TITLE: Summer Thunder
AUTHOR: AbstractConcept (aka theconcept)
RATING: A Bit Dirty
WARNINGS: A Little Voyeurism
DISCLAIMER: Belongs to Rando Ayamine & Yuuya Aoki, Kodansha, Ltd. Publishers, TBS, Inc., etc.
SUMMARY: Ban likes a little bit of rain, a little bit of time to reflect, and a whole lot of Ginji.
Summer Thunder
Ban likes warm summer showers. He's never actually said so, because really, how girly does that sound, but he likes them all the same. He likes them in the early evening especially, when the streetlights are just beginning to flicker on, and there's nothing left to do but sit back in the 360 and listen to the soft patter on the hood. He likes it when steam rises from the summer streets, glistening like a sheen of sweat.
He likes the distant rumbles in the sky, and the low grey clouds, and the way the hiss of the rain and the muttering of thunder cover up all the everyday sounds, and press in on the car until it seems like their own little world, cozy and warm and safe. He especially likes how the rain chases everyone indoors, the dog-walkers, children in the parks, and the businessmen out for a drink or two, and he and Ginji can get a few moments of respite.
He likes how the damp, humid heat smells just like Ginji.
He likes the way Ginji smiles as he dozes, head slipping down on Ban's shoulder until Ban pokes him in the ribs or clonks him on the head. He likes being able to watch the clouds turn from steel to indigo as the sun sinks down. He likes how Ginji trembles a little in his sleep, shivering with excess electrical energy.
He likes running a thumb along Ginji's jaw, likes that no one can see his expression melt when Ginji sighs in contentment.
Most of all, he likes it when Ginji's eyes flutter open, looking up at Ban in surprise. He likes how dark they are in the fading light, and how they darken even further when Ban doesn't look away. He likes the way Ginji's lips twitch, and how his arms open wide, inviting Ban into his personal space, into his life, into his body.
It's always a contortionist act in the 360, but Ginji is limber and loose, and Ban is adaptable and persistent. They find a way.
He likes how Ginji's breath mingles with his, and fogs up the windows. He likes how the crack in the window that lets the smoke out also lets the rain in, droplets spattering on the back of his wrist, his hand braced on the door. He likes how Ginji gives, in that gregarious fashion that's so very typical of him. He likes tickling fingers through Ginji's hair, and over the nape of his neck. He likes how Ginji can never seem to decide where he wants to touch Ban, and so tries to touch him all over—fleeting caresses to Ban's face, Ban's chest, Ban's shoulder.
He loves the look of wonder on Ginji's face, like Ban is granting him something marvellous, like this moment is an unparalleled treasure, like Ban is something indescribably lovely and desirable. He can't imagine that look on anyone else's face. He isn't certain he wants to.
And of course he likes the great, rushing, crackling euphoria that thunders through him, and how Ginji's eyes shut tightly, his face flushed, and he groans Ban's name, like a storm that's been given a voice. He likes sharing that with Ginji, even though it would seem terrifyingly intimate with someone else.
He likes lying atop Ginji afterwards, sort of, all bent and resting awkwardly with one leg going numb and jammed under the seat, and Ginji's hands smoothing their way down his back. He likes that they are alone, free to expose themselves, free to whisper silly things that Ban would never in a million years say out loud, free to touch.
An odd, low laugh floats in from outside, and Ban's head snaps up in horror. "My, my, how very naughty of you. And right out where anyone could see."
Ginji yelps and tries to cover himself, and Ban struggles to resist the urge to put his fist right through the window and into Akabane's smiling face.
"What the hell are you doing here, Akabane?" he snarls. "Get away before I beat you to a bloody pulp!"
"Miss Hevn sent me to tell you she has a client waiting at the Honky Tonk," Akabane replies, unruffled. "And I do wish you wouldn't make promises you don't intend to keep."
"Get away," Ban growls, and Akabane saunters off, still laughing that creepy, gurgling chuckle.
Ginji is somehow wearing Ban's shirt, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Are you really angry, Ban-chan?" he asks in a worried voice.
Ban wonders why Ginji is worried, and whether Ginji thinks Ban is ashamed of him.
Ban labors to do up his pants, thinking it over. It could be worse. What's Akabane going to do, sell the story to the tabloids? Who cares what Ban and Ginji do to each other?
He ruffles Ginji's hair, saying, "Nah. Come on, give me my shirt, unless we're switching for the night."
Ginji grins, and suddenly everything is all right again, and Ban knows what will happen from there. When they get to the Honky Tonk, Ginji will still be wearing his shirt, and everyone will stare. Ban will play it cool in front of the client, smoking a cigarette impassively. The client probably won't have any money or they'll fuck things up so badly that the job won't even be worth it, and they'll end up right back in the 360 tomorrow night, stuck outside again.
It'll probably even rain again and, if he's lucky, Ban will be able to relax and enjoy the downpour.
Nothing ever changes much for the Get Backers…and Ban realizes that he kind of likes that, too.