Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, no real humans were used to make this story and the characters featured in this piece of work do not belong to me. Also, I do not make any profit from this.
Warning: possible grammar and spelling mistakes, as well as missing letters and/or words.
There will also be detailed sex scenes and possible violence, as well as bad language and slang words. This is/will be an mpreg (male pregnancy) story, so if this offends you please do not read it and turn back now.
Thank you for your understanding.
Main Pairing: Royal Pair.
Side Pairings: At the moment I still don't know, but as I write there will be some.
Chapter Two: It Starts
The never ending phone ringing and the yells of people, workers, never seemed to stop at the always busy company. Papers flew in every direction when someone slipped while carrying them, arguments about the best photo shoots and the places where to do them, the photographers who are to do it filled the rooms.
It was madness to anyone from outside, but to the ones working there and having already gotten used to this, it was just another, normal day.
It was here, at the top story of the building that you could find one tired-looking Atobe Keigo hunched over the never ending stack of papers and notes, invitations to yet another business party or a fashion show.
The pen clattered against the papers as it was thrown away by the person working with it. Keigo leaned back, against the back of the chair, made especially for him, and closed his eyes, fingertips massaging the closed eyelids. He hadn't slept for day's now due to the amount of work because of the photo shoots and spoiled models.
A soft click of the door and the loudness of the outside world drifted in the room for a moment, silenced when the door closed behind the black-haired woman. With quick steps, even when those feet were wearing red six inch heels, she moved from one side of the office to the other, throwing a big brown convert on top of all the documents.
"Atobe-san, this is an urgent message from 'Aurora's Kiss'." Her words seemed to get Keigo's attention, "Please take a look at it and then notify them of your answer. Thank you." She didn't bother with giving too much detail of the situation and just told the basics. She spun around, the black knee-length skirt lifting up a bit and the red blouse making a rustling noise, and walked out of the room as fast as she came.
Keigo made a face, "Thank you Anzu." He sighed before giving the convert a disgusting look, this reminded him too much of what happened three years ago and thus, he had to control himself and not let his arms throw the damn thing into the overstuffed trash bin.
He scanned over the contents of the small letter from the director of 'Aurora's Kiss' and frowned. This was happening in such a shitty time, it almost made Keigo laugh; if not the fact that now he had to redo everything in such a short time span.
Dear mister Keigo Atobe,
I am truly sorry to notify you of this, but the model you had chosen for the new 'Seduction' project, Billy Hughes, has been hospitalized because of some health problems. He will not be able to take part of this project and for that we are truly sorry.
So, I send you profiles of our best models in hopes that you will choose one of them instead of Billy. I can assure you, that all of them are professionals and take their work very seriously, as well fit in with your demands concerning 'Seduction'.
I hope to hear your answer as soon as possible,
Edward Hawk.*
The businessman sighed and allowed the note to slip out of his fingers and watched as it slowly fluttered down and gently touched the carpeted floor. He watched the words written in dark blue ink, the slightly curved handwriting, slanting one side a bit. mocked him, and made a face again; how he hated that handwriting.
He shook the ten or so profiles of the models that Hawk had sent him, out of the convert and went over each, all the while thinking about the preparations that should be done now. All the pretty men that he went over looked the same to him, maybe the hair color changed, but everything else…
"Pathetic. And he wants me to use these empty shells as the face of 'Seduction'?" Keigo frowned again, "Fucking idiot." He threw the profile of a blond Hannah Montana look-alike (only a man) over his shoulder and got ready to deny the last one, but when his eyes landed on the name of the model he stopped.
There, staring right at him, was the name, and under it a picture, of the one person he had longed to see for so long. Keigo noted that he hadn't changed much, maybe the hair got a bit longer and the edges of his face a little sharper, almost as if he had been thought something difficult. And he did; Keigo whispered in his head, a sad smile adorning his face.
Staring right at him was Echizen Ryoma, the one that he had lost about three years ago.
He didn't have to think twice to fumble around his desk blindly, eyes not leaving the picture, in blind tries to find the phone, which he did after a while. After pushing some buttons the voice of his secretary, Anzu, tingled his ear as she spoke. "Yes, Atobe-san. Did you go through the content of the letter?"
"I did, yes, just now." Keigo gently placed the profile on his desk and leaned back, "Please notify Hawk-san that I have chosen the model named Echizen Ryoma for the 'Seduction' project."
He heard the clicking of the keyboard as the woman typed in an inhuman speed. "Will there be anything else you would like to tell him?" the slightly curios tone of her voice was louder than the clicking, though, the undertone of her voice told otherwise.
"No, that would be all." Keigo cut off the conversation and made the chair rotate, his face now facing the wall usually behind his back, a see through glass from ceiling to floor, providing him with the sight of the busy city.
"Ryoma. Who would have thought…" he said, fingers raking though the purple locks on his head.
"Shuya, come back here! Shuya!" the all too well known yells that usually filled the Echizen household once again could be heard in the flat. Together with smaller and bigger footsteps running around the corridor and rooms, mixed with the sounds of a little kid laughing.
Ryoma did a homerun slide in order to get in front of the hyper three-year-old, thus blocking the little kid's only escape route. Thankfully, or maybe not, Shuya's coordination skills still weren't that good, so he didn't brake on time and fell, face flat, on Ryoma's stomach. It was just at the very same second that Shuya's nose touched the dark red, long-sleeved shirt, that Ryoma's wound hands around him and hugged the kid close to himself.
Shuya tried to push away from his dad, all the while yelling: "Don't want to, don't want to! No kindergarten! NOOO!" Though, the yells weren't as loud as one would expect, since they were somewhat muffled by Ryoma's shirt.
With a grunt and a sigh Ryoma got up, his son still in hands and went out of the living room, out in the small, narrow corridor of the little flat. "You're not going to kindergarten, don't worry. Today, uncle Ryoga will look after you." He gave the kid a curious glance and smirked after seeing the surprised, wide, dark blue eyes looking up at him.
"Really?" Ryoma gave an approving nod as an answer. "Really, really?" Shuya wrapped his short little hands around his dad's neck and hugged as well as he could. "Arigato daddy!"
Once Shuya was properly dressed for the chilly fall weather they were ready to go. Shuya hanging on his neck, left hand holding the kid up, Ryoma locked the door and made his way down from the fourth floor of the apartment complex and out on the busy and wet New York street. People passed by, either holding a shabby looking umbrella above their heads, just enough for their heads not to get wet, wearing a cheap looking raincoats over the business suits, or simply ignored the strong downpour by wearing a hood that hid their faces.
The cold water and mud splashed on all sides as Ryoma walked, his step fast and determined, through the sea of people and getting closer to where his brother lived. The model, ex tennis player, was aware that Ryoga was probably still sleeping, even if it was already past ten in the morning, but the older Echizen was sure to welcome his little nephew in his flat. He usually did.
After Dialing the numbers at the entrance and then hearing the affirmative beep of the mechanical lock Ryoma stepped in the dryness of the empty, yet cold, staircase. After that, he allowed his son to walk on his own. Their footsteps echoed as they walked, the clack, clack, clack sounds making the little kid hold his dad's hand a little tighter that necessary.
"Who the fuck is this?" Ryoga's moody and sleep slurred voice cracked through the small microphone next to the door, after Ryoma had called for good three minutes. The young dad had known that his older brother would answer as he did, so he had already covered Shuya's ears with his hands.
He left the hands were they were, "It's me, idiot. I called you yesterday, didn't I?"
There was a pause. "Ah, yeah… I recall something like that." With a sigh Ryoma let his hands slide down Shuya's face, stopping to rest on the little shoulders, just as Ryoga's voice cracked through the microphone once again. "Come in chibi."
"Shuya, listen to me." The kid made a serious face at those words, "Do not drink anything that uncle Ryoga gives you, ok. I packed apple juice in your backpack, so you should be fine." Last time Ryoga tried to feed his son beer just when Ryoma came to pick him up. The older Echizen's arm was in a cast for a while after that incident.
"Hey, hey…" Ryoma looked at his older brother; frown on his face, "That was the first and last time! I swear!"
The modeling agency 'Aurora's Kiss' was just as lively as it had been from long ago, the people still yelled, laughed and chatted with each other in that careless manner that suggested that they don't really have anything better to do. The neat, and less neat, piles of papers towered on the desks of the workers, some white; some had neat lines of black text and some had dark rings remaining from the workers morning cup of coffee.
Ryoma made his way through the busy floors, all the while waving or returning the greeting to some of the people he knew, models, agents and simple workers, stuck to the computer screen from the early morning. He stopped only when the black metal doors that led to the director's office were standing five meters away from him, partly blocked by the table that the old secretary, missis Jonson, was sitting at.
She lifted her head and smiled a kind smile to the one of the top models of 'Aurora's Kiss': "How are you this morning Ryoma?"
"The same as always, Martha, the same as always." He returned the smile, "Is boss in? He asked me to come meet him today. Even my shoots were canceled because of this." He placed his elbows on the high surface that hid the actual desk behind it, and leaned a bit forward.
Martha shooed him away with her hand, "No peaking, this is meant just for my old eyes." But she did laugh a bit; the oversized, old-style glasses sliding own her nose a bit. She pushed them up and cleared her throat, "Let's see here… Yeah, he's in and waiting for you." She looked up from the screen again, "You might like what he's about to tell you."
"Maybe Martha, maybe. We'll see when he actually tells me, now won't we?" Ryoma answered her and pushed himself off the surface. "See 'ya later." He told her over his shoulder.
Martha started to write on the keyboard again, the clicking becoming louder, "Yeah, yeah."
Three knocks on the door and Ryoma walked in, the rush of the outside world disappeared when the metal clinked shut behind him. His boss, Edward Hawk, was sitting in the expensive looking leather chair, face turned away from Ryoma and in the direction of the busy city and skyscrapers, almost blending with the grey sky and the heavy downpour. He didn't turn around when he started to speak, the cup of steaming tea in his chubby right hand, "Good morning Ryoma. Sit down on one of the chairs and get yourself a cup of tea. It's pretty chilly today," he took a sip of the hot drink, humming in content, "the winter in coming closer it seems."
"Indeed, it seems so." Ryoma agreed, but didn't take up the offer of tea.
They sat in a relative silence for a while (this happened always when Ryoma came for an important talk), one sipping his drink, the other looking pointedly at the back of the leather chair where his boss's nape should be.
Edward sighed and rotated the chair, revealing the old, slightly cubby, wrinkly face, the dull grey eyes, covered by glasses, the grey moustache and bold head and faced Ryoma; the cup clinked against the desk as it was placed on it. The gray eye's bore into Ryoma's fiery golden ones and he smiled, "You are a strong one Ryoma, and I'm not just trying to suck up to you."
"I know." A smirk, "You're not that type of a person, mister Hawk." Ryoma leaned back and crossed his legs, "So, what did you want from me?"
The old man smiled a knowing smile and got up from his chair, walking as he talked, "Do you know about the project 'Seduction', Ryoma?" there was something reminding a humor in his voice.
"I know, Billy was chosen for it right? But then that had to happen…" he sighed, his hand going through the shoulder-length black hair, "So, what did the people from '13' said?"
Edward laughed again, going back to his seat, hands holding a small, white envelope with the logo of Japan's number one modeling agency '13' on it in red, fiery ink. "I sent them a letter of apology and some profiles, yours between them by the way Ryoma, and they, or more precisely, the owner sent me back this." He smirked his own smirk, that strange, childish and scheming glint in his eyes. He gave the envelope to Ryoma, who took it with suspicion on his face.
Ryoma opened the envelope, unpleasant memories flashing in his head for a moment, and took out the white piece of paper, the purple ink glowing in a strange light up at him. He read the whole message and was already about to ask his boss about the dirty ways he's used to get this ready, but his eyes stopped at the last two words on the bottom of the page.
"Ryoma…" Ryoma's head snapped up and he stared at the old man, whose face had now that knowing look that reminded Ryoma of a father, "Whatever happened there and whatever you had with Keigo Atobe, you have to either leave it behind and forget, or face it head on, no matter what the outcome is." Then he smiled again, "As well as show them what we are made of."
Maybe, just maybe it won't be so bad; Ryoma thought and read the short letter one more time.
*It's written in English
A/N: IT'S SNOWING IN LATVIA! :D And it's damn cold too.
Anyway, I didn't have tons of free time, like I used before this week, so you will have to bear with this one update. Hopefully, you liked the chapter and it was at least a little bit entertaining. :)
