Innocent Deception
Title: Innocent Deception (1/?)
Pairing: TegoMasu (YamaPi & Koyama as support & some OCs)
Genre: Romance
Rating: for now, PG
Disclaimer: purely fiction
Summary: Massu is a wealthy businessman who had just acquired a restaurant about to be closed down. Yuya is an heir to his daddy’s fortune. . . . . .It only took one chance, one meeting, where Yuya caught Massu’s interest with his impetuousness, not to mention his sexiness. Massu made Yuya want to break the rules, to flirt with the danger in his eyes - Yuya wondered if challenging the handsome restaurant owner would get him kissed or kicked out. Sparks started flying from the first time that they met, but bitter past experiences had taught them both that people might want more than their love.
Yuya’s family’s wealth had cushioned his life, and his friends had protected him from faithless lovers. . . . . . The more Massu learned about Yuya, the more he wanted to know, but his mysterious Yuya kept too many secrets. . . . . . Could Yuya trust him?
A/N 1 - credits to shingung for beta (thanks much)
A/N 2 - this is dedicated to my friends and LJ family. I hope you like this guys, you are the reasons behind these stories/fics.
Chapter 1
They have been driving for a half hour and Yuya is famished. It’s past eight o’clock now and the last time he had eaten was at brunch. They had a long day working at the gallery today. The opening is in three days and they have yet to finish redesigning the interior, so they worked all afternoon. It was already dark when they finally succumbed to hunger. Koyama had suggested that they just cook dinner but no, Yuya picked that time to eat at the Corner Grill, a restaurant famous for steaks in the past but the owner had to sell due to bankruptcy. Eversince the acquisition of the new owner, Yuya had wanted to try the restaurant again but he had never had the time until now, and what Yuya wants, Yuya gets. It doesn’t matter that his stomach had been making noises eversince they left the gallery. He had set his mind into eating at the Corner Grill, so Koyama just rolled his eyes.
When they finally arrived at the restaurant, Yuya’s companions went ahead and waited for him by the entrance while he parks his car. He parked around the corner, got off and crossed the parking lot towards the restaurant, but as he walked, he tripped into a pothole, causing him to lose his balance. His quick reflexes saved him from falling flat on the muddy ground - with his hands supporting his fall.
He quickly got up and cursed himself for being stupid, and forgetting to wear his glasses. He glanced around, checking to see if someone had seen his fall. Sure enough, he saw his two companions looking at his direction, their shoulders shaking with mirth, which caused him to curse the pothole, the parking lot and the new owner of the restaurant. He squared his shoulders, straightened his hair and headed towards the entrance, where his companions are waiting for him. He glared at them as he closed their distance.
Inside, he noticed a small mirror by the wall so he lagged behind, letting his two companions get ahead of him to find a table for them. His eyes narrowed as he noticed their movement being blocked by the headwaiter, so he called out “Is there a problem YamaPi?” When there was no response, he shrugged and turned his attention back on the mirror.
He leaned closer, making sure that everything looks presentable enough, and then he shook his head. There was something decidedly messy about his reflection and he eyed it suspiciously, fairly certain that he didn’t look good enough. The face that looked back at him was equally wary, and disheveled as a whole. His hair was in total disarray, escaping whatever style it had been in, when they left the gallery. He cursed silently, blaming his less than impeccable appearance on the pothole. One pothole, and his thick hair now falls in uncalculated disorder. As his slender fingers reached up to try and fix the errant curls, he noticed a streak of dirt across his cheek which he wiped off with his palm. Satisfied with the result, he ran his pinkie along the edge of his lips, correcting the smudge of his lip gloss and turned away from the mirror.
“YamaPi?” Noticing that they still don’t have a table he called out again, drawing on the last reserve of his patience as his nose caught a whiff of something being fried. His stomach grumbled again at the smell. He was famished, much too hungry to stand around while his companions argue with the hired help about where they were going to sit, so he crossed the foyer and elbowed his way to stand between Koyama and YamaPi, making it three very hungry customers against one slightly alarmed headwaiter.
“Just what exactly is the problem here?” he asked.
“Not much of a problem really, but it seems they don’t have a table for us.” YamaPi said mildly, a flicker of amusement crossing his features as he nodded toward the nearly empty room beyond the headwaiter’s shoulder.
Yuya looked around the room for a brief moment and looked the headwaiter in the eye, raised an eyebrow, and asked softly “You don’t have a table for us?” Then his eyes narrowed on the increasingly uneasy waiter, measuring his apparent determination to deny them a table against his own apparent hunger.
There was no contest.
Sensing correctly that his two companions were likely to let him take the lead, Yuya stepped forward, not speaking, until he was almost eyeball to eyeball with the waiter. “it appears to me that you have several tables that are vacant right now.” Taking care not to let his tongue trip over his temper, he continued, “As a matter of fact, most of your tables are vacant, and if I wasn’t so hungry at the moment, I would think that there’s something wrong with this place. Empty tables usually mean the food is . . . . . . mediocre . . . . .or worse.”
“I thought you said the food here was great?” Koyama grumbled behind Yuya.
Yuya shrugged off Koyama’s implied error in his judgment because the quality of the food is not the issue right now. It’s the obvious lack of respect that the restaurant’s staff has with their prospective customers. Instead, he once again raised an eyebrow at the headwaiter’s continued silence, and crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot on the floor.
The headwaiter, judging that Yuya would not be perturbed at all, swallowed, and then squared his shoulders - a doomed attempt to regain control of the situation. I’m sorry, but we have certain . . . . . . err . . . . . dress code.” He cleared his throat.
“And you think my friend isn’t up to snuff?” he asked quietly, cocking his head at Koyama’s direction. He assumed the waiter was referring to Koyama who looked a little scruffy in his shirt tucked into coveralls, and he mentally kicked himself for putting him in this embarrassing position. They have been doing some painting at his gallery and in his hunger, he had not let Koyama change his clothes. Koyama protested but Yuya dragged him along despite his protests.
Apparently the waiter agreed with him. Yuya began to slowly boil inside, half wishing that they had chosen somewhere else to eat dinner tonight, but no, he had eaten at the Corner Grill in the past and found its food to his liking, so he had insisted on dining there. He recalled the last time he had eaten there, early last spring, when people in sweat suits, vying with people in shorts and tank tops for the tables by the windows. Even so, he had to admit his own trio is a bit odd-looking. But still, he was not about to let one headwaiter get in the way of his hunger.
Koyama, his arms folded across his chest, fixed Yuya with his I told you so stare. Looking at him, Yuya noticed that Koyama had not quite managed to brush off the sawdust from his hair.
YamaPi, naturally, looked as he always did - elegant in his wool slacks and a cashmere sweater. Of course he would, Yuya thought. YamaPi had never gone anywhere unprepared. And now, standing just behind Koyama, he took on an appearance of an interested observer.
For his part, Yuya could only say that he was pretty sure that his white shirt, jeans and knee length jacket were appropriate to almost any environment. He turned back to the waiter, starting to lose his patience now.
“I really don’t see why my friend’s attire is considered to be inappropriate, but --------------“
“Jumping to conclusions, aren’t you?” drawled a deep voice from behind them.
Yuya could swear that he felt the earth quake at the sound of that masculine voice; followed by a spark that shot up and down his spine in reaction to the husky drawl of the newcomer. He smothered a gasp at the sensation. He did not turn right away to face the source of the voice, but as he did, he was surprised to see that the face was an even bigger treat than the voice.
He stood just a few feet away, leaning casually against the nearby doorway, submitting to Yuya’s stare. Yuya took in the expensive suit and wondered if the man was at all conscious of how broad his shoulders were under that suit. His skin was quite tanned, and his hair almost black. He was taller than him, and older, Yuya thought. Around 28, he guessed. His eyes seemed to reach out and pull Yuya out across the room for a closer inspection. And Yuya almost succumbed to that look. He would have stepped forward had he not noticed the amusement lurking in the corners of the man’s eyes.
“Excuse me?” he asked. His voice was a little ragged, but it was the best he could do at the moment.
“I said you were jumping to conclusions. There is nothing wrong with your companions -- or their appearances.” Flexing his shoulders to move away from the doorway, he walked across the foyer until he was standing beside the flustered headwaiter.
“Who are you?” Yuya asked boldly, feeling a flush of color on his face as the man’s eyes narrowed on him, excluding YamaPi and Koyama. He stood his ground during the scrutiny because it gave him a chance to study the man at the same time. It was an endless moment, though perhaps only a couple of seconds, before he answered the question.
“Masuda Takahisa. I own the place.”
“Masuda Takahisa” Yuya repeated softly, all his nerve endings quivering once again at his husky drawl.
Masuda cocked his head at the waiter and continued as though Yuya had not interrupted him. “What he was trying to say was that it was you who were not following the dress code. Suffice it to say that your own attire is less than desirable.” And his gaze raked from head to toe, lingering on the area below his knees as though to make a point.
“What!” Yuya exclaimed. The nerve of this man! He was fuming mad now, steadfastly refusing to believe that this was actually happening to him. He had never been before refused service at any kind of place and certainly not because he was wearing skinny jeans.
“Look at yourself,” Masuda suggested, a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. “Would you let someone with mud on his clothes eat at your table?” he continued and quirked an eyebrow.
“He’s got a point, Yuya.” YamaPi said. “You are a little on the ragged side tonight.”
Yuya was too busy staring down at his jeans that he let the sarcasm go. No matter, he thought, staring at the mud that clung to his jeans, he can get even with YamaPi another time. He smiled, noticing that the mud had not reached his jacket.
“I tripped in a pothole on my way inside.” He said to Masuda in defense of the state of his jeans. He was irritated that he hadn’t noticed the mud earlier, but he smiled sweetly at the headwaiter, embarrassed that he had misconstrued his hesitation to seat them earlier. Sighing at his stupidity, but not willing to back down, he said, albeit exaggeratingly “I guess I didn’t realize I had rolled in a mud bath.”
Koyama, clearly amused, drawled “You should have said something.” This is gonna be fun he thought.
YamaPi joined in, amusement clear in his voice. “But still, this would not have happened if you had let me park the car.”
“Over my dead body!” Yuya muttered loudly, loud enough for all the other men to hear. “You know how I feel about anybody else driving my car.”
“Still, you should have let me come with you. You know you’re blind as a bat at night.” YamaPi continued.
“I can see perfectly well,” he countered coolly, his eyes stinging daggers at YamaPi. Koyama chuckled. Pretty soon, the tables will turn on the young restaurateur. He knows this line of argument too well.
“Sure you can,” YamaPi said. “Except when it’s night or when the sun goes down.” His lips quivered with amusement.
“That’s what the glasses are for, sweetcakes. If you had not been so afraid that the restaurant will close down before I have parked, we all could have fallen in the mud. Speaking of which,” he suddenly turned to Masuda Takahisa, with a belated sense of indignation and said, “Your parking lot leaves a lot to be desired for. It’s a total disgrace. The potholes are deadly!” he said in exaggeration, pausing for a brief moment and then continued. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t wearing shorts, otherwise, I could have scraped my legs.”
“You have my apologies, of course.” Masuda murmured with amusement at the counterattack. “As long as you are not otherwise hurt--------“
“I AM NOT!” Yuya said indignantly. Wishing Masuda would quit looking at him as though he wanted to test him for broken bones. It was enough that his spine is still shivering because of that sexy drawl, he did not need his eyes to go to work on the rest of his body too.
“Don’t worry. It’s on my list of things to do. Fixing the parking lot,” Masuda added, as though he was aware that Yuya is having trouble following the conversation. “It occurs to me though that it was pretty unsafe, not to mention foolish, to walk by yourself alone at night.”
“Because I’m small? Because I look frail, you mean?” Yuya asked softly, not minding at all that this is not a battle of his own choosing, because he would seize any opportunity to linger with this new acquaintance. “Well for your information, this area is pretty safe and even if I walk fifty feet by myself, I don’t believe I will be in any immediate danger.” Besides which, he can take care of any would-be attackers, but he won’t tell Masuda because then, the argument would be over, and he rather liked crossing words with him.
“If you were with me, you wouldn’t have that choice.” Masuda drawled softly, shooting a clearly disapproving glance at YamaPi.
“But I’m not with you, am I?” Yuya replied evenly, wondering at the same time what it would be like to be with this intriguing stranger. “I’m with them,” inclining his head at YamaPi and Koyama, smiled sweetly, and continued “And we would like to eat.”
“There’s still the problem of your pants. Like I said earlier, we can’t allow customers to eat here with dirt on their clothes.” Masuda reminded him, and again critically eyed Yuya’s jeans.
“Then I guess if I can’t eat wearing it, then I would have to change.” Yuya murmured. His teeth gently gnawed on his bottom lip as he considered what to do.
The mischievous glint in his eyes should have warned Masuda that he had hit the wrong button. YamaPi knew it and his lips curled with amusement. Koyama had his suspicions and chuckled. Yuya is once again on a roll, and God help Masuda.
But Masuda didn’t know it. He had no idea at all what Yuya had in mind. Even when he saw Yuya gather the folds of his jacket in his hands, he still had no idea. But when Yuya’s fingers found the top button of his jeans, he knew. He caught his breath, his chest swelling under almost undeniable pleasure as he watch Yuya’s fingers toy with the button. His gaze darted to Yuya’s face, noticing the mischievous glint in his eyes, he looked back down to Yuya’s fingers just in time to see his thumb pushing the button through its hole. Disbelief warred with the blatant evidence before him. What the devil is he playing at ~ he thought. Then as if understanding Masuda’s need to breathe, Yuya dropped the folds of the jacket, hiding the movement of his fingers.
When Masuda heard the faint sizzle of the zipper being released, he moved closer towards Yuya, standing so near to him. Quietly, he gave Yuya another option. “There’s a washroom down the hall.”
Yuya smiled, partly because Masuda had not called his bluff, but mostly because standing so close to him, he could see the erratic pulse beating at his throat. Feeling reckless, he asked Masuda, keeping his voice low so YamaPi and Koyama wouldn’t hear. “You don’t want to watch?”
“That’s not what I said,” Masuda muttered, holding his gaze. “I just don’t want anyone else to watch. And besides, I’ll bet your boyfriend here isn’t at all that eager to have me see you strip either.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Yuya said softly.
“Lover?” The thought of them being lovers hit him hard. A boyfriend he could work around, but a lover is something else, and there’s nothing he can do about that.
“Not lovers either.” Yuya shook his head. His smile widened as he saw the look of relief in Masuda’s face.
“Makes sense, no wonder he’s letting you pull a stunt like this.”
“Like what?” Yuya asked innocently enough. He had never before flirted openly like this. He had always been careful. But something in Masuda made him reckless and he just couldn’t help himself. Something in Masuda’s eyes made him want to break the rules. “This jacket is perfectly decent. See, it even reaches down to my thighs. Even if I take my jeans off, I would still look decent.” He tiptoed, glancing at YamaPi. The warning in his eyes, underneath his amused expression, was enough to tell Yuya that it’s time to get back to modesty. He smiled, rocking back on his heels, and looked Masuda straight in the eye and said. “I guess I’ll just go to the washroom,” and he started towards the hallway.
Before he could take another step though, Masuda snagged his wrist to stop his movement and whispered “Next time you plan to do a striptease, warn me. I’ll find us someplace more private - where we can both enjoy it.”
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So, what do you think will happen next? Care to guess?