[FIC] There's No Place Like It (Jackal/Marui; NC-17)
Office fic. Lots of cameos. Lots of potential couples. Sex included. My newest 30_kisses fic. Read it flist!
Disclaimer: PoT is Konomi's sandbox, I just play in it.
Warnings: AU, m/m relationships, graphic sex, big gay conspiracy, humor, WAFF, rampant cameos
A/N: written for 30_kisses theme #20: the road home
There's No Place Like It
by Solanum Dulcamara
"Get Fuji Syuusuke on the phone. We need that other photo for the cover."
"We go to print at the end of the week, Mukahi-san. Is your column going to be complete?"
"What the hell is going on with my computer? Where is tech support?"
Normally keen to let the chaos of the office during publishing week pass him by as he did his work calmly at his desk, Jackal Kuwahara was hyperaware of his surroundings today. He was waiting. The layout on his screen was still only half-finished, but he didn't have the presence of mind to work on it. So, he decided to rescue the fashion editor, Mizuki Hajime, or more precisely rescue Mizuki's computer. He stood from his desk in the art and layout department and made his way down the hall, past cubicles of staff reporters, past the cold glass walls of meeting rooms and the fashion and beauty departments. Jackal gave a brief smile to Tachibana An, their receptionist, before entering the first solid door before the elevators. The two desks in the small, cold room were covered in layers of papers, cast-off computer parts, and junk food or junk food debris. A plucky carrot top named Sengoku Kiyosumi appeared to be running a system analysis, but on closer inspection was IMing someone... probably a girl. The wall above his desk was covered in pinup posters, as well as a decent collection of personal photographs from the ever-growing collection of girls he'd picked up. He called them the "Yesterdays", "Nows", and "Maybes". The other desk, the one decorated with anime and video game paraphernalia, seemed empty at first glance. Jackal, however, knew better. He walked over and ducked to look underneath to find Akutagawa Jiroh, head of tech support, asleep with his head pillowed on the orange backpack that served as a sort-of briefcase. "Jiroh-kun, time to go to work," his voice was soft but firm as he reached under to pull his senior coworker out. Jiroh, for his part, blinked and yawned when set on his feet, though he miraculously didn't fall over.
"Hmm? Jackal-san? What are you doing here? I thought you'd be all preoccupied. Isn't Marui coming back today?"
Jackal didn't try to answer the last question because his chest tightened at the mention of Marui's name alone. "Mizuki-san needs your help."
"Ah~ He's always so stressed out during publishing week. He's going to give himself an ulcer or a heart-attack or something," Jiroh yawned again, "There's probably nothing even wrong with his computer, but I'll look. Thanks. Maybe I'll see what Atobe's up to." The sleepy department head wandered out leaving Jackal shaking his head. Jiroh was the only employee that left a suffix off of their editor-in-chief's name; a point that the very imperious Atobe Keigo never seemed to contend. Maybe he just knew how to choose his battles. Jackal didn't bother to try to have a conversation, brief or otherwise, with Sengoku, who was wearing ear-buds and had been oblivious to the entire exchange.
On his way out of the dimly lit room and back to the main office area, Jackal almost tripped on their intern, Dan Taichi, as he hurried by with a stack of files. He watched the news editor, Oishi Syuuichiroh talk quietly to Kikumaru Eiji, a columnist for the entertainment department, by the water cooler. Their heads were tilted conspiratorially close and both were oblivious to the penetrating stare of Kikumaru's editor, Tezuka Kunimitsu - a man who seemed amused so infrequently that Jackal wondered exactly how he knew anything about entertainment. Jackal didn't know either terribly well, though he enjoyed Oishi's company on the occasions when they'd spoken... he'd long suspected, though, that they were something a bit more than coworkers. Kikumaru leaned in to Oishi's ear, red hair brushing Oishi's cheek, and Jackal watched Oishi's eyes widen briefly before he smiled. That smile was reciprocated as Kikumaru leaned back, straightened Oishi's tie, and headed back to his department, calling, "Hey, Tezuka! What's with that constipated look? Oh, yeah. I hated the movie I have to review, too." Definitely more than coworkers.
Or maybe he was just projecting on them because he was still waiting for Marui to get back. He went back into his department. His department head, Yanagi Renji, was a soft-spoken man who expected much but asked little. He didn't even raise an eyebrow at Jackal's reentry. Jackal flopped into his chair and stared at the incomplete layout and it stared right back. He thought instead about Marui.
He'd gone through a series of interviews with the human resource department, then Yanagi-san, then Atobe-shachou for his current position within Sakaki Publishing, hired to design layouts for the prestigious Jyetto Setto magazine, publication to the young, wealthy, and fabulous. It was an exciting opportunity for Jackal. He'd spent the past three years working at a small, understaffed weekly, waiting for just this kind of chance. His first day of work in the tall, rather intimidating skyscraper, he paused to mentally prepare himself before swiping his new ID card and entering past security. He paused just long enough to hear the slap of flip-flops on the marble floor. The sound echoed through the high ceilinged reception area. Jackal turned to find a short - though, in fairness, Jackal found many people short - man with bubble gum pink hair crossing the lobby. He wore bright red capris and a white tank top, and was burdened by a tan canvas messenger bag and a large pink and red hawaiian print shoulder bag, with one hand clutching a gourmet to-go coffee cup and the other a large cinnamon bun. Jackal looked down at his own black suit, then back up at the man quickly approaching and wondered if the building had any kind of dress code. The pink hair stopped just short of Jackal, and he looked down into eyes that were... lavender?! Those had to be contacts.
"Hey, tall, dark and yakuza-looking. Do you mind helping me out a bit?" the stranger swiveled his hips back and forth, jiggling the ID card that hung from his belt-loop.
Surprised into complacency and generally willing to help those in need, Jackal reached down and pulled the card up and through the scanner. He stood watching fluffy pink hair make its way forward.
The stranger turned, "You coming or what? I need you to push the elevator buttons for me, too."
Oddly chastened, he swiped his own card without hesitation and hurried to catch up. It was only after he'd pressed the up button and was waiting with the overly-casual new acquaintance that Jackal wondered what exactly possessed him to hurry after this person who was, he noticed, chewing bright green gum. The doors opened with a ding, and manners ensured he let the other on before himself.
"Floor 14, if you don't mind."
"Jyetto Setto? You work for Atobe-shachou?"
"Yeah. You must be the new hire. I heard gossip in the mill before I left for the Virgin Islands."
"Um... yes. Jackal Kuwahara. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Marui Bunta. Travel writer and restaurant critic. Nice to meet you."
"Do you always dress like you're traveling when you come to the office," it was a potentially impertinent question, but one Jackal felt the need to ask. He wasn't prepared for Marui's sharp, quick laughter, though.
"Ha. Yeah. I guess. I think that the travel time and the writing time all blends together after awhile. I only take notes and keep a minor journal while actually abroad. So, the clothes keep me in the spirit of the vacation. Or something. At least, I think that's what I'll tell Atobe-shachou if he ever decides to complain."
Jackal nodded, amused and bewildered.
"Oh. A few tips for surviving the office," Marui leaned close and cracked his gum for emphasis, "The little intern, Dan Taichi, means well but rushes around blindly and has been known to cause a few collisions. Mizuki Hajime, you'll know him by his curls, is the reigning diva of floor fourteen. Beware his wrath. If you ever have computer problems, look for Jiroh under his desk in tech support. And, if you think any two people are having sex, they probably are."
The doors opened to the busy and bustling floor fourteen, home of Jyetto Setto, before Jackal could think of a way to respond. Marui just winked once and headed off to be greeted by a loud man with flippy red hair.
"...-san? Jackal-san?"
He started so violently, he bumped both knees on the underside of his desk, knocking over a container of pencils Marui'd made from a can of gourmet coffee beans. He hated getting caught daydreaming at work. Not that it happened often... at least, not too often. If he was thinking about Brazil or if Marui was away or... anyway, he tried not to let it happen too often. Jackal looked sheepishly up at Oishi, who wore a knowing smile.
"I apologize for disturbing you, Jackal-san. I just wanted to check on the status of the pages I sent you. They're looking good, if not quite finished. Perhaps you should take a break, though. Marui-san returns today, doesn't he?" Oishi's tone was sympathetic, "I'd probably be a bit distracted if I knew Ei... Kikumaru-san were returning from a trip overseas."
Jackal thought that he really ought to get to know Oishi better; the more he spoke with him, the more he was sure they'd get along. Oishi left the department with a knowing smile firmly in place. Jackal paused. Those statements had heavy implications... Were he and Marui acting inappropriately at work? Sure, they left off suffixes... And they often had lunch together... And Marui always came by to see him first after a trip, instead of Tezuka-san... But friends did those kinds of things. Maybe Oishi just suspected them in the same way that Jackal suspected Oishi and Kikumaru. Maybe he was being paranoid and over thinking and really did need to take a break. If Marui were here, he'd rub Jackal's head and say, "It's getting warm with working too hard." He stood abruptly, not bothering to save what was on the screen, as he hadn't gotten any work done, and made his way through the maze of cubicles to the water cooler, one of his favorite vantage points. The throng of publishing week continued on around him. Requests for rewrites. Last minute fact-checking. Calls for quote confirmations. Dozens of desperate demands for coffee. Kirihara Akaya, a young staffer who floated around the entertainment department as needed, was brandishing his latest article and boasting about how he could do certain jobs better than certain people who were gone half the time anyway. He'd been vying for Marui's position from his first day in the office, and fancied himself a travel writer because he once took a trip to Okinawa to write a review on the local beach scene. Marui's response to that had been indignant disdain, eating a gallon of chocolate gelato and remarking that Okinawa was "boring and five years ago" and a trip there did not "make a travel writer out of that rough, green upstart". Jackal had to smile as Kirihara proudly read off an anecdote to Dan-kun, who listened politely. He imagined that Marui was just as much of an upstart when he'd first gotten into writing.
In an open-air office near by, Mukahi Gakuto, liberal political columnist extraordinare, sat on the shiny mahogany desk of the resident advice columnist, Oshitari Yuushi. Mukahi's bright blue eyes scanned the screen as Oshitari typed, his Dr. Marten boots banging arrhythmically against the expensive wood. "Yuushi," his nasal voice was sharp with distaste, "You don't really believe this shit, do you?"
Without his fingers pausing, Oshitari replied smoothy, "Of course I do... at least partially. Besides, the readers love it, and that's what sells magazines."
"Don't you think you ought to actually, you know, advise people with an advice column? Call me crazy..."
"You know I'd never call you crazy," the slow drawl of Oshitari's kansai-ben was clearly amused, "I prefer the term eccentric. It has much more positive connotations."
"Ha-freaking-ha."
"Gakuto, columns are opinion pieces, and opinions can never be wrong. They can, however, generate interest and increase circulation."
"Very romantic. This kind of economic talk coming from the man who writes Dokuta- Rabu."
"Have you ever seen this kind of advice applied to my everyday life?"
"No. I'd have to kill you."
"Then you can rest assured that my true romantic nature is safe and secure."
"You're cute, Yuushi."
Now Jackal knew he was projecting. He was seeing intimacy everywhere. He crushed his paper cup and turned to throw it away just in time to catch Kabaji Munehiro, Atobe's very faithful assistant, cave, as he always did, to Jiroh's persistent smile. The young tech head bounded in through the heavy wood door, and, unless Jackal had been mistaken, he thought he'd glimpsed his editor-in-chief smiling in that brief moment before the door swung shut. Projecting again. Staring at his computer screen would be more productive than this. Though, he did feel an odd sense of relief, as if he weren't alone. He shrugged the feeling off and started back in the direction of the layout department. He didn't quite make it there because across the office, over the tops of cubicles, he watched the elevator doors ding open and pink hair come flouncing out. As much intentionally as otherwise, Jackal immediately changed course. He found Marui standing near An, exchanging pleasantries as if he were waiting for Jackal to appear. Jackal's chest was at odds with itself; it felt tighter, easier to breath, and as if his heart might crawl up into his throat. Marui looked good in his buttery cashmere sweater and brown suede pants; a week in California wine country obviously suited him. He had too many things he wanted to say: 'I missed you', 'A week is too long', 'I haven't been able to concentrate on work all day', 'You're beautiful'; he settled on the safely mundane, "How was your trip?" instead.
"Good. Great. You know I love wine. They pay me to go to gorgeous places and get plastered. I couldn't have designed a better job for myself," Marui grinned.
"I thought you did design the job or at least, specify what you wanted to write about."
"Yeah. You're right. I'm a genius. Want to stop at that falafel shop for dinner? I know it's a little out of the way, but-"
"There's food at home," he hadn't meant to be quite so abrupt or sound quite that overeager.
Marui raised an eyebrow, but smiled. "If you're feeding me, that's fine." His eyes raised to just behind Jackal. "Incoming."
A hand landed very gently on Jackal's shoulder, and he knew without turning that it would be Yanagi-san. "Kuwahara. I'm afraid that the day is more than half over and your current layout is less than half finished. Those two facts ought to be reconciled, don't you think?" His tone was pleasant, undemanding, but Jackal was well aware that the question wasn't a request. He nodded once, gave Marui an apologetic look, and turned quickly toward the art and layout department. Behind him, he heard his supervisor's soft voice call, "Akaya, may we have a brief word in relative privacy?"
His desk and the unfinished layout were waiting for him when he arrived. He lowered himself slowly into the swivel chair and looked critically at the screen. If he concentrated, he might be able to finish by the end of the day. His hand went to his mouse and started selecting text to arrange. The soft yellow of the sweater really had complemented Marui's skin, and he'd thought he'd seen a couple of freckles. Marui must have spent some time outside. Jackal had heard that California was sunny... at least in the summer, he wasn't sure about autumn. Marui looked really well-rested for being fresh off a plane. Most people looked like crap after flights - especially international ones - but Marui always did travel well. He said he was born for it. Jackal sometimes worried that the world would steal Marui away from him one day.
A hand rubbed his head in soothing circles. The touch was so sudden and unexpected, Jackal's body jerked. He turned to look, some rational part of his brain knowing that only Marui would be touching his head... or any other part of him, for that matter. The grin that greeted him was wide and toothy, and the hand on his head turned him back towards the computer screen, where he found chaos had quite taken over his previously neat layout, even if said layout had only been partially finished. Had he really been so distracted? Marui was laughing; he could hear it, whether or not it was well-muffled. He glanced at the top corner of his screen. After six. The day was already ending. Now that he was aware, he heard the sounds of people packing up and heading out all around him. The top of his head felt oddly cool when Marui removed his hand.
"You've got a back-up of an earlier version, right?" Marui's tone was light and casual, meant to de-emphasize any potential lost work.
"I haven't saved since my most complete version earlier today."
A chin landed on his shoulder, wispy tips of pink hair brushing against Jackal's ear. "Then come home with me 'Hara."
He couldn't find any reason to argue with the logic and didn't have the strength of will to resist the low voice that requested as much as demanded. The weight of Marui's chin stayed comfortably on his shoulder as he shut down his computer, not saving the destruction of his document. He stood and turned to find Marui smiling up at him - a small, close-mouthed smile, anticipation curled in the corners of his lips. Jackal's stomach tightened at the smile and its promises. He tilted his head in the direction of the elevator, and both turned, not in synchronization, but with similar sense of purpose. They joined the crowd squeezed into the elevator compartment, everyone eager to head home for the day. Yagyuu Hiroshi, the mouth-breather from floor 16, could be heard inhaling and exhaling loudly in the back of the elevator. Jackal was just glad they weren't standing near him - he'd felt the unpleasant gushes of breath before and had no desire to relive that experience. A fingertip traced the seem of his pant-leg on his thigh, sending a shock of nerves up his leg and then back. He glanced to the side, but Marui was staring at the doors patiently, as if oblivious to the minor molestation. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the floor numbers during the rest of their descent. The doors opened and the elevator spilled into the lobby, then the crowd of coworkers spread onto the street, everyone going their own way for the evening. Jackal and Marui turned toward the train station and insinuated themselves into the steady flow of pedestrians on the sidewalk. Traffic crept at intervals on the street beside them. Most people walked with the crowd at the same brisk pace, an occasional person being left behind in the tide, others trying to push more quickly. Despite the movement of people on all sides, Jackal was acutely aware of the periodic brush of fingers against the back of his hand. It was the first time that Jackal had an urge to rush through the formidable masses. The train station couldn't have come soon enough. In the train car, amongst the crush of people, Jackal found no relief. They stood near the back, holding handrails, the press of other passengers necessitating a proximity that allowed Jackal to feel the warmth of Marui's body along his entire left side. Marui didn't seem perturbed. In fact, he was rather leaning inconspicuously against Jackal, who was starting to wonder if he'd make it home with his sanity in tact.
Quite without consent from his brain, he grabbed Marui's elbow as soon as they reached their stop. Pulling the shorter man from the train, he hurried them both along the less-populated sidewalk. Fortunately, they lived rather close to the station. The little old man from the second floor, who everyone simply called Ojii, was out walking his shih-tzu. They passed Ryuzaki-san, the landlady on their way into the elevator, but Jackal didn't bother with any niceties and he didn't stop to allow Marui any either. His grip on Marui's elbow didn't loosen in the slightest during the brief ride to the third floor. He could sense Marui smiling, but paid it no heed. They exited into the nondescript hallway with white walls and cream carpet, walking briskly to the second door on the left. His keys were found quickly in his otherwise empty pocket, and Jackal pulled Marui into their apartment, impatience making the move a bit rougher than he'd intended.
It was a pleasant and rather large apartment - kitchen, dining and living room, and two separate bedrooms, one of which was used as a study and office by Marui, who was as close to freelance as a writer could be while contractually obligated to a company. The only comfort of home that Jackal was interested in at the moment was the one sliding his bags onto the floor and reaching slender, pale hands up around Jackal's neck. The week of nights spent laying awake with his nose pressed into the pillows that smelled of Marui; the lunches alone at his desk, instead of at colorful bistros with rapid conversation; the day of waiting that had left him entirely empty-headed... it had all been far too long. His arms wrapped around Marui, yanking him close. He kissed Marui, or Marui kissed him. It didn't really matter which because Marui's mouth was warm and open, and he was pressing his tongue inside, feeling Marui's slide against it. His hands tightened on the small of his lover's back. Breathing came in small pants between the urgent press of their mouths. Marui's fingers rubbed along the stubble at the back of his head and dipped into his shirt collar. He felt his balls draw up and the erection he'd probably had since the moment he saw Marui in the office throbbed painfully. He groaned pulling his mouth from Marui's. "I can't wait," his voice was rough, "We should get to the room."
"Why," the husky pitch Marui's voice always got when he wanted sex slid straight to Jackal's groin, "Just get me out of these pants and do me here." Those slender, pale hands were reaching for Jackal's belt, dexterous fingers working to unbuckle it.
"But I..." the protest died before it began as Marui slipped the belt free.
"You've got forever to be gentle with me, 'Hara. Right now, I just want to feel you inside me." He'd set to work on the button and zipper of Jackal's slacks.
"Lube."
"Sunblock in my bag." Marui was toeing off a boot and unfastening his own pants.
Any other protests some mutinous, practical part of Jackal's brain may have had, weren't enough to compete with his need for Marui. He bent to the Hawaiian print bag and filtered through till he found the bottle of sunblock.
As soon as he stood, Marui's hands were back at his pants, peeling them open, pushing down his briefs, reaching inside and grabbing his erection, and Jackal's breath caught in his chest, hot and burning, his hips bucking against the touch that he'd missed so very much. Marui chuckled and pulled him free of the confines of his clothing. He bit back his groan of relief, pushing Marui into the wall. He kicked aside shoes and house slippers, leaning into the heat of Marui's body. He felt the rapid rise and fall of Marui's chest and the insistent digging of Marui's erection against his thigh.
"'Hara, back up so we can get this sunblock on you. For someone impatient, you sure can take your time," the low husk of Marui's voice tended towards a whine; he was always twice as impatient as Jackal.
He wanted Marui just as badly, though, and even the thought of teasing was beyond him. He leaned back enough for Marui to reach between them, taking the bottle from Jackal's hand and pouring liberal amounts over his cock. The sunblock was cold dripping down his overheated flesh. He sucked in a breath and held it as Marui smoothed the lotion lightly over his skin. It dripped down his pant-leg, droplets speckled the floor. All Jackal cared about was the unsatisfying pressure of Marui's fingers on his cock. His balls were drawn up painfully tight - he couldn't wait. Jackal pressed Marui back into the wall, hands sliding down the slim, firm body and under the ample curve of Marui's ass, lifting his lover and stepping between his spread legs. Marui reached down under himself, finding Jackal's erection with practiced ease and positioning it to let Jackal and gravity do the rest. Jackal let Marui slide down the wall, down onto his cock, and had to grit his teeth against the incredible pressure. Marui quickly let go of Jackal's cock, wrapping both arms over Jackal's shoulders, fingers digging into Jackal's shoulder blades. They'd lived together for just over a year and had been having sex several months longer than that, but Jackal never got tired of the deliciousness of sinking into Marui's willing body. Strong legs wrapped around his hips, and that was about as much encouragement as Jackal needed. His hips pulled back and jerked forward. He pressed again and again into the warmth of Marui, the friction, the tightness. Marui felt incredible around him. He'd missed this, the way their bodies fit together so well. Every twitch of Marui's body drove him on. Faster. Harder. Marui's mouth was open on a long moan that broke on each thrust. He could feel the heat of Marui's breath at the opening of his shirt. His legs trembled, it felt so good. Heat and pleasure sunk into his stomach and lower. He drove into Marui again, listening to the slap of flesh on flesh. Marui's ass cheeks were warm and supple where he gripped. His fingers tightened; he'd leave bruises. He could feel Marui's cock slapping his stomach with the movements. Sweat trickled down his brow, but all he felt was Marui. He let his forehead fall against the wall behind Marui, hips pumping ever-more erratically. Marui's sweater had bunched up between them, folds of the soft knit fabric rubbing his chest through his oxford. Marui pressed his face against Jackal's chest, voice dying off, leg muscles flexing, body tensing, and Jackal felt the warm wet drip of Marui's come on his crotch, catching in the black curls of his pubic hair. Marui's body was supple against him, and all he could do was thrust into it with increasing need. He heard the growl in his chest, but any other noise was beyond him. His awareness narrowed to the feel of burying himself in Marui, until the heat and pleasure were too much. Still he pressed in, vision whiting over, legs trembling, he pressed deeper, his heart racing, his chest tight. His nerve-endings thrummed for a moment of overwhelming sensation, and then he sagged against Marui and the wall. It was by sheer will that they didn't fall over.
Marui's breath was slowing to a more normal rate. His fingers smoothed over Jackal's shoulders. His voice was muffled by Jackal's chest, "You know, 'Hara, part of the reason traveling is wonderful is because I get to come home to you. Planes are just as much my road home as my gateway to adventure."
He knew that. They'd discussed it many times before. Though he'd always thought that Marui was most at home on his way to exotic locales, Marui insisted that no place could be home without Jackal. One day, he'd believe it. One day, the panicking would stop and he'd be able to peacefully await Marui's return.
Marui chuckled lightly, a hoarse sound after all of his moaning. "I sometimes think that in these moments, you're taking me back from the world. I kind of like it."
Then again, passion was part of a Latino's nature, and he didn't really need to get over anything that didn't bother Marui.
"I hope you really do have something to feed to me, 'Hara, because I very sincerely just worked up an appetite. And I need you to put me down now. My legs are cramping."
And this man, with his sudden shifts of mood that Jackal was entirely used to, was the only comfort of home Jackal really needed in all of their very comfortable apartment.
Disclaimer: PoT is Konomi's sandbox, I just play in it.
Warnings: AU, m/m relationships, graphic sex, big gay conspiracy, humor, WAFF, rampant cameos
A/N: written for 30_kisses theme #20: the road home
There's No Place Like It
by Solanum Dulcamara
"Get Fuji Syuusuke on the phone. We need that other photo for the cover."
"We go to print at the end of the week, Mukahi-san. Is your column going to be complete?"
"What the hell is going on with my computer? Where is tech support?"
Normally keen to let the chaos of the office during publishing week pass him by as he did his work calmly at his desk, Jackal Kuwahara was hyperaware of his surroundings today. He was waiting. The layout on his screen was still only half-finished, but he didn't have the presence of mind to work on it. So, he decided to rescue the fashion editor, Mizuki Hajime, or more precisely rescue Mizuki's computer. He stood from his desk in the art and layout department and made his way down the hall, past cubicles of staff reporters, past the cold glass walls of meeting rooms and the fashion and beauty departments. Jackal gave a brief smile to Tachibana An, their receptionist, before entering the first solid door before the elevators. The two desks in the small, cold room were covered in layers of papers, cast-off computer parts, and junk food or junk food debris. A plucky carrot top named Sengoku Kiyosumi appeared to be running a system analysis, but on closer inspection was IMing someone... probably a girl. The wall above his desk was covered in pinup posters, as well as a decent collection of personal photographs from the ever-growing collection of girls he'd picked up. He called them the "Yesterdays", "Nows", and "Maybes". The other desk, the one decorated with anime and video game paraphernalia, seemed empty at first glance. Jackal, however, knew better. He walked over and ducked to look underneath to find Akutagawa Jiroh, head of tech support, asleep with his head pillowed on the orange backpack that served as a sort-of briefcase. "Jiroh-kun, time to go to work," his voice was soft but firm as he reached under to pull his senior coworker out. Jiroh, for his part, blinked and yawned when set on his feet, though he miraculously didn't fall over.
"Hmm? Jackal-san? What are you doing here? I thought you'd be all preoccupied. Isn't Marui coming back today?"
Jackal didn't try to answer the last question because his chest tightened at the mention of Marui's name alone. "Mizuki-san needs your help."
"Ah~ He's always so stressed out during publishing week. He's going to give himself an ulcer or a heart-attack or something," Jiroh yawned again, "There's probably nothing even wrong with his computer, but I'll look. Thanks. Maybe I'll see what Atobe's up to." The sleepy department head wandered out leaving Jackal shaking his head. Jiroh was the only employee that left a suffix off of their editor-in-chief's name; a point that the very imperious Atobe Keigo never seemed to contend. Maybe he just knew how to choose his battles. Jackal didn't bother to try to have a conversation, brief or otherwise, with Sengoku, who was wearing ear-buds and had been oblivious to the entire exchange.
On his way out of the dimly lit room and back to the main office area, Jackal almost tripped on their intern, Dan Taichi, as he hurried by with a stack of files. He watched the news editor, Oishi Syuuichiroh talk quietly to Kikumaru Eiji, a columnist for the entertainment department, by the water cooler. Their heads were tilted conspiratorially close and both were oblivious to the penetrating stare of Kikumaru's editor, Tezuka Kunimitsu - a man who seemed amused so infrequently that Jackal wondered exactly how he knew anything about entertainment. Jackal didn't know either terribly well, though he enjoyed Oishi's company on the occasions when they'd spoken... he'd long suspected, though, that they were something a bit more than coworkers. Kikumaru leaned in to Oishi's ear, red hair brushing Oishi's cheek, and Jackal watched Oishi's eyes widen briefly before he smiled. That smile was reciprocated as Kikumaru leaned back, straightened Oishi's tie, and headed back to his department, calling, "Hey, Tezuka! What's with that constipated look? Oh, yeah. I hated the movie I have to review, too." Definitely more than coworkers.
Or maybe he was just projecting on them because he was still waiting for Marui to get back. He went back into his department. His department head, Yanagi Renji, was a soft-spoken man who expected much but asked little. He didn't even raise an eyebrow at Jackal's reentry. Jackal flopped into his chair and stared at the incomplete layout and it stared right back. He thought instead about Marui.
He'd gone through a series of interviews with the human resource department, then Yanagi-san, then Atobe-shachou for his current position within Sakaki Publishing, hired to design layouts for the prestigious Jyetto Setto magazine, publication to the young, wealthy, and fabulous. It was an exciting opportunity for Jackal. He'd spent the past three years working at a small, understaffed weekly, waiting for just this kind of chance. His first day of work in the tall, rather intimidating skyscraper, he paused to mentally prepare himself before swiping his new ID card and entering past security. He paused just long enough to hear the slap of flip-flops on the marble floor. The sound echoed through the high ceilinged reception area. Jackal turned to find a short - though, in fairness, Jackal found many people short - man with bubble gum pink hair crossing the lobby. He wore bright red capris and a white tank top, and was burdened by a tan canvas messenger bag and a large pink and red hawaiian print shoulder bag, with one hand clutching a gourmet to-go coffee cup and the other a large cinnamon bun. Jackal looked down at his own black suit, then back up at the man quickly approaching and wondered if the building had any kind of dress code. The pink hair stopped just short of Jackal, and he looked down into eyes that were... lavender?! Those had to be contacts.
"Hey, tall, dark and yakuza-looking. Do you mind helping me out a bit?" the stranger swiveled his hips back and forth, jiggling the ID card that hung from his belt-loop.
Surprised into complacency and generally willing to help those in need, Jackal reached down and pulled the card up and through the scanner. He stood watching fluffy pink hair make its way forward.
The stranger turned, "You coming or what? I need you to push the elevator buttons for me, too."
Oddly chastened, he swiped his own card without hesitation and hurried to catch up. It was only after he'd pressed the up button and was waiting with the overly-casual new acquaintance that Jackal wondered what exactly possessed him to hurry after this person who was, he noticed, chewing bright green gum. The doors opened with a ding, and manners ensured he let the other on before himself.
"Floor 14, if you don't mind."
"Jyetto Setto? You work for Atobe-shachou?"
"Yeah. You must be the new hire. I heard gossip in the mill before I left for the Virgin Islands."
"Um... yes. Jackal Kuwahara. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Marui Bunta. Travel writer and restaurant critic. Nice to meet you."
"Do you always dress like you're traveling when you come to the office," it was a potentially impertinent question, but one Jackal felt the need to ask. He wasn't prepared for Marui's sharp, quick laughter, though.
"Ha. Yeah. I guess. I think that the travel time and the writing time all blends together after awhile. I only take notes and keep a minor journal while actually abroad. So, the clothes keep me in the spirit of the vacation. Or something. At least, I think that's what I'll tell Atobe-shachou if he ever decides to complain."
Jackal nodded, amused and bewildered.
"Oh. A few tips for surviving the office," Marui leaned close and cracked his gum for emphasis, "The little intern, Dan Taichi, means well but rushes around blindly and has been known to cause a few collisions. Mizuki Hajime, you'll know him by his curls, is the reigning diva of floor fourteen. Beware his wrath. If you ever have computer problems, look for Jiroh under his desk in tech support. And, if you think any two people are having sex, they probably are."
The doors opened to the busy and bustling floor fourteen, home of Jyetto Setto, before Jackal could think of a way to respond. Marui just winked once and headed off to be greeted by a loud man with flippy red hair.
"...-san? Jackal-san?"
He started so violently, he bumped both knees on the underside of his desk, knocking over a container of pencils Marui'd made from a can of gourmet coffee beans. He hated getting caught daydreaming at work. Not that it happened often... at least, not too often. If he was thinking about Brazil or if Marui was away or... anyway, he tried not to let it happen too often. Jackal looked sheepishly up at Oishi, who wore a knowing smile.
"I apologize for disturbing you, Jackal-san. I just wanted to check on the status of the pages I sent you. They're looking good, if not quite finished. Perhaps you should take a break, though. Marui-san returns today, doesn't he?" Oishi's tone was sympathetic, "I'd probably be a bit distracted if I knew Ei... Kikumaru-san were returning from a trip overseas."
Jackal thought that he really ought to get to know Oishi better; the more he spoke with him, the more he was sure they'd get along. Oishi left the department with a knowing smile firmly in place. Jackal paused. Those statements had heavy implications... Were he and Marui acting inappropriately at work? Sure, they left off suffixes... And they often had lunch together... And Marui always came by to see him first after a trip, instead of Tezuka-san... But friends did those kinds of things. Maybe Oishi just suspected them in the same way that Jackal suspected Oishi and Kikumaru. Maybe he was being paranoid and over thinking and really did need to take a break. If Marui were here, he'd rub Jackal's head and say, "It's getting warm with working too hard." He stood abruptly, not bothering to save what was on the screen, as he hadn't gotten any work done, and made his way through the maze of cubicles to the water cooler, one of his favorite vantage points. The throng of publishing week continued on around him. Requests for rewrites. Last minute fact-checking. Calls for quote confirmations. Dozens of desperate demands for coffee. Kirihara Akaya, a young staffer who floated around the entertainment department as needed, was brandishing his latest article and boasting about how he could do certain jobs better than certain people who were gone half the time anyway. He'd been vying for Marui's position from his first day in the office, and fancied himself a travel writer because he once took a trip to Okinawa to write a review on the local beach scene. Marui's response to that had been indignant disdain, eating a gallon of chocolate gelato and remarking that Okinawa was "boring and five years ago" and a trip there did not "make a travel writer out of that rough, green upstart". Jackal had to smile as Kirihara proudly read off an anecdote to Dan-kun, who listened politely. He imagined that Marui was just as much of an upstart when he'd first gotten into writing.
In an open-air office near by, Mukahi Gakuto, liberal political columnist extraordinare, sat on the shiny mahogany desk of the resident advice columnist, Oshitari Yuushi. Mukahi's bright blue eyes scanned the screen as Oshitari typed, his Dr. Marten boots banging arrhythmically against the expensive wood. "Yuushi," his nasal voice was sharp with distaste, "You don't really believe this shit, do you?"
Without his fingers pausing, Oshitari replied smoothy, "Of course I do... at least partially. Besides, the readers love it, and that's what sells magazines."
"Don't you think you ought to actually, you know, advise people with an advice column? Call me crazy..."
"You know I'd never call you crazy," the slow drawl of Oshitari's kansai-ben was clearly amused, "I prefer the term eccentric. It has much more positive connotations."
"Ha-freaking-ha."
"Gakuto, columns are opinion pieces, and opinions can never be wrong. They can, however, generate interest and increase circulation."
"Very romantic. This kind of economic talk coming from the man who writes Dokuta- Rabu."
"Have you ever seen this kind of advice applied to my everyday life?"
"No. I'd have to kill you."
"Then you can rest assured that my true romantic nature is safe and secure."
"You're cute, Yuushi."
Now Jackal knew he was projecting. He was seeing intimacy everywhere. He crushed his paper cup and turned to throw it away just in time to catch Kabaji Munehiro, Atobe's very faithful assistant, cave, as he always did, to Jiroh's persistent smile. The young tech head bounded in through the heavy wood door, and, unless Jackal had been mistaken, he thought he'd glimpsed his editor-in-chief smiling in that brief moment before the door swung shut. Projecting again. Staring at his computer screen would be more productive than this. Though, he did feel an odd sense of relief, as if he weren't alone. He shrugged the feeling off and started back in the direction of the layout department. He didn't quite make it there because across the office, over the tops of cubicles, he watched the elevator doors ding open and pink hair come flouncing out. As much intentionally as otherwise, Jackal immediately changed course. He found Marui standing near An, exchanging pleasantries as if he were waiting for Jackal to appear. Jackal's chest was at odds with itself; it felt tighter, easier to breath, and as if his heart might crawl up into his throat. Marui looked good in his buttery cashmere sweater and brown suede pants; a week in California wine country obviously suited him. He had too many things he wanted to say: 'I missed you', 'A week is too long', 'I haven't been able to concentrate on work all day', 'You're beautiful'; he settled on the safely mundane, "How was your trip?" instead.
"Good. Great. You know I love wine. They pay me to go to gorgeous places and get plastered. I couldn't have designed a better job for myself," Marui grinned.
"I thought you did design the job or at least, specify what you wanted to write about."
"Yeah. You're right. I'm a genius. Want to stop at that falafel shop for dinner? I know it's a little out of the way, but-"
"There's food at home," he hadn't meant to be quite so abrupt or sound quite that overeager.
Marui raised an eyebrow, but smiled. "If you're feeding me, that's fine." His eyes raised to just behind Jackal. "Incoming."
A hand landed very gently on Jackal's shoulder, and he knew without turning that it would be Yanagi-san. "Kuwahara. I'm afraid that the day is more than half over and your current layout is less than half finished. Those two facts ought to be reconciled, don't you think?" His tone was pleasant, undemanding, but Jackal was well aware that the question wasn't a request. He nodded once, gave Marui an apologetic look, and turned quickly toward the art and layout department. Behind him, he heard his supervisor's soft voice call, "Akaya, may we have a brief word in relative privacy?"
His desk and the unfinished layout were waiting for him when he arrived. He lowered himself slowly into the swivel chair and looked critically at the screen. If he concentrated, he might be able to finish by the end of the day. His hand went to his mouse and started selecting text to arrange. The soft yellow of the sweater really had complemented Marui's skin, and he'd thought he'd seen a couple of freckles. Marui must have spent some time outside. Jackal had heard that California was sunny... at least in the summer, he wasn't sure about autumn. Marui looked really well-rested for being fresh off a plane. Most people looked like crap after flights - especially international ones - but Marui always did travel well. He said he was born for it. Jackal sometimes worried that the world would steal Marui away from him one day.
A hand rubbed his head in soothing circles. The touch was so sudden and unexpected, Jackal's body jerked. He turned to look, some rational part of his brain knowing that only Marui would be touching his head... or any other part of him, for that matter. The grin that greeted him was wide and toothy, and the hand on his head turned him back towards the computer screen, where he found chaos had quite taken over his previously neat layout, even if said layout had only been partially finished. Had he really been so distracted? Marui was laughing; he could hear it, whether or not it was well-muffled. He glanced at the top corner of his screen. After six. The day was already ending. Now that he was aware, he heard the sounds of people packing up and heading out all around him. The top of his head felt oddly cool when Marui removed his hand.
"You've got a back-up of an earlier version, right?" Marui's tone was light and casual, meant to de-emphasize any potential lost work.
"I haven't saved since my most complete version earlier today."
A chin landed on his shoulder, wispy tips of pink hair brushing against Jackal's ear. "Then come home with me 'Hara."
He couldn't find any reason to argue with the logic and didn't have the strength of will to resist the low voice that requested as much as demanded. The weight of Marui's chin stayed comfortably on his shoulder as he shut down his computer, not saving the destruction of his document. He stood and turned to find Marui smiling up at him - a small, close-mouthed smile, anticipation curled in the corners of his lips. Jackal's stomach tightened at the smile and its promises. He tilted his head in the direction of the elevator, and both turned, not in synchronization, but with similar sense of purpose. They joined the crowd squeezed into the elevator compartment, everyone eager to head home for the day. Yagyuu Hiroshi, the mouth-breather from floor 16, could be heard inhaling and exhaling loudly in the back of the elevator. Jackal was just glad they weren't standing near him - he'd felt the unpleasant gushes of breath before and had no desire to relive that experience. A fingertip traced the seem of his pant-leg on his thigh, sending a shock of nerves up his leg and then back. He glanced to the side, but Marui was staring at the doors patiently, as if oblivious to the minor molestation. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the floor numbers during the rest of their descent. The doors opened and the elevator spilled into the lobby, then the crowd of coworkers spread onto the street, everyone going their own way for the evening. Jackal and Marui turned toward the train station and insinuated themselves into the steady flow of pedestrians on the sidewalk. Traffic crept at intervals on the street beside them. Most people walked with the crowd at the same brisk pace, an occasional person being left behind in the tide, others trying to push more quickly. Despite the movement of people on all sides, Jackal was acutely aware of the periodic brush of fingers against the back of his hand. It was the first time that Jackal had an urge to rush through the formidable masses. The train station couldn't have come soon enough. In the train car, amongst the crush of people, Jackal found no relief. They stood near the back, holding handrails, the press of other passengers necessitating a proximity that allowed Jackal to feel the warmth of Marui's body along his entire left side. Marui didn't seem perturbed. In fact, he was rather leaning inconspicuously against Jackal, who was starting to wonder if he'd make it home with his sanity in tact.
Quite without consent from his brain, he grabbed Marui's elbow as soon as they reached their stop. Pulling the shorter man from the train, he hurried them both along the less-populated sidewalk. Fortunately, they lived rather close to the station. The little old man from the second floor, who everyone simply called Ojii, was out walking his shih-tzu. They passed Ryuzaki-san, the landlady on their way into the elevator, but Jackal didn't bother with any niceties and he didn't stop to allow Marui any either. His grip on Marui's elbow didn't loosen in the slightest during the brief ride to the third floor. He could sense Marui smiling, but paid it no heed. They exited into the nondescript hallway with white walls and cream carpet, walking briskly to the second door on the left. His keys were found quickly in his otherwise empty pocket, and Jackal pulled Marui into their apartment, impatience making the move a bit rougher than he'd intended.
It was a pleasant and rather large apartment - kitchen, dining and living room, and two separate bedrooms, one of which was used as a study and office by Marui, who was as close to freelance as a writer could be while contractually obligated to a company. The only comfort of home that Jackal was interested in at the moment was the one sliding his bags onto the floor and reaching slender, pale hands up around Jackal's neck. The week of nights spent laying awake with his nose pressed into the pillows that smelled of Marui; the lunches alone at his desk, instead of at colorful bistros with rapid conversation; the day of waiting that had left him entirely empty-headed... it had all been far too long. His arms wrapped around Marui, yanking him close. He kissed Marui, or Marui kissed him. It didn't really matter which because Marui's mouth was warm and open, and he was pressing his tongue inside, feeling Marui's slide against it. His hands tightened on the small of his lover's back. Breathing came in small pants between the urgent press of their mouths. Marui's fingers rubbed along the stubble at the back of his head and dipped into his shirt collar. He felt his balls draw up and the erection he'd probably had since the moment he saw Marui in the office throbbed painfully. He groaned pulling his mouth from Marui's. "I can't wait," his voice was rough, "We should get to the room."
"Why," the husky pitch Marui's voice always got when he wanted sex slid straight to Jackal's groin, "Just get me out of these pants and do me here." Those slender, pale hands were reaching for Jackal's belt, dexterous fingers working to unbuckle it.
"But I..." the protest died before it began as Marui slipped the belt free.
"You've got forever to be gentle with me, 'Hara. Right now, I just want to feel you inside me." He'd set to work on the button and zipper of Jackal's slacks.
"Lube."
"Sunblock in my bag." Marui was toeing off a boot and unfastening his own pants.
Any other protests some mutinous, practical part of Jackal's brain may have had, weren't enough to compete with his need for Marui. He bent to the Hawaiian print bag and filtered through till he found the bottle of sunblock.
As soon as he stood, Marui's hands were back at his pants, peeling them open, pushing down his briefs, reaching inside and grabbing his erection, and Jackal's breath caught in his chest, hot and burning, his hips bucking against the touch that he'd missed so very much. Marui chuckled and pulled him free of the confines of his clothing. He bit back his groan of relief, pushing Marui into the wall. He kicked aside shoes and house slippers, leaning into the heat of Marui's body. He felt the rapid rise and fall of Marui's chest and the insistent digging of Marui's erection against his thigh.
"'Hara, back up so we can get this sunblock on you. For someone impatient, you sure can take your time," the low husk of Marui's voice tended towards a whine; he was always twice as impatient as Jackal.
He wanted Marui just as badly, though, and even the thought of teasing was beyond him. He leaned back enough for Marui to reach between them, taking the bottle from Jackal's hand and pouring liberal amounts over his cock. The sunblock was cold dripping down his overheated flesh. He sucked in a breath and held it as Marui smoothed the lotion lightly over his skin. It dripped down his pant-leg, droplets speckled the floor. All Jackal cared about was the unsatisfying pressure of Marui's fingers on his cock. His balls were drawn up painfully tight - he couldn't wait. Jackal pressed Marui back into the wall, hands sliding down the slim, firm body and under the ample curve of Marui's ass, lifting his lover and stepping between his spread legs. Marui reached down under himself, finding Jackal's erection with practiced ease and positioning it to let Jackal and gravity do the rest. Jackal let Marui slide down the wall, down onto his cock, and had to grit his teeth against the incredible pressure. Marui quickly let go of Jackal's cock, wrapping both arms over Jackal's shoulders, fingers digging into Jackal's shoulder blades. They'd lived together for just over a year and had been having sex several months longer than that, but Jackal never got tired of the deliciousness of sinking into Marui's willing body. Strong legs wrapped around his hips, and that was about as much encouragement as Jackal needed. His hips pulled back and jerked forward. He pressed again and again into the warmth of Marui, the friction, the tightness. Marui felt incredible around him. He'd missed this, the way their bodies fit together so well. Every twitch of Marui's body drove him on. Faster. Harder. Marui's mouth was open on a long moan that broke on each thrust. He could feel the heat of Marui's breath at the opening of his shirt. His legs trembled, it felt so good. Heat and pleasure sunk into his stomach and lower. He drove into Marui again, listening to the slap of flesh on flesh. Marui's ass cheeks were warm and supple where he gripped. His fingers tightened; he'd leave bruises. He could feel Marui's cock slapping his stomach with the movements. Sweat trickled down his brow, but all he felt was Marui. He let his forehead fall against the wall behind Marui, hips pumping ever-more erratically. Marui's sweater had bunched up between them, folds of the soft knit fabric rubbing his chest through his oxford. Marui pressed his face against Jackal's chest, voice dying off, leg muscles flexing, body tensing, and Jackal felt the warm wet drip of Marui's come on his crotch, catching in the black curls of his pubic hair. Marui's body was supple against him, and all he could do was thrust into it with increasing need. He heard the growl in his chest, but any other noise was beyond him. His awareness narrowed to the feel of burying himself in Marui, until the heat and pleasure were too much. Still he pressed in, vision whiting over, legs trembling, he pressed deeper, his heart racing, his chest tight. His nerve-endings thrummed for a moment of overwhelming sensation, and then he sagged against Marui and the wall. It was by sheer will that they didn't fall over.
Marui's breath was slowing to a more normal rate. His fingers smoothed over Jackal's shoulders. His voice was muffled by Jackal's chest, "You know, 'Hara, part of the reason traveling is wonderful is because I get to come home to you. Planes are just as much my road home as my gateway to adventure."
He knew that. They'd discussed it many times before. Though he'd always thought that Marui was most at home on his way to exotic locales, Marui insisted that no place could be home without Jackal. One day, he'd believe it. One day, the panicking would stop and he'd be able to peacefully await Marui's return.
Marui chuckled lightly, a hoarse sound after all of his moaning. "I sometimes think that in these moments, you're taking me back from the world. I kind of like it."
Then again, passion was part of a Latino's nature, and he didn't really need to get over anything that didn't bother Marui.
"I hope you really do have something to feed to me, 'Hara, because I very sincerely just worked up an appetite. And I need you to put me down now. My legs are cramping."
And this man, with his sudden shifts of mood that Jackal was entirely used to, was the only comfort of home Jackal really needed in all of their very comfortable apartment.