Initial D: All The Downhills In Japan (NC-17)
Summary: Ryousuke wonders what sort of challenge Takumi Fujiwara would be as a lover.
Notes: This is based on the the live-action movie of Initial D, rather than the manga or anime (although I pillaged the latter for events and characters). So if you're wondering where Keisuke is (for example), blame the screenwriters!
ALL THE DOWNHILLS IN JAPAN
*
A few weeks after he joined Ryousuke's team, Takumi asked, "Are you gay?"
"Does it matter?" Ryousuke took a sip from his can of coffee, and watched Takumi's eyes.
As if he realized what Ryousuke was doing, Takumi shrugged and looked down at the ground. "Not really. Itsuki was being stupid again."
As usual, Ryousuke thought. But the boy was Takumi's best friend, so instead he said, "Let me know if it does. Are you still going to Usui tomorrow night?"
"I promised," Takumi said, and only a sidelong glance let Ryosuke know that his change of subject hadn't succeeded. But Takumi wouldn't ask again. Not tonight, at least.
*
He's not gay. But he's not straight, either. Nakazato once, not too long after they'd met, accused him of being car-sexual, and Ryousuke had to laugh, because that's closer to the truth than the usual slurs.
He doesn't sleep with other racers, men or women. It's bad strategy. He's gotten offers -- Kyoichi Sudoh most notably -- but he doesn't accept them. The race itself is enough. He needs that challenge, that rush as he pushes himself and his FC to the edge. In comparison, sex is awkward, frequently boring, and more messy than working on his car, without even a re-tuned engine to show for it.
He wonders what sort of challenge Takumi Fujiwara would be as a lover.
*
"You didn't even look," Takumi said mildly.
"Hmm?" Ryousuke had been automatically watching the road, studying the course as Takumi drove it. Occasionally he could see tire marks from the contest earlier.
"Mako-chan and Sayuki-chan were both wearing shirts cut..." Takumi gestured vaguely in the air, as if indicating the breasts that had been framed by the shirts in question. "And you didn't even look."
"Should I have?"
"No," Takumi said.
Ryousuke watched him for a minute, then went back to studying the road. He didn't bother suppressing his smile.
*
Ryousuke heard of Bunta Fujiwara from the man who taught him to drift. Yamamoto's first race was against Fujiwara, and he had the chance to race the man twice more before Fujiwara gave up racing. It was like a fairy tale: the man who never lost, the man who retired only to marry and have a family and run some sort of business (Yamamoto was vague on what sort).
Ryousuke listened to these stories, and wondered if Fujiwara-san was still happy, and if he could still drive like a demon. Ryousuke's father had already begun dropping hints about dangerous hobbies and the importance of keeping the hospital clinic in the family.
Years later, he finds out the answers are Not really and Yes. Takumi Fujiwara bears the marks of both.
*
"He's going to kiss you," Nakazato said.
"No, he's not," Ryousuke said absently. "Dammit, it's still running slow. I'll have to--"
"Did you even listen to me?"
"Of course I do," Ryousuke said, looking up from his computer. "You said Fujiwara is going to kiss me, without any sort of explanation or support for your suggestion."
"It's the way he looks at you."
"It's just the car."
"I thought he'd refused to drive your FC."
"He can still admire a good car."
Nakazato laughed, saluted Ryousuke with the tool he'd come over to grab, and returned to his GT-R. Ryousuke watched him go thoughtfully. Nakazato had his flaws as a driver -- he'd modified the 4WD GT-R so he could drift, which said quite a bit -- but he wasn't unobservant.
What he hadn't seen, or hadn't said, was the other half of the equation. If Takumi hadn't kissed Ryousuke by the time Project.D got underway, Ryousuke had every intention of kissing Takumi.
*
Ryousuke knows Natsuki Mogi only indirectly. He's glad of it, too, because if he ever met her, he'd be tempted to break one of her pretty legs. She's a distraction, and Takumi doesn't need distractions. He remembers chasing Takumi off alongside railroad tracks, and the hollow look in Takumi's eyes when he and Nakazato caught up.
When he's actually racing, Takumi doesn't really notice distractions. He's got better focus than most professionals. But when he's upset, he forgets things like tire wear and engine capacity, and just drives. As his rival, it's exhilarating. As his mentor, it's terrifying.
As his lover -- but he isn't Takumi's lover. Yet. Takumi's heart still aches for a stupid girl who wanted to have it both ways. And Ryousuke won't settle for some rebound crush, too quickly forgotten.
The scars from the father he can handle. These are more difficult.
*
Kenta was laughing when he finally skidded to a stop next to the 86 and rolled down his window. "Tofu delivery boy," he said. "You drive every single day, no matter what the weather is, don't you?"
Takumi nodded, looking down as if that would hide his little smile. In the back seat behind him, Fumihiro didn't bother hiding his.
Neither did Ryousuke. "The point's been proved," he said, stepping out onto the road as Fumihiro got out of Takumi's back seat. "Any other suggestions? Because I'm heading back up to the top to get someplace dry."
"In whose car?" Nakazato's voice over the radio crackled a bit: the rain wasn't helping the transmission. Of course, that could be more laughter, this time at Ryousuke's expense. He'd left the FC up at the starting line when he volunteered to come down to the finish.
"I'll take you," Takumi said abruptly.
"Thank you," Ryousuke said. He hadn't expected the offer, not with so many Red Suns around. But he wouldn't turn it down.
They went back up more slowly than they'd come down -- Takumi wasn't as familiar with Myogi as he was with Akina, no matter what his downhill time might have implied. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, broken only by the rain on the car roof and the windshield wipers going back and forth, Ryousuke said, "I'm surprised you didn't take your friend." Itsuki had come along, to cheer his friend on, he said. He'd also stayed at the top.
"He doesn't like my driving," Takumi said with a shrug. "The one time I raced with him in the car, he was sick for five days straight."
"Five days, huh? I thought he was a 'racing god.'"
"He doesn't call himself that any more," Takumi said, but he was smiling again.
"He doesn't dare with you around." Ryousuke fell silent as another car's headlights briefly flashed into the windshield, then vanished as the car passed them, headed downhill. "You're already picking up the gift of learning new courses."
"The courses aren't so different."
"Maybe not to you."
"I'm not that amazing," Takumi said.
"You keep saying that--"
"It doesn't seem real," Takumi said abruptly, as if he hadn't heard Ryousuke. He slowed the car still more. "A few months ago, I was just helping out the old man. I thought I knew where I was going, even if it was shitty. And now it's all different."
"Do you object?"
"No," Takumi said, and went silent.
They'd hit the final stretch, the slight downhill into the parking lot at the top of the mountain. Takumi sped up, just a little, and slid into the parking lot beautifully, right next to where Ryousuke had parked the FC. The perfect distance, Ryousuke thought in amusement. He could open the passenger door and the driver's door, slip from one car to the other, and barely get wet. Or at least, any more wet than he already was.
"Ryousuke-san..."
Ryousuke looked over at Takumi, just in time to catch Takumi's mouth as he leaned over and kissed him.
It was a quick kiss, not so much romantic as startling. Takumi pulled back immediately. He looked a little surprised himself, but mostly determined. When Ryousuke didn't immediately open the door and make a break for it, he leaned in again, more slowly this time.
This time, forewarned, Ryousuke kissed him back as enthusiastically as he dared, one hand coming up to cup Takumi's face. Takumi had apparently cast him as the 'girl': every time he tried to take control of the kiss, Takumi firmly took it back. Finally, Ryousuke broke the kiss, though he didn't lower his hand. "I should get home."
"Yes," Takumi said. He looked dazed.
Ryousuke let his hand trail down Takumi's arm to finally brush his hand. "I'll see you tomorrow." He opened the door at last, and was already in his car when he heard Takumi's belated, "Bye."
He started up the FC, and brushed his fingers over his lips as he watched the 86 pull back out of its parking space. Not perfect. But there would be other kisses. Besides, he'd never expected Takumi not to be a challenge.
*
Some racers talk about 'battle aura,' as if it were something you could see. Nakazato used to be one of them. Even now, sometimes, when he's drunk enough, he claims that he didn't pick Ryousuke out of the crowd of Red Suns by his car (because he wasn't in the FC at the time), but by the size of his...aura.
Ryousuke doesn't believe in 'battle aura.' Kyoichi Sudoh exudes only bad temper. Bunta Fujiwara smelled faintly of stale sake. And not even Nakazato, who says he can see such things, noticed the important person in the car during that first race on Akina.
(Nakazato says that Itsuki would cancel out anyone's battle aura if he was close enough, much less in the driver's seat. Ryousuke thinks he may have a point.)
On the other hand, Ryousuke also has never been chased down a course by the 86 and its driver, unless you count that brief period during their one official race so far. He's willing to admit that perhaps he'd feel differently if he were the pursued, rather than the pursuer.
*
Summer turned to fall. The challenges continued, official and unofficial: another race against the Emperors, this time on their home course; Takumi against the son of one of his father's old rivals. Fall darkened into winter. Itsuki mentioned at least three chance encounters (to Nakazato, not Ryousuke -- Ryousuke made him nervous, apparently), all of which Takumi won.
Late one night in January, Ryousuke's phone rang. He closed the research he'd been doing on one of the new team's prospective opponents, turned away from his computer, and answered it.
"It's Fujiwara," Takumi said. Ryousuke could hear his breathing, deep and shaky, as if he'd been running hard - - or crying. "Could you just...talk?"
"About what?" Ryousuke kept his own voice even from long habit. Either something had happened to the 86 again, or--
"I raced in the snow tonight."
"Against who?" So this was about a race. But Takumi didn't call him just to tell him about random races, or else he wouldn't have to beg information from Itsuki.
"Don't remember." Ryousuke could almost see the shrug. "Some bastard. He'd taken Natsuki-chan, and she called me."
Shit. "I see."
"It wasn't even a good race," Takumi added thoughtfully.
"I see." What? He'd braced himself for far worse. News of a love confession at the very least. Why had Takumi called him, if it wasn't to talk about the girl? Just in case, he said, "I'm not sure I can help you with Mogi-san --"
"Not about her." Takumi's breathing had evened out. If he had been crying, he'd stopped. "I get enough stupid advice about her from the old man. I just wanted to talk."
Ryousuke let himself relax back into his chair. "Then talk. What sort of race was it?"
Takumi had been right, unfortunately. It wasn't much of a race. His opponent either hadn't realized who he was up against, or hadn't been that good a driver to begin with. Takumi had scared him into a spin-out within three corners.
"And then what?" Ryousuke prompted, when Takumi fell silent.
"Ryousuke-san..." Takumi paused. Then, abruptly, "Never mind."
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing."
"If it's distracting you like this, it's not nothing." Ryousuke tipped his chair back, propping his feet against one of his desk drawers.
Another pause. Ryousuke imagined Takumi leaning against the counter in the tofu shop, staring off into space. Finally Takumi sighed and said, "Ryousuke-san, why do you let me kiss you?"
"Let you?" Ryousuke nearly laughed. "I enjoy kissing you. Why else?"
"Because of obligation," Takumi said, as if reading off a list. "Because you were setting something up. Because you felt sorry for me."
"No, none of those." Where was he getting this? From Mogi-san? What had he told her? What had she said?
"Do you want to go to a love hotel with me?"
"Is that an invitation?"
"Do you want to?" Takumi repeated. He'd lowered his voice, as if he didn't want to be overheard.
"Actually, I prefer the comfort of my own bed." Ryousuke could feel himself trembling, very faintly. Takumi had a gift for coming out of your blind spot. "If you'd like to come over for morning coffee --"
"Not tonight." He didn't think it was his imagination that Takumi sounded wistful. "See you later, Ryousuke-san."
"Later," Ryousuke said, and hung up.
It took him several minutes to be able to focus on anything but the memory of Takumi's mouth on his. Why do you let me kiss you? Whatever Natsuki had said to Takumi, Ryousuke was no longer sure who was ahead in their private race.
*
Ryousuke is not a virgin.
He's never thought much of virginity. Yes, there's something special about the first time you drive your car, but a good racer chooses a car and learns its every trick, its every vibration, so he knows how to push it to its utmost. Back when Ryousuke started racing, he tested several different kinds of cars before settling on the FC.
Takumi has never driven anything but his 86. (And Itsuki's 85, which hardly counts.) Even when the engine blew, he refused to abandon it. With the new engine, he's unstoppable.
Takumi is, to Ryousuke's knowledge, a virgin.
Ryousuke thinks he should abandon this metaphor before it gets him in trouble.
*
"Here you go," Nakazato said, tossing Ryousuke a tape. "Scouting results."
Ryousuke caught it easily. "Thank you."
He expected Nakazato to go back to his GT-R. Instead, the other man hesitated for a moment. "You sure you know what you're doing?"
"With this?" Ryousuke hefted the scouting tape. "Of course."
"With Fujiwara," Nakazato said.
Ah. "Yes."
"Good," Nakazato said. He looked over Ryousuke's shoulder, to where Takumi leaned half out of the driver's seat of the 86, talking with Fumihiro about acceleration speed. "See you tomorrow."
Ryousuke waved him off, and waited, eyes carefully fixed on the scouting tape, until he heard the GT-R pull out and head down Akagi. Then he turned and walked over to the 86. "Nearly finished?"
"There's nothing to do," Fumihiro said wryly, closing the hood on the 86. "Not until we know where we're going."
"I'm making that decision soon," Ryousuke assured him. "Fujiwara?"
"All set," Takumi said.
"Do you have to go home immediately?"
"Not really, no." Takumi was almost smiling, or trying to hide his smile. "So long as I'm home by three."
"Then follow me," Ryousuke said, and pretended not to notice the discreet thumb's-up that Fumihiro flashed him.
Takumi didn't hesitate when Ryousuke turned up the driveway to the Takahashi house, although his eyes were wider than usual as he got out of the 86, and he said something under his breath about not having gotten a gift for his host. Ryousuke grinned at him over his shoulder. "There's no one here but us, Fujiwara. And I don't need a host gift."
"It's still polite," Takumi said. But he followed Ryousuke in without any further protests.
Whatever his other intentions -- and he certainly had them -- Ryosuke kept to his priorities. First, watch the scouting tape. Project.D was too important to risk. Takumi agreed, even without being asked: he watched the tape besides Ryousuke with only the occasional "huh" or "hmm." When they hit the end, Ryousuke rewound it, then started again. Not up near the top, but farther down...even with those dangerously open gutters, it should be possible...
"What are you planning?" Takumi asked quietly.
"What makes you think I'm planning something?"
"You get a look in your eyes," Takumi said. "Like you're driving down a course that no one else can see yet, absolutely focused."
Ryousuke blinked, looking away from the video. "I hadn't realized I was so obvious."
Takumi shrugged. "Maybe I've just been around you. What are you planning?"
"Nothing for certain," Ryousuke said easily. "Not until I've driven the actual course." According to his father, Takumi worked best when given oblique hints, and told to work it out for himself. If Bunta had told the truth, he'd be better off telling Takumi his theory only on the night of the actual race. If then.
"I see," Takumi murmured, and frowned at the screen as if it would tell him.
Ryousuke watched him for a moment, then said, "One more time through. We shouldn't get too many preconceptions, or we won't be able to drive the course properly."
He didn't need a third time through to study the course. Neither did Takumi. But the tape playing gave him the excuse to shift on the couch, half his attention on Takumi, waiting for a countdown that he suspected only he could hear.
Then Takumi glanced over and caught his eye.
Ryousuke hoped, for the sake of his pride, that he was the one who leaned over and kissed Takumi. But he couldn't be certain. They were kissing, however, and completely ignoring the tape. A bit of careful squirming, and they were lying on the couch next to each other, Takumi half on top of Ryousuke.
Things progressed quickly from there. Takumi flinched when Ryousuke tugged off his shirt, but Ryousuke kissed him again, and didn't even try to look at the scars his fingers found. Ryousuke didn't flinch when Takumi returned the favor, although he did gasp when Takumi lingered over his nipples, licking one experimentally. He hadn't expected the pang of feeling, tugging at nerves he'd never particularly paid attention to.
Takumi slid down, taking one nipple in his teeth and tugging gently. Ryousuke swallowed another gasp, and caught him by the shoulder. "Fujiwara, I'm not a girl."
Takumi raised his head. "I know," he said.
"Neither are you." Ryousuke brushed one hand over Takumi's chest to demonstrate, and felt Takumi's breath catch. Hmm. Perhaps not the best example.
But rather than arching into the touch, or freezing in unexpected panic, Takumi pushed himself up onto his elbows and said, "So what do two men do together?" His face was flushed.
"Not what you're thinking," Ryousuke said, and slid his fingertips into the waist of Takumi's jeans, petting along the skin there. Takumi's hips jerked forward, pressing a very nice erection against Ryousuke's leg. "I don't want to fuck you."
"You don't?" Takumi ground his hips down again, more deliberately this time, one leg sliding between Ryousuke's to press against his own erection.
"Not like this, I don't."
"Then what do you want?" Takumi frowned down at him, sounding exasperated.
Ryousuke kissed him again. "For the moment," he said, pulling back just far enough for the words to come clear, "I want to get rid of these." He tugged at Takumi's jeans.
Takumi kissed him back, then rolled off him to stand in front of the couch, unzip his jeans, and carefully pull off his jeans. The boxers, unfortunately, stayed in place. He let the jeans drop to the floor, and stood there in front of Ryousuke, illuminated by the frozen image of the finish line on the TV behind him.
"Beautiful," Ryousuke told him.
Takumi's eyes narrowed, and he knelt down in front of Ryousuke and attacked the fastenings of his slacks. Ryousuke lay back and helped, as much as he was allowed, smiling when Takumi's hands slowed. He hadn't worn underwear today. But Takumi didn't look shocked. Instead, he sat back on his heels and tugged Ryousuke's slacks down his legs, then carefully took Ryousuke in one hand.
"Takumi --" He was getting passed on the outside, Ryousuke thought in frustration. He reached down, petting Takumi's hair, then running his fingers down along Takumi's cheek and up over his lips. Takumi's grip loosened, and he looked up, eyes dark and expecting.
Ryousuke took advantage of the chance to move. He tugged Takumi up into his place on the couch, and slid down to kneel in front of him instead. Takumi blinked, and tried to sit up straight. "Ryousuke-san --"
"You're thinking too hard," Ryousuke said, and pulled Takumi's boxers down off his hips as carefully as he could. Takumi raised his hips, still blinking down at him, and only then seemed to realize what Ryousuke was doing. He opened his mouth as if to protest again. Not this time, Ryousuke thought, and bent to lick Takumi's cock.
Takumi sagged back against the couch again with a strangled moan, and didn't object when Ryousuke sat back enough to pull his boxers the rest of the way off. Ryousuke watched him from under his lashes for a moment. He wasn't going to fool himself that he'd won that easily, but at least it might give him the lead. He settled between Takumi's legs again, and licked him once more before taking him into his mouth.
He'd forgotten how long it had been since he'd done this. His jaw ached after a while, and he had to stop occasionally, using his hand instead, keeping Takumi to his slower rhythm. Let it build. He wanted Takumi to enjoy this, to want this, to want it again -- not just stolen kisses, but more. And Takumi let him, hands fisted on the couch, breath hitching every time Ryousuke swallowed around him. He was watching every time Ryousuke looked up. Not off in his own head, imagining someone else, but watching, as if he wanted to know it was Ryousuke who was slowly, luxuriously sucking him off.
One last lick along the underside of Takumi's cock, and Ryousuke looked up again. "What do you want?"
"Ah -- Ryousuke-sa --" Takumi let go of the couch, and shakily reached out, not quite touching Ryousuke. "Ryousuke, please, more, finish me!"
He could make him beg, Ryousuke thought in silent triumph. But not now. Instead, he leaned forward again, and sucked hard, both hands on Takumi's hips to hold him down. It almost didn't matter, as Takumi tensed up - and then came in Ryousuke's mouth, with only a broken moan to warn him, if he'd needed warning.
Ryousuke swallowed, and sat back on his heels, licking his lips. He was distantly aware of his own arousal, but it wasn't important. He could wait until -- what the fuck?
Takumi slid down off the couch bonelessly, to straddle Ryousuke's lap and take his cock in hand again. Ryousuke looked down at that in bewilderment, then back up at Takumi. "What are you--"
"I'm not going to be an obligation," Takumi told him. His eyes had narrowed with that same focused glitter that he got when he was driving.
Ryousuke wanted to protest. He could wait. It wasn't about -- Takumi didn't need to -- damn it, Takumi wasn't supposed to be good at this. It was just his hand, moving faster, reminding Ryousuke of the desire he'd pushed aside so it wouldn't distract him. And Takumi's other hand, brushing teasingly light across the nipples that weren't supposed to be this sensitive, he wasn't a girl --
Too late. He stifled the sound of Takumi's name against his shoulder.
He'd left out tissues, at least, so it only took a few minutes to clean up. Then Takumi rose to his feet, wavering a bit. "Could I use your shower?"
"Down the hall," Ryousuke told him, and waited to get up until Takumi had vanished. He didn't feel any steadier than Takumi had looked, and he wanted a shower too. Lucky he had more than one bathroom.
He finished before Takumi, with enough time to gather up Takumi's clothing and lay it, folded, outside the door of the bathroom Takumi was using. He had just finished rewinding the course tape when Takumi emerged hesitantly. Ryousuke glanced over at him, then back at the tape as it popped out of the machine. "There's coffee if you'd like it."
"No, thank you. Not this time." Ryousuke could hear the footsteps approaching, and he looked back up in time to see Takumi's soft smile, and catch the gentle kiss.
"I should be getting home," Takumi said, as if he hadn't done anything startling. "See you tomorrow."
"See you," Ryousuke echoed, and stared after Takumi as he left the room again. Not this time?
At least he'll never have to worry about being bored. He still has records to set on all the mountains of Japan. And in between, there's Takumi Fujiwara.
-end-
Notes: This is based on the the live-action movie of Initial D, rather than the manga or anime (although I pillaged the latter for events and characters). So if you're wondering where Keisuke is (for example), blame the screenwriters!
ALL THE DOWNHILLS IN JAPAN
*
A few weeks after he joined Ryousuke's team, Takumi asked, "Are you gay?"
"Does it matter?" Ryousuke took a sip from his can of coffee, and watched Takumi's eyes.
As if he realized what Ryousuke was doing, Takumi shrugged and looked down at the ground. "Not really. Itsuki was being stupid again."
As usual, Ryousuke thought. But the boy was Takumi's best friend, so instead he said, "Let me know if it does. Are you still going to Usui tomorrow night?"
"I promised," Takumi said, and only a sidelong glance let Ryosuke know that his change of subject hadn't succeeded. But Takumi wouldn't ask again. Not tonight, at least.
*
He's not gay. But he's not straight, either. Nakazato once, not too long after they'd met, accused him of being car-sexual, and Ryousuke had to laugh, because that's closer to the truth than the usual slurs.
He doesn't sleep with other racers, men or women. It's bad strategy. He's gotten offers -- Kyoichi Sudoh most notably -- but he doesn't accept them. The race itself is enough. He needs that challenge, that rush as he pushes himself and his FC to the edge. In comparison, sex is awkward, frequently boring, and more messy than working on his car, without even a re-tuned engine to show for it.
He wonders what sort of challenge Takumi Fujiwara would be as a lover.
*
"You didn't even look," Takumi said mildly.
"Hmm?" Ryousuke had been automatically watching the road, studying the course as Takumi drove it. Occasionally he could see tire marks from the contest earlier.
"Mako-chan and Sayuki-chan were both wearing shirts cut..." Takumi gestured vaguely in the air, as if indicating the breasts that had been framed by the shirts in question. "And you didn't even look."
"Should I have?"
"No," Takumi said.
Ryousuke watched him for a minute, then went back to studying the road. He didn't bother suppressing his smile.
*
Ryousuke heard of Bunta Fujiwara from the man who taught him to drift. Yamamoto's first race was against Fujiwara, and he had the chance to race the man twice more before Fujiwara gave up racing. It was like a fairy tale: the man who never lost, the man who retired only to marry and have a family and run some sort of business (Yamamoto was vague on what sort).
Ryousuke listened to these stories, and wondered if Fujiwara-san was still happy, and if he could still drive like a demon. Ryousuke's father had already begun dropping hints about dangerous hobbies and the importance of keeping the hospital clinic in the family.
Years later, he finds out the answers are Not really and Yes. Takumi Fujiwara bears the marks of both.
*
"He's going to kiss you," Nakazato said.
"No, he's not," Ryousuke said absently. "Dammit, it's still running slow. I'll have to--"
"Did you even listen to me?"
"Of course I do," Ryousuke said, looking up from his computer. "You said Fujiwara is going to kiss me, without any sort of explanation or support for your suggestion."
"It's the way he looks at you."
"It's just the car."
"I thought he'd refused to drive your FC."
"He can still admire a good car."
Nakazato laughed, saluted Ryousuke with the tool he'd come over to grab, and returned to his GT-R. Ryousuke watched him go thoughtfully. Nakazato had his flaws as a driver -- he'd modified the 4WD GT-R so he could drift, which said quite a bit -- but he wasn't unobservant.
What he hadn't seen, or hadn't said, was the other half of the equation. If Takumi hadn't kissed Ryousuke by the time Project.D got underway, Ryousuke had every intention of kissing Takumi.
*
Ryousuke knows Natsuki Mogi only indirectly. He's glad of it, too, because if he ever met her, he'd be tempted to break one of her pretty legs. She's a distraction, and Takumi doesn't need distractions. He remembers chasing Takumi off alongside railroad tracks, and the hollow look in Takumi's eyes when he and Nakazato caught up.
When he's actually racing, Takumi doesn't really notice distractions. He's got better focus than most professionals. But when he's upset, he forgets things like tire wear and engine capacity, and just drives. As his rival, it's exhilarating. As his mentor, it's terrifying.
As his lover -- but he isn't Takumi's lover. Yet. Takumi's heart still aches for a stupid girl who wanted to have it both ways. And Ryousuke won't settle for some rebound crush, too quickly forgotten.
The scars from the father he can handle. These are more difficult.
*
Kenta was laughing when he finally skidded to a stop next to the 86 and rolled down his window. "Tofu delivery boy," he said. "You drive every single day, no matter what the weather is, don't you?"
Takumi nodded, looking down as if that would hide his little smile. In the back seat behind him, Fumihiro didn't bother hiding his.
Neither did Ryousuke. "The point's been proved," he said, stepping out onto the road as Fumihiro got out of Takumi's back seat. "Any other suggestions? Because I'm heading back up to the top to get someplace dry."
"In whose car?" Nakazato's voice over the radio crackled a bit: the rain wasn't helping the transmission. Of course, that could be more laughter, this time at Ryousuke's expense. He'd left the FC up at the starting line when he volunteered to come down to the finish.
"I'll take you," Takumi said abruptly.
"Thank you," Ryousuke said. He hadn't expected the offer, not with so many Red Suns around. But he wouldn't turn it down.
They went back up more slowly than they'd come down -- Takumi wasn't as familiar with Myogi as he was with Akina, no matter what his downhill time might have implied. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, broken only by the rain on the car roof and the windshield wipers going back and forth, Ryousuke said, "I'm surprised you didn't take your friend." Itsuki had come along, to cheer his friend on, he said. He'd also stayed at the top.
"He doesn't like my driving," Takumi said with a shrug. "The one time I raced with him in the car, he was sick for five days straight."
"Five days, huh? I thought he was a 'racing god.'"
"He doesn't call himself that any more," Takumi said, but he was smiling again.
"He doesn't dare with you around." Ryousuke fell silent as another car's headlights briefly flashed into the windshield, then vanished as the car passed them, headed downhill. "You're already picking up the gift of learning new courses."
"The courses aren't so different."
"Maybe not to you."
"I'm not that amazing," Takumi said.
"You keep saying that--"
"It doesn't seem real," Takumi said abruptly, as if he hadn't heard Ryousuke. He slowed the car still more. "A few months ago, I was just helping out the old man. I thought I knew where I was going, even if it was shitty. And now it's all different."
"Do you object?"
"No," Takumi said, and went silent.
They'd hit the final stretch, the slight downhill into the parking lot at the top of the mountain. Takumi sped up, just a little, and slid into the parking lot beautifully, right next to where Ryousuke had parked the FC. The perfect distance, Ryousuke thought in amusement. He could open the passenger door and the driver's door, slip from one car to the other, and barely get wet. Or at least, any more wet than he already was.
"Ryousuke-san..."
Ryousuke looked over at Takumi, just in time to catch Takumi's mouth as he leaned over and kissed him.
It was a quick kiss, not so much romantic as startling. Takumi pulled back immediately. He looked a little surprised himself, but mostly determined. When Ryousuke didn't immediately open the door and make a break for it, he leaned in again, more slowly this time.
This time, forewarned, Ryousuke kissed him back as enthusiastically as he dared, one hand coming up to cup Takumi's face. Takumi had apparently cast him as the 'girl': every time he tried to take control of the kiss, Takumi firmly took it back. Finally, Ryousuke broke the kiss, though he didn't lower his hand. "I should get home."
"Yes," Takumi said. He looked dazed.
Ryousuke let his hand trail down Takumi's arm to finally brush his hand. "I'll see you tomorrow." He opened the door at last, and was already in his car when he heard Takumi's belated, "Bye."
He started up the FC, and brushed his fingers over his lips as he watched the 86 pull back out of its parking space. Not perfect. But there would be other kisses. Besides, he'd never expected Takumi not to be a challenge.
*
Some racers talk about 'battle aura,' as if it were something you could see. Nakazato used to be one of them. Even now, sometimes, when he's drunk enough, he claims that he didn't pick Ryousuke out of the crowd of Red Suns by his car (because he wasn't in the FC at the time), but by the size of his...aura.
Ryousuke doesn't believe in 'battle aura.' Kyoichi Sudoh exudes only bad temper. Bunta Fujiwara smelled faintly of stale sake. And not even Nakazato, who says he can see such things, noticed the important person in the car during that first race on Akina.
(Nakazato says that Itsuki would cancel out anyone's battle aura if he was close enough, much less in the driver's seat. Ryousuke thinks he may have a point.)
On the other hand, Ryousuke also has never been chased down a course by the 86 and its driver, unless you count that brief period during their one official race so far. He's willing to admit that perhaps he'd feel differently if he were the pursued, rather than the pursuer.
*
Summer turned to fall. The challenges continued, official and unofficial: another race against the Emperors, this time on their home course; Takumi against the son of one of his father's old rivals. Fall darkened into winter. Itsuki mentioned at least three chance encounters (to Nakazato, not Ryousuke -- Ryousuke made him nervous, apparently), all of which Takumi won.
Late one night in January, Ryousuke's phone rang. He closed the research he'd been doing on one of the new team's prospective opponents, turned away from his computer, and answered it.
"It's Fujiwara," Takumi said. Ryousuke could hear his breathing, deep and shaky, as if he'd been running hard - - or crying. "Could you just...talk?"
"About what?" Ryousuke kept his own voice even from long habit. Either something had happened to the 86 again, or--
"I raced in the snow tonight."
"Against who?" So this was about a race. But Takumi didn't call him just to tell him about random races, or else he wouldn't have to beg information from Itsuki.
"Don't remember." Ryousuke could almost see the shrug. "Some bastard. He'd taken Natsuki-chan, and she called me."
Shit. "I see."
"It wasn't even a good race," Takumi added thoughtfully.
"I see." What? He'd braced himself for far worse. News of a love confession at the very least. Why had Takumi called him, if it wasn't to talk about the girl? Just in case, he said, "I'm not sure I can help you with Mogi-san --"
"Not about her." Takumi's breathing had evened out. If he had been crying, he'd stopped. "I get enough stupid advice about her from the old man. I just wanted to talk."
Ryousuke let himself relax back into his chair. "Then talk. What sort of race was it?"
Takumi had been right, unfortunately. It wasn't much of a race. His opponent either hadn't realized who he was up against, or hadn't been that good a driver to begin with. Takumi had scared him into a spin-out within three corners.
"And then what?" Ryousuke prompted, when Takumi fell silent.
"Ryousuke-san..." Takumi paused. Then, abruptly, "Never mind."
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing."
"If it's distracting you like this, it's not nothing." Ryousuke tipped his chair back, propping his feet against one of his desk drawers.
Another pause. Ryousuke imagined Takumi leaning against the counter in the tofu shop, staring off into space. Finally Takumi sighed and said, "Ryousuke-san, why do you let me kiss you?"
"Let you?" Ryousuke nearly laughed. "I enjoy kissing you. Why else?"
"Because of obligation," Takumi said, as if reading off a list. "Because you were setting something up. Because you felt sorry for me."
"No, none of those." Where was he getting this? From Mogi-san? What had he told her? What had she said?
"Do you want to go to a love hotel with me?"
"Is that an invitation?"
"Do you want to?" Takumi repeated. He'd lowered his voice, as if he didn't want to be overheard.
"Actually, I prefer the comfort of my own bed." Ryousuke could feel himself trembling, very faintly. Takumi had a gift for coming out of your blind spot. "If you'd like to come over for morning coffee --"
"Not tonight." He didn't think it was his imagination that Takumi sounded wistful. "See you later, Ryousuke-san."
"Later," Ryousuke said, and hung up.
It took him several minutes to be able to focus on anything but the memory of Takumi's mouth on his. Why do you let me kiss you? Whatever Natsuki had said to Takumi, Ryousuke was no longer sure who was ahead in their private race.
*
Ryousuke is not a virgin.
He's never thought much of virginity. Yes, there's something special about the first time you drive your car, but a good racer chooses a car and learns its every trick, its every vibration, so he knows how to push it to its utmost. Back when Ryousuke started racing, he tested several different kinds of cars before settling on the FC.
Takumi has never driven anything but his 86. (And Itsuki's 85, which hardly counts.) Even when the engine blew, he refused to abandon it. With the new engine, he's unstoppable.
Takumi is, to Ryousuke's knowledge, a virgin.
Ryousuke thinks he should abandon this metaphor before it gets him in trouble.
*
"Here you go," Nakazato said, tossing Ryousuke a tape. "Scouting results."
Ryousuke caught it easily. "Thank you."
He expected Nakazato to go back to his GT-R. Instead, the other man hesitated for a moment. "You sure you know what you're doing?"
"With this?" Ryousuke hefted the scouting tape. "Of course."
"With Fujiwara," Nakazato said.
Ah. "Yes."
"Good," Nakazato said. He looked over Ryousuke's shoulder, to where Takumi leaned half out of the driver's seat of the 86, talking with Fumihiro about acceleration speed. "See you tomorrow."
Ryousuke waved him off, and waited, eyes carefully fixed on the scouting tape, until he heard the GT-R pull out and head down Akagi. Then he turned and walked over to the 86. "Nearly finished?"
"There's nothing to do," Fumihiro said wryly, closing the hood on the 86. "Not until we know where we're going."
"I'm making that decision soon," Ryousuke assured him. "Fujiwara?"
"All set," Takumi said.
"Do you have to go home immediately?"
"Not really, no." Takumi was almost smiling, or trying to hide his smile. "So long as I'm home by three."
"Then follow me," Ryousuke said, and pretended not to notice the discreet thumb's-up that Fumihiro flashed him.
Takumi didn't hesitate when Ryousuke turned up the driveway to the Takahashi house, although his eyes were wider than usual as he got out of the 86, and he said something under his breath about not having gotten a gift for his host. Ryousuke grinned at him over his shoulder. "There's no one here but us, Fujiwara. And I don't need a host gift."
"It's still polite," Takumi said. But he followed Ryousuke in without any further protests.
Whatever his other intentions -- and he certainly had them -- Ryosuke kept to his priorities. First, watch the scouting tape. Project.D was too important to risk. Takumi agreed, even without being asked: he watched the tape besides Ryousuke with only the occasional "huh" or "hmm." When they hit the end, Ryousuke rewound it, then started again. Not up near the top, but farther down...even with those dangerously open gutters, it should be possible...
"What are you planning?" Takumi asked quietly.
"What makes you think I'm planning something?"
"You get a look in your eyes," Takumi said. "Like you're driving down a course that no one else can see yet, absolutely focused."
Ryousuke blinked, looking away from the video. "I hadn't realized I was so obvious."
Takumi shrugged. "Maybe I've just been around you. What are you planning?"
"Nothing for certain," Ryousuke said easily. "Not until I've driven the actual course." According to his father, Takumi worked best when given oblique hints, and told to work it out for himself. If Bunta had told the truth, he'd be better off telling Takumi his theory only on the night of the actual race. If then.
"I see," Takumi murmured, and frowned at the screen as if it would tell him.
Ryousuke watched him for a moment, then said, "One more time through. We shouldn't get too many preconceptions, or we won't be able to drive the course properly."
He didn't need a third time through to study the course. Neither did Takumi. But the tape playing gave him the excuse to shift on the couch, half his attention on Takumi, waiting for a countdown that he suspected only he could hear.
Then Takumi glanced over and caught his eye.
Ryousuke hoped, for the sake of his pride, that he was the one who leaned over and kissed Takumi. But he couldn't be certain. They were kissing, however, and completely ignoring the tape. A bit of careful squirming, and they were lying on the couch next to each other, Takumi half on top of Ryousuke.
Things progressed quickly from there. Takumi flinched when Ryousuke tugged off his shirt, but Ryousuke kissed him again, and didn't even try to look at the scars his fingers found. Ryousuke didn't flinch when Takumi returned the favor, although he did gasp when Takumi lingered over his nipples, licking one experimentally. He hadn't expected the pang of feeling, tugging at nerves he'd never particularly paid attention to.
Takumi slid down, taking one nipple in his teeth and tugging gently. Ryousuke swallowed another gasp, and caught him by the shoulder. "Fujiwara, I'm not a girl."
Takumi raised his head. "I know," he said.
"Neither are you." Ryousuke brushed one hand over Takumi's chest to demonstrate, and felt Takumi's breath catch. Hmm. Perhaps not the best example.
But rather than arching into the touch, or freezing in unexpected panic, Takumi pushed himself up onto his elbows and said, "So what do two men do together?" His face was flushed.
"Not what you're thinking," Ryousuke said, and slid his fingertips into the waist of Takumi's jeans, petting along the skin there. Takumi's hips jerked forward, pressing a very nice erection against Ryousuke's leg. "I don't want to fuck you."
"You don't?" Takumi ground his hips down again, more deliberately this time, one leg sliding between Ryousuke's to press against his own erection.
"Not like this, I don't."
"Then what do you want?" Takumi frowned down at him, sounding exasperated.
Ryousuke kissed him again. "For the moment," he said, pulling back just far enough for the words to come clear, "I want to get rid of these." He tugged at Takumi's jeans.
Takumi kissed him back, then rolled off him to stand in front of the couch, unzip his jeans, and carefully pull off his jeans. The boxers, unfortunately, stayed in place. He let the jeans drop to the floor, and stood there in front of Ryousuke, illuminated by the frozen image of the finish line on the TV behind him.
"Beautiful," Ryousuke told him.
Takumi's eyes narrowed, and he knelt down in front of Ryousuke and attacked the fastenings of his slacks. Ryousuke lay back and helped, as much as he was allowed, smiling when Takumi's hands slowed. He hadn't worn underwear today. But Takumi didn't look shocked. Instead, he sat back on his heels and tugged Ryousuke's slacks down his legs, then carefully took Ryousuke in one hand.
"Takumi --" He was getting passed on the outside, Ryousuke thought in frustration. He reached down, petting Takumi's hair, then running his fingers down along Takumi's cheek and up over his lips. Takumi's grip loosened, and he looked up, eyes dark and expecting.
Ryousuke took advantage of the chance to move. He tugged Takumi up into his place on the couch, and slid down to kneel in front of him instead. Takumi blinked, and tried to sit up straight. "Ryousuke-san --"
"You're thinking too hard," Ryousuke said, and pulled Takumi's boxers down off his hips as carefully as he could. Takumi raised his hips, still blinking down at him, and only then seemed to realize what Ryousuke was doing. He opened his mouth as if to protest again. Not this time, Ryousuke thought, and bent to lick Takumi's cock.
Takumi sagged back against the couch again with a strangled moan, and didn't object when Ryousuke sat back enough to pull his boxers the rest of the way off. Ryousuke watched him from under his lashes for a moment. He wasn't going to fool himself that he'd won that easily, but at least it might give him the lead. He settled between Takumi's legs again, and licked him once more before taking him into his mouth.
He'd forgotten how long it had been since he'd done this. His jaw ached after a while, and he had to stop occasionally, using his hand instead, keeping Takumi to his slower rhythm. Let it build. He wanted Takumi to enjoy this, to want this, to want it again -- not just stolen kisses, but more. And Takumi let him, hands fisted on the couch, breath hitching every time Ryousuke swallowed around him. He was watching every time Ryousuke looked up. Not off in his own head, imagining someone else, but watching, as if he wanted to know it was Ryousuke who was slowly, luxuriously sucking him off.
One last lick along the underside of Takumi's cock, and Ryousuke looked up again. "What do you want?"
"Ah -- Ryousuke-sa --" Takumi let go of the couch, and shakily reached out, not quite touching Ryousuke. "Ryousuke, please, more, finish me!"
He could make him beg, Ryousuke thought in silent triumph. But not now. Instead, he leaned forward again, and sucked hard, both hands on Takumi's hips to hold him down. It almost didn't matter, as Takumi tensed up - and then came in Ryousuke's mouth, with only a broken moan to warn him, if he'd needed warning.
Ryousuke swallowed, and sat back on his heels, licking his lips. He was distantly aware of his own arousal, but it wasn't important. He could wait until -- what the fuck?
Takumi slid down off the couch bonelessly, to straddle Ryousuke's lap and take his cock in hand again. Ryousuke looked down at that in bewilderment, then back up at Takumi. "What are you--"
"I'm not going to be an obligation," Takumi told him. His eyes had narrowed with that same focused glitter that he got when he was driving.
Ryousuke wanted to protest. He could wait. It wasn't about -- Takumi didn't need to -- damn it, Takumi wasn't supposed to be good at this. It was just his hand, moving faster, reminding Ryousuke of the desire he'd pushed aside so it wouldn't distract him. And Takumi's other hand, brushing teasingly light across the nipples that weren't supposed to be this sensitive, he wasn't a girl --
Too late. He stifled the sound of Takumi's name against his shoulder.
He'd left out tissues, at least, so it only took a few minutes to clean up. Then Takumi rose to his feet, wavering a bit. "Could I use your shower?"
"Down the hall," Ryousuke told him, and waited to get up until Takumi had vanished. He didn't feel any steadier than Takumi had looked, and he wanted a shower too. Lucky he had more than one bathroom.
He finished before Takumi, with enough time to gather up Takumi's clothing and lay it, folded, outside the door of the bathroom Takumi was using. He had just finished rewinding the course tape when Takumi emerged hesitantly. Ryousuke glanced over at him, then back at the tape as it popped out of the machine. "There's coffee if you'd like it."
"No, thank you. Not this time." Ryousuke could hear the footsteps approaching, and he looked back up in time to see Takumi's soft smile, and catch the gentle kiss.
"I should be getting home," Takumi said, as if he hadn't done anything startling. "See you tomorrow."
"See you," Ryousuke echoed, and stared after Takumi as he left the room again. Not this time?
At least he'll never have to worry about being bored. He still has records to set on all the mountains of Japan. And in between, there's Takumi Fujiwara.
-end-