Notes: So, my friend and I have recently started reading the Gravitation manga. Both of us have already seen the anime, and somehow we got talking about character comparisons. Long story short, she's basically a female Yuki, and I'm her female Shuichi! XD So, Yuki-in-this-fic was based off of none other than my bestie Katie (Formerly known as M'husband, and fem!Japan.) and we're two incredibly weird chicks. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the fruits of our odd labors. Weird things happen when you have an entire apartment to yourselves and you're trying to prepare for a midterm project for drama. We really should be memorizing our script; instead we're here, writing this.
And yeah, I know Gravitation is based in the nineties, and therefore the Wii and a DVR was far from existing. But please suspend your disbelief. We were just having fun with this, and to be honest this was all started as harmless fun. I hope it'll stay that way, and you'll get as much of a kick out of it as we did. XD There's a lot of stuff we put in here, and it's all very random, but that's what sleep-deprivation is for, right? XD
Warnings: Sleep-deprivation fic, shonen-ai, swearing, OOCness, Shuichi (He's a warning all his own…)
Summary: Living with someone like Shuichi is a hassle. Especially when said pink-haired brat tends to get himself caught in snowstorms, and generally disrupt your way of living through simple things like boredom.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Yuki, Shuichi, and all other characters and contents of the aforementioned manga are property of Maki Murakami and TokyoPop Publishing.
It's a Fun 'Whee!'
The building was unforgivably cold. There was practically no difference between the outside air, and the chill of the inside. Yuki, whose temples had slowly begun to ache from a combination of cold and exhaustion, was typing away furiously in an effort to meet the newest deadline. He was almost unaware of the chill of the surrounding room, him dressed in about four layers as it was. He pulled back from the computer for a moment, his eyes beginning to hurt, and rubbed at them vigorously. But when he uncovered them, it was not the computer screen his eyes landed on; rather, it was the picture resting on the edge of his desk.
Shuichi. The pinkette's hair was blowing all over in that picture, mostly because it was taken on a VERY windy day in Kyoto. They had gone to the cherry blossom festival last year, and though Yuki had denied having anything resembling a good time, he really had enjoyed being with his…
Oh, dare he say it, his lover…On a day that was so sacred for Japanese tradition. Plus, the boy had looked absolutely edible in that lavender yukata. Shuichi had claimed it was a men's yukata, but Yuki had been dubious.
Yuki should have known the second he let himself think about the guy, he would magically be summoned onto his doorstep. So, he shouldn't have been surprised (And wasn't, really.) when the pounding of small fists was heard. "Yuki! Yuki, YUKIIIIII!"
The blond gritted his teeth as he thrust his chair back, rose, and started towards the front door. The hardwood floors were a shock to his senses, but he managed to transform this into ever more annoyance. And Shuichi was still at the door, screaming. "YUKI! IT'S COLD OUT HERE! IT'S LIKE NEGATIVE ONE-HUNDRED DEGREES OUT HERE AND I CAN'T FREAKING FEEL MY LEGS OR EARS ANYMORE YUKIIIIIII!"
With a very annoyed growl, Yuki flung the door open to find a very distraught, very blue pinkette on his doorstep. Yuki actually found himself worried at the almost-purple shade his lover had turned. Annoyance disbanded for the moment, he grabbed the front of Shuichi's shirt and pulled him inside, slamming the door behind him and advancing upon the thermostat. He might not have cared about the temperature himself, but when Shuichi was shivering like that; the boy needed a good blast of heat.
"Are you insane?" he demanded as he pushed Shuichi onto the sofa, right in front of a heating vent, and piled every blanket he could find on top of him. "You're blue, Shu! Blue! Are you even sure you're not hypothermic? Should I take you to the hospital? Bundle up, don't just lay there! Jesus, stupid!"
"I'm sorry, Yuki," whined Shuichi, pulling the blankets around himself. "The snow wasn't that bad when I left the studio! But then it picked up, and I wasn't getting a signal. I would have called you or Hiro, but the snow was interfering with the signal. I'm fine, don't call the hospital and Yuki, don't be angry!"
Yuki sighed and walked to the closet, pulling out the portable heater and setting it on the coffee table, right in front of the miserable-looking Shuichi. He then plugged it in, turned it on high, and said, "You're not moving from that spot until your lips are red and cheeks start turning pink again, got it?"
Shuichi nodded meekly, chastised as he was, and burrowed into the covers. Yuki wandered back into his (their?) bedroom and sat down at the desk again. He'd just gotten his fingers on the keyboard when stumbling in came a tiny pinkette, whom stared at him with the hugest puppy eyes (Even for Shuichi) and wound around to the other side of the desk. Yuki sighed and slid his chair out, reluctantly allowing Shuichi to perch on his knee. The vocalist curled his legs in towards himself (The office chair was big, and there was at least six inches of space between Yuki's thigh and the arm of the chair; Shuichi's feet found a home here.) and buried his face in Yuki's collarbone.
"I thought I told you to stay put," Yuki grumbled, even as he placed his nose in Shuichi's cold hair and racked his fingers through the pink locks.
"Will you come sit with me?" Shuichi mumbled, still looking utterly depressed. "You can sit on the couch with me and type; I promise I'll be quiet. But I don't like it when you're mad at me."
Yuki considered him for a moment; the big brown eyes, the cold body shivering in his arms. "You'll be quiet?"
Shuichi nodded against his chest. With an almighty sigh, Yuki lifted the boy into his arms and carried him into the living room. He set him back down in front of the heater, told him, "Stay here, I'll be right back." and walked into the bedroom to get his computer.
When he arrived back, Shuichi leaned over and burrowed himself in blankets and Yuki. He smelled like winter chill and cherry blossoms, and for once Yuki didn't mind his clinginess. After a moment of staring, and Shuichi breathing against his neck, he muttered, "I'm not mad."
"You're not?" Shuichi asked, looking up. His eyes were hopeful, and the color finally started coming back to his cheeks.
"No," Yuki muttered. "I mean, you scare me sometimes, Shuichi. Walking home alone in the snow? Turning up on my doorstep practically purple? That's why I yelled."
"You were worried?" Shuichi murmured, and Yuki could almost see the hearts in his eyes. "Aw, you really do care!"
Yuki sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn't honor this with a response, other than a pat on the head. Then he turned back to his computer. Shuichi squirmed to the edge of the sofa, picked the remote off of the coffee table, and rolled himself back under the covers. Yuki continued typing, even as Shuichi flipped to the DVR, and selected a certain Live-In-Concert Nittle Grasper performance that Yuki had had the misfortune of sitting through at least five times.
They sat there for what must have been an hour, and it was a testament to just how cold Shuichi had been that his skin didn't start to feel warm against Yuki's until almost forty-five minutes into that time. At that time, he started muttering about how awesome Nittle Grasper was ("Ryuichi's so cool…and no one can make a keyboard look sexier than Tohma-san can…) So that, by the time the Nittle Grasper video was done, Shuichi had gotten antsy and Yuki had developed a headache.
And so Yuki, having become annoyed sometime during moment four of shuffling, growled, "Shuichi, either stop wigging or get up. You're warm enough now."
Shuichi extracted himself from the blankets, crying, "Thank goodness! I was starting to get really hot!" He hopped his way over to the game cabinet and riffled through it. Yuki rose from the couch, shoved his laptop under his arm, and began migrating into the bedroom again. Before he could reach it, however, Shuichi called, "Oooh! When did you get this?"
"…What?" asked Yuki, apprehensively. God only knew what Shuichi had found.
"A Wii!" Shuichi cried, utter joy in his voice as he tugged it out of the cabinet and thumped it down in front of the television. Yuki turned back around in time to see Shuichi perform this reckless move, and one-thousand hellfires erupted in his gaze.
"Tohma gave it to me for Christmas. Would you be careful, you damn brat? That's pretty damn breakable, and not to mention expensive! It probably won't survive the Shuichi Shindou Experience so chill out when you're handling it."
"…If only you'd say something like that about me…" Shuichi mumbled to himself. He continued to grumble, even as Yuki demanded to know just what he was grunting under his breath over there, and set up the game console.
The blond gave up on trying to hear what his lover was saying, and instead took his computer back to the couch, where he could keep an eye on Shuichi and still work. The deadline was midnight on Saturday, and it was Wednesday. This project had to retain his undivided attention, video games and annoying pinkettes aside.
Shuichi had obviously been playing someone's Wii, because he knew how to work all the controls. He scrolled through expertly, making a Mii of himself and going on to select the game he wanted to play without having to look at the controls. Yuki had barely played it himself (Video games really weren't his thing; anyone who knew him could assume that.) but he knew enough to mutter the directions when Shuichi asked him, "How do I knock this guy off this stupid platform? He keeps killing me."
"Block by pressing B. Hit by swinging the controller. Block when he's trying to hit you. Hit him when he's open."
Of course, Shuichi immediately commenced with a wild flailing of the controller, which had Yuki paranoid that it would fly off his wrist and break the nearby window. He stood up and came to stand behind him, seizing Shuichi's wrist and wrapping the controller's rope securely around it. Then he placed his hand over Shuichi's, the other arm around his waist, and muttered, "Like this."
"Ooh," Shuichi mumbled as Yuki helped him successfully knock his digital opponent off the platform. "Think you've got it? I've gotta keep working on this deadline."
Shuichi nodded and, though his moves were still incredibly spastic, he did manage to win about sixty percent of his games. Yuki persistently clicked away at the keyboard, only glancing over at Shuichi every once in a while to make sure he hadn't managed to damage himself or the game system with his antics. From what he could tell, Shuichi was pretty good at things where he didn't have to control his movements all that much (Ping-pong, biking) but at games which required grace and patience (golf, namely) he was quickly thwarted by the computer.
It was during this third hole (Out of eighteen) of golf that Shuichi finally gave up. His surrender was quiet at first, only a whine of, "Yuki…this thing keeps farting at me…"
Yuki looked up in alarm, at both the rude language and the statement itself, and said, "Excuse me?"
Then, once he got a good look at the screen, realized it was just the noise the game made to alert the player of a bad swing. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's not…farting…at you. You're just doing it wrong. Do I have to show you again?"
"No, no I got it," Shuichi muttered. That kid possessed an incredible 'I can do it myself' complex when he wanted to (To Yuki's chagrin, most of the time he didn't want to) so Yuki chose not to argue with it, and simply let him do as he pleased.
Three humungous swings later, Shuichi muttered, "Okay, I'm bored…" (Which, for the record, should be read as: I give up!) and turned off the consol, without saving. This amused Yuki to no end, because obviously the pinkette was pissed that the high score he'd gained playing ping-pong had gone to waste on golf, and wanted to erase that from the game's memory. As further evidence of this, he pouted all the way over to the couch, which he flopped onto and pulled the remote towards him.
Said Yuki from his post at the computer, "If you turn on that same goddamn Nittle Grasper video, Shuichi, I'm gonna stick you back out in the snow."
"No, it's not," Shuichi said carefully, which made Yuki suspect he'd changed his mind only after Yuki had voiced his opinion on the subject. To his satisfaction, the boy flipped away from the DVR and instead scrolled through the guide to look for something to watch.
He finally settled on some music show, and Yuki realized very quickly just whom was onscreen. He felt the distinct urge to bang his head against the keyboard of his computer, but knew he shouldn't. His editor would kill him if he trashed another computer before he'd emailed her the transcript to the most recent chapter. So he settled with rubbing the heal of his hand into his eye and muttering, "Tell me that's not who I think it is."
"Lady Gaga," Shuichi confirmed in something of a trance. Shuichi wasn't really a huge fan of her music (Although he did enjoy American pop music, despite him not knowing a word of English) but rather was simply fascinated with her mannerisms. Yuki hoped the pinkette wasn't coming to the conclusion that all Americans behaved like that.
"That's what I was afraid of," sighed Yuki, grumbling to himself. "You really annoy me sometimes, brat. You know how much these stupid American music shows bug me."
Shuichi glanced at him and mumbled, "Well, I annoy you anyway…"
"Would you stop that passive-aggressive act?" Yuki muttered. "You don't understand it anyway, so why do you like it?"
"I don't like it, per say," Shuichi remarked as he turned back towards the television. "I just find it really…kind of…train-wrecky. You know, it's awful but hypnotizing…I can't quite look away."
Well, at least they agreed on one thing. Yuki fathomed the thought that, maybe, Shuichi wasn't as much of a lost cause as he appeared. Then he commented, "Is this a song about phones…?" and Yuki immediately rolled his eyes and retracted all previous thoughts towards the pinkette.
"Well, seeing as the song's called Telephone, I have to assume so."
"Ohh," Shuichi remarked, squinting. "I see. It's great to have a boyfriend who can speak English!"
Why did that brat insist on calling him boyfriend? It was such a childish term. So very high school.
…So very Shuichi.
The video ended, to Yuki's utter relief, and another began. However, this was one of those American rap-genre videos that Shuichi found absolutely appalling. He wrinkled his nose and quickly changed the channel, and got up before he could even see what had come on television. Yuki looked up, about to demand the kid turn the television off if he was just going to walk away like that, before Shuichi glanced at him and said, "I'm starving. You want something? I'm just gonna grab some pocky and come back."
Yuki sighed and shook his head. He didn't really have a taste for sweet things, at the moment, but something sugary (To keep him going through what was undoubtedly going to be a long night) which could be eaten with one hand (For ease of access, of course.) did rather appeal. So he just replied, "The pocky is fine. Bring enough for both of us."
Shuichi smiled and chirped, "We'll share a box!" before hopping off and into the kitchen. Yuki attempted to ignore the bangs that followed.
When Shuichi came back in, he flopped onto the sofa, molded himself against Yuki's side (Which Yuki tried to make himself annoyed about, but couldn't bring the emotion up for the lift of him) and munched on the pocky, offering Yuki the small box. Yuki slid a piece of the biscuit snack out, hung it from his mouth the way he typically would a cigarette, and nibbled on it slightly. Hmm; it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. It was actually pretty good, for a finger food targeted at hyperactive adolescents, and people in other countries who wanted a literal 'bite of Japan'.
"You know this stuff is mostly just for otakus, right?" Yuki remarked. He glanced at Shuichi, and proceeded to tell himself very firmly that he certainly wasn't interested in the way Shuichi was sucking the yogurt off the biscuit stick. "It's really not nutritional in any way, and they make it on the cheep. Then they ship this stuff off to America in vats and the weaboos over there eat it up. Most of their proceeds come from overseas."
Shuichi looked up, shocked at the terms exiting Yuki's mouth. "You know what an otaku is, Yuki? You know what a weaboo is?"
"Well duh, brat," muttered Yuki, sliding another piece of pocky out. It might have been non-nutritional and basically just as filling as air, but it did have taste, which was more than what a lot of fandom-based products could boast. "They're not exactly rare terms, and when you're a writer, you've gotta be versed in all forms of literature."
"You read manga?" Shuichi was almost exploding in excitement, having found something he and his partner had in common. He always got like this when he came across evidence that he and Yuki might not have been as dissimilar as Yuki would have people believe.
"Duh, brat," was all Yuki said, as he slid the pocky out of Shuichi's hand and placed it on the other side of him. "Maybe you shouldn't have any more of this. It's making you more clueless than usual. Is that the effect sugar has on you, Shu?"
Yuki was teasing, and Shuichi knew it, but he still gave a pitiful pout and whined, "Yuki-!" as if his lifeline as just been taken from him. Yuki jumped at the loud tone that had just exited the pinkette's mouth, and quickly gave him back the snack. "Okay, kid. Jesus. Here, you can keep it as long as you don't ever make that noise again."
Shuichi, blushing though satisfied with himself, was pacified for the moment and sat back. Only then did he process what was on the television. Some show which featured a host introducing videos intermittently. They all seemed to be amateur, home videos in which people did stupid things and generally hurt themselves doing so. Yuki found it ridiculous and muttered, "Please, Shuichi, find something interesting to watch or just turn off the television. This drivel is mind-numbing."
"Why can't you just watch and laugh?" Shuichi remarked, giggling at something ridiculous a dog was doing onscreen. "Come on, Yuki. It's funny. Even someone like you would laugh. It's okay to indulge in a bit of unsophisticated humor once in a while."
Yuki sighed and rolled his eyes upward to stare at the television. Despite himself, he chuckled at the image of a dog on its hind legs, which appeared to be barking to the beat of the national anthem of Japan. It was actually amusing.
His amusement fled, however, when Shuichi pressed his face close and remarked, "You're enjoying this, admit it."
"Shut up, brat," Yuki remarked, shifting away slightly to the other segment of the sofa. Yuki had a thing about personal space, even if it was Shuichi whom was invading it.
Shuichi leaned his hands on the edge of the sofa. "Come on, admit it, admit iiiit." Then his eyes went wide, and Yuki paid the barest amount of attention as his lover began to slide off the couch. "Uhm…Yuki…Yuki, I'm falling…!"
Yuki glanced back at his computer, uncaring as Shuichi hit the floor with an almighty thunk. Shuichi whimpered and muttered to himself, and Yuki picked up the nearest thing (A copy of one of his romance novels, oddly enough) and chucked it at Shuichi's head. Shuichi whined even louder, picked up the book, and stared at it. "You hit me with Forbidden Desires?"
"It was the nearest thing to my hand," Yuki remarked, looking back down at his computer. A few more hours and he'd be done. Free to look it over tomorrow before he sent it off to Mizuki. If only that pinkette on his floor would stop distracting him…
It took almost twenty minutes for Yuki to realized that his wishes had actually come true and Shuichi seemed to be quietly sitting on the couch. He glanced over the rim of his glasses, to see Shuichi had crawled back onto the couch and had the book in the crook of his arm, reading away. Yuki knew reading wasn't Shuichi's favorite thing, and he'd never really bothered to read any of Yuki's novels. Which begged the question; why was he doing so now?
"Are you…reading?" the words sounded wrong on his tongue. Just to test them out again, he continued, "…My novel?" Which just sounded even weirder and not natural at all. He even felt the skin on the back of his neck crawl when he thought about it. This had to be one of the first signs of the apocalypse.
"Yes," Shuichi mumbled, eyes glued to the page. "I like it."
Then Yuki remembered which one he'd thrown at Shuichi. Forbidden Desires was his first novel, released back when he'd still been a hormonal arts student, and it was frankly sex from the very first sentence. It had basically been published on a dare from one of his friends ("I hear the plot doesn't matter if it has lots of sex in it!) and it had received a lot of attention. Over time, it had come to be known as a bit of a jab at romance novels, because there were certain purposeful inconsistencies Yuki had purposefully fit in to test his friend's theory. At one point, the main female protagonist's hair changed from blonde, to red, to black and back.
It appeared Forbidden Desires had received another clueless pornography buff to laud over its greatness. Too bad it had to be the guy he called a lover.
"Hmm…," Shuichi flipped the page, and Yuki noticed his eyes beginning to droop. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, relieved that the kid had finally worn himself out. Shuichi was probably drifting into a world of half-formed fantasies right now, and would come find him in the middle of the night, utterly horny and ready for a shag. But he supposed the kid would sleep for a few hours until then. So, after finishing a few paragraphs and giving Shuichi enough time to thoroughly drift into dreamland, he closed the computer (With the completion of that paragraph, there were only a few more left until the chapter was finished. He would probably only need another hour to complete it.) and got up.
Shuichi was a small person, but his long legs and arms made him hard to carry, especially through the house's narrow doorways. But he tried to be as careful as he could, telling himself it was for his own benefit, not any concern for Shuichi's rest. After all, the kid would whine if he was woken, and then where would they be?
"Yuki…" Shuichi uttered in his sleep when Yuki set him down. Yuki sighed and brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. Shuichi smiled and curled into the bed, burying his face in Yuki's pillow.
Yuki sighed, thinking as he walked back into the living room. Even if the pinkette was as random as his music, and could switch moods faster than his sister when she was hormonal. Even though he was a literal swirl of destruction when let loose in the house. Even though he stole his pillows and hogged the blankets…
Shuichi was his annoying, insufferable, random, unpredictable, and pink lover. And Yuki was nothing if not possessive of what was rightfully his, no matter how annoying.
A/N: There was supposed to be smut in this. But then it got to be like ten o'clock on Sunday night, and I suddenly felt really lazy. I'm planning another fic at the moment, which will be significantly more cracky than this, but entirely more based around lemon. If you really want though, I'll post an 'alternate ending' chapter.
Like I said, this was a story thought up between me and my friend randomly on a sleep-deprived Friday night. Honest to God, we didn't get to sleep until three o'clock in the morning we talked this over so long. It's kind of our random, plotless baby. So if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it. However, if you wanna comment nicely on its randomness, we welcome it. XD
And for all you fangirls out there whom have had similar experiences, at least we know you understand us.
Time for writing credits!
Katie: Strawberry pocky reference, Lady Gaga, America's Funniest Home videos reference, monotone video game instructions, most of Yuki's lines, the title of the story (There's a rather long story as to how it came about, but basically I said, "Whee…" while playing the Wii, and Katie felt the need to point out, "Yes, you are playing the Wii." The title of the story is my reply. XD)
Lynn: Falling off the couch, the tossing of the romance novel, Tohma and the sexy keyboard, Forbidden Desires: A Mockery of Romance, most of Shuichi's lines, and sticking the whole story together (Which is why it's getting published on my account. XD)
Send your regards to Neko_Rocker_Kat, AKA Katie. She's awesome.
My eyes hurt…Time for bed…