Title: Tribulation Within
Pairing: Satoshi/Daisuke
Summary: (SatoshiDaisuke) A new play debuts, a steamy kiss ensues, love is snubbed, feelings are uncovered, Satoshi avoids confrontation, and Daisuke just can't wait to confess his love. Thus, the drama unfolds – all of it on stage, but not in the script.
See, I had to change the summary because Daisuke isn't going to forget his lines – he's just going to ignore them and make up his own proclamation of love. xD
Disclaimer: Still don't own. /mushroom sigh/ Don't own Phantom of the Opera either- t'was just a snippet of a mention.
Japanese Vocabulary
Kuso: shit
Chikushou: damn it
Che: damn
Jii-chan: grandpa
Ichigo: strawberry
Aishiteru: I love you.
The play is in italics.
Tamer-Angel conversations are in bolded italics.
Anything not pertaining to the play – like Dai and Sato veering completely off the script XD – is in normal mode.
Notice that I've tried to stray away from the word 'girl' as much as possible when referring to Daisuke whilst in detective Takagi's perspective; instead, I've tried to replace all 'girls' with 'thief'. Fear a flood of the word 'thief'.
Love Dark and his yaoi-ful matchmaking goodness. Also worship panicked!Krad and bow to his OOC-ness.
Eh… I know there was some confusion and controversy relating to Satoshi's OOC attitude during the play, but I just want to point out that everything Satoshi did in the italics was actually the scriptwriter's interpretation of how Takagi Heiji would deal with what's going on, not Satoshi himself, even if I used his name. If you can't deal with a shrieking Sato (hey, I probably can't either xD), then pretend that Sato's a bloody brilliant actor, or that a senpai who sounded like him prerecorded all happy yelling and insanity because oh-great-blue-haired-bishie refused to.
------
Last time: Satoshi's was abruptly pulled from his thoughts when a pair of soft lips pressed themselves against the skin of his neck.
Oh my GOD. Satoshi's head reeled back in shock as his mind began to process just what was going on. Is he kissing me?
------
Satoshi's body grew rigid and his entire face flushed a vibrant red that would put Daisuke himself to shame. Heat began to pool at the small patch of skin where Daisuke's lips had touched him, then flared out in every direction as those petal-soft touches began to migrate up.
Krad stirred drowsily, having awakened from the nap Satoshi had ordered he take. He blinked, and for a moment, his unguarded face bore the eyes of a slightly bemused human being. However, it was just for a split second, and his mind processed the fact that Daisuke's lips were all over his property. His brilliant topazes widened lividly at the scene displayed before him and he bared his teeth in a hiss, making him look even more feline-like than usual. Surprisingly, his first words were not along the lines of 'Let me at him!' or 'I'll kill that stupid Niwa!' Rather, the first words that left his mouth were…
SEXUAL PREDATOR! Krad gasped loudly, prancing around Satoshi's head fretfully. Nooooo, Satoshi-sama! RunrunrunrunRUN! Call the police!
Satoshi didn't even bother to point out the fact that he was the police. In fact, he thought it better to just…pretend Krad wasn't there.
In fact, it was a pretty effortless feat, seeing that Satoshi had a rather active Daisuke hovering above him doing less than innocent things to his neck. Krad was the last thing on his mind when a gust of hot breath rippled over his jaw, and the shadows of Daisuke's slowly moving head were cast over his range of vision. He stifled an involuntary titter when a curtain of surprisingly soft and ticklish onyx hair fell over his face, and it was almost abruptly followed by a soft gasp when tendrils of breath rolled over the flushed skin of his ear. "Doesn't this prove my love for you?" Daisuke murmured lovingly, and he lightly kissed the shell of Satoshi's ear.
Satoshi's eyes widened madly and he half-growled. It was only half a growl because the other half was a low groan. "S-stop it. Get o…off me!" His own thoughts and insecurities mingled with his given lines, and he tried to push Daisuke off him. He cursed the stutter that had broken through his usually calm composure, but had no time to brood over this when a gentle nip to his earlobe set the nerves in that hearing appendage on fire.
"Stop pretending for once," Daisuke suggested. Satoshi suspected these words had nothing to do with the play, for Daisuke had said them in a whisper. Apparently, he had decided to forsake the play for the time being; he hadn't said his line yet, his microphone was angled to his eyebrow, and he didn't seem too intent on stopping his molestation – eh…ministrations. "Indulge."
Satoshi didn't understand. He struggled with the proposal to 'indulge,' along with the insistent pair of lips connected to Daisuke's cross-dressed body. Just what the hell was going on? Sure, the idiot above him would eat half-poisoned food for sake of another's cooking/housewife confidence, but would he go this far to make Satoshi feel loved?
Satoshi didn't understand, and he was confused. Insert a little angry face – a closed arrow, an equal sign, and an open bracket – into that sentence, and that was Satoshi.
The blunette squirmed uncomfortably. Daisuke's lips soon found a patch of reddened skin and inhaled the area sharply, vibrations escaping his throat as he hummed thickly. He had dreamed of this for a long time, but he knew with a broken heart that the pleasure and love of this moment was not true. It was not real love that was fueling Daisuke forward; his actions were watered down with guilt and pity.
"What are you doing?" Satoshi roared, patience wearing thin. "Get off me right now." His microphone let out an unpleasant shriek in response to his volume and half the audience jumped. He lifted his stationary arms and tried to push Daisuke off him. He scrabbled at his chest and neck, his attempts horribly futile, until the redhead's skilled fingers grasped his slender wrists in a vice grip. The little thief forced his arms back to the floor, pinning them down to his sides without even looking up from Satoshi's neck. His knees even managed to maintain their balance, and he stayed anchored to his position despite Satoshi's bodily thrashing.
"Don't fight," Daisuke cooed into Satoshi's neck. He slowly poked his tongue out from between two pink lips and shyly ran it along a bluish vein that was vaguely visible through the blunette's flesh. "Please don't," he half-whimpered, his innocently pleading tone almost melting Satoshi into a flustered pile of sexy goop.
But almost was the key word, and Satoshi continued to thrash around like a fish out of water that was being straddled and molested by another fish. "No," he stated firmly, glaring at the head clad in artificial hair that was practically connected to his neck. "Stop it."
Daisuke, ever the stubborn one, ignored him and pressed his form to Satoshi's. He sighed, eyes closing sensually, and began to rock his head back and forth, opening and closing his mouth rhythmically. His soft, full lips rubbed against Satoshi's skin, tongue dancing shyly against the pale flesh encircled by his mouth, and every breath that escaped his throat was low and slightly ragged.
Satoshi released a throaty moan, eyes fluttering blissfully as petal-soft kisses were rained across the length of his neck. He didn't mean to enjoy this faux display of love and affection, but to be frank, his body knew he wanted this. It was just too hard to resist Daisuke's touch; dreams and fantasies of the redhead had forced him to grow dependant on bodily contact. His breath hitched and he gasped loudly as the boy above him sucked hungrily on the skin to the left of his Adams apple. He could do nothing to stop him, and felt horrible shame for the fact that he didn't really want to.
Suddenly, the ringing of a cell phone sounded through the air, making Daisuke freeze in place. Satoshi's heart began to slow down in relief, and he heaved out a tremendous sigh. Any longer under Daisuke's ministrations, and he probably would have flipped them over and ravished him on the spot. The little thief whimpered sadly to himself, disappointed in the fact that his fun had been cut short, and reluctantly crawled off Satoshi. He slipped his hand into the front pocket of Satoshi's pants – his fingers maybe a trifle to close to a certain area for Satoshi's comfort – and pulled out the ringing phone. He shot the blunette one last searing stare – eyes alight with zeal – and wordlessly mouthed the words 'I love you' before falling back into character.
Daisuke scrambled off Satoshi's form in surprise with the detective's phone in his hand, the light just above the camera lens blinking several colors in time with the beat of the ring. He pressed his heel-clad foot against the fallen one's chest, keeping him pinned to the floor, and flipped the phone open disinterestedly. "What?" he barked. Hey, he was pissed. You try getting 'in touch' with the newest shiny object of your affections, only to be interrupted by his stupid phone. It was a very pissable situation.
Like all other phone conversations, a senpai was backstage, projecting her voice through a handheld microphone.
"Hey, Takagi-san, what are you still doing in the museum? The surveillance cameras are still short-circuited, but Kazuru called me on his way out saying that he saw lights on the crime floor. All my guards have punched out, except for the ones still on duty, and they're here with me, so the only possibility left is you. I know you're insane and all, but stop working and get out of my museum."
Daisuke inwardly rolled his eyes at the woman on the other side of the phone line. "I'm sorry," he replied, voice impossibly cheerful, "but Heiji-san is a little busy at the moment. Bitch later. Ja!" He snapped the phone shut, ending the conversation abruptly.
"Who was that?" Satoshi demanded, struggling in vain against the boot pressed to his torso. "How do you know my name?"
Daisuke shot Satoshi a Cheshire cat grin, removing his foot from the silver-haired teen's upper body and dropping to the floor beside him in a split second, giving him no chance to escape his clutches. "Just as I know how to outsmart your town's stupid police forces, I know your name. Don't find it surprising."
Satoshi felt something cold press against his wrist as Daisuke dropped his phone back into his pocket. He couldn't turn to look at whatever it was touching him, for the thief's face was right in front of his, nose-to-nose, but he just assumed it was an upturned rope stand, or the ground or something. He turned away from the onyx-haired other, a blush blossoming on the shells of his ears at the close proximity, just as Daisuke concluded his speech.
"Don't find it surprising, dear Tantei-kun, that the next time we meet, I will finish what I started here."
Satoshi stared in shock – and maybe a little eagerness – at Daisuke. Sure, the redhead was an acceptable actor, but the tone of voice he had just used proved that he wholeheartedly planned to do what his character had promised. This scared – and maybe even excited – Satoshi. …Oh dear. More molestation to come, eh? Ah well; Satoshi wasn't complaining much. x)
The next thing Satoshi saw before he hurriedly shut his eyes was a flurry of wine-red. Wind whipped around his head and soft objects blew into his face, taking a dip and swimming laps in his hair. After the tornado of zephyrs had died down, he cracked one cerulean eye open, grateful for the protection his glasses gave him, and saw that he was all alone. Yami no Dorobou had fled once more.
Satoshi sighed loudly to himself, heaving out a defeated groan. "Why me?" he snapped at the darkness, slamming one palm down into his lap from its position on the ground. "Am I that drop dead sexy?"
"Ahhhhhh! Hiwatari-kun-san-sama! Yes you are! AAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEE!"
Satoshi resisted the urge to sit up and throw a stage prop at his fan club.
His fisted hand felt several soft things amidst the fabric of his pants, and he groped at them blindly. Not bothering to attempt getting up, he merely held his arm up before his eyes and uncurled his fingers. A shower of claret rose petals rained upon his face, sliding down his cheeks and neck. That explained the flurry of wine-red he had witnessed before closing his eyes…
Sighing again at his failure in catching Yami no Dorobou when the thief was right in front of him, he lifted both hands, preparing to cup his face in a cliché brooding manner. His left hand got there okay, but his right hand…
"…the hell?"
His right hand had gone up several inches, only to stop in midair. Something was stopping him from moving his hand. He sat up, leant against a nearby display case right in the middle of the room, and looked down. Something shiny and silver glittered up at him, mocking him from its location curled around his wrist.
He was friggin' handcuffed to an upturned rope stand. - 1 -
Satoshi growled to himself, glaring up at the sky. "Why me?" he repeated again, daring the ceiling to answer him. "Why is it flippin' me?" His free hand ventured over to his pocket for a key when he realized…
He didn't have the key.
He had been given the handcuffs by an officer on duty. The officer had never given him the keys. Perhaps he had thought that Satoshi was far too intelligent to end up handcuffing himself to something.
The officer was wrong. Ha ha, stupid cop. Satoshi did end up handcuffed to something. Hahahahaha… Wait, it wasn't a laughing matter. No, it really wasn't. In fact, it really sucked.
"Kuso!" Satoshi cursed loudly. His voice echoed throughout the exhibit and returned back to him, as though the art and walls agreed with his opinion in this situation. "Kuso kuso kuso!" He jangled his arm, making the heavy rope stand roll an inch, then stop. He tried lifting his arm, even using his left hand to pull it up, but the only good that did was make the silver cuff dig painfully into his flesh from the weight of the stand.
"Chikushou!" Satoshi swore again before leaning against the display case limply. He mumbled something incoherently under his breath, slowly exhaling to calm his nerves. He had to get these handcuffs off somehow, and he would! He just needed to placate himself. Breathe. Breathe.
It was no use. He was the detective, not the thief. He couldn't untie a knot for his life, let alone unlock a pair of handcuffs. Satoshi glared at the cuffs hotly, using his untapped magical powers to open—
Bah. It was still no use. This wasn't a manga. It was just his effed up life.
Satoshi jangled his arm once more – knowing anything else would result in being futile anyway – before delving into his pocket with his left hand for his cell phone. He muttered a half-hearted "Che," glaring into the dark void presented before him, before trying to remember the number Hitomi-san, the director of the museum, had given him.
…But had she even given him one?
"CHE! KUSO-KUSO-CHIKUSHOU-CHE-CHE!"
No, she hadn't.
"CHIKUSHOU-KUSO-CHE-KUSO---!" - 2 -
He would have continued, had the two scarce sources of light in front and in back of him had not switched off. Only lonely, crazy people swore in the dark.
He was neither. His life was just seriously effed up.
------
The curtains closed and Satoshi breathed in, slowly releasing the air he had inhaled after about five seconds of holding it in. Yelling out swear words really tired one out, especially when one really meant them.
All the while he had cursed, he was thinking about Daisuke. Just what had happened back there, in front of all those people? Just. What. The. Hell.
Satoshi was beyond confused, even more confused than he had been in the middle of the moment. Now he had time to think about what was going on – but didn't even know what the bloody hell was going on.
Perhaps Daisuke was high.
But high off what?
Love?
Bah. Hippie junk.
Satoshi was cranky, because apparently, a confused Satoshi was a cranky one. Coincidentally, a confused Satoshi also happened to mutate into an 'arg-I'm-gonna-find-out-all-your-secrets-and-the-real-reason-why-you-molested-me-comma-Daisuke-exclamation-point' Satoshi.
This transfigured Satoshi would fulfill the promises of his name; this he promised himself. Even if he had to play at Daisuke's own little twisted game, he would get some answers ––
"Hiwatari!" Ika hissed from the side of the stage. Behind her was Daisuke, looking perfectly innocent, as though he hadn't been doing semi-sexual things with Satoshi just a few minutes ago. "What are you, brain dead? Get off your back (You're ruining the shirt!) and get into your next spot!"
Satoshi sluggishly obeyed the director's orders, hauling his back off the cardboard box that had played the part of the display case. "Hai, hai- wait."
"Pscht, like the show would wait for you – oh my gawd, the show must wait for you! Your tie is loose!" Ika gasped, as though a loose tie were the worst thing in the world. Well, it was to her anyway, but who really cared? "Lemme fix it for you!" she quickly shuffled to Satoshi's aid as several stagehands began to fix up the set for the next scene. Pressing the thumb and index finger of her left hand to the little knot in between his collar, Ika used her right hand to tug on the tongue of the tie, tightening it. "Perfect, Hiwatari. We can't have you looking like a slob on stage! Hoy…wait a minute!" She stared intently at his neck, causing Satoshi to grow self-conscious at the red blush that was still staining his ears and neck. "What's wrong with your neck?"
"What do you mean?" Satoshi questioned carefully, feigning obliviousness at the fact that he was still the color of a faded tomato.
"What do you mean what do I mean?" Ika shoved a hand into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a circular compact mirror. Flipping it open with the use of only one acrylic-nailed thumb like the compact-mirror-opening-genius-girl she was, she shoved it at his neck. The mirror at the bottom reflected the image onto the one on the top, and what Satoshi saw in the reflecting glass was quite a surprise.
Contrasting against the pale expanse of his pallid neck was a patch of mottled pink skin that kind of popped out at you yelling, "Look at me, look at me – I'm on Satoshi's neck! Use that as a reason to stare at him like meat, bwuhahaha." It was quite large, and shined in the artificial lighting of the stage as though it were moist – which it pretty much was, thanks to the wonders of saliva. It was pinkish, its hue almost bordering a light shade of red, and looked completely out of place on his pastel skin.
To sum it all up, it was a hickey.
Satoshi stared transfixed at said hickey, eyes enlarging drastically at the seemingly little mark that was branded on his flesh. His eyes quickly flitted to the side where Daisuke was staring at him intently with an unreadable emotion beating in his eyes (which sure was something, considering that he was pretty much an open book most of the time). Once deep garnet met icy azure, the set of ruby eyes resumed their warm facets, and inches below curled an affectionate smile.
Satoshi resisted the urge to throw Daisuke an 'I'm-gonna-kill-you-right-now' glare in response to the innocent little grin, instead settling for a 'you-just-wait-'til-we-get-outside-and-I-get-my-police-gun' glower. There's a difference, see?
Daisuke merely beamed his brightest and waved innocently at the blunette, waggling his fingers with a teasing air.
"Hey, hey, Hiwatari, pay attention to me!" Ika interrupted the wordless glare-smile conversation between Satoshi and Daisuke, poking the commander on the chest. "What is that? Are you sick? I didn't see it earlier…" She held her chin contemplatively, studying at the hickey. "Don't tell me…"
"It's nothing," Satoshi cut in, disrupting her train of dialogue. "It's just a rash." He tugged the tops of his folded collar a bit higher, though that didn't do a very good job at concealing the blemish.
"It doesn't look like a-"
"Don't," Satoshi ordered coldly, making Ika, the slightly taller and considerably older of the two of them, stop, "question me. It's a rash. Period."
Ika glanced at him warily, rather spooked by his callous tone. "You forget that I am your senpai!"
Dramatic music rang through the air, making the entire place sound as though it were in a scene from the Phantom of the Opera. "You forget," Satoshi pointed out, staring disinterestedly at his cuticles, "that we are in the middle of your play."
Ika squeaked and slapped a hand over her own mouth. "Meep." The incredibly strange director skipped off the stage, the flare of her jeans and the heel of her tennis shoes just barely escaping the sight of the audience. The lights above the stage flickered to life, and a squeaking noise filled the air.
Swish, swish, swish.
The curtains had begun opening once again. Action.
------
Satoshi was in an almost-killing frenzy the morning after his confrontation with Yami no Dorobou. Sure, he was frustrated at the thief for touching him inappropriately, for cuffing him immobile in the middle of an empty museum, and for putting him through the humiliation of being found several hours later (asleep) by a guard who just so happened to be walking by, but that wasn't the reason to why he was currently raving.
"Takagi, Takagi, calm down!" Katou wheedled pathetically, placing a palm over his friend's shoulder in a fruitless attempt to placate him.
"No!" Satoshi grabbed the closest, breakable thing – which just so happened to be a lamp – and hurled it at the floor, pulling its plugged cord from the wall and causing the ceramic light-bearer to shatter into a million pieces on contact. "Why should I?" He eyed the jagged white bits of the ruined lamp angrily.
"What is your problem?" Katou demanded, grabbing both of Satoshi's soldiers in his grasp. He stared him in the eye, searching for any trace or clue of his odd behavior. All he saw was anger and fear and more anger, and there was no more fear; he was hysteric with rage.
"What's my problem?" Satoshi repeated sardonically. "This!" His hand automatically flew to his pocket, and for a second, Katou thought he was going to shoot him. The brunette had even reeled back a couple inches and pulled his arms up to his face in protection. But apparently, Satoshi had no 'kill Katou' ideas of the sort in mind, for instead of a pistol, his fingers extracted a worn leather wallet – a wallet that was then promptly, and rather violently, thrown at Katou's face.
The brown-haired teen ducked out of reflex and caught the falling wallet before it hit the ground. Katou grinned cheekily, examining the wallet with disinterest. "What? Some street kid steal your yen?" He flipped it open and was greeted by the glossy visage of a student ID. His face fell and he glanced somberly up at Satoshi's face. "Eh… You okay?"
"The hell I'm not!" Satoshi snapped, stomping on the shattered lamp pieces to express his aggravation. "She took it…Katou." He said his friend's name in a slight whisper, his shaking frame wilting with gloom and slumping forward over his desk with his palms holding him up. Then, in a more subdued tone, he murmured: "She took the last three pictures I had left…"
Katou folded the leather wallet back up, pressing Velcro hooks against Velcro loops to fasten it shut. His eyes were downcast, mourning for and pitying his unstable friend. He knew that the three pictures (which were never taken out of the wallet and were always in front of the student ID) were all Satoshi had left of his family, for everything else had been burnt to ashes the day of their deaths. To have them taken away from him…it was just… The brunette shuddered.
Long, slim digits twitched from their position atop the surface of the desk. Satoshi hunched over the wooden structure, glaring at the files the pads of his fingers were resting over. Yami no Dorobou this; Yami no Dorobou that. Even the pixelly image of her grayscale-hued face was scattered everywhere on his desk. It was as if she were mocking him through no fault of her own. But she was still mocking him…somehow! He seethed silently, unconsciously crumpling a file on her first steal in his now fisted hand.
"I have to get those pictures back!" Satoshi declared aloud, lobbing the creased file all the way to the other side of the room. "I'll confront Yami no Dorobou, I'll get them back, and I'll arrest that stupid thief once and for all." He tugged angrily on his tie and sent one last glare toward the files littering his desk before sweeping out of his office, leaving Katou alone with his wallet in his hands.
Katou shook his head dejectedly, walking over to Satoshi's abandoned desk and reverently placing the wallet back onto its surface. His eyes scanned the scattered wreck of files with a neutral expression before pupils centered within hazel irises stopped at a small slip of paper.
The teen grasped the slip of paper slowly, rubbing his thumb in circles over its telltale face. The not-finger made a slight crinkling sound as it chafed over the left side of the card, where a flat reddish object had been glued on. A pressed rose. A pressed rose shaped like a heart.
Katou slammed his palm onto the desk, bringing the slip of paper down with him. He moodily shoved both hands into his pockets, not sparing any part of the room other than the door another glance. He emulated his best friend's prior action and exited the office, slamming wood onto threshold as he did so.
Atop the desk, the little slip of paper curled innocently as a breeze blew through the room. Documents ruffled in response to the draft, but the numerous paperweights decorating the desk did their job, anchoring the manuscripts in place.
The little slip of paper curled more violently until it flipped completely over – again and again – until it reached the edge of the desk and teetered perilously like a person would when confronted by the thousand-foot drop of a steep cliff. And then it simply fell.
Whoosh.
The wind pushed it out a window, somewhere unknown to man, taking its message away from the depressed décor of the depressed PI's office. But the message could never be taken away from the investigator's mind. The note had been forcefully burnt into his already dreary memory, perhaps scarring him once more in the span of three years.
Took them.
– Love, Yami no Dorobou
The photos were gone, the victim was vengeful, the thief was mocking, and this was only the beginning.
------
"Come out, Yami no Dorobou! I know you're hiding here somewhere!" Satoshi stalked around the exhibit with the utmost stealth, prowling about like a faceless shadow and studying every possible crevice as though it were housing the thief he was searching for.
The official investigation had finished only several minutes ago, and Satoshi had automatically tried to look into his wallet, only to remember that there was no picture to look at. He had exploded (silently, of course, as not to alarm the police officers trickling out the doors) and immediately gone into 'rancorous detective' mode.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he chanted evenly, willing to play the thief's game in order to get his photos back.
There was only silence.
Satoshi finally collapsed onto a bench beside the lavatory, holding his watch out before him. "It's been half an hour." He sighed and shook his head, letting his arm go limp against the cap of his knee. "She's not coming." He slumped over miserably, silver bangs creating silky curtains over his eyes. A shadow was soon drawn over the left side of his face, enshrouding the corresponding side in darkness. A silent minute ticked by, and then, the lights simply extinguished.
This went on for another week or two. Satoshi would stay after every investigation and hold a bitter vigil for the thief, only to come up empty-handed.
Since each scene showing Satoshi's failed searches were much too short to be actual scenes, the lights simply dimmed down then flared back to life, giving off the impression that many days were passing as Satoshi searched. In fact, a handy little play trick he was taught was to turn his back to the audience to turn the audience's attention away from him and to the fleeting days.
"I know you're here!"
Nothing. A day passed.
"Come out right now."
Nothing. Half a week passed.
"I want to talk to you, so come out and face me like a man!"
Wait… She wasn't a man. Oh well – nothing anyway. Two weeks passed.
Satoshi sighed and slumped limply against the wall of the museum exhibit he was currently in. Letting the force of gravity take its toll, he slid down the cool plaster and reached the equally cool floor in a matter of seconds. The silver-haired youth spread his legs out before him, staring past his leather dress shoes as though they weren't there. Another sigh escaped his lips.
"Where are you, Yami no Dorobou?" he asked air. "I just want to talk…" His voice was weary and jaded- as though he had lost all hope of confronting the thief. "Please…?" He stared up at the vast ceiling above his head, only seeing a dark blackness that held no light. There was a movement somewhere beside him, and the sound of cloth against cloth was temporary in the air. He paid this no attention, for there was a breeze running through the museum and he was seated beside a window with great, willowy curtains.
"I should just give up," Satoshi resolved aloud, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He sighed once more and pulled his legs to his chest, crossing his left ankle over his right and wrapping his arms around his knees. "I should, shouldn't I?"
"No, you shouldn't."
Satoshi jumped at the sudden voice, not expecting to be answered – by the person he was trying to call, of all people. He turned his head to face the speaker and was greeted by sparkling twin rubies and a gentle smile upon pink lips. "Y-you!" he stuttered out, scrambling off the floor and managing to trip over his crossed ankles. He righted himself and stood with bated breath before Yami no Dorobou, glaring at the thief angrily, all prior jaded thoughts banished from his mind.
"The one and only." Daisuke was right beside the spot Satoshi had just been seated in, sitting on his knees with his calves below him. His palms rested calmly against each other, fingers intertwined, and his connected hands lay comfortably against his exposed thighs. His face was cool and composed, save the amused grin curling on his lips. "Though you shouldn't talk to yourself like that. It's not healthy." The grin grew with laughter, pleased with the joke it had just expelled.
"Don't eff with me, Dorobou! Why didn't you come when I called for you all those other times?" Satoshi demanded.
"Ah-ah-ah," Daisuke teased, waggling a gloved index finger at Satoshi. "Dorobou-kun," he corrected.
"Dorobou." Satoshi repeated stubbornly.
"Dorobou-kun," Daisuke said insistently, curling his fists together.
"Dorobou."
"Dorobou-KUN."
"Dorobou…kun," Satoshi sighed, shoulders wilting in defeat.
"Lovely," Daisuke commented, folding his hands within his lap once again.
"Now answer my question, Dorobou-kun." Satoshi crossed his arms and repeated his aforementioned said question.
Daisuke shrugged and pulled a rose from one of the folds of his skirt. "You were ordering me around. I don't like that." He shook his head disapprovingly. "This time you asked nicely. I liked that."
Satoshi stared at the sitting thief incredulously. "Are you serious?"
"Do I look it?"
"I had tried and failed to get a hold of you for two straight weeks, and all I had to do was ask you nicely?"
"That's what I'm saying."
Satoshi rolled his eyes. "You have the incompetent mind of a five-year-old," he decided.
"I don't like that," Daisuke fired back, sticking his tongue out at Satoshi as the detective glared at him. The dark-haired one grinned mockingly, emulating his adversary's arm movements and crossing them resolutely.
Satoshi growled impatiently, dropping his arms limply to his sides. "No messing around this time." He stalked forward, lightly pigmented bangs blowing out of his eyes, and stopped right before the thief's gleaming boots. He glowered. "Give me back my pictures." He held out his hand expectantly, glaring into those expressive garnet eyes.
"I like them." Daisuke glanced at his glove-covered nails nonchalantly. "I'm thinking about keeping them."
Satoshi's eyes widened, horror splashed on every beautiful inch of his face. "No, you can't. You can't do that!"
Daisuke smirked. "Can and will."
"No." Satoshi glared at the mocking sneer that graced the thief's pretty face, though it quickly disappeared as he tried to regain his composure. "I suggest that you don't." He slipped his hands into his pockets in a seemingly idle manner.
"I take suggestions lightly," Daisuke informed him, standing just as calmly and running his fingers and palms down the gray ruffles of his skirt to smoothen the fabric out. His offered the detective a pleasant smile, as though they were old friends sharing an elusive banter and not sworn adversaries discussing stolen possessions.
"And once again, I suggest that you don't," Satoshi repeated. He released one hand from the warm confines of his pocket and tipped the brim of his hat over his left eye, hiding the furrow of his brow and the dimming patience that surely showed on his face.
Daisuke merely laughed, throwing his head back in mirth. "Well this is going nowhere fast, isn't it?"
Satoshi nodded his affirmation and shot Daisuke a penetrating look. "We ought to end it." He held his hand out again, this time right under the ebony-haired one's nose. "Give me my pictures," he demanded.
Daisuke grinned cheerfully and shook his head. He swiftly glanced down at the long, slim fingers presented before him and another very out of super cute and innocent Daisuke character thought burst into his mind: Bite sexy Hiwatari-kun.
You go, girl, Dark commented blandly, studying his nails nonchalantly whilst ignoring Daisuke's sputtered protests against the 'girl' remark.
Daisuke let a quite-too-enthusiastic smile break onto his face and glanced up at Satoshi's eyes for a split second. He stood on the toes of his boots to add to his height, and the, without warning, he rocked forward and grasped those perfect digits in a gentle hold. With raised lips and bared canines, he softly bit down and shortly ran his tongue along warm fingertips. Then he released the surprised Satoshi's flesh from his mouth and smiled at the large, gaping hole that in reality was the commander's slack-jawed mouth.
Now what was all the fuss? It was hardly anything. It was barely even a bite. It was more like a love nip, really. With much, much love. x)
Satoshi quickly hid the stunned expression that had shown so clearly on his face and drew back his arm. A shocked – albeit satisfied – smile was attempting to take his lips hostage, and the fact that a sheet of pink blush had already begun to roll over the back of his neck wasn't helping much. He pushed away the unsettling feelings of pleasure and approval that racked his mind even after Daisuke had pulled away and realized that he rather liked the hot feeling of Daisuke's lips and tongue pressed to his skin.
But what did this mean? Satoshi believed he was receiving mixed messaged. A week ago, Daisuke had run away from him. Now, he was all but raping him.
Poor Satoshi was confused. It wasn't the cranky kind of confusion like last time – it was confused confusion, the normal people kind. Consequently, the blunette responded to this lack of comprehension by doing as great men and women of his time did when faced by this vicious enemy: he ignored it. Although he wasn't the biggest fan of Fate, he believed in the concept of it and decided that only time and fate would bring about understanding.
Satoshi placed both hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow. "I said, 'Give me my pictures,' not 'Give me rabies.'" Ah, the wonders of improvising. "Now give me my pictures," he repeated, in order to restore peace to the play, as though there was no interruption that consisted of biting.
"I don't think so," Daisuke sang, as though he were an older brother holding a piece of candy out of a younger sibling's reach.
Satoshi tugged at his tie, a bad sign; his patience was waning. "You will give me my pictures now," he dictated, staring into Daisuke's wide, red eyes sternly. "You will then turn around and allow me to cuff you. You will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, and you will go to jail. You will sit in jail, and you will be happy." He ran the pads of his fingers along the length of his silky garnet tie and pulled out a pair or handcuffs. This time, he had a key in his pocket – just in case.
Daisuke crossed his arms and shook his head defiantly, though his large, innocent eyes made him look more like a naughty child than a defiant thief. "No. I will not." He only had one second to blink before an airborne Satoshi pounced out at him. Luckily, the skilled bandit had fast, agile reflexes, and he fluently dodged the tackle by crouching down and performing a rather flashy front flip over the detective's form. Somehow, he managed to keep his skirt pressed firmly to his thighs so as to not expose anything…private.
The audience gasped in surprise at Daisuke's feat. That was, like, five flippin' feet in the air, man! Crazy as hell!
"Oooooh, that's my Dai-chan!" Emiko gushed from somewhere in the middle-back of the throng of spectators.
Daisuke landed soundly several feet behind Satoshi's turned back and resumed his haughty stance. "Nice try. But I'm obviously better."
Satoshi turned and glared. "Maybe physically. But not mind-wise." He took several unnoticeable steps forward.
"Excuse me?" Daisuke arched an eyebrow. "Are you calling me stupid?"
"That, and the fact that I believe you also have a short attention span and focus primarily on the biggest ideas in a room when you ought to be focusing on the small details that could hurt you."
"Small details?" Daisuke let out a derisive snort of laughter. "And what might those small details be?"
"My being…this close to you." Those several inconspicuous steps, added to several more inconspicuous steps, had eventually brought Satoshi a little less than a foot away from Daisuke. "And taking into account that you do tend to 'focus primarily on the biggest ideas in a room,' which just so happens to be my talking, you wouldn't have noticed my arm reaching up to capture your wrist in my grasp." The silver-haired teen did as he said, catching the thief's wrist between his curled fingers before the raven-haired one could even react.
"Hm." Daisuke looked unimpressed. "Wit goes a long way." He smirked. "But according to your deductions, it's lucky for me that force goes the rest." He tried to pull his arm back, only to feel the hold on his wrist tighten almost painfully.
"In this case, I'm afraid it doesn't." It was Satoshi's turn to smirk. He pulled raised the pair of handcuffs and soundly ensnared the ebony-haired one's wrist within its hold, tightening it so that the gloved hand couldn't escape.
Daisuke's eyes widened, but he quickly hid this with a smirk of his own. "Then I guess I'll have to use wit." In a flash, his free hand grabbed the dangling half of the cuffs, wrapped it around Satoshi's wrist – the one closest to his own immobile hand – and secured it tightly. "Now who 'focuses primarily on the biggest idea in a room'?" he mocked, throwing the detectives words back at him.
Satoshi gasped in surprise when the cold metal constricted around his wrist and released his hold on Daisuke. He glanced in between their connected hands and gave a noncommittal shrug. "All the better for me. We're cuffed to each other; now you can't escape. All I have to do is walk into the police station and bring you in, and you can't do anything about it."
Daisuke's eyes widened in apprehension; he had realized how stupid of a decision it was to cuff himself to the enemy. "Lemme go," he ordered.
"No." It was Satoshi turn to mock the ever-so-taunting thief. He smirked lightly at the shorter one's distress and shook his head. "I don't think I will."
"Let me go," Daisuke insisted. His eyes were narrowed in anger, though anxiety and fear sparkled significantly within their blood red depths.
"You're the one who cuffed me to you," Satoshi pointed out blandly.
"Well you own the handcuffs. You must have a key. Let me go."
"No," was the simple reply, accompanied by a satisfied smirk.
"Let. Me. Go," Daisuke ground out lowly, a dangerous scowl forming on his lips. He glared up at the victorious detective, balling his raised and cuffed hand into an angered fist.
Satoshi let out a humorless chuckle. "Not until I've gotten a good look at you." He pulled his arm to himself, causing the usually balanced thief to stumble forward. He gazed closely into pulsing claret eyes, noting the way scruffy onyx bangs sprang out over a pale forehead and the curve of smooth-looking cheeks. He had no idea why he was enthralled by the bandit.
Three years ago, he had promised himself to stay true to the girl his parents had chosen to marry him, whether she was dead or not.
Why was he studying the thief in front of him with such intensity? Why was his heart beating so erratically?
Satoshi hated the thief. The thief had stolen from him something more precious than a trio of family pictures.
Unwittingly, the thief had stolen his guarded heart. It was impossible, it was cliché, it was strange – it was love at first sight.
Satoshi shook his head in denial. No, it wasn't right. He couldn't just forsake his fidelity to a dead girl as though the girl weren't alive! …But she wasn't alive. …Could he forsake his fidelity?
"You don't look like a notorious thief…" the detective murmured, more to himself than to the bandit before him.
"Maybe I'm not," Daisuke supplied nervously. "Maybe you've gotten the wrong person?"
Satoshi let a bark of laughter escape his lips. "Nice try, Dorobou-kun."
"Humph." Daisuke pouted and would have crossed his arms had Satoshi not been connected to one of them.
"Now it's time for prison," Satoshi said calmly, as though he were referring to a mundane trip to the park and not a freedom-less jail cell reserved just for the thief.
Daisuke grabbed Satoshi by the shoulders, the panic evident in his eyes. "No, don't make me go!"
Satoshi laughed yet again. "You're a criminal." He pushed the offending hands off his form and tugged lightly on them. "You need to go to jail." His voice hardened and the smile that had momentarily graced his face was gone. "You deserve it." The laughter had left his tone and all that was left was a somber, business-like tenor in his voice.
Daisuke glanced helplessly between his captured hands and Satoshi's stern face. "…But I dun' wanna," he mewled pathetically, a grumpy frown fixing itself upon his face. "Please let me go." He pressed himself closer to the detective, shaking his wrists out of the other's grasp.
"No." Satoshi blanched at their close proximity.
"Please?"
"No." Now, more firmly it came. "Now to jail you go."
Daisuke hung his head and wilted sadly.
"Humph." Satoshi led Daisuke by the cuff to the door. "As if you didn't see it coming."
"I didn't. I wasn't planning to be caught," Daisuke stated matter-of-factly.
"I'll bet," Satoshi replied sarcastically. He walked a couple steps before stopping, making Daisuke crash into his back. "But…" His tone grew somber once more. "Just tell me one thing, Dorobou-kun." He turned and faced the shorter one, a serious expression on his face. "Why me? Why not some other schmoe off the street? And most important of all, why did you take those pictures? They were all I had left of them!" His voice had faded into a whisper.
Daisuke thought for a moment before taking a step forward, pressing his face to Satoshi's so that they were nose-to-nose. "Tantei-kun, do you want to know why I steal?" He continued on in a whisper without letting the hoary-haired one respond. "It's because I can't have the things I steal. And believe me, I want the things I steal."
"What is this?" Satoshi snarled, his volume rising only slightly. "Why the hell did you take those pictures? Did you want those pictures that badly?"
Daisuke glared daggers at his blue-haired friend, using his role as contemptuous thief to convey all his feelings of loathing for Satoshi. His frown only grew when his daggers were calmly caught by cool, nonchalant sapphires and indifferently regarded. Apparently, Daisuke's messages were being ignored; either that, or the Hikari was being a big fat IDIOT. Daisuke wasn't quite ready to rule out either option, feeling his detest for Satoshi grow.
Damn it all.
He couldn't concentrate one bit. Not when the mislead love of his life was quite intent on ignoring him; not when said love of said life was constantly drilling holes into his face without knowing how hot and flustered they caused Daisuke to grow under the collar (even though his top had no collar). He had fumbled his lines at least three times under that penetrating gaze, and it was really starting to piss him off. He found himself hating Satoshi even more.
Ah, young love, Dark sighed pensively, draping his arm around inner Daisuke's shoulders.
Shut up, Daisuke ground out, trying to block out Dark's voice from his thoughts. He needed every ounce of concentration put into glaring at Satoshi; he couldn't risk getting distracted.
Goodness, Dark mock gasped. Why so Kraddish?
'M'not Kraddish, Daisuke grumbled, staring intently at Satoshi's moving lips, a little part of him wanting to set them on fire.
Oh, yeah- and that's so not Kraddish… Dark commented sardonically, binding that little match-wielding piece of Daisuke with a piece of rope. Not at all.
I agree, Daisuke concurred distractedly, still staring at Satoshi. Why won't he believe me? It's like he's trying not to believe me, he mused aloud.
"Of course I don't want your stupid dead family's pictures!" Daisuke retorted, he too deciding to spit the words out louder than when he had first started. "I wanted to make you forget them!"
Then you've got to make him believe you, Dark advised.
"Why would you want to do that?" By now, Satoshi was roaring. "What is your problem?"
How do I do that? Daisuke snapped. I've been trying.
"My problem!" Daisuke shook his cuffed fist heatedly, causing Satoshi's arm to rise up with it and suspend in the air. "My problem is you! I stole to get something I want!"
You've got to convince him. Do something that'll make him take you seriously. …Say it. Tell him you love him right here and now. You mean business.
"What do you want?"
B-but we're in the middle of the play! My parents are here. My friends are here. Everyone's watching.
Dark glowered, being oddly supportive. If you love him, you won't care.
I do love him.
Then you don't care.
You're right.
Aren't I always?
"I want you!" Daisuke bellowed, squeezing his eyes shut and conveying every ounce of love and adoration for the blunette within his words.
"What-"
Daisuke's eyes fluttered open, glowing with a bright intensity that burned with fervor, and he interrupted Satoshi mid-question. "I love you," he shouted, stomping his foot. "You're just too stupid and stubborn and URGH to realize it! Don't tell me you don't feel the same!"
Satoshi's eyes widened, 'What are you doing, you jackass?' clearly written in their ocean-like depths. "Uh… You…what?" he asked, trying to put the play back on track.
"Shut up!" Daisuke all but screamed. "Tell me right here-" He stomped his foot again, not really caring that it made him seem like an immature child. "-and right now-" He stomped his foot again, harder this time so that it made a loud, empty thumping noise against the hollow floorboards of the stage. "-how you feel about me."
Satoshi was silent.
"And don't! Don't you dare say nothing!" Daisuke grabbed Satoshi and shook his fiercely. "Answer me, damn it!"
Satoshi's face was blank. "…Not now," he said softly.
Daisuke's frustration grew and his eyebrows furrowed in anger. "Yes! Right now," he ordered, the tips of his fingers creasing the ivory fabric of Satoshi's dress shirt and perhaps even coming close to bruising the skin that lay underneath. "Why won't you tell me you love me?" His knuckles were turning white in response to the amount of force he was exerting on the blunette's shoulders. He shook them once more. Several chain links down, the commander's arm hung limply, neither trying to push the redhead away in protest, nor attempting to move at all. "Do you not? Why? I love you," he said earnestly, cranberry eyes staring straight into icy sky blue ones.
Satoshi studied those crimson eyes intently, unable to accept this proclamation of love. He himself didn't understand why exactly, but it had something to do with chasing dreams, and fantasies, and other wishful things of a wistful manner. He could easily accept the little thief's lies and proceed to delude himself with the illusion of his so-called love. It was such an easy thing to do. It would make Satoshi happy.
…Or at least partially happy, for what person wanted to be truly happy living a lie, and loving the spawner of that lie?
But Satoshi couldn't do that. He didn't want anyone to pretend for the sake of his well being, to lie. He didn't want to be patronized and pitied.
Disdain and fury swirled at the base of his stomach, and each pump of ice that flowed through his veins helped feed the swirling mass of anger. But he was being patronized; he was being pitied.
He snapped.
"You lie!" Satoshi cried, inwardly surprised at how much emotion had flowed out through those two words. To hell with it all. He didn't care anymore. He would show as much emotion as he damn well wanted to.
Krad couldn't do a single thing about it either, lest he force his tamer to transform in front of everyone, thus revealing the centuries-old secret to an audience filled with stupid high schoolers. Sure, he could kill them all…but that would mean bloodying his well-manicured nails…
For the first time in a long time, Satoshi was free to express his emotions to another human without having to fear the painful growth of wings from his back that would eventually come. It was a pity that the emotions turning cogs in his brain weren't happy or loving at all; he felt rejected and angry and hateful, and so did his emotions.
"You're a liar!" The anguished commander shoved the little thief's nimble fingers off his shoulders and pushed him back as far as the faux manacle would allow. "Just shut up – and stop lying!"
Daisuke's eyes grew hooded beneath ebony bangs as he looked down. He timidly fingered the plastic chains with his free hand and stared at the floor silently. "Do you really think I'm lying?" He lifted his head a fraction of an inch, and the amount of hurt he held in his eyes surprised Satoshi greatly. "Why do you think I'm lying to you? Have I ever said anything to you that implied my supposed lying to you?" His eyes hardened. "Have I ever outright said that I was lying?" He searched Satoshi's face for any trace of an answer. "No?" he questioned scathingly. "Then why do you think that I'm lying to you?"
Satoshi contemplated his crush's words, suddenly doubting his reasoning. Maybe he just couldn't get past the fact that happiness was eventual, for he had never experienced it before. Maybe he was too jaded in the sense that he would never gain a fulfillment of joy in his life.
…Or maybe Daisuke was trying to trick him…
Jumbled thoughts of love, hate, and the whole confusing conspiracy of it filled Satoshi's mind, and his hidden insecurities placed brick upon brick atop the walls of his doubt, rebuilding it, enforcing it. And thus, the skeptical beast inside him was released once more.
"That… You… It-it's just something you would do. You're the type who would lie for the sake of someone's happiness."
Daisuke bit his lip, absently wondering if Satoshi had somehow overheard the conversation he had shared with his jii-chan concerning the special situations wherein lying would protect someone.
I don't see why you're surprised, Dark commented, deciding to put his two cents in. It's obvious that creepy boy is stalker-to-the-max! in j00r face, foo'.
"And how would you know?" Daisuke queried. "How would you know what type of person I am?" He allowed his eyes to narrow in irritation and his shoulder twitched at the growing tension. "You think you know me, but here's the thing: you don't. You're not even close. I don't like to lie – I don't lie. You're just afraid." The redhead shot his friend an accusatory glare and angrily shoved a ticklish lock of hair away from his neck. "You're afraid to be happy. You'd rather be sad and deny yourself indulgences. You'd rather run from the problems you have with me than face them head on. You said I lie. You lie! You lie and say you don't love me. You lie and hide the fact that you're a no-good coward. I'm right here, you blind fool," he announced loudly, spreading his arms out to the farthest of their ability. "Confront me and give me the truth."
The truth? You can't handle the truth.
Satoshi was almost tempted to say this rather clichéd line, but he managed to stop himself in time. Instead, he decided to fight Daisuke's fire with a heat of his own.
"You want me to confront you with my feelings?" the blunette snapped vehemently. "You and I both know I can't do that. Maybe I am afraid. Maybe I am a coward. So what? What're you gonna do? Yell at me? Attack me? Stalk me?"
"If that's what I need to do," Daisuke stated hotly, "then don't think I won't."
Ooooh, scary, Krad commented. The angel let out a muffled cough that sounded suspiciously like 'obsessive compulsive.'
Oh, and like you're not, Satoshi retorted cynically.
Thank you for the clarification, Satoshi-sama, was the placid reply.
Satoshi didn't quite know how to respond to Daisuke promise of stalking-goodness. He remained silent.
Daisuke's mood seemed to take a 360-degree turn and his eyes grew sad. "Is this it?" he whispered. "Are you gonna run, am I gonna chase, and are we gonna keep going on like this until we eventually give up and drift?"
"What do you want from me?" Satoshi asked wearily, his fervor suddenly dampened by Daisuke's sullen change in disposition. He pinched the area between his eyes despite the presence of his glasses.
"I don't want anything from you. I want you."
"Why do you want me?" Satoshi inquired in that same tired tone. "You've said it yourself: I'm afraid, I'm running, I'm hiding, I'm a coward."
"It's only human," Daisuke reasoned. "But you're denying yourself the emotional rights of being human and locking your feelings away – that's why you're a coward. I understand that you think you're sharp and strong, but inside, you're fragile and delicate and – don't make that face at me! – really, you're afraid of what you've locked away. You're afraid to be happy, to be loved, because all you've ever seen is sadness and oppression. But you've got to put it all past you. You'll never lose that fear if you don't trust me. It's all just a matter of trust. Do you trust me?"
Satoshi noticed that Daisuke's eyes were a strange shade of red. They seemed to be glowing with an odd light, and along the bottom row of his lashes grew a thin film of some indefinable liquid… Oh crap- they were tears. Satoshi panicked. Daisuke was crying. What should he do? Within his mind, Krad flapped around, yelling obscenities and cackling in response to his misfortune.
Shut up, Krad! Ahhh…! What do I do- whatdoIdowhatdoIdo?
Smack him in the face, Krad suggested helpfully.
No! I feel bad enough for making him cry! What do I do?
"I…I trust you," Satoshi murmured uncertainly, trying to look anywhere but at Daisuke's watery eyes. He felt extremely guilty – making a fellow boy cry on account of his feelings was not something fourteen-year-old boys did.
"Do you?" Daisuke's gloved hand pressed itself against Satoshi's turned cheek, forcing him to look him in the eye.
"I do…" Satoshi admitted, staring almost fearfully at the clear liquid that had yet to fall from Daisuke's eyes. He didn't want to be responsible for making him cry. It wasn't very nice to make someone cry, and he had done just that.
"Then prove it. Lower your defenses and let me in. If you trust me, you'll trust me with your heart. And you can trust me, because I won't even hurt you. I'd die before ever letting anyone or anything hurt you. You can hold me to that. Daisuke frowned and his brows creased in determination.
A single tear rolled down the expanse of Daisuke's curvy, pale cheek, and Satoshi could practically hear the crumbling of the distrustful walls in his heart breaking down within his ears. There was nothing a pitiful shedding of tears couldn't turn around.
The blunette cupped the leather-clad hand that was still pressed to his face and removed it gently. With his free, unchained hand, he brushed a lock of fake obsidian hair from Daisuke's eyes. Hesitantly, he ran his thumb along the trail of glittering moisture the teardrop had made and dried the other boy's smooth skin. "I can't promise you anything," Satoshi stated softly, making the redhead's dogged expression fall and leave defeat in its wake. "But… I can try."
Those three words sent Daisuke's heart soaring. That crushed look on his face instantaneously disappeared and in its place was the most excited smile ever seen on the face of the planet. The little thief glomped Satoshi tightly, rapidly blinking the unfallen tears from his eyes. "Do you mean it?"
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't," was the calm albeit joyful response.
Daisuke released his hold on Satoshi's waist and beamed innocently at him with sparkling scarlet eyes.
Unaware of the fact that his own eyes were glistening with happiness, Satoshi stared absently at those beaming lips, unconsciously leaning forward a little. He barely managed to stop himself, and as a result, his lips hovered a few mere centimeters over Daisuke's. The redhead blushed a blush that made his cherry red roots scream in envy, licking his suddenly dry lips nervously, before he outright surprised both himself and Satoshi. Meeting the slightly taller boy halfway, he tilted his face up and gently pressed their lips together.
Satoshi had almost forgotten how good it felt to have this kind of contact with Daisuke; he no longer regretted not pushing him away. After a failed attempt to wrap his arms around the redhead's waist due to the limiting constraints that bound them together, Satoshi settled for cupping the other's face closer to his own. The warmth Daisuke radiated set the nerves beneath his skin aflame, and the softness of his lips made a deep vibration within his throat rumble throughout his mouth.
Daisuke moaned silently at the faint vibrations conveyed through their connected lips and felt his eyes close in pleasure, hiding claret irises beneath powdered eyelids. He sighed blissfully and almost automatically, his lips parted and his tongue mechanically flitted out, as it usually did when he released a sigh. The cross-dressed boy's eyes fluttered open in surprise when his tongue met Satoshi's lower lip; he shyly withdrew the moist muscle one second after and blushed.
However, Satoshi had other plans. His body fully relaxed at the simple touch of Daisuke's tongue against his skin and he pulled the other even closer before lowering his arms. His lips slowly parted open, wholly inviting Daisuke to continue what he had unwittingly started. With a hazy mind, his free hand slithered up to its other and loosened the simple fastener that had encircled his wrist. The prop manacle slid off his hand, hanging off Daisuke's arm and swinging silently against his skin. With a newfound freedom, the boy dressed in white and brown held out his arms and embraced his significant other, never breaking the kiss as he pulled their bodies together.
They molded perfectly against each other, as though they were pieces of a puzzle. Hesitant and timid, Daisuke experimentally flicked his tongue out and traced the soft yet slightly chapped lips pressed against his own. The reaction he received – a throaty groan and the tightening of arms around his waist – made him start in excitement, and he wished to please Satoshi even more. His tongue accepted the opening of the blunette's mouth as an invitation in and entered it slowly, taking in and savoring the taste of its new surroundings.
Satoshi tasted like mint, Daisuke noted with delight. But there was something else in there too, something that balanced the minty flavor so that it wasn't overly icy and bordering the sensation of being burnt. Surprisingly, he tasted sugary and sweet, like chocolate. Funny. Satoshi didn't strike Daisuke as a chocolate kind of person…
But Daisuke craved this unique blend of mint and chocolate, and he enthusiastically explored Satoshi's yielding mouth with an eager fervor. Every inch of wet, pink skin was coated with his candy-like taste; Daisuke couldn't help but run his tongue along every crevice it could reach, tasting the sweet, minty flavor that was his love. Suddenly, he started – this time in surprise – when something to the left of his moving tongue sprang to life.
Satoshi enjoyed the shy but dedicated feel of Daisuke's tongue within him, but after a week of being apart and drenched in angst, he craved to taste the shorter boy once again. Slowly, he coaxed Daisuke's tongue into a sweet dance, gently guiding their tango past their connected lips and into the territory of Daisuke's mouth. The redhead, sensing what Satoshi was trying to do, grinned impishly against the other's lips and wrapped his arms around his neck, careful not to whack him in the back with the swinging handcuff. He playfully pushed on Satoshi's tongue, forcing it back into his own mouth, and instigated the dance once more.
Satoshi chuckled huskily, a smirk curling upon his lips. With a predator's hungry eyes, he vigorously herded Daisuke's tongue back to where it came from, grinding his own tongue against it sensually to set the sweet dance on fire. The fire set a heated battle for dominance aflame, and the invisible sparks flew with passion until the winner was determined.
Satoshi held Daisuke tightly as the little thief's tongue grew compliant and yielding. His senses went haywire when the taste of Daisuke's mouth assaulted his taste buds, lulling him into an addicted trance. Almost predictably, the boy tasted of strawberries – sweet, but not overly so, and refreshing. Underlying the tasty ichigo flavor was the faintest hint of melted marshmallow, blending harmoniously alongside the fruity taste and spawning a busy mix of the two.
Satoshi ran his tongue over the inner wall of Daisuke's right cheek, absorbing the sweet taste within his own body and mentally mapping out every juicy inch of the redhead's mouth. This time around, he was perfectly aware of what he was doing; he made the movements of his tongue long and deliberate, purposefully tasting and savoring the other's presence, love, and essence. This time, their actions were mutual, and neither of the two was simply fueled on by the mere passion of the moment; the fact alone that Daisuke was willingly taking part in this made his heart flutter happily. There would be no heartbreak after this again; there would – perhaps – probably – be more of this.
The thought made Satoshi shiver slightly in ardor.
Satoshi's tongue brushed lightly against the gums of Daisuke's upper lip, causing the smaller boy to freeze and titter quietly to himself. The thief tamer shifted his unsteady feet precariously, transferring the weight he was putting on one foot onto his other. In doing so, he lost his balance, nearly toppling over, and nearly bringing the preoccupied blunette down with him.
Fortunately, Daisuke's back had managed to hit a wall and he stopped abruptly. Satoshi, fearing that he would crush the smaller one between himself and the wall, hastily unwrapped his arms from the warm body they had been embracing and held them out before him. His flat palms pressed against the black plaster, and both of his arms were outstretched to their fullest extent in front of him, one of either side of Daisuke's head, working as rigid support beams and preventing them from crashing into each other.
The sudden, rapid movements they had just made managed to knock whatever little wind they had left from their lungs. Weighing down their options – 1) to continue their steamy bishie kiss or 2) to die as a result of the lack of oxygen – they decided to continue living. To continue living meant to continue steamy bishie kissing. Yay.
The two reluctantly broke apart, their lungs almost sighing in relief as the oxygen rushed back through their systems, and stared each other in the eye. Their chests and shoulders heaved as they greedily sucked in ragged pants of air, heads light and bodies limp, but the passion and love in their eyes remained smoldering and unbridled.
Satoshi smiled fondly and dragged one arm away from its position on the wall. He calmly stroked an askew lock of onyx hair with his thumb and index finger and felt the sudden urge to rip the wig off entirely. He wanted to run his hands through the ruby hair he had grown to love, muss up those bouncy-looking spikes, feel and relish the softness and the redness and the cuteness. But the stupid wig was in his way… He continued to finger the artificial hair absently, the strange, fond, little smile still on his lips.
"Oh my god, did you see that?"
"Yeah!" Insert Squee of Doom. "It was so realistic!"
"Oh my god!"
"…Did anyone else but me hear slurping noises?"
The auditorium broke out in excited whispers and Daisuke grew tense under Satoshi. With a deer-caught-in-the-headlights kind of look, his eyes grew wide and slowly, he rotated his head several inches to the right. Blinking over Satoshi's outstretched arm, he stared fearfully at the audience with a hint of surprise gracing his features, as though he had not known that they were there before.
Satoshi felt sympathy for the poor boy. "We can continue the play from here," he whispered not unkindly, blocking the microphone with his fingers. "Pretend this didn't happen in front of them…" - 3 -
Daisuke studied Satoshi silently, the great debate reeling through his mind. His eyes took on a determined sparkle, and his panting lips split into a wide grin. "No," he whispered back. "Why hide?" His grasped the hand that had a hold on Satoshi's microphone and held it dearly. "Hiwatari-k –– Eh…" Louder now, he corrected his mistake with a slight fluster and a silent smile. "Satoshi-kun, aishiteru."
The audience gasped in unison at the name and profession of love. The Niwa had just said 'Satoshi,' not 'Takagi.' Gasp. What could it mean?
Satoshi separated from the wall completely and pulled Daisuke into a sweet embrace, pressing their bodies together as he did so. The other's arms instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist, and he cocked his neck forward a little to nuzzle the redhead's cheek with his own. "Daisuke…" He purposely spoke his words lowly, letting his breath roll over said boy's skin in a tempting, alluring way. "I love you too."
The hall exploded with hundreds of "WTF"-s and twice as many "OMFG"-s. Amongst all the confusion, one of the boys' kouhais, a girl from class 2-C named Moon Faith-san – or something like that, they weren't very sure – jumped to her feet, beaming like a psycho…and… -insert sweatdrop here- …foaming at the mouth. Blushing slightly in embarrassment for her friend, Sun Jade-san pulled Faith down, handed her a RikuxSora doujinshi, and hoped for the best. - 4 -
Daisuke pulled away from Satoshi's warm, comforting body with a tender smile lighting up his features. Slowly, he rocked forward, ready to instigate another kiss, when the blunette pressed a long, graceful finger against his lips.
"Daisuke…" Satoshi said softly. "Everyone's looking. Are you sure you want to…?"
This time, it was Daisuke's turn to interrupt. He gently ran the tip of his tongue over Satoshi's finger, grinning rather impishly when the commander pulled his hand back in shock. "I don't care if they know – if they know that I love you." He pulled Satoshi closer to him, pressing their faces closer together until their lips were barely an inch apart. "Because I do, and they can't change that." And with that, he closed the meager distance between their lips and another steamy kiss ensued. They were lost in their own world, a world of love and passion, and it didn't seem like they wanted to leave just yet.
Ika, more than a little bit miffed about the wreckage of her play, scowled crossly to herself from somewhere offstage as the ever-present gaggle of shounen-ai worshippers took control. One tugged the curtain close, making its hem drag along the floor, while another whipped a camcorder out of…nowhere…and began recording the show.
Two girls whipped out a long sheet of butcher paper and ran onto the little bit of stage in front of the closed curtains. Unfurling it, they presented it proudly in front of the utterly confused audience and grinned widely.
Scribed in large, fancy, articulate cursive was the simple word that meant so much to Satoshi: Fin.
They had finally gotten their happy ending.
------
1. Y'know those things little poles around display cases? They have holes on the sides, and then you hook one of those thick velvet ropes to the holes and they stop you from getting closer to the art. That's a rope stand. I dunno what they're called… So I'll call them a rope stand.
2. Hey, it's high school. No one cares if you swear anymore. XD
3. How they managed to make out without moving those microphones, I'll never know. Maybe they did move them…but then they magically went back in front of their mouths after they finished… Whatever – live with it.
4. This is for Faith Moon n Jade Sun, who said in a review for chapter 2 that she wanted to be in the audience during Dai's confession of love. There you go, Faith! You get to be a rabid yaoi fangirl. xD
Killah: I can't write a lime to save my life… I suck… /cries and tries to drown self/ But still… SATOXDAI-NESS TO THE MAX! AHHHHHH! …/cough/ Okay. Now that that's out of my system, I'll continue on… xD Ohmygawd. /dies/ I've finally finished this. Ahhhhh… /sighs out of relief and sadness/ This is by far the longest story I have ever written, and it's only 4 chapters! Crazy, huh? I could have split each chapter in half and gotten 8 chapters (and more reviews /drools/), but I liked the fact that I was able to restrain myself and give all my wonderful readers long chapters. /drools at the tiny scrollbar of an 8000-word chapter/ Bwuhahaha… And OMFG. This chapter is -more than- 10,000 words/gags on the sweet taste of self-satisfaction and dies/
Stupid, rushed, confusing ending, I know. There was just too much drama and such a huge flood of feelings that I got lost in it all and couldn't really understand the reason why Satoshi didn't want to believe Daisuke. XD Hey, it happens, okay? xD …But really. When someone ends up crying, you've got to let them have their way. It's like an unwritten law. Pity their sobs and give 'em what they want; if you don't, then you're a cold, selfish bastard. And for those who don't remember the Fin part mentioned before, refer to the first chapter right before Sato and Dai talk on the roof – the happy ending and fairytale part. Yay for repetition and…story connecting-ness…
Fuck the horizontal scrollbar and yay for insensitive chapter titling. x)
I want to thank all my readers for taking the time to read my first ever DNAngel fic. /glomps you all/ I feel so loved. /sighs dreamily/ Special thanks to anyone who reviewed; I loved all your comments of encouragement and proclamations of love for my fic. xDDD
I'm contemplating the pairing for my next fic. Should it be A) DarkxDai, or B) SatoxDai? The summary for my DarkxDai fic is in my profile, but if you're too lazy to go look for it, it's about jail and the perverted wonders of it. xD I've already come to the conclusion that it won't be too long, but not too short, either. I just need to know whether you want to read this first, or the SatoxDai story. I don't know what I have in store next for poor Satoshi and Daisuke, but it will be angsty. xD Bwuhahaha… Must make all my favorite characters and their respective boyfriends-to-be suffer… /evil laughter/ Both stories will be rated T with very possible M-ratings to come. Very, very possible… Heheheheh…
Once again, thanks for reading, and I hope you REVIEW.
Ja. –Killah
