Fic: Sleight (1)
Title: Sleight
Characters/Pairings: KuroFai (meaning FxK and KxF, but ‘KuroFai’ is just so much easier to type and say)
Rating: M - sex, mild language
Summary: Modern AU. Fai’s a conjurer, a performer (magician), and Kurogane falls for his tricks.
Chapter: 1/3
A/N: This is weird. Very, very weird, and isn’t intended to make perfect linear sense. This was me just playing around, I think; it was a random idea, and it wrote itself out randomly.
*****
Ninety percent of this story is a lie (including that statistic); I won’t ever repeat that troublesome fact again. I always tell the truth, you see - but as you know I’m a professional, and we’ve all got sparkling images to maintain. An audience always pays for a performance, and the best entertainers always spin some little lies; it’s in the unacknowledged small print, and since all the world’s a stage, I’d say for everything the rule applies. Don’t cast me looks for I’m another performer. I’m politely paying you back what you are due - these flicks and tricks are just another output, and they’re all for the benefit of you. Call it ‘cynicism’ if you will, but if you were me (or just listen well) you might know being lied to is what we call ‘magic,’ dear. Sit back, enjoy the show.
#
“Can I show you a trick?”
“No.”
“Trick or treat?”
“It’s not October.”
“You know, you’re really no fun.”
#
It starts in a theatre, or maybe it’s a ballroom, or maybe it’s a club, but there’s music and an audience and a young man with a quicksilver grin. He’s a looker alright and glows all in white, and there’s a heat in his (forget-me-not) eyes that matches the burn of drink in your belly as he slides into the seat next to yours like it’s been his the whole damn night (all your life). His knee knocks yours and his breath’s warm when he leans in; the whisper echoes:
‘Pick a card.’
#
Magician (n.)
late 14c., from Fr. magicien, from L. magica (see magic).
#
Kurogane is not an easy person to entertain, and his family knows it well. Tomoyo laments of him; Kendappa’s given up on him, and Souma tries every now and then to resolve the problem (him) out of sheer exasperation. His parents are, by rote of being his parents, quite used to him - Kurogane has the sneaking suspicion his mother has written the whole thing off as a ‘phase’ (like the incident with the clowns. Kurogane still strongly dislikes clowns), and his father’s usually too busy teasing him about it to go too far into the issue, though the concern in his gaze from time to time is endearing embarrassing as hell.
For the nonce, they call it being ‘socially uncomfortable,’ they being a semi-polite, amalgamous entity with a dictionary in one hand and its posterior firmly placed on the high-horse of social awareness and respectability.
Kurogane calls it ‘leave me alone’ (especially at three am when anyone with half a brain is happily asleep or smashed out of their minds and partying and does not want to be called up and asked how their weekend is going and, by the way, would they like to come over for dinner on Thursday? Tomoyo had asked.
“You know,” Kendappa had blithely remarked after ten minutes of being yelled at on the phone, (Kurogane blamed being rudely awoken for the lack of common sense it would have required to slam the phone down on her the moment he’d finished his tirade,) “if you just added an ‘-itis’ onto the end of that title, Kurogane, you could pass it off as a disease. It’s probably infectious.”).
Kurogane’s a downright awful person to entertain - and he knows it. Doesn’t really go out of his way to amend it, either, which is precisely why, on the night of his twenty-third birthday he’s sitting in a club and avoiding his own ‘surprise’ party, having figured out one was being thrown for him the week beforehand. (He’s a bright boy, and he’s remembered to switch off his phone.) He’ll be damned if anyone’s going to try and make him have fun.
There’s more dancing than drinking going on in the place for a change and the bar’s not terribly crowded - at least this one, anyway, tucked away at the back of the club, a walk from the dance floor. Kurogane downs beer - it’s not terribly good, but not just plain terrible either, and it makes the raucous group clustered a metre or so away down the bar length vaguely tolerable as they egg on whatever it is the bartender’s doing for show. There’s cheering, and laughter, and suddenly one of the group disappears to the toilet, and Kurogane’s got a view.
It’s a familiar thimblerig trick - three metal shot glasses are upside down on the table, and the bartender’s shifting them about pretty quickly, a young woman leaning over to try and guess which one a small ping-pong ball’s hidden under when he’s done. She fails - three times she fails so she buys the bartender three drinks and tries to wrangle out his number too, but her friend’s already slipped into her place and is challenging the man to slip the ball by her as well. He does so - once, twice, thrice -, and she buys three drinks in the space it takes Kurogane to finish the last of his beer, mildly interested despite himself. The bartender is good, very good, but Kurogane knows he’s better.
He says as much when he strides into the group, and asks for another drink. A few of the boys around him scoff but the others look interested, gazes flicking back between Kurogane and the bartender, who’s taken the man’s empty bottle and is already looking thoughtfully across at the challenger.
“…Alright,” he says eventually, and sets the bottle down, leaning back in with a slowly growing smile. His attitude is as devil-may-care as the wisps of golden blond that fall into his eyes, and his accent is curled enough for interest, “but it’s the same challenge as the others - if you beat me, I’ll buy your next drink.”
“And if I lose?” Kurogane prompts.
“Nothing at all,” the bartender replies, “since I like your daring.” He raises his hands overdramatically and shrugs when some of their audience look like they’re going to speak, cutting them all off with his grin. “I’m feeling charitable.” That, and he’d already won enough drinks already to see him into the next week and beyond.
“Fine,” Kurogane agrees, and takes the seat before the shot-glasses, watching as his opponent slides the ball under one before quickly shuffling the whole lot around. He has long fingers, pale as the rest of him, and Kurogane’s blurred reflection looks back at him from the glasses’ surfaces between their spread.
He’s smiling when his hands stopped moving, a mildly irritating close-eyed expression. “There you go.”
Unerringly, Kurogane points to the shot glass on his right. “That one.”
“Don’t waste your guess.” One of the girls behind him starts. “The ball’s in the mid-”
“No,” Kurogane cuts her off. She snaps her mouth closed, disgruntled.
The bartender only continues to look amused, glancing at Kurogane. “You’re sure?” Kurogane nods, so he lifts the shot-glass - as Kurogane had expected, the ping-pong ball is beneath. The group behind break into chatter. “It looks like I owe you a drink. Same beer again?”
“Pass me one of the singles you’ve got,” Kurogane motions to the little line of drinks the bartender’s accumulated over the night, mostly ignored. “Or a double, if you’ve got one.”
“My hard-won alcohol,” the blond laments as he hands over one of the glasses, full of what looks like orange. Kurogane smells it before he raises it to drink - double vodka and fresh orange, none of the fizzy crap. The spirit hits the back of his throat the way the beer failed to do. “I feel I should demand a rematch; nobody else has beaten me all week, not even with a fluke.”
“They weren’t me.” The bartender’s grinning again - he’s young (probably), tall and slim and a nice figure in the club’s black uniform. “Sure, I’ll go again.” It isn’t like Kurogane has anything else to do.
“Saa, there’s that daring again.” Another smile, and the man’s leaning closer. “But ah, you’re not a pity-case anymore; if you lose this time you have to buy me a drink. No - two, since you’ve ran off with one of mine already.”
“And when I beat you this time,” Kurogane retorts, “you’re giving me another two of your doubles.” The vodka mixer isn’t going to last him much longer. “You’ve plenty of alcohol to lose.”
His opponent laughs, a low, throaty sound, and pops the ball under a shot glass again. Kurogane continues to sip his drink as the glasses are moved before him, watching closely. There’s a few more shuffles and switches than the time before - maybe Kurogane had put a dent in the trickster’s pride.
The blond stops again, steps back, and fixes Kurogane with a raised eyebrow - challenge number two. “Well?”
Kurogane gives him the amount of time to feel safe as it takes him to finish downing the last of his mixer, setting the empty glass back on the countertop. The group around them are still watching avidly. “It’s in the one on my left.”
“This one?” One finger is lightly laid on the shot glass top - when Kurogane nods the bartender lifts it, and the group jostling to see break into clapping and whistling when the ping-pong ball is revealed once again, noisy even over the club music.
Kurogane can’t help the surge of smugness that goes through him when another two drinks are put down for his win, the bartender actually looking vaguely put-out to be caught out a second time. Kurogane takes one and their fingers brush, tips still cold from clutching the chilled glasses. He looks up - the bartender has eyes that are so very blue.
“Third time’s the charm,” the blond coaxes, and he’s leaning all the way in by that point, elbows comfortably on the counter. If anybody were behind him, they’d get a spectacular view of his ass. “One last go?”
“Again?” Kurogane asks, and stares the man down, uncaring for the fact the other is in his space. The hangers-on are motioning encouragement, but there’s persistence, and there’s taking advantage of a fool. He motions to his new mixers. “If you want me drunk enough to even fumble, you’re going to have to give me time to go through about ten more of these.”
“That wouldn’t be fair at all...” the other chides. “I’d get scolded for taking advantage of my poor unsuspecting patrons!” Kurogane wonders, for a second, about how similar their trains of thought are, before the blond leans in once again and Kurogane can feel warm breath against his ear, a stage-whisper. “Let’s up the stakes again.”
“And what good will that do?” Kurogane queries, not seeing how it would help the other deceive him.
“Incentive!” The bartender chirps and pulls swiftly back, before turning around and going to the back of the bar. He bends down to one of the low fridges there he did have a spectacular ass and withdraws two large bottles, returning to thunk them down on the countertop, still damp with condensation. “If you beat me this time I’ll buy you those ten drinks you so need - these two bottles, to take home yourself.”
Kurogane - naturally - is suspicious. The bottles would come directly out of the blond’s paycheque - the mixers he’d been winning off of the bartender insofar are already bought and paid for by other people. “And if I lose?”
“If you lose,” his opponent replies cheerfully, “we exchange numbers and you take me out on a date.” There’s laughter at the comment, and more than one wolf-whistle. The trickster’s also a shameless flirt.
“And if I’m already dating someone?”
“Then you buy me these bottles so I can go console myself, and we exchange numbers in case you ever break up with your dearly beloved.” More laughter, and the bartender picks up the ping-pong ball, tossing it into the air and catching it again. “Not that I think you’ve got one, seeing how you’re all on your lonesome tonight, and you haven’t checked your phone once.” Up, down, the ball glows in the dim. “Doesn’t your dubious sweetheart ever give you a call?”
Kurogane frowns. “I’m not losing.”
The blond heaves a sigh for the crowd (where had everyone come from? There’s at least twice as many people watching as there were before), and puts down the ball. “I’ve been dumped.”
“We’re not dating!”
“Semantics,” a finger waggle.
Kurogane growls. “Just hide the goddamn ball.”
There’s laughter from the blond but he does as he’s bid, nudging the ping-pong ball under the middle shot glass and covering it up. He shifts and mixes the glasses around - fast, faster than either of the two tries before, and there’s an idiot in the background making a dumb ‘ooo’ noise that Kurogane wants to hit them for. It’s off-putting, like the music’s beat, and the few lights glint off of the metal glasses distractingly in red, blue, green. There’re more twists and the bartender seems absorbed in his task, eyes set down on the movement of his hands and Kurogane realises hastily that he needs to stop half-looking at the other male’s face because he’s only half-aware of where the ball is and -
“There,” the bartender stills and the crowd hushes - shouldn’t the lot of them be off dancing? Somewhere else? Kurogane dislikes being made the entertainment, but the bartender’s grin’s a challenge, and the three upended shot glasses gleam in mockery.
He’s not as sure of himself around damn the blond, but he’s still pretty sure (and that’s good for someone with his track record for noticing the little things like he does). So he points to the left shot glass again, and bares his teeth when the idiot opposite him the ‘the’ is now appropriate asks him if he’s sure for this last time.
“I’m sure.”
“Alright then, Mr. Grumpy,” the blond softly rebukes him, and picks up the glass. No ball sits beneath, and the crowd behind lets out a collective breath, before applauding the bartender. Through their din, the ‘winner’ leans in, this last time, slanting a glance from under fine lashes. “So, do I get your number, or will your sweetheart object?”
His ego’s stinging but Kurogane fishes out his mobile phone, handing it over to the other man, whose face flashes pleased surprise for a second before he takes it. (A bet’s a bet.)
“…It’s not switched on.”
Kurogane had forgotten. He takes it back and thumbs the power, hastily putting the thing on silent as soon as he unlocks it. The ‘missed calls’ sign still flashes up at him obnoxiously though; his date-to-be, taking the phone back, can quite easily see the little symbol flashing telling him he has new messages as well.
“Someone’s popular.”
“Just -”
“Put in my number, yes, yes.” The man fiddles with the phone for a few seconds before holding it at arm’s length, smiling into the flash that followed before bringing it back to tap the keys a few more times. When he tosses it back over Kurogane can see the other’s picture splashed across the screen, name and number beneath. The name is written first in the roman characters, and then katakana.
“…Fai?” Kurogane sounds, and is rewarded with a smile and a nod. It’s distracted though; since the show is done people have decided that they want to drink again, and the bartender - Fai - is called upon to do his job.
“Call me?” He requests, ignoring the crowd for one minute more. “I can’t answer now, but it’ll save the number for later.”
Fai disappears to attend to the patrons and Kurogane hovers over the number on his screen, debating. It’d be easy to delete - just as easy to call it, though, leave his number with Fai, and go on the date he’d lost to the other. It serves him right for not giving the game his full attention, though it’s still pretty infuriating to be outwitted.
Kurogane sighs, and calls the number, quickly switching his phone off again after letting it ring three times on the other end. He doesn’t care to read the texts left for him by his dear family haranguing him for going off the radar for the night; finishing his neglected mixers seems a better idea, and slipping away from the bar and out of the club before Fai can return to make him regret his honour in going through with the forfeit.
#
Magic (n.)
Late 14c., "art of influencing events and producing marvels," from O.Fr. magique, from L. magice "sorcery, magic," from Gk. magike (presumably with tekhne "art"), fem. of magikos "magical," from magos "one of the members of the learned and priestly class," from O.Pers. magush, possibly from PIE *magh- "to be able, to have power".
#
The phone rings the next day. The phone doesn’t ring the next day. Neither time you pick up. (Nuh-uh.) The phone rings at four am on Friday morning and you’ve got to get up for work later and you think it’s your alarm clock or heaven’s trumpet or just some damn bird and it could be one, two or all three of the above, but your brain’s not with you (as ever) and you answer it to hear noise, music, chirping in your ear.
It’s mercury and moonlight and an invite to the ball, a theatre, a street-party, a parade (let’s go dancing - dance with me)!
#
(If you dance with anyone else I shan’t like you anymore.)
#
“Idiot, that is not what happened.”
“It really, really is!”
“It really, really isn’t.”
“This thing you have trouble with sometimes, Kuro-puu - the real world calls it ‘denial.’”
“You made that up from beginning to end!”
“Denial.”
#
Dear Sir or Madam,
You are cordially invited to attend my show.
#
“If I’m going to have a ‘lovely assistant,’” Fai tells him later, “they may as well be cute.”
Kurogane’s still growling of course; being dragged up on a stage and forced to help with tricks has never been his idea of fun - but the children in the audience in the loved it, and even the adults had started laughing when Kurogane had exploded when Fai - silver Fai - had started bastardising his name. He never should have given the other that call.
“So you’re a stage magician.”
“Mm,” Fai hums under his breath, tidying up his room backstage - it’s a colourful mess of glitter and flowers and brightly-coloured cloth. “That’s one name for it, Kuro-kun.”
“Kurogane.”
“Stay here,” Fai tells him, and sweeps carelessly out of the room. He’s not gone long - he returns supporting a white rabbit in his arms, the little creature’s paws hanging comfortably over his right arm, his left hand supporting her back legs and tail. He’d lifted her out of a hat before, at the request of a little girl. “This is Mokona-chan,” Fai hands the little creature over into Kurogane’s arms, adjusting the taller man’s grip. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”
‘Mokona-chan’ is already leaving fur all over Kurogane’s black shirt. Kurogane looks at Fai, deadpan, and Fai only laughs. Idiot.
“I usually do street-work,” he confesses, “but they asked for me here so I came.”
“So the night at the club?”
“That?” Fai’s smiling as he reaches out to take Mokona back, cuddling the rabbit close as Kurogane starts trying to pick fur off of his clothes. “That was only temporary - a favour for a friend for a week. Or maybe she was doing the favour for me…” He frowns, thinking for a few moments. “You know, you can never really tell with Yuuko-san; I think I’ll probably owe her a drink.”
The fur sticks to Kurogane’s hands instead. Damn rabbit. “For someone who only worked in a bar for a week, your conversation revolves around alcohol quite a lot.”
“Oh, alcohol’s wonderful wherever you work,” Fai parries, and the light catches his throat where his collar’s open, dipping down to pool in his collarbone, golden-cream against the snow white of his shirt. “I believe that some of the most profound moments of lucidity are produced when you’re completely and totally drunk. Right about that point where you feel like you’ve almost drunk yourself sober again. It’s a glorious feeling.”
“That would be the point of sobriety where you realise you’re going to have a god-awful hangover in the morning?” Kurogane watches as Mokona gets set down on a nearby dresser - the rabbit immediately hops over to a nearby paper leaflet and starts munching the corner.
Fai beams, and takes a seat on a nearby chair, body cushioned from the padding by a string of coloured handkerchiefs that trail onto the floor. “There exactly~! But, as everybody knows, it’s getting to that point that’s really all the fun.” He leans back, legs crossed, and his smile slants to something a lot more interesting for the duration of their ‘date.’ “I’m in it for the ride.”
#
Once upon a time there was a great and powerful wizard who lived at the top of a tall white tower. He did all the usual wizarding sort of things you’d expect wizards to do, but he got bored of it all one day and decided to go explore somewhere else.
(He exploded the tower by accident, and had to relocate during the repairs.)
On those great and wonderful explorations he met a knight - a black knight, if you will - with a great sword and a greater temper. They got along wonderfully
(The knight tried to kill the wizard within their first twenty minutes of knowing one another.)
and went off to together to rescue damsels in distress, slay dragons and occasionally save the odd poor cat that got stuck up a tree. It was a good, simple life, and the two would sit together by the fire in the evenings and toast each others’ good health
(They got drunk on more occasions than either of them could remember, and ended up crashing in a tangled mess together on the floor. The knight snored.)
and the hopes of the continuance of all their wholesome
(Decadent.)
adventures.
The wizard never returned to his tower.
(He did, however, end up inhabiting the knight’s bed.)
#
They’re interrupted by a phone call - Tomoyo, with a sigh in her voice she still hasn’t forgotten him skipping out on his party, and he’s pleased to note that none of them can prove yet that he missed it on purpose and a query: what kind of person takes the keys to their car out with them when they’re not planning to drive? Souma needs to borrow it - desperately -, so he’d better get ho- no, he could walk to hers.
“You broke into my house to look for my car keys?” Kurogane asks, and Fai glances up from where he’s swirling the ice-cubes in his drink with one finger, expression clearly showing that he’s amused.
“I didn’t break anything, Kurogane; I have spare keys.” Tomoyo is precociously unrepentant, and merely repeats her command for him to get to Souma’s tout de suite.
So much for a quiet drink.
Fai sighs melodramatically when Kurogane ends the call with a face like thunder, raises his finger and licks it delicately free of his drink of choice it’s alcoholic, it sparkles and it’s blue, and Kurogane doesn’t care to know any more, only watching as Kurogane downs his own - sake, good stuff. “You’re off?” He sounds regretful.
“Yeah,” Kurogane grunts, and is already standing to pull on his jacket. There’s still some rabbit fluff on the lining. And because he thinks it’s sort-of due: “Sorry.”
“You have my number,” Fai says, and stands for an instant when Kurogane is still half-bent over, so their mouths meet quickly before drawing apart. He smells of blueberries and vodka, and the kiss leaves sugar on Kurogane’s lips. “I’m here until Tuesday.”
#
I’m a Gemini, blood type AB, and was born in California. Fai hands out the information with a close-eyed smile, and swings one leg on his stool. I like a lot of things, but I seem to be drawn to those in particular that are tall, dark and strong. And you, Kuro-tan?
Kurogane ponders him for a second. You made all that up.
Fai opens his eyes. Even the last bit?
Kurogane looks aside; Fai smiles, since his ears are going red, and it’s rather sweet. Kurogane mutters, most of it under his breath. …Maybe not the last bit.
#
((I told you this yesterday: The Very Best Things Are Hidden In Plain Sight.))
(Did we capitalise that right?)
((Probably not.))
#
Tuesday comes and Tuesday goes and you don’t lift a finger until Wednesday, when you decide to delete the number from your phone and forget about the whole thing (we call it regret). He was such a pretty boy and you really liked his smile - or maybe it’s Sunday still and you’re dreaming about it, wiping out the name and the picture because you’ve never quite dealt with his type insanity before (but insanity in general, yes), and god, you can still taste his kiss even though you’ve never been all that particularly fond of blueberries, strawberries, honey and cream. It’s a kick in the gut to be faced with the facts, so if we’re going to have history, it’s going to be multi-choice. Problem is (sugar) that there’s only two options this time around - it’s a horrible trick.
#
Theatre
(US theater)
• noun 1 a building in which plays and other dramatic performances are given. 2 the writing and production of plays. 3 a play or other activity considered in terms of its dramatic quality. 4 (also lecture theatre) a room for lectures with seats in tiers. 5 Brit. an operating theatre. 6 the area in which something happens: a theatre of war.
#
Kurogane phones Fai on Sunday night, but only gets through to the idiot’s voicemail. He leaves a message then endlessly awkward, and Fai texts him on Monday afternoon, and leaves him an address, and a time - seven o’ clock. Kurogane gets the text at work and looks up the address on the internet - his workmates tease him when he suddenly flushes bright red, though none of them know what exactly has caused such a tremendous blush.
(“Maybe it’s his girlfriend,” one of them teases, and the rest take up the tune. “Did she send you raunchy pictures?”
Kurogane scowls, and hides his phone.)
The address is for a hotel.
Kurogane turns up a little after seven that night to find Fai waiting for him outside, the blond cheerfully - blandly - smiling up at the evening sky. He’s dressed semi-formally in a dress-shirt, jacket and pants, but he’s left the collar at his throat open and used a ribbon to pull back his gold hair.
“Oi,” Kurogane pulls the idiot out of his daydreams with his customary greeting.
Fai smile lights up all the more when his gaze drops down to meet the other male’s, and he trips forward ugh, it’s more like a prance and limpets onto Kurogane’s right arm. “Kuro-pon!” He’s warm, and smells like apples. (What is it with this idiot and fruit?) Kurogane tries to immediately shake him off.
“Kurogane,” he corrects, but Fai only grins - all teeth -, and he knows inwardly it’s a lost cause. As is his arm, by the looks of it; for someone who looks like a light breeze can blow him over, Fai has a grip like steel. Kurogane looks at the hotel - it’s a decent one, but nothing fancy. “Why did we meet here?”
“It’s where I stay when I’m in town,” Fai replies, and starts tugging him down the street. “They leave me chocolate mints on my pillow.”
“Tell me you didn’t choose to stay there solely for that.”
“All right then,” a sparkle, and Kurogane is willingly tugged, “I didn’t choose to stay there solely for that.” Fai did, didn’t he. “We’re going for dinner, and after that is up to you. Kuro-sama, do you like Italian?”
‘After that’ is an exceedingly distracting thing to bring up with another question straight after it, especially coupled with Fai pressing not-so-subtly against Kurogane’s side.
“It’s fine,” Kurogane assents and Fai all but whoops, and sings a ‘pasta song’ all the way to the restaurant while passers-by stop and stare. Kurogane’s red and trying to kill the idiot by that point, but Fai only laughs and ducks under the punch swung at his head, brightly bounding into the building ahead of him to tell the maître d' about their reservation.
The woman initially doesn’t look too pleased about having them in - Kurogane had come through the doors swearing, and the other patrons look put-out -, but Fai scolds his date thoroughly and Kurogane quiets down reluctantly and sweet-talks the lady, and they’re shown to their seat.
Kurogane looks incredulous as the menus are handed towards them - the maître d' had gone from looking like she wanted to throw them out to be quite obviously sweet on Fai, so Fai steeples his fingers together and rests his chin on them, smiling across the table as soon as she’s gone.
“Kuro-chii’s not used to things going his way?”
Kurogane looks down at his menu, and tries to decide what to eat. “…How did you do that?”
“Well…partly,” Fai begins with a tease as Kurogane scans the ‘pizza’ section, “it’s because I don’t have a grumpy face.”
“I do not ha-!”
“But mostly,” the magician cuts in, and there’s a red rose in his fingertips that he’s suddenly shoving in Kurogane’s face. One petal tickles the man’s nose, and looking past the flower Kurogane can see Fai’s half-lowered eyes, and that ever-slanting grin. Where the hell had he pulled the rose from? “It’s because I’m a charmer.”
“You’re an idiot.” Kurogane says flatly, and swats away the hand that tries to tuck the flower behind his ear.
“But I’m a charming idiot,” Fai skips on, and puts the flower beside Kurogane’s glass instead.
#
It’s magic, you knoooow~, never believe it’s not so -
Kurogane glares, and elbows the singing man beside him in the ribs. Do you never shut up?
You don’t like my singing? Fai pouts, and stretches his hands up to the starry sky. Spoilsport.
#
Kurogane takes the rose with him when they leave.
#
Dear Diary,
Today ‘kaa-san and ‘tou-san let me stay up really late, and we went for a proper dinner in the city before we came back to go to bed. IT WAS REALLY COOL. It was really, really dark out and all the lights were on, and ‘kaa-san let me have the grown-up menu.
We had to wait a bit before we could get the lift back to our hotel room, ‘tho. Well, we got the lift, but we got off at the wrong floor by accident because ‘tou-san INSISTED it was the right one (it wasn’t and ‘kaa-san said so, but ‘tou-san made us and got grumpy when we were right - he drank too much and got silly, I think, and I told ‘kaa-san, but she shushed me after that, which ISN’T FAIR). So there.
ANYWAY. We had to wait for the lift again while ‘tou-san was grumbling, but when it came back up again ‘kaa-san wouldn’t let us get in. I’m not sure why. There were only two men there so there was plenty of room, and they were hugging real close it looked like they were hugging, but ‘kaa-san shooed me to the side so I couldn’t see so there was plenty of room. So we missed the lift. AGAIN. And ‘tou-san grumbled more.
Parents are silly.
#
You kiss him in the lift while pinning him to the wall and he’s hot (star bright) and the mirrored walls are cool against your hand. He moans, arches against you and drags his nails up your spine, and you’re aching (all over) and can taste how much he wants you there, just there.
You both ride the lift up to his floor, and neither of you touch each other for the whole trip. He glances at you from under his lashes (we’ll play coy) and there’s a promise there, but the lift stops at all the floors and you have to be modest.
Even you know which option is the most fun.
#
Their mouths are kiss-bruised when they stumble out of the lift, still breathless, but even Kurogane can feel his lips quirked upwards, and he’s playful enough of course he’ll deny it to try and distract Fai as the blond is opening his hotel door.
Fai fumbles but emerges triumphant, and they all but fall into his room when the door opens due to Kurogane having decided to use the other as a prop to lean on while molesting in the hallway. The hallway’s empty, anyway. There’s no-one to be scarred.
Inside, Kurogane takes in the furniture with a glance, and raises an eyebrow as he closes the door and locks it behind him. “Double bed?” he asks evenly, and watches Fai’s back as the blond goes further into the room.
Fai only shrugs off his jacket, and leaves it crumpled on a chair. “I like to sprawl.” There are bags on the floor - Fai, it seems, isn’t one for unpacking - and Kurogane manoeuvres around them when Fai walks across to sit on that bed, lean back, and smile. “I’m spoiled.”
Kurogane agrees - but that doesn’t stop him from crouching over the other, his hand pressing into the mattress as Fai falls back against the top sheet, and trying to kiss away the smug knowing he can see fluttered his way, scraps in the breeze beside self-restraint. Fai rolls them over swiftly and sits atop him but Kurogane can’t complain; the slim hands he’d noted admired on that first night on the club are shoved impatiently up his shirt, splayed and warm across his stomach and Fai’s tongue is in his mouth tasting him anew.
He draws hands down the bumps in Fai’s still-shirted spine and Fai makes a noise in the back of his throat, something like a moan and something like a purr that’s coupled with Kurogane’s groan; Fai’s sitting deliberately low on Kurogane’s hips and oh god, does it feel good when he rocks forward like that.
“Admit I’m charming yet, Kuro-sama?” They part, back to being breathless again, and Fai’s breath fans out hot against Kurogane’s neck, his fingers part-clenched in the sheets beside Kurogane’s head.
Kurogane lets his head flop back further, draws air into his lungs, and digs in his (proverbial) heels. “Not on your life, idiot.”
Fai laughs, lower than usual, husky, and Kurogane finds it gratifying to feel the reason burning hot and hard against his stomach, so he reaches up with one hand to undo the ribbon in the magician’s hair, and lets the gold feather out around Fai’s prettily flushed face.
“Kuro-ti,” Fai scolds, and slides one hand down to thumb the buttons of the other’s shirt, “you’re so stubborn.” Kurogane pushes himself up onto his elbows as the other’s fingers work swiftly down his front, Fai undoing the buttons neatly and shoving the cloth unceremoniously down Kurogane’s arms, looping his own arms around Kurogane’s neck with self-assurance when his task is done. “I bet you were the grumpiest of them all when you first began courting - you were the type who was mean to the girl he liked, weren’t you?”
“Will you shut it with calling me grumpy?!” Kurogane grouches but his irritation’s getting exceedingly hard to keep track of; Fai has a hand at his nape and fingers are tugging - lightly, but enough - at his hair there for him to tilt his head back, feel teeth scrape the soft skin of his throat in another life, Fai’s a vampire and send a sudden shudder through his frame.
“Really mean,” Fai decides in a murmur, and his free hand trails down Kurogane’s bare chest, slides lower still and slips inside the other’s pants. Kurogane chokes on air when Fai strokes him, smoothing a thumb over his erection’s head. “You probably gave her some horrible names.”
“No,” he manages to get out, and his brain’s temporarily disconnected itself from his mouth and lodged itself in his underwear, “my mother would’ve grounded me.”
A beat.
Fai starts laughing.
Cheeks red, Kurogane shoves him off, the blond flopping onto the bed beside him still laughing, still laughing. Picking up a pillow and hitting him with it doesn’t seem to stop it at all - Fai offers a weak defence, but he’s still cackling between the blows to his torso and head, playfully swatting back to not get a face full of cloth.
Kurogane’s mortified, and Fai ducks under the pillow once more to cheerfully poke one red cheek. “Kuro-myu is blushing~.”
Kurogane glares, and holds the pillow at the ready. “I will smother you with this.”
“Ah,” Fai says, still chuckling and for a minute his eyes are soft and it looks like he’s going to say something incredibly weird to Kurogane, especially when they’ve only known each other a week. There’s no such thing as ‘love at first sight.’ But Fai doesn’t. “Kuro-don is adorable when he’s embarrassed.”
“I am not adorable.” Kurogane’s scowling - and confused - when Fai suddenly slips off of the bed, padding over to one of the bags lying about the floor and rifling about in it.
“You are,” Fai all but croons, so Kurogane chucks the pillow at him. Fai ducks, and it very anticlimactically hits the wall behind him instead. “When you’re embarrassed it’s like your grumpy face, only ten times cuter -” Kurogane growls, and Fai beams at him, “Kuro-wan-wan.”
Kurogane chucks the other pillow on the bed at him as well.
Fai pouts at him, having ducked again. He stands upright straight afterwards, with a small box in his hands. “Kuro-wankoro, whatever did the poor wall do to you for you to abuse it so?”
“Stop ducking and you’ll find out.”
“I really don’t want to come between you and Wall-san if you’re having relationship difficulties -”
Kurogane folds his arms. And grouches. “I’d get more response from the damn wall than you.”
“Saa?” Fai scoops up the abused pillows and meanders back to the bed, dumping them and his box down on the mattress before kneeling and taking Kurogane’s jaw between gentle hands. “Kuro-chan makes that sound like a challenge.”
Kurogane stares at him. “Even you can’t turn this into a competition with a wall.”
“Of course not,” Fai agrees, and for one brief delusional instant Kurogane thinks that the idiot’s seen sense, even as Fai’s mouth is drifting down Kurogane’s shoulder, Fai’s fingers lightly circling the nipples on his chest. “It’s obvious Kuro-low has already lost his heart to Wall-san many eons ago - it’s a battle already lost, and I can only do so much to repair the damage.”
Kurogane reaches up and grabs the wandering hands, and ignores how Fai looks at him inquiringly. “I don’t think it’s legal for me to have sex with a madman.”
Fai snorts. “I think you’re excused if you’re already mad yourself. Only a madman could want to have sex with a madman.”
“If that were true, there wouldn’t be a law against it in the first place.”
“Not so!” Fai protests, and wiggles his hands free from Kurogane’s steely grasp. “Everybody’s a little mad, Kuro-boo; we just have laws detailing the various levels of the insane.”
“…That’s it.” Kurogane gives up. “I can’t understand a word of what you’re coming out with any more.”
“Too much blood to the wrong head,” his personal tormentor sagely announces, sliding his hands down one of Kurogane’s legs and taking off the man’s shoe. The other follows quickly after it, socks, pants, shirt and boxers too, all taken between distracting kisses quick fingers and dumped in a glorious heap on the floor. Fai, kneeling still-clothed between Kurogane’s spread thighs, has a predatory smile that’s all teeth again, and an exceedingly appreciative gleam in his eyes. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Kurogane grabs the other’s collar and yanks Fai to him, the blond falling forward with a yelp. “Shut up,” Kurogane tells him firmly, and then crashes their mouths together so Fai can put better use to his tongue.
Fai doesn’t seem too upset by the arrangement; Kurogane is bare, and warm, and there’s plenty of skin to touch, and since Kurogane appears to be doing a good job of divesting him of his clothes as quickly as possible he’s free to let his hands roam, feeling the flex of the other’s muscles beneath tan skin.
Kurogane breaks the kiss as Fai loses his trousers, haphazardly flinging them to join the floor-heap. Fai takes the time to reach for his box - which Kurogane glances over at, just in time to belatedly register a) it’s condoms, and b) there also happens to be a bottle of lubricant inside, apparently thoughtfully placed there by the man busy grabbing a packet from beneath and dropping the rest of the box on a bedside cabinet. Although both actions are useful they distract Fai’s attention for far too long, so Kurogane grabs the man by the hips revenge for being hauled around going for dinner and pulls him back onto his lap, long legs and laughter that tangle into kisses, a slow-darkening hickey on Fai’s neck, and Kurogane’s hiss as one finger slides into him, then two, and he shifts back in an unconscious effort to ease the stretch. It’s a not-quite-properly-uncomfortable sensation he hasn’t felt it a while, the soft persistent rub inside of him, but it’s not bad - it’s definitely not bad -, although he really wishes that Fai’s lubricant wasn’t strawberry-scented. It’s the goddamn fruit. Again. Also, he has the sneaking suspicion that the lube has sparkles, but Fai is doing his very best to be distracting and Kurogane can’t quite summon up the courage to look. There are things even his ego just can’t take.
“Hah…” Kurogane breathes and Fai twists his fingers - sharp, just so -, and nothing in heaven or earth or anybody’s bloody philosophy will make Kurogane admit to the noise he makes, though it makes Fai chuckle as he slips his fingers out and Kurogane growl in response.
“Puppy~,” Fai croons again, low and loving, but it trails off in a gasp as Kurogane cups his length, rolling on the condom and wrapping Fai’s still-slippery hand around it before covering it with his own palm, tugging soft, slow.
“What did I say about shutting up?” Fai’s eyes flutter half-shut, shadows on his cheekbones. The idiot could probably enchant an audience with his words and smile alone, no tricks required.
“Mm,” is Fai’s intelligent response, and Kurogane sits back further when Fai’s hand drops away to hold his hip instead, guiding the blond in.
It’s still a stretch, even after preparation, a not-quite burn at the base of Kurogane’s spine, but he spreads his legs wider, bends one knee as Fai pushes in, fine trembling in the muscles of the paler man’s arms in an effort to keep a slow pace. The second thrust is better, stronger, and Kurogane shifts his leg again to change the angle and feels sparks he makes that sound again on the third and the fourth and -
Kurogane has very little idea why he’s sleeping with this man. Fai chatters and sings and makes a nuisance of himself, drinks like a sponge and kisses like a storm and he’s infuriating. Kurogane barely knows him, but with a sashay and a suggestion Fai’s shadow is moving hard above him, driving in deeply with that Mona Lisa look on his face. Kurogane’s not usually the type to leap into these sort of things, so why with this idiot -
Why, why, why with Fai?
The world blurs a little around the edges and somewhere in his haze Kurogane knows he’s gone when Fai reaches between their bodies to touch him, irregular but faster, faster, slamming against that perfect spot inside -
#
La petite mort: the little death.
Your heart stops for an instant, and this is forever.
#
Kurogane decides he quite likes ‘after that.’ Very much so, and Fai is warm and sleepy and boneless draped over him, snuggling closer in his slumber even as Kurogane himself drifts away in the soft dark, goes to dreams.
#
Says Narcissus: Emoriar, quam sit tibi copia nostri.
Sit tibi copia nostri: thus mourns Echo.
#
Dear Kurogane,
I It’s I’m sorry This isn’t working.
Kurogane doesn’t get the note.
#
Kurogane wakes late Tuesday morning with the aches of one well-bedded, flat on his back amongst rumpled sheets with one arm over his eyes. The curtains are still closed so he instinctively rolls over to fall back asleep again, hands reaching out across the mattress’ expanse for the warmth that had wrapped so willingly around him the night before, but his fingers grasp only at the cool sheets.
He sits up, confused a little, and then he frowns.
(“I’m here until Tuesday.”)
All the bags, the boxes, Fai’s clothes…everything’s gone, and Fai with them. Kurogane’s clothes are neatly folded on a nearby chair, and there’s a brief handwritten note laid on top of them that’s terse, perfunctory, and uses no names.
#
You (ride off into the sunset and) live happily ever after with your one true love.
You don’t.
#
Try number one: This is Fai’s number. Sorry, I’m busy right now; leave a message after the tone, and I’ll get back to you soon.
…
Try number two: This is Fai’s number. Sorry, I’m busy right now; leave a message after the tone, and I’ll get back to you soon.
…
Try number five: This is Fai’s number. Sorry, I’m busy right now; leave a message after the tone, and I’ll get back to you soon.
…
Try number eight: We sorry, the number you have dialled is not available at this time. The customer is not available, or has travelled outside the coverage area. Please try your call again later.
…
There aren’t any more tries after that.
#
Says Narcissus: May I die before I give you power over me.
I give you power over me: thus mourns Echo.
#
Kurogane looks he tells himself he doesn’t for Fai despite himself, asking at the club and the theatre, but getting little to no useful responses. Fai had come and gone; they’d liked him while he’d been there - he was fun and friendly, and they’d tried to keep contact, but he was just that sort of man, maybe. Distant. Kurogane thanks them for their time as politely as he can, and leaves.
Fai was - is - distant, definitely. And he’s also a magician.
It’s the oldest trick in the book: the disappearing act.
A/N: Latin is taken from Ovid’s Metamorphoses (Book III); the translation I found online. Dictionary definitions are from Ask Oxford (http://www.askoxford.com/?view=uk) and the Online Etymology Dictionary (http://www.etymonline.com/index.php). The song Fai is singing is Magic, by Pilot.