Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Yuki's Breakfast ❯ Yuki's Breakfast ( Chapter 1 )

Summary: Rated T for the whole situation. Shuichi left Yuki hanging today. All he has to tide him over is a bottle of alcohol. Add a donut, K, Tatsuha, and a video camera, and he's having a bad time.

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. If I did, K would've been fired for blowing up NG Studios. We wouldn't have even gotten to Yoshiki. Also, this story was inspired by the story Tohma's Breakfast on fanfiction.net.

 

Shuichi glanced over at the clock. After a while, even in this…position, one was bound to notice the glaring red light in the corner of the eye. It was 10:45. “Aaah! I'm late!” Yuki ignored him. He'd just established a rhythm and he'd be damned if the brat was going to stop him now. But somehow, the singer wriggled out of his lover grip and into the shower.

Everything happened so quickly that Yuki had to lay there for a few minutes to figure it out. That still left him with a large, rather painful problem down below. What to do? It would be somewhat messy and tedious to do it himself. He'll just grab the brat when he got out of the shower. He won't be getting away this time. He can get shot after that for all he cared. Problem solved. Or so he thought.

By the time he'd settled upon his course of action, Shuichi was fully dressed and in the kitchen looking for a quick breakfast. His eyes landed on a donut. Just as he was about to grab it, the phone rang. I have enough time to get the phone. “Moshi-moshi?”

“Shindou-san, get your ass down here!” He quickly hung up the phone. He'd been hoping K-san hadn't found out their new number. Or had given up trying after he found his number was blocked. Next his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID and sighed with relief. It was Sakano-san. He could handle Sakano-san. “Moshi-moshi?”

“You have until the count of ten to get to the studio. Five.” The next sounds heard were the sound of a door hitting the wall, sneakers slapping the tile floor and a voice screaming, “I'm coming, I'm coming! Just please don't kill me!!!”

“Six.” Everybody was afraid of the happy-go-lucky manager when he decided to get serious about his job. That was when the magnum came out and screams of fear soon followed. Shuichi wondered if he ever used these tactics on Ryuichi.

“Seven.” Fujisaki-kun must not be there. Or maybe K-san has a gun to his head already. The keyboardist and the manager didn't have the best of relationships. Fujisaki-kun was supposed to have tired to leave twice, maybe three times. And K-san should have threatened to kill him this time if he tried to leave. Wait. “Haven't you ever heard of respecting the will of the artist?” Clicks that signaled the loading of a new clip. “Hell no!” Shuichi could see the smile on the American's face, as well as the tears on the boy's face. Partially because he was crying the same ones.

“Nine.” “Aaaaaaaaaaaah!” Shuichi screamed as he sprinted around another corner.

Yuki got up to see what probably put a hole in his wall and found a donut on the counter and the door wide open. He began grumbling as he slammed the door shut and looked at the donut with disdain. He wasn't too fond of sweets, but it was better than nothing. He began to rummage through the cabinets for one of his stronger drinks. If he couldn't have sex, alcohol was the next best thing. There was still the matter of the bulge under his robe, but he could deal with that later. Most of his stores were empty, it having been a rather stressful month. All he found was a bottle of unmarked clear liquid. It definitely wasn't water; the bottle was glass. Then it hit him: I took that a couple of weeks ago from Tatsuha…

-start flashback-

Yuki was ready to kill. Once he found that cat, he was definitely going to put it out of its misery. As he opened the balcony window, it turned around and said, “Look bro, I'm Ryuichi!” before giving the Tokyo night the worst version of “Spicy Marmalade” he'd ever heard, shaking his hips just like the living legend.

Spicy marmalade jidai wa marude

Ui himeta kao de madowaseru

 

Yuki sat on the couch and grabbed a beer. Well, since he was up, he might as well enjoy the free entertainment.

 

nani furueteru kairaku shugisha ga warau

sameta REERU no ue kizu kazu ni shiku mareta mirai

 

Shouts of “Shut the hell up!” started to reverberate throughout the building. Yuki decided it was time to get rid of the annoying, but entertaining drunk brother.

 

kibasa ga jama suru jounetsu ga douka shiteru

kanari akumu janai? taikutsu ga shouwa shiteru

 

Especially singing that half-assed song. Yuki groaned inwardly. Next, he sucked in a huge breath and yelled, “Look, there's Sakuma-san! On the other side of town!” Tatsuha suddenly stopped singing and leaped off the balcony. Yuki ran to the place where his brother last stood. He may have been an idiot, but he was still family. However, a glance over the rail eased his slight worry. Tatsuha was racing off into the night. He shook his head and was about to go back inside when he saw a bottle beside his foot. He scrutinized it, tasted it and said, “No wonder he was acting like that. This is some strong stuff. He's gonna have a hell of a hangover in the morning.” He smirked and put it away where he knew his brother wouldn't find it.

-end flashback-

 

Yuki tilted his head to the side as he thought, Am I desperate enough? …Yes. He grabbed the bottle and the donut and sat at his computer. He took a swig of the drink and started to type. After about 10 minutes of doing a lot more drinking that writing, he started to realize that something was wrong. The first sign was when the characters started to look like Greek, instead of Japanese. The next sign was the tingling in his legs. He got up and was about to start walking around to stop his legs from falling asleep. Until he saw the donut. The scariest sign that something was wrong was when the donut morphed into Shuichi's ass right before his eyes. He knew that it wasn't real, and this brand of alcohol was particularly strong, but his dick wasn't getting the memo. His vision began to blur as he staggered toward the donut. Yuki's last coherent thought was, I hope the brat doesn't come home early.

 

Shuichi reached the studio door just as K counted ten. To congratulate him for making the time limit, the manager traced Shuichi's outline into the door. With bullets. That part of the door fell in to reveal a frozen Shuichi. However, he stayed frozen, his eyebrows drawn together in thought. Suddenly he jumped up and turned around. In the blink of an eye, there was a rifle between Shuichi's eyebrows. K said cheerily, “Don't even think about it.”

Shuichi looked up, tars flowing down his cheeks. “I forgot something at home, and I think it's important! Can I pleeeeeease go back home? Please?” The blonde thought for a few moments, keeping the rifle trained on the singer. “Fine,” he finally said. As Shuichi turned to run away, K grabbed him by his collar. “I'm coming too. I don't trust you to come back.” As the two left the building, they ran into Tatsuha, who invited himself along. He probably just wanted money.

 

Yuki woke up and groaned. His muscles were so stiff it's like he…Wait a minute. Why am I on the floor? Directly in his line of sight was his younger brother, rolling on the floor and looking like he was really going to laugh his ass off. Behind him was a tall blonde with a ponytail—probably the brat's crazy manager—turned toward the door. From somewhere else in the room, he could hear Shuichi crying about cheating on him with a donut. Of course, Yuki was confused, but the pounding in his head wasn't making the job of figuring this out any easier. As he raised his head, he finally figured out the reason for the commotion. The donut. That damn donut. It had somehow ended on his dick in a horse-shoe style. It went without saying that his libido has finally been satisfied. Now all he wanted was an aspirin and to go to sleep and hope this was a bad dream.

Tatsuha held up the bottle. “It looks like you finally met your match. Just a couple of glasses and I woke up in Sapporo. This stuff makes vodka seem like water.” Yuki looked at him rather blankly. The amused younger brother condensed it to two words: “190 proof.” That was enough to widen the author's eyes. He found his robe and, narrowing his eyes, said, “This never happened. Now get out.”

However threatening Yuki had sounded, the monk hadn't moved. Instead, he had the kind of expression that told of all his inner desires and gave promises of intimate fun. Basically the kind of look one shouldn't be giving his older brother.

“Now hold up, big bro. You're going to have to buy my silence on something this big.” Without skipping a beat, he responded, “My wallet's on the dresser in my bedroom.” “Thanks. I'll grab that on the way out.” That was K speaking. Against his better judgment, Yuki turned around to see that K's face mirrored Tatsuha's. That wasn't a good sign. When they grabbed him, he found that his limbs had turned to jelly. That wasn't a good sign. He, surprised that Shuichi hadn't started attacking them, looked in the direction he's last heard him to find him gone. That wasn't a good sign. That damn brat would disappear now. If someone doesn't come here in the next minute, I'm going to be literally screwed.

 

Yuki's ass hurt. It throbbed. It ached. If the brat feels like this after we screw, maybe I should go a bit easier…Nah. It's not me, and I'm never getting into this position again. He was in too much pain to imagine slow, torturous deaths for his younger brother and his lover's manager. Anymore.

“Hey Shuichi, when can I get a copy?”

Well, that was suspicious. Yuki moved his eyes over what he could see of the room, which wasn't much, considering his head was still smashed into his mattress. His eyes landed on a video camera. He was recording this whole time?! Yuki was seeing red by now.

Shuichi bounced back into the bedroom, his usual bundle of energy and emotion. As Yuki set up his imaginary torture chamber for a new person while glaring daggers into his back, Shuichi lilted animatedly, “Yuki, Yuki, Yuki,” then his voice took a darker tone, “blackmail, blackmail, blackmail…”