A/N: My thanks to Cowrie, Kira, EverKnightAngel and "Guest" for their reviews of chapter one. The more feedback I get, the more motivation and inspiration I have for this story!

"Defensive Foul, charging on Japan, number 10, Taiga Kagami. One free throw is awarded to number 6, Shintarō Midorima. The foul didn't stop Midorima from scoring those three points, and now on top of that, he's at the free throw line, ready to try for more points. If he makes it, the point gap will close to one."

"It was a poor decision on Team Japan's part to allow this foul to happen this late in the game. Shintarō hasn't missed a single shot he's gotten off in Olympic play…"

Akashi threw his single-breasted wool Armani jacket to the floorboards of the limo as he climbed in. Furihata was right behind him to pick up the fifteen hundred-dollar jacket, smoothing it out before it would have to go to the dry cleaners, again.

"Tell me some good news, Kōki," Akashi said as he folded into the back seat and raised the privacy glass between them and the driver. Furihata took the seat next to him, watching in concern as Akashi fidgeted before settling in a comfortable position.

"The papers came through this morning. It's official: you are now a citizen of the United States of America. Congratulations."

"Fantastic," Akashi sighed, allowing his head to fall on Furihata shoulder. "You'll take care of the rest? All my official document?" It's all going according to plan. Someday… someday, there won't have to be a plan, but that day hasn't arrived yet.

"I had most of it done in preparation; I sent everything else away this morning. There are a few things you'll need to do in person, like your social security card and driver's license, but otherwise…"

"I have the best damn assistant in the world. What did I do to deserve you?"

"Absolutely nothing!" Furihata chuckled. "You beat Murasakibara for the laziest human being on the planet when it comes to anything other than basketball."

"And my studies, our finances, juggling the demands of the NBA and the Akashi Foundation, or an don't forget publicity. I'm diligent in all the things that matter," Akashi teased. It was an old joke between them and Akashi appreciated the gentle ribbing for what it was. "And sex: you must admit, I'm very energetic when it comes to that."

Furihata's eyes darted nervously to the spot where the driver's head would be behind the glass.

"We have absolute privacy back here; I've told you that before and...," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the remarkable little black box that Reo had replaced for them each time a new version came out, "...it's safe to talk freely."

"I know, I know; it's just… we've established our habits to protect us."

"And if we were at home now, I'd kiss you. But seriously, you're the one who has made me lazy; you spoil me, Kōki, every time."

"I'm surprised we haven't heard from your father yet."

"I decided not to play defense with him on this one; I attacked with logic."

"Oh?" Furihata asked, loosening Akashi's tie and then slipping an arm around him, guiding him so that Akashi's rested against him more fully.

"My argument was simple; Japan hasn't done better than ninth place in the modern Olympics. The United States on the other hand has won fifteen gold medals in the same time period. I want that medal; he wants it associated with the Akashi name. It is an honor our family has never had before."

"You are a devious bastard, Jiro."

"If only I was a bastard, life would be much easier. But you continue to love me, nonetheless, neh?"

"Of course I do," he chuckled against the red hair and felt Akashi melt into the gesture.

"What time is our flight?" Akashi mumbled.

"We leave out of LAX at 9:40 on American Airlines. We'll arrive just after 6 am tomorrow morning."

"Excellent, do we have time for dinner at the airport? If we could stop at that Sushi place –"

Akashi's phone rang, filling the car with the stupidly cheery ringtone he'd assigned to the socialite, Maria Johnson.

"If you don't answer it, she'll call me. You know I'm right," Furihata said.

"I know, but you can tell her I'm in a meeting," Akashi dismissed.

"She knows we're on the way to the airport. She knows you're leaving for a few weeks. You should at least say goodbye to your 'girlfriend,' Jiro."

"How many dates have we had?" Akashi sat up. He hated that word, 'girlfriend.' He'd dated half of Southern California's eligible women in an attempt to protect their future.

"Four dates," Furihata answered, grinding his teeth as he did. He didn't need to consult a calendar, he knew, just like he knew that today was Tuesday, because he'd had to stay at home alone during each of those painfully long evenings.

After three rounds of the song, the inside of the car fell silent. After another fifteen seconds, a gentle ding indicated a voice mail message.

Furihata's phone rang next, playing the opening chords of a song that was reassigned every few months to the next woman Akashi dated.

"Break up with her for me, then send her flowers. I'm done with romance for a while; I can be 'single' until after the Olympics, it's only makes sense that I'd want to focus on the games now."

Furihata answered the phone with a happiness in his voice that wasn't forced. His favorite part of being Akashi's assistant was telling the women to get lost.

"Hi, Maria, yes? Oh?" Furihata looked confused, then he smirked at Akashi. "I see, well, I'll tell him." He paused again, listening. "Yes, I, of all people, know how difficult Akashi-sama can be and you're totally right; you've got to look out for you first... What? No, please keep whatever gifts Akashi-sama gave you; he'd want it that way, I'm sure. Thank you, Maria. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help. Goodbye."

"Was I just preemptively dumped?" Akashi asked, laughing.

"Are you devastated?"

"Yes, you must console me, Kōki," Akashi grinned, his red eye sparkled, while his golden eye hazed over with lust.

"I don't care how much you protest that the driver can't see through that glass, Jiro. I'm not having sex with you while the driver is in the car," Furihata insisted, avoiding Akashi's twin gaze.

"I'll settle for sucking you off, then," Akashi said and swung around so he was on his knees between Furihata's thighs.

"I…"

"Try not to make too much noise, Kōki; I can't guarantee he can't hear us," Akashi smirked, before loosening Furihata's belt.