This story was requested by the splendiferous Orange-Maple.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, save the plot and the gifts given.

Pairing: KxHiro. Now known to the world as "Kiro", no?

Warning: Language

Thanks to everyone for reviewing! Your reviews make me want to write all the more.

Sugar, Sugar?

By Cory

February Fifth: Wednesday

"Don't look at me like that, Shu," Hiro grumbled, picking moodily at his spur-of-the-moment bento.

Shuichi's wide, smug eyes never wavered. "You still haven't figured it out yet?" He lounged back against his usual chair of their favorite lunch spot, a quiet café across the street from N-G.

"I haven't been thinking about it that much, honestly," Hiro murmured, rising with his tray balanced easily in one hand as he strolled over to the garbage receptacle.

And it was true; Hiro was oddly touched and flattered by the gifts, but he had brushed it off as an enamored fan. Every star had at least a few, regardless of looks or level of prestige. It saddened him slightly, but had resolved not to think on it, if to not be disappointed later than anything else.

Shuichi frowned and pelted beside him as Hiro walked out the front glass doors, his half-full soda still in hand. "What?! You haven't thought about it at all?!"

Hiroshi sighed. "I didn't say that. I just said that I have been avoiding it as mush as possible." He stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the cars to cease so he could traverse the hectic street back to return to N-G.

"You kidding? I wouldn't stop thinking about it," Shuichi offered dreamily.

Hiroshi rumbled out a noncommittal sound as he sipped his drink. This is where we are different, Hiro considered as he began to cross. He takes everything at face value and will plunge into anything without a second thought if it appeases him. Me…well, I've got to be the wet blanket, apparently. This is why—

Hiro's eyes furrowed. Another thing he was trying to steer his thoughts clear of: the girl of his dreams that had left him for her childhood friend, Ayaka.

Shuichi was still babbling as they strolled through the revolving front doors to sign in with a pretty but derisive secretary. "I mean what if this guy's a total sex god?"

"Then he probably has whores trailing his every move," Hiro sniffed as he hastily inked in his name to hurry away from the glaring receptionist.

"And he chose you," Shuichi practically purred as they hopped into the otherwise empty elevator. Hiro was grateful for that, because Shuichi probably would have continued talking even with an audience that feigned indifference.

"For what? Another fling?" Hiro asked. "Shuichi, just tell me who he is."

"Nope," Shuichi riposted, smiling brightly. "You're going to have to guess. But I'll give you a hint: he's not like Taro."

Hiro blinked, and the name clicked after a moment. Taro was the name of the guitar technicians with mossy brasses, stringy hair that was almost dripping with natural oils, and glasses that were almost opaque for their film of grit. He had taken to following Hiro with a dazed expression whenever possible. After K had caught him undressing Hiro with his eyes, he had shot at the poor man until he quit in fear of his life. Hiro laughed nervously. "Better than the sex god," he teased.

Shuichi's jaw dropped. "What the hell makes you say that?!"

Hiro winced. Shuichi had a knack of screaming when Hiro's ear was rather close. "At least he would care for me," he sniffed.

Shuichi rolled his eyes. "Your helpless, you know that. A stupid, hopeless romantic."

"I agree wholeheartedly," Hiro mumbled as they stepped off onto their floor.

"Well, who do you think it is?" Shuichi demanded.

"This would be a hell of a lot easier if you would just tell me."

"I know. But what do you know?"

"Well, it's a guy."

"Yes."

"He's possibly foreign…" Hiro added slowly. "He gave me a lot of American and European music."

"Ok. Wait, was it good music?"

"Excellent music."

"Great. What else?"

"And he has long hair. He suggested it in one of his letters, unless he has a terrible sense of irony."

"That's good. Anything else?"

"And he works with us. Or, at least me, anyway."

K glanced up as they answered the studio. "Hey, Hiro."

Hiro nodded in his general direction in greeting. "So, I have no idea, Shu."

For some reason, Shuichi seemed at a lost for words. He frantically glanced between Hiro and their manager, then slapped his own forehead. "Yeah, Hiro," he growled from behind gritted teeth.

--

Later, much to his chagrin, Hiro was looking for the present.

Well, not so much looking. After all, it had been lying in front of his door each time in plain sight. It was more of an expectant, eager emotion.

His stomach was filled with butterflies. Butterflies on acid.

And there it was, lying so neatly and smugly there on his scuffed foot mat just outside his front door. The hallway window was open, and at that convenient moment, a cold breeze sifted in and riffled the glistening golden ribbon jauntily, as if to welcome him.

He stooped and picked it up. It was vaguely rectangular-shaped, and he brought it inside, attempting not to get his hopes up too high.

He barely bothered locking his door before resting the present down on his scarred kitchen table and reading the note.

Lovely Hiro,

Apparently, Western holidays are not widely celebrated here. Well, I just decided to do it the old-fashioned way today, and give you something that all Westerners give their sweethearts for Valentine's Day. Don't worry, I'll go for originality again next time.

Love,

A frustrated, ignored man

Hiro ignored any sense of propriety as he cleaved through the forest green wrapping paper to get to the treasure inside, nearly slicing open his finger on the cardboard box inside as he shredded that as well.

Chocolate; it was Hiro's way of showing to himself that there was something godlike out there that decided to favor him. It was in a smaller heart-shaped box with a fuzzy panda bear clinging on with rolling, adorable blue eyes. He flipped open the box and tipped a caramel into his mouth. Holding his cache to his chest like a precious infant, he slunk over to his overstuffed couch to wolf down a truffle.

His anonymous giver was certainly a mystery, he decided. But why anonymously? Was he grossly perverted? Was he just a fan? Was he Suguchi?!

Hiro nearly gagged on his prized chocolate at the thought.

No, it didn't fit. For that, he was grateful.

It couldn't be Suguru. The child was sweet, but Hiro wasn't sure if he liked men. Even if he did, he wouldn't have been the type to cook up something of this nature. He would have straight-out told his emotions with no shame and continued working in a single breath.

Sakano…well, that did not fit either. Seguchi was his god, his only god.

As for Shuichi, he was totally enraptured with Yuki. While Hiro had previously harbored some feelings for his friend, he had stepped aside to let the blond reluctantly (and all but unwillingly) take his friend, recognizing that even Yuki could do Shuichi more good than he himself could. It had hurt, but he was happy for his friend.

And K was getting over his divorce, wasn't he? And from what Hiro gathered, he wasn't into men either.

K…does he know that I'm attracted to him?

It was true. Anyone who was into men would fail not to pass a second glance to the trigger-happy American. While he had been able to ignore it at first, it was apparent that his own manager had caught his eye. Hiro had long since that revelation decided that perhaps ignoring K was the best path for now.