Disclaimer: We all know I don’t own Gravitation. I also like to point out I am not an advocate for smoking or drinking but the two fit so well with Yuki’s character that I had to play it up. Thanks for reading!

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I need a drink.

So many choices to choose from: vodka; rum; scotch? The beer on tap won't cut it this time. Tonight calls for hard liquor. Nothing on the rocks or garnished with olives, tiny pearl onions or worms needed. They'll only take up space in the glass. Maybe the bartender will mix all the liquids together for me if I tip him enough. Hell, that's how they'll end up in my stomach once I start downing them. Throughout our drive to the hotel I kept trying to think of some way to make a last ditch effort to get out of my situation and Kyoto entirely, but the closer we came to our destination I realized it was all futile for the evening. It didn't help with Ryuichi's incessant chatter ranging from "Let's sing a car song" to "Do you want to hold Kumagorou Mr. Yuki?" According to the Lord our God Sakuma, the mangy pink toy would make everything better.

What's to make better? You mean I didn't look the epitome of Zen? Why, I could have taken the bunny and made stuffed animal road kill. I could have thrown myself out into oncoming traffic as Ryuichi sped down the road like Speed Racer, but I didn't. Let's get to our destination as fast as possible I say! I'm not driving anywhere tonight. My poor baby of a car sitting in that dirty parking lot of Motel Rat Hole is evidence of that. So what else is there for me to do but to find a place to drink myself into a stupor. I can finish off my liver for a sweet death or at least make me forget the company I am keeping.

Still, I've got to admit one thing about the little spazzes: they have better tastes in lodging than my brother.

We pull up to a five star hotel that towered up into the night sky. I don't even bother for the valet to open my door as I exit on my own and head right inside without the Dynamic Duo. There are fountains on the grounds, chandeliers from the ceiling and pricey furniture in the lobby but I don't pay any attention to their details for I make a beeline right to the bar, hoping it is still open at this late hour.

It is! Finally the first thing that has gone right all day! And to top it off, there is barely anyone in the joint with the exception of the bartender and a few patrons at the tables. Despite the cheesy hotel piano music playing out of the overhead speakers, I've got peace and quiet.

I plop myself in the darkest corner of the bar and simply sit there for a few minutes enjoying my solitude. It’s almost too good to be true. I make sure that Tatsuha isn’t shadowing me or any other relatives are in my current location. Nope, it’s Uesugi family free! I signal for the bartender. "Double scotch," I order, no longer having to entertain the thought of asking for a shot of arsenic in it.

"Hey Yuki," Shuichi greets as he plops down into the bar chair next to mine.

Perhaps I shouldn't nix the arsenic entirely.

As the bartender sets the brown liquid in it's glass housing before me, I grab his forearm and warn sternly, "Don't go too far."

"Oh yeah, I'll have something too," Shuichi chimes. "Whatever you have on tap." He must have thought I was stopping the presently startled man to take his order. Well if he wants to join me in a future douse of poison who am I to stop him?

So as I let the bartender scurry away and down my first drink of the night (yep, I'm already waving for a refill), I can't help but notice that the scene still remains serene and sans the sound of endless jibber-jabber. Even Shuichi's tone in the range of normal people conversation. I'm almost afraid to ask but I just have to know: "Where's your partner in crime?"

"Sakuma?" he questions (like I'd be talking about anyone else). "He's amazing Yuki! First he tips the valet guy an insane amount of money to pretend like he never saw us. Then he pulls aside the hotel manager and is able to completely bypass the scary check-in girls at the counter. And look..." He fumbles in his pocket to slip out a plastic card and slide it over to me. "Here's your key. He got us our own room and not just any room but the penthouse. Isn't he the best?"

When the bartender returns with our drinks I don't feel the need to scowl and fracture a tibia. While hearing how wonderful the almighty Ryuichi Sakuma is can warrant an eye roll and a retreat in the opposite direction of the Sea of Adoration, I decide to bask in it for a moment. The penthouse? Not bad at all, you little spazzy bastard. I take a moment to pick up the card and tap it on the counter with a twinge of anticipation. This evening could possibly turn around in the very near future. A nice big bed would be the ideal improvement for sleeping over my previous night's chair adventure.

Wait a minute Eiri! my brain screams. You're a young, virile man with a hot boyfriend at a hotel and you're thinking about sleeping? Ponder the other possibilities!

"I guess it'll do," I comment, downplaying my rising excitement.

Shuichi nods his head. "Yeah, and Sakuma will be in the room right next door. He already went to bed."

And there goes the excitement.

"Yuki?" he asks with concern as I put the card in my pants pocket. "Why are you slumping back in you chair?"

"No reason," I grumble with a quick swill of my drink to follow. The Lord giveth with one hand and taketh with the other.

Obviously sensing my displeasure, he puts his hand over mine, his fingers slightly chilled from holding his cold drink. "You know, I'm glad you're here. I really am."

I don't pull away for the soft touch of his skin on mine sends a sensation up my arm. "Oh? I thought with the whole car--"

"No no no," he interrupts, taking back his hand and swatting it in the air as if my comment were a fly. "Tonight there'll be no talk of that or work or anything else that will ruin our drinks. Okay?"

"Fine by me," I accept. How wonderful it is that he is giving me a break. Drained is the best word that describes how I feel. If he really wants to do me a favor, he will let us sit in silence until I'm too tired to even drink.

"Yuki, can I ask you a question?"

Getting what I want is not the theme of today. After a rub of my eyes and a deep inhale I rest my cheek against my fist and say, "Why not?"

He hesitates to swallow a swill of beer and then shifts his seat parallel to the bar to face me head on. Maybe I should order another drink if he is about to drop a surprise on me. "Remember at the motel when you said you knew why Sakuma was there?"

"Uh-huh," I voice with little care.

"How come you weren’t…" He pauses, looking at me hard as if he wants me to finish his question.

"What?" I ask edgily, wanting him to hurry up and spit out whatever it is.

He sighs with pursed lips before finally completing with, "Jealous?"

Maybe I'm getting a little buzz off the scotch or maybe I'm more exhausted and not in my right mind, but something is happening that I haven't done in a while and I can't help but to express what I'm feeling.

I laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh some more.

Shuichi looks as surprised as I feel. "Yuki?"

Remembering I was in a public place, I managed to control myself and lower my hard to contain chuckles. "Oh my God! I thought I was only imagining that disappointment on your face. You are actually unhappy that I wasn't jealous?"

"I don't know," he says. "You just sound toosure."

"I saw the note you left with Tatsuha," I clarify. "He’s clearly here because of that damn lunch.”

“Oh,” he says with recollection.

“Come on…” I mutter. “You and Ryuichi Sakuma?"

He stiffens in his chair and his surprised expression changes into an angered puzzlement. "What?"

I rub my knuckles roughly over my mouth to lessen the smile that had appeared, looking at my glass instead of him because I feared I wouldn't maintain my composure. "That idea never even came to my mind. Sheesh, if anything the two of you together would like some strange science experiment gone awry."

"What is that suppose to mean?" he asks, sounding very insulted.

So much for not ruining our drinks.

"I know you wouldn't do something like to me," I explain, trying to appease him. "Unless you've been considering the idea?"

"Of course not!" he loudly declares before lowering his voice. "I wouldn't let anyone but you touch me like that."

"It's not in you," I add, now able to risk a glimpse at him. "Besides, that God of yours would have to be the one to initiate it and I think he's too naive to do that."

"Why would he have to initiate it?" he questions with his returning animosity.

"Like I said, it isn't in you," I answer, finishing off my drink. "You might have the ability to put yourself out there when it comes to business but when it comes to any sort of sex or romance you always need the other person to start it."

"That's not true," he denies.

"Oh?" I begin to retort. "Let me count the ways of our relationship: First kiss?"

"Yes, that was you," he concedes.

"And first time we banged?"

"It was you," he utters with exasperation, before his voice rises to add, "but I never had been with a guy so I think we can cut me a little slack on that."

I shake my head. “Excuse.”

"Hey!" he interjects, pointing his finger at me, "let us not forget who made the move to move-in with someone."

How quickly one can distort the facts. "You showing up my apartment one day and deciding not to leave I hardly count as--"

"The fact remains that I did," he interrupts as if he's actually bested me. "And the fact remains that I could pick up plenty of girls before I knew you."

On cue my eyes roll.

"Hey I saw that!" he groans. "It's true, and I was good at it! I could have picked up a guy too if I wanted."

"Blah blah blah," I mutter.

"You don't think I could do it?" he asks as if challenged, a smile forming. "You really don't think I could make a guy want to go back to my room with me?"

I say nothing and do nothing.

"Okay," he says, swinging his seat in the opposite direction. "I'll take that dare."

Now I never said that I was challenging him but I didn't find myself stopping him either. It will only take a few seconds for him to chicken out, using the excuse that he didn't want to hurt my feelings or that all the patrons in the bar looked creepy. Yep, there he is, looking from side-to-side, pausing on each person he comes across to consider his potential candidate.

Like I had noticed earlier there aren't many people from which to choose:

There is the token mix of Japanese and foreign business men at a corner booth drinking. He might increase his chance at a yes with higher odds. It would be a hoot if he would slink over and scare them into thinking this respectable establishment is a male escort bar. It's not going to happen it seems as he quickly dismisses them and moves on to the next set.

Pairs of patrons are scattered from table-to-table finishing up their meals and night caps but they are namely straight couples. Not only does he risk the girls announcing, "Shuichi Shindou oh my God," but also the guys punching out his lights. It could be the other way around should a guy actually be receptive to his advances. Luckily no girls will need to ruin their nail polish clawing his eyes out this evening.

There are a few waiters sitting around with nothing to do except moan-and-groan that we'd all get out so they can go home. Once again his odds increase at the chance one of them being interested. Nevertheless, he moves on.

Some older guy at the other end of the bar is looking miserable. Can't say what his story is but the writer in me creates one. Perhaps he found his girlfriend in the arms of another man and is thinking suicidal intentions over what will be his final tequila. Then a young beau approaches him, saying all the things he's ever wanted to hear. His drunken intoxication gets the better of him and his thoughts are consumed with the light that walked into his life. He'll show that hussy that he now he has someone to live for and that someone is Shuichi Shindou! Convinced his future is with this remarkable lifesaver of a man, the stranger is determined to possess him; however, the rival and obstacle of Shuichi's existing lover (that would be me) keeps him from the object of his desire. By the end there will be two murders and a suicide. Good for a story; bad business for us.

Thankfully our lives are spared as he moves on to the only man left in the room: the bartender. If forced to make a choice the server wouldn't be an awful one. He is pretty good looking: dark hair; creamy skin; nice build. Only problem is with me sitting next to Shuichi I'm sure that one glare would make him fearful of the damage I’d incur to his mixing arm.

In perspective the slim pickings aren't the problem. It's that he will not be able to do it in front of me no matter how much he acted. I must say that I'm actually happy at that fact. Should he somehow succeed in picking up a guy, I feel that the jealousy he so much wanted to have seen earlier would cause me to do something very stupid. I like being the only guy who has claim to him. That sounds sort of possessive yes, but I want him to only be mine.

And me his.

With one last look over of the room I straighten up in my chair and take a deep, satisfying breath. Here it comes. Shuichi is about to give up and say that I'm right.

And so he turns his seat and opens his mouth to say...

"Hi."

Huh? Hi? That's not a concession.

"My name is Shuichi Shindou and I was wondering if I could buy you a drink."

Is he...

He smiles and cocks his head to the side. "I hope I'm not disturbing you but I saw your glass was empty and you looked like a guy who needed a refill after a hard day."

He makes a wave to the bartender and orders me a scotch while I just sit there dumbfounded yet amused.

"You did want scotch, right?" he asks as the bartender gives me another glass and walks away.

"Hold on," I disrupt. "Are you picking me up?"

"You're the one who dared me," he answers, breaking out of character. "Who else would be a better challenge?"

I think at that very moment I grew fonder of him. What a clever little thing despite knowing I would make success improbable. I can't let him embarrass himself. Sure I could pretend but he'd know I was lying.

"I'd drop this little act," I suggest. "There's no need--"

"Are you scared that I could pick you up?" he asks. He leans over and lowers his voice. "You're the only guy in the room I want. I'm going to get you."

Such a confident matter of fact statement… Approached by both girls and guys I have been, but it is always I who have taken control and made the decision for further advancements. This could be stupid, but I am intrigued. "All right. If you want to do this, go ahead. I'm not going to be easy you know."

"Aw," he whispers with a smirk. "That's too bad you're not easy. We could've gone right to the room if you were."

Very funny.

"Like I said, I'm Shuichi Shindou," he introduces back in character, extending a hand.

"Going for the celebrity name drop," I degrade, unable to get into the spirit of this fully. "That’s not going to work on me."

"Celebrity?" he repeats, taking back his offered hand to point at himself. "You're thinking I'm that good looking guy who heads up that band, don't you? What's its name? Bad Luck? Common mistake. I get it all the time. I know there's some resemblance and he has my name, but I am not that lucky, handsome fellow."

"Oh no?" I question, swirling the liquid in my glass.

"Nah," he says. "Just a coincidence."

I drape an arm over my chair's back. "I see. Is this where I'm supposed to say, ‘My name is Eiri Yuki, not to be confused with the devilishly successful writer?’"

"Get out of town!" he exclaims with fake shock. "What are the odds?"

"Buying me a drink and not playing the celebrity card is nice, but you've probably lost your only opening in convincing me I should remain talking to you," I comment.

His smile diminishes and he turns to face the bar. "You said not to name drop and being a gentleman doesn't work with you. What else am I suppose to do?"

After taking a swill of his beer he slightly raises his right hip and pulls up the hem of his T-shirt. "Going for the whore card?" I joke. "I'm disappointed but if that’s the best you can do--"

"No," he firmly cuts short, removing an item out of his pocket. "If you don't want to play then I won't bother trying. I'll just do what other people do at a bar."

You'd think right there and then I would either get on his case for being a baby or throw him a bone for at least trying to talk me up; however, I am preoccupied at the moment. On the counter he places the most wonderful little present in the entire world. My hand twitches. My mouth grows dry. My breath catches in my throat and I exhale with the tiniest sigh. Shuichi Shindou is not fooling around. He is no mere singer in a pop-rock band. He isn't just my lover anymore. He is an evil genius, for what lay on the counter was a fresh, unopened box of my favorite brand of cigarettes.

Normally he would not dare smoke and put his treasured voice at risk. Plus I'd snatch one out of his mouth if I caught him smoking because I didn't like him doing it. I know I'm not one to talk when he rides my case for the same thing. However, right now I don't mind.

He takes the tiny white box and peels the strip of cellophane around it. I can't tell if he is purposely doing it slowly to taunt me or if I am filled with so much anticipation that it seems like he is taking his time. The plastic falls away from the package and twinkles under the bar's lights. Next he cracks open the head of the box on the side, pushing it back to reveal the army of soldiers standing at attention. He reaches for a package of matches in the bowl beside him. It would take only one to do the job of lighting the singular stick he pulls out and holds between his soft fingers, but I became aware of the silver lighter in my pocket as if it suddenly was a thousand times heavier. Yes, the flame from it had to do the honors of that initial light.

"May I get that for you, Mr. Shindou?" I offer, taking out the lighter and flicking the wheel for the fire to ignite. If I lean any closer to him I will probably fall out of my seat.

Yep, I am now his bitch. Hell, he could do whatever he wants to do with me at this point if he would just surrender one of those pretty cigarettes to me. I don't even care that he was holding out on me. I think he knows it too. He has me in character and I am open to whatever flirting he wants to throw my way. If I have to finesse for the two things I want this evening then so be it.

Bringing the white stick to his mouth he takes a drag as I lit the end, the little red flame burning. A gray swirl of smoke is what he blows out in my direction with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. What did I want more? To have that cigarette in his hand or to be that cigarette near his mouth? Maybe he's not so bad at this flirting thing after all because to me he's never looked sexier.

"Call me Shuichi, Mr. Yuki," he requests.

"Informal for someone I just met," I say, "but if you insist. Shuichi it is. You can call me Yuki."

"Not Eiri?" he mopes.

I shake my head. "I suppose you could but it reminds me too much of being scolded by my family. Just Yuki is fine."

"Okay... Yuki," he repeats with a small laugh. He must see the absurdity in this scenario, but he started it so now he's going to have to follow through with it. "So what is a handsome man like you doing all alone in a bar like this?"

Why indeed. "I came looking for someone. Now I'm stuck here due to unfortunate circumstances."

He taps the ashes from his cigarette into the ash tray. "Sorry to hear that. I’m going to do my best to raise your spirits."

I swallow what's remaining of the liquid in my glass and he gestures toward the bartender as if to ask if I want another, but I simply gesture back that I don't want anymore. I thought I was going to need the entire bottle when I came in here but now I don't feel the need to drink myself senseless. If I'm going to be flirting I want to be in control of my faculties. "I know what would make this evening better."

Shuichi looks up at the ceiling and mumbles, "Who's the whore now?"

"I meant a cigarette, Brat," I snap.

He chuckles and purposely grabs the pack off the table and pockets it. "Aw, name calling isn't very attractive."

I sigh and rub the back of my neck. He's going to make me beg for it isn't he? Playing by the rules is the only way to get through to him. "I'm sorry."

"Couldn't miss the opportunity to throw that back in your face," he says, before clearing his throat and getting back to his act. "So Yuki, would you like a cigarette?"

"Yes," I answer, trying not to sound too eager.

He takes a small puff from the one in his hand, watching me intently and making no move to retrieve the object which I desire from his pocket. If not for holding my empty glass my hand wouldn't know what to do with itself. Normally I could better control myself with my smoking habit. I don't always need a smoke; however, right now I felt slightly like a junkie. I want that damn cigarette. If I have to yank him right out of that chair and bend him over my knee to get that pack...

Wait a minute. Is that what he wants me to do? Is this some sort of retaliation for the scene with the keys in the garage? Or is he just trying to get me to grab him so he can gloat about being able to pick me up so easily? Maybe it's just my nicotine craving putting conspiracies in my head.

Taking the cigarette from his mouth, he flips the lit end towards himself, extends the other end to me and says, "Here. I'm afraid I bought the pack for someone else so I can only offer you this used one."

An indirect kiss, I think. Not bad. I'm finding it very seductive. I accept the stick and savor the long drag of smoke filling my lungs. I know it’s unhealthy. I know it's a disgusting habit. Maybe one day I'll finally give it up 100, but at this moment I'm having the best cigarette in my entire life. It's the one thing Shuichi and I've shared today that hasn’t made me want to kill someone and I'm going to enjoy it.

From the corner of my eye I can see he is trying to hide his amusement behind his glass. He is very cute. I wonder what would have happened if this were the first place we had ever met. Would I be so receptive to his advances? Perhaps not as I'd probably be too rude with my dark mood to give him the time of day. How stupid I would have been. Well, I'm not going to make that mistake this evening.

"Thank you," I say, snuffing the cigarette out in the ash tray.

He becomes puzzled. "What's the matter?"

"I don't like to share," I answer, turning my full attention on him. He shrinks back slightly under my hungry gaze. "I don't want just the one cigarette from the intended owner of that pack. I want all of them."

All he manages to say is a nervous "What" before I lean over with a cool smile and place an arm on the back of his chair.

"In fact," I continue as I remove the glass of beer from his grasp and place it on the counter, "I’m jealous of the intended owner if he has someone as adorable as you serving them up. I can’t help but wonder what you do to him to warrant such devotion."

He swallows hard and his eyebrows furrow. "Yuki, those cigarettes are for you."

Suppressing the need to sigh I grab the sleeve of his T-shirt to gently pull him closer to me. I've clearly frightened him out of character and need to get him back on track. "Shuichi, I know the cigarettes are for me. I'm giving you a window of opportunity to make this infamous move you were alluding to earlier. I suggest you don't miss this slim chance I'm giving you." I lower my voice into a whisper and put my lips next to his ear. "Now. Pick. Me. Up."

I sit back, waiting for him to do something; say something; anything. At first all he does is study my face. Saying what I said probably made him more apprehensive with pressure, but after my soothing smoke and having him so close to me I want to move along with this fantasy. I am becoming impatient but I want him to want it too. If events unravel as I hoped they would, we both will enjoy what is to come.

"Your hair..." he says softly, reaching over to brush some strands from my forehead. "It's gotten long." Those violet eyes of his have changed from playful to lustful.

“How would you know?” I inquire. “We’ve just met.”

“You’ve cooped yourself up in your office instead of going out,” he continues. “You’ve been working too hard. You’ve changed during our time apart. What have I been missing?”

I realize he’s not playing anymore. The timber of his voice has become sensuous and there is a flush in his cheeks. One beer hasn't made him drunk. His mind is working overtime with the beginning of pleasurable thoughts. He's got an idea, but he is making meaningless chit chat because he doesn't know what to do next. I know him all too well.

"If it bothers you I can get it cut," I say, joining in his chatter.

"No, it's fine," he assures, waving for the bartender's attention. "It's just more of you to grab."

Move made.

"Leave some money on the counter and let's go," I propose more than order.

"So you're saying you want to go back to my room with me?" he questions, tossing enough bills to cover our drinks and a very generous tip.

Standing up, I hold out my hand and he happily puts his in mine. Walking hand-in-hand is a public display of affection I don't usually do, but he has earned it. I can only hope the elevator ride to our room doesn't taking too long.