Yuletide 2008 - Gravitation [Tatsuha/Ryuichi, Tohma/Eiri; PG-13], [Tohma/Eiri; PG]
Title: All in the Family
Author: chaineddove
Fandom: Gravitation
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Crack
Pairing: Implied Ryuichi/Tatsuha, implied Tohma/Eiri if you’re looking for it.
Wordcount: 554
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, but I hope this fic will bring a smile to someone’s face ♥
Author’s Notes: Tatsuha shares the details of his personal life, although Eiri definitely Doesn’t Want to Know. My Yule gift to umarekawareru. The prompt was: “It’ll be okay as long as Tatsuha’s only a part-time monk!” If you want to read it as being in Stars-verse, a few years later, believe me, I won’t stop you ^.~
***
He is stuck in an apartment with his brother and Tohma, which is not the most ideal situation he could have imagined. But there is an unexpected winter storm blowing outside and Tatsuha is almost spectacularly drunk, and as much as he doesn’t want Tatsuha to be here, he wants Tatsuha to break his neck marginally less, and he has no doubt that that is what would happen were Tatsuha to attempt returning home in his current condition.
Unfortunately, alcohol makes Tatsuha painfully candid, and the conversation has long since descended into the realms of Things Eiri Never Wanted to Know. In self-defense, he began drinking about an hour ago, but even the buzz isn’t quite enough and he is all too sure of remembering this come morning.
“The old man is probably rolling over in his grave,” Eiri announces. This stings less than it has over the last year but more than he expected it to, back when he was younger and wishing his father would die and leave them all in peace.
“He’s used to it by now,” Tatsuha replies, slurring his words. “I mean, considering. It’s basically all in the family anyway, isn’t it, considering you and Mika and your shared-”
“We’re not talking about my life, thanks,” Eiri cuts off. “Some monk you are. I thought you were going to sell the place, anyway.”
“It’s only when we don’t have services! And anyway, my dear shrine maidens would be really disappointed if I left them now. And they like Ryuichi-san! Our love is so pure that it transcends the-”
“Yeah right,” Eiri says, taking another swig. The last thing he needs is to attempt to wrap his mind around the idea of his brother and Tohma’s former lover doing whatever it is they do on the porch by the koi pond. Considering he and his brother are pretty alike in some ways, the whatever it is is probably interesting, in a distressingly perverted kind of way, but it’s all a little close to home.
“I think it’s sweet,” Tohma pipes in, coming out of the kitchen and wiping his hands on his brightly patterned floury apron.
“No one asked you,” Eiri says with no real heat. “I think it’s wrong, for a lot of reasons including the painfully obvious ones, like the fact that it’s probably sacrilegious to screw in a temple between services. Not that I haven’t done my share, but at least I’m not pretending to be a religious authority figure.”
“You nearly became one,” Tohma points out as Tatsuha explodes, “I’m not pretending!”
“Well,” Tohma says, “in any case, considering you’re a part-time monk at best-”
“Hey!” Tatsuha protests, but Tohma blithely continues on, ignoring him.
“If you’re not bothering anyone, then as long as you keep him happy, you’ve my blessing.”
“Which no one asked you for, either,” Eiri grumbles.
“I frequently dispense kindness without being asked, which is why you love me,” Tohma announces with an angelic look on his face. He goes so far as to patronizingly pat Eiri on the head.
Tatsuha bursts into hysterical laughter and falls off the couch. Eiri grunts, “Yeah, right.”
“So, no cake then?” Tohma asks innocently.
“Never said that much,” Eiri tells him. “I’ll eat the damn cake.”
“I thought you might,” Tohma says smugly. “It’s strawberry.”
***
Title: Sunday Morning
Author: chaineddove
Fandom: Gravitation
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff
Pairing: Tohma/Eiri
Wordcount: 900
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, but I hope this fic will bring a smile to someone’s face ♥
Author’s Notes: Tohma and Eiri share a quiet morning and an old memory. My Yule gift to she_universe. The prompt was: “piano.” Set after the (as-yet-unwritten, oops) conclusion of Shooting Stars, so be aware! This fic grew completely out of the Maroon 5 song of the same title, which just happened to be on the radio at the time.
***
Tohma doesn’t compose much these days. The greater part of his work is managerial; he’s bought out three smaller record companies and is working on acquiring a fourth. He is in the office most of the day, charming sponsors and terrifying producers who are not working as hard as he believes they should be. His face is still smooth and ageless and if he hadn’t spent the majority of his youth in the spotlight, no one would be likely to guess his age (as it is, the industry is still reeling from the lavish party held for his fortieth birthday - at least partially because he indulged the gathering and gave a brief performance, still looking like the twenty-something rock star he hasn’t been in years). He is still hard on those who work for him and endlessly generous with those he loves. His son is sweetly manipulative and outrageously spoiled, and he likely spends more time at the baby grand piano in the parlor than Tohma does, these days.
Still, he has occasional breaks in his schedule. Every once in awhile, on a lazy weekend morning, with a beam of sunlight slanting across the floor, he will sit and play for an hour or two, modulating from one key to another, changing moods with a roll of his fingers across the ivory keys, filling the penthouse with the comforting sounds of his music and all the memories it invokes.
Some of his memories will always be fuzzy, but Eiri remembers this, more as a feeling than an image: the warmth of the sunlight, the flow of the music, the comfort of home. Things have changed over the years, but this has come back to him, at least, and he treads softly in the kitchen, listening. He is not here every morning or even every other morning, but it has become more frequent over the last year or so, and when Tohma is at the piano Eiri finds himself lingering before he returns to his empty apartment, which is looking less lived-in every day. He prefers the scent of coffee and the cadences of the piano to the impersonal silence which reigns in his own space.
No one knows the way he does that the music in Tohma’s mind is still alive and well. Although no one has forgotten the legendary Tohma of Nittle Grasper, common belief is that in the way of young geniuses, he has burned out. Everyone assumes that he has moved into the administrative milieu because he is no longer able to produce best selling records, but Eiri knows the truth on days like this, when the notes float from the doorway, gentle and teasing, playful and somber, soft and brilliant. As an artist of a sort himself, Eiri understands that it isn’t that the music is gone; it is more that Tohma no longer feels the need to prove himself by sharing it, and keeps it guardedly close to his heart.
The kitchen floor is cool against Eiri’s bare feet and his coffee cup is hot in his hands. In the quiet of a winter morning, the notes of the piano dance and swirl around the quietly efficient hum of the heat pumping from the vents. The music is cheerful and energized, and Eiri can guess the musician’s mood from that alone. They have spent the last few years slowly re-learning how to be in tune with each other, and although it is not always easy, it is generally satisfying, or at the very least anything but boring. Today’s Tohma is happy and well rested, perhaps even a little playful. As he enters the parlor, Eiri can see he has guessed correctly; there is a small smile on Tohma’s lips as his fingers flutter over the keys. There is sunlight on the carpet and the scene is so nostalgic that he only hesitates a few moments before he walks over and settles on the edge of the piano bench, not quite touching. There is a shift in the melody, and little by little the suddenly dreamlike chord sequence resolves itself into silence. Tohma turns to look at him, still smiling, and Eiri still isn’t used to this, completely, but for the moment it isn’t too awkward, so he smiles faintly back and wordlessly offers his steaming coffee cup.
Tohma takes it from him, wrapping his fingers around it and taking an appreciative sniff of the rich, bitter aroma. It reminds Eiri of the way certain things have changed. They take their coffee the same way now - black and pungent, undiluted with cream or sugar. Tohma has to look up at him. The piano bench is not quite wide enough anymore. There are years between their past and where they are now, and they haven’t completely worked through all of the ambiguities that have formed between them over that time. Sometimes, Eiri still stops to wonder what, exactly, they are doing - there is a child involved, and Eiri’s sister, and the occasional tenacious reporter who is determined to intrude on their complicated family existence. Things are far from being ideal or even settled, but when Tohma sips gratefully at the coffee and passes the cup back, Eiri turns it and drinks from the same side of the rim. For this one lazy, sunny morning, he knows inherently that this is the place he most wants to be.
Author: chaineddove
Fandom: Gravitation
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Crack
Pairing: Implied Ryuichi/Tatsuha, implied Tohma/Eiri if you’re looking for it.
Wordcount: 554
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, but I hope this fic will bring a smile to someone’s face ♥
Author’s Notes: Tatsuha shares the details of his personal life, although Eiri definitely Doesn’t Want to Know. My Yule gift to umarekawareru. The prompt was: “It’ll be okay as long as Tatsuha’s only a part-time monk!” If you want to read it as being in Stars-verse, a few years later, believe me, I won’t stop you ^.~
***
He is stuck in an apartment with his brother and Tohma, which is not the most ideal situation he could have imagined. But there is an unexpected winter storm blowing outside and Tatsuha is almost spectacularly drunk, and as much as he doesn’t want Tatsuha to be here, he wants Tatsuha to break his neck marginally less, and he has no doubt that that is what would happen were Tatsuha to attempt returning home in his current condition.
Unfortunately, alcohol makes Tatsuha painfully candid, and the conversation has long since descended into the realms of Things Eiri Never Wanted to Know. In self-defense, he began drinking about an hour ago, but even the buzz isn’t quite enough and he is all too sure of remembering this come morning.
“The old man is probably rolling over in his grave,” Eiri announces. This stings less than it has over the last year but more than he expected it to, back when he was younger and wishing his father would die and leave them all in peace.
“He’s used to it by now,” Tatsuha replies, slurring his words. “I mean, considering. It’s basically all in the family anyway, isn’t it, considering you and Mika and your shared-”
“We’re not talking about my life, thanks,” Eiri cuts off. “Some monk you are. I thought you were going to sell the place, anyway.”
“It’s only when we don’t have services! And anyway, my dear shrine maidens would be really disappointed if I left them now. And they like Ryuichi-san! Our love is so pure that it transcends the-”
“Yeah right,” Eiri says, taking another swig. The last thing he needs is to attempt to wrap his mind around the idea of his brother and Tohma’s former lover doing whatever it is they do on the porch by the koi pond. Considering he and his brother are pretty alike in some ways, the whatever it is is probably interesting, in a distressingly perverted kind of way, but it’s all a little close to home.
“I think it’s sweet,” Tohma pipes in, coming out of the kitchen and wiping his hands on his brightly patterned floury apron.
“No one asked you,” Eiri says with no real heat. “I think it’s wrong, for a lot of reasons including the painfully obvious ones, like the fact that it’s probably sacrilegious to screw in a temple between services. Not that I haven’t done my share, but at least I’m not pretending to be a religious authority figure.”
“You nearly became one,” Tohma points out as Tatsuha explodes, “I’m not pretending!”
“Well,” Tohma says, “in any case, considering you’re a part-time monk at best-”
“Hey!” Tatsuha protests, but Tohma blithely continues on, ignoring him.
“If you’re not bothering anyone, then as long as you keep him happy, you’ve my blessing.”
“Which no one asked you for, either,” Eiri grumbles.
“I frequently dispense kindness without being asked, which is why you love me,” Tohma announces with an angelic look on his face. He goes so far as to patronizingly pat Eiri on the head.
Tatsuha bursts into hysterical laughter and falls off the couch. Eiri grunts, “Yeah, right.”
“So, no cake then?” Tohma asks innocently.
“Never said that much,” Eiri tells him. “I’ll eat the damn cake.”
“I thought you might,” Tohma says smugly. “It’s strawberry.”
***
Title: Sunday Morning
Author: chaineddove
Fandom: Gravitation
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff
Pairing: Tohma/Eiri
Wordcount: 900
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, but I hope this fic will bring a smile to someone’s face ♥
Author’s Notes: Tohma and Eiri share a quiet morning and an old memory. My Yule gift to she_universe. The prompt was: “piano.” Set after the (as-yet-unwritten, oops) conclusion of Shooting Stars, so be aware! This fic grew completely out of the Maroon 5 song of the same title, which just happened to be on the radio at the time.
***
Tohma doesn’t compose much these days. The greater part of his work is managerial; he’s bought out three smaller record companies and is working on acquiring a fourth. He is in the office most of the day, charming sponsors and terrifying producers who are not working as hard as he believes they should be. His face is still smooth and ageless and if he hadn’t spent the majority of his youth in the spotlight, no one would be likely to guess his age (as it is, the industry is still reeling from the lavish party held for his fortieth birthday - at least partially because he indulged the gathering and gave a brief performance, still looking like the twenty-something rock star he hasn’t been in years). He is still hard on those who work for him and endlessly generous with those he loves. His son is sweetly manipulative and outrageously spoiled, and he likely spends more time at the baby grand piano in the parlor than Tohma does, these days.
Still, he has occasional breaks in his schedule. Every once in awhile, on a lazy weekend morning, with a beam of sunlight slanting across the floor, he will sit and play for an hour or two, modulating from one key to another, changing moods with a roll of his fingers across the ivory keys, filling the penthouse with the comforting sounds of his music and all the memories it invokes.
Some of his memories will always be fuzzy, but Eiri remembers this, more as a feeling than an image: the warmth of the sunlight, the flow of the music, the comfort of home. Things have changed over the years, but this has come back to him, at least, and he treads softly in the kitchen, listening. He is not here every morning or even every other morning, but it has become more frequent over the last year or so, and when Tohma is at the piano Eiri finds himself lingering before he returns to his empty apartment, which is looking less lived-in every day. He prefers the scent of coffee and the cadences of the piano to the impersonal silence which reigns in his own space.
No one knows the way he does that the music in Tohma’s mind is still alive and well. Although no one has forgotten the legendary Tohma of Nittle Grasper, common belief is that in the way of young geniuses, he has burned out. Everyone assumes that he has moved into the administrative milieu because he is no longer able to produce best selling records, but Eiri knows the truth on days like this, when the notes float from the doorway, gentle and teasing, playful and somber, soft and brilliant. As an artist of a sort himself, Eiri understands that it isn’t that the music is gone; it is more that Tohma no longer feels the need to prove himself by sharing it, and keeps it guardedly close to his heart.
The kitchen floor is cool against Eiri’s bare feet and his coffee cup is hot in his hands. In the quiet of a winter morning, the notes of the piano dance and swirl around the quietly efficient hum of the heat pumping from the vents. The music is cheerful and energized, and Eiri can guess the musician’s mood from that alone. They have spent the last few years slowly re-learning how to be in tune with each other, and although it is not always easy, it is generally satisfying, or at the very least anything but boring. Today’s Tohma is happy and well rested, perhaps even a little playful. As he enters the parlor, Eiri can see he has guessed correctly; there is a small smile on Tohma’s lips as his fingers flutter over the keys. There is sunlight on the carpet and the scene is so nostalgic that he only hesitates a few moments before he walks over and settles on the edge of the piano bench, not quite touching. There is a shift in the melody, and little by little the suddenly dreamlike chord sequence resolves itself into silence. Tohma turns to look at him, still smiling, and Eiri still isn’t used to this, completely, but for the moment it isn’t too awkward, so he smiles faintly back and wordlessly offers his steaming coffee cup.
Tohma takes it from him, wrapping his fingers around it and taking an appreciative sniff of the rich, bitter aroma. It reminds Eiri of the way certain things have changed. They take their coffee the same way now - black and pungent, undiluted with cream or sugar. Tohma has to look up at him. The piano bench is not quite wide enough anymore. There are years between their past and where they are now, and they haven’t completely worked through all of the ambiguities that have formed between them over that time. Sometimes, Eiri still stops to wonder what, exactly, they are doing - there is a child involved, and Eiri’s sister, and the occasional tenacious reporter who is determined to intrude on their complicated family existence. Things are far from being ideal or even settled, but when Tohma sips gratefully at the coffee and passes the cup back, Eiri turns it and drinks from the same side of the rim. For this one lazy, sunny morning, he knows inherently that this is the place he most wants to be.