All Too Fast
Disclaimer: No ownership, but the fic. Simple, ne?
Summary: maybe I'll keep the one that I have. -pondering-
Author's Note: Thanks to all who left me a review. I appreciate all the comments, criticism—flame me, praise me—yes, I am a review seeking, shamelessly might I add, good or bad! I guess it's a continuation. Every once in a while or maybe almost in every chapter there might be "flashes" of the past, but if that bothers any (or most) of you, I can work those out, but if you like the weird memories, then I probably, most likely, will continue to add them in. Enjoy!
Needless to say, he couldn't find her. Damn that woman—when he actually wants her to be around she magically disappears—but then again—he knew very well where she was. The building glared at him in all its 'supposed' glory, but as he peered through the many windows that made up the grand Paris Conservatoire he couldn't help but see the image of Noda Megumi-Chiaki (yes, hyphenated; because she had so boldly claim that if she were to become Chiaki Megumi then he should very well be Noda Shinichi, in all fairness) running (frolicking) through the many corridors. He couldn't bring himself to "look" for her; after all, he was the one who instated the rules not hours after they were married.
--The tie was suffocating him, but he was either too tired or too frustrated to identify the cause of his labored breathing. It was sometime around three (a.m. mind you) that he was able to escape the 'congratulatory' glances, the merry eating, and the jubilant dancing of downstairs. The wedding had been grand, the reception even grander, at least in the eyes of his wife, mother, and in-laws. They had booked, nearly, the entire hotel, hired caterers all of sorts, musicians of all skills, and the honorary guest was none other than the creator of Puri Gorota in the FLESH! Nodame had stressed on that particular invitation. He gave a weary smile "the things that go through that woman's head."
Unconsciously he began to unbutton his shirt. The room was lighted by the moon—he had intended to light the fireplace, but was worried about the ideas the hentai pianist would undoubtedly think if she were to chance upon him in such an 'atmosphere' Shivers went down his spine and he froze mid-button, glancing up, he saw a certain gleam in the darkness.
"Mukya!" she was spotted.
He stared at her in horror at the thought of her spying on him (yet, again!) as he undressed! "Nodame," he seethed.
She gave off a "fuoh," a sheepish grin and muttered her way through her 'because' logic, "what's Nodame's is Senpai's" her hand gestures wild, "what's yours is mine, what's mine is yours. Senpai's body is Nodame's, Nodame's body" she gushed enthusiastically, staring bashfully at her fingers "is N-O-D-A-S-H-I'-S!"
"Nodashi's?" he stated back with a twitch—never mind the train of perverted reasoning that she just muttered out, "Nodashi's!?" he repeated in disbelief. She ignored his angry retorts of "name slander," and made her way towards the balcony. Opening the glass doors she peered back to look in the face of her "Senpai." In her wedding gown, in the crystal light that spilled from above, in those serene, loving glances that she would give—his anger left him.
He gave a sigh.
She twirled about, to show off her dress to its fullest extent. The faint sounds of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata drifted through the open doors and he watched in silence as Nodame danced to the tune. She stopped in mid turn and showed him with glee the smooth ribbons that crisscrossed across her backside. A brow rose in confusion, but then, the sudden memory of a new in-law (was it his mother in-law? Or sister-in-law?) who so brazenly presented Nodame in a newly made dress and so slyly stated something along the lines of "only eight buttons, easy for a fast exit." He then suddenly remembered that this dress, this wedding gown that his bride was so fond of, was made with the combined efforts of his mother, mother-in-law, and even stranger sister-in-law. For curiosity's sake he faintly pulled at the neat bow in the center of the elaborate crisscrossing.
Low and behold, the dress seemed to burst open. He was as white as a sheet when a "Gyabo" met his ears. Clearing his throat as his wife bashfully turned to face him he stared straight into her eyes.
"One" he began, "my name is not Nodashi." He stumbled slightly at her curious stare, "TWO! No public displays of affection. Three."
"Stingy Chiaki-senpai!" she wailed, clearly forgetting the dress that was 'hanging by a thread.' "THREE!" he started again "nothing that we say or do is a topic of gossip." She batted the air carelessly and gave off that "ahehehehe" laughter, "Nodame would never do such a thing as GOSSIP!" she told him, "besides the truth is the truth. Who is Nodame to deny the truth?"
His face contorted in that strange way, "Four, we will respect each other's privacy. Five, we (mainly you) won't go crazily around searching for the other party when something goes amiss—"
His features softened. He took a step forward, reducing the small gap between them. Held her face in his hands (ignored the black bra that was peeking out) and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, "we'll wait, and talk things out rationally" he breathed. That small contact had soothe the beast, but when Chiaki moved away, and when he loosened his tie, took off his socks, snuck under the covers and fell asleep, Nodame reverted back into 'the beast' without her 'beauty.'
"Gyaboo" she stared confusingly at his sleeping form, "Senpai?"
…
It was safe to say that, "that wasn't all."--
It wasn't as if Nodame ever followed any of those guidelines, but he sure wasn't going be the one searching the school grounds for her! He turned, but then, the realization of "fatherhood" hit him and he lost a certain sense in his legs. Staggering, he regain some composer as he stalked off, trying to flee before anyone took notice. He had a "meeting" with Stresemann this morning, although he was late for obvious reasons. His sensei didn't seem to notice, he didn't seem to care for that matter. The hentai man of legend sat, happily in a pool of women: young, old, gettin' there… Chiaki could do nothing to change such a man, but he couldn't deny, even with the old geezer's lecherous ways, that he was indeed, a good conductor.
"Abilities that surpassed personality," he muttered under his breath.
"Ah, Ch-ia-ki" it was a voice that was clearly recognizable (only a dunce would not recognize such a lewd tone), "sit, sit" he pulled his young pupil next to him, "remember Chiaki, you are a married man." His eyes twinkled as he groped the buttocks of the voluptuous blonde to his right, "The wonders of Paris nightlife!"
"It's 9:30."
"Morning already!" he exclaimed, stroking the luscious locks next to him in a drunken craze, "by the by, we're leaving for Japan tomorrow morning."
Chiaki couldn't get a word in after that—dealing with a dozen flirtatious women was hard enough, but adding in a drunk, forever booked on cloud-nine was an absolute nightmare—Simply put, Chiaki left as soon as "Milch" started mistaking a young girl with a bob haircut as himself. It was only noon, and somehow he felt slightly "intoxicated" he murmured as he grasped some object to keep himself upright. He peered up and looked curiously at the strange name of, "ont lu aux livres" (which roughly translates to: read to books). He stared at his own reflection in the shop's window, hair in disarray—various buttons on his shirt mysteriously missing!
"Ugh," the chime from the shop's door made him realize that he was in fact INSIDE the store. Few people were shopping around, but it was the hawk-like eyes of the elder store manger (he presumes) that made him quietly retreat towards the other end. 'A father' the thought alone gave him a seizure. It wasn't as if he hadn't expected it to happen—actual, after marrying that woman he really didn't know what to expect. Babies were inevitable…right? Unless one married for celibacy, and facing the facts: it's impossible, "after all, it is Nodame." He let out a sarcastic laugh and ignored the strange stares that he was receiving. His eyes ran over various titles concerning parenting, child development and such, and they finally landed on a fairly large book, So You're Gonna Be a Daddy. 'What a juvenile title' he thought, but he still skimmed through it. It went through the various stages of pregnancy, the multitudes of symptoms and problems, cravings: food and sex-wise, the whatnots… It was an "ahem" that brought him to the attention of the said 'elder store manger' who was currently jabbing his finger quite poignantly at a large poster, the words "Vous l'avez lu, vous l'achetez" large and bold bore down upon him: YOU READ IT, YOU BUY IT!
He bought it.
The walk home was not pleasant, his mind kept wondering, but home, "home" he repeated. He had a few hours yet to gather his thoughts before 'talking' with his wife, but when he reached that familiar door, it was thrown open and he was dragged in by Tanya. "You've arrived just in time" the Russian exclaimed, "I've just made dinner and we're about to crack open a bottle of wine to celebrate!" 'Celebrate?' he paled at those words.
The French-otaku and Nodame beamed, "très bien!" they hollered in unison. "Exams?" a second later Nodame latched onto his arm, "another success! Another step closer at playing love-a-love with Senpai on stage," her eyes glazed over in overwhelming happiness.
He smiled, but her words sounded so wrong! She grabbed a glass and poured herself a hefty portion, 'She always did like her wine,' but he paled suddenly. Just when she was about to take a tiny sip, he grabbed the glass from her hand and guzzled it down. "Thirsty much?" the Russian, he seethed. Nodame took back the empty glass, gave a pout, "Gyabo! Drink all, and left me no friendly drop?" she smiled up into his flushed face, "I will kiss thy lips" her lustful 'ahehs' "haply." Throwing her slender arms around him she "attacked." 'If I weren't so drunk,' he cursed—somewhere, Shakespeare had turned in his grave.
At the dinner table, Frank ate happily while Tanya craved the meat with such force. She shoved potatoes, peas, carrots into her mouth, "must they put on a show while I'M EATING!" She tore at the carnage savagely and took a gulp of wine. "Maybe we should leave?" Frank suggested. She glared at the Frenchman, a sniffle, "but I'm taking the food." He nodded and ate another spoonful, "and the wine. Don't forget the wine!" she wailed as they reached the door with their plates, pots, glasses (as much as four arms could carry…).
He pushed her away, just as the door closed. Twitched at the thought of being left alone with such a weird—she stared up at him expectantly. He stared back accusingly, "You're not supposed to drink."
"I know. Just wanted to see your reaction," she gushed back slyly.
She stared at him again. This time with that—that look, "What?" he asked brashly. "Ahe, Senpai, you're blushing" she stated a-matter-o-factly, "hon-ey-senpai!" He swatted her warm hands away, turned his face away, daring her to meet him in the eyes. She danced her fingers across the span of his chest, ignoring his rigid stance, "Nodame's sorry. Exams, practice, Puri Gorota marathon…forgot that Shinichi II existed."
Twitch.
"Shinichi too?"
Her hands flew to her cheeks in a flurry (discussing such things!), "Muyka! To say such things!"
The End. Oo no?
Did you like it? I have no idea where I'm going, but the ending is obvious: Beginning plus Middle equals baby. I updated fairly fast, ne? Hope you liked it.
Again thanks to all who read it!