Chapter 9b

The doorbell went, and Misaki unlocked the front door without checking to see who it was – he was expecting it to be Aikawa-san, come to fetch the manuscript, because Akihiko was lurking upstairs and had been for some while now. After unlocking the inner door, he padded off to finish cleaning the coffee machine out – since Usagi-san had been neglecting his caffeine intake recently, what with his new taste buds, the filters and so forth had solidified completely with lack of use.

He was elbow deep in the carafe, scrubbing it clean with a brush, when the door clunked open and a small bundle of delight scrambled across the floor and hit Misaki about the kneecaps.

"Uncle!" It was Mahiro, followed closely by Manami and Takahiro. "Uncle Misa! Up!"

"Give him some space, Mahiro," said Manami, setting her coat and bag down on the sofa. "Hello, Misaki! I hope you don't mind us coming round?"

"Of course not!" Misaki rinsed his hands off and scooped Mahiro up. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"I've been working overtime," said Takahiro, padding over to scrub his little brother's hair. "And Mahiro has been driving his mother up the wall. How are you?"

Misaki launched into an explanation of the last few months, right up until he came against the Russian Syndrome, and waking up to find Usagi-san adorable. Instead he dissolved into worried silence and cast his gaze upstairs. Takahiro followed his gaze and asked if his old friend was in.

"Yeah, I don't think he's left today." He cleared his throat nervously, jogging Mahiro on his hip to soothe himself. "He should be here." As Takahiro went to the bottom of the stairs, Misaki continued, "He's been a bit sick lately…" He winced as his brother called out for Akihiko to come down, and then winced once more as there was a sharp crash from the study and someone swore in a foreign language.

"Misaki!" Akihiko's voice sang out, particularly high-pitched. Manami and Takahiro glanced at Misaki as he set Mahiro down.

"He's just… a bit sick…" He laughed nervously. "I'll check on him now."

After fifteen minutes of arguing and prodding, Akihiko finally agreed to going downstairs, although Misaki did have to physically shove him out of the study doorway to get him moving. At the first noise of confused recognition from Takahiro, he nearly fled back into the study but the Usami ability to ignore all sorts of shame and embarrassment kicks in and he strode forward, tookthe stairs two at a time and greeted his old friend with a cheery hello.

Misaki reached the balcony in time to see Takahiro tilt his head to the side like a confused puppy, as Manami covered her mouth to prevent something that sounded suspiciously like a squeak of joy escaping.

"Usagi-chan?" Takahiro's expression was hugely baffled, mouth hanging open loosely like it was occupying too much of his brain power to hold it closed while he tried to figure this out. It probably didn't help that Akihiko was wearing some of Misaki's clothes again – a pair of shorts and the panda t-shirt from before. "I don't…"

"The Russian Syndrome, darling," said Manami, her voice quiet and firm. "Usami-san must have it."

This time Akihiko didn't respond snappishly, and gave the woman a grateful look for her self-control. "Exactly. I've been this size for about a week now." He glanced up at Misaki and added, "We did mean to call you up and tell you, but, with one thing and another…" His eyes sparkled and Misaki knew exactly what he had meant by 'another', the perverted bastard.

"Well, I…" Takahiro cleared his throat and then nearly leapt on Akihiko's shoulders, wrapping his friend up in a tight hug. Misaki had to hide his face in his hands to quell his laughter when Takahiro allowed Usagi-san to escape, and the young man tottered a few wobbly steps to the side, looking utterly shaken. "You're so cute! I remember when we were this age, we'd only just met, huh?" He laughed, while Akihiko made a sort of shocked noise of agreement, clutching onto the stair bannister to stabilise himself. "Those were good days…"

"Now, now," said Manami absently, as if she was used to curbing her husband's reminiscing, smiling sweetly at Usagi-san as he managed to centre himself again. "How are you feeling, Usami-san? It must have been a shock!"

Akihiko gave her a winning smile and said, "It wasn't pleasant to look into the mirror and find the past staring back at you, no. But I've been feeling all right; you feel worse before the change for some reason."

"I've heard that. Do you know what strain? I saw one of the special documentaries on the Syndrome the other day," she explained as Misaki and Takahiro looked at her curiously.

"The chronic one." Akihiko nodded sagely, as she made a quiet noise of dismay. "They've done all the tests on me to monitor my condition, and the doctor was very insistent about it not being all that bad." He met Misaki's gaze again, knowingly. "I'm not worried."

"Probably a good plan; worrying only makes things worse sometimes." Manami looked around and blushed. "Oh dear! Listen to me twitter on while we all stand about!"

"Oh, that's all right!" piped up Misaki, padding down the stairs. "I'll make some tea, and everyone can sit down."

"Misaki-kun, how are you feeling?" Manami followed him into the kitchen, as the other two men settled down on the sofas, chatting amiably as if there wasn't anything amiss with the situation at all.

"Oh, I'm fine," he said, fetching the tea things and having to step over Mahiro as he went to the sink to pour water. "I went to the doctor's too, and she said I didn't have the syndrome and wasn't likely to get it."

"The show mentioned it was normally Europeans that got it," said Manami, deftly ignoring her son as he clamoured for a biscuit. She handed Misaki the tea jar and peered thoughtfully back at the living area, watching Akihiko carefully. "How is everything, really?"

Misaki often suspected that Manami had ideas about him and Usagi-san that were probably closer to the mark that he would like to let on, and he knew that she was probably the second smartest person in the room, after Akihiko and his ridiculous ability to learn everything except the most basic life skills. For a terrifying second he was sure she had them figured out, but he decided to take Akihiko's approach to life in general and just blast his way through, ignoring all obstacles and embarrassment.

He focused on pouring the tea, concentrating on not letting his hands shake, and said, "It's all right. I never realised how much I liked being driven places before I banned him from using his car. And the sooner I don't have to go back to the doctor's surgery, the better." He laughed nervously and lifted the tray. "Let's have some tea now!"

Takahiro and his little family stayed for what felt like hours, until Akihiko's normally natural smile around his old friend had faded into the mockery of a grin that always made Misaki feel a little uncomfortable. By the end, Mahiro was thoroughly enamoured with the new Usagi-san as well, mostly because he wasn't as utterly terrifying as before, insisting that he sit beside him on the sofa so he was in prime staring territory. Not even a glower scared him away, and Misaki had to lure the child away with promises of biscuits to prevent a show-down.

When they left – Akihiko collapsing down onto the sofa like someone had removed all his bones – it was an intense relief. Misaki did like his brother and all, and they didn't get to see each other anywhere near enough, but when he was trying to hide his illicit deeds from the man, his presence got a bit wearing.

"That was interesting!" Misaki said brightly. Off Akihiko's un-amused look, he let himself deflate and rested his head on the door. "Also, really stressful… At least Mahiro likes you now!"

"Joy," said Akihiko in a deeply sardonic tone. "Once again, my amazing ability to be blond and pretty comes to the fore."

"One of these days you'll poison yourself with sarcasm. Move over," he said, easing down over the arm of the sofa and holding himself steady with a great strain on his arms, hoping that Akihiko would hurry up and get out of the way. Irritatingly, and just like the man as well, the blond just spread himself out more, stretching like a cat reaching for a sun spot. Misaki quickly spotted where the hands were going and delivered a quick slap to both exploratory paws before they reached his ass. "Move."

"I need comforting! It's been a long, long night." The boy purred, reaching out again and getting another slap. "Mi-sa-ki..?"

"Don't make me push you around," he snapped, giving Akihiko a sharp push anyway and shoving him into a surprisingly heavy heap at the other end of the sofa.

"What, like you pushed me down last night?" Akihiko raised a sharp eyebrow, baring a sharp set of teeth. "Since I recall it being me that did a lot of the pushing…" He sat up and blew gently into Misaki's ear. "As it were."

Misaki's blush could have lit up the room. "I could totally push you down!" he barked, shoving Akihiko away again and grabbing the remote. "If I wanted to. But not now. There's something I want to watch."

"Ha." Akihiko snorted and smiled shortly to himself like he had just thought up a great joke, but he stayed quiet, huddling up and obediently keeping himself to himself.

Misaki pursed his lips and tried to focus on his show, but the closeness of the blond beside him made it very hard to do so. The bastard wasn't even trying, which was the worst part; Misaki was grudgingly coming to the conclusion that he was terribly, overwhelmingly attracted to Usami Akihiko in all his incarnations. By the end of the first half of the show, he was completely and utterly distracted. Akihiko was balled up at the end of the sofa, feet tucked up under his body to keep them warm and picking at his fingernails, thoroughly bored and still painfully delicious. Misaki had never wanted something as much as he had wanted Akihiko at that moment, but he had no idea how to go about getting him except to shuffle closer along the seat and blush conspicuously. Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Usagi-san had some sort of specialised ability to tell when Misaki was thinking embarrassing thoughts and he looked across curiously, eyes locking onto the blush immediately and a fang-filled smirk crawling onto his face.

"Whatever is the matter?" He purred, shuffling about a little to further tuck his feet under himself - he looked chilled, Misaki realised, still wearing a pair of his lover's shorts and a shirt on top. The hand that brushed his cheek and slid down his jaw wasicy cold even in comparison to the normal nippy temperature of the man's hands. "Mmm, you're nice and warm..." In a silky movement, the boy slid closer until he was almost on Misaki's lap and wrapped his arms about the student's neck. When he tucked his head down into the crook of Misaki's neck where it met his shoulder, his hair tickled Misaki's throat and wafted up a warm scent of lavender, sandalwood and... and tobacco?

Misaki buried his nose in Akihiko's hair and took a hefty sniff, growling when the scent of cigarette smoke came through again. Akihiko glanced up, all butter wouldn't melt, and asked what was wrong.

"You've been smoking!" Misaki snapped, pushing the young man away. He had made Akihiko quit last year, when the man had kept coming down with various diseases time and time again. Ever since, Akihiko had been grumpier but healthier and it irritated Misaki terribly that the man had started again. "You promised you wouldn't! Where the hell have you been keeping them - I've searched all over the place to hunt them out, you sneaky -"

Akihiko blinked and said, "Oh, right. Sorry."

"Where have you been keeping them?" He snapped.

"I found them in my cupboard." He shrugged, "Sorry, I forgot."

"Forgot..." Misaki sniffed, getting up and twitching his fingers, "Where are they now?"

Akihiko fumbled in his pocket for a moment and produced a pack of cigarettes, handing them over with a mulish expression. "You're worse than my father. At least my grandfather lets me smoke..."

"That's because neither of them was depending on you for a place to live." He opened the packet and started ripping the contents within to shreds, the pungent smell of tobacco rising in thick, choking quantities. "Neither of them had to care for you when you got sick either! No smoking allowed!" He dropped the torn remains of the packet and its contents on the young man's lap, resisting the urge to sprinkle some onto the silvery locks.

They sat in almost uncomfortable silence after that, until Misaki got up to fetch himself a snack from the kitchen and was almost immediately waylaid by an oversexed teenager. His sandwich was tossed onto the table, beside a quickly moved and messy spread of destroyed cigarettes, and nippy little kisses were being placed up and down his throat.

"You're mad! You have a some sort of problem!" Misaki exclaimed trying to back away from his lover's amorous advances and encourage them at the same time.

Akihiko licked his lips with his kitten-pink tongue. "My only problem is that you keep resisting me."

"No, I mean you have some sort of sex addiction!" A word sprang to mind and he exclaimed, "A nymphomaniac! That's what you are!"

Akihiko chuckled, sultry sweet and smug. "Not quite. One-" He drew himself even closer to Misaki, purring contentedly. "Nymphomania only applies to women. Satyriasis is the term for men. Two –" His husky breath rasped against Misaki's jawline, "It's a terribly outdated term. The correct term is 'hypersexuality' or, indeed, just 'sex addiction'." He twitched an eyebrow up in amusement. "I've read a lot of reference books, Misaki, and attended any number of therapists – I know all the terms by now. Whether those are applicable is up to you."

Misaki couldn't nod any faster without accidentally giving himself whiplash.

"I think you should take responsibility," said Akihiko, a coyly innocent look forming on his face. "Since I'm addicted to Misaki after all."

"Oh no!" Misaki started with alarm, "This is not my fault!"

"But what am I meant to do with myself then? Come on," Akihiko purred, practically rubbing himself up against Misaki's front, eyes big and soft. "I thought you were going to push me down? Prove yourself to me…"

It was impossible to resist, and Misaki let Akihiko pull his head down and affix their mouths together. Sneaky, slim fingers nipped down and undid Misaki's belt buckle with practised ease, reaching in and drifting his fingers through the curls therein. Misaki whimpered into the kiss, opening his mouth further and letting Akihiko slip his tongue in to explore. The taste was thick with tobacco and nicotine, and Misaki nearly gagged with surprise.

He wrenched his head back and nearly spat with disgust. He had gotten used to Akihiko's natural taste, and the chemicals on his breath now were nothing less than disgusting. Not even wicked little hands could persuade him otherwise.

"Misaki?" Akihiko looked up, pouting slightly.

"I've got to… do something… else…" He pushed Akihiko away reluctantly, shivering unhappily when Akihiko's cool hand was separated from his fading erection.

The boy visibly deflated, face crumpling. "I thought you wanted…" He lowered his head enough so his fringe hid his eyes. "Never mind…"

As he pulled away, Misaki's heart almost broke in two with guilt and misery. "No, I just…" He licked his lips and the chemical taste of smoke oozed onto his tongue, killing the last of his erection. "I just don't like kissing you after you smoke… It doesn't taste nice anymore…"

For a second Akihiko clearly had to think very hard about what Misaki had just said, to examine it from every angle, which the student used to do his flies up and re-buckle his belt. Finally, when he patted the leather back into the loops of his jeans and looked up, Akihiko was almost smiling again.

"So you like the taste of my kisses normally?" he asked, hope tinging his voice in a sweetly pathetic manner. Misaki sighed and nodded reluctantly, unable to snap at the man for perverseness while he looked so wretched, sliding down onto the sofa again; Akihiko easing down beside him. "I'm sorry. I honestly forgot about the cigarettes –I found them in the cupboard when I was dressing and I couldn't resist once I saw them." He ran his hands through the hair and poked the little pile of abandoned tobacco and cardboard on the table, before adding, "If I brush my teeth..?"

Misaki gave him a Look.

"Fair enough." Akihiko rearranged himself on the sofa, draping himself over Misaki's lap in a comfortable fashion. "Later on?" He winced when Misaki poked him in the forehead. "All right, all right. I get the point."

Aikawa was in the office for once the next day, looking deceptively calm. There was a slight wobble to her normally perfect red lipstick, and her shirt was buttoned up wrongly, but Misaki felt that telling her would be a bit unkind, especially because she seemed so delighted to be collected for once.

"My sister insisted I should try yoga," she was telling Kobayashi-san, who was nodding along like a potential convert. "She said I was going to blow a blood vessel if I didn't calm down slightly, but you know how it can be!" She laughed, hysterically, and swivelled on her heels to face Misaki. "So is your good-for-nothing landlord finished his work yet?"

For once Misaki had no idea; Akihiko was spending a lot of his time writing, yes, but he hadn't quite driven himself into the ground like he normally would finishing a novel. Maybe it was his new body, giving him a burst of teenaged energy, or maybe he was just skiving, but Misaki was quite out of the loop.

"I think so," he hazarded, guessing that it would at least make the woman's day more pleasant. Until she found out it wasn't exactly true. "I could call him and find out for you?"

Aikawa-san waved a hand and bent to pick up her bag – it was brimming with pages, clipped tightly together, and she struggled to heave it to her shoulder. "I'll pop round later tonight. Just let him be surprised." She developed a very evil look briefly. "Let me see what that pretty face looks while he panics." She said goodbye and tottered into the hallway before Misaki could recover from his horror and call after her.

He had wanted to speak about Isaka-san, and his behaviour the previous day. Not to get the man into trouble or anything, but to let someone nice know that the poor bastard was clearly heading off the deep end and maybe they might think about getting Asahina back in to sort him out. Whether or not Asahina was ill or just plain sick of Isaka being a complete and utter berk, Misaki didn't care, but if he could avoid being pinned to the wall by his employer again he would be content. He had also wanted to beg her to cover for his slip-up. Part of him desperately wanted to think he'd fooled the older man into thinking nothing was wrong with his best-selling author and Misaki had just been spouting nonsense. The chances of that were very slim though, and Misaki knew his luck was nowhere near that good. He was hoping he could rope Aikawa in for damage control purposes, and he'd been avoiding telling Usagi-san his mistake until he could corner the woman and get her on his side.

Sadly, she was long gone by the time he'd even managed to croak out the first syllable of her name, and he sank lower on his chair. He'd just have to wait until she came round this evening and finished arguing with Usagi-san over why he probably didn't have his manuscript done on time.

"Are you still wearing your pyjamas?" Misaki paused in unpacking his bag and watched Akihiko weave down the stairs. "Are you just getting out of bed? This late in the day?"

"I think I got up earlier," yawned Akihiko, scrubbing a hand through his hair, ruffling it in all directions. The delicate skin under his eyes was stained the blue-black of someone with a bizarre sleep pattern, and his pale lips were cracked and dry. "But I forgot what I was doing, and since I was in my pyjamas anyway…"

The pyjamas in question were actually one of Usagi-san's old shirts, too big and billowing lightly about the slim form, and a pair of Misaki's pyjama bottoms. They had a duck pattern, and Misaki wondered if he should worry about the sheer amount of clothing he, a twenty three year old man, possessed with cute animals on. It all conspired to make Akihiko look especially sweet and delicate, and Misaki was very concerned to discover that that was apparently what he liked in a lover. He couldn't bring himself to even be slightly pissy with all that adorable on display, so he relayed Aikawa's threatening message, once again avoided mentioning Isaka-san in any way, and tried to get to the upper floor.

Akihiko got in his way very neatly for someone still so sleep befuddled, smiling wickedly.

"Where are you going?" he asked, sweetly.

"Upstairs." Misaki narrowed his eyes, shifting his weight cautiously in case of a pounce. "Why?"

"You could stay down here with me?" Akihiko squeaked his bare feet against the floor, fluttering his eyelashes in an all too provocative manner. Misaki clenched his teeth and made to push past, forgetting that the blond now weighed far less than what he did and knocking them both to the ground with a thud. Akihiko gave a yelp of pain as his head struck the ground, jarring his teeth together painfully. "Ow!"

Misaki shoved himself up and ran his own hands through Akihiko's hair, checking quickly for an injuries. His fingers encountered a small knot, testing it nervously but finding no blood or unstable bone, and he sat back, relieved.

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They sat in comfortable silence for a long few minutes until the cold floor began to take an effect. Akihiko was the first to move; he staggered upright, but abruptly stopped and whimpered quietly after only a few steps.

"Ha!" Misaki straightened up, watching with curious eyes, and pointed accusingly. "I knew you were hiding it!"

"Hiding it?" Akihiko straightened his back, both hands on his hips. "Hiding what?"

"It hurts doesn't it?" he said, smirking, "See, now you know how I feel when you do… t-that to me!"

The blond looked down at himself, and shrugged, "I already knew, didn't I?" He stretched out slowly, face twitching slightly as the joints down one leg popped and crunched. "I'm just stiff that's all."

"Are you some sort of iron man?" Misaki snapped, blushing when he glanced down at his lover's cock, soft amid the pale curls.

"No, I'm just not as weak as you," said Akihiko, sticking his tongue out and cocking his hip to the side cheekily.

"Bastard!" Misaki growled, leaping at the young man and knocking them both flying – he had forgotten, once again and despite what they had just done minutes beforehand, that Akihiko was smaller now. There was just something about the sheer arrogance of the man that made Misaki's memory skitter. After a short scuffle, Misaki had his pest pinned to the floor by the wrists, kneeling over him in triumph. "Got you!"

Usagi-san wriggled helplessly for a second and then scowled. "Let me up."

"Or what? I can pin you to the floor now, so I think you'll find I'm in charge!" Misaki gave a cackling laugh and shook the thin wrists in his grip as emphasis.

Lavender blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You seem to like pinning me to things these days." He smiled wickedly. "You can't be wanting to go again? I thought you were fairly satisfied already?" A slim leg drifted up the inside of Misaki's thigh, one of Akihiko's own slim thighs pressing firmly to his still sensitive sac. "No?"

"N-o!" he tried to exclaim, choking on his own breath halfway through. He let go of the man's wrists and sat back, trying to cover himself up and protect himself from any more groping. Akihiko sat up and rubbed his back, still looking wicked and smug. He rolled forward onto his hands and knees, crawling across the floor until he was breathing hotly in Misaki's ear.

"The reason I am stiff," he said, slowly and silkily, dark honey dripping languidly from every single syllable, "Is because you just fucked me into the floor." His voice changed abruptly, rising a few tones and tinkling in Misaki's ears like breaking glass. "The reason I am not sore is because I am more used to being hurt than you are. Let's keep it that way, hmm?" He pressed a delicate kiss to Misaki's cheek and stood up. "Shower?"

"Shower," Misaki agreed, swallowing sharply. "Sounds good."

The shower resulted in another coupling, Misaki grabbing hold of his confidence and also Akihiko's lithe body, and bending him up against the shower wall. Their cries echoed loudly against the cool tile walls, the hiss of the shower drowning out the slipping noise of their bodies as they moved together. The water washed their completion away soon after they reached their peaks and stood panting in each other's arms, until the steam began to dissipate and the flow started to cool. Misaki scrubbed himself clean quickly, flushed with the residual heat and the embarrassment that he had been the one to initiate it this time, and tried to excuse himself without being noticed. Akihiko, sex-stunned and sleepy eyed, was still too quick for him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before turning back to the shower.

The younger man changed in a dreamy state, pulling on his comfy, slouching-about-the-house clothes, and went downstairs to tidy up a bit. The floor was unpleasantly sticky, and there was a small puddle of lube where he hadn't managed to replace the cap on the bottle. He tried to wipe it up with his abandoned t-shirt – he had entertained the idea of using his landlord's shirt instead, but had quickly decided not to when he had read the collar label and found it to be a very expensive shirt indeed – but had to fetch a basin of warm water, liberally laced with disinfectant, and get to scrubbing.

Akihiko came down a while later, just as Misaki was emptying the basin into the sink, and leant on the counter lazily, combing his fingers through his damp hair. "So."

Misaki gifted him a slow look, a talent he had copied off Usagi-san himself and had proven to be useful many times over. "What do you want?"

The smile that came next was pleasant, for once, and honest, throwing Misaki entirely off guard. "Food. It's dinnertime after all." He laughed as Misaki turned away, flushing angrily at letting himself being played so fucking easily every single damn time. "I'm not completely obsessed with sex, you know."

"Yeah, you're a man of two appetites," Misaki muttered, the angry red of his cheeks fading to a pleased pink at the sound of Akihiko's musical laughter, reverberating high against the walls.

Misaki opened the door again at the buzzer, truly and honestly expecting it to be Aikawa-san this time – she had said she was coming around when they had spoken at work earlier. He returned to his dinner preparations hurriedly: he had oil heating up on the burner and he didn't want it to catch alight.

So when the door creaked open and a deep male voice spoke in greeting instead, Misaki was just a touch surprised. The onion he had been slicing received a mortal wound, and he just missed cutting off the tip of his own finger, as Usami Fuyuhiko wandered into the apartment like he had been welcomed in.

…..urghhhh… I had all but a thousand words of this written and then hit the wall. Apologies for the wait as well – I had a project to be working on. Thankfully I have a week and a bit off now, so I'll do my best to get caught up on some chapters and not leave you waiting for so long!

Thanks to all readers and reviewers as well! I'll respond individually to them tomorrow, but until then have my thanks in this public forum!

And lastly – next chapter will either be another Romantica one, full of arguments and familiar snark, or an Egoist one. Views, opinions, objections on the subject? Get thee to the review-maker-screen-thing! =]