DISCLAIMER: We are poor. Dirt poor. So poor we could rival the pitiful state of the shanty towns of the Great Depression. The logical conclusion of the sad, sad, fact is that we do not own Gravitation; Maki Murakami does.

Chapter 2: The Morning Of The Deviousness

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Slowly, Yuki roused from sleep, shifting until he could draw his pinkette closer. "Time?" It was half yawned in his lover's ear, and with a grumble that may have been a dire threat, his lover scooted towards the clock.

"Seven," Groaning, Shuichi pulled the pillow over his head.

With effort Yuki dislodged himself, crawled over his cover-covered lump of a lover, and finally stood erect. A stretch sent his back to popping, and with a grunt at his lover he stumbled off to the shower; longing for the hot coffee that would follow.

Minutes later he returned, towel clad, still dripping from the shower, to find his singer had barely shifted from his spot. "Shu-chan," poking his love until he snarled like a ferocious kitten defending its milk, he roused the boy. "Get up!"

"Why?" It was a whine, and the boy clawed his way out of covers-turned-nest, grumpy and tousled.

"Because it's seven fifteen and you asked me to get you up." Flicking the boys nose he smirked, skittering back to dodge the pillow that was hurled his way. It was their morning game, and despite being more tired than he cared to admit, Shuichi was happy. Nothing, barring disaster, could ruin his day.

"Oi, Shu," Jerking on his pants, Yuki did a half-hop, and with a wiggle pulled the slacks up and over his ass. "I'm going to be gone for two days a week, starting next week. I forgot to tell you last night." The fact that he'd spent the better part of the night bending his partner into a human pretzel may have had a part in that small tidbit of information never making it past his lips.

The world crashed and that oh-so-happy feeling was lit aflame, charred, and then sprinkled with salt. Shuichi was left staring after his lover's retreating back, and he sniffled pitifully. "Why, what're you going to be doing?" A brief thought gave him pause, even as Yuki exited the room without ever having heard him, leaving him alone as hurt eyes turned down to the wrinkled sheets. Who are you going to be with?

He tried to feel angry and betrayed, tried to gather the hurt and wounded pride and clench it tightly, but he just couldn't bring himself to hate Yuki. He could have it all wrong – besides, how could the little singer be angry with Yuki when he, himself, was going to be gone too?

Furiously rubbing the evidence of tears from his eyes, Shuichi sat up in the bed. Looking around at the clothes scattered about the floor, he selected Yuki's pajama top, hopped carefully out of bed, and tugged it on. Limping, for Yuki had been rather rough the night before, he wandered towards the kitchen.

Yuki was nowhere to be found, so he started the coffee pot, and began to rummage through the fridge for something to eat, and finding nothing made for the cabinets. He was going to need sugar filled and glazed pastries to perk up his morning. Gathering the donuts, muffins, and danishes he arranged a plate of them and plopped down at the table with a glass of milk to enjoy.

He'd been gone for the majority of the past six months on a tour of Asia, and now when he finally had a break from NG – a whole year of rest and relaxation! - both he and Yuki would be away when they needed the quality time. Depressed, he nibbled a danish listlessly. He was going to need more sugar at this rate.

Two danishes, three donuts, and half a muffin later, Yuki wandered in, fully clothed, with hair brushed and dried. He headed straight for the coffee pot, murmuring sweet nothings to his mug as he doctored it with cream and sugar. It was only after he'd nursed at it for a moment that he noticed the singer picking at the muffin.

"Are those my danishes?" The pink little head shook cutely and violet eyes shyly glanced up at Yuki. Said man was hard pressed to quell his rager and the sudden urge to drag the little brat back to bed. No, no. I have work to do. Work. Not Shuichi tied to the bed. Work. Work and friends to visit, and actually have a life away from the little twerp.

Yuki grabbed a danish from the plate and sped out of the kitchen towards the entryway, determined to get away from the drool worthy body of his sexy young kitten. He had his shoes on before his lover peeped around the corner.

"You'll be home for dinner, right?"

Glancing at his little singer Yuki gave a, "Heh", in reply and hoped it would satisfy the younger man.

Shuichi took it for a 'Yes', in Yuki-speak, and leaned against the wall, hands folding over his chest. "Indian alright for tonight?"

"Sure, whatever." Straightening his dress shirt he cast his lover a grin, "Oh yeah, don't bother me today. There's a lot of shit I need to get done and I don't want to deal with whiny brats." Shuichi huffed and stuck his tongue out at him, but he only grinned as swift eyes danced over the tasty little treat in the entryway.

Why did Shuichi's legs have to look so appealing when bare? Slick thighs, slender calves, delicate ankles, and cute little feet with their even cuter toes? Bad Yuki, bad. He would never get rid of his boner now. Huffing in annoyance he grabbed his briefcase and jacket, bolting out the door like a horse on a race.

Having returned to his meal Shuichi finished it leisurely and washed the morning dishes after. With a yawn and a stretch he padded off to the shower to wash up, and once done he stood before his closet, doors flung open, a small towel clinging to his hips. He browsed the neatly folded and hung clothing – Yuki's doing – and selected a pair of old school slacks and a plain button up white shirt.

Dressed and sprayed with Yuki's woodsy cologne, he dug out a pair of plain dress shoes and slipped into them. Wiggling his toes in distaste – heeled boots were much better than plain shoes - he grabbed Yuki's leather bomber from when he was a kid, his sunglasses, ipod, cell, and wallet before slipping out. The jacket was thrown over his arm for the moment, his glasses on, even though they slipped down his nose a bit, and he strutted down the street, ipod on shuffle. Eying the surging wave of people around him on the crowded streets he went over his to-do list. Got to swing by the school for my schedule, go to the pharmacy for my contacts and hair dye. A girl skipped by him, laughing as she chatted on her cell, and he eyed her messenger bag. One of those would be useful for class. Oh! Class supplies!


Chochowilliams gets an extra smexy kiss for reviewing Chapter 1!

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