Last Dance [Gravitation, Eiri/Shuichi]
Title: Last Dance
Fandom: Gravitation
Pairing: Eiri x Shuichi
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Gravitation and its characters do not belong to me.
Summary: Shuichi could dance with whoever he wished; it wasn’t like Eiri cared.
Excuse: I needed some fluff.
Eiri wasn’t the jealous type.
No matter what his therapist said.
He was the stand-back-and-watch-his-boyfriend-dance-with-other-guys-and-not-give-a-fuck type.
He had to be, really. Shuichi was far too popular for him to be anything different. He was popular too, of course; he just didn’t like to dance, and others knew better than to ask him. Even Shuichi had learned that lesson by now, which was why now his dance card was always filled at these silly NG formal functions. He danced with producers, managers, choreographers, fellow artists, his own band mates, whoever asked him.
Eiri didn’t care.
He didn’t.
He was the one that got to take the boy home at the end of the night.
And, besides, it wasn’t as if they didn’t dance at all.
As the band announced its last piece and the smooth, gentle notes of a slow song sounded, Eiri straightened up and took a step away from the wall he’d been leaning coolly against. He saw Shuichi before Shuichi saw him-not because he’d been watching him, but because it was impossible to miss that startlingly pink hair. Shuichi grinned when their eyes met and made his way toward him, arm outstretched, hand proffered, before he’d even made it off the dance floor. Eiri rolled his eyes-he did every time-and took the hand, letting himself be led into the crowd if only because he knew Shuichi would hand the reigns over when they actually started dancing.
He better, anyway.
Sure enough, like the trained little lover he was, Shuichi turned to Eiri with a smile and slipped his arms around the writer’s neck, hands resting lightly on the back of his shoulders. Eiri held Shuichi’s waist loosely, barely, just because he knew the boy would whisper, “Yuki, hold me tighter.” And maybe he kind of, sort of, liked it when the boy whispered to him.
He hadn’t whispered to anyone else.
Not that Eiri had watched him.
“Yuki?” Shuichi looked shyly up at him. “Thank you for dancing with me.”
“Well, you certainly didn’t need me to dance with you,” he said, not-jealously. “Not with that long line of suitors of yours.”
“‘Suitors’? Oh, Mr. Romance Writer,” Shuichi giggled. “You know this is the only dance that matters. Haven’t you heard the saying ‘save the best for last’?”
“Hn.”
Eiri had always thought that saying was a load of bull, personally. But if Shuichi honestly believed it, all he could do was be flattered. Or was that relief that was flooding through his bloodstream? Well, whatever it was didn’t really matter, he supposed. He just pulled Shuichi closer, letting the boy nuzzle his neck and lightly kissing that head of pink, pink hair and definitely-not-enjoying this last dance for as long as it lasted.
Fandom: Gravitation
Pairing: Eiri x Shuichi
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Gravitation and its characters do not belong to me.
Summary: Shuichi could dance with whoever he wished; it wasn’t like Eiri cared.
Excuse: I needed some fluff.
Eiri wasn’t the jealous type.
No matter what his therapist said.
He was the stand-back-and-watch-his-boyfriend-dance-with-other-guys-and-not-give-a-fuck type.
He had to be, really. Shuichi was far too popular for him to be anything different. He was popular too, of course; he just didn’t like to dance, and others knew better than to ask him. Even Shuichi had learned that lesson by now, which was why now his dance card was always filled at these silly NG formal functions. He danced with producers, managers, choreographers, fellow artists, his own band mates, whoever asked him.
Eiri didn’t care.
He didn’t.
He was the one that got to take the boy home at the end of the night.
And, besides, it wasn’t as if they didn’t dance at all.
As the band announced its last piece and the smooth, gentle notes of a slow song sounded, Eiri straightened up and took a step away from the wall he’d been leaning coolly against. He saw Shuichi before Shuichi saw him-not because he’d been watching him, but because it was impossible to miss that startlingly pink hair. Shuichi grinned when their eyes met and made his way toward him, arm outstretched, hand proffered, before he’d even made it off the dance floor. Eiri rolled his eyes-he did every time-and took the hand, letting himself be led into the crowd if only because he knew Shuichi would hand the reigns over when they actually started dancing.
He better, anyway.
Sure enough, like the trained little lover he was, Shuichi turned to Eiri with a smile and slipped his arms around the writer’s neck, hands resting lightly on the back of his shoulders. Eiri held Shuichi’s waist loosely, barely, just because he knew the boy would whisper, “Yuki, hold me tighter.” And maybe he kind of, sort of, liked it when the boy whispered to him.
He hadn’t whispered to anyone else.
Not that Eiri had watched him.
“Yuki?” Shuichi looked shyly up at him. “Thank you for dancing with me.”
“Well, you certainly didn’t need me to dance with you,” he said, not-jealously. “Not with that long line of suitors of yours.”
“‘Suitors’? Oh, Mr. Romance Writer,” Shuichi giggled. “You know this is the only dance that matters. Haven’t you heard the saying ‘save the best for last’?”
“Hn.”
Eiri had always thought that saying was a load of bull, personally. But if Shuichi honestly believed it, all he could do was be flattered. Or was that relief that was flooding through his bloodstream? Well, whatever it was didn’t really matter, he supposed. He just pulled Shuichi closer, letting the boy nuzzle his neck and lightly kissing that head of pink, pink hair and definitely-not-enjoying this last dance for as long as it lasted.