Relativity
a gravitation fanfic
by Ashura
disclaimer: all but two of the characters here are not mine. And sometimes I'm not even sure about those two.
warnings: implied het, yaoi, and interspecies stuffed animal sex.
And yes, I love Ryuuichi. The man's 30 years old and talks to a stuffed animal, of course I'm in love. ;)
***
Yuki Eiri was not in a good mood.
This in itself was not particularly unusual. Yuki was very seldom in a good mood, and even when he was, he couldn't be bothered to admit it. But today had been genuinely foul, and he was reveling in it, practicing his scowl on everyone within glaring distance on the subway, so it would be nice and severe when he got home to bestow it on Shuuichi.
The subway was part of the reason the day was so rotten. Here he was, a famous novelist with a damn fine sexy automobile, and he was stuck using public transportation. Apparently even sexy cars are subject to the occasional odd breakdown. Normally, that would just have meant he stayed home and sulked at his computer all day writing star-crossed lovers into angst-ridden death scenes. But no, he was already a week and a half late getting his last manuscript to his editor, and nothing would please /her/ but to have him go downtown and hand it to her, in person, that very afternoon.
And he knew, because he'd had a good month of experience in this area by now, that going home to sulk in the evening would be difficult at best, outright impossible at worst, because Shuuichi would be there yapping and gabbering and clinging to him like a cocker spaniel, and staring up at him with those goddamn big blue eyes that made it somehow impossible to continue being irritated with him.
Yes, it was a foul, foul day.
"Stop glaring at me."
It was a woman's voice, mellow mezzo and more amused than irritated. Surprised, because he hadn't even realised he still /was/ glaring—it was habit, and he'd been lost in thought—he blinked and focused. He'd been glaring at a pert young woman with red pigtails and a backpack perched on her lap. "What?"
"I said stop glaring at me, Yuki-san." Definitely a trace of laughter beneath the words. That pissed him off.
"Who says I'm glaring at you? Can't I just be glaring? And how the hell do you know me?" That last, he realised as soon as he said it, was probably a stupid question. His picture was in the back of his books often enough, and more recently, there were quite a few of him floating around in teen music magazines as well, thanks to Shuuichi. This girl, with her pigtails and babydoll t-shirt, looked like just the sort who would have those magazines.
But she shrugged. "Because I'm a writer, too, that's why." He eyed her up and down—writer? As in, a real writer, like he was? He doubted it, and his expression told her so. She shrugged and sighed. "Nothing you would have read, though. But that's all right, because I haven't read yours either. Romance novels, aren't they? The usual kind, a man and a woman and a lot of tragic death scenes?"
Yuki just nodded, wanting to point out that his books sold many, many copies, and one stranger's opinion didn't really matter to him. Really, most of his friends' opinions—had he had friends, that is—wouldn't have mattered either. Even Shuuichi's opinion—had Shuuichi been the sort to read books at all—wouldn't have mattered on this one. His editor got a say, and that was pretty much it.
The girl grinned. "Nothing wrong with that. Just not quite my thing. Other people seem to like 'em, though."
His glare softened /just/ a little. Not so much that he might have looked anything less than hostile. But much like his pink-haired lover, the girl seemed utterly undaunted by his unfriendly demeanor.
"You know what? I think you should go home and do something nice for Shuuichi," she said.
Yuki's lovely golden eyes very nearly popped out of his skull. "EXCUSE ME??"
The girl tossed her head, a motion made less effective by the pigtails. "I said do something nice for Shuuichi. How about making dinner for him and having sex all night? You know if he tries to feed himself he'll probably poison himself anyway."
/That/ at least was true, but it was more important to Yuki at the moment that this stranger explain, first, how she knew about Shuuichi in the first place (probably those magazines again, his mind suggested), and what the HELL she was doing telling him to go home and have sex?
"Ergh," he said, his words a little strangled in his throat, "listen, have we met, miss...?"
"Nagisa," she answered pertly. "And no, we haven't. Not exactly." She cocked her head to the side. "Hey, here's an idea. I'm on my way down to the NG studios, you know. Why don't you come with me? You can pick Shuuichi up and ride home with him."
"No." In that Yuki was determined to stand firm. He was /not/ going out of his way for Shuuichi Shindou or anybody else, especially not if it meant spending more time in the company of this weirdo. "And what are you going to the studio for? I thought you said you were a writer." It was not so much that he was interested in what she was doing, as trying very honestly to figure out who the hell she was who knew so much about him.
"Oh, I'm going to see Sakuma Ryuuichi," she answered flippantly. "He's coming home with me tonight. He doesn't know it yet, though."
Yuki eyed her narrowly. "You're a stalker, aren't you?"
Her green eyes went wide. "No! Nothing like that! Anyway, I have a plan." She flipped open the top of her backpack to reveal the black furry head of a stuffed toy kitten. "This is Guenwhyvar. She's going to help. You know Kumagorou? She's going to pounce on him, and take him off to play for a while. Then Ryuuichi will have to sit and talk to me."
Yuki looked from the girl to the stuffed cat...and back to the girl...and back to the cat. The cat, he decided, toy or not, looked like it would rather not be a part of this plan.
"Ah," he said finally. It was best sometimes not to provoke insane people, and he was ready for this conversation to be over.
Nagisa babbled on at him for a while, and he ignored her utterly. He really did. He had no idea what she was telling him, because ignoring her for real was so much easier and nicer than just pretending to, the way he did with Shuuichi.
Finally, the train stopped near the studio. She swung her backpack over her shoulder and grinned at him, and then—insolent child—reached over and TOUSLED HIS HAIR.
Must not kill her must not kill her must not kill her....
"Remember what I said," she told him, leaning over to get her face a very annoying inch or so from his. "Go home and be nice to Shuuichi. And sex. You will, you know. Just wait. You'll see."
Yuki growled at her. She beamed at him, and waved as she hopped off the train. "Ja, Yuki-san!"
He let out a long sigh and sprawled back in his seat, ignoring the glares of the hapless folk around him.
It was a foul, foul day.
****
Much later that night, Nagisa Ashura crawled out of bed. It was cold there, because Ryuuichi had stolen all the blankets. She couldn't complain about that too much, though, when her plan had worked every bit as well as she said it would.
But of course it did. She was a fanfic author, EVERYTHING worked out the way she wanted it to. And the odd self-insert was a wonderful thing.
Case it point—she glanced over at the lump of blankets sharing her bed. She could get up and go write for a while, he was dead asleep and not likely to notice. In the corner, even Guenwhyvar and Kumagorou looked tired.
She wrapped a blanket around herself and padded out to the living room to turn on her laptop. There /was/ still something she needed to do. She'd been distracted enough to forget for a while, but there was still time.
She got a glass of apple juice, sat down at the computer, and started to type.
In another part of Tokyo, Yuki Eiri suddenly jolted out of a sound sleep. He couldn't remember the dream he'd been having, but it must have been good, because he was awfully turned on. And feeling a bit romantic, on top of it.
Only one thing to do about /that/, then. Gently, he nudged the sprawled, sleeping body next to him. "Shuuichi...wake up...."
~Owari~