Please, be gentle...this is the first time I've written anything close to lemon-scented. I'm still relatively new to this whole yaoi dealie. Additionally, this was intended to be a single story, but now that it's done a sequel has started to insist on being written...
This follows anime continuity--I started this before I got hold of the manga, and can't read Japanese well enough to draw characterizations from it as it is. So in my special little universe Tatsuha and Ryuichi have never met, before now.
What You Wish For
X-parrot
It was just chance, really, that he ended up there at all. Ayaka-chan had mentioned wanting to visit her boyfriend that weekend, and Tatsuha felt obliged to assist, out of some lingering thread of filial duty, and innate propriety with pretty young ladies. And for the chance to get out of the house, away from his father's all-seeing eye. Too long under that pressure and he'd start behaving unmonkly--well, moreso. Besides, it wasn't that far to Tokyo, and what better way did he have to spend five hours?
By mid-afternoon, after dropping Ayaka off at Nakano's place, he decided he was too tired to go back that night and headed over to his brother's instead. Eiri always let him crash at his flat--not happily, but he wouldn't stop him. Especially not if Shindou were in; Shuichi couldn't deny a pitiful face, and Eiri couldn't deny Shuichi, not when it mattered.
Shuichi was in; he heard them from out in the hall, knocked on the door and listened to the sound of one of the most popular voices of contemporary Japan twisted into a whine uncannily like a basset hound's. "Nee...pleeease, Yuki!"
"I told you, I can't."
Footsteps crossed the floor and then the door wrenched open. "'Afternoon, aniki," Tatsuha said amiably. Eiri's yellow eyes flickered over his brother; then with a spare nod of acknowledgment he turned and marched back to his lover.
Who was currently trying to win Eiri's concession by way of maximum strength puppy-dog eyes. They were open so wide it looked painful. "Yo, Shuichi," Tatsuha greeted him, following his brother inside.
"Hi," Shuichi returned distractedly. "Yuki, onegai shimasu, you said you'd go before--"
"Before my publisher issued the new deadline. I don't have time for parties now, not if the manuscript is going to be anywhere near ready by next Tuesday."
"It's not like it's a real party, it's just a cocktail thing. K's only making me go 'cause a couple of the backers of the album are going to be there. They want to meet me and I gotta make a good impression--"
"And I could help with that?" Eiri asked acerbically.
"You make good impressions on people when you want to," Shuichi replied, undeterred. "And I'm always better when I'm with you."
"I can't go," Eiri said. "I'm sorry." He didn't particularly sound so, but for him even to say it was something. In truth it was impressive that he was putting up with this argument at all, rather than simply walking out, or kicking the instigator out. Tatsuha sometimes wondered if Shuichi really had any idea how much he had changed his lover.
Not that he had any problem understanding the reasons, of course. It seemed to be an Uesugi family trait, falling for rock stars. And Shuichi was so damn adorable.
Even now, with his face puckering in preparation for tears. Eiri sighed the sigh of one long-suffering. "Can't you go with K, if he's the one behind this ordeal?"
"K's already coming," Shuichi said. "Everybody's coming. Hiro's even got a date. You're the only one who won't be there..." And, from his expression, the only one who counted.
Eiri looked in desperate need of a cigarette--he must have left his pack in the other room. Or gone through it already. "Alright, why don't you--why don't you go with Tatsuha?"
Knowing better than to be arbitrarily drawn into a lover's quarrel, Tatsuha protested, "Hey, why would I want to--"
"Sakuma Ryuichi will be there, right?" Eiri added offhandedly.
"--kill you, since I'm sure you'll give me that invitation if I ask nicely," Tatsuha finished without missing a beat, dropped to his knees before his new best friend and clasped Shuichi's hand in urgent supplication, "Please please please please please--"
"All right," Shuichi agreed, bemused.
"Ya-HOO!" Tatsuha shouted, at enough decibels to rattle the window panes.
It took a little while to overcome the sheer shock of realizing that he was going to meet his Sakuma--Sakuma Ryuichi--Sakuma Ryuichi of Nittle Grasper--live, in person, for real. After which the dilemmas of his rash decision began to occur to him. "What will I say? Would it be rude to ask for a photo? What do I wear? I didn't bring anything for this--"
"You can borrow something," Eiri said, and padded after his brother to the bedroom, where Tatsuha proceeded to try on every jacket in his closet.
"What about this one? Too dull, I think, I don't want to be mistaken for one of the walls, but that one's way too flashy, gotta look like I have some taste--"
"Honestly." Eiri rolled his eyes. "You sound like a girl dressing for a prom."
"Aniki, this is far more important than a dumb school dance. Now do you think this shirt clashes with these shoes?"
"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Shuichi remarked. "It's supposed to be formal, but I'm not wearing a tie, and I'm pretty sure Sakuma-san won't be either."
"What's your problem, anyway?" Eiri asked. "It's not like you've never seen him before. You've gotten his autograph, haven't you?"
"Six times," Tatsuha confirmed. "But I've never actually gotten to meet him, speak with him..." He lost a good five minutes of precious planning time to a vision of Sakuma-sama, wearing anything whatsoever, actually in front of him, talking to him, aware of him...
In this manner did Eiri and Shuichi manage to outfit him decently and get him outside by the time K picked them up in his van. He was fine for the drive; it wasn't until he was at the entrance to the hall that his legs locked. Behind the wooden doors he could hear the murmur of mingling voices and soft jazz. Impossible to pick out any individual, but he could almost swear--
"Come on," Shuichi said, and gave him a light shove on the back to propel him through the doors.
If anyone attended their appearance Tatsuha didn't notice, too busy scanning the crowd for one face. He didn't spot any sign at first glance, strained his eyes as he searched everyone again, and then Shuichi pointed, and the crowd parted like a sea to reveal, standing in a halo of golden light--
Well, no; in fact he was in a corner, partially obscured by a tall potted shrub. He wore tight black jeans and a lace-trimmed waistcoat which wouldn't have been out of place in Europe three centuries ago but looked even more stylish on him here and now, and was apparently engaged in conversation with two balding men in suits.
Upon closer observation, however, Tatsuha realized that 'conversation' was putting it too strongly. The shorter of the men was talking, and had been at some length to tell from his steady monotone. His associate was nodding emphatically with every sentence. And Sakuma Ryuichi--
Sakuma Ryuichi was eating grapes. In one hand he clutched a large bunch of dark purple wine grapes, and as the man before him prattled on, he repeatedly brought the cluster to his mouth, closed his lips around a single grape and sucked it off its stem, thus devouring them one by one.
Tatsuha had never so badly wanted to be a fruit.
His observation was interrupted by Shuichi, cheerfully mindless of the muted tone of the event, caroling, "Sakuma-san!" as he waved.
Ryuichi glanced across the room to them and shouted, "Shuichi's here!" He handed the grape stem to the startled conversationalist, then launched himself, with an impressive hurdle over the plant, at Shuichi.
The younger rock star, braced for the reaction, staggered but managed to keep his footing as Ryuichi happily squeezed the life out of him, babbling, "Shuichi, they said you'd be here and maybe we could do a song together though Tohma said maybe not--"
"Ah, maybe, Sakuma-san." Shuichi pried Ryuichi off his neck, set him down much as one would place an expensive vase on a table, and said, "This is my friend Tatsuha, he's Yuki's brother, you remember Yuki, right? He's a big fan of yours."
"Who, Yuki?"
"No, Tatsuha."
"Oh!" Ryuichi flashed a stunning smile and bowed. "Hajimemashite!"
"What an--I mean--Hajimemashite! Dozo yoroshiku!" Tatsuha bowed in return, then found it difficult to straighten up again, what with all the blood rushing to his head. In fact everything seemed to be going hazy, flashing indigo blue, the exact color of Sakuma Ryuichi's eyes up close--
"Eh!" He felt Shuichi prop him upright again. "Tatsuha?"
"Is Tatsuha-kun okay?" a worried voice asked--and he realized it was Ryuichi, Sakuma Ryuichi sounding concerned for him--"Maybe he's hungry?" Ryuichi was asking.
"Maybe," Shuichi agreed. "He did skip dinner."
"Then he's gotta eat!" A hand grabbed his own and began to draw him, stumbling, toward the buffet.
Tatsuha raised his head, focused on the hand pulling him, the arm attached, frilled sleeves, dark coat. "Sakuma-sama--uh, san--" he stammered--holding his hand, flesh to flesh, he was touching--
"Here," Ryuichi said. They had reached the table. Contact was broken so the rock star could point with both hands. "Those things with the cheese are yummy, so is the sushi. Do you like hotdogs? Those little sausages taste just like them--" Before Tatsuha knew it he was planted on a folding chair by the buffet, a paper plate loaded with hors d'oeuvres in his lap.
He picked up a miniature pastry, tasted it, then dared look to his right. Sakuma Ryuichi leaned against the table beside him, watching. "You have to remember to eat," he said earnestly. "It's very important. K used to make me eat if I forgot. Do you know K? He's with Shuichi now but he's my friend too."
He had seen that smile before, so utterly, brilliantly happy, but only on screens or distant stages. This close it was blinding. Tatsuha lowered his eyes. "Arigato gozaimasu..." Ah, damn it, he was sounding like a shy girl on her first date--think, think. He could sweet-talk any woman under the sun, any guy either, so why was his tongue flopped in his mouth like a dead fish? If he didn't say something soon he was going to walk away--
"So you like Nittle Grasper?" Ryuichi asked.
"Y-yes!" Tatsuha gasped. "I mean, I love you--your music--I love your music! I've got all your CDs and I've been to your concerts--" Eighteen times in fact, including two in America, which had cost him most of his savings just to get there.
"Nori-chan and Tohma are here," Ryuichi said. "Do you want to meet them, too?"
"No! I mean, um...I would, but--I've met Tohma before, he's married to my sister." Not that that counted for much. The wedding had been such a small, formal affair, and he didn't visit Mika often. Tohma-san was technically his brother-in-law but Tatsuha didn't feel anywhere near the kinship with him that he did with Shuichi.
Or with Tohma's bandmate here...
Who was abruptly gone. And then back again, before Tatsuha's heart could skip more than a beat, accompanied by a pretty lavender-haired lady he instantly recognized.
"This is Noriko-chan," Ryuichi supplied unnecessarily. "And this is Tatsuha. He's Tohma's brother-in-law!"
"You came with Shuichi, right?" Noriko asked after they exchanged greetings.
"Hai. Aniki, Yuki Eiri, couldn't make it, so I was the closest available substitute."
Noriko returned his smile. "You're a loyal brother. You'd have had to pay me to come here if I hadn't been obliged."
"Yeah, well, the band could take lessons from you, but there is free food. I could think of worse places to be." His eyes of their own accord kept slipping off her lovely curves and onto Ryuichi, who had produced a battered pink rabbit from some mysterious pocket and was making it do a jig on the table.
The ubiquitous bunny, of course. He had seen it in pictures, read of it in interviews. He had had dreams about that bunny. He didn't want to know what Freud would make of that.
"Tatsuha-kun's a Nittle Grasper fan," Ryuichi said, looking up from the toy's dance.
"Oh? Would you like an autograph?"
"Ah, no, thank you, Ukai-san, I already have...some."
"I see." He dragged his eyes back to Noriko to find her studying him with an unnerving air of comprehension. "Well, I hope you have a good evening, Tatsuha-kun."
And she was gone, leaving him alone again with Ryuichi. He found her presence had loosened his tongue, at least, mustered the breath to ask, "Is that Kumagoro?"
"Yes!" Ryuichi grinned. "You know Kumagoro?" He cocked the bunny's head inquisitively.
Tatsuha patted its squishy nose. "I saw a picture of you with him in a magazine."
"Oh! Photos! Kumagoro and I love those!" Ryuichi's eyes shone. "You know," he went on, "Kumagoro likes to sing, too."
"Really?" Tatsuha blinked, trying to imagine Ryuichi singing in a rabbit's voice, and having too much success. Would it be the falsetto from 'Moondrift'? Maybe that brief snatch of perfect soprano in 'Sensitive'...
"He's got his own video!" Ryuichi confided. "Though Tohma didn't want to sell it, so it didn't play anywhere. But I have it."
"You..." A Sakuma Ryuichi video that no one had seen? He was asking before he had a second to think, "Could I borrow that sometime?"
"Sure! Or you can come over to watch it. Tohma just bought me a new TV, it's really big and neat."
Was that a personal invitation to Ryuichi's residence? "I'd love to," Tatsuha said, trying not to hyperventilate. It must have been the lack of oxygen which made him continue, "Is tonight good for you?"
"Tonight?" The tousled head cocked in precise reflection of the rabbit's. "You don't like the party?"
"It's okay, I guess, it's...not really, no."
"Oh, good! I don't either. Nobody's having fun. Bo-ring!" Ryuichi stuck out his tongue in the general direction of the affair.
Tatsuha laughed, unable to help himself, and stood. "I'll go tell Shuichi--"
"No, you have to finish eating first," Ryuichi proclaimed, and shoved the plate at him again.
"Of course," Tatsuha complied. He would need his energy. Under Ryuichi's bright watchful gaze he began gulping hors d'oeuvres fast enough to choke, only to pause mid-swallow. "Ah, Sakuma-san?"
"Hai?" He was rocking back and forth on his toes like an impatient child, Kumagoro dangling in one hand.
"Can you pinch me?"
"Nnn?" Ryuichi reached out and caught a fold of skin on his arm, twisted. "Like that?"
"Ouch!" It had hurt. This was real. He rubbed his bicep. "Thanks."
Ryuichi giggled, a brief birdsong trill. "Tatsuha-kun's funny!"
Tatsuha-kun wasn't going to deny it. He wasn't going to deny anything. The only way he could possibly get any higher would be profoundly illegal. It wasn't that he was so close he could see the length of those dark lashes; it was that the blue eyes behind them were on him, were seeing him. That immeasurably talented voice was addressing him, only him, and he would if he could hoard every word, as a miser hoards gold.
And then the plate was emptied and Ryuichi had latched onto his hand again, tugging him up. "Let's go!"
If he died now, he would pass beyond as the happiest man to ever have lived. "Right behind you," Tatsuha said, and floated as much as walked to the door.