Author: Hawk ClowdDisclaimer: I don't own Gravitation; the series in both anime and manga form belong to Maki Murakami. Likewise, I don't own the United States (although that would be interesting) or the smoking industry. The end.
Blood Type: Smoke -- just like the title!
Warnings: None, excepting all the second-hand smoke.
Author's Notes: Smokers fascinate me. They are constantly moving their hands and fingers or mouthing invisible cigarettes (which is the main reason so many literary characters smoke). I like to make friends with the smokers outside my dorm building and class buildings just so I don't feel like I have to watch them in secret. Also, all the Gravitation fan fiction where Shuichi tries to make Eiri quit smoking bug me for many, many reasons -- one of them being that Japan doesn't have as big a problem with smoking as, say, the United States. This is in no way meant to encourage people to start smoking, but this story is, in a way, my way of expressing my love for the quirks of smokers as well as my response to all of those Eiri-quits-smoking stories.
The problem with the United States, as far as Shuichi could see, was that pretty much every place in the country were geared toward non-smokers. Restaurants, movie theatres, shopping centers... it did not really matter. Smokers, if they wanted to smoke, were either ushered to a special section of the building or temporarily banished and forced outside. They were essentially ostracized from the rest of the world, and even from the company of their friends. This wasn't a problem anywhere else; few buildings in Japan, after all, were biased against smokers.
It was because of this that Shuichi didn't notice quite how much Eiri relied on cigarettes until the two went on a weeklong vacation in the United States. Suddenly they were given disparaging looks for sitting in the smoking section of restaurants. Suddenly Eiri had to get up and leave in the middle of movies or shows in order to go outside and light a cigarette. Suddenly Eiri refused to go inside any stores and, instead, gave Shuichi a list of things to look for so he could wait outside with a cigarette between his lips. It didn't seem fair even to Shuichi.
Eiri, in all fairness, was being an unbelievably good sport about it all. He knew all the smoking rules and followed them without complaint or question. And if he was a little more snappish or irritable than usual... Well, so be it.
Still, it was a little annoying that Eiri had to constantly get up or leave simply so he could smoke, and Shuichi almost wished they could go home early just so Eiri could smoke whenever and wherever he wanted. In lieu of that, Shuichi decided that Eiri had to stop smoking altogether, and that he was the one to instigate the quitting.
He started simple, by holding onto Eiri's arm extra tightly when the writer started to get out of his seat or move outside. Then he learned which restaurants were entirely non-smoking and started to steer Eiri toward those instead of the ones Eiri preferred, the restaurants with smoking sections. He started to offer Eiri sticks upon sticks of gum, stuff that both of them touched only rarely. Shuichi started to "misplace" Eiri's cigarettes and lighters. When that didn't work, he started throwing out Eiri's lighters, with the exception of the one Eiri always kept in his pocket (but that didn't matter, really, because that one didn't work anyway). Then, finally, Shuichi started to flush Eiri's cigarettes. In short, Shuichi tried everything.
The problem, of course, was that Eiri wasn't stupid -- and that was probably why he caught Shuichi in the act of flushing some of the cigarettes in their hotel room. He had gone down the hall to get more ice and returned to the room while Shuichi was pitching cigarette after cigarette down the toilet. He opened the door and paused.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Shuichi, startled, dropped the entire package of cigarettes into the toilet, making it very obvious exactly what he was doing.
Um," he said.
Eiri considered Shuichi for a moment and then rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot," he decided, and he left the washroom.
Shuichi scrambled after him. "Yuki!" he cried. "It's not how it looks! I was just --"
"Do you want me to quit smoking?" Eiri interrupted.
The question stopped Shuichi in his tracks, although his literally running into Eiri's back helped a little on that point, too. "W... what?"
Eiri turned to face Shuichi. "Do. You. Want. Me. To. Quit. Smoking. End question."
Now that Eiri had asked this, Shuichi wasn't sure. It was far more difficult to say 'yes' when the blond was right there in front of him, asking that question while smelling so very much like Eiri (a scent, Shuichi realized, was primarily made up of cologne and smoke) and looking like he did and...
Oh, fuck it. Shuichi stepped up to Eiri and stood up on his toes to kiss the writer. He had heard from other people that kissing a smoker was supposed to taste like licking an ashtray, but Shuichi had never understood that. Kissing Eiri was just a kiss, one that almost always tasted of cigarettes, and Shuichi had fallen for those ash-tinged kisses a long time ago. How had he ever even considered making Eiri stop smoking? The smell and taste were just part of who Eiri was. That was all.
When the kiss broke, Eiri and Shuichi were quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, Eiri cleared his throat.
"That wasn't an answer," Eiri murmured.
Shuichi shrugged. "Maybe not to you it wasn't," he said.
Eiri watched Shuichi for a moment and then shook his head. "You're an idiot," he said for the second time that night.
"I know." Shuichi grinned and started leading Eiri toward the hotel bed.
"Mmm," Eiri agreed at last. He paused before they reached the bed and frowned. "One last question."
"Are you going to stop flushing my cigarettes now?"
Shuichi laughed and fell back onto the bed, pulling Eiri down with him. "Of course," he answered, and caught Eiri's lips again for another smoky kiss.