05-Aug-2002 (actual writing started 21-March-2002)
Kaikan Phrase: Duet
by Yoiko and bonnejeanne
Contact: mightyyoiko@hotmail.com, bonnejeanne@yahoo.com
Pairings: Sakuya x Yuki
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spoilers, Yaoi, Lemon to come
Notes: This RP based story has been ongoing in my LiveJournal for some months now. Have no idea where it's headed, or how long it will continue but I wanted to start putting some of it out because I like it. As an RP type thing, Yoiko is responsible for Yuki, and also for his father, Towa, and in the opening, Atsuro. I'm managed to stick mainly with Sakuya, and a brief appearance by Santa.
Note to Alma: If the prolog looks familiar, it is. This is the second part of that KP RR you tried to get started on the list, which never went further than part 2, so I wiped that part 2 off and reused it. Hope you've no objections! ^^;;
Part Two
"NO! Where's your concentration?!" Todo-san bellowed.
"Sorry, Father," Yuki said, bowing humbly.
"I do not want *apologies.* I want *perfection!* You're capable of much better than that!"
"Yes, Father," Yuki said, and began again, forcing himself to concentrate on moving just so, precision and grace and tradition all bound together. He hoped Sakuya was all right... and that Towa was still all in one piece...
"CONCENTRATE!" his father yelled, and Yuki forcibly turned his thoughts back to Noh. For all he knew, Sakuya could very well be sleeping peacefully by now.
Oddly enough, Yuki's supposition wasn't too far from the truth. The pill took the edge off the pain from his leg, as well as the other bruises and scrapes, and lethargy finally began to seep through his tired frame. He thought with brief, distant longing about a shower but shoved the impulse out of the way. He was too tired after the stairs to struggle with it, and he preferred not to involve Towa. After shifting a couple of times he finally fell asleep, mildly comforted by being back in his own room. In sleep, strange thoughts drifted through his mind, and he dreamed about silent figures pacing with ceremonial rhythm around in his bare apartment. Then he realized he wasn't in his room, he was standing on a bare stage, with the strange figures still moving in careful patterns around him. There was no music except the occasional thump of drums, to the accompaniment of which he found himself singing the new song.
A soft humming came and went from the young man as he napped, enough notes audible to be recognized by the sharp ears of the composer.
The dream changed again after an indeterminate time and Sakuya found himself on his bike, on the road in the rain. Just before his front wheel hit the patch of water and he began to skid, a figure loomed up in his headlights, long dark hair and dark eyes, and he wrenched the wheel hard to the right to avoid hitting him.
"Everything Ok here?" Yuki whispered. Sakuya gasped, and Yuki saw that he seemed to be fighting in his sleep, his body twitching violently while his face screwed up in a grimace.
"He just started dreaming," Towa whispered back. "I didn't know whether to wake him..."
"I'll take care of it. Thanks," Yuki said, and crossed the room a little hesitantly as Towa quietly left.
"Sakuya?" Yuki asked softly, reaching out to lay a hand on one tense shoulder.
Blue eyes startled open and a pair of hands seized Yuki's arms. Sakuya stared at the guitar player for several heartbeats struggling out of the dream and the adrenaline shot it left behind. Relaxing slowly, Sakuya's eyes darted around the room, looking for spectators, relieved to find none.
"No more damn pills," he muttered, shifting into a slightly more comfortable position.
Yuki sighed. "You really do need them," he said. "Aspirin won't help you sleep, and you need rest to heal. But I'll call the doctor in the morning and see if there aren't any alternatives. Ok?"
Sakuya ran his hand through his hair, feeling the moisture at the roots from a cold sweat while sleeping. "Do you do everything you are supposed to?" Then a slight cynical smile curved his lips. "Now that I think of it, I suppose you do. But it doesn't explain why you bother with the band. Or is that your solitary act of defiance?"
/My solitary act of *freedom,*/ Yuki thought. He smiled wryly and said, "Something like that."
Sakuya studied Yuki for a moment longer and then decided quite consciously that he was not going to care about it, so why bother to be curious.
Pulling himself up, he reached for the crutches and hauled himself to his feet, maneuvering into the small bathroom. Peeing while on crutches was interesting. Likewise getting the shorts off, though thanks to the deep side slit it wasn't too difficult. The undershirt came off next as he examined the chair arrangement in the shower. Practical. Leaving the bathroom door half open, he turned on the water and adjusted it to a comfortable temperature, leaning on one crutch to move the shampoo to a more convenient surface to reach from a sitting position. This whole thing really sucked. He was conscious of the presence of the other young man not far away, discovering that it was easier to think about that than how frustrating it was to be hobbled in this way.
"Do you need any help?" Yuki called, carefully *not* looking through the bathroom door despite the almost irresistible urge to do so; he decided that while Sakuya was out of bed, he might as well change the sheets. "I tried to arrange things so they'd be convenient for you."
A slightly evil smile painted itself on the singer's face. This would be a good opportunity to find out something he did want to know about the cultured guitar player.
"Yes," he called, just loud enough to be heard over the water and through the half open door.
/Yes, he needs help?!?/ Yuki dropped the bundle of sheets and hurried to the bathroom.
Sakuya... Sakuya was...
"Wh-what do you need?" Yuki asked, forcing his eyes to focus on Sakuya's, and stay there. He tried manfully to maintain a neutral expression, but he could feel a blush warming his cheeks and ears. He hoped that Sakuya wouldn't notice.
He did, however. And it had the unfortunate result of pleasing him. Or perhaps it would be better to say, pleasing that part of him that had the evil impulse to ask for help in the first place.
Sitting on the chair in the tub, he'd lathered and rinsed his body and was attempting to wash his hair. A bruise on his right shoulder made it painful to lift his arm for very long. Had he been alone he would have managed. But the opportunity was too convenient.
"Better take off your shirt, you'll get it wet," he said, keeping his voice neutral as he tilted his head back to try and keep the shampoo out of his eyes.
"That's all right, if it does," Yuki said, moving behind Sakuya and rolling up his sleeves. He'd been bed-ridden himself, as a child, and he knew how much just being *clean* could raise a patient's morale. His long fingers gently massaged Sakuya's scalp as they worked the shampoo into a thick lather. "I was going to change soon anyway, and get ready for bed. And I can always toss this in with the laundry if I need to."
Sakuya relaxed into the guitar players hands. The massage felt good. Being clean felt better. His eyes closed, as he enjoyed the sensations. Yuki's fingers were strong enough - they didn't feel like a woman's hands, which suited the singer. A part of him experienced a very slight amount of frustration as Yuki's reply showed his return to that practical mind set that kept him so evenly balanced. It was going to take more effort to disrupt that balance. But that was okay.
He let his hand rest on his thigh, something that could draw a casual eye downwards if it were so inclined. He didn't quite have the guitar player's measure but he was going to get it.
Yuki's fingers paused in their work, and he found himself blushing again. "You... might want to close your eyes, so I can rinse this out," he said, and if there was the slightest hint of huskiness to his voice... well, it couldn't be helped.
Sakuya smiled slightly. "My eyes are closed," he said. With his eyes closed, he could imagine that Yuki had gone with his suggestion and removed his shirt. He could go further and imagine the tall guitar player was standing behind him nude, washing his hair with that careful attention. The visualization was enough to send blood down to his lap, stirring his flesh.
Yuki's eyes widened, and he deliberately forced his attention to Sakuya's thick, dark hair, and rinsing it thoroughly. He knew very well that Sakuya had a lady-friend; if the singer had been mewed up in the hospital all this time, he was undoubtedly thinking about her, and missing her... companionship. Perhaps Yuki would need to arrange for Sakuya to have some time alone in the apartment, after all...
He studiously ignored the answering throb in his own groin, and was grateful for the concealment of his jeans and the untucked shirt he wore. By the time he'd finished rinsing Sakuya's hair, he'd regained enough of his composure to be able to say, "There, I think that's got it," and sound fairly normal.
Sakuya opened his eyes slowly, looking up at Yuki through his dark lashes. "Arigato," he said, the slight smile still curving his lips. He held the guitar player's eyes for a longer moment before sitting up and carefully getting himself out of the tub. Balancing with a hand on the chair, he used the other to towel himself in the most superficial manner. He snagged the cut offs from the floor but didn't worry about working them on. If he'd been alone he wouldn't have bothered. It suited him to see what he could get away with and what the effects would be.
"Give me just a few minutes," Yuki said. "I didn't get to finish changing the sheets yet." He hurried out of the bathroom, grateful for something to do *besides* stand there like a ninny and gape at Sakuya as though he'd never seen a naked man before!
Sakuya controlled the urge to chuckle. He glanced in the bathroom mirror before leaving the room, sticking out his tongue briefly. Between the cast and the bruises and scrapes, if he could manage this... it would be a reasonable accomplishment. Still he'd found it often wasn't the looks so much as managing to cut through the person's veneer of civilized behavior that made the difference. Yuki was one of the most civilized people he'd met, which made it more of a challenge. But he had weaknesses. His persistence with the band indicated that.
The cut-offs dangling from one hand, Sakuya came into the room on crutches, watching Yuki finish making the bed. There was something about the way the guitar player had been behaving that suddenly clicked. He'd had some familiarity with illness or nursing. Interesting.
Yuki, meanwhile, was intently focused on getting the bed made; he could hear the light thump of the crutches as Sakuya came up behind him, and he didn't want the singer to wait any longer than necessary.
"Ok," he said, as he turned to face Sakuya. "It's all ready. Do you need...help?" This last ended on a squeak as Yuki realized Sakuya was *holding* his shorts. For a long moment, it seemed all the guitarist could do was stare, wide-eyed.
"...Sorry," he said at last, holding onto his tattered composure for all he was worth. "I didn't think to ask if you wanted pajamas."
"I don't wear them," the singer answered, apparently having no reaction to being gawked at. Or none he allowed to show. And he wasn't lying... he didn't always sleep nude, either, but often enough if the weather was warm. "I don't expect you to do everything for me. I'll ask for help when I want it," he added, finally saying it aloud. "So who was it? You? Someone in your family? You seem to know a lot about how to care for a convalescent."
Yuki stepped aside so Sakuya could make a more direct line to the bed, and when he answered it was with evident reluctance. "I have... some experience." It had been years, of course, since he'd taken care of his mother, and years since he himself had needed such care. The memories were painful, and he quickly buried them, focusing instead on gathering his own pajamas and a few necessities.
"If you... if you don't need anything, I'm going to take a shower," he said, forcing himself to meet Sakuya's eyes once more.
Sakuya shrugged slightly in acceptance of Yuki's indirect answer - he certainly wasn't going to object to anyone else's desire to maintain privacy.
To the second remark, he decided to see what reaction a less subtle comment would get. With a slightly ironic smile, he said, "Fine. Need any help?"
Yuki laughed, and said, "I think I can manage. Call if you need me." He left the bathroom door cracked, so he'd be able to hear if Sakuya called him, and then started the water running in the shower as he began to remove his (slightly soggy) shirt. For a moment there, he'd actually thought... but that was insane. Sakuya's question couldn't have been anything more than a surprisingly gentle jibe about his tendency to hover. Well, he'd try not to offer help too often, but it would be a hard impulse to resist.
With a sigh, Yuki kicked off his shoes and wriggled out of his jeans, and stepped into the pounding spray of the shower. The hot water pummeling him felt so good, he couldn't help the soft groan of relief as taut muscles along his shoulders and back relaxed. Noh practice really took a lot out of him on a good day, and this hadn't been a good day.
After a few moments of reveling in pure hedonistic delight, Yuki began quickly and methodically scrubbing himself clean.
Sitting carefully on the bed, Sakuya lay back, the irony forcing a real, self-abasing smile and then a full laugh from his lips. On the one hand, he was starting to get a little frustrated... but that in and of itself pleased his sense of the ridiculousness of human activity. On the other hand, he certainly wasn't bored...
Listening to the water, the smile still hovering at the corners of his mouth, the singer let one hand drift down as his imagination suggested some images of the tall guitar player in his shower. If he hadn't had the cast to deal with there would have been a reasonable likelihood he might have wandered into the bathroom and invited himself into the shower. But without the cast the situation would not have arisen, so to speak. At least he thought it unlikely.
Here's something you can help me with, he thought, feeling very base. Another laugh escaped as it occurred to him that he might manage to get himself ejected from the band after all in spite of their repeated declarations, if the young actor turned out not to be gay or bi.
Yuki had intended to take a quick shower and go to sleep, but the mental image of Sakuya, naked and aroused, plagued him, provoking a less-than-welcome response in his own body. He rinsed the soap away quickly and then, rather than relieve the yearning tension in a more pleasurable way while Sakuya was in earshot, he turned the water to cold and stayed under the stinging spray as long as he could bear it.
He emerged from the shower clean but shiveringly miserable, and dried himself off briskly, pulled on his pajamas, and began blow-drying his hair. The cold water had been effective... but he didn't think he'd be able to stand trying that again!
He was still shivering a little when he stepped out of the bathroom.
Sakuya had utilized the time in a number of ways, one of which had been wiped clean on a corner of the fresh sheet, now tucked under the mattress. Pulling on the cut-offs as the easiest clothing alternative (he didn't want to destroy more than one or two pieces of his small wardrobe), the singer had made his way into the tiny kitchen. Someone had filled his refrigerator and cabinets. After some rummaging, made challenging by the crutches, he'd managed to find his instant coffee and make some. He couldn't carry the cup anywhere and use the crutches at the same time, so he was leaning against the small bar as he sipped the hot, black liquid.
"You look like you could use some coffee," he murmured, observing the guitar player in his pajamas. He couldn't quite keep the corner of his mouth from turning up. "It's kind of late for a cold shower. You could cause a muscle cramp that way."
Yuki's eyes widened, and he blushed. /He *KNOWS*?/ It only took him a moment, though, to regain his poise; he imagined that, over the next few days, he'd get used to being shocked. What he said aloud was simply, "No, thanks, I can't drink coffee this late. I'd be up all night."
The blush was nice. Yuki was probably one of the only people Sakuya knew who was old-fashioned (traditional) enough to actually blush. It was interesting because he was normally so composed and confident.
Finishing the coffee, Sakuya set the mug down on the bar and crossed the space, stopping in front of the guitar player. Gazing into his eyes, he murmured, "There are worse things. You really going to sleep in that sleeping bag?" Before Yuki could make an answer, he leaned closer, dark eyelashes slowly dropping over those blue eyes. His mouth came close to Yuki's and he darted his tongue out to run along Yuki's lower lip. As he leaned back, he prepared for possible reactions of anger, violence, ridicule, and even, given the way things had been going, denial, as his eyes moved back up to meet Yuki's.
Yuki was gaping at him, a little wild-eyed. "You-" he tried to say, but his voice didn't work; he had to clear his throat and try again, and it wasn't easy with those blue eyes looking straight through all his pretenses. "Those pills... Yes, I think I'd better sleep in my sleeping-bag. I'm sure you'll feel very differently in the morning."
A slow smile curved Sakuya's lips. "I suppose you are right. Especially since that's possibly the bluntest brush-off I think I've ever gotten." The expression turned slightly sardonic. "Not that I blame you, considering the shape I'm in."
Yuki was still blushing, but he hadn't backed away. With a great deal of effort, he met Sakuya's eyes directly; there was no point in denying his attraction to Sakuya when it was so painfully obvious. "It's not my fault the drugs are affecting you this way," he said, "but you have to know I'd never take advantage of you like that, Sakuya."
The singer's eyebrows rose. "What a pity," he said, the sardonic smile not leaving his face. "So it's the drugs, then? No other possibility? In that case prepare yourself for a vacation in hell. I'm not self-sacrificing enough to suffer alone."
Yuki sighed, and took a step backward. "I can't imagine what else it could be, but the drugs," he said miserably. "And I'm not trying to make you suffer; I'm here because I want to help. But to... to do anyth--to take advantage of you, that would be unforgivable. After you've slept the drugs off..."
It had probably been more than ten years since Yuki's composure had been rattled so badly.
"The drugs are history, trust me," Sakuya continued to regard Yuki with that ironic smile. "You couldn't take 'advantage' of me if you wanted to. If you're not interested, just say so." He managed a partial shrug even with the crutches. "A simple, 'you aren't my type' would work fine."
Yuki frowned at him, and his blush darkened. "Are you making fun of me, Sakuya? I'll tell you what. Sleep it off. If you still feel the same way in the morning, you can do anything you want with me." /But I think it's more likely that you'll kick me out, when you remember this. When you realize that I want you.../
Sakuya watched the guitar player in silence for a moment. Then he turned and finished the trip back to the bed. "I don't make fun of people." There was a pause. "And I don't repeat offers that are refused. I just drank a large cup of coffee and I'm dead cold sober but this is getting embarrassing. So fine. You're either stupid or you're so deep in the closet you don't want to come out. Good night. Turn the light out when you turn in."
"So. I'm stupid and in the closet, am I?" Yuki asked, crossing the short distance between them and visibly struggling to rein in his temper. Sakuya was the only person he knew who could get under his skin this way, and at the moment he resented that fact. "I'm stupid because I don't want to nail you to the mattress while you're hopped-up on painkillers--and I'm in the closet because I don't want to think about what *your* reaction would be when you came to in the morning! Well, I'll tell you something, since I can't possibly make things worse than they already are. I've wanted you since the first time I saw you, Okochi Sakuya. Since the first time I heard your voice. The only thing stupid about me is that I picked a... a... STRAIGHT MAN to fall for!"
Trembling, Yuki turned and started to unroll his sleeping bag. He couldn't believe he'd *said* that!
A short, almost lazy chuckle answered his outburst. Settling against the pillows, Sakuya mulled over the words even as he added a remark. "Homo-chauvinist. I suppose there is security in such blatant assumptions."
"I am not," Yuki said stiffly. "Need I remind you that, of the two of us, I'm not the one with the... lady friend?"
Another soft laugh answered the remark. "And she's a bit ballsier than you are evidently. So having a 'lady friend' makes me straight? Enlightening."
Sakuya found himself actually relaxing. The guitar player's admission soothed his ego, something he recognized was probably unattractive at the least. Still it gave him something that eased his restlessness.
Yuki stiffened, and stormed across the room to the bed, where he loomed over Sakuya. His dark hair dangled, nearly brushing the singer's smirking lips.
"It has nothing to do with *balls*!" he snapped.
Sakuya gazed up, liking the furious expression on Yuki's face. He reached up and captured a good handful of the guitar player's dark hair. "Then what?" he asked almost idly. "What is it when you want something and you do nothing about it?"
Yuki froze as he felt Sakuya's fingers closing in his hair, and for a long moment he could do nothing but stare, confusion and longing plain in his expression. It would take so little, just the slightest dip forward, to bring his lips into contact with Sakuya's...
The hand in Yuki's hair tightened and pulled, firmly but not roughly until the small distance between them was gone. Sakuya's mouth pressed up very slightly into Yuki's, lips parting to let a warm breath emerge. His eyes had lidded but not closed entirely and he watched the guitar player's face as he kissed him slowly, not deeply, but with a clear invitation for more.
With a broken little moan, Yuki surrendered to the kiss, his eyes sliding shut as his lips parted softly against Sakuya's, tongue darting out to trace over Sakuya's bottom lip. At that moment, he couldn't even bring himself to *care* that Sakuya might not be in his right mind; all he could think of was the feel of Sakuya's lips against his own, the faint taste of coffee and the thrumming of relentless need. One hand braced his weight against the mattress as he leaned in further; the other hand rested, light as a feather, on Sakuya's shoulder.
The singer's mouth opened wider and he captured Yuki's tongue, sucking it inside and twining his own around it. The hand in Yuki's long hair opened and slid deeper into the mass and around Yuki's neck, not allowing him to move back. Kisses were like songs. Some were fast and light, some hard-driving, some slow and insinuating... This one wasn't a love song, more like a sexy come-on, a sultry-tempoed sales pitch to take some dangerous chances and reap a steamy reward. Sakuya could feel himself getting hard again as he tasted the guitar player - he was clean and fine with the hint of a deep well of passion beneath the more refined surface. Once he was certain he'd stirred up that well more than a little, Sakuya slowly relinquished the other man's mouth.
Yuki blinked, dazed, and drew a shaky breath. He couldn't decide whether Sakuya looked smug or serene, but he knew that he himself was completely lost to anything resembling composure or dignity. His heart was still racing from that too-brief taste, and he knew that he probably looked just as thunderstruck as he felt. "What was the question?" he whispered.
"Mine's been answered," Sakuya said, letting his fingers sift through Yuki's dark hair, watching their action. "How about yours?"
"I don't know," Yuki murmured, almost afraid to move lest it break the moment. Maybe there weren't any answers for someone like him, or maybe there had been an answer, and he had missed it or misunderstood. He couldn't bring himself to ask what it all meant; he couldn't bear to have Sakuya laugh at him, not when he was this... shaken. Shaken, and unsure, and more needy than he'd thought possible. He'd never deliberately kissed a man before.
The slight smile was lazy. "The cast is going to be annoying," Sakuya murmured. "But we can improvise. Don't you think?"
TBC