InsaneJournal

Ficlets: All I Want For Christmas
Title: All I Want For Christmas
Author: nishi_shinji
Characters (Gravitation): Yuki/Shuichi, K/Hiro, K/Yuki/Shuichi
Characters (Loveless): Soubi/Ritsuka, Youji/Natsuo
Characters (Ai no Kusabi): Raoul/Katze
Rating: R
Warnings: A bit of dub-con in the Ai no Kusabi ficlet.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine.

Summary: Yuki wants to know why there's a ficus tree on the table, Hiro is in love, K contemplates his relationship with Yuki and Shuichi, Soubi gets everything he wants for the holidays, Youji and Natsuo try to figure out what the big deal is, and Raoul gives Katze something he's been missing.

Author's Notes: A collection of ficlets written between working on more serious projects.

Other Universes: Harry Potter


-= Charmed =-

There was a ficus tree on the kitchen table.

It was covered in mobile phone charms.

Yuki took a sip of coffee and blinked, wondering if the tree was a figment of his sleep deprived imagination. It wasn’t like he’d never hallucinated before, but it usually only happened with the help of a few chemical substances, none of which he’d touched in over four years. Besides, the thing certainly looked real enough, which led him to believe there was really only one viable explanation for its existence in his kitchen: Shuichi.

Yuki stared at the tree. A miniature Kumagoro stared back at him from behind a leaf.

“Good morning, Yu—oh.”

“What is that?” Yuki asked, gesturing to the offending object with his cup of coffee.

Shuichi came to stand next to him, fiddling with the cuffs of the oversized shirt he’d worn to bed. Blushing a bit, and pulling his lower lip between his teeth to chew on it, he offered a quiet, “Er.”

“Why is there a ficus tree on the kitchen table?” Yuki clarified impatiently.

“Well uhm, remember the other day when we were talking about Christmas and you said you missed New York sometimes and that big tree they put up in Times Square?” Shuichi mumbled. “Erm, it’s supposed to be a Christmas tree, but I guess I didn’t do a good job if you have to ask what it is—sorry.”

Yuki couldn’t help it; he smiled. Resting his hand on the top of his lover’s head, he murmured, “Nah, it’s a pretty good Christmas tree.”

“Really?” Shuichi asked, wide-eyed and hopeful.

“Yeah,” Yuki sighed, pulling the brat closer and resting his chin in a nest of pink hair. “Do you have to work today?”

“Nuh-uh,” Shuichi hummed. “Why? Wanna go back to bed?”

“No,” Yuki replied, trying his best to ignore his partner’s suggestive wriggling. “Actually, I think we should go get some presents to put under the tree.”

“I love shopping!” Shuichi exclaimed, pulling away and hopping backwards toward the hall. Spinning in a circle, he declared, “I’m going to get you so many presents, Yuki! Oh, but that means you have to go away when I’m picking stuff out, and you’re not allowed to peek, okay? Hey, can we get stuff for Hiro and K, too? Oh, and Ryuichi-san! We can’t forget him—hey, do you think we should have a party?”

Yuki didn’t bother to reply; Shuichi was halfway down the hall to the bathroom and still rambling. Instead, he set his cup of coffee aside on the table and reached out to touch one of the mobile phone charms: a bright blue book, which just happened to have been hung next to a rhinestone-studded microphone. Laughing quietly to himself, he whispered, “Yeah, it’s a pretty good Christmas tree.”



-= Crazy =-

Hiro was in love with K.

There, he’d thought it, and it was done, and he wouldn’t have to think it ever again. Until, of course, the next time the deranged bastard showed up in the middle of the night with a hard-on in one hand and a nine millimeter in the other. That was pretty much the point where all bets were usually off, and Hiro would obediently drop to his knees and sing silent praises to K’s cock.

Still, he’d done worse things. Just what those things were, he couldn’t quite remember, but he was sure there had to be something. Otherwise, he was basically fucked.

Hiro slumped in his chair, hid his face in his hands, and sighed.

“Hey there, cuteness.”

Hiro groaned. In addition to being impossibly gorgeous, completely sociopathic, and dementedly charming, K also possessed a horrible sense of timing.

“What’s wrong?” K asked, slipping both arms around Hiro’s shoulders and leaning in a little too close. “Meeting with Seguchi-san not go well?”

“No,” Hiro replied, not sure whether he was agreeing or disagreeing with the question. “And what happened to not doing anything while we’re at work?”

“Ah, but we’re not at work,” K purred. “We’re off the clock as of half an hour ago.”

“We’re in the break room, Winchester,” Hiro snapped.

“So?” K replied, sounding genuinely confused.

“So—“ Hiro began, but the protest ended in a strangled gasp when he felt a warm hand sneaking down the front of his pants. Shifting in the chair, not sure whether he wanted to get away or just get more, he tilted his head back against the other man’s chest and sighed.

“That’s what I thought,” K murmured, and Hiro could hear the smirk in the bastard’s voice.

“Someone could come in,” Hiro warned, but didn’t try to stop the fingers tugging on his belt buckle.

“Nah, I locked the door,” K replied with a quiet laugh.

“Because that’s not suspicious at all,” Hiro retorted, but it came out a little too breathless to really sound as sarcastic as he’d have liked. Besides, he was far too interested in the hand wrapping around his rapidly hardening erection to care about things like voyeuristic co-workers.

“I got you something for Christmas,” K purred.

“Thought you didn’t do Christmas,” Hiro muttered distractedly.

“Yeah, but some gifts are just too good to pass up,” K replied.

Hiro mumbled a protest as the other man moved away, and twisted in his chair to glare up at his unofficial lover. K grinned down at him and tugged at the front of his own trousers.

“Great, so you got me your cock for Christmas,” Hiro sighed, but he had a feeling his feigned irritation lost its potency when he failed to look away.

“Something like that,” K chuckled, tugging the waistband of his pants down.

Hiro was aware that his mouth was open, and that it was probably one of his less attractive expressions, but he couldn’t quite do anything but stare.

“Do you like it?” K purred, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the silver ring pierced through the head of his cock. “I won’t be able to fuck you for a few weeks, but that just means my fingers and tongue are at your service whenever you want them—consider it my way of apologizing for the long period of abstinence.”

“Fuck you,” Hiro replied, once he could bring himself to speak. Pushing his chair back with a scrape of metal on tile, he rose to his feet and tucked himself back into his trousers, fighting the tears burning his eyes. “Seriously, Winchester: fuck you.”

“Hiro, what—?” K began, looking genuinely stunned.

“No, don’t fucking start with me,” Hiro snapped, acutely aware that he was about to give himself away. “I’m sick of doing this with you, and I’m done.”

“Sick of doing what?” K replied, zipping up his pants and grabbing Hiro’s arm. “Hey—why are you so mad at me?”

“You don’t get it do you?” Hiro retorted, hating the blush on his cheeks almost as much as he hated the tightness in his throat that meant crying was pretty much inevitable.

“Fucking hell,” K huffed a quiet laugh and stepped closer, slowly raising a hand to Hiro’s face as if about to pet a dangerous jungle cat. “Is that what’s been bugging you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hiro muttered, looking away to glare at the far wall. K’s fingers were tracing his cheekbone, though, and he knew if he blinked the tears were going to fall. “Let go of me; I told you, I’m finished.”

“No you’re not,” K drawled. “Because if you leave, I’ll just come after you and bother you or hold you at gunpoint until you come back.”

“Idiot,” Hiro whispered, and there it was, he was crying. “Am I really that good of a lay, you’d chase after me like that?”

“That good of a lay,” K replied dryly, then leaned in and brushed a kiss over Hiro’s cheek.

“What are you doing?” Hiro asked weakly, resting his head on the other man’s chest despite wanting to pull away and flee for the relative safety of anywhere but Claude K. Winchester’s arms.

“Wondering why you’re so fucking stubborn,” K whispered, burying his fingers in Hiro’s hair. “Would you just listen to me for once? I thought you knew I’m crazy about you, kid.”

Hiro blinked at the far wall, then laughed quietly and buried his face in the other man’s neck. “You could have just told me, asshole.”

“I just did,” K laughed. “So, should I take you back to my apartment and do the roses and candlelit dinner thing, or can we just spend the night drinking beer, watching cartoons, and sucking each other off?”

“You’re so—“ Hiro began, and he’d meant to say that K was crass, and vulgar, and disgusting, but what actually came out was, “I like you a lot.”

“Yeah, I know,” K whispered, wrapping his arms around Hiro’s shoulders. “I like you too. A lot.”



-= Click =-

Someone was singing somewhere in the apartment, words muffled but melody distinct.

K eased his way toward consciousness and whispered to himself, “I’ll be home for Christmas.”

“You can count on me,” Shuichi’s voice answered from somewhere nearby.

K cracked one eye open and came face-to-face with Shuichi, who was grinning at him like a lunatic, all tousled pink hair and sleepy violet eyes. Laughing quietly, K tugged the younger man closer and muttered, “What’s up, kid?”

“Yuki’s singing,” Shuichi replied in an excited whisper.

“Is that who that is?” K murmured incredulously. “Is he sick?”

“Nope,” Shuichi giggled softly, “I guess he woke up in a good mood for once.”

“Either that or he’s gone crazy on us again,” K said with a grin. “C’mon, let’s go sneak up on him.”

“K, no!” Shuichi cried, and then clapped a hand over his mouth. When the singing went on uninterrupted, he breathed out very slowly and whispered, “If we go in there, he’ll stop, and he’ll be mad.”

“No he won’t,” K promised with a wink. “We won’t give him the chance to get angry.”

“That’s what you said when we took the car without asking that time,” Shuichi grumbled, but he was crawling out of bed and obediently following K down the hall to the living room.

“He got over it after a couple of spankings,” K replied breezily, and grinned when he heard Shuichi’s resigned sigh behind him.

The singing stopped abruptly, but Eiri didn’t turn to glare at them when they entered the room. Instead, he just took a sip of coffee and kept staring out of the large picture window overlooking the park across the street. After a few moments of silence had passed, he muttered, “It’s snowing.”

“It is?” Shuichi exclaimed, clasping his hands under his chin and rushing over to peer around Eiri at the drifting flakes. “It never snows in Tokyo.”

“Of course it does, idiot,” Eiri grunted, but the irritation in his voice was softened a bit when he curled an arm around Shuichi’s shoulders.

“Okay, sometimes it does,” Shuichi relented with a grin. “But not in a long time.”

“Shut up and watch, or you’ll miss it,” Eiri murmured, gesturing at the window with his coffee mug.

K crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall a few paces away. Even after six months of living with the two men, it felt surreal to be standing there watching Yuki Eiri drink coffee in his pajamas and Shindou Shuichi pad around the apartment in his fluffy blue slippers. Anyone else probably would have had to sneak in through a window to be able to witness a sight like that, but for some reason he’d been given the honor of a permanent front row seat.

What they had was complicated, to say the least. It shouldn’t have worked, not really, not with three personalities like theirs all trying to share the same space at once. Eiri was damaged and bitter, Shuichi was co-dependent and optimistic to the point of dangerous, and K had a sadistic streak wider than Seguchi Tohma’s fake smile. But somehow, they just kept pushing ahead, through all the press conferences and arguments with disapproving friends, until they wound up here: standing in the living room in their pajamas, watching the snow.

“Either stop staring and come over here, or go back to bed,” Eiri grumbled into his cup of coffee.

K grinned and pushed away from the wall, coming up behind both of them and sliding his arms around their waists. Shuichi pressed back against him with a quiet hum of satisfaction, and after a few martyred sighs, Eiri did the same.

“Hey d’you think we’ll get snowed in?” Shuichi asked hopefully, tilting his head back to look up at K.

K glanced at the light dusting of snow on the windowsill and grinned because he just didn’t have the heart to tell the kid no. “Maybe, you never know.”

“You’re both morons,” Eiri grunted, then twisted in K’s arms to nuzzle his chest.

They were a real handful, K decided. In a few minutes, Eiri would decide he’d had enough of the snuggling business and storm off to his office. Shuichi would pout for a couple of seconds before wandering into the kitchen for his daily dose of coffee-flavored hot chocolate. With any luck, K’s mobile phone would stay silent, and he’d spend the morning watching the game he’d taped the night before. Eventually, though, they’d all drift back into the living room, curl up together, and stay that way until they fell asleep on the floor or kissed their way into the bedroom.

Just as K was beginning to wonder if maybe they’d break their routine for a day, Eiri pulled away and grumbled something under his breath about deadlines. Shuichi took that as his cue to push his lower lip out until the other man had gone, then disappeared into the kitchen in search of caffeine and sugar. K grinned, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the windowsill.

This thing between the three of them should have been a complete disaster, but by some twisted stroke of luck, it wasn’t.

Somehow, they just fit.



-= Crystallized =-

It was snowing.

Soubi couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen snow in Tokyo, and he paused by the front door of his apartment to stare up at the bleak December sky. The hood of his jacket had done little to keep the ice out of his face, and his teeth were chattering, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. There were some sights too lovely to ignore, and a rare winter storm was one of them.

“Soubi, you idiot, what are you doing?”

“Watching the snow,” Soubi replied, shifting his gaze from the sky to the open window beside the front door.

Ritsuka glared out at him, cheeks pink with irritation and breath coming in small white puffs that vanished into the chilly night air. “Well watch it from in here, stupid, or you’ll catch a cold.”

The boy disappeared from the window, and a moment later, the door was flung open. Shaking his head and stamping his boots on the welcome mat to dislodge the snow, Soubi smiled to himself and murmured, “Yes master.”

“Did you walk home?” Ritsuka demanded the second the door closed. “Damn it, I told you to call Kio if it was snowing when you got out of class.”

“Kio’s at his parent’s house,” Soubi explained, reaching out to drag the boy close against him. “Speaking of which, aren’t you out past curfew?”

“Ugh, you’re all wet,” Ritsuka complained, struggling out of the embrace and wiping at the melting snow on his shirt. “Go dry off before you get both of us sick, and stop bugging me about being out late—I already told you, Yayoi promised to cover for me whenever I need him to, so just be grateful I decided to come over.”

Soubi laughed quietly and obediently made his way into the bathroom. Peeling off his wet clothing, he tossed all of it into a haphazard pile beside the bathtub and set to work drying his hair. The floorboards creaked, and he glanced up from behind the towel to find Ritsuka glaring at him from the doorway.

“Sorry for yelling at you,” Ritsuka snapped.

The boy was blushing intensely, and it took Soubi a few moments to realize it was because he was naked from the waist up. Wrapping the towel around his shoulders, he blew a lock of damp hair out of his face and smiled. “Don’t worry about it, I shouldn’t have disobeyed you.”

“Stop that,” Ritsuka grumbled, looking away. “You know I hate it when you talk like that.”

“Okay,” Soubi murmured, leaning back against the sink and curling his fingers over the rim. After four years of trying, he’d finally given up on ever understanding their interactions; the boy was an unsolvable riddle of warring dominance and submission, fierce defiance and innocent uncertainty. Some conversations were harder than others, because Soubi could never quite figure out what Ritsuka wanted him to say.

“You took your earring out,” Soubi realized aloud, reaching out to rub one of Ritsuka’s velveteen cat ears. The jewelry had been a gift for the boy’s fifteenth birthday, and its sudden absence made him feel a bit sick. Soubi had always known it was just a matter of time before his Sacrifice abandoned him.

“Nah, I moved it, see?” Ritsuka replied, pushing his hair back to reveal a tiny silver butterfly in his left earlobe.

“Ah,” Soubi breathed on a sigh of relief. “But I can’t admire it when it’s down here.”

“Hey!” Ritsuka squeaked when Soubi tugged at his earlobe, then blushed again when he mumbled, “You wouldn’t be able to see it soon, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Soubi asked quietly, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the earring and trying to convince himself the boy hadn’t meant that statement the way it sounded.

“Uhm,” Ritsuka began, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and refusing to meet Soubi’s gaze, “I was thinking about what to get you for Christmas, and I couldn’t come up with anything so—I mean, it’s been four years, and I haven’t been able to get rid of you yet, so I guess since you’re gonna stick around, we should—“

“We should what?” Soubi prompted, unable to help the smile that tugged the corners of his lips upward.

“Stop being an idiot, you know what I’m talking about,” Ritsuka snapped, glaring and blushing.

“Maybe I just want to hear you say it,” Soubi purred, leaning down to drop a kiss on the boy’s forehead.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” Ritsuka grumbled, wrapping his arms around Soubi’s waist. “Fine, I want you to take my ears.”

Soubi hooked a finger beneath his Sacrifice’s chin and tilted the boy’s head back. Ritsuka stared defiantly up at him, eyes shining with stubborn determination. Despite their differences, they were more alike than perhaps either of them had ever imagined, and Soubi laughed quietly when Ritsuka pinched his side.

“So are you gonna do it, or not?” Ritsuka huffed impatiently.

“You already know I will,” Soubi smiled, bowing his head to press a chaste kiss to the boy’s lips. “I love you.”

Ritsuka sighed and buried his face in the side of Soubi’s neck. They stood in silence for a few moments, bound to one another with synchronized breaths and matched heartbeats. Soubi carded his fingers through Ritsuka’s hair, and was about to suggest they have a bath when he heard it, just the faintest stirring of breath against his throat: “I love you too.”

Drawing away, he stared down at the boy, who gazed back at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. The snow was still falling, coating the bathroom window with a translucent layer of ice, but Soubi hardly noticed. There were some sights too beautiful to look away from, and this was one of them: Aoyagi Ritsuka in love.



-= Curious =-

“Hey Youji?”

“Yeah, Natsuo?”

“What’s Christmas?”

Youji kicked his feet up in the air, ignoring his partner’s squeak of protest as the water sloshed against the sides of the bathtub, and examined his toenails. For awhile now, he’d been wondering about things like pain and pleasure, and the limits of his own body’s capacity for both. The water was dripping down his ankle, and he could feel it, but since he wasn’t sure what other people would have felt, he had nothing to compare the sensation to. That was starting to bother him, just a little.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Natsuo demanded, grabbing Youji’s feet and forcing them back down into the water.

“No,” Youji smiled.

“Fucker,” Natsuo shot back, throwing a washcloth at Youji’s face and missing by a few inches. “I was asking what the hell Christmas is.”

“You don’t have to cuss so much just because Sou-san’s not around and you think you can get away with it,” Youji replied, then for good measure added, “Fucker.”

Natsuo grinned and slid down until just his eyes were above the water.

They were pretty, Natsuo’s eyes. Youji had never said it out loud, because it was like something a girl would say, but he thought it every time they looked at each other. Sometimes, he even wondered if his partner thought the same thing about him, but that was definitely not something he’d ever ask. Neither of them really understood things like embarrassment, but the sharp twist he felt in his stomach whenever he pondered the question was close enough to make him think he should keep it to himself.

“You’re really starting to piss me off,” Natsuo declared, sitting up and crossing his arms over his chest. “You know it makes me mad when you ignore me.”

“Just shut up for a second, and maybe I’ll tell you,” Youji retorted. “Christmas is when people go out and buy a lot of cheap junk, then give it to each other, and pretend they like the cheap junk other people are giving them.”

“That sound stupid,” Natsuo sighed, tilting his head back against the rim of the bathtub and staring up at the ceiling. “I wonder why Sou-san and Ritsuka-kun are so excited about it.”

Youji shrugged. “Because they’re stupid.”

“Hey,” Natsuo began, sounding a little hesitant, “You think we should give each other something, something really good that’ll make everyone jealous?”

“Like what?” Youji snorted, but couldn’t deny he was interested.

“I dunno,” Natsuo replied, but he was blushing and his kitten ears were twitching the way they always did whenever he was nervous.

Youji liked that about Natsuo, that he was allowed to see when his partner was nervous, or afraid, or sad. No one else got to see that; that was his, and his alone. Grinning, he flopped forward on his stomach, sloshing water all over the floor, and curled up against the other boy.

“If we did do Christmas, what would you want?” Natsuo asked, plucking at one of Youji’s soggy ears.

“I think—” Youji began, tugging his lower lip between his teeth. Every time his partner’s fingers stroked the side of his neck, or the water lapped at his ribcage, he wondered if what he was feeling was real. They were both living lives in halves, it seemed like, always unsure whether their touches were as complete as they could be. The other team they’d fought against had found a way to go against their genes, to let the pain in and know what it was like to be whole, but to do that, they’d given up their true name. Youji couldn’t imagine giving up Natsuo, not in name, not in body, not in spirit, not for anything.

“Youji?” Natsuo prompted, sounding a little worried.

“I’d want Natsuo,” Youji said finally, smiling against his partner’s shoulder. “Just Natsuo.”



-= Coerced =-

“What do you want, Am?”

Raoul glanced up from the terminal he’d been staring at without actually seeing, and scowled at Katze. The furniture looked as lazy and impertinent as ever, lounging in the doorway of the office with his arms over his chest and an unlit cigarette between his lips.

“I’m assuming you didn’t ask me here just to stare at me,” Katze smirked. “So who do you need information on this time? Elite who didn’t lick your boots well enough for your liking? One of your pets who’s tried to run away? Oh, that’s right, you’re above that kind of thing, keeping pets, aren’t you?”

“You know, Katze, the more business I conduct with you, the more I understand why Iason tossed you aside: you talk far too much,” Raoul commented, rising from behind his desk and sweeping around the side with a flick of his robes.

“I’ve already told you, what happened between Iason and I is none of your business,” Katze replied with what could have been a sweet smile on anyone else’s face.

“It is my business if I say it is my business,” Raoul murmured, pressing a hand against the wall beside Katze’s head.

“This again, huh?” Katze muttered, but the defiant gleam in his eyes was betrayed by the visible shiver that ran through him. “Won’t lower yourself to owning pets, but you’ll dirty yourself by fucking furniture?”

“Taunt me all you like,” Raoul replied with a slight smile, leaning in close to whisper against Katze’s ear, “but that’s really no way to treat a man who has a gift to offer you.”

“What could you possibly offer me that I’d want?” Katze spat, but didn’t move away. “Besides, only masters and pets exchange gifts, and we’re neither.”

“That’s yet to be determined,” Raoul murmured, brushing his lips over Katze’s cheek. “But to answer your question, what I have is this.”

Katze stared as Raoul retrieved the micro-injector from the inner pocket of his robes and held it up between them. “What is that, and what makes you think I want it?”

“The body of a castrated male is so unique, don’t you think?” Raoul hummed, sliding a knee between Katze’s thighs. “Though you lack testicles, your prostate and penis are both intact, thereby allowing you to experience arousal and orgasm—if not for the hormone suppressants you were given at the time of the surgery, of course.”

“And that?” Katze muttered, seemingly oblivious to the leg pressed against the front of his trousers.

“This,” Raoul purred, “will return to you almost everything you’ve lost: sensation, pleasure, release.”

“I don’t want it,” Katze claimed through clenched teeth.

“You do,” Raoul insisted in a whisper. “I see it in your eyes whenever I’m inside of you, that desire to feel something again—do you touch yourself at night, trying to make your body remember the things it’s forgotten? Do you cry?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you sadistic fuck?” Katze hissed, and then, “What do you want?”

“Clever,” Raoul smiled against his victim’s throat. “All I ask is that you give me that first night; I want to hear you scream for me.”

There was a shaky inhalation, followed by a barely audible sigh. Tilting his head to the side, Katze whispered, “Fine, it’s not like you’ve never fucked me before—just do it.”

“Good boy,” Raoul purred.

The hiss of the micro-injector was almost deafening in the nearly silent room. Katze winced and clapped a hand over the side of his neck, slumping against the wall as the drug began to take effect. Raoul hummed softly and backed away to lean against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. Moments later, the furniture shuddered and dropped to his knees.

“It’s working,” Raoul observed with a sadistic thrill as he watched the other man shiver.

“What—this is—“ Katze whimpered, throwing his head back against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Yes, intense, isn’t it?” Raoul prompted, lips curling upward in a lazy smile. “It will only get worse until you do something about it.”

“Never this good,” Katze groaned, pressing a hand to the front of his trousers and rolling his hips upward. “I don’t remember—was it ever like this—“

“No,” Raoul answered, tilting his head to the side to better observe his victim’s agony. “And I’m the only one who can give this to you, Katze, the only one who can offer this.”

“Bastard,” Katze choked out, falling to his hands and knees and crawling to Raoul’s feet. “I hate you, I hate you.”

“I know,” Raoul purred, and smiled when Katze’s tongue darted out to lick the toe of his boot.