Black Candles

Kamui Shirou was trying very, very hard not to seem like a love sick teenager who just got a date with his favourite star. He realised that he liked this relative of his (that's right. He hated and detests the rest of them) very, very much. He had reasoned to himself that it was okay to like his brother in law. I mean, he thought, I love Kotori.

Being a rock star was a burden. Heavy make up, bodyguards, managers, fans, obsessed fanatics and critics. Funny how half the world is on your side but the other half's against you.

Fuuma felt very uncomfortable. He felt those violet eyes on him, as if he was sitting opposite his stalker. He felt as if he was going to die very soon. They were dining at one of the most expensive restaurants in town; Kamui seemed to be a regular customer.
"Mr. Shirou.... the regular?" The waiter had asked when they had only just settled down. Kamui had nodded rudely, not even bothering to look at the man. His eyes were only on Fuuma.

"Umm...." There was awkward silence as he regarded the menu of French cuisine he had never known existed. Kamui seemed to notice his discomfort.
"Monou-san would like a steak with Bordelaise sauce. Also, a Château Poujeaux 1999, 'Moulis' to compliment." The waiter smirked as he saw the look on Fuuma's face.
"So it's a Soupe à L'Oignon, Poulet au Riesling, a Mousse au chocolat, a steak, Bordelaise sauce, a Château Poujeaux 1999 'Moulis'." Fuuma was confused. He started when Kamui turned to him.
"What soup would you like? Any desert?"

They left for home content and happy. At least Kamui was. Fuuma had found out that Kotori was out of the country visiting her childhood friend Nekoi in Egypt. It would be a month before she would be back. He was starting to find the younger man quite interesting, though he still felt out of place with around him. The man really was exquisite, with that perfect face and feline-like body. He silently wondered how his sister managed to hook up a guy like this and actually married him.

Fuuma let his eyes run over every detail of the shirt Kamui was wearing. It looked nice, scratch that, it looked FANTASTIC. It was as if the article of clothing was meant for Kamui and Kamui alone. The white silk material seemed to cling to his figure like liquid, so smooth and fluid. Fuuma couldn't believe this man was a rock star. He was more of Japan's top model.

Kamui watched Fuuma watch him. It was ironic actually. The two days they've been closely acquainted they've spent most of their time staring at each other.
"Brother-in-law, about moving in..." Kamui started, smiling to himself.
"Y-yes?" Fuuma had a slight rosy tinge to his cheeks. He was plain embarrassed.
"I was thinking maybe you can move in tomorrow. I don't have band practice or photo shoots scheduled anytime tomorrow, so I can help you pack. Kotori won't mind a bit." Kamui bent down a little, peering up with his most playful smirk.
"I believe she'll be quite happy."

Fuuma sighed as he watched the celebrity sit down. Those set of amethyst eyes moved over the whole apartment.
"Fuuma?"
"Yes?"
"Do you really live alone?" Kamui looked at the bleach white walls and gleaming marble floor. It was spotless. Fuuma smiled. Yes, it was spotless, but that was just because he couldn't afford to buy much.

Kamui entered the bed room, the entire place empty except for a bed, a wardrobe and a table. Then again, it was appropriate for such a man as Fuuma. Kamui dragged the empty suitcase behind him (Fuuma had said he didn't needed one so he never bought one), amazed at how clean the place was. It just didn't seem normal to him.

Fuuma stood against the door way, watching the beautiful man beside his bed, setting the suitcase on it. He flipped the suitcase open, moving over to the wardrobe he took the clothing off their hangers and started shoving them into the luggage. Fuuma almost choked.

"Kamui! That is NOT the way to pack clothes!"

They arrived after a twenty-minute drive, Fuuma was granted the permission to drive, probably because Kamui was quite tired from just sitting there and doing nothing (Actually he was so bored while he watched Fuuma scuttle about the place he fell asleep) Fuuma actually had to carry him into the lift and seat him comfortably inside the Porsche Carrera GT1. Fuuma had nearly died when he saw the car.

He parked the vehicle and just sat therefore a moment, watching the younger man. His face rested on his left shoulder, his right arm over the seat belt, his left lay beside him, his blouse lay unbuttoned, revealing part of his chest. His lashes were so thick and long...almost like a girl's. His skin was almost alabaster, his hair falling against the leather as if it was liquid; his features so pretty he almost seemed like a dream come true. Wait. Dream come true? That was just so wrong. No. Kamui Shirou, his brother-in-law was not a dream come true. He just looks too much like a girl.

Fuuma sighed and almost immediately the rock star stirred. His eyes fluttered open slowly, revealing amethyst pools, his lips folded into a thin line, trying to suppress the yawn. Fuuma then realised his face was only inches away from Kamui's.

Fuuma pulled away before Kamui noticed. He often wondered why Kamui treated him so well. Maybe it was....no, it couldn't be.

Kamui wasn't stupid. He knew his brother-in-law's face was just inches away from his. In fact, he had waked up in the middle of the drive back and had kept his eyes closed, stealing peeks at his wife's gorgeous brother when he wasn't looking. Groggily, he stepped out of the car, rubbing his eye, trying to act as 'just woke up' as possible.

Fuuma was amazed at how child-like a grown man could look. He fell in love with that angelic face of his brother-in-law. He looked so innocent, so pure. A chord of desire struck deep inside him, blood rushing to his face. Kamui was headed to the lifts, nodding to the security guard politely. Fuuma retrieved his poor excuse for belongings.

He entered the spacious hallway, holding his breath as his eyes travelled over the large space that was the living room. It was almost like a dream.

Kamui smirked as he watched Fuuma's expression when he stepped into the hall, leaning against the frame of the varnished oak door for a few seconds, letting Fuuma enjoy the space and luxury for a while.

"This way, Mr. Monou." Kamui moved past Fuuma with movements so graceful it was as if he were dancing, not even bothering to turn around to make sure the other man was following. Fuuma followed all right.

"Welcome to my humble abode, now yours as well. You have twenty minutes to put your belongings away before dinner."

Fuuma couldn't believe he was this lucky. He loved his sister more than ever now. Thanks to her, he met this wonderful man, who forced him against his pride to move into this wonderful apartment, to enjoy the wonders of life. He made a mental note to treat his sister to one of his better musical pieces.

Kamui headed out the door, feeling a sense of achievement. He had managed to get one step closer to that striking man that was his-brother-in-law. Wait, why was he doing this again? Oh yea, he didn't like him. He just pitied the poor man. Then why did he just call him striking? Kamui furrowed his brows as he headed for the kitchen, grabbing the apron that hung by the kitchen door.

Fuuma emerged from his sanctuary drawn by the smell of onions and tomato. He heard frying, and he couldn't believe what he saw through the semi- transparent panes of the kitchen door.

Kamui knew how to cook?