A/N: Hello everyone for the first time! I started this as a pure Junjou Romantica story, but later decided to mix in the famous Finder couple, to thoroughly confuse all Junjou guys and explore the situation when the two self-confident semes meet with their boys around. It gave the storyline a quite different spin that I hope both fandoms would you are not familiar with the Finder's characters don't worry, you shall gather everything necessary about them throughout the story.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own.

At last, I'm grateful to CheyanneChika for helping me with my first fantic and English.

I'm not you!

Part 1: The adventurer, the stalker and the stranger.

Misaki. The little brat packed up his bag and left. Once the door closed shut and silence settled over the outsized living room, Akihiko slumped on the sofa with a long frustrated sigh. Suddenly, the large space became overwhelming as the stillness created by his fussy lover's absence swelled. He recalled the manner, in which Misaki had hightailed it out of their apartment with an usual brusque and vague explanation. Over and over, the scene replayed itself in his mind as it repeated during the last couple of months. A clear pattern.

After receiving a phone call from Shinobu, at the same hour, on the same days of every week, Misaki would take off in pursuit of this new diversion from his everyday life. With a peck on Akihiko's cheek, chirping that he was just going out with a friend till late night and would be all right, in a blur of slender limbs and chocolate hair the boy would disappeared from his sight.

Initially amusing, the mysterious departures went on, and on, while bit by bit Akihiko's patience was wearing thin. In fact, this fragile virtue of his was almost gone.

The novelist curled his fingers into the fists, itching for a smoke as he started pondering the easiest way to determine Misaki's actions. Shinobu's other half was first on his list.

He could simply ask Miyagi for information but, in doing so, he would debase his brilliant self and his solid logic he used so skillfully in his writing. On top of that, being mocked and torn down because of his failure to figure it out himself would be a humiliating experience he didn't really desire to have.

He could also question Shinobu, but that little smart ass might enjoy sending him around in circles, and he would be probably dismissed with nothing but a bunch of sarcastic remarks.

Aside from the obvious 'cons', it was absolutely embarrassing after five years of a fairly solid relationship to drag the answers out from somebody other than his own partner. But he could not interrogate Misaki. A single word kept Akihiko paralyzed, flashing constantly in front of his eyes like a signal light with the command. Trust.

Discouraged and filled with misery Akihiko growled under his breath, grunted, then grabbed and cuddled his only ever-present companion Suzuki-San in a tight bear hug. Again and again, there was always a 'but' which didn't help to solve the riddle of what the hell fascinated and enticed his lover for two nights a week away from home. He desperately wanted to know; the curiosity and pride, the two essentials of his nature, quickly took over any respectful attitude.

He hadn't stayed clueless for long though. Akihiko's purple irises snaked toward the adjoined kitchen as he took in the straight long line of the now thoroughly cleaned, almost sanitized counter top. A smirk around his mouth grew into a full smile.

Akihiko was a physical person; physical was written in his every action. While words might be misleading, body language was how he assessed the mindset of others. Especially in the case of Misaki's mind. On other hand, Misaki intended to be totally non-physical. Yet, he only tried. Once Akihiko got his hands on the boy, he was never able to hold his coy, naïve facade without dents and cracks. Throughout the last month, this, in the past highly controlled appearance, had been completely falling apart.

The shy touch of their parting kiss, imprint of which still tingled on his skin was in a stark contrast to his lover's recent performances. Akihiko rested his feet on the coffee table in repose. Even this had become the victim of their more adventurous lovemaking. In fact, there wasn't a spot in the room that they had not used for-as Misaki would say-'those things they do'. Like a cat, he stretched his satisfied body, closed his eyes and let the currents of quivering, hot pulsations stream down his sinewy tights, reminders of the pleasures from the previous night.

Misaki let his body flow sweetly and like waves, fluent and graceful, in ways that stole his breath and focus more times than he could count. Intensive swimming with Akihiko had never done the trick for the boy in years, although the exercise had pleasantly shaped his figure.

A different type of relaxing activity must have been involved. The activity that must be enjoyable also for the spoiled, rich, yet intelligent and overworked law student that Shinobu was. Misaki found a liking in the outgoing youth on the fated night of Hiroki`s birthday dinner and soon the fast friendship developed between the boys. As far as Akihiko knew, Shinobu and 'sport', on the contrary, had never been friends.

There was only one option,

….even though, there were too many options in Tokyo!

Despite the fact that he had done his homework thoroughly, the first few spots on his quest for the boys were clearly misses. About half a dozen more followed and failed, as did the innumerable amount of calls he made to Misaki's phone. Today, instead of getting the same annoying message: "We are sorry, the number you have reached is not in service this time. Please check the number, or try your call again," Misaki's voice recited his voicemail intro.

Akihiko kept calling.

He hit the redial button again, standing under the purple neon sign of one of the classy Aoyama night clubs; spectacular for a cascading tree level dance floor with a waterfall illusion - Ciel.

Behind its impassive exterior wall, this high energy dance venue bounced in the rhythm of a top-chart mantra. Among the mob bewitched by the song, Misaki's palm instinctively clasped over his persistently vibrating phone, before he stopped in his movements for umpteenth time.

"What?" mouthed slightly irritated Shinobu dancing across him.

He pulled out his cell and showed its display flashing 'Usagi', through the bluish laser lights.

The music shifted and played a new song conjuring a smile on his new friend's face. The smile that was far from innocent; infected with contagious mischief it carried a clear suggestion. Their eyes met, and in the next second all Misaki's inhibitions flew to the air just as his hand clutching the phone flew up into the vibrating music; there, he pressed 'Receive'.

Outside, Akihiko froze mid-step with the phone receiver against his ear, for this time the blasted thing had answered. An aggressive influx of music pierced his head along with his pride from side to side.

" Stop calling, I don't wanna think anymore, I left my head and heart on the dance floor. Stop calling, stop calling don't wanna talk anymore, I left my head and heart on the dance floor…"-

"Stop telephonin' me, (Stop telephonin' me)

I'm busy (I'm busy).

Stop telephonin' me, Stop telephonin' me I'm busy (I'm busy)…."

Pulling himself together, he tried to digest the words while with the last suspicious glance at the shiny facade and regenerated hope, he moved on as fast as possible toward the entrance. The time was crucial.

To pay double for otherwise reasonable admittance proved to be the most efficient tactic of getting in without any unnecessary conversation. Being dressed up his usual way, though without the tie, with dress shirt partly unbuttoned in the expensive suit and with no-less pricy accessories, did its job as well.

The Bouncer mumbled, "The club is full for tonight so you consider yourself lucky," and let him into a dark short corridor ending with an equally dark door that opened from inside. In an instant, his senses squirmed under the approaching hurricane of lights and sounds; the sounds identical to the ones coming out from his phone.

With Ray Bans on, he followed the glassy catwalk oblivious of the striking sight he cut in wild rhythm that punctuated and sped up his every step to the center of the bar above the waste dance floor. Another platform, surrounded by a shiny railing, spread in the distance front of him. Unfortunately, the third one stayed hidden from his vantage point.

But perhaps, he was really lucky since in a short moment he spotted Miyagi's genius on the second floor. Next, still holding the receiver close to his ear, still listening to the overwhelming resonance of the song that never seemed to end, Akihiko shifted his eyes to the recipient of his phone call who obviously enjoyed letting him know:

"Not that I don't like you, I'm just at a party, And I am sick and tired of my phone r-ringing….Tonight I'm not takin' no calls', Cause I'll be dancing'

I'll be dancin'

I'll be dancin''

He stood transfixed, his gaze set on the dazzling image of delicate fingers holding the cell phone above all of them - like field of sweet grass stems, swerving into the slightest blow of a gentle wind, bodies as one, flexed to the frenzy of the maddening song. However, there was a limit to the poetics he could connect with the dancing his lover had been indulging in immensely. Moreover, he was brilliant in it. Akihiko submitted to a violent tug at his heartstrings, as he saw the boy finally so uninhibited, even wild. Yet, at the same time he felt exasperated. And he felt hurt.

In order to settle down his schizophrenic emotions, he briefly skimmed shelves made of exotic wood behind the bar, and asked one of the bartenders for his favourite red Bordeaux. He was halfway through the glass, still observing with feigned indifference the wild swarm of locals and foreigners alike when the atmosphere drastically changed.

Purplish blue light combined with streaks of azure made his dark lavender suit go almost indigo, while his bright scarf and silver hair started to glow. To assume the previous music had extremely abused his hearing was plainly mistake; the noisy hell just broke loose.

On the lowest dance floor, the human crowd formed a huge circle in the middle of which a group of extreme break dancers just started their "party rock in the house tonight" and "having their good time" invigorated by massive beat of pop-techno mix. "…"And we gonna make you lose your mind" that roared through the air camequite close to being his reality.

Time to go.

In one swift gulp Akihiko finished the wine watching Misaki over the brim of his glass. His lover happily stomped to the rhythm with the rest of the crowd gathered along the balustrade, cheering the performers. An idea of self-satisfaction, one which he could not classify by any means as nice, but highly soothing his ruffled ego, struck his thoughts.

The novelist spun on the stool. Drunk on his high and a little bit wicked spirit, he took his phone up from the bar, dialed the number and waited. After Misaki picked up, he put the device carefully back, and with a warm feeling of content, let the thing absorb and transmit racket that surrounded them, delivering a clear message of its own.

He was about to turn back to witness Misaki's reaction to the surprise, when he came face to face with a stranger. A man reeking of money and power was his first impression of the dark, polished type about his own age, wearing the same brand suit and with the same, natural ease Akihiko had. He was, the novelist had to admit, a notably handsome as well.

Suddenly the world around them somehow dimmed into the background; even sound of the music seemed to recede a bit when a full glass of wine was pushed next to his empty one in silent invitation.

On instinct he turned off and packed away his cell, ready to leave.

" On the house," came sooner than he managed to get up from the stool.

Akihiko hesitated off a little, waiting to see what would happen next, but the newcomer would not move a muscle, lazily inclined against the bar with an elbow resting on its polished top.

"… a 'p-p-poker face", fittingly echoed a new refrain in a short-chopped devilish tempo.

"Thanks, I would rather not." He cut the words clearly, in as much well-bred manner as he could muster.

"Then, perhaps this?" The importunate man with a completely undisturbed countenance, which quite unsettled Akihiko, straightened and out of his pocket pulled an open pack of cigarettes before he offered one to the novelist. They were stronger than what he used to smoke from time to time but, in such precarious circumstances one could do no harm. He made a wide sweeping gesture, questioning if it would be appropriate here.

In a pleasantly deep voice his momentary companion, who obviously felt at home in this surrounding, patiently explained. "At the bar is only place you are allowed to smoke, ventilation above us is very efficient."

The first familiar whiff of smoke in his lungs calmed him down sufficiently enough to process the situation he was stuck in. He hadn't actually planned to stay or drag his boyfriend home and completely ruin boys' night out. He'd only wished to see Misaki's expression after receiving his 'meaningful' call that would have been enough compensation for his vast effort to reveal their whereabouts. Now, he was deprived of even this pleasure thanks to the very attractive, but nonetheless the annoying, man. Knowing one for what one is, Akihiko knew better than to dismiss him in his standard fashion. So through the clenched teeth, he tried his best to be polite.

"Why?"

"It's a shame to waste so much money for so short a stay." The man's false concern was punctuated by a half-smile.

"Guess it goes on account of my ignorance that I didn't predict to be under such thorough surveillance coming in here." He returned his best professional smirk, "Is it the habit of this place to scrutinize its customers?" The question seemed to be needless even foolish at the moment. Nevertheless his urge to bite was too great to ignore.

"Not all of them, only those who stand above the usual crowd," the man answered nonchalantly. The softness, however, vanished from his sculpted features and Akihiko reminded himself that suits are worn exactly to occasion: as his was casual, this fellow's was meant for business. Still, so far nothing from their dialog sounded hostile. And if they had met under different circumstances, although the place was appropriate for such an opportunity, he would have concluded that the guy was hitting on him.

"I assume the 'short' stay," Akihiko pointed out matter of fact, not bothering to hide dissent behind the words, "…was enough to check on my curriculum vitae."

"I didn't need to do it in your case, I read newspapers more or less regularly."

"Well," Akihiko sighed slightly riled up. While he would never admit openly in front of anybody-with exception of Misaki-how much this type of compliment boosted his self-esteem, it didn't mean he, himself, would ignore it. "As we can skip introduction on my part, who do I have the honour of meeting?"

"I own this place. For more than that, I believe you have your own trustworthy information sources." The man leisurely tapped his cigarette against the ashtray as he effortlessly followed the set manner of their dialog, sleekly polite, flirting on the edge of conscientiousness. "It's sheer curiosity… but to what do we owe your visit here?"

Fine, finally they got closer the core of things.

"Perhaps a need for inspiration." He elegantly puffed out another cloud of smoke. Contemplating his new acquaintance through a light blue fog, he carefully formulated his next question. "Why am I the subject of your interest?"

The owner of Ciel seemed to be amused. "There is a certain power in using words to sway people's opinions don't you think?" His handsome face shifted closer, the words hitting Akihiko's ear directly. The talented novelist, the winner of international literature awards forcibly fancied their sudden, almost intrusive proximity as a result of the noisy surrounding and their inability to hear each other properly, when..."But, I guess this place is not to your taste after all, not inspiring enough". A business card, conjured seemingly from the air, was offered to him. "We are more alike than you imagine."

The golden letters embedded into the black satin background read 'Club Sion'. He had come across the name as both, the famous writer and the son of a rich corporate leader. Now, for certainty Akihiko could label the guy and the realization chilled and thrilled him at the same time.

The hard craft piece of paper slid between his slim fingers feeling dangerous, like species of some poisonous insect that might bite when one tries to touch it.

"I may influence people's wills in a ways I believe correct, but I do not bend or break them for my interests." He pierced one of the Tokyo underworld's controlling minds with a cold stare, masking enormous effort to render his speech to a composed tone. "We are like day and night. I'm certain our worlds are different. They do not collide."

"Oh, I like your analogy! How fitting; literally and figuratively." His radiant golden eyes under the dark strands of fringe twinkled with a humour that didn't bode well with Akihiko. "Except you know, opposites attract each other." His light laugh was dark too, yet captivating. The fact that Akihiko liked its charm or the ease with which this 'gentleman rogue' dismissed his previous apt insinuation chafed him to the point that he almost crushed his joint into particles.

He could have been anything from graciously charming to dismissively sarcastic in his approach, but he had never been reserved. Akihiko detested treacherously cultured behaviour that the gangster had obviously perfected. He had often connected it with his father and the twisted business tactics his old man constantly forced into their family dealings. Yet, from all the excruciating experiences he had unintentionally learned thing or two.

In spite of the internal distress, the novelist nodded his farewell casually as he let the business card fall on the top of the bar and, with what he considered as a parting wisp of an uninterested glance, he attempted to take his leave. "There is a one golden rule you must already know. Good walls make good neighbours." No sooner had he dropped the last word of advice from his regal high during a little abrupt pause in the ever present ruckus.

Unluckily, Akihiko's departure was thwarted for the second time. To his satisfaction, the bold statement had made the club owner eyes widen in brief surprise, but the yakuza didn't have time to react further as his attention shifted to his cell phone. The handsome face stilled while he listened to people on the other end. His sharply cut features never shifted, only a light closing of his eyelids for a moment revealed his emotions. Concern perhaps.

Akihiko assumed he shouldn't care and decided to walk away before that pleasant baritone stopped him dead.

"You might want to come with me."

TBC

A/N: Songs used: Telephone and Poker Face from Lady Gaga and Party Rock from LMFAO to string Akihiko.

Thank you for your time and reading. Your suggestions, questions, opinions, are very, very appreciated and helpful, you know that…:)