Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Haunted, Things Never Said ❯ One ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

I think it's time we blow this scene
Get everybody and their stuff together
Okay 3, 2, 1...
Let's jam

Sorry... I'm SO into Cowboy Bebop now, it's scary. Yoko Kanno is my hero, but you shouldn't be like me and steal all her songs, you should BUY the soundtrack.

ALL FIVE DISCS. Lemme just say... Wholly crap.

And now on to the fic: This contains <ahem> some rather explicit doings between two guys. Yeah. Be proud of me, all you non-flamers, this is the first one I've published! So... warnings:

>>Yaoi (in all its 'cover-your-eyes-children!' goodness)
>>Language (a few words that would make Iori blush)
>>Violence (just kidding, folks! this is pure mush! which brings us to-)
>>Large Doses of Fluff (interspersed with angst, thank you very much!)

Alrighty, now that that's out of the way, every one who wants to stay can. Fasten your seatbelts, we're off!

"I know it hurts, I know..." Jyou gritted his teeth and tried to edge the anger, frustration out of his voice.
"OWWW! IT HURRRRTS!"
"Sssh... sweetie... I'm sorry." The young mother held the head of her screaming toddler. "Ssh, sweetie. C'mon..."

Jyou breathed deeply. Friday. Thank motherfreaking god. It was 2:30 in the Pediatrics section of Tokyo General, where the days stretched into long weeks which spread and smeared together like the ever-present puke on the floor. He gave a tired, knowing smirk to the red-haired woman; a big smile to her son.
"Do you like lollipops?" With large tears in his eyes, the child nodded. "What's your favourite flavor: cherry or lemon?" The boy stared off into space, thinking carefully. Poised and ready, the needle slid in and out before the answer came. "Cherry." The alcohol swab was out now, rubbing gently over the small vaccination mark. The little boy started whimpering again, looking down and realizing he'd missed his big chance to scream and howl.
"Thank you, doctor." She was all smiles now, picking up her child and heading to leave.
"Sure, sure." He turned to his patient, "and as promised, for you." The fussing stopped, happy smile reaching for the red candy Jyou pulled out of his pocket. After they were gone, he mumbled to himself, "good thing too, cause you weren't getting my lemon one."

"Glasses! This one just came in!" The head nurse skipped out from her station, stuffing a chart in his hands seconds after they left the lollipop in his mouth.
"Room 315, kid with a slight concussion and head trauma."
"Thanks." He dodged around a wheelchair, a girl on crutches, and a stretcher before reaching the room. The din in the hallway rose to his raw nerves and he was grateful when he opened the door to silence.

Almost. No, scratch that.
"Jyou." A kind of calmly surprised, unsettling pause stalked the room.
"Hi Matt, Takeru." The lollipop barely stayed in his uncertain mouth, trying to mask over his emotions and desire to run. No, not run, he was past that. Just be really mean and nasty to him. And cold.
"Hi Jyou." The younger one greeted pitifully from the bed. "It's not as bad as it looks, right?" Jyou smiled sympathetically, turning the pages in his hand over, browsing through them.
"Well... not as bad as you might imagine - but - still pretty nasty." He walked to the side of the bed, lifting up the gauze bandage around his head. The wound wasn't critical, but it was far from pretty. Keeping his eyes on Takeru's side of the room, he cleaned away the dried blood and replaced the dressing. Almost done. He reached into his white lab coat, taking out one of his precious syringes. "I'm gonna take a little bit of your blood, okay?" It came out more condescending than he wished, and TK, despite his condition, jumped on it right away. Perhaps he was a little frustrated as well.
"Jyou, I might be stuck in the kids wing because I'm a minor," he glared pointedly at his brother, who just glared back, "but I'm not a kid."
"Sorry, force of habit." He routinely filled the plastic flask with dark reddish-purple fluid and continued. "I'm going to check this for erythrocytes - white blood cells - see how your immune system is and if there's an infection started. A gash like that, and we want to get a jump on it right away. ...Should be back by the end of the day. Meanwhile, hang out, watch TV, get some rest, and don't think too hard, okay?" He smiled broadly at the nearly grown up Digidestined, pointedly ignoring his older brother and walking out the door with what he hoped was the poise of a nearly graduated MD.

Whew.

There was only one question running through his mind as he walked zombie-like to the nurses' station, dropping off the chart and continuing to the lab.
"Why?" He said it out loud, but no one paid attention. Why? Why wasn't he over this yet? Over him?
He'd slipped up back in high school... When Tai had joked about Yamato's orientation, and Jyou - in all seriousness - defended him... And he blushed harder than he ever though possible when Tai factored him into the possible equation. Like his head would catch fire.

'Oh, I see Jyou! You want him all to yourself!'
'...'
'Oh. Oh, Jyou, I never meant for you to take it like that...'
'Well, I-I-I thought...'
'You didn't think that I... felt... did you?'
'No! No-n-no, Matt! Of course not...'

"Oh... dammit." He whispered under his breath, setting the capped syringe next to the microscope for a count. He wasn't over him, his pretty blonde pretendling. Even through the years of college, his work, piles of research, this blasted, tedium of a residency... Even through all his failed attempts at forgetfulness, it was still there - the skip in his heart and the crushing plunge that followed. He wanted to be sick.

4:45, no - 4:46. The LEDs switched over as the timer on the centrifuge went off, pulling him out of a fifty second respite. Jyou's eyes opened, and he pinched the bridge of his nose - muscle memory - turning off the electronic beeping with the other hand. He plucked the spun blood out of its metal cushion and replaced his glasses. Only two more hours until the end of his shift, five minutes till his ten minute break. Would he ever need it.
He finished the cell count on Takeru's sample thirty minutes ago, but he was stalling. He couldn't bring himself to take the results. No, it wasn't that they were bad: the ratio showed no infection; he just wanted to postpone the awkwardness for as long as possible.
Hell, now or later - who gave a shit? It was going to have to be done, and why make them wait any longer, this black stone growing in his stomach with every passing moment.
He turned the last corner to 315, and suddenly the crowd rushing about thinned. Was gone. No more excuses to run into. Only Yamato himself, who was exiting said room, eyes probing for someone with good news... Jyou!
"Jyou!" His slim finger in the air caught the fake 'who- me?' attention of the doctor.

Caught. He strode in the same confident doctor-to-be mannerisms he'd almost mastered toward the tall man that was giving him running little goosebumps. Those eyes... He'd forgotten how blue, how deep and troubled they were. His shoulders that jutted under his ever-crisp shirt, the weight of the world - and most presently, his brother - pressing on them. The hair, the lips, the ribcage, the thighs... Jyou sucked in a staggering breath, legs going on autopilot to where they knew they must.
"I've got good news, Matt - he's gonna be just fine." Shaking finger dug into his white coat, trying to cooly fetch the results. "See, his-his antibodies are up, T-cells, etc..." He put the paper back, digging again for the prescription dictated by the division supervising doctor. "Oxy-oxycodone for the pain and swelling... three times a d-day..."
Matt was scrutinizing him carefully, and Jyou was breaking, his fingers, his voice, fleeing at the most crucial seconds. The pale man laughed nervously, mind wandering and failing. Yamato's eyes were on him, inspecting - how he wanted to be inspected, torn apart by him - but - but not in this way...
Jyou was defeating himself, the little voice that was the bane of his most trying days deriding his attempts at calmness and serenity. 'You know he's laughing at you.' 'They'll all be laughing at you.' Calm: something that he couldn't regain now, his face flushing into flames.

Why wouldn't that prescription bottle come out of his cotton pocket? He was beginning to shake from rage and frustration, and little tears of stress threatened to fall. Why? Why was he still staring like that?!
Yamato reached his hand out, over the quaking one of his friend. Friend? Not in a long time - longer than they'd been apart - before Jyou left for school.
His hand was like ice to the frightened man, freezing him in mid-panic. He swallowed hard, his turn to stare at the hand - the one he'd dreamed about - wrapped in a calming gesture around his own vile appendage. The shaking began anew when Jyou looked into his eyes, penetrating into his skull. Looking long and hard and not letting go.
"Are you okay?" He opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a stuttered jumble of pathetic non-chalances. He hadn't stuttered this bad since he was eight... So he nodded. Yamato breathed deeply through his nostrils. "Do you have time to talk?" The words weren't coming back, so he nodded again.
With a broad, sweeping gesture of his arms, Jyou regained some of his dignity and led Matt into an empty room.

He closed the door behind them and reached to turn on the fluorescent ceiling light.
"No, don't." Matt's hand again covered his and stopped the intrusion of light. Matt moved his hand to Jyou's jet-black hair and through it, eliciting the same crushing shivers from his spine. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Yamato's silhouette framed by the slanting light from the window blinds. Why? Why was he doing this? He didn't want to read too much into the situation, so Jyou kept silent, spinning in his head, ready to fall.
"Do you still like me?" His eyes shot open, frozen again by the blonde dream. "You liked me, in high school, didn't you?" Back shut. He swallowed down the lump, knowing that if he opened his mouth,, all that would come out would be tears.
"So do you still like me?" Yamato was smarter than most people gave him credit for. He could read the neurotic, frenzied and random twitching of Jyou better than any psychologist. Read, understood, and then manipulated. The hand that was lazily playing through his locks settled on the base of his head, firm enough to keep it in place as he leaned forward and brushed against his lips. A tortured frown set itself on Jyou's face and the blonde pulled back.
"I need to have you, just this once. When I... when I saw you back there for the first time in years, I... I knew..." He didn't finish, pinning the more-than-willing-but-slightly-confused doctor against the door. His lips were on his; his tongue greedily seeking out the other's. Jyou only pulled back to say five words - the easiest in his life.
"I'm yours for ten minutes."
Some never-seen portion of Jyou acted then, guiding Matt to one fo the beds in the darkened room. He turned around, scooting back onto the bare, un-made mattress, wrapping his legs around his obsession. It felt so good to be near Matt like this, to be touched like this, but it ended all too abruptly.
"No... not this way." Matt stepped back, pulling Jyou to his feet. Matt sat down on the bed and pulled the older one between his own legs. "I want you like this."
Jyou's eyes stared at him, questioning. Why?..... Yamato brought the other's face down to his with both hands, pulling his glasses off his nose with his tongue and setting them far away at arm's length.
"I figured they were safer over there," he explained.

Matt lost no more time, putting his hands under Jyou's pale blue scrubs; ticking over his ribs and muscles and setting on his taut nipples in slow, firm patterns. Ice. Freezing, burning through his spine. The breath caught in his throat and unthinkingly, he bucked forward with his hips.
"Oh, I see... So that's how you want it..." The guitarist reached forward and began undoing the tied drawstring pants that covered Jyou. "Mmh... yeess..." His voice sounded tight and harsh and he shut his mouth, not wanting to use it anymore. Yamato's cold fingers slipped inside and around Jyou's desire, making him shake again. He tried to talk, to tell Matt how unimaginably good that simple touch felt, but he couldn't - vague half-sounds chattering out between his teeth.
The hospital-issued pants dropped away, and Jyou undid the customary dark blue jeans that Matt always wore, allowing the blonde's attentions to be uninterrupted. Once they were both free, Matt moved further back onto the mattress, dragging Jyou close, so close that the contact made him bite down on his bottom lip.
Yamato paused, waiting for Jyou to take the initiative that was now his. The pause grew.
"Jyou?"
"Hmm?" A light bulb went on in his head and Jyou leaned in close to his face, confused. "Don't we... need..."
"No... No, no, no, don't worry. I'm fine." Seeing the unbelieving look on the unveiled face, he kissed away all the worries, long and deep. "I'm fine, trust me... Take me - like I've always wanted you to."
If-if things had been different, less casual perhaps, Jyou would've cried. Wept openly and sobbed pretty little crystalline tears into the shirt of his lover.
He would've.
Jyou pushed forward slowly, savoring every millimeter of warmth that crept onto him, wrapping him tightly. He tilted his head down to check on Matt and stopped. The blonde's brow furrowed not in pain, but in agitation.
"I'm fine..." He swallowed the rest of Jyou inside him, clamping his legs tight to feel as much as possible. Jyou arched his neck, breathing heavily. This was all- happening so fast and he- all the sensations- all the little places no one had touched before were open and raw and so sensitive and-
And he couldn't help himself, rocking back and forth in a melody of pleasure.

Unbelievable, unimaginable, un-... his mind ran out of words and for the first time in months, stopped functioning. How could it get any better?

But it did, immeasurably so when he plunged deep and sparked a hyper-sensitive spot inside Matt. His dream's face contorted underneath him at that moment and while his back arched upward instinctively, all the muscles in his body tightened, pressing and crushing Jyou in a stranglehold that threatened to never end.
But it wasn't just Matt's body spasming, it was the electricity that rushed through Jyou, the knowledge that he and his ministrations were the cause of so much pleasure that Matts' eyes squeezed tight, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. More. He had to make his love feel more. Jyou placed his hand around Matt, wrapping and stroking him in the same way he'd always dreamed of going. Watching the beautiful blonde shake as his hips grew stronger and his fingers tighter and closer to his burning head.

And Jyou did cry. His eyes watered and two drops of glass fell onto that crisp, white shirt when Matt passed the edge, falling fast, hard, and digging his nails into Jyou's arms, strangling out his name.
"Jyou-" He continued mumbling, his name wafting out of his mouth as his head tossed from side to side. That was all it took - Jyou was never a strong man - and he died as well, fists balling on the clean mattress and forcing himself in tighter and deeper and releasing his useless neuroses into Matt. Mind spinning, there was but one word on his lips and mind.
"Yamato..."

EH: He-he-he.
Jyou: Question. What was the 'seatbelts' reference you made in your intro?
EH: Um, Yoko Kanno's band, silly! THE SEATBELTS!
Yamato: Yeah. That makes no sense.
EH: Sorry. I've been listening to her non-stop while converting this from paper to electrons, so...
Jyou: You can't type very fast, can you?
EH: No. You'd think so, too cause I sit in front of this thing all day...
Yamato: And you need glasses...
EH: Not yet, but soon. Very. Very. Soon.