leans against the gate and lights a cigarette.

"It was Raizu's idea," Yuku answers, trying not to prevent any ashes falling on the silk pooled around his feet. It's good silk. It's purple and printed with dusty designs that look like stars. Or sugar, whichever. Meki would choose to describe it as the latter.

"Raizu had a lot of ideas about this wedding," Meki says, fingering one of the strands of beads around the obi. "And we ignored her."

"I couldn't ignore her on this one," Yuku says. He swats Meki's hand away from the obi.

"Why not?"

"She was wearing my jacket," he says, half-guiltily.

Meki stares at him. "So?"

"It was cute."

Meki's not going to comment on the fact that Yuku has serious issues with cute. It could be, and has been, said that Meki has infinite power over him, but one day, Raizu and her frighteningly cute child are going to catch up. And then Yuku's going to be completely screwed. And defenseless. And dressed in an apron.

Instead, he says, "Whatever. Did she at least pay for it?"

"Nope," Yuku says, still more guiltily. "She couldn't have if she'd wanted to."

Meki eyes his expression. "Right. How much did it cost?"

"If I tell you that, you'll want a divorce," Yuku says, looking at his cigarette and deliberately not at Meki. This is because he is trying not to laugh at the fact that the kimono, while not being a bridal kimono, cost about as much as a furisode.

Meki wouldn't laugh at that, but he also wouldn't divorce him over that. They're stuck together, anyway, and the wedding (was it Meki's idea or his? He can't remember) cost ten times as much as the clothes they're wearing.

But maybe that's not a good thing. Then again, they only get one of this particular kind of life.

"You still look ridiculous," Meki says, and he leans beside Yuku, taking his cigarette in the process before Yuku even notices. Meki hasn't smoked in eighteen years. He's not going to make it a habit now, mind you, but it looked nice and he wanted it.

Oh. Maybe it should pick it up again.

Yuku gives him a look that he should be afraid of and simply lights another, and they're silent for awhile. It's late and dark, but the paper lanterns strung everywhere make the scenery and the people glow. There are a lot of people. Meki has no family and Yuku's aunts are in Ireland and haven't been here since Laoidheach died, but somehow, more people than they invited showed up.

And some of them are missing tips of fingers. Neither of them said anything to these people. They're sure they know them, but they're still afraid of them. Eventually they just got tired of saying stuff to anyone at all and ran off to the gates, hopefully unnoticed.

"Where's Ray?"

"He disappeared awhile ago."

When Meki answers that, his voice is sharp. "Where?"

"With Raizu," Yuku says defensively.

"Oh. Okay." Meki's not totally assured, but he'll accept it.

All right, they haven't gone fully unnoticed, apparently, Yuku thinks, because the drag queen that performed the ceremony is running up to them, looking a little flustered. "Er. A crazy man with a knife is looking for you guys."

Neither Meki nor Yuku look at all worried at this.

"What's his hair look like?" Yuku asks her.

"Like he spends more on hair gel than weaponry," the drag queen priestess, whose name they've forgotten, answers, nervously.

"Ah. Well, go get him." Yuku's not moving. He's tired, he's just had a wedding, he's wearing heavy silk in summer (while his husband wears lighter clothing. Meki has more resistance against Raizu), and there's still an hour of the reception to go. He doesn't mind, but his feet hurt.

The drag queen nods and heads back into the crowd, and a few minutes later, Slash, indeed, shows up. He is carrying a switchblade and looking irritated.

"What's up, Slash?" Meki says cheerfully, crushing his cigarette against the grass.

"You didn't invite me," Slash growls.

Yuku thinks on that. "Yes, we did. Must've gotten lost in the mail."

"And you clearly showed up anyway," Meki points out. "So you can put the knife away."

Slash agrees begrudgingly.

He's the only person they know who would hold a knife to them over an invitation.

Before he can say anything else, Meki speaks up again, mostly to avoid questioning from Slash, when they actually forgot to invite him entirely. "How'd you get here, anyway, if you didn't get the invitation?"

"Your kid called me last week," Slash answers. He takes what's left of Yuku's cigarette from him, and Yuku has the appearance of someone who is going to cry if one more person steals his cigarettes.

Slash grins at him like a madman and says nothing.

Meki's more concerned about why the hell Ray contacted Slash. "He's not allowed to talk to you," he says, frowning and crossing his arms.

"His heart was in the right place. He was just trying to save your asses by making sure that if I didn't get an invitation, I wouldn't be completely in the dark."

Then Slash really looks at Yuku. "You look pretty," he says, slightly dumbfounded.

"Pretty?" Yuku asks distastefully.

"I said he looked ridiculous," Meki steps in pleasantly.

"Pretty. I think I'd rather be called ridiculous than pretty," Yuku tells Slash. "You don't have any better adjectives?"

"Nah. You're just pretty."

"I still think it's ridiculous," Meki reassures Yuku.

There is an explosion. Slash is the only one who jumps. Slash has just not had enough to drink, is all. The explosion is accompanied by several other explosions, and a commotion from where the reception is. It's because of the fireworks. The apparently handmade fireworks, at that. They are full of colour and amateurism. They highlight everything and everyone in prisms. They are maybe illegal, but there is nothing in this wedding that hasn't been.

Ray is standing beside Raizu, just close enough to Meki and Yuku so that their innocent smiles and blackened hands are visible. They've lit tall candles so they can see what they are doing, and also probably because Yuku is a pyromaniac.

Meki has to laugh as the last fireworks die out, even though he doesn't know how they pulled it off and even though his son is only thirteen. Like—

"Like bombs in New York City," Yuku muses, snickering.

"What?" Then Slash decides he doesn't want to know and holds up a hand to stop Yuku from replying. He doesn't say anything when Ray and Raizu come up to them and, at Yuku's unspoken command, hand Yuku one of the candles. It'd figure this wedding would involve fire somehow.

Slash thinks he's getting too old to bother with trying to understand them.

Then wax drips onto one of Yuku's sleeves and Raizu and Meki both start yelling at him, even though it was Raizu's candle that dripped.

Slash at least knows to escape while he can.

Bridge/Sky - Power Rangers SPD - #18 Vanity

shurifanstuffs — Thu, 15 May 2008 23:59:33 GMT

Title: A Big Green Dress
Fandom: Power Rangers SPD
Characters: Bridge Carson/Sky Tate
Theme: #18 Vanity
Rating: G
Summary: Slightly cracktastic fic in which Bridge and Sky contemplate the idea of marriage.
Disclaimer/Author's Notes/Spoiler Warning: The characters do not belong to me.

"Have you ever thought about getting married some day?"

The abrupt question startled Sky one night as he and Bridge lay snuggled up together in his bunk. Sky had been idly stroking his boyfriend's hair, for once thinking of nothing, his mind completely at ease. Presently, however, he looked down at Bridge, startled. Married?

"Not necessarily to me, of course!" Bridge said quickly, noticing Sky's expression, "because who's to say we're going to be together even tomorrow or two weeks from now, much less long enough to consider spending the rest of our lives together- mpph," said Bridge when Sky pressed a few fingers over his mouth to shush him.

"What made you think of that?" Sky wanted to know, and Bridge shrugged, turning to bury his face in Sky's chest as his face burned with embarrassment. "I can't say I've ever thought of it, no... and, I hate to say it, but it'll never happen, regardless of whether or not I like the idea. Remember, our relationship as it is right now breaks about a dozen regulations into pieces," Sky reminded him gently. "I think we'd both get kicked out of the force if we tried to get married."

"...Yeah," Bridge sighed. "You're right. Still, it's fun to think about, isn't it?"

"I guess," Sky mumbled, trying to imagine what wedding preparations for himself and Bridge would even be like. He'd been to weddings before when he was younger, but had never seen two men get married, and couldn't begin to guess how it would be different- especially if it was a union of two people like himself and Bridge. Sky couldn't suppress a sudden chuckle at the image of-

"Let me guess, you're picturing me wearing the dress," said Bridge.

"How'd you know?"

"...Well..." Bridge snickered. "I'm kinda picturing you in one, too- hey!" Bridge cried as Sky lightly hit the back of his head. "Why are you smacking me?"

"Because even though as far as I know, it's perfectly acceptable for both of us to be in tuxes, if either of us would end up wearing a wedding dress, it's you. That almost sounds like something you'd love doing, in fact."

"Oh, yeah, sure," said Bridge, rolling his eyes. "Admit it, Sky, you would be a regular Bridezilla, right down to the placement of each sparkly thingy in your dress. Since you love to be in control except when we're having- MMPH." Bridge was silenced this time when Sky clapped his whole hand over his mouth.

"Alright, alright, point taken. Don't go any further. ...Please." Bridge pulled the hand away and scooted up to kiss Sky, a tiny smile on his face.

"Okay, I won't. Now that you mention it, though, I suppose I wouldn't look too bad in a green dress... holding a bouquet of flowers in all of our Ranger colors..." Sky laughed aloud and returned the kiss, and Bridge, encouraged, smirked and kept going. "Maybe some emerald green pumps to go along with it. Can you picture it? Syd and Z helping me do my makeup, or what little makeup I'd need, anyway, since I'm a guy and even though I'd be in a dress I wouldn't want much, then I walk down the aisle, and you'd be standing there in a blue tux..."

"Red," Sky corrected him. "I'd want to wear red on my wedding day, since Dad did."

"Red, then," Bridge nodded, kissing him again. "...You'd look really hot in red, anyway."

"You think I look hot in anything," Sky mumbled, trying to hide his pleasure by resting his chin on top of Bridge's head. Being called attractive by his boyfriend wasn't new by any means, but he enjoyed it more than he cared to say. Especially being thought attractive when wearing his favorite color...

"True," said Bridge. "What else? Of course, we'd have to have a Jewish wedding, or else most of my family probably wouldn't come. Then, at the reception, we could have Syd as our wedding singer... Jack can be the emcee..." Bridge continued in this vein for some time, and Sky was content to let him ramble, as he got sleepier and sleepier the more he went on until he finally mumbled "Oh, and we'd.... yaaawn... have t'have toast..." and let out a snore a few seconds later. Sky cradled Bridge in his arms, gently kissing his forehead, and in spite of himself enjoying the pictures provided by his mind's eye. The more Sky thought about it, though he'd rather wear the dress before he'd admit it, he probably would be a Bridezilla. But not for a bad reason, because he'd want everything to be perfect on such an important day. The people he'd invite... walking his mother down the aisle at the ceremony... then afterwards...

But do I really need all of those things? another voice asked him. Do I really need to be so vain and command everything to be "perfect"? Isn't the one I give the ring to the most important part?

Sky sighed as he, too, began to fall asleep, heedless of the fact that Bridge was drooling onto his chest. It wouldn't happen, the rational part of his brain thought.

But it was fun to dream.

(crossposted to shurifanstuffs)

Kei/Sho - Moon Child - #17 Five More Minutes...

sorry4mydickery — Mon, 12 May 2008 07:37:43 GMT

Title: ...In Bed
Fandom: Moon Child
Characters: Kei and Sho
Theme: #17 - Five More Minutes
Rating: PG for language
Summary: It turns out Sho is not a morning person.
Disclaimer/Author's Notes/Spoiler Warning: The characters depicted here do not belong to me. Also, I use the word "smushed," which feels wrong to me as a writer, but nothing else captures the image I'm looking for quite as well. X3; The title is a reference to to the stupid fortune cookie joke and to Sho's lovably juvenile attitude.

~*~

For once, he was sleeping in.

He laid face-down, naked from the waist up, his arms spread wide on either side of his head. The smooth, tan skin of his broad shoulders and back seemed like a gently sloping artist’s canvas.

He had foregone a haircut last time, looking forward to getting some tiny braided extensions like his brother had recently gotten. His head was turned to the side; the longer hair in the back lightly draped his neck and but his bangs stuck out every which way; if he had known how much his hair resembled a mullet, he would have been offended, but Kei didn’t plan on telling him even after he woke up.

Marring the peaceful scene was the droning snores brought on by a lingering head cold and one of his nostrils smushed closed against the pillow. It looked like he might have drooled a little bit, too. Kei had to stifle a smirk; he imagined the youth’s reaction if Kei were to record a short video clip on Sho’s new cell phone and use it to blackmail him into doing all the laundry and dishes for a couple weeks.

Instead, Kei simply through his weight down heavily on the opposite side of the bed as he sat, bouncing Sho slightly. It had no affect.

~*~

For once, Sho had been trying to go to bed at night rather than dozing during the day so he could stay up with Kei. He had a new job -- an actual normal, honest job -- busing tables at an upscale café. But the boss had started to get annoyed with Sho's tendency to doze off if idle for more than ten minutes. Sho, to his own surprise, had actually grown to like doing something for a living that most people wouldn't consider immoral (or illegal) so he resigned himself to trying to life his life like everyone else -- wake up in the morning, go to work, come home, go to sleep at night. Plus, there was a really pretty, shy waitress that sometimes worked the same hours as him, but he hadn't worked up the nerve to talk to her yet.

The big drawback though was that this schedule meant he was seeing Kei less than he had in years but he thought they could work something out eventually.

Except that his body had decided this arrangement was absolutely no good. It felt like weeks since Sho had actually felt rested, and he was still sleepy for most of the day. He thought it would have been easier after a couple of weeks but waking up in the morning still felt about as appealing as discussing his sex life with his brother, so Sho had once again attempted to murder his alarm clock the last time it went off and this time he succeeded.

~*~

Kei sighed. After a moment of consideration, he finally gave into temptation, brushing aside hair and resting a cold hand on the back of his neck.

“Sho,” he said, dragging his palm down to his shoulder and squeezing lightly, “Wake up.”

Sho grunted and pressed his face into the pillow. Kei shook him harder.

“Sho-o, I’m not your mother. I could just leave you here and let you miss work -- again.”

“Good. Don’t wanna get up anyway.”

“Last night you told me ‘Don’t let me sleep in! Drag me out of bed if you have to!’ I don’t want to actually have to do that. You’re a pain for me to lug around now that you’re so damn tall.” Sho usually took pleasure in picking at Kei’s pride when it came to how tall Sho had grown, so Kei saw no reason not to use it against him.

But really, he didn’t feel like going to all that trouble.

“I’m only going to ask one more time.” Sho let out an obnoxious snore, unable to see the man’s wry smirk or his raised hand.

Kei’s hand went down swiftly and the slap of his palm on Sho’s buttocks was a loud one.

“FUCK, WHAT THE HELL!” Sho protested, curling up in the sheets and grabbing his ass with both hands.

Kei barely managed to stifle his amusement. “I warned you.”

“You just wanted an excuse to touch my hot ass,” he whined.

“You wish,” Kei answered, and this time he did grab the boy, sliding his hands under Sho and the sheet covering him and hoisting him into the air as though he were merely lifting a puppy.

“You bastard! This is totally demeaning! Put me down!” Sho said, attempting to wriggle out of Kei’s grasp, even if it meant falling. But Kei was far too strong for him and simply held on more tightly, carrying him like a rescued damsel as he walked into the living room.

“You should get up on your own next time. I told you I’m not your mother.”

“PUT ME DOWN!”

“Fine.” Kei dumped him unceremoniously on the black leather chaise he himself often dozed on during the day.

Sho, unable to right himself, bounced right off of it and onto the floor.

“I need a job that doesn’t require me to get up in the morning,” Sho groaned.

“Welcome to the world of the normal people,” Kei said with a small, crooked smile. He offered his hand to Sho. He accepted it and stood up.

“Lame,” was Sho's reply, and he followed it up with an unexpected peck on the vampire's cheek before stalking off to the bathroom.

Kei stood frozen in place for several long, thoughtful minutes afterward.

~*~

Bridge/Sky - Power Rangers SPD - #26 Snuggle

shurifanstuffs — Sat, 03 May 2008 00:52:13 GMT

Title: Snuggle
Fandom: Power Rangers SPD
Characters: Bridge Carson/Sky Tate
Theme: #26 Snuggle
Rating: G
Summary: Does what it says on the tin.
Disclaimer/Author's Notes/Spoiler Warning: The characters do not belong to me.

"Sky..."

"Not tonight."

"C'mon, pleeeease?" An all-too-familiar glare (admist some sleepy blinking) was all Bridge got in response to his pleading.

"I said no, just in case you didn't hear me the first 5 or 6 times. I'm just not in the mood to do... that tonight, I want to sleep by myself for once."

"Alright." Bridge sighed with defeat and left Sky's bedside, climbing into his own bunk and closing his eyes, hugging his pillow. He couldn't help but feel a little hurt at his boyfriend's curtness and his refusal; it was perfectly normal for Sky to be that snippy in public, of course, and Bridge was too used it to it there to be affected much by it. But in private he was almost always softer, gentler, more loving... It was also unusual for the two to not be sleeping together in the close confines of a single bunk nowadays. It was so unusual, in fact, that Bridge actually found it difficult to drift off now, badly wanting to be next to his boyfriend, feeling the presence of another body close by, flesh pressing against flesh... Sky quite obviously did not share that want, however, as his quiet snores soon filled the room. Bridge finally managed to fall asleep himself soon after, thankful that at least that familiar noise could lull him.

"GAH!" Bridge yelped some time later when another person's hand on his shoulder abruptly startled him awake, and he felt the hand twitch, rolled over to find himself staring into Sky's mildly surprised face. "Oh... sorry, sorry, you scared me. Did you need something?" Sky grumbled something that almost sounded apologetic under his breath as he got into bed with Bridge. "...Oh, of course. You won't say it, but I know what you're here for. But I thought you weren't in the mood? Unless you thought you weren't but you really were, you just didn't want to admit it because even now when we've been dating for a while you're too proud to ask for-" Bridge's ramblings were silenced when Sky kissed him on the lips, long and hard, a hand on the back of his head pushing him into it.

"...Shut up," Sky mumbled against Bridge's lips when he was done, though not pulling away from him.

"You know you just need to ask when you want to, right? No matter how macho and masculine you are outside of the bedroom, I keep telling you, you should never be too proud to tell your boyfriend when you want to cuddle. I like it when we do."

"I said shut up. Let's not think or talk about it and just do it, alright?" Bridge gave a mock sigh of exhasperation before resting his head on Sky's shoulder, turning so that he could take in his boyfriend's scent. He always smelled like something comforting that Bridge could not quite identify... and today, on top of that, like his favorite body wash and aftershave. Bridge scooted up a little, pulled off one of the special fabric gloves built into his pajamas that covered his hands, put the hand on Sky's arm, and kissed that freshly-shaven jawline. He was pleased when he could feel goosebumps rising on his boyfriend's skin, and even more importantly, feel his emotions changing- love and contentedness rising to cut through the usual emotional barriers Sky had carefully constructed, walls that Bridge had been breaking one by one and went down easier and easier the more time went on.

Satisfied, Bridge slid the glove back on and let his own arms drop to his sides. Sky took his cue, and the two snuggled as close together as they could get, Sky's blue t-shirt and gray pajama pants rubbing against the soft green fabric of Bridge's pajamas. Bridge felt his own giddy shiver of happiness when one arm wrapped protectively around his body even while a strong but gentle hand began to run through his hair, stroking it, and Sky's beautiful lips brushed against the top of his head. There no longer needed to be any words spoken between them... these gestures were quite enough, until some time later, when...

"Sleep," was Sky's request, murmured but still forceful, a command.

A command that Bridge was only too happy to comply with.

Bridge/Sky - Power Rangers SPD - #1 Chocolate

shurifanstuffs — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 21:49:23 GMT

Title: Cream
Fandom: Power Rangers SPD
Characters: Bridge Carson/Sky Tate
Theme: #1 Chocolate
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Bridge and Sky become passionate after Bridge accidentally spills a box of chocolates Sky bought.
Disclaimer/Author's Notes/Spoiler Warning: The characters do not belong to me.

Cream

Sky knew that Jack would most likely mock him for what he was doing.

Z probably would, too. Maybe even Bridge and Syd, as he knew deep inside that he was being ridiculous about the whole thing.

But he didn't really care... not when he had a tasty prize awaiting.

He walked through one of the side entrances into the Delta Base, trying to be casual and cover up the fact that two rectangular packages were bulging underneath the blue work shirt he wore at the same time. He hoped to not run into anybody- that he could get back to his room and enjoy sweet, sweet victory by himself for a while. Of course, he would share some of the spoils of the long motorcycle ride he'd just taken, the wait to acquire what he was looking for- he'd even bought a few things especially for his teammates. But that could come later- when he'd selected and devoured all of his favorites from the larger box first.

He knew it was silly, that it was even stupid to get this worked up, this excited about the simple idea of consuming a box of chocolates... even if it WAS the best handmade chocolate he knew to exist, freshly-purchased from a tiny shop deep in downtown Newtech City. And as far as indulgences went, it was very, very low on the spectrum of unhealthy habits, especially when he partook in his enjoyment only a few times a year. Still, he really couldn't bear the teasing if his friends saw him chomping down on a huge chocolate-covered strawberry, red sweetness ringing his mouth, juice running down his chin, mocking the normally immaculately-neat cadet for his messiness-

Strawberry.

His absolute favorite.

Having one before he got to his room wouldn't hurt anything, could it? He could start early; after all, there seemed to be nobody up and down the corridor as far as he could see. Leaning against the wall, Sky drew the smaller box from underneath his shirt, opened it, selected the biggest of the five strawberries he had purchased and slowly, examined it then reverently put it in his mouth, relishing the taste of it, his teeth biting through the solid outside to the softness inside-

"Hey, Sky!"

He was startled. The boxes fell, the strawberries all staying in but the lid flying off the larger box, scattering the contents from its careful order, all over the floor-

"Ooops." Sky had to bite down a groan as Bridge leaned over to start carefully scooping the chocolate back in. Of course it was him. Bridge wasn't exactly the most stealthy member of B-Squad, but he seemed to have a penchant for traveling silently right before he was about to startle someone. "Time for the monthly indulgance? Except sometimes it's not monthly, but only once every two or three months, but... you know what I mean, it's that time where you buy a whole box of chocolate, hide it and eat all the good stuff yourself before sharing what you don't like." Sky merely gave Bridge The Look, and his boyfriend snickered. "Would you lighten up? I'm just teasing. I know you buy it, you have every right to first choice."

"Good. Because then I'd have to kick your butt," Sky mumbled, gathering up the candy, now scattered and uneven inside its box. "I always make sure I share, don't I?"

"I know. Sorry about that," said Bridge apologetically. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"No big deal. I just don't know which ones are which now, since they're all out of order, but that's only a minor annoyance..."

"Hmmm..." Sky glanced suspiciously at Bridge, who had that "I have a crazy idea" glint in his eye and a little smirk on his lips. "Since I'm here and you're here and the candy's here, you want me to help you find out which one is which? You know, before someone else might dare get something you like and want to eat first?"

"How do you propose to do that?" Sky wanted to know. "...Don't tell me you've been working on a chocolate x-ray machine or something."

"No, nothing like that," Bridge laughed. "It's much more fun than that..."

Not five minutes later, the two men had returned to their dorm room and gotten ready for their little "experiment". Bridge's idea actually excited Sky far more than the prospect of eating chocolate itself did, even though he wasn't going to be the one doing most of the taste-testing. Bridge, for his part, was simply happy that his boyfriend was more than open to the suggestion, eager to get started,

"Hmm... chocolate-covered cherry." Bridge picked up the candy in his teeth, freshly crushed upon Sky's nude chest, and moved up to share it with his boyfriend, relishing the treat pressed between their lips and mututally consumed, cream filling and cherry juice falling unheeded out of the sides of Sky's mouth. Bridge eagerly lapped up the stickiness before selecting another chocolate at random and repeating the process, immensely enjoying the sight. Sky couldn't hold back a grin, then a little moan of pleasure when Bridge's teeth delicately cracked open another chocolate shell, his tongue and fingers spreading the outside and insides all over Sky's chest, rather than bringing it up to his mouth again. "Ooops... how clumsy of me. I really do need to be more careful, don't I?"

"I don't know... I think I rather like it- NRGH- when you're clumsy- GAH in situations like this... GRRGH," Sky gasped out, when the Green Ranger began sucking up the jelly from his skin... then abandoned the chocolate entirely in favor of taking one of Sky's nipples into his mouth, expertly working the rapidly-hardening nub, pleased to see that Sky was also getting hard down below. Indeed, he must have been as aroused as Bridge himself was, especially after seeing the cherry's remnants dribbling from his boyfriend's mouth. It took all of his self control to not blow when Sky reached down and grabbed his cock, began to stroke it while Bridge played with his nipples; he was forced to reach down and stop those hands, as another idea occurred to him.

"Wait..." Bridge said, a slow smile spreading across his face. Sky barely had time to wonder what he was up to now when all of a sudden, Bridge had turned completely around on the bed, presented that tantalizingly hard cock to suck on, even as Bridge's own mouth descended on Sky's erection, a tongue swirling around the head of it before he took the entire length in-

It was the first time they had tried this position, and Sky soon abandoned all capability for rational thought, as all of his brain cells were tuned to trying to blow Bridge even as he himself was being sucked off. Later, Sky would be proud of himself for keeping a handle on his lust, his desire for release as long as he did, as it usually took all he had to not climax within a few moments of Bridge closing in on him. Bridge, for his part, found it hard to not come before Sky- something he never allowed to happen, even on the rare occasions when Sky was the one leading- getting off on the muffled moans his boyfriend made, and even moreso the idea that that beautiful mouth would soon be filled again-

"Frrrrgh," Sky finally grunted, which may have been an expletive, as he shot his load into Bridge's mouth, coming harder than he ever could remember. Expecting this, having felt it coming on with his psychic powers, Bridge managed to swallow all of Sky's come, and let himself blow as soon as he'd let Sky's fading erection go. He turned back around, pleased to witness more creamy whiteness dribbling out of the side of his boyfriend's mouth, and hurriedly pushed himself forward in order to hold Sky's hands back from wiping it up, licking up the come from the sides of Sky's face, then leaning in to capture those pretty lips in a kiss, allowing them to taste Sky's seed together, even as they'd allowed each other to taste the candy earlier.

When they were all done, Sky lay limp, sweaty and panting as Bridge curled against his side, pleased that he felt their mutual satisfaction through his hands.

"Well," Sky finally managed. "That... was... good."

"Tasted nice," said Bridge with a wry grin, leaning in to mark his shoulder with a bite. "I hope next time it's not another two months before you buy a box of candy, though..."

(crossposted to shurifanstuffs)

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #19: Humility

marika_kailaya — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 20:53:08 GMT

Title: Hideously Mortal
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #19 - Humility
Rating: PG
Summary: Years later on, I saw your face, in line to catch the morning train / You looked like you'd been softened, like you'd never really loved the pain. --Stars, 'Barricade'
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

Yuku had grown accustomed to not necessarily knowing what to expect when he arrived home every day. When he'd lived alone, he'd expected to see his cat, and often that his cat had attacked something like a roll of toilet paper and strewn it across the floor. Sometimes he expected not be able to get into his apartment easily if some books had fallen. With Meki and Ray, he would not be surprised if he walked in to discover his cat dyed green.

So he wasn't exactly shocked when he came home late to see Meki standing against the wall, hanging up the phone with a pale face and a frown. Unnerved, yes. Surprised, no.

"Rieko has died," Meki said, without greeting him. Meki's expression was strange.

"Oh." Yuku wished he could've felt more shocked, since this was apparently a thing. "Who's Rieko?" He felt mildly guilty not knowing.

Meki stared at him, mystified that he was the one with the memory loss and Yuku was the one not knowing who Rieko was. "We lived with her for half a year. She had sixteen cats and worked in a cafe?"

Yuku thought for a moment. "Hair colour?"

"Black."

Yuku didn't say anything.

"She kept it in a bun."

"Rieko! Yeah. She named her cats after the wives of sixteen dead rock stars."

Meki tried not to say anything about the way Yuku's mind worked.

Yuku frowned. "Wait. Did you say she died?"

"Her lungs gave out."

"Why?" Yuku remembered Rieko very well. He might not have remembered her name, but he certainly remembered her. She'd been a monument to clear-cut sober sanity, ignoring all the cats. She'd kept close to them and admonished them. And she'd been perfectly healthy back then.

But, he admitted, that was a long time ago.

"Cocaine," Meki said, his forehead wrinkled with a sad combination of disappointment and confusion.

Yuku heard his intake of breath rather than felt it. "That doesn't make any sense," he said, frowning. "Are you sure it was Rieko?"

"She managed to contact me a few years after. She'd gotten very sick – it wasn't fatal, it was just incurable – and lost her job, and it went sort of stupid from there. I tried to help her out, but I think she'd already taken her inspiration from me." Meki said that slightly cynically.

"And she's dead. How'd you find this out?"

"Her roommate found the number in her things. She remembered me and called to ask us to the funeral. Rieko didn't have any relatives. It's just – when I last heard from her, she was better."

Yuku didn't feel like his feet were completely connected to the floor. He could not recall any of the other deaths much hitting him. At the very least, they hadn't affected him as much as this. Not even the ones in the newspapers that he'd never be informed of in any other way. You had to think about it – you had to understand how it could go, and how sometimes, being connected to – to them, for fuck's sake, could alter where you'd turn.

They'd like to have said they knew perfectly well how it could've ended up, but they were still alive. Funny how much stronger and more dangerous a situation was than you. Humiliating, maybe.

Meki looked like he might've said something, even though there were so many complexities in this that it would've been nearly impossible to make a point, but Ray came in then, loaded with books and looking like his brain had been half-eaten by some of them.

Meki glanced at him. "You're over an hour late," he said, crossing his arms. He looked more displeased than was quite necessary for this. "Why didn't you call?" It was very difficult to keep the suspicion out of his question and replace it with irritation when even the worry was outweighing that.

Ray blinked at him. "I–"

"He called me, actually," Yuku said quickly. "He was studying, for, god, something. He didn't know I'd be late, too. Er. Neither did I."

"I was fairly certain one or both of you had been kidnapped by a large man named Omar or something," Meki mused, and then he turned his attention back to Ray, who was looking closely at him with a concerned expression. There was a note covered in page numbers stuck to his left cheek and messy homework-related kanji scrawled on the back of his hand, and this disorganization was another thing he'd picked up from Meki. It would've made Meki laugh at him on any other day, but he didn't feel like seeing himself in Ray today. "Right, then, that's all right."

"Omar? Are you okay?" Ray wasn't really worried about Meki's ideas of where his family had been. That much was normal for Meki.

"An old friend died," Meki said, and then he rubbed the back of his head like it ached and asked, "Do you need any help with that?" He pointed to Ray's stack of books and notes.

"No. I'm trying to do a really annoying project, but I think I'll pass if I can bribe Atsuko to help me," Ray answered, deciding he would let it go for now.

"Atsuko?"

"My stalker. She gets the highest scores in that subject, apparently," Ray said cheerfully.

Yuku looked at him flatly. "You're asking a stalker for help on a project?"

"No, I'm bribing a stalker for help."

"I don't know if I should stop you or compliment you," but Ray was already heading upstairs, mildly triumphantly. "By the way, dinner will be ready in – oh." Yuku looked around the kitchen and realized he had just gotten home and hadn't made dinner. "Aw, hell, you'll know. Alternately," he called upstairs, because Ray had stopped on the top step and was snickering at him as he looked around with more worry and discovered he hadn't planned anything, either, "you will starve."

Ray shrugged innocently and disappeared.

"When's the funeral?" Yuku asked Meki as he opened cabinet doors to find something easy. He was tired now, even though he hadn't been when he'd gotten home.

"Tomorrow. I think her roommate and a couple of people who'd watched out for her last year are the only ones who will make it."

"Yeah."

"Hey. Why didn't you call?" Meki said suddenly, getting out dishes and ingredients.

"Ah, well," Yuku said, smiling none-too-cheerfully, "I was late because I started arguing with the head librarian."

Meki rolled his eyes. "Over?"

"Well, it was sort of like being in university, really. A fat man who's read more books than you only because he's at least thirty years older than you stands there and yells at you."

"Yuku."

"My cell phone being on, and then somehow my parenting skills, and then my form of transportation, and then whether or not he was wasting both his and my time by arguing with me."

"You were half an hour late for that?"

"Yes."

"That man is an idiot."

"I personally think he just loves to see me angry," Yuku said, shrugging and nearly dropping the pork on the floor in the process.

"Of course," Meki said derisively, and they finished the dinner without any more mention of Rieko.

It was probably a bad thing to avoid, all in all, but they just couldn't deal with noticing their own mistakes embodied in a corpse tonight.

***

Rieko's funeral was small. It was quiet and solemn and traditional, except not with the absence of the people who'd known her before. There were photographs of her, but the only recent one made her look exactly like the body. Here was their proof she'd died.

They sat through it mostly numbly, and they went home silently, confirmed that Ray was not only still alive but had made dinner (there were slightly red burn marks on his hands. It was sort of cute). His reasoning for this was that, looking back on yesterday, Yuku was probably getting too old to do these things efficiently. Yuku called him an asshole, and Meki made Ray his favourite tea for that comment alone. They distracted themselves by interfering (his term; in all actuality his project looked like it'd gotten attacked by the cat) in his homework until midnight, at which point they noticed what time it was and asked him why he was still awake when he had to be up at six tomorrow.

Ray was pretty sure they'd acquired some rare and bizarre form of dementia, but he was also sure something was wrong, and that it would probably not be brought up around him.

They returned to their silence in semi-darkness. There were plenty of things that might need to be said, but they didn't have the energy or the words. They felt, slightly, like they'd just had their potential fates shoved in their faces.

Rieko hadn't even started out that way. They had. Rieko was dead, and they were quite alive and well. Meki felt upsettingly young knowing this and even worse connecting it to how many times their situation had been similar.

It wasn't that they forgot, Meki thought, how crazy it was that they got out. They weren't even lucky. That had little to do with it. And they hadn't pulled some trick of an idiot's idea of growing up, because that, of all things, had even less to do with it. But they'd still made it out, breath intact. They just forgot how easy it was to get in.

Meki had to offer the circumstances some respect. A sort of sick, muted respect, but enormous respect all the same. It was simple to say these things were nothing until they kicked your ass and set the date for your cremation long before you yourself knew it.

And it never actually ended. People like Rieko still had your phone number on hand and you never, ever expected her to call you begging for help, but that's the way it went. Oh yes, this insisted on respect, but it was the worst thing to have to respect.

Yuku reached for his hand from a short distance in a warm room filled with books and their son's schoolwork that he had neglected to put away by, admittedly, no fault of his own. Meki took it with relief.

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #27: Forgive without forgetting

marika_kailaya — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 02:21:42 GMT

Title: —but this is not the finish.
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #27 - Forgive without forgetting
Rating: PG
Summary: Yuku'd like to be forgiven, but he's not sure that's possible at this point.
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

"You didn't have to do that," Meki says in a quiet voice, and Yuku is perfectly aware that he does not mean re-bandaging Meki's left arm or making Meki's dinner. His tone is too sober for that. But Yuku would like it to mean anything but this, so he stays silent for a few minutes.

"I saved your life," he finally answers sharply, and then he says, "I know." He looks sternly at the bloody bandages like they owe him the right words to say. Meki's arm still bleeds, even though it's been a week. Human flesh is so much easier to break than demon hide, and you can't take these wounds to a doctor. 'Well, y'see, Lord Shi – he's a big powerful demon lord but he's dead now, so don't worry – hit my arm directly with his claws, which are sort of poisonous to humans, so I'm going to need a sorceress, stat.'

Yeah. Right.

Yuku just hopes Meki's arm won't stay paralyzed. That's the biggest thing.

"You wanted out," Yuku mumbles when Meki doesn't respond. He thinks he has to explain himself and apologize. Their human lives haven't been so hot, he thinks, trying to view the scars and the notoriety and all the times they haven't had anything to save their asses or keep them from starvation with the eyes of someone to whom this is just not normal. But he doesn't even have to apologize for that, really. He has to apologize for how he started it.

They could've both died in Nagekawashii. It would've been easier.

"I wanted to be with you," Meki says. Offhandedly.

Yuku ties the bandages and sits up straighter, looking out the kitchen window from the table. He hasn't bothered to cap the bottle of rubbing alcohol that Meki almost knocked over when he put it on the wound. He should. "You were going to be killed within six months." True. Also true that Meki would've resigned himself to that.

Meki's eyes are slightly unfocused. He is likely thinking this over. They escaped Lord Shi for thirty years as humans and finally destroyed him, but was it any better than it had been in the Nage? They've been homeless. They've also lived on the streets, but that was where they had turned. The homelessness was not. The controversy was not. Everything before and in-between and some of what was during was not.

You can't, Yuku realizes distantly, survive two lives when the first one's already drained you. It hasn't occurred to him before, not even once, but they have managed to find one another in two worlds and lose one another for eight years in one. Meki's lost his memory once. His brain is fragile from that. He believed for most of his human life that Yuku had destroyed him to get him out. He had, but the reasons, the reasons behind it had to count. All this, Yuku is sure, is also his fault, so fuck it, he should apologize for that, too.

This just keeps getting harder.

"I'm sorry," Yuku says, apologizing for this, and, oh right, for having gone after him. Hell, freaking out and chasing Meki into the human world had just made it worse.

Meki looks at him quizzically. "Why?"

"You regret this."

"I don't regret, Yuku," Meki says pointedly.

"You're sad, then. Therefore I am sorry. We could stop discussing this."

Meki raises his eyebrow. "We could."

"Then–"

"Where'd you get that?" Meki interrupts him, pointing to a scar on Yuku's arm. "I don't remember that one."

"I got stabbed two years ago," Yuku answers promptly, because it's an interesting scar and he's used to being asked about it. Just, usually he lies.

Meki's expression becomes faintly upset. Of course he hadn't been there. It scares him, more than anything else, to think of what Yuku has done in the past eight years, knowing how ruthless he'd been before that. It started with Laoidheach's death, but it became merely how he was. Meki had disapproved more than he could say, but he also understood it, and so he just hadn't said anything. "Why?"

"He was pissed off because I shot his brother in the heart," Yuku says. "Er. Because his brother tried to hurt my student."

"Why?" Meki repeats, looking even less together now.

Yuku considers how to phrase this. "There was a controversy over a book," and he sees Meki recognize this. Yuku's name had been all over the news during that.

"This is why I'm sad," Meki says, looking like he'd cross his arms if one of them worked. "Because it seems to me like–"

"There's been a lot of useless shit where we could've died in even more painful ways than by Lord Shi and yet none of that had to happen," Yuku finishes, feeling ill. And now we are here, permanently scarred and permanently carrying damn near hilarious reputations, and we are even potentially permanently crippled in several different ways and your son's memory of Shi can't be reversed and must be dealt with and we are three hundred years old and there's been quite enough of this and after we die here we'll still just have to go back there, and fucking hell, I need a nap. He doesn't say that. He wants to. He doesn't have the breath this morning.

"Yeah. It seems sort of ridiculous, I think, but. Whatever. I don't regret if it you don't," he says dryly. He places his left arm in his lap using his right and leans against Yuku.

"Are you angry," Yuku says, "that I got you out in such a way?" Meki's capacity for trusting people is a little fucked up, Yuku thinks. It's the way that's going to be, no matter how clearly he knows the truth.

"For destroying me? I forgive you," and it's the stupidest thing to say you forgive someone for. His human brain barely computes with it.

Yuku closes his eyes. He opens them and for some reason he notices Meki's hair. He's kept it short for years now, but it's tangled still. He rests his head in it and wraps his arms around Meki. He really does need sleep. He needs a lot of things, probably, like to gain weight and lose the pills and to stop staying in the thought process that this is going to end soon, again, and Meki is going to be gone, and it's going to be horrible.

That thought process is why he doesn't eat.

As long as Meki forgives him for this. That's all. He doesn't even have to be happy here (but Yuku knows he is, past the worst thing, the separation that has only just been stopped. It is why they are still here).

"Meki–"

"Thank you." Only Meki would thank someone for the same thing he has been so angry with them for. It's a pretty big thing to forgive someone for, faking betrayal and killing them to get them through the barrier.

Yuku wants to cling to Meki in a way that he thinks is purely idiotic. "All right," he says, and he begins to cry. It's the sleep deprivation. It's the withdrawal. It's the blood loss. It's something, fuck knows what, but Yuku thinks he has to have a suitable excuse. He cries mostly into Meki's hair.

This, Meki says, is also forgiven, but only because his hair needed washing.

Meki's an asshole.

Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #30: Love

marika_kailaya — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 17:59:47 GMT

Title: Four Syllables
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #30 - Love
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes it's good to speak out of code. Once every fifteen years, maybe.
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.

It wasn't that they weren't good with words. They just didn't bother with them. It was senseless, and the phrase itself had a tendency to make them laugh or else cringe in almost all situations. It was, in the backs of their quite inhuman minds, one of the stranger things humanity had ever come up with.

However, the first time Meki actually told him he loved him outside of 'fuck you' and various threats, they had just realized they couldn't beat one another in a fight, and had ended up in considerable amounts of pain on the ground in the outskirts of Kyoto.

"I love you, you know," Meki said, cheerfully for someone who was already developing bruises and whose left shoulder was not in any normal position.

Yuku looked at him curiously while Meki tried to shift the bad arm and instead accidentally hit Yuku's side, making a mark Yuku hadn't been aware he'd had ache. "Even though I almost kicked your ass?" he said, indifferently.

"Actually I almost kicked yours," Meki pointed out.

Yuku absentmindedly twisted his fingers into Meki's hair, marginally relieved that there was no blood there. Meki was probably right, thinking back. Yuku might've been more ruthless, but Meki was still stronger. He wasn't going to admit that, though. "Well, maybe there was potential asskicking on both sides."

"That sounds right," Meki agreed, touching, gingerly, a scratch on Yuku's face. He was quiet for once, not really annoyed by Yuku tugging strands of his hair and tangling them into his fingers. Meki's hair was sweaty and there was a bruise where Yuku's hand was, but neither of them cared much.

Meki leaned over to kiss Yuku, making the corners of Yuku's mouth turn up slightly. "I think," Meki said, barely half-thoughtfully, "I love you because you almost kicked my ass."

Yuku loosened his grip on Meki's hair. "My reasons are probably equally stupid," he said, like it was one of the less stupid things he'd ever heard. He did smile then, mostly at having noticed the purple and blue skin at the edge of Meki's mouth.

"That's all right, then."

The second time Meki told Yuku he loved him was possibly a good sixteen years later. They were half-asleep and still bandaged from Lord Shi's attack three weeks beforehand.

"I love you," Meki said, in a babbly tone, "really, really ridiculously. Stupidly." He almost sounded baffled, holding onto Yuku in a possessive, demonic way only a fox could pull off.

Yuku didn't respond. His voice might've been muffled against Meki's collarbone, anyway. They slept in a way that looked painful and very nearly was. Meki's elbow, for instance, had been lodged into Yuku's shoulder for awhile. Yuku was no longer sure which limbs belonged to him, and Meki's toes were somewhere near his ankle.

"Really, you should marry me. That'd be interesting," Meki said absently.

"Probably," Yuku said. He studied Meki for a second or two, and Meki didn't look away, which was, at this point, strange. He pressed his fingers against Meki's temples, without thinking about it. "Do you love me," he asked, very quietly, because it was a heinous question, "or do you remember loving me?"

"That's a truly idiotic question."

"Yeah. Answer it."

Meki did think for a moment on the answer, and Yuku wasn't sure he liked that or not. "I remember it," he said finally. In the half second following that, Yuku tried to tell himself this was still progress, and anyway, he couldn't trust it to have stayed the same.

"From last year," Meki went on dryly. "You were a shitty librarian on top of everything else, but I did love you. Again, stupidly."

Yuku let out his breath and let go of Meki's face. He stretched out his legs, meeting the bones in Meki's ankles, and he didn't say anything.

[Fanfic] Akanishi Jin/Kamenashi Kazuya -Johnny's Entertainment - #14 - Trees

misaseba — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 15:19:25 GMT

Title: The Birds And The Otters
Fandom: Johnny's Entertainment
Characters: Akanishi Jin/Kamenashi Kazuya
Theme: #14 - Trees
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Somo: Jin watches Doubutsuen and now wants Kame to bite all his food into tiny-sized portions. He also comes across an epiphany, "wait, you mean those kinds of advances don't work?"
A/N: Written for Somo's prompt from the Akame fic meme. ♥ I tried to keep it as canonically correct as it can be from an Akame fangirl's point of view. XD The Doubutsuen episode Jin was supposed to have watched was the one from 2008.03.08. You can download it here, or you can watch Kame's part on online streaming sites, but "Jin's epiphany" is not included in Kame's part.
(BTW. This is not related to the story in any case, but WATCH THIS TO SEE AIBA'S PROPOSAL. Aiba, you're such a silly womanizer, I love you. ♥)
Beta-ed by xshinystars. Thank you!
Word Count: 1,903

The Birds And The Otters