Author's Babbles: ^_^ Well, here we are at the last chapter! ::ducks sharp pointy objects and someone in a car with tinted windows:: You've all been wonderful, and I'm glad that there's so much interest in this fic, but regretfully I won't be able to do a sequel because— yeah, right. ^_~ Sequel is already in the works, I love you guys too much to be that much of a horrid bitch, not to mention ruin all the lovely sexual tension I've been building up. Though to be perfectly honest, it's been the reviews that have kept me writing this. The fic's been a fickle bitch and I've had to force myself through each and every scene. Curious about what happens in the next phase of this fic? All the clue I'm going to give is that I'm learning about jeitinho, cariocas, and saudade in order to prepare for it. How? By reading a 500 page book. -.- The things I do for accuracy... Also, I'm working with my favoritest co-dooming (heh it's not just RP anymore~) buddy on something that might eventually get published up here. How many of you would be interested in seeing something epic set in ancient Egypt? Featuring KenKen and Ayan, of course. ::crickets chirp:: ...well. We'll see how it goes. o.o;
-+- Nauta Iupiter: ::huggie:: n_n ::bad Russian/Pakistani/Caribbean gypsy accent:: This sequel that comes, it have many cliffhanger, just for you! Is special this week, only cost me two dolla for each! *ahem* No need to throttle me or kill me with lingua latina. The sequel, she will'a get written. And I wish there was something I could do to help with the obnoxious roomie...
-+- Katarzyna K Yue: XD I'm still waiting for that whipping, or do you just plan to tease..?
-+- MooMooMilk: Aww, I'd never let Ken suffocate. ...If I did that, who'd be left to abuse? *cough*
-+- Carter Tachikawa: You know, the conclusion honestly wasn't going to be thrilling at all. It was going to be anticlimactic and a real downer. ^^; Then I smacked myself and wrote this.
-+- Shime: That's the spirit! Death threats are a great motivator. XD
-+- Hakuryuu: ^_~;; Hey! Stop staring at my plot holes! ::hides behind Diego and waves the pigeon as a distraction:: But you're right, I needed him though he didn't need to be in there, per se. It came out more awkward than intended, but eh, writing is a learning process. n_n Maybe I'll recycle him at a later date so he doesn't look so much like what he is... a tool. .;
-+- Thespian Soldier: ^_^; Someone cares more about my health than the fic! ...yeah, right. ^_~ huggies @ Sky~
-+- Marty: I toe the line of melodrama, but I try not to wade in it too often. Angst, on the other hand... Anyway, the ending of this chapter is all for you, since you're not getting your monkey sex. (I mean, Ran could technically back Ken into a bathroom somewhere and screw him within an inch of his life, and they'd both be a lot better off, but then there wouldn't be enough angst!) BUT. n_n I promise at least one NC-17 chapter in the sequel~
Thanks also to Shavika, marsupial, and Corrupt Prodigy for the reviews. ^_^
/Everywhere I go I see your face
Every sound I hear is the sound of your voice
Why are you haunting me? Why can't I let you go?
So everything about me is a lie,
At least it seems that way when I look in your eyes.
The truth scares the shit out of me.../
~Stabbing Westward, "Haunting Me"~
//chapter 7//
Ran turned several interesting shades of pink, which caused Ken to laugh, which caused him to start coughing painfully, which caused Ran to have something to focus on other than his own embarassment. He grumbled something about it serving Ken right and that got him a glare for his efforts.
Weiss had left several deep imprints in its wake, and they worked flawlessly together to get Ken cleaned up. Ran turned around politely while Ken changed – amidst colorful curses in Portuguese that the redhead was vaguely glad he couldn't understand – into clean clothes, and then it was back to the convention. Ken was hurt, yeah, but not hurt enough that he'd let Diego win by hiding out, as if scared of what else the Argentinian might do.
"Hey, Ran?" Ken paused outside of the conference room, turning fully to face the taller man since just looking over his shoulder was going to pull on very irate back muscles. "Don't go after Diego when I'm in the meeting."
Ran had actually been planning on it. It was uncanny how well his teammate could read him, even after all this time. He cleared his throat.
"Of course. I'll wait for you."
Ken just shook his head, giving him a rueful little half-smile. One dimple appeared, appealing despite the bruises.
"Nah. I'll just make sure my team kicks his ass so well at the next match that he doesn't have the balls to try hurting one of my players again. That's all that matters." He shrugged lightly. "Not that I wouldn't love t' put my fist through his face, not that 's not what my instincts are telling me to do... but it'd just perpetuate the childishness. I'm gonna handle this like a man." A brighter grin, and he disappeared amidst a small sea of people making their way into the room.
Ran blinked. Ken had done a lot of growing up, but.. was that really the right way to handle this? Wasn't he just encouraging the Argentinian to worse actions by not pounding the shit out of him and proving once and for all that such foolishness wasn't going to be accepted? Still, it wasn't his decision. A smirk settled in place. He'd heard the expression "fist through face" before, but of all the people who had uttered it, only Siberian would actually be able to physically make that happen.
And oddly, the thought brought with it a strange, twisted sensation of fondness.
"Ken! Jesus, what happened to you?"
The brunette shrugged lightly, flashing a grin at the concerned head coach. He settled into his chair and ran a hand through his hair, which promptly flopped back into his eyes. He'd have to let Roberto hack at it again when he got back home...
Falling down the stairs? Naw, he'd never buy that...
"Bar fight," he lied smoothly. The fact that he could now lie smoothly never settled well. "One too many an' some asshole let his mouth run, an' the one too many meant that I didn't size him up right. So I got my ass kicked."
"Like you'd ever get your ass kicked, Ken." The older man was giving him a real good once-over, as if trying to gauge the extent of the damage with just his eyes. He'd need x-ray vision if he wanted to accomplish anything useful, though; Ken had made sure to put on a baggy sweatshirt with a high collar.
Both dimples flashed this time, and he winked.
"Hey, weirder things have happened."
The conference wound down to an early close. The delegates had all been irritated that it ran into a major holiday from the start, and all of them were too busy grumbling about not being with their families to get much accomplished at this point anyway. Still, politics had shifted and money had exchanged hands – or bank accounts, rather – and though nothing seemed to have been overtly accomplished, there was a general feeling of good will and mutual understanding only emphasized by the holiday season.
Ran waited outside, straddling the sleek bike. It was a heavy, warm presence against the insides of his thighs, the purring of the engine vibrating through his whole body. Ken seemed distracted as he climbed on the back. This time they didn't sit in traffic long on the way to the hotel; people were home now, spending the day with their families. Ran was looking forward to a long walk around Central Park with a tall cup of coffee in hand, and then the oppressive seclusion of his own apartment.
Holidays weren't meant for people who had no one to spend them with.
He waited outside while Ken packed up. It didn't take the brunette more than ten minutes: he'd been living out of his suitcase anyway. He hadn't been in New York long enough to unpack and make himself at home. Ken jogged back outside with an absent smile, duffel bag over one shoulder. Ran tried to not pay the arm around his waist much heed on the way to the airport. It was almost like a prolonged hug... No, he wasn't going to think about it.
JFK was busier than Ran would have expected. It was way too late for last-minute travel, but no one else seemed to realize that. Frowning faces made their way around the terminals. No one was happy about traveling on a holiday, and even the overly-cheery Christmas music didn't do anything to alleviate the overwhelming vibes of irritation buzzing through the steel-and-concrete halls.
Since it was the holiday season everything was running late, including the two men trying to get Ken to his plane on time. It was fitting, then, that there was a problem first with Ken's duffel bag – one of the airport security guards seemed convinced that it was a Suspicious Item and that Ken (innocent face, bruises, and all) was a Suspicious Person – and then with his passport – why would a Japanese citizen have a Brazilian passport? And why hadn't he gotten a visitor's visa on his way into the States? And why did he hold a certificate of diplomacy if he wasn't a politician? – and then with his ticket – seat 44B? No, someone was already in that. Yes, they understood that Ken had made reservations months ago, but this woman had forgotten to include her two-year-old in the reservations and really, it'd be inhuman to make her travel the whole way with the child on her lap, didn't he agree? – and Ran just played the passive role of the interpreter that he was paid for, his irritation dampened by a strange feeling that had settled low in the pit of his stomach.
"You ever get the feeling that something's tryin' it's damndest to keep you from going where you need to go?"
Violet eyes blinked and turned to look at the brunette. Ken, for his part, was leaning against one of the building's support columns, staring at the half-empty bottle of orange juice in his hand.
"Not really, no." Ran's life had flowed seamlessly since his arrival in the States years back. Seamlessly and predictably, but then, that was how he had wanted it to be. He had set his mind to having his life shape itself a certain way, and life had bent itself to his will.
"Figures."
Ran looked up sharply at that, but Ken was still looking at the bottle, tan fingers peeling the label off of the orange juice. For some reason the repetitive motions were an irritant to Ran, and he looked away.
A female voice announced that boarding was starting, and listed off the rows that were meant to start getting on the plane. Ken looked over his shoulder at the people disappearing into the cavernous tunnel that led to the airplane.
"I hate flying, you know. 's not right, not having the ground right under your feet where you know where it is." He tapped one sneaker against the terminal floor to demonstrate his point.
Ran shrugged lightly.
"It's safer than driving a car."
"Yeah, but with a car, you have control. With a plane, your life's in the hands of a sleep-deprived man and computers." Ken grinned lightly. Boarding continued in the background, and a child started wailing as its mother dragged it towards the plane.
"You don't like not being in control?"
This time it was Ken who shrugged.
"Depends on the situation. Everyone needs to give up control once in a while, 's exhausting to keep a tight grip on things all the time."
Brown eyes glanced up, and Ran found himself sinking into a world of warm, deep mahogany and layered meanings. He wasn't meant to take Ken's words at face value, and looking into the other man's eyes, it was impossible to not feel the familiar tension from earlier.
Ken's row was called and the brunette broke eye contact, chugging back the rest of the orange juice and tossing the empty bottle unerringly into a recycling bin several feet away.
"I guess I'll see you around, ne?"
The brunette stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled, brown eyes guarded and hiding his thoughts where they usually professed them loudly.
"I suppose so. Goodbye, Ken."
Ran offered his hand, and Ken shook it slowly.
"Bye, Ran. Thanks for..." He shook his head. "Just thanks."
He turned around and headed for the terminal. Ran looked down at his hand. It still tingled from the shorter man's warm grip, as if he'd somehow branded the imprint of his hand onto Ran's palm.
He wasn't going to see Ken ever again. The fact hadn't entered his mind before but now it slammed into him with a sure finality that made something within him twist sharply. Ken had a life back in Brazil, a life that didn't include guns or danger or lies. The only thing he had to keep a tight grip on was lies about the past, and the only danger he faced was from lukewarm villains like Diego, the impolite Argentinian who didn't even know how to properly beat somebody half to death.
And Ran had his life, too, a new life in which he threw his body as a physical shield to protect overpaid, overfed politicians and dignitaries and businessmen, a life in which getting shot at was still a possibility, a life in which he kept his own feelings neatly suppressed by being a machine, a translator. Extracurricular activities were all philanthropic and impersonal; he had a lot of money and nothing to spend it on, why not give it back to the city that kept him effectively hidden from Kritiker, who still contacted him in an attempt to lure him back to the same life he'd lived in Weiss?
Ken was waiting in line, one hand absently lifting to rub at ribs that were still sore. Ran's mind jolted back to the night in the club: a warm, wet mouth against the side of his throat, searing a mark into suddenly-overheated pale skin. Ken's body pressed back against his, Ken's voice soothing and unassuming in his ear.
Ken's grip releasing, the brush of lips leaving his skin to be replaced by a chill emptiness. Ken's dark eyes hooded as he told Ran that it was time to leave.
Ran was falling. His world had been so tidy and organized and then Ken had to show up, throwing it all violently out of balance with his easy smiles, with the comfort that was waiting for Ran in those incredible eyes if he only took the first step. Ken, who knew his past in explicit detail and wouldn't judge him for it because his own past was just as scarred. Ken, who wouldn't offer false sympathy if Ran wanted help to heal old scars, just a constant, loyal presence like a balm against old fears and old lies.
"Ken..."
He didn't ralize he'd said the name out loud, and he certainly didn't hear the almost anguished tone underscoring it into an exclamation. Ken turned around, casting him a worried look as he jogged a bit closer.
"Ran..?"
Brown eyes widened as the redhead closed the remaining steps between them with two quick strides and a pale hand fisted in the front of his shirt.
"Ran, what the hell are you—"
And then Ran hauled him roughly closer and his lips found Ken's, and his brain shut down abruptly as his body trembled just to be that close to the brunette's. Warm velvet, soft and pliant and inviting... Ken untensed against him and someone – he couldn't even keep track anymore -- deepened the kiss, and Ran was completely lost in a world of warmth and sugar tinged around the edges with the flavor of unnaturally sweeted oranges.
Ken's hand crept into his hair and he shivered again, one arm sneaking around the brunette's waist to splay against the small of his back and pull him closer. He was distantly aware of the buzz of the crowd and the fact that they were in a public place. It was New York and no one would be too horribly shocked but they were still kissing in the middle of an airport terminal and it was so bizarre and felt so.. damned... good...
"Last boarding call for flight 848 to São Paulo."
Ran had the distinct feeling that the announcement was purely for Ken's benefit. The brunette tensed and pulled back and Ran let him go, lifting his eyes slowly as Ken stepped completely out of the circle of his arms, the warmth pressed against him only seconds ago now a stride away.
Ken lifted a hand to his lips, brown eyes flooded with feelings that Ran couldn't read, and shook his head in exasperation.
"Jesus Christ, Ran. Now you make up your fucking mind? Now?!"
"I..."
"Shut up."
Ken's arms were around his neck in a desperate hug and he didn't know how to respond until it was too late and Ken had pulled back once more.
"Damn you, Fujimiya." There wasn't an ounce of malice in Ken's words, just a dull note of pain that made Ran instantly regret his actions. "You better call me, or I'm gonna fly out here and kick your ass."
And then he was gone, disappearing down the makeshift tunnel. Ran watched the plane taxi out onto the runway, hands shoved deeply into his pockets of his overpriced pants and his lips still tingling from the kiss.
Ken had fallen back into his life and now he flew back out of it, just like that.
Ran shook his head to try to clear it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the corners of his lips to creep back down. He wore the silly half-grin for the rest of the day and when he got back to his apartment, he'd found that his landlord had fixed the heating in time for Christmas.
//end chapter 7//
--+--
//postlogue//
"Tio!"
Ken looked up, the familiar little voice calling him 'uncle' bringing an instant smile to his lips. He had plenty of warning to drop to one knee.
"Tiotiotiotiotiotiotio!!!"
Ken laughed as a dark-haired five-year-old projectile threw herself into his arms, practically strangling him with the surprising strength of her little arms.
"I guess I don't have to ask if you missed me, eh, María?"
She shook her head, dark ponytails bobbing with sincerity. "Nuh-uh. 'cos you know I missed you! Papa's been making me wear dresses!"
Ken chuckled, noting the blue-grey foam 'crown' that he'd brought back was firmly planted on her head. Slower footsteps caused him to look up.
"Welcome back, Ken."
"Hey, Bruno. Life's been good?"
"Yeah, but too quiet without you. And the little one's been complaining about not being able to see her 'tio Ken' every day since you've been gone. It's been driving Luiza to distraction."
Ken grinned, standing back up with the little girl still wrapped around him like some strange type of growth. Bruno nudged her out of the way long enough to pull Ken into a rib-crushing hug. A huge, dark-tanned hand ruffled his hair, and Ken winced.
"Oi!"
"It's good to have you back home, Ken."
Brown eyes crinkled in another smile and Ken took a deep breath of hot, tropical air.
"It's good to be home." But he couldn't help letting his thoughts stray to the contrast of the north-east, cold air and cold eyes and a startlingly warm kiss. "It's good to be home," he repeated, almost as if trying to convince himself of the fact.
//end postlogue//
//end "Running Away"//
n_n Thanks once again to everyone who's taken the time to read this ficcie. I hope it wasn't too much of a disappointment in light of the fact that it's only one part of something much bigger. I can't promise how soon I'll have the first part of the sequel out; I need to finish doing a lot of research for it and iron out more details, but hopefully I'll be able to get it out within the month.
~Ko'~