The Uke Flu

Chapter Nineteen: Clinic

Nowaki sighed. He found himself, as he had numerous times over the last few days, at a complete loss regarding how he was going to manage Hiro-san over the course of the next several months, especially if things kept on in this vein.

He looked at his lovely professor, stalking ahead of him as they made their way to the clinic. They were having a slight quarrel at the moment over an incident that had occurred while they were taking the train to get to Dr. Suzuki's.

Hiroki had ordered him to sit down, just as he'd begun to get up out of his seat to offer it to an elderly lady who had entered the train. Hiroki had been standing in front of him in the increasingly crowded car.

"But Hiro-san, she shouldn't have to stand like that." Nowaki's gentle heart had been greatly distressed as he watched the frail old woman jostled by the other passengers.

"Someone else will offer her their seat."

But no one did.

Finally Nowaki couldn't take it anymore and had stood up. The woman slipped gratefully into his seat and thanked him profusely.

Hiroki had been furious.

"Honestly, Hiro-san, I'm fine."

"Nowaki, you're not fine, you're pregnant," Hiroki had hissed. His voice wasn't not loud, but the train was had been so packed that a number of people heard and had stared in wonder at Nowaki, including the old woman who then offered to give him his seat back.

Nowaki couldn't recall the last time he'd been so embarrassed.

As they walked from the station and were nearing the clinic, Hiroki, still in a huff, was leading the way.

Nowaki broke from his recollections of the train ride. "Hiro-san, do you know where you're going?"

Hiroki stopped in his tracks and Nowaki watched as the color crept up the back of his lover's neck.

"Ummm, actually, yes," Hiroki stammered. "This is the same clinic I came to get the vaccine." It wasn't as if he was lying, he had gone there, he just hadn't gotten the shot.

"Why this one, Hiro-san?" Nowaki asked mildly. "There are other ones closer to our house or the University."

"I picked this one, Dumb ass," Hiroki sputtered, "for probably the same reasons you did: because I didn't want anyone I knew to see me.

"That's the last thing I needed, some student recognizing me as I went into one of these places. Then the next thing you know there's a rumor going around the University that Kamijou the Devil is knocked up. No thanks." Hiroki looked up and was surprised at the chagrin he saw on Nowaki's face.

"I wish you wouldn't use phrases like that, Hiro-san." Nowaki had a pained look in his eyes. He shook his shaggy black head. "Knocked up, it makes catching the flu sound so sordid."

"Oh, come on, Nowaki. You know what I mean. Your pregnancy is a wonderful thing." Hiroki stumbled over the "p" word, still felt so bizarre to say in conjunction with his partner. He tried to make his voice sound convincing, but without much luck. "I just meant it's not for me."

Nowaki's expression did not change.

Hiroki stopped and allowed Nowaki to catch up to him so that they were now standing side by side despite the fact he found himself feeling even more flustered. His giant seemed so sensitive these days: things he normally said that Nowaki usually dismissed with aplomb, the man was suddenly taking to heart.

"Look, Nowaki, I'm…" Hiroki's apology was cut short. As they arrived at the clinic they encountered an amazing scene.

The grounds in front of the Flu doctors' office were swarming with people. Both men immediately feared it might be a protest of some sort.

The aggravation that Nowaki had been feeling about Hiroki's over-protectiveness dissipated when his partner, who was generally very cautious of public displays of affection, took his hand. Then Hiroki unconsciously stepped in front of him, acting as a shield to the crowd before them.

Thankfully, it turned out not to be a protest at all, but rather a gathering of fangirls (and a few boys) and paparazzi. Not knowing the cause of this commotion, the two men carefully worked their way to the door of the clinic. The usual armed guard was there, but today his presence was augmented by that of another strange character. A long pony-tailed blond man in mirrored shades, wearing a shoulder holster packed with a couple of pistols and cradling a machine gun, was also guarding the door.

"Who are you?" the gunman asked. He stared up at Nowaki, suspiciously; he didn't trust the man's height.

"We're patients here!" Hiroki snapped. He did not at all seem afraid of the other's armaments. "And we have an appointment."

Mirrored shades drifted slightly downwards to reflect the perturbed professor's scowling face.

"Name?"

"Kamijou Hiroki." Hiroki thought the blond man had a weird accent. He must be American. That would certainly explain all the guns. Crazy cowboys. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The blond seemed surprised by the question but answered anyway. "My name is "K" and I'm acting as bodyguard for a client visiting this clinic."

Hiroki snorted. Yep, an American. No other country had people so arrogant as to think they could go around sporting only one name or in this case one letter.

A clipboard seemed to magically appear out of nowhere. K scanned it. "Nope, you're not on the list." K looked at the agitated individual in front of him. "Sorry, but no one gets in right now who's not on the list."

"This is ridiculous!" Hiroki fumed. "This is a medical clinic, not a nightclub!"

K, manager, turned bodyguard, turned bouncer, began to ready himself for a confrontation with this annoying uke.

"Check under Kusama," Nowaki offered as he placed a calming hand on his partner's shoulder. Hiroki promptly shook it off.

"Oh, yeah, Kusama, got it right here." K found himself re-evaluating his earlier thoughts about the taller man. It was obviously the shorter one that he needed to watch out for. "But I'm going to need to see your ID too, please."

Nowaki could tell that Hiroki was about to go off, so he quickly took out his wallet and handed his ID to K. "Hiro-san, please, let's just go inside." His tone was simultaneously cajoling and pleading.

The Kamijou brow was mightily furrowed, but Hiroki begrudgingly complied, handing over his identification as well.

"Hey, hold on here a minute." The gunslinger looked suspiciously at Hiroki. "Why is the appointment under Kusama if you're Kamijou?"

Nowaki was worried that his semuke status was in jeopardy of being revealed with all the press milling about but Hiroki intervened.

Even though his explanation brought a furious blush to his cheeks Hiroki pretended the appointment was for him. "Because I always make my appointments under my husband's name!" It was only the fact that the man was holding a machine gun that kept Hiroki from adding "idiot" at this point.

"Get current!" Hiroki growled, sounding terribly offended.

K, for once, was momentarily humbled. He handed the men back their identification with a half muttered apology and even held the door for the pair as Hiroki and Nowaki entered the clinic.

"Hiro-san…" Nowaki was now glowing. "You called me your husband."

"Yes. So?"

"I liked it. Just think, in a few months, we'll really be able to call each other that all the time."

Hiroki could practically see the sparkles and flowers hovering like a halo around Nowaki's head. He in turn just blushed a deeper shade of red and said nothing.

The waiting room was surprisingly empty. Only one other couple was present. Nowaki remarked on this when he returned from checking in.

"Maybe the other patients didn't want to wade through the media frenzy?" Hiroki suggested.

As they sat down to wait, Hiroki found himself studying the couple on the other side of the room. Nowakih picked up a magazine on interior decorating and was flipping through it halfheartedly, when Hiroki gave him a gentle nudge with his elbow. "Hey, Nowaki, I think I know that guy."

"The one with the pink hair? Yes, that's Shindou Shuichi, the lead singer of Bad Luck." Nowaki said this as though he saw pop stars every day.

"No, not him the other. Wait, what's Bad Luck?"

"It's a music group, Hiro-san."

"Nowaki, how do you know this stuff?" Hiroki was always impressed by Nowaki's knowledge of popular culture, though not so much by his tastes in it. "Anyway, I was talking about the other one. I think that might be Yuki Eiri, the novelist."

"Oh?" Nowaki looked at the man next to Shindou. Yuki was slumped down in a chair looking completely bored and more than slightly put upon. Meanwhile his pink-haired partner was obviously having difficulty containing his energy. The petite young man was wiggling all over and practically bouncing up and down in his seat.

"Sit still, Brat!" Yuki ordered. Though his voice was cool and even, it obviously carried a lot of weight, as the youth next to him immediately tried to stop his energetic twitching.

"But, Yuki, isn't this exciting! We might be having a baby!" Shuichi exclaimed.

"We don't know that yet for sure," The blond author said. "Besides, I wouldn't act so excited. Do you know what Tohma is going to do if you are and you have to cancel your next tour because you're knocked up?" He took a cigarette out of a pack in his pocket and rolled it between his fingers.

Shuichi deflated slightly at his lover's harsh words. Then seeing him take out the cigarette, he became animated once more. "Yuki, you can't light that in here!"

"I know that, Brat! It'd almost be worth it to go outside and face the pap to be able to light up right now. I don't understand why we had to come here anyway. I could have taken you to a much more exclusive practice, Shuichi."

"I told you, Yuki, Doctor Wantanabe is good and he's a family friend. Besides, I thought coming someplace like this would draw less attention."

"Well, that plan obviously worked," Yuki scoffed. He put the unlit cigarette in his lips, hoping to obtain some nicotine by osmosis.

Watching the bickering couple on the other side of the room Nowaki frowned. "What is it with so many semes and smoking?"

"It's Freudian." Hiroki eyed Yuki somewhat disdainfully; personally, he was not that impressed with the man's books.

"What?"

"A cigarette, psychoanalytically speaking can be read a phallic symbol, a visual articulation of masculinity."

Hiroki looked at Nowaki's still confused face. "Metaphorically, it's another way for them to wave their dicks around."

"Hiro-san."

"What?"

"I don't smoke."

"Yes, and it's a good thing, it's a filthy habit." Then Hiroki looked at Nowaki and realized what was going on with this conversation. Ever since Nowaki had received his semuke diagnosis he had become increasingly sensitive to seme/uke stereotypes.

Perhaps it was because of where they were at a clinic that catered to the needs of yaoi men, or the fact he just wanted Nowaki not to question himself, but Hiroki uncharacteristically placed his hand high on his partner's thigh and gave it a light squeeze. "Besides, Nowaki, if you think of it as some sort of symbolic compensation, there's no reason why you would ever need to."

As soon as Nowaki realized what his lover was saying he grinned and set his own large hand over Hiroki's.

"Hiro-san?"

"Hmmmm."

Nowaki nodded over towards Yuki, who was now trying to placate a pouting Shuichi. "If a cigarette is symbolic of a cock, what does it mean that…" Yuki's unlit cigarette dangled loosely from one corner of his mouth.

"You're a seme, Nowaki," Hiroki sighed. "Figure it out."

Just then the nurse opened the door and called out Nowaki's name.

Disclaimer: I do not own "Gravitation" or any of its characters.

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