Part VII
Shingo's stomach twisted anxiously as Nakazato slid the Nissan smoothly into a parking space. Should I ask him up? I just want to be alone, and I know he'll say something about the mess. But…it would be rude not to mention ungrateful not to. He tugged nervously on a few strands of hair.
"Eh, did you want to come up, or something?" Please just go home.
"I should probably go home…" Yes! "…but I can come up for a second." Noooo!
Much to his dismay, Takeshi shut off the RB26DETT engine and exited the car, following him into the building. At his door, Shingo picked through his keys until he found the right one. He opened the weathered door for Takeshi, and held his breath as the Myogi driver stepped inside. He saw his place through the eyes of a stranger, and suddenly realized why his mother was always so adamantly after him to clean it up. Except for a bathroom and a tiny kitchenette, there was only one room. His bed was shoved against the far wall, and doubled as both a bed and a couch. And except for the bed and the little cart that contained his small TV and VCR, there was no furniture. Instead, there were boxes that served as tables and stands. In the center of the room sat the "coffee table", covered in stacks of empty beer cans. Car magazines, videotapes, and empty CD cases lay scattered over the floor along with occasional heaps of laundry.
"I didn't realize you lived alone," Takeshi commented, a slight smile curving his lips.
Shingo exhaled explosively. It was a far cry from the snide remarks he had anticipated. Well, that wasn't so bad. It wasn't bad at all, in fact. His anxiety dropped down to a manageable level.
"Uh, yeah. I moved out, a while ago." He suddenly realized that they were still standing in the doorway. "You can sit, if you can find the bed. Do you…want a drink?"
Shingo watched apprehensively as the driver moved some things aside and sat gingerly on the bed. Takeshi picked up an empty beer can off the "coffee table" and shook it in his direction.
"This'll be fine."
He grabbed a couple cans out of the fridge while Takeshi flipped on the TV and lit up a cigarette. He joined him on the bed and likewise lit up. They smoked and drank in silence, watching a recap of the day's sporting events. Shingo leaned back against the wall and took a long drag on his cigarette, feeling the tension ebb from his muscles. Now that the initial shock of the accident had worn off, he was starting to think clearly again.
He noticed he'd even stopped shaking some time ago. Exhaling a long stream of smoke, he glanced at Nakazato. The driver was leaning against the wall next to him, casually drinking and puffing away. Hoping he wouldn't notice, Shingo set his beer down on a box and began to tenderly probe his right wrist. It had been throbbing rather painfully, but he'd been too preoccupied to notice. Now that he was more relaxed, however, the pain was pushing itself to the forefront of his attention. He made a fist and winced.
"What are you doing?" Nakazato asked sharply, sitting up and peering at him.
"Uh…" he flushed in embarrassment. "Nothing…"
"What's wrong with your hand?"
"Nothing."
"Let me see," Takeshi demanded.
Shingo frowned warily at him. "It's fine."
"You don't know that! Just let me look at it."
"It's probably just sprained. You know, gumtape and all," he muttered.
Takeshi glared at him angrily.
"Fine," he capitulated, allowing the Myogi team leader to take his arm. Nakazato carefully examined his wrist, flexing it slightly forwards and backwards.
"Does that hurt?"
"Only when you do…THAT!" Shingo jumped as Takeshi bent his wrist sharply back.
"Sorry," Nakazato apologized, looking slightly abashed. Shingo might have laughed at the sight, if he hadn't been in so much pain. He glared and started to pull his arm away, but Takeshi's grip tightened.
"Wait, I won't do it again."
Takeshi must have seen his doubtful expression, because he added, "I promise!"
Slowly, he re-extended his arm. What the hell is he being so nice to me for anyway? It's not like I deser- ooo.
Shingo bit his lip to keep from gasping. Takeshi was running his fingers lightly over the inside of his wrist. He looked up in surprise, and wondered if Takeshi knew that he was causing him to tingle from the contact point to the base of his spine. But one glance at Takeshi's intense expression revealed that the Myogi leader was only trying to help. He flushed with embarrassment. Why am I reacting like this? He's not doing it on purpose. And besides, he's Nakazato Takeshi!
Takeshi looked up from his hand and smiled at him. Shingo gawked speechlessly.
Not that he isn't damn hot.
"It's sprained pretty badly. Maybe you should put some ice on it?"
His looks have nothing to do with this! And I definitely shouldn't be noticing them. Besides, even if I'm into him, which I'm not, he certainly wouldn't be interested in guys, least of all me. A pang of disappointment shot through him. I'm not disappointed, I am /not/!
"Hello?"
"What?" asked Shingo, snapping back to reality. "What'd you say?"
"Uh…I said you should put ice on it."
"On what?"
"Your wrist!" Takeshi snorted in exasperation. "Are you feeling alright? Did you hit your head on the steering wheel or something?"
"Uh, no. I mean, yes. Uh, I mean…yes, I'm alright, and no, I didn't hit my head, at least, I don't think so…that is..." Shingo gibbered.
He was too flustered to finish a complete sentence; he found that he couldn't even look Takeshi in the eye.
Takeshi placed a hand tentatively on his knee, and his pulse immediately shot up. What's wrong with me?
"Let me get you some ice," Takeshi offered, getting up and heading for the kitchen. Shingo watched him dig in the freezer with appreciation.
"Nice rear wheel drive," Shingo muttered.
"What?" Takeshi called from the kitchen.
"Er…" he flushed. "Nothing."
Takeshi returned with a handful of ice wrapped in a paper towel. He sat down and took Shingo's hand in his, placing the ice on his wrist.
"Here. At least this will keep the swelling down. Tomorrow you should wrap it, and I don't mean with gumtape!"
Shingo nodded distractedly, his attention still held by the way Takeshi's clothes slid over his skin. Ok, so maybe I am a little interested. He's right, I must have hit my head during the accident. That's gotta be it.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"I think you're right. I think I hit my head."
"Really?"
Takeshi frowned and casually swept Shingo's hair off his forehead to get a closer look. A strong feeling of déjà vu came over him as he remembered the last time this had happened. The other driver examined him carefully, moving his head from side to side to make sure he'd looked from all angles.
"I don't see anything," Takeshi concluded.
"But…I must have. Are you sure there's nothing?"
"Of course I'm sure…I'm not blind, you know. Why do you think you hit your head anyway? Earlier you told me you hadn't."
Takeshi leaned closer to look at him again. Shingo fidgeted uneasily…Takeshi was so near that he could feel his breath on his cheek.
"Because…" Impulsively, he closed the space between them and pecked Takeshi on the lips.
The GT-R driver blinked in shock, his mouth falling open. But he quickly recovered himself, and his face split into a giant grin of amusement.
"Aren't you mad?" Shingo blurted, astounded. Then he looked away uncomfortably, unsure of what to do with this can of worms he'd opened. What the hell did you do that for? What if he's pissed…then what?
"Oi, Shingo…"
"Huh?" he asked, looking up. Whereupon Takeshi grabbed his collar and yanked him into another kiss, one that lasted considerably longer than the first.
"I guess not," Shingo whispered breathlessly.
He wasn't sure what to make of all these new developments. Truth to tell, his head was spinning and his mind was mush. But he didn't care; he shut off his brain and simply allowed himself to feel; closing his eyes, he leaned in for another kiss. Takeshi responded enthusiastically, one hand entwined in his hair, the other caressing his back. He edged closer, wrapping his arms around Takeshi's neck. And then, unexpectedly, just when his head was starting to swim giddily, Takeshi pulled away. Shingo cocked his head in confusion, unspoken questions dancing in his eyes.
"I want you," Takeshi growled huskily.
"Want me to what?" Shingo asked, confused. Then he realized that here was the lecture at last. "You want me to stop running people off the road? You want me to leave the team? You want me to-
"I want YOU," Takeshi interrupted. Shingo's eyes widened.
"Oh." He flushed furiously when Takeshi's meaning dawned on him. And then a tiny spark of doubt fanned to life. "But…"
"Oh, just shut up!" Takeshi growled, grabbing his arm and pulling him into another passionate kiss. Shingo's burgeoning doubts were cut short by the mind-numbing intensity of that embrace. By the time the Skyline driver pulled back, he was panting excitedly.
"Do you know how sexy you are when you do that?" Takeshi whispered heatedly, nuzzling his ear.
"Do what?"
In response, Takeshi kissed him more fiercely, pushing him down onto the rumpled bed. He wanted to protest, having no idea that things would move this quickly. He was inexperienced, but he had some idea of what was coming, and he wasn't at all sure he was ready for it. But the last thing he wanted was for Takeshi to leave. All thought was cut short as Takeshi pressed searing kisses to his neck. He gasped, panting from the incredible sensations overwhelming him. It was too much, too fast. But he didn't care; he wanted Takeshi, and he didn't want to /think/ about it anymore. Once again allowing passion to override his overactive mind, he felt Nakazato straddle him and pull off his shirt. Opening his eyes, he found the GT-R driver staring down at him appraisingly. He suddenly felt very naked indeed. Maybe he shouldn't be doing this…
"Maybe…" he began.
"Shhh!" Takeshi bent down and kissed him hard, stifling any protest that he might have had. When they broke off, Takeshi slid Shingo's remaining clothes off, tossing them off the bed. Neither of them heard the slight clink of keys as his pants hit the floor. Takeshi shucked his clothes as well, his ever-present blue shirt joining Shingo's faded purple one on the floor. He felt strong hands caress his body as Takeshi's mouth assailed his neck and chest. Just as he was starting to thrash, he felt Takeshi slip a finger into him. Startled by the strange sensation, he stopped stock-still.
"Relax," Takeshi whispered, and he shivered as the warm breath tickled his ear. He forced himself to relax and before long, he was lost. He hardly noticed when Takeshi rolled him over. Takeshi took him hard, and he gritted his teeth, but a small whimper escaped him anyway. It didn't matter…soon he was rocking back as Takeshi drove into him, utterly immersed in the powerful sensations burning like liquid fire through his body. They climaxed in tandem, shuddering in ecstasy, and collapsed in a heap. Takeshi withdrew, and nuzzled his neck. And, with one arm clamped protectively around Shingo's waist, he fell asleep. For the younger man, sleep came a little harder. He wriggled uncomfortably on the bed, and tried to forget that he was lying on a big wet spot of his own making. Soon, however, the warmth of the body next to him, and the sheer exhaustion from the day finally caught up with him and he slipped into unconsciousness.