Title: Name

By: Metamorcy

Pairing: 27Fong

Summary: AU, Fong never had a love life due to his career so when he meets someone he calls a stranger in a bar during a job, he just goes along with it.

Disclaimer: Seriously? Don't own, just the idea

A/N: There are no flames in this story, it does have mafia and that's about it.

Beta'ed by WhiteAngel128

Chapter 2

Fong opened the door to his apartment, collapsing straight onto the cold hardwood floor the moment he stepped in. He didn't want to move anymore, not after what had happened, and wanted nothing more than to just lie in this same spot forever. However, there were still some things to do first. Just barely rolling around onto his back, he kicked the door closed and winced as a sharp stabbing pain went up his spine from that one movement. Refusing to move any more, his eyes stared up at his ceiling, desperate for his mind to make sense of everything. Both his mind and body were completely exhausted, his thoughts drifting towards nothing, and it was impossible to actually concentrate on a single subject. His memories of what had happened after he had been carried back to the room were still clear to him and enjoyed repeating itself to torment him.

About thirty minutes into another session of hot toe-curling sex, he had passed out completely of exhaustion, his vision going black just as he came for the final time, and collapsed right onto the stranger's body. The other had just chuckled, cradling him carefully, and Fong had barely felt a hand moving through his hair before succumbing into the darkness. He wasn't exactly sure how long he had actually been asleep for, slumbering in peace without a care in the world. It could have been only for a few minutes or hours, he wasn't sure. But soft tender hands had drifted him back out, shaking him awake.

Fong hadn't known what was going on at that single moment, his mind hazy and his body sore. It was like he was in some sort of trance, an afterglow of peace, and he didn't want to leave that sensation just yet. And those hands, those dangerously cunning hands trailed down his naked body, dancing along like they were making a pattern. He remembered shivering to those touches, moaning softly, and shifted towards them for more as if demanding. He hadn't been aware of himself at all, his body still desiring, still wanting more of that wonderfully addicting pleasure. As his eyes finally fluttered open, his mind tried to focus on the settings and spotted the brunet that had done all of this to him, standing there with a smile on his face. He could see those hands still on him, now massaging deep into his skin, and he simply moaned some more, arching his back as he rolled over onto his stomach to allow more access. His brain wasn't working, Fong was certain of that, the circuits probably shorted out from the pleasure that had racked his body bare. But then the touches vanished and the Chinese man had enough strength to lift himself up onto his elbows to look back, feeling the bony ends dig into the mattress.

With a couple of words from the stranger, he had learned his target was just beginning to get ready to leave and immediately snapped himself back into reality. It was like something within him woke up and he was instantly springing up to get dressed for work. Despite his sore body, he moved around with the same gracefulness he always had and made sure this time around not to leave anything behind. The brunet had helped out, fixing his hair for him, and even checked the room out to make sure that nothing was missed. Fong found it odd that the other would do such a thing, but didn't voice it, thinking he would ruin the moment if he did. It was like there was a barrier between them, neither of them saying a word about what had happened. However, the moment everything was done and over with, Fong finally spoke. It had been just a simple goodbye, nothing more, nothing less. There were no promises of meeting up again, no demands for explanations, nothing. He had just left, rushing back out just in time to see his target heading towards the front door. From there, he slipped into his assassination facial mask and maneuvered his body around the crowd and outside until he got his target alone.

His job was done before he knew it, a simple twist of the neck, and his target was dead, lying abandoned in the middle of alleyway for some unfortunate soul to come across later in the day. Soon after clearing out any evidence that could be traced back to him, he was heading home while calling his temporary boss to let him know it had been done. After that, he had opened his apartment door and found himself leading back to where he currently is at, only to loop to the beginning once more.

'What the hell is wrong with me?' Fong reached up, cradling an arm over his head like he was trying to feel for something, before finally forcing himself up to move. His body stumbled pass the kitchen, not bothering to eat despite it being early in the morning, and went straight to his bedroom. He needed rest, nothing else, to recover from his late-night activities, and flopped down onto the cool sheets. His body bounced gently from the springs of the mattress, almost like it was rocking him to sleep, and within seconds, he was already drifting off. His eyes glanced over his bedroom for a second, checking by habit, and as if reassuring himself that he was safe, his mind crashed straight into dream land.

It wasn't until the late afternoon did he finally stir from his deep slumber, stretching outwards across his bed in an effort to wake himself up. He listened to his bones creak at the movements, the covers shuffling underneath, and let out a content sigh in return. Slowly, he sat up onto his elbows to take a blurred look around his room, checking for the usual, and collapsed back down when he was certain everything looked exactly the same as before. However, just moving brought back that horrible throbbing sensation from below, his ass pulsing in soreness. At least it was finally diminishing down into an annoying dullness. Still, it was a pain to just move and he rolled to the side to check the time before sighing. It was too late to get up now, about an hour or so from dinner, and he was tempted to forgo a meal to continue resting, but his stomach said otherwise. A low growl, muffled by the sheets, went through the air and the Chinese man sighed once more.

'Better get something to eat…' He gradually made his way up to sitting, wincing at each spike of pain, and managed to lift his feet off the side of the bed, scooting close to the edge. Each spark seemed to make him wonder about the man within the back of his mind, his memories of the encounter still clear to him, almost vivid, but he refused to let it take control. He couldn't, he was a professional, and there couldn't be anything that would get in his way. And yet…and yet, his thoughts kept going back to the one man that seemed to twist him in a way he didn't think was possible. 'I'm screwed, aren't I?'

It was a few days later after that fateful meeting that Fong decided to venture out of his apartment, no longer sore, and get something to eat. He normally didn't like heading out to the restaurants due to their standards on food-making, but just for today only, he didn't want to cook anything at all. He didn't want to clean, wash the dishes, or prepare anything. It was too much trouble at this point of time. His payment from his employer had come in two days ago through various transfers of bank accounts, hiding the tracks of the transaction, and he was definitely going to put it to good use.

As he wandered up and down the various streets of England, the country he had decided to temporarily stay in for the past three months, he examined each restaurant carefully as he went by and eventually, he came across a small one at a corner of a street. Italian. The only one he had seen throughout the entire setting, different compared to the usual Asian and American chains with a few old-fashioned English pubs that populated the rest of the street, and peered inside through the tinted windows to check the insides. His dark eyes observed the numerous people within, dining either in the booths or tables, and seemed to be enjoying themselves through their expressions alone. Whether they were alone or with a group, the happiness shining on their faces at each bite was enough to seal the deal within Fong's mind. Taking the chance, he entered through the double doors and went straight to the greeter, stating he was here on his own. The person nodded to his comment and showed him to his seat towards the far right corner of the building in a booth, keeping him somewhat hidden from view except at the entrance. It was the perfect place for someone like him and he gave a small mutter of 'thanks' to the greeter.

The peacefulness the restaurant held within its little setting was greatly appreciated and his eyes trailed over the details of the place with inquisitiveness. It was quite plain in a sense with a large, fake crystal-like chandelier at the top with a painting of a midnight sky over the ceiling. White dots to symbolize the stars were visible and seemed to compliment everything just right. From there, he went to the walls surrounding the building, looking over the paintings of night skies that were various in nature. Fong smirked, everything seemed to go along with the mood, it was probably the reason why the restaurant is called "Notte Stellata", and peered down at his menu.

His black eyes drifted over the various listings of items before conclusively choosing something he was familiar with, risotto. He smiled gently to himself, remembering the time an old friend of his had created this dish for everyone for dinner to share. Luce, his former employer, ally, and boss, had been a brilliant woman despite being in the dark world. She was kindhearted and people were willing to follow her to their deaths, him being included into that bunch. There were others that joined her little group, known as the Arcobaleno, who were the strongest among everyone else in the mafia. He himself was well-known for his martial arts, being the champion for three years in a row, and was highly sought out for all sorts of reasons. It didn't matter, from body guarding to assassinations, he could do it, but not without a fee and his agreement. Fong just so happened to be a picky worker and never enjoyed doing dirty jobs that earned his distaste, forcing him to do one resulted in broken bones. Anyway, he had a few apprentices here and there along the years, but not many could keep up with his training. As much as he wanted to pass on his knowledge, it wasn't possible if there weren't any good candidates to inherit.

As for Luce, she had died during an inadvertent car accident three years ago. It was fatal, no chance to survive, leaving her only daughter, Aria, to run everything behind. The Arcobaleno group had lent their help when needed, taking in the young daughter happily to help teach her their ways. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same as having Luce with them and soon, everything began to fall apart. Fong sighed, he should have known it would have occurred sooner or later the moment the funeral began.

Peering up, he glanced at the waiter that came by and placed his order, asking for a glass of water as well to quench his thirst. He handed the menu back and went into his quiet state again. His mind reflected over the past three years, knowing it had been a long time since he had contacted anyone within the Arcobaleno group. He has no clue on how they were doing besides the occasional rumors echoing from the dark world. They could be dead for all he knew and he would never find out. Still, regardless, he wanted some peace from all the craziness that had occurred after the Arcobaleno went their separate ways and eventually moved to England of all places for a simple change of pace. As much as he loved his home country, China, with a little bit of Italy on the side, he wanted to see other places that were on the map.

His mind continued to wander over his past memories, ignoring the front door opening up, and the footsteps coming straight towards him until he heard something slam hard onto his table. Fong blinked and snapped his head up, thinking it was an enemy only to stare in shock. "You!"

The man before him chuckled in amusement like he was enjoying the sight of Fong's shocked expression and flopped down onto the other side of the booth. Before him is a bottle of wine, the label reading 'Gaja Barbaresco 2000' and had never been opened with its dark colored glass discolored from the contents inside. But Fong wasn't paying any attention to that, no, his eyes were glued to the man before him, immediately recognizing that beautiful brown hair and eyes. And now that the brunet was in the light and not the darkness of the bar, the full features were clear for all eyes to see. He was handsome beyond believe, able to put many male models to shame with his good looks, and had a soft complexion that made him absolutely perfect. Nothing was wrong, everything seemed to fit together like a puzzle.

The brunet chuckled again and tilted his head as he waved the waiter over, his honey-colored eyes never leaving Fong. "Do you need some company? You look pretty lonely there all on your own. It's a Friday night after all."

The Chinese man could only stare in shock, his mind still reeling over the fact that the man that had been haunting his mind for the past few days had just randomly showed up out of nowhere. He was still trying to ascertain his brain that what he was seeing was real and not an illusion. His ears picked up words as the brunet spoke to the waiter, ordering his food alongside his, before turning back to him.

"So, I have this nice bottle of wine but no one to share it with. And then I saw you while I was passing by and decided to drop in." The brunet reached over and pulled off the cord with ease, using only his bare hands. A sharp 'pop' echoed in the room and he pushed the bottle forward, obviously offering it.

Fong glanced at it for a moment before taking the colored glass into his hands and read over the label, watching from the corner of his eyes as the waiter came back with two wine glasses. He poured the ruby red liquid into both of them, observing the way the fluids swished back and forth, before placing the bottle back down. It stained the see-through glasses but, as seconds passed, it faded. Grasping the bottom carefully, he cupped his fingers around the top of the stem, and brought the tip to his lips, just tasting the rich taste. The juice was definitely rich, a perfect mixture of grapes and alcohol. "It's delicious."

"It costs 230 Euros so it'd better be."

The assassin almost choked on those words, coughing gently, before reaching for his water to gulp it down. He released a content sigh afterwards and peered up at the brunet with a look akin to horror. "You're joking."

The man just smiled. "Afraid not."

Fong stared at the bottle again, picking it up with one hand to examine the label thoroughly once again before placing it back down. He didn't understand why such a bottle would be so expensive, but it does look like it had been imported directly from Italy and he knew that country made some of the best wines in the world. Perhaps that was why Reborn, his old friend, was content with just his Italian bottles than any other beverage. "So…why are you here? I doubt it's just for some company and to share this expensive wine."

The brunet chuckled and took another sip before placing the glass down, filling it up with more. "You caught me. I'm kinda interested in you. Curious in a sense."

"Are you sure your curiosity won't get you in trouble? You already know about my…job." Fong edged, one hand slipping down towards his belt for one of his hidden knives. He knew that talking with this person was a risk and letting him live after completing his job was even worse. He was in a bad position and in a crowded place as well, his actions were limited to not gain an audience. Still, the man before him didn't even flinch at the threat and seemed content despite knowing he is in danger.

"I doubt your 'trouble' will kill me. And I don't care about your job honestly, I'm only interested in you. So, how about it? Willing to keep me company?"

The assassin observed every move, every shift, but nothing gave the other away. It was just like that time in the bar where he had been disarmed through words only, alcohol only playing a small part, and it was happening all over again. His heart sped up at knowing how this dinner would end and yet, he didn't mind all that much. Fong swung the glass back, gulping the rest of his drink down to give him a momentary peace, before looking over at the other. What is he supposed to say? Yes? No? Maybe? Regardless of his hesitating thoughts, his curiosity about the other was rising and he still didn't know the man's name! "Why not?" Fong replied as he went for the bottle, pouring himself another glass. "But I must ask, how did you find me?"

"Hmm?" The brunet hummed gently, swishing the liquid back and forth within the bowl glass. He lazily glanced at the other, one eye closed shut, and was leaning to the side.

"I'm hidden from view, there's no way you would have seen me unless you were following me in the first place."

"Ah, you caught me. I was. I'm just too interested in you to let you go after that one night. Can't deny such a delicious sight after all."

Fong felt his cheeks heating up and twisted away to cough, refusing to let those words get to him. He wasn't going to fall for another one of those tricks, he wasn't. Cunning words, he wouldn't let them sway him. He sipped on his drink again, trying to prevent himself from actually replying and saying something stupid. He knew he would do so sooner or later. It was too obvious with such a man. But he was still curious about the other, he couldn't help it much less sate it. "So…why are you so interested in me in the first place? I'm not that different from everyone else in here."

"Are you sure about that?" The stranger chuckled. "You look more beautiful and much more handsome than anyone else here. You have an aura that screams elegance and individuality. I like that in a person. You don't look like any of those slobs out there and you may not know, but in the bar, you stood out with those looks of yours." The brunet reached over and brushed his hands along Fong's cheek, cupping it so that they could stare directly into each other. A small innocent-looking smile is on his lips and his pale fingers stroked the cheeks lovingly with such gentleness that Fong shivered into the touch. He watched with those sharp eyes of his as the Chinese man remained still, absorbing his words, the cheeks dusted darkly. Before long, Fong snapped himself out of his daze and yanked away, immediately excusing himself from the table to head to the bathroom. He couldn't believe how easily he fell for those lines, his heart pounding wildly and painfully within his chest. It hurt. It hurt just how hard his heart was beating.

Fong slammed the door closed behind him, feeling at peace once he was out of that gaze, and went straight to the sink. His fingers clumsily grasped the handle of the faucet and twisted it on, listening to the gushing cold water spilling out. His hands cupped underneath the flow and he leaned over to splash a few times onto his face, trying to cool his rapidly warming face. It was unbelievable that such a man as the brunet outside could affect him so easily and with little trouble. He had meet plenty of cunning and handsome men before in his life from those within the Arcobaleno to many of his employers, but none of them seemed to sway him so effortlessly. 'Dammit, concentrate, Fong. You can't be swept away by that man's words. You're a professional!'

"You know, you shouldn't allow my words to get to you so easily," Fong snapped his head up, his eyes peering straight into the mirror, and spotted the brunet there behind him, watching him intently. He gapped in surprise. He hadn't heard the stranger coming in at all! Had he been so engulfed by his own thoughts to forget about his surroundings? He pulled away from the sink, turning it off, and rotated around only to feel something rub against his face. The assassin blinked questionably, startled by the rough fabric, until he realized what it was. A paper towel. The man was helping him…Fong's face darkened once more, wanting nothing more than to move away, but the brunet was faster. He grasped Fong's shoulder gently, tightening his hold, and continued to dry the face gently, making sure to not miss a droplet. Once the brunet was done, he seemed to pause for a moment before reaching up to straighten the black hair, letting his fingers run through the soft, silky locks. Fong let out a little gasp in delight as those sensations hit him, his body shivering gently, and unconsciously leaned into the touch. The stranger just smiled at the reaction and continued, making sure the other looked as presentable as possible, before pulling back. "There, you look all better."

"A-Ah, thanks," Fong whispered softly under his breath and sighed once more. It seemed that no matter what he did, the other just knew how to make him react. However, due to his lack of attention, he didn't notice the brunet moving again until a warm hand touched his cheeks. He made a light confused sound from the back of his throat and peered up curiously, wondering what was going on. That was, until he felt something warm and soft press against his lips. His black eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting such an attack, and froze to his spot. However, the kiss didn't last long and it was over before he knew it. Fong stood there, shell shocked, and swallowed as he stared at the other man, his eyes searching for something. "W-What?" His fingers immediately went up to his lips, still able to feel the lingering tingling sensation on them, and let out a few mumbles due to his lack of coordination.

The brunet just laughed. "Well, come on out. I'm certain the food is ready by now." He leaned over to grasp the long braid, letting it slip through his hands before pressing a kiss at the end of it, well aware of the eyes on him. Giving a smile, he slipped out of the bathroom, leaving Fong on his own, within his own thoughts.

'I can't believe he just did that…' Fong knew his cheeks were on fire, desperately wanting something to calm him down. He took a few deep breaths, but not even his meditation could help him, shoulders slumping downward in defeat. 'How can someone affect me so easily?! I'm acting like one of those high school girls in a drama.' Taking another deep breath, he held it in for a few moments before releasing, feeling some of the tension escaping his body. Deciding that this was the best he was going to get, he opened the door to leave the bathroom, his eyes going straight to the brunet at the booth. The man sat there, haven't touched his food despite having the hot plate there, and just sipped calmly on his wine happily. He seemed to be humming a small tune, looking completely content and at peace.

Fong glided over, settling into his seat, and peered down at his risotto, picking up his spoon to begin eating. It kept his mind off the person just a foot away, leaving the two in silence. But the assassin found himself itching for some conversation, something to keep him going from showing his nervousness. "So…what do you do for a living?"

The brunet peered up, momentarily putting down his fork in gratitude. It was like he didn't want to eat his dinner despite ordering it. Fong found it odd, but didn't question it. "It depends. Think of me as a jack of all trades. I can do anything if I want to, work as a teacher, a doctor, a business man, it doesn't matter. Those that hire me know I can get the job done. Of course, I'm picky about what I do seeing as I don't want to get stuck doing something stupid or far above my head. This is the reason why I said, I can take can all the troubles you have. Sometimes the jobs we don't like get the most pay."

The Chinese man smiled at that. "So then, how old are you?"

"Me? Not telling." The brunet chuckled, taking another gulp, and refilled his glass.

Fong almost wanted to pout. "Nationality?"

"Japanese. You're Chinese, yes?"

"Yeah."

The brunet continued to sip, paying little to no attention to the food before him. The waiter eventually came around to refill the drinks and peered down at the almost uneaten meal. "Sir? Is there something wrong with our food? You've barely touched it."

The man just gave a smile. "Forgive me, but I'm afraid that I've already eaten. I just couldn't come in here with some wine and not order something," The waiter seemed to understand and was about to leave when the brunet continued, "Ah, and before I forget, here," The other reached into his pockets to pull out a few bills, tossing it over to the waiter who stared at it in question. "For the bill, I'll pay."

"Hold on," Fong immediately interrupted. "I'll be paying or at least for my own."

The brunet chuckled. "It's fine. I have more than enough to spend. I'm sure you do, too. Next time you go out, invite me and you can pay." He gave a small wink and pushed the waiter away, his intention clear. To Fong, it meant that the brunet was hinting of going out together again like this and much more. He coughed, turning away, knowing he was starting to lose to the other and so easily, too.

"You're too good at this," Fong sighed, finishing up his meal and glanced down at the brunet's before taking it. "I might as well eat this or take it back home. It'd be a shame to waste food after all."

"Do whatever you like. I didn't really contaminate it if you were worried about that."

Fong smirked. "No, I'm not really worried at all. I've been taught since young that food should never be put to waste and should be finished. Let's just say I came from a poor family originally. Food was sparse back then and so old habits die hard."

The brunet shook his head at that. "It's not a bad habit though. Don't worry about it, enjoy the meal and the wine, it's technically free for you."

The Chinese man just laughed, feeling his barriers towards everyone and the world collapsing. He just didn't understand how one person could slip through everything and leave him completely defenseless.

Fong groaned loudly as he shifted around in bed, the early morning sun greeting him as the first thing back into reality. He moved around in his blankets, trying to get into a better spot, before eventually giving up. Apparently, he had forgotten to close the curtains the night before and now he was suffering for it. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, taking in his bedroom before turning his attention to the other side of his head. Nothing. No one was there and it was cold, telling him that the person had left long ago. He should have known the brunet wouldn't stay long. Letting out a depressed sigh, he rolled back around towards his nightstand, wanting to know what time it is.

He made a small grunt when a sharp pain spread through his body momentarily before collapsing back down, feeling the coolness of the bed sheets settle around him. It felt good and he didn't want to leave at all. But despite his feelings, it was almost one in the afternoon and he knew he should be getting up soon. Fong paused, narrowing his eyebrows for a moment. 'For what am I getting up for? I don't have any work today. But still…' He stared up at the window for a few moments before finally making his way up, wincing as he stood. His legs shook gently before finally getting control of his weight and made his way over to the curtains, slamming them shut. He was well aware of the squishing sounds within his butt cheeks, but ignored it for better things. Turning back to his bed for more rest, he paused.

There, on the other side of the nightstand, was a neatly written piece of paper and he quickly made his way over, ignoring the pain that sparked up from it. His fingers grasped the thin sheet, looking over the plain white page and to the handwriting within. It was neat and elegant, like something that was shown in the old days compared to the usual in the present. Fong smirked at that, shaking his head, and went over to settle onto his bed to rest. His eyes trailed over the words. "Good morning, or perhaps it's good afternoon by the time you wake up. Well, whenever you do, yes, I left you alone in your house. But not before taking care of some things. You'll find breakfast covered in the refrigerator so you can just heat that up for your meal of the day. As for me, I had fun. I still find you unique among the rest of the people on this Earth so like I said last night, if you ever plan on heading out, make sure you invite me. I would love to go and learn more about you. My number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. See you again, handsome."

By the end, the Chinese man knew his heart was speeding up, unsure if it was because of the flirting that was through the paper or the promise of another night together. Putting the paper away for safe keeping, he flopped back into bed, finally noticing his braid had been undone and the hair was all loose before staring up at the ceiling. It had been an odd trip yet…exciting, too. Fong shifted his body so that he could be back into bed, wanting to recover from last night activities, and placed his head against the soft pillow. He could still smell the scent of the man from last night, still going strong, and shifted towards it. His mind and body could still feel everything from the night before, the burning sensation of the pleasure still scorching him. And it felt great, welcoming, and he loved it.

Fong closed his eyes as he drifted off, knowing he would meet the other man again some time soon.

Tada, another chapter

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