Holy crap, this chapter's huge. Over nine thousand words, twenty-five pages; I think it's the most I've ever written in a single chapter.

No official pairings; technically,everyone in this story is assumed to be straight. But you'll notice there are a hell of a lot of Tango Pair hints in here. Sorry about that, haha—but, as always, you're free to interpret the hints however you like! I never blatantly say that any of the people here are heterosexual or otherwise, so, you know. Maybe they're secretly together. Who knows?

(Sorry this one took forever to write! Unfortunately, future chapters might take equally long, if I want to maintain the length.)

((Also! I don't own any of the songs mentioned here. I've named the artists along with the song name, so, you know, credit goes to them, and all that jazz.))

(((I just found a picture of a Marui-Niou-Kirihara-Yagyuu-Yanagi fivesome.)))

((((Uh, also! For some indiscernible reason, I'm very, very fond of MaruiHara at the moment—Marui and Kirihara, that is. So if anyone would like to write a nice, legit fic for them… Oh, and sorry about the parenthetical overkill.))))

Marui was at the doctor's.

He had a case of laughing too much, and his stomach had hurt for hours afterward.

Akaya thought it served him right.

("He invited you to a karaoke party? Seriously? I can go too? That's awesome! Hey, look on the bright side—you're pretty good at singing, right? Oh, Yukimura wants to invite your family? And tell them you're gay? Hahahahahahahaha—!")

Damn him.

Akaya sighed and fiddled with his cell phone. This really wasn't where he'd envisioned himself in life. He wasn't poor—not at all, actually. His family was fairly wealthy, and he really could've done anything he wanted in life. Journalism had always interested him, and his family had been good friends with Marui's family. When Marui decided to pursue journalism with Niou, Akaya had been encouraged to do the same. He didn't mind it at first—it was basic stuff, writing articles and whatnot. Then he'd gotten promoted to actually doing the interviewing, and then he'd gotten promoted to doing the undercover works.

It'd been fun. Until now.

He never thought it'd go this far. He was engaged to be married because of his boss's whims.

(He should've expected it.)

Was this really what he wanted out of life? It wasn't what he'd expected, definitely. But he still loved journalism, and he did want to take over the company someday. It was one thing to live a pampered life and depend on his parents, but he'd never been the dependent type. He'd wanted to make a living for himself, and now he had.

He just didn't know if he wanted to keep it.

With a resigned sort of sigh, he dialed his mother's phone number. It took only one ring before his mother picked up.

"Akaya? It's great to hear from you! You haven't called in weeks! How are you? Are you eating well? Do you have a girlfriend yet?"

He cringed a little at the last question. "I'm fine, Mom," he managed. "And as for the girlfriend thing . . . that's, uh . . . that's why I'm calling, actually."

"Oh, fantastic!" she trilled. "I can't wait to meet her!"

Akaya blanched. "Wait, that's not what I—"

"Your family misses you so much; you must come over! As a matter of fact, why don't you come over today? Right now? You don't have work at the moment, do you? Oh, it's fine, I'll just contact Niou and tell him to let you off. Come on, your sister wants to see you so badly! And you have to bring a picture of your new girlfriend! Is it that sweet Sakuno dear from the company? She's such a sweetheart—oh, she'll make a lovely daughter in law! See you soon, dear!"

She hung up.

That was exactly what he'd expected her to do, but it didn't mean he had to like it. His mother was like that—he had learned to associate one-sided conversations with her since he was six. She could carry on like that for hours at a time—he'd gotten off lucky, with only a two minute conversation. If it could even be called that.

Akaya groaned and leaned back, slamming his phone on the coffee table. A picture of his girlfriend. He could give her a picture of Sakuno instead, but he doubted Sakuno would take kindly to that.

Then he snorted. He might as well just give his parents a picture of Yukimura; he looked like a girl, anyway. He could pass off as one; he even sounded like a girl, for Pete's sake.

Akaya scowled. If Yukimura wanted this, fine. He didn't blame him. But Niou! He was enjoying this way too much. Knowing him, he'd probably screw with Akaya's family, too. He wasn't sure how his family would take it—he wasn't actually gay, of course. Not that he or his family had anything against homosexuality—but his mother realizing that her sweet, darling little Akaya wasn't going to be bringing forth any grandchildren?

Bring on the waterworks.

(In the form of tears, but probably also in the form of weaponry.)

And his mother had a tendency to . . . get a little overdramatic. Just a little.

Who was he kidding? She'd thrown a complete fit that one time he'd gotten picked on by a boy older than him, back in second grade. The boy (and his parents, probably) were scarred for life, and had fled the park as quickly as possible. Akaya didn't remember the details—thank god for selective memory.

Then there was his father.

Akaya shuddered.

Oh, he loved his father, no doubt. He really, honestly, sincerely did love his family. But.

But.

His father was almost as protective as his mother was, if not worse. And those two, combined with his sister—

Akaya decided he didn't want to think about it.

Marui burst through the door. "Good morning, sunshine!" he called, and positively beamed. "I'm in a fantastical mood!"

"Fantastical means ludicrously out of place, or odd," Akaya said absentmindedly. "It doesn't mean fantastic."

Marui considered that, then shrugged it off. "Someone's in a bad mood," he cooed in his best baby-voice, and pinched Akaya's cheek. "Did somebody get dumped by his boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Akaya said thinly, and, with an incredible amount of self-restraint, removed Marui's hand without snapping his arm in half. "And no, I didn't get dumped." He was mildly insulted by that notion; he wasn't particularly stuck up, but he'd always been rather popular with women.

(And, as it would appear, men.)

"My mom thinks I have a girlfriend," he said slowly, and fully expecting Marui's burst of laughter.

"Stop," Marui pleaded, still giggling. "The doctor said I can't laugh too much, or my stomach will explode, or something."

Akaya looked up, startled. "He said that?"

Marui waved it off. "Something like that," he said dismissively. "The point is, you're kind of an idiot. What the hell are you going to do? Isn't your mom kind of . . . obsessive-compulsive?" That was a severe understatement, of course, and Akaya knew it. Marui had experienced his mom's wrath firsthand, when he'd dropped a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the floor back when they were in middle school.

"You think?"

He grinned. "Chill out, Aka-chan." Akaya scowled at the nickname. "You're Kirihara Akaya, master flirter, remember? You could give Niou a run for his money; are you really going to let some girly-guy do this to you? You know you're going to get the company, anyway, so just tough it out for a few more months."

"I'm getting married in a few more months," Akaya spat.

Marui shook his head. "Not necessarily," he replied impishly. "Imagine how devastated Yukimura would be if he saw you flirting with someone else. So devastated that he might put off the wedding for a little while. If you can pull through a few more months, you're home free! You get the company, break up with Yukimura, stay undercover for a little while—being the head of Star Weekly is a pretty discreet job, anyway. You're all set! Come up with some excuse about not being ready for a relationship, and then a while later declare you're straight, and Yukimura will never come hunting after you again."

"I know that part," Akaya said with a grimace. "I've dreamed about it for weeks. It's not that easy, trust me. I thought through all of it."

"What's so hard about it?" Marui demanded.

"All of it! Finding someone to flirt with, looking for an opportune moment, the consequences—"

"You're such a girl."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

Marui looked away haughtily. "I'm too mature to be involved in such an—an immature discussion." He folded his arms and tilted his head upwards in a mock example of dignity. He looked more like he'd broken his neck.

Akaya snorted. "You're about the least mature person I know."

Marui paused, then gave him a nudge. "Give this plan a shot, c'mon. I promise it'll be worth it."

Yukimura smiled pleasantly, and tapped his fingers to the beat. He was listening to tango music—Mi Noche Triste, by Castriota, and leaned toward the computer. Sanada was sitting off to the side, reading a novel, while Yukimura remained fixated by the tune playing on the computer. "Sanada," he murmured, "isn't it beautiful?"

Sanada gave a grunt in reply.

The blunette smiled. "You know you love tango music," he teased. "I heard you listening to it with Atobe the other day."

Sanada looked startled for a split second. "Yes, I was; he has quite a collection. How did you know that?"

Yukimura laughed and changed the topic. "Atobe's quite the dancer, isn't he?" He looked at Sanada thoughtfully. "Has he ever thought to teach you?"

That was an odd question.

"What? No, I—"

"Pity," Yukimura said, disappointedly. "I wanted you to teach me. I suppose I could ask Atobe . . . but I really don't want to trouble him too much. He's been so generous to me already, what with the engagement proposal ceremony and all. Although I really would love to tango with Kirihara-kun at the wedding."

"Speaking of which," Sanada began, "was that absolutely necessary? This relationship isn't going to last, you realize; at some point, you'll grow tired of torturing him, and what will you tell the public, then? You've made it such a publicity stunt that I wouldn't be surprised if Atobe's cousin in Germany knew about it. It isn't like you to be careless, Yukimura."

He shook his head. "I wasn't being careless," he insisted. "In fact, it'll be beneficial; all I have to do is break up with him on our wedding day, run away from the altar and say that my heart is with another, apologize to him, cause a scene." He said it the way someone would when discussing the weather. "Then I'll have a tennis match, win, be interviewed about my heartbreak, announce that I'm not ready for a relationship, but that there is someone out there who is meant for him and someone who is meant for me, and go on with life." He smiled. "It'll keep the fangirls away for a few months, too."

"Then I'm assuming you don't plan on following through with the—" Sanada grimaced as he said it "—honeymoon."

"See, I'm not quite sure about that yet. I would like to follow through with it," he admitted. "It'd be great fun. I wonder if he's a virgin."

"Yukimura!"

Yukimura laughed and ignored Sanada's stunned expression. "If I do decide to go through with the wedding," he said, "I'd have to wait a few weeks, then announce that we aren't right for each other, break up, give him a sad kiss farewell—in front of an audience, of course—and act depressed for a few months. Both plans are entirely plausible."

"What if he falls for you?"

"Don't worry," Yukimura assured. "He's not gay. He's very, very straight. In fact, I think he might be homophobic."

"You never know," Sanada said darkly.

The tango ended, and Yukimura clicked on something else. Another catchy tango began to play, and Yukimura sighed blissfully.

"The Libertango," he informed him. "By Piazzolla. My, just look at Yo-Yo Ma's expression; he's wonderfully talented. Doesn't Tezuka play the cello? Or was that Oshitari?"

"Tezuka knows a little; Oshitari plays the violin. And yes, it is a beautiful interpretation," Sanada murmured, and hoped to draw Yukimura off of the topic of Kirihara's sexuality.

"It's a shame they don't have many tangos for the flute," he said wistfully. "Mukahi and Marui both play the flute. You know Marui, don't you? Kirihara's friend?"

Marui, Yukimura thought, was very handsome indeed. So was Kirihara, of course, but Marui was a flashier sort of handsome. Kirihara was a bit more subtle. Yukimura honestly and sincerely liked them both, and really did want to befriend them as soon as the little charade ended.

He wondered if Marui would be interested in being the best man. (Although, that position was reserved for Sanada.)

Best men?

(Bridesmaid?)

"Why are you so interested in tangos?" Sanada inquired.

"I'd love to dance with him," Yukimura admitted. "Atobe and Fuji came up with the idea to host a pre-wedding party. It'll be some time after the karaoke fiasco, of course, but it'll be so much fun, don't you think? You should dance with Atobe, you know."

Sanada made a face. "I don't like dancing, thank you."

Yukimura laughed. "Fine, fine. Atobe's brilliant when it comes to dancing. In fact, I'd say he's brilliant at most things." He smiled a satisfied smile. "He'll never beat me when it comes to tennis, of course."

"You're at the top of the pro worlds," Sanada reminded him. "Nobody can beat you."

Yukimura gave him a fond smile. "You've come close," he offered. "If you'd just followed through with the drop volley, you might have won."

Sanada grunted, and didn't look like he wanted to talk about it, so Yukimura continued, "Do you suppose I could persuade Oshitari, Tezuka, Shishido, and Fuji to perform at my wedding? Oshitari with the violin, Tezuka the cello, Shishido the clarinet, and—well, Fuji could learn any instrument within two months."

"You might be able to convince Oshitari," Sanada said slowly. "Tezuka and Shishido . . . I'm not so sure."

"It was a nice thought, at least." Yukimura paused. "Who should I bring to the karaoke party tonight? You, of course. Atobe and Fuji, too. Kirihara's probably bringing Marui. Mm, maybe Oshitari and Mukahi. Ah, and Momoshiro, Kaido, and Kikumaru! They'll make for an entertaining audience."

"More like rowdy."

"That too," Yukimura agreed. "I'm really looking forward to today, I must admit. I'll be meeting Kirihara's parents in an hour or so, and then there's the karaoke. I wonder what his parents are like; polite, boisterous?"

"They might be shocked their son is dating a male," Sanada offered dryly. "Kirihara is straight, yes?"

"Very much so," Yukimura said, laughing. "Well, I don't want to cross dress—but maybe I'll wear something gender-neutral, just to make it fun. A blouse-y sort of shirt, maybe? Silk—apricot colored. And well fitting long pants. I would love to wear heels, but I don't think I'd walk in them very well. Maybe . . . I don't know."

"Ask Fuji," he suggested. "He's a designer, isn't he?"

Yukimura clapped his hands. "Wonderful idea!" He stood and turned off the music. "I'll go call him now. We'll probably have to meet up at some point. Sanada, would you call the people I mentioned and invite them to the party?"

"Sure."

Marui leaned back and grinned while Akaya paced, waiting for Yukimura to show up. His parents were inside, sipping tea and discussing Akaya's "girlfriend," wondering what had delayed "her" so much.

"You still haven't told them you're gay, yet?" Marui laughed.

"They'll hear you," Akaya hissed. "So shut up. And I'm not gay."

"That's what they all say," Marui informed him. "You look gay, if you ask me. You're too much of a pretty boy." He mussed Akaya's hair. "It's bad for you, kid."

"You're one year older than me," Akaya pointed out, stopping his pacing and looking Marui in the eye. "And you look pretty girly yourself."

Marui was plain amused, but Akaya was tense. Who knew what Yukimura would show up in? He was nice and all, but awfully quirky. He might've shown up in a pirate costume and Akaya wouldn't have been surprised.

"Chill out," Marui snorted. "Yukimura's not a nutcase; he wouldn't want to look crazy in front of your parents, anyway. Bad publicity and all, you know?" He glanced back at the Kiriharas' house. "Still, if he doesn't show up soon, your parents might not be too happy. You know, tardiness and all that. Parents don't like that stuff."

Akaya bit back a retort telling him to not state the obvious because I'm not an idiot thank you very much but with incredible self-restraint, shut up and took a deep breath. "He'll be here eventually," he muttered. "He wouldn't want to be late for this. And you can't really blame him if he is; he's a tennis player and a celebrity, isn't he? There's probably paparazzi and whatever. He's best friends with Fuji Syusuke—anyone like him can't be a good influence."

"Yukimura has common sense," Marui soothed. "He'll show up perfectly normal. Maybe."

"Akaya!" a voice called.

Akaya looked up at the same moment Marui started laughing. "That's either a really pretty girl," Marui said, "or your boyfriend crossdressing."

Please-don't-be-the-latter—

Yukimura was running toward him, light blue hair ruffling delicately in the breeze. He waved his pale hands warmly and smoothly, with all the grace of Miss Japan. His smile was welcoming and alluring.

But his clothes.

(And, for that matter, his face.)

Even ten yards away, Akaya could tell Yukimura was wearing mascara. His lashes were much thicker and darker than when Akaya had last seen him. They made his eyes look paler, and Akaya admitted with a sinking feeling that he looked beautiful.

His clothes weren't exactly completely girly, but they were more feminine than gender neutral.

Not boyish at all, unfortunately.

He was wearing a pale pink chiffon blouse, with ruffles at the front. Akaya supposed that boys could wear stuff like that too, but they typically didn't—not unless they were going to a costume party, anyway. He was wearing dark jeans, not stuck-to the-skin skinny, but slimming. And he wore combat boots—which, combined with the jeans, provided a startling contrast to his light eyes and shirt.

Akaya scowled. He looked like a stupid model.

His parents were going to love Yukimura.

Damn it.

"Am I late?" Yukimura asked, barely out of breath. Akaya supposed it came with the job—tennis players had to have good stamina, right? Yukimura lifted a hand to his lips and looked guilty. "I'm so sorry—I had the most difficult time deciding what to wear."

Marui grinned at him. "You look fine," he assured amiably. Yukimura smiled gratefully at him, and the redhead led him into the mansion doors. "You'll love Akaya's parents," Marui was saying. "They're the most friendly people in the world. Oh, but if you really want them to like you, you should compliment their house. They're so proud of that Swiss carpet . . ."

Akaya trudged behind them and unlocked the door. His house was a beautiful one, he knew—maybe not as big or expensive as Yukimura's, but still very beautiful. Yukimura eyed it appreciatively.

Instantly, Akaya's mother was at the door, hugging Akaya and asking if his girlfriend had showed up.

He tried to ignore Marui's snort.

He tried to ignore Yukimura's amused smile.

But he could not ignore his mother hugging him and cooing over his "adorable looks and wonderfully pinchable cheeks".

Yes, that was Kirihara Ri. The friendliest, most unsuspecting, most embarrassing mother in the world. "Who's your friend?" she was saying, and turned to Yukimura. She covered her mouth when she gasped, in a gesture that was disturbingly similar to Yukimura's. "Is this your girlfriend?" she exclaimed, and gave a little squeal. "She's so beautiful! You know, I'm a makeup mogul. I know these things—and goodness, are you beautiful! Oh, your lashes frame your face perfectly—and your outfit is spectacular! Where did you buy that blouse?"

"It was custom-made, Madame," Yukimura said pleasantly, in a lilting, mellifluous voice. "By my friend."

"Who's your friend?" she inquired, sounding genuinely curious.

"Fuji Syusuke," Yukimura replied. "The designer of La Maison de Glace. He's a spectacular designer; it was so kind of him to design this outfit for me."

Akaya groaned inwardly. I should've known.

"It's magnificent," she gushed. "You're magnificent! Fuji Syusuke is such a beautiful individual, himself. Sometimes I can't believe he's a boy." She led them into the living room. Yukimura's combat boots were definitely new, because they didn't leave so much as a trace of dirt on the expensive fur carpet. Kirihara Ri smiled warmly at them, and looked positively giddy when Yukimura leaned on Akaya's shoulder. Akaya laughed weakly and tried not to flinch away.

Marui cackled.

"Your house is beautiful," Yukimura said, with all the sincerity of a blind kitten. "I've never seen anything quite so nicely designed." Marui nodded approvingly.

"Thank you! You're such a sweetheart. Oh! I'm afraid I didn't ask your name," Kirihara Ri said apologetically.

Yukimura's smile widened, tenfold. "My name is Yukimura Seiiko."

Seiiko?

"A beautiful name for a beautiful lady," Ri said appreciatively. "May I ask what you do for a living?"

"I have a paid internship with a law firm," Yukimura explained. "But I'm still attending law school. It's very fulfilling." He took a sip of the tea Ri had laid out for him, and set it back down with perfect etiquette. "Of course, I still make time for Akaya-kun." He turned to look up at Akaya and gave such a sickeningly sweet smile that Akaya was tempted to run out of the house and flee to Sweden.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're not a model," Ri replied. "You're definitely beautiful enough, of course—but models are simply too scandalous for me."

Mom, you have no idea.

Yukimura squeezed his hand, and Akaya mustered up the best fake smile he could. "Yeah, she's perfect, isn't she?"

Marui excused himself, but Akaya could hear him laughing from five doors down.

"She certainly is." Kirihara Ri nodded to herself. "You've picked a lovely young lady, Akaya. Why didn't you introduce me to her sooner? When are you two getting married?" she asked impatiently. "You're absolutely perfect for each other." To Yukimura, she added, "He's a bit shy, but he's such a sweetheart. And you certainly don't have to worry about financial problems!" She gestured proudly to her house. "We're perfectly wealthy, thank you. I don't even see why Akaya works."

"What else am I supposed to do?" Akaya demanded indignantly. "Sit at home at eat crepes all day?"

Ri waved him off. "He's going to be taking over the company, soon," she said pleasantly. "He's such a talented boy. Did you know he used to play tennis. Very, very talented, I tell you."

Yukimura tilted his head to the side and smiled. "I know. He's so wonderful—I can't begin to fathom how lucky I am. And we are getting married." He held up his hand, and Ri gave an insanely loud gasp at the large diamond ring stationed on his finger.

"That's a beautiful ring," she said breathily. "Akaya! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Seiichi—uh, Seiiko—and I wanted to make it a surprise," he said through gritted teeth.

"What's going on?" a voice called, and Akaya turned to see his father, walking down the stairs. "Who's this young lady?"

Damn. It.

"This is Yukimura Seiiko," Kirihara Ri said, practically gushing. "She and Akaya are engaged to be married!"

Kirihara Ryou gave Yukimura a once-over, and stared her—him! (damn it, Yukimura was getting to his head)—down. "You're Yukimura Seiiko," he repeated slowly. He folded his arms and sat down next to his wife, looking stern.

Help, Dad, help!

Kirihara Ryou's face lit up, and he beamed. "It's great to meet you, young lady! You're a pretty one, aren't you?"

"Isn't she?" Ri agreed, sounding deliriously happy. She took three quick strides and seated herself next to Yukimura, giving him an enormous hug and smiling from ear to ear. "You can't even begin to understand how happy I am! I was always worried Akaya wouldn't be able find a suitable spouse. He's a shy one, you see. And he's always been a little quirky. You know, as a child, he used to dress up in Disney Princess costumes. I always wondered if he'd be able to find someone who'd accept that."

"Oh, don't worry," Yukimura replied smoothly. "I used to do that, too. It's always a pleasure to meet someone who shares the same interests."

Excuse me?

"You wouldn't happen to have pictures of him in those costumes, would you?" Yukimura continued. He widened his eyes and smiled subtly, hopefully. He tilted his head just enough so that his side bangs fell toward his eyes. He looked a thousand times more beautiful, and Akaya wanted to punch him in the face. It must have taken him a lifetime to master that look. "I love him so dearly, but it pains me to know that I don't know as much about his childhood as some people." He looked down bashfully. "I guess I'm a little insecure."

"Oh!" Kirihara Ri put a hand to her heart. Akaya wondered if she was about to have a seizure.

It'd be appropriate punishment, he thought spitefully.

"Of course we still have pictures," Ryou boomed. "I'll go up and get them right now! You wait here, young lady." He marched up the stairs again, presumably to find those photo albums.

Yukimura's smile widened.

A rainbow of swears flew through Akaya's mind.

"You poor kid," Marui giggled, and flopped down onto the bed. "You poor, poor kid."

They were back home. Akaya's parents were enamored with Yukimura, completely enamored. And not one of them suspected he was male. "He did that on purpose," Akaya fumed. "I know he did! He could've shown up in normal clothing! They wouldn't have thought he was a girl if he showed up in his stupid sweaty polo or something! And what the hell was that? Yukimura Seiiko?" He yelled wordlessly and punched a pillow.

"Hey, he did you a favor," Marui pointed out. "You don't have to say you're gay, now."

"They're going to find out eventually. Yukimura's a celebrity. I'm surprised they didn't recognize him."

"Your parents are technologically challenged," Marui replied easily. "Of course they wouldn't know. And if you just keep out of the paparazzi for a while, you'll be find."

"I am the paparazzi," Akaya snarled. He threw the pillow at Marui, who caught it easily and threw it back at him.

"Nah. You're a reporter. And in like, two months, you're going to be the company president. You won't have to do a thing. 'Sides, if you just flirt with somebody like I suggested before, the genius that I am, you might be able to get out of the whole charade, remember? You could pull a "sorry, I just realized I'm straight" routine on him. That one always works. Say you found true love with Sakuno-chan or something." He nodded, and sat up. His hair was a mess, but Akaya was too worked up to tease him about it.

"My parents are in love with him."

"They'll love Sakuno, too!" Maru insisted. "She's shy, pretty, talented, and perfectly obedient. She's like, the ideal Japanese housewife. And she's a hard worker. They'll love her. 'Sides, she's not a dude."

Ha ha ha, Akaya thought.

"It's too complicated."

"For your tiny little brain, yes," Marui teased. He ruffled Akaya's hair. "But not for me."

"Whose idea was it to go along with the whole stupid thing?" Akaya demanded.

"Uh, yours."

". . . oh, right."

Marui snickered. "You're an idiot. But you're my idiot, so it's okay."

"I'm not yours," Akaya replied sharply, not keen on the idea of anything gay-related.

"Chill out," Marui laughed. "I don't swing that way, unfortunately for you." Before Akaya could protest, he continued, "We're best friends, though. So even if you're the most retarded person on the planet—which you probably are—I'll stick up for you." Marui grinned up at him and gave him his trademark victory sign.

Akaya was secretly touched, but refused to admit it aloud. "Thanks," he muttered under his breath, and turned away.

Marui slung an arm around him lazily. "No problem, kiddo."

"You're only one year—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. So how about that plan of mine?"

"What plan?"

"The plan. Wait, I forgot: You're stupid. Fine, I'll do it all myself." Marui reached for his cell phone and began scrolling through the contacts list. "Where is she . . . ?"

"Who?"

"Sakuno-chan," Marui replied perfunctorily. "You have to kiss her, remember? Or at least, throw yourself at her. We're inviting her to the karaoke party tonight." His Cheshire cat grin set off a heap of alarms, and Akaya tried to steal the cell phone from his hand. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You can't call her!" Akaya exclaimed. "I can't flirt with her! Yukimura's going to murder me, and—"

"You're such a wuss," Marui told him. "He will not! He'll be devastated and stuff, but he won't kill you. He's smarter than that—it'd be bad for his reputation."

"Maybe not in public," Akaya muttered.

Marui giggled—god that was a disturbing sound—and dialed Sakuno's number.

"Thank you for inviting me, Marui-san, Kirihara-kun," Sakuno said shyly. She looked down bashfully, then looked up at him again, as if seeking assurance.

Akaya nodded, trying not to blush.

Her hair was out of its braids, and fell in loose waves. She wore a delicate little sundress, and although she wasn't the blatant type of pretty Yukimura was, she was startlingly beautiful. In any case, he'd fancied this girl for quite some time, now, and seeing her in anything other than her office clothing was a change.

Marui nodded proudly to himself, as if Sakuno were his daughter or something.

Sakuno continued, "Although, I had no idea you were friends with such powerful people, Marui-san! You must be very well-connected."

Marui grinned, and Akaya scowled at him.

"And I had no idea that Akaya learned all his brilliant reporting techniques from you," Sakuno added enthusiastically. "Or that you were the one who taught him how to dress properly! Or that without you, he wouldn't have—"

"That's enough," Akaya interrupted, smiling forcedly and glaring daggers at Marui.

"You two go ahead," Marui offered, and shoved Akaya and Sakuno ahead. "I'm going to catch up with one my connections." He gave them a cheerful wave and backed off into the crowd. It wasn't hard to tell that he really hadn't disappeared at all—just a few feet away. Akaya cleared his throat and took her hand. Sakuno gave the smallest of gasps, but didn't pull away.

The one bad thing about fancying someone was that you acted like a complete douche around her. Had it been some other girl, he would've been perfectly fine with flirting his head off, but Sakuno kept looking at him with those wide brown eyes and that pouty sort of smile which he knew had to be unintentional because she wasn't the type to be seductive but goddamnit it was seductive.

Akaya glanced at her.

She smiled at him.

He turned away and prayed to heaven and hell that she hadn't seen him blush.

They walked into the karaoke club, and Akaya saw that Yukimura, Fuji, and a few other people were already there. A crowd of people were gathered near the center, where someone was singing, and another crowd of people were gathered near the buffet. Yukimura glanced at Akaya and Sakuno's interlocked hands, and narrowed his eyes a little.

So far, so good.

"Now," Marui hissed, from the crowd.

"Are you crazy?" Akaya mouthed silently, panicky.

"Now!"

Akaya turned to Sakuno quickly, and without so much as a second thought, kissed her on the lips.

Sakuno gave a startled, muffled little exclamation, but didn't pull away.

Most people didn't seem to notice, but Yukimura certainly did. Sakuno was blushing deeply and looking both hopeful and confused. Marui looked amused.

Yukimura looked murderous.

He walked up to them. "Akaya," he greeted, and glanced again at Sakuno, who bowed quickly and introduced herself. Yukimura looked her over for a second, first with menace, then with amusement, and decided she wasn't a threat. "Nice friend you brought," he said warmly, "but I assumed we were going together, Akaya."

Of course, Sakuno was already aware of Akaya's engagement to Yukimura. She seemed completely embarrassed, and Akaya wanted to smack himself on the forehead—why did Marui pick Sakuno to make Yukimura jealous, of all people? She was about as shy as girls got—and he liked her! How was he supposed to flirt with her if he liked her? And the kiss had probably freaked her out. "I'm sorry," she stammered, bowing again. "I—Kirihara-kun—we're only coming as friends, because I've never been to a party like this before, and it was so kind of him to invite me. The kiss was—it was completely my fault! If I'm troubling you I'll leave right away!" And she began fumbling for her purse, and putting on her jacket.

"No, no," Yukimura assured. He smiled a dark, dangerous smile. "By all means, stay. I'll introduce you to some friends of mine." He turned around and called, "Oshitari! Mukahi!"

By now there was a large group of people singing. Most of the people weren't taking it seriously—but a few of the show-offs were. Akaya assumed they were professional singers, or something like that. A blunette was currently standing at the stage, singing some sappy love song, while a redhead danced to it.

The song ended just in time, and the blunette and redhead walked over—though the former sauntered and the latter practically bounced. "What's up?" the redhead asked. He looked at Sakuno, and his eyes sparkled. "Who's the cute girl?" He tilted his head to the side, and his pageboy cut fell toward his face. Why is Yukimura friends with so many pretty-boys?

Sakuno blushed, and Akaya resented the redhead for it.

"Now, now, Gakuto," the blunette interrupted smoothly. "Where are your manners?" He bowed with all the suaveness of a—well, a friend of Yukimura's—and purred, "Oshitari Yuushi, at your service. I apologize for the rudeness of my companion—his name is Mukahi Gakuto, and he's not as crude as he acts, my dear." He took Sakuno's hand and brought it to his lips. Sakuno's blush darkened, and she stuttered a greeting in response.

Damn it, Akaya thought, annoyed. That'd be him if he didn't have such a huge crush on her.

The red head—Gakuto?—pulled Sakuno away from Oshitari and retorted, "I'm not crude, and I can dance a hell of a lot better than you can, stupid Yuushi!"

Oshitari gave Sakuno an amused look, as if to say, You see?

Sakuno seemed completely overwhelmed, but before Akaya could do anything about it, Yukimura had grabbed his wrist and dragged him away.

This is it, Akaya thought. It's going to be the end of me. He's going to pull out a knife. I can see it now: "Kirihara Akaya, age nineteen, found stabbed to death in the corner of a karaoke bar—"

He tried in vain to pull away, but with every twitch of the hand Yukimura's grip hardened. "Let go," Akaya protested. "What are you doing?" But Yukimura refused to let go, and dragged him to a darker corner of the club. Most of the people were gathered in the center, singing silly songs and making funny sounds—for the most part, they were left alone. Nobody paid them any mind, and for that, Akaya was grateful.

When Yukimura finally turned around to look at him, Akaya was startled by the look of sheer hurt in his eyes. He looked completely despondent as he said, "What were you doing? Are you in love with that girl?" His voice trembled slightly, and Akaya didn't know any better—he fell for it.

Close friends of Yukimura would know that his voice would never tremble, he'd never look completely despondent, and he'd never actually be hurt by a cheating spouse. (Or soon-to-be.)

He'd make his spouse's life miserable.

But Akaya knew no better, and replied weakly, "No, I—"

Yukimura's depressed expression disappeared instantly. "That's wonderful!" He beamed. "It's good to know that you're still fully and irreversibly in love with me." He lifted Akaya's hand (which was still firmly enclosed in his own) and touched his lips to it briefly.

"Hey, I didn't—!"

"Your parents are delightful," Yukimura continued, and tightened his grip on Akaya's hand. It was an iron hold, and Akaya's fingers couldn't so much as twitch. "Your mother especially. I think she liked me."

"'Cause you cross-dressed," Akaya told him slowly.

"But she still liked me," Yukimura insisted. "I think Sakuno did, too. Oh, I wonder how she's getting along with Oshitari and Gakuto-kun. They're a bit too flirtatious for their own good, you know. I hope she's doing alright. Oshitari has a tendency to bed the girls on their first dates, and you know Gakuto—he's always been a bit crazy. He's had a threesome with Oshitari once, I believe. Goodness, it was something remarkable. Come to think of it, we never did have that twenty-threesome, did we?"

That was a load of bull, but Akaya didn't know that. As far as he knew, Oshitari was a complete stud and Gakuto was a lunatic straight out of the asylum. Akaya had no idea that Oshitari was a gentleman—and, well, Gakuto was a bit crazy sometimes—but not out-of-the-asylum crazy. Yukimura noted that neither of the pair would appreciate their reputations being ruined, but decided it could wait. For now.

"No, we didn't," Akaya replied painfully.

"We really should."

"We really shouldn't."

"Oh, were you turned off by the fact that Fuji didn't actually eat Tezuka? I'm awfully sorry about that—Fuji must've gotten a bit confused. I know he ate somebody—I just can't remember who."

"That's . . . not it." Akaya tried to pull away, but Yukimura was dragging him toward the stage by that point.

"It might have been Kikumaru—but I'm afraid I'm not certain. I'll ask him, if you'd like. And if you really do want him to eat Tezuka, I'm sure he'd do it for you! He's very, very fond of you. Let's go ask him now! He's right there, sitting with Kikumaru—ah, I suppose he didn't eat Kikumaru, after all. Shall I ask Fuji to eat him for you?"

"He doesn't have to eat anybody," Akaya assured hastily. "Please don't."

Out of the corner of his eye, Akaya noticed Sakuno being serenaded by the blunette—Oshitari, the player. Gakuto sat directly behind her, and had both arms wrapped lazily around her, his chin resting on the top of her head.

Akaya's scowl tripled in intensity.

"Then let's go sing!" Yukimura chirped, and jumped onstage. "Won't you sing with me?"

There was a wave of cheers from the audience, and Akaya could easily discern Marui's obnoxious laughter from the crowd. "Yeah, you two lovebirds!" he cheered. "Do a duet!"

Aren't you supposed to be helping me, you moron?

Yukimura (rather mortifyingly, for Akaya) ran his fingers through Akaya's dark curls and cooed, "I'm afraid my fiancé is a bit shy. I'll sing something for him, instead." He turned his head upwards and gave Akaya a long kiss on the lips, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him inwards.

More cheers.

Akaya just stood there.

He fled offstage as soon as Yukimura broke off the kiss, doing his best to ignore the whistles and cheers. Marui grinned at him, and dragged him to an empty seat. "Wonder what he'll sing," the redhead murmured, pushing Akaya toward the table. "He's a pretty sweet boyfriend, isn't he? I almost wish I were gay, like you are." He gave a Cheshire cat grin. "I'm so jealous."

And, as if he needed any clarification, added, "Of you, not of him. God knows who'd want to be stuck with you for a boyfriend."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Akaya muttered, and sat down with a humph. Marui snickered and sat down next to him, flashing a thumbs-up sign to Yukimura when he was sure Akaya wasn't looking.

Onstage, a lulling piano rhythm began to play. Marui nodded in recognition and whistled. "Thinking of You, by ATC," he explained. "It's a pretty romantic song."

Yukimura's light, lilting tone fitted the song perfectly, and for a moment, Akaya was actually caught up in it.

Then he realized the singer was practically the devil incarnate, and fled back to reality.

Akaya had heard the song before; it was a pretty popular tune, and he did know most of the lyrics. The first chorus was perfectly normal. "Thinkin' of you I'm thinkin' of you; all I can do is just think about you. Thinkin' of you I'm thinkin' of you; whenever I'm blue I am thinkin' of you." He looked completely into it—eyes closed, tapping his feet to the beat, making vague arm gestures—and looking like a pop idol in general.

He has a good singing voice, Akaya thought hazily.

Then Marui started snickering again, and Akaya realized with a sinking feeling that Yukimura had—reworded—some of the lines.

"No matter how I try I don't find a reason why I shouldn't cuff you with my tie; I always have you on my mind."

And then: "No matter where I go—if you're cheating I will know.
I'd like to be your boy—or else I'll break your heart. No matter where you are, baby I can't be far: 'cause I have spies on you all the time."

Akaya was fairly, fairly certain that that wasn't how the song was supposed to go.

The song was a romantic, innocent, sweet one.

Yukimura had warped it into a stalker song.

The crowd was loving it.

And the scariest part was that Akaya was fairly certain Yukimura meant every word of it.

There was a frenzy of applause when Yukimura finished, and a heap of compliments for his ad-libbed lyrics. Yukimura soaked it all up with his stupid, calm smile, and thanked everyone politely, before turning to Akaya. "Akaya dear," he purred. A few people chuckled at the nickname. "Won't you sing something for us?"

Akaya looked around nervously. He couldn't refuse in an atmosphere like this, could he? "I'm not a good singer," he tried.

Yukimura looked warmly at him. It was just too much fun—and easy, for that matter—to make him squirm. The boy was such a flirt when it came to women. Who knew he was such a homophobic? "For me?" Yukimura persuaded, widening his eyes in his trademark smile.

The blunette suppressed an amused chuckle as Kirihara tried wildly to think of an excuse. His throat was sore, he had a headache, he was shy, he had performance anxiety, of all the things—Yukimura couldn't help a little laugh at that one. He probably meant "stage fright," but didn't bother correcting him.

Then Marui winked at Yukimura, and slung an arm around his fiancé. "I'll sing with you," the redhead offered, and began pushing Kirihara onstage.

Yukimura nodded thankfully at Marui. Kirihara failed to notice, but was sputtering outraged protests at his friend, who seemed to be having a splendid time playing devil's advocate. Marui seemed to be the only person who realized Yukimura's ploy to be a good joke, an easy laugh—and not suicidal. "C'mon," Marui was saying, "it'll be fun! You're not that bad at singing. I've heard you sing in the shower."

"E—excuse me?"

"You're excused," Marui replied easily. "Let's sing!"

Yukimura sat beside Sanada, who looked rather amused, himself. "What do you think?" Yukimura murmured.

"I can't tell if he's a singer or not," Sanada replied quietly. "Maybe you should ask Niou, instead."

"I don't think Niou-kun is here, is he?"

"Dressed as Yagyuu."

"Ah."

A catchy beat boomed throughout the club, and Marui kicked it off. "Let's drop!" he began, pumping his fist. He sang the first verse in perfect pitch, perfect tone, perfect volume, a perfect singing voice. Yukimura raised his eyebrows, impressed. The song was Shake It, by Metro Station. It was a hard one to sing, because of the throaty way the song was sung, but Marui seemed to be pulling it off perfectly. He had good charisma, a good voice.

"Now if she does it like this, will you do it like that? Now if she touches like this, will you touch her right back? Now if she moves like this, will you move it like that?"

The way he sang it had the girls in the room (however few there were) swooning. He moved his body to the rhythm and drew cheers from the crowd. At the chorus, he began break-dancing, much to the delight of the audience. Yukimura smiled to himself. "Not bad," he said to Sanada. "Not bad at all."

"C'mon, shake shake, shake shake, uh-shake it!"

Kirihara, meanwhile, was just standing off to the side, looking awkward. Arms folded, sullen expression—he looked like a sulky child. Marui kept singing, up until the middle of the song, when he gave Kirihara a barely noticeable kick to the shin. Kirihara jolted, muttered something under his breath, and took the microphone from Marui.

"Well, I saw you dancing and I couldn't get you off my mind. I could tell that you could tell that I was taking my time. I was thinking of ways that you would stay and be mine. Your body's shaking, turn me on, so I can turn off the lights." He didn't seem very into it, but he had a good singing voice, and the lyrics came out very, very well.

Yukimura was really impressed. Kirihara didn't seem like the type who could sing, but there was a sort of rough quality to his voice that was strangely appealing.

"He's not awful," Sanada grunted.

Yukimura nodded. "If only I were a girl," he mused, "I'd find it kind of hot."

He laughed at the odd look Sanada gave him.

The song ended, and Marui basked in his applause. Kirihara didn't look too out of place, either—especially since the women were the ones cheering loudest. He was clearly more comfortable in the presence of females, Yukimura noted.

All the more fun to torture him with, he supposed.

And that good singing voice was bound to be some reliable blackmail material.

Along with the footage of him at the stage, singing.

Yukimura smiled.

It was some time after the song ended that Yukimura approached him. Marui was busy talking to some of the girls at the club, laughing and flirting and looking completely like the high society type he was supposed to be. He would make a wonderful singer, Yukimura realized. I should introduce him as a talent to some of the recorders.

But at the moment, he had more important things to worry about.

He searched through the messenger bag he'd brought along, and when he finally found what he was looking for, walked up to Kirihara.

The reporter was sulking in one of the chairs while he watched Oshitari and Mukahi throw themselves at Sakuno. I'll have to thank them for keeping up the act so well, Yukimura thought, amused. They make the most amazing actors.

He waited until he was practically breathing down his neck. "Akaya-kun," he murmured, in his best breathy bedroom voice. "You're a very nice singer."

Kirihara yelped and almost fell off his chair.

Yukimura tried not to laugh.

This was seriously way too easy.

"A very, very nice singer," he repeated breathily, and wrapped his arms around him. "It's an appealing quality."

"Thanks," Kirihara managed, and tried to pull himself away.

"It makes me want to be closer to you," Yukimura repeated, tangling his hands in Akaya's curls. "Why didn't you tell me you could sing?"

Kirihara tried to muster up a response, but Yukimura beat him to it.

"A present," he said, "for being such a wonderful singer and the most amazing boyfriend ever."

Yukimura noticed he flinched at the word "boyfriend".

And then he pulled out the handcuffs.

The look of absolute terror in Kirihara's eyes was hilarious.

(To Yukimura, anyway.)

Oh, the endless possibilities! Yukimura beamed, and taking of advantage Kirihara's petrified state, firmly cuffed Kirihara's wrist to his own. "You should sleep over today," Yukimura whispered, and, grinning sadistically, kissed Kirihara on the neck.

Fuji was absolutely brilliant. Yukimura made a mental note to remind himself to send Fuji a fruit basket sometime next week.

Meanwhile, Kirihara had finally noticed that the handcuffs had found their way to his wrist, and was trying desperately to pull it off.

Good times, good times.

"Well, that didn't work out too well," Marui noted casually. They were sitting near the edge of the swimming pool, watching as everyone else swam and socialized. The karaoke party was over, and Yukimura had invited everyone to his house for an after-party of sorts. Mukahi looked like he was trying to murder the brunette standing next to him, while Oshitari struggled to restrain them both. Yagyuu and Niou were chatting amiably, and not for the first time, Akaya wondered how someone like Niou could be friends with someone like Yagyuu.

Yukimura passed by with Sanada, each holding a martini. Yukimura handed his to Sanada, then jumped in the pool. He caught Akaya's eye and bared his teeth in a smile. "Akaya!" he greeted. Akaya glanced away, and turned to Marui.

"I was handcuffed to a lunatic for two hours. During the stupid party. For everyone to see," he said flatly. "And I'm going to be cuffed about twenty-four hours more when I get home. I wouldn't think it went too well, either." He frowned. "Who would've thought Yukimura was the jealous type? So much for your plan." He sighed and dipped his feet into the water. "Let's just go for a swim or something. I don't want to think about this. Or the idiot who came up with the plan in the first place."

He should've known better than to trust Marui; sure, the guy was a ladies' man—but nobody could predict Yukimura Seiichi.

Marui brushed off the jab. "See, here's the thing; Yukimura's bound to get pissed if you're the one flirting. It's like, a possession thing. You're his. You can't flirt with other people; especially since you're engaged and all. It's being unfaithful and stuff. But if someone else were to flirt with you, there wouldn't be much of a problem, right? It wouldn't be your fault, if that happened. So he couldn't really get mad at you—or handcuff you." He paused to nod coolly at a few girls, who giggled and blushed. Akaya rolled his eyes. "It might be even better if it were someone he knew, because that'd take the attention off of you for a while. And it'd delay the whole marriage thing, you know what I'm saying?" Marui continued.

Akaya snorted. "Yeah, I do. And it's impossible. Where are we going to find someone to—"

"Easy," Marui assured. "There are tons of people who like you. You've got friends and fans and whatever. I'm pretty sure Sakuno-chan likes you, too."

"Don't say that."

"The main issue is the timing," Marui continued. "You have to be in an area where there are a ton of celebrities, you know? And they can't be doing anything too exciting, because you want them to notice you. Kind of like . . . now. Mukahi, Oshitari, Shishido, Atobe, Echizen, Tezuka, Yagyuu, Kaido, Inui, Kikumaru and Oishi—Niou, even—they're all here. You need a setting like this. With the karaoke party, everyone was really into the singing. They didn't notice the whole fiasco." Under his breath, he added, "Unfortunately. And there are more people here than at the karaoke party, anyway. I think Yukimura invited some more people, or something."

"That won't be hard to arrange," Akaya replied, sounding not at all pleased about it. "Yukimura's constantly dragging me to these things."

"But you'll also need a way to sneak your friend in, and Yukimura would have to be looking at you when the person kisses you. And it'd have to seem like a spur-of-the-moment thing, not a I-want-to-get-you-jealous thing."

"Just forget about it."

Something caught Marui's eye. "Don't look. There's Yukimura!" he hissed. Yukimura was walking toward them both, waving pleasantly. There was a menacing glint in his blue eyes, and Akaya looked like he wanted to shrink.

Marui always did like playing devil's advocate.

He looked at Akaya, and grinned. Chances were Akaya wasn't going to forgive him for this for a long time to come. But who cared? The timing was perfect, the setting was perfect. Celebrities, influential people, all watching—but most importantly, Yukimura was watching. This was killing two birds with one stone—helping Akaya and annoying Akaya.

'Sides, it'd be fun.

"Hurry, while he's looking," Marui whispered. He tilted Akaya's chin toward him and leaned in.

Akaya looked confused. "What? What the hell are you—?"

Marui kissed him.