AN: And still with the song lyrics. This story just feels really
important to me. They lyrics are from Wild Angels by Martina McBride.
He had promised. The plane touched down, then lifted off again, only to settle firmly on the ground. It was not a long flight from Koyto to Narita. The small commuter plane he'd gotten a seat on had been faster than he'd expected. Tohma would understand. Eventually. Eiri lifted the edges of his jacket and sleeve cuffs. It was ten minutes after ten. Shuichi would be here still.
They'd told him the next flight out to Tokyo didn't leave until one o'clock, so he was fairly sure that Shuichi would stay in the hotel for one more night. He leaned back against the seat, only distantly aware of the airport lights outside the window as they passed by. He would have called, messaged, something, but he was afraid that someone would intercept or that Tohma would try to hinder his movements. If Shuichi knew he was coming, it would only be moments before Hiro, then K, then Tohma knew. Eiri imagined the scene in his mind, Shuichi waving the cell phone around. So he'd not told him.
He'd rent a car, find the hotel, then they'd got away for a while. Images of what had been written as the ending on his book ghosted up into his mind and he swallowed, wished for something harder than beer. Sometimes keeping his promises to Shuichi got pretty hard. Of course, what he really needed was a long drink of Pink Fire and a rum and coke would just make that farther away.
When the plane came to a stop, he flicked the seat belt, took his carry on from the seat next to him and made for the exit. It was only a twenty seater, and only half full at that. A family of five, himself, a business woman who spoke French, most of the flight she was yelling in French on her cell phone, and another man who looked like a religious man of some kind, a missionary from America perhaps. Yuki hadn't said a hardly a word the whole flight, but now that he was here, the air brushed over his face and he felt safe for the first time two days. He felt alive, tension left him leaving him with a different kind of tension that only Pink fire could burn away.
"Yuki-san," the lone stewardess said, touching his arm lightly.
He paused, turned to her, the lights of the airport reflected over his eyes, spilled pink neon on his cream colored jacket. She smiled, and tucked her chin, bit her lip, and he knew it was coming. He smiled back, plastic, but such a perfect smile. He patted down his pocked and found a pen. The smile became genuine as his fingers moved over the engraved words. 'Always all my love, Shuichi.' One of these days, Eiri thought. He was going to write that, 'Always, all my love, Shuichi!' for someone, because sometimes, he was only signing because he thought of Shuichi. She held out her book, his second to last.
He took it, stepped out of the way so the family could exit the plane, right down to the pavement then off across to the airport. It was a bit more private that way, and another reason Eiri liked the small commuters over the bigger commercial ones. Opening the book, an argument they'd had came back to him. It was an historical romance and the hero had tipped the lady of his heart back, stared into her eyes, and then kissed her with passion. Eiri'd written it before he meet Shuichi and he would not give into his lover's begging to be dipped and kissed like that, no matter how much Shuichi begged. Eiri had almost spent the night on his own couch over it, but Shuichi had given in and he hadn't gotten dipped.
Eiri tapped the edge tip of his pen to the paper and tried to get his mind back to the present and out of fantasies of holding Shuichi. In the end, he wrote, "To the lady who helped me remember a gift that I could give, grateful, Yuki Eiri."
He could still hear her squealing like a schoolgirl as he walked towards the airport. Much to his annoyance, the missionary from the flight caught up with him and held out his hand as if to introduce himself. Yuki gave him a cold look, one that had sent editors crying before, but got him now nothing more than a bigger smile.
"I'm John! You must Yuki Eiri! I'm so pleased to meet you," the man said in English.
Yuki wished for sunglasses of invisibility, or something that only Shuichi could pull off. Without taking his hand, Yuki nodded politely. "Visiting from the States?" he replied in English, politely.
The man nodded, "Actually yes! How did you know? You speak very good English! I'm here for two years, working as a missionary, taking odd jobs as I learn better Japanese. It's been quite the culture shock! My family is a big fan of yours, of the translations of your work."
"Thank you," Yuki replied, unsettled by another fan so soon. "There is a big difference in cultures. I must go now. Have a pleasant evening, John- san."
Yuki turned abruptly and headed towards a different terminal entrance.
"Now you shouldn't oughta be like that! I was just being nice," John called out after him.
Yuki ignored him, and kept walking. What was the man going to do, shot him?
Another plane was landing and he told himself it would be a good excuse to get in off the tarmac. Then he stopped and almost dropped his bag. Shindo Shuichi was pasted to the window, watching the plane land. Shuichi was waiting for him. There wasn't really any doubt. Between his belly and the window was a huge sign that read, "Pink Fire for Rent!"
Yuki Eiri covered his face with a hand and started to laugh. That was a fantasy he'd wanted to play, months ago, and Shuichi had refused hard core. He was not a street walker, not even in the living room, he'd said, and now he was for rent in the airport. They were a romance novel, the two of them. He picked up his pace and got into the terminal.
Shuichi never saw him coming. He dropped his bag on the chair next to him and the singer looked over his shoulder. "Eiri!!"
Eiri caught him in his arms, spinning around with Shuichi attached to him like some cheesy movie and for once, Eiri really didn't mind. They were both safe, both happy. "Eiri! How did you get here so soon! I was afraid I'd be," Shuichi started, but Eiri cut him off. He got him on his feet and dipped him back over, just like in the book, one hand behind his head, one at the small of his back and he kissed him, deeply just like in the book.
It was such a sudden movement, no warning for Shuichi and none for the person who sent the dart.
It hit in a brown bag wheeled by a rather portly European man, the little brown and read pheasant feather at the end of it almost blending in so that no one saw the dart at all.
Shuichi returned Eiri's kiss, tongue to tongue and they were both thinking the same thing.
Next Chapter..
Pwp lemon in the airport bathroom.
He had promised. The plane touched down, then lifted off again, only to settle firmly on the ground. It was not a long flight from Koyto to Narita. The small commuter plane he'd gotten a seat on had been faster than he'd expected. Tohma would understand. Eventually. Eiri lifted the edges of his jacket and sleeve cuffs. It was ten minutes after ten. Shuichi would be here still.
They'd told him the next flight out to Tokyo didn't leave until one o'clock, so he was fairly sure that Shuichi would stay in the hotel for one more night. He leaned back against the seat, only distantly aware of the airport lights outside the window as they passed by. He would have called, messaged, something, but he was afraid that someone would intercept or that Tohma would try to hinder his movements. If Shuichi knew he was coming, it would only be moments before Hiro, then K, then Tohma knew. Eiri imagined the scene in his mind, Shuichi waving the cell phone around. So he'd not told him.
He'd rent a car, find the hotel, then they'd got away for a while. Images of what had been written as the ending on his book ghosted up into his mind and he swallowed, wished for something harder than beer. Sometimes keeping his promises to Shuichi got pretty hard. Of course, what he really needed was a long drink of Pink Fire and a rum and coke would just make that farther away.
When the plane came to a stop, he flicked the seat belt, took his carry on from the seat next to him and made for the exit. It was only a twenty seater, and only half full at that. A family of five, himself, a business woman who spoke French, most of the flight she was yelling in French on her cell phone, and another man who looked like a religious man of some kind, a missionary from America perhaps. Yuki hadn't said a hardly a word the whole flight, but now that he was here, the air brushed over his face and he felt safe for the first time two days. He felt alive, tension left him leaving him with a different kind of tension that only Pink fire could burn away.
"Yuki-san," the lone stewardess said, touching his arm lightly.
He paused, turned to her, the lights of the airport reflected over his eyes, spilled pink neon on his cream colored jacket. She smiled, and tucked her chin, bit her lip, and he knew it was coming. He smiled back, plastic, but such a perfect smile. He patted down his pocked and found a pen. The smile became genuine as his fingers moved over the engraved words. 'Always all my love, Shuichi.' One of these days, Eiri thought. He was going to write that, 'Always, all my love, Shuichi!' for someone, because sometimes, he was only signing because he thought of Shuichi. She held out her book, his second to last.
He took it, stepped out of the way so the family could exit the plane, right down to the pavement then off across to the airport. It was a bit more private that way, and another reason Eiri liked the small commuters over the bigger commercial ones. Opening the book, an argument they'd had came back to him. It was an historical romance and the hero had tipped the lady of his heart back, stared into her eyes, and then kissed her with passion. Eiri'd written it before he meet Shuichi and he would not give into his lover's begging to be dipped and kissed like that, no matter how much Shuichi begged. Eiri had almost spent the night on his own couch over it, but Shuichi had given in and he hadn't gotten dipped.
Eiri tapped the edge tip of his pen to the paper and tried to get his mind back to the present and out of fantasies of holding Shuichi. In the end, he wrote, "To the lady who helped me remember a gift that I could give, grateful, Yuki Eiri."
He could still hear her squealing like a schoolgirl as he walked towards the airport. Much to his annoyance, the missionary from the flight caught up with him and held out his hand as if to introduce himself. Yuki gave him a cold look, one that had sent editors crying before, but got him now nothing more than a bigger smile.
"I'm John! You must Yuki Eiri! I'm so pleased to meet you," the man said in English.
Yuki wished for sunglasses of invisibility, or something that only Shuichi could pull off. Without taking his hand, Yuki nodded politely. "Visiting from the States?" he replied in English, politely.
The man nodded, "Actually yes! How did you know? You speak very good English! I'm here for two years, working as a missionary, taking odd jobs as I learn better Japanese. It's been quite the culture shock! My family is a big fan of yours, of the translations of your work."
"Thank you," Yuki replied, unsettled by another fan so soon. "There is a big difference in cultures. I must go now. Have a pleasant evening, John- san."
Yuki turned abruptly and headed towards a different terminal entrance.
"Now you shouldn't oughta be like that! I was just being nice," John called out after him.
Yuki ignored him, and kept walking. What was the man going to do, shot him?
Another plane was landing and he told himself it would be a good excuse to get in off the tarmac. Then he stopped and almost dropped his bag. Shindo Shuichi was pasted to the window, watching the plane land. Shuichi was waiting for him. There wasn't really any doubt. Between his belly and the window was a huge sign that read, "Pink Fire for Rent!"
Yuki Eiri covered his face with a hand and started to laugh. That was a fantasy he'd wanted to play, months ago, and Shuichi had refused hard core. He was not a street walker, not even in the living room, he'd said, and now he was for rent in the airport. They were a romance novel, the two of them. He picked up his pace and got into the terminal.
Shuichi never saw him coming. He dropped his bag on the chair next to him and the singer looked over his shoulder. "Eiri!!"
Eiri caught him in his arms, spinning around with Shuichi attached to him like some cheesy movie and for once, Eiri really didn't mind. They were both safe, both happy. "Eiri! How did you get here so soon! I was afraid I'd be," Shuichi started, but Eiri cut him off. He got him on his feet and dipped him back over, just like in the book, one hand behind his head, one at the small of his back and he kissed him, deeply just like in the book.
It was such a sudden movement, no warning for Shuichi and none for the person who sent the dart.
It hit in a brown bag wheeled by a rather portly European man, the little brown and read pheasant feather at the end of it almost blending in so that no one saw the dart at all.
Shuichi returned Eiri's kiss, tongue to tongue and they were both thinking the same thing.
Next Chapter..
Pwp lemon in the airport bathroom.