Original - Sanada Kiyoshi/Shishido Imai - Romance
Title: Late Night Call
Author/Artist: Kim
Theme: Romance
Rating: PG
It took Sanada Kiyoshi two weeks of coffee and surreptitiously watching a nimble pink tongue lick chocolate creme off pale lips to convince Shishido Imai to take his phone number. Much longer than Kiyoshi had ever taken before, but something about the progressively more spirited conversations they'd find themselves embroiled in at the coffee shop made the extra effort worthwhile.
Kiyoshi had smiled his most charming smile and asked if Imai would like to break their little lunch tradtion and have dinner together the next night instead. The sudden, dark flash of pain deep within Imai's blue eyes wiped the smile off Kiyoshi's face. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he scribbled his own, privately guarded home number down on a slip of paper. Kiyoshi's string of girlfriends in the past had been considered lucky to get his cell number.
Imai's hand was soft and smooth and almost as pale as the white paper when Kiyoshi pressed his number into the boy's hand. The delicate fingers instinctively closed around the slip, lightly brushing against Kiyoshi's own suntanned hand. Kiyoshi held on for a heartbeat longer than was considered polite, "Call me. It doesn't matter why or when."
Imai turned a blazing shade of pink as his hand was finally released but was smiling softly as Kiyoshi picked up their argument over whether or not Mircea Eliade was full of pretentious bullshit. The little slip of paper was carefully tucked away in a pocket inside Imai's bag.
Much to Kiyoshi's dismay, Imai did not show up at the coffee shop the next day. He had even made himself late to a meeting in hopes the quiet boy had been uncharacteristicly running late.
It was almost 2 AM when the phone rang, interrupting Kiyoshi's late night picture developing. He grumbled as he went to the phone, fully prepared to bitch out his little brother for calling.
"I... I can't go home like this."
The quiet, stifled sob was definitely not Kiyoshi's little brother. He quickly gave Imai directions to his apartment. 20 minutes later, a disheveled, red eyed Imai showed up at the door.
Kiyoshi didn't say anything as he let the boy in, even though Imai walked stiffly and sported a developing bruise at the corner of his mouth. He simply wrapped his arms around Imai and pulled him close.
Imai's arms snaked around Kiyoshi's waist. "I'm sorry," he whispered into Kiyoshi's chest.
Kiyoshi sighed and looked down at his shivering armful. He smoothed some of Imai's hair back out of his face and grinned. "I'll put the coffee on."
Author/Artist: Kim
Theme: Romance
Rating: PG
It took Sanada Kiyoshi two weeks of coffee and surreptitiously watching a nimble pink tongue lick chocolate creme off pale lips to convince Shishido Imai to take his phone number. Much longer than Kiyoshi had ever taken before, but something about the progressively more spirited conversations they'd find themselves embroiled in at the coffee shop made the extra effort worthwhile.
Kiyoshi had smiled his most charming smile and asked if Imai would like to break their little lunch tradtion and have dinner together the next night instead. The sudden, dark flash of pain deep within Imai's blue eyes wiped the smile off Kiyoshi's face. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he scribbled his own, privately guarded home number down on a slip of paper. Kiyoshi's string of girlfriends in the past had been considered lucky to get his cell number.
Imai's hand was soft and smooth and almost as pale as the white paper when Kiyoshi pressed his number into the boy's hand. The delicate fingers instinctively closed around the slip, lightly brushing against Kiyoshi's own suntanned hand. Kiyoshi held on for a heartbeat longer than was considered polite, "Call me. It doesn't matter why or when."
Imai turned a blazing shade of pink as his hand was finally released but was smiling softly as Kiyoshi picked up their argument over whether or not Mircea Eliade was full of pretentious bullshit. The little slip of paper was carefully tucked away in a pocket inside Imai's bag.
Much to Kiyoshi's dismay, Imai did not show up at the coffee shop the next day. He had even made himself late to a meeting in hopes the quiet boy had been uncharacteristicly running late.
It was almost 2 AM when the phone rang, interrupting Kiyoshi's late night picture developing. He grumbled as he went to the phone, fully prepared to bitch out his little brother for calling.
"I... I can't go home like this."
The quiet, stifled sob was definitely not Kiyoshi's little brother. He quickly gave Imai directions to his apartment. 20 minutes later, a disheveled, red eyed Imai showed up at the door.
Kiyoshi didn't say anything as he let the boy in, even though Imai walked stiffly and sported a developing bruise at the corner of his mouth. He simply wrapped his arms around Imai and pulled him close.
Imai's arms snaked around Kiyoshi's waist. "I'm sorry," he whispered into Kiyoshi's chest.
Kiyoshi sighed and looked down at his shivering armful. He smoothed some of Imai's hair back out of his face and grinned. "I'll put the coffee on."