A/N: Thanks for the response! Awwww, now I feel speshul… Anyways, as requested this is the party. Well, the build up and maybe the start of it. Maybe I should write this after I've finished the chapter. Ah well…

Stuff: Oh, I forgot to mention this but surprise, surprise I don't own anyone or anything associated however remotely with anything to do with Gravitation. So you'd better believe it.

And neither do I own any of the baking ingredients described!

I have decided to call mobiles, mobiles. Cells, mobiles whatever, for the sake of this they're mobiles.

Kat: Sorry, Shoa's beta here, also a quick mention she might not have put in: the names in this fic are the English way around. Okie day! Enjoy!

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Yuki looked at the white porcelain cup on the table in front of him. It was about as interesting as the dark stain of coffee in the saucer, which in turn was as interesting as the red checked table cloth below. He clinked the spoon against the cup, idly tapping out a tune.

"Are you even listening, Eiri-san? Can you put that spoon down and stop tapping that infernal song all the kids listen to? I'm trying to tell you something and you're not even trying to listen."

Yuki put the spoon down and turned one of his best death glares on his publisher. A thought struck him.

"How old are you?"

"- so the sales were- Huh? What?" Yamato looked up in surprise. The blonde author was staring at his coffee again.

"How old are you?" He repeated.

"Forty two. Why?"  Yamato answered puzzled.

Yuki clenched his teeth. A thought came to him. So new that it was practically repulsive, that he, Yuki, was young. It was only the past year that he could've drunk in America or driven a car. The thought struck him so blindingly obvious that it was like saying the sun rose on a morning.

"I'm twenty two today. Twenty-two years on this planet and what've I got to show for it? You've been in publishing longer than I've been alive."

Exasperated, Yamato sighed. The kid had everything: a talent for writing he hadn't seen in many years, fame, money, a nice car. What more could he want?

"What's wrong with you kids these days? You've got things at twenty-two that most of us never get in a lifetime. Quit whining and listen to me. Now the latest figures show an increase in-"

"Am I a kid?" Yuki persisted, a niggling thought growing in his mind.

"What? Look, Eiri, I'm not your therapist. If you want to pay me thousands of yen an hour I can be, but as it stands I'm your poor underpaid publisher. Not even that! I'm a go between for you and the big guy in the chair."

Kid. No one had ever called him 'kid', even when he was. Kid… an older person talking down to a younger one. Older, more experienced, a degree from the university of life. Right now Yuki felt like he was still in the changing rooms when everyone else was already out of the pool and in the sauna. Why didn't he understand? A long time ago he had been left behind, then with one reflex action of his index finger he had been catapulted into adulthood, his childhood ripped from him. It had left a gaping hole in him, but it had also unleashed his ability to write. To put the raw emotions he felt so keenly onto paper. It helped to fill the blank in his life, to create a world outside his own, so he didn't have to feel his own pain anymore.

"EIRI YUKI!"

Yuki jumped and glared at Yamato who had brought his fist down on the table in frustration. The guy was always stressed but this was the first time he had been shouted at in a public place. Sure he'd ducked a few projectile desk objects in his time, but he'd never been shouted at like this.

"What?" He asked coldly.

Yamato took a deep breath to calm himself. "Are you over your little blip? Can we continue talking about your work? The best literature Japan has ever seen?"

Yuki narrowed his eyes and inclined his head.

"Good. Yuki, your new novel has topped the lists in Japan and in America under a translation. It's sold out. We're paying the printing guys six figure sums to get more. Do you understand that?"

"Yes." Yuki replied emotionlessly.

"And? Don't you have an opinion on that?"

"Can I go now?"

"NO! We have to talk."

"I thought that was what we were doing?"

"For god's sake, don't play games. What I mean is, where do you want to go? The boss wants to know, as do I'm sure a lot of other people. Are you happy to keep spewing out best selling novels? He's getting worried that this is too good to last."

"As long as I have hands to write I will. Does that satisfy you?"

"No! What if you lost your hands in a horrible kitchen accident?"

Yuki cocked an eyebrow and sighed, this was getting beyond ridiculous. He wanted to go. Away from the plastic covered tablecloth and the cheap wicker chairs. Away from these questions that were raising imponderable thoughts in his mind.

"Then I'd make Shuichi be my scribe. Happy?"

Yamato smiled and clasped his hands together. He wasn't religious but he did believe in having security of sanity and for that he'd thank anyone who may or may not be listening. His boss wanted Yuki's word he would carry on writing and Yamato could say he had it; his job was safe for now. But then there was the other issue to tackle, the one devised by the greedy money-grabbing guy on a leather chair that called himself Boss.

"Yes. Now about this expansion-"

Just as planned and right on cue, Yuki cut across.

"What expansion?"

Yamato chose his words carefully, now not only fearing for his job but the possible damage those eyes could do to his nervous system.

"Well… the Boss was wondering, ya see… that seeing as though you're the best author-"

"Yeah, yeah don't sweet talk me Yamato. What does he want me to do?"

"Well, he's got a big opportunity for you-"

"What is it…?"

Yamato winced, Yuki hardly ever asked questions he directed statements with deadly accuracy instead. Questions were below him most of the time.

"He wants you to consider taking your writing in a new direction."

"Like what?"

"West, for example."

"America?"

"Ermm…no. Not exactly. A little further. You already have a loyal following in the States as well as in Japan, he was thinking more of England."

"Huh…? What, that rainy little island in the middle of the Atlantic?"

"Your grasp of geography is amazing, but your sarcasm? That was perfect. Yes, England."

Yuki let the words mull around in his mind. England. It had a nice ring to it. How could it work though? England was famously the land of wordsmiths, their language almost universally spoken in someway. It would be tough to break in.

"It'll be tough but, once you're in the market its just a case of how fast we can produce books. They've already been translated, so no worries there, all that matters is the demand."

Yuki remained silent. Thinking, the sparks of activity passing from neuron to neuron faster than a blinking eye.

"We were thinking of a promo tour, signings and appearances. Bigger than anything we've done before, it'll add noughts to your bank account."

"I'd have to go to England?"

"Errr, yes. Just for a year or so. But it'd be-"

There was the scraping of a cheap wicker chair being dragged back over tiles and expensive yet carelessly chosen shoes walking away.

"I'll think about it." Yuki called back over his shoulder.

Yamato gaped at the receding figure. He was still alive, with all his appendages, he high-fived the air.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 "200 grams of sugar… huh? Sakumaaaaaa!"

Shuichi groaned as he turned round to see the sugar had been added to the mess of flour and eggs around Ryuichi.

"Seeeee! It's Kumagoro's castle! And now it's all snowy." The singer sprinkled some more sugar over the pile of baking ingredients on the floor.

"Lovely, but ya see the thing is I need the sugar for the cake."

Ryuichi stuck out his tongue as Shuichi prised the precious sugar from his grasp. He smiled again though when he replaced it with hundreds and thousands in a sprinkley top.

"I hope Yuki isn't too mad…" Shuichi mused adding the final ingredient. He had had this party planned for weeks, forgetting that the thing Yuki hated most was having even the slightest glimmer of fun, but he had gone ahead anyway. It'd cheer him up more than anything else. Even if Yuki stormed out he could still have a party, and hell Yuki's place was big enough. Just as the pink haired singer was putting the cake in the oven the phone rang. Trust someone to ring at this vital moment. He wrinkled his nose, slamming the oven door, which bounced back open again. He kicked it, causing it to bang open again.

"Grrr! Shut, you bugger!" He firmly closed the door and ran out into the hall. Behind him, the stainless steel door swung open yet again. Grinning, Ryuichi closed it with a gentle click.

"Hello?"

"Shuichi? It's K."

"Errr, hi?"

No one ever called this phone wanting him. In fact it was so rare this phone ever rung he was surprised it knew how.

"Is Ryuichi still there?"

"Yeah."

"Well don't let him get into too much trouble, will ya? Anyway, it was you I wanted to speak to-"

"But this is-"

"Yeah, his highness's line I know, just listen to me will ya? I've been talking to, well talked at, by Tohma and you need to round up your little band and womble on down to the studio."

"Now? But it's the weekend, K!"

"Yeah, my heart bleeds, but this is important. Trust me. Have I ever let you down?"

"No. Will we be long?"

"Depends how you want to play it. See ya in half an hour."

The line went dead and Shuichi replaced the receiver thoughtfully. What could K possibly want at this time? It was so annoying; his whole day was going to be screwed up. Muttering he pulled out his mobile. He knew Yuki would go ballistic if he used the landline. Flicking through the names in his phone book he pressed the call button when the name 'Hiro mob' came up. He counted the rings one, two, three…twenty one, twenty two…

"'lo."

"Twenty three rings Hiro! What if I really needed you?"

"Then you'd have to wait, I was on the phone to-"

"Her. I'd guessed-"

"Ooooh, Shuichi, getting jealous?"

"No, I have Yuki and you have Ayaka-chan, but this is important!"

"Go ahead then."

"K wants us at the studio now. He says it's important."

"Urgh, why?"

"I dunno, can you pick me up?"

"Yeah, sure. See ya in a minute."

"Bye."

Shuichi pressed end and jabbed in Fujisaki's number. As he expected the green haired boy agreed without any hesitation, which annoyed him no end. He wondered if the keyboardist had ever been curious about anything in his life. Outside, he heard the roar of the bike's engine as Hiro pulled up outside Yuki's apartment block. Grabbing his hoody and keys Shuichi poked his head in the kitchen to see what Ryuichi was doing. As it turned out he was staring entranced in front of the oven's glass door. He'd be all right for half an hour on his own Shuichi thought heading for the door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fifteen minutes later the two friends walked through the sliding glass doors of the studio, helmets in hand.

"So what could this be about, do ya reckon?" Hiro asked running a hand through his hair.

"Dunno. Hi Holly," Shuichi grinned at the American receptionist. "Where are we wanted?"

The brunette girl looked up from her computer screen and smiled a greeting.

"President's office, you know your way."

"Thank you!"

Still puzzled the two made their way to the lift and pressed the button, the doors slid open and they stepped inside the mirrored cube. Hiro pushed the illuminated button marked 16 and they began their ascent. They stood in silence, wondering at their own private thoughts; Hiro began to tap his foot in time to a song in his head. Subconsciously, Shuichi joined in as the floors flicked by. By the time they reached the sixteenth floor they were in full swing of their rendition of an old Grasper song, shoes squeaking on the lino floor they walked along corridors, as they drew up in front of the grand double doors Hiro strung his last note on an invisible guitar and Shuichi let his last note fall. They looked at each other and grinned sheepishly. Memories of their school days flittering in front of their eyes for a second as they knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

Together they entered the room. Tohma was sat at his desk with his fingers steepled together and K was sat on a chair, as was Fujisaki.

"Right, you're all here. I want to cut to the chase, this is how it is." Tohma began as the rest of Bad Luck took a seat. "I had a phone call about an hour ago from a friend of mine who had an interesting proposition. He's Director of a big string of clubs and things in England, and in memory of the old days he wanted to know if Nittle Grasper would do a comeback tour over there. However, I thought that a comeback tour sounded too much like one of these fallen bands coming back for the final greatest hits album that dies horribly, so I put something to him, how about a Grasper/Bad Luck tour?"

There was silence. The words had been spoken so quickly Shuichi had barely had time to register them before Tohma plunged on.

"He thought it would be a great idea, a way of promoting Japanese music overseas so he's holding the dates for us for another hour. I need an answer though."

"Yes."

Hiro and Shuichi glared at Fujisaki. At the same time they both burst into a tirade.

"What…Ayaka…About…Yuki?"

"Whoa! Chill!" He replied nonplussed.

"Look I need an answer. This could take you higher than you already are, what about topping three charts? Japan, America and Britain? It would be a first in the history of Japanese music. And it would be yours. Just think about it yeah? But quickly. You've got ten minutes."

Shuichi stared at Hiro, both their minds a mess.

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A/N: Okay so there wasn't any of the party in it, but there will be next chapter I promise! I just get carried away with other things sorry… anyway thanks for getting this far.

Shoa UK (aka Pyromanic Firework)