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(actors) joe flanigan - blue

chiasmus in freezer_penguin

[old] from 9/2007 o_o;

SO I FOUND THIS IN MY DRAFTS OF GMAIL. I apparently finished it, then never did anything with it. I want to get it out of the damn folder, but I didn't want to delete it, so I am posting it here. (My Google Documents is another nightmare...). This is from way back when I was still writing the cyberpunk!tenipuri fic, haha.

... random AtoShishi for you?


The nicotine burned the back of his throat as he inhaled deeply, the end of the cigarette flaring orange before flaking off in gray fragments of ash. His lips were slightly parted as he exhaled a thin stream of smoke into the cold night air, high above the city. He had access to all the floors -- the roof was no exception. From here he could see the city sprawled out before him, a mass of concrete and steel, light and glass. It was all one interconnected network, entirely impersonal, a lot of fucking lines of data that he was becoming intimate with the more he worked with Ohtori. He preferred a more direct approach, but that only stretched so far.

Most of his hacks were specific to the software in a certain system; he could crack into the security and surveillance system no problem, but some of the database coding for the information shit gave him a headache to think about. That he mostly left up to Ohtori, but lately the kid - never mind that they were only separated by barely a couple years and several centimeters of height in Ohtori's favor - had become insistent that he pick up a few more things, and Shishido really couldn't blame him.

Things were going well. Which meant they were bound to hit a snag. He wasn't superstitious or pessimistic, but their plans were going without a hitch. That in and of itself was enough to raise suspicion. They were nearing the point when the ax was about to fall, and now it was a matter of figuring out if they were the ones wielding it or on the chopping block. At least that's how Hiyoshi had put it, and as much as the brat could get on his nerves he did have a point.

If he were working for any other company he probably would have already been sacked for snapping as often as he had. Hell, with some of the dark looks Atobe had cast his way lately, he sometimes suspected Ohtori was partially responsible for why he still kept his job now. It didn't always make a lot of sense why the kid stuck his neck out for him as much as he did, but he was grateful. He knew he sucked sometimes as a team player. This was the first time he had really managed to get along with anyone he was paired up with for missions; it helped that they had already been friends beforehand, however far that term extended. His loyalty extended to those who earned it. Up until this point he had worked solo as much as he could within reason, though ultimately he still answered to Atobe.

For now.

There wasn't much left for him to do at the moment, which he held largely responsible for his agitation. Now they were siting on their hands until the time was right, for the rest of the shit to be put together. The most he could do was make sure no one else fucked up, so many of his hours were spent tracking with Ohtori once his regular job hours were over. As it was the kid had already headed home for the night to catch a few hours sleep; he should have done the same but he couldn't find the motivation.

The wind whipped the hair around his face and he stubbed out his cigarette as it burned down to the filter. He flicked the end off, thumbing his lighter as he sat cross-legged a few feet from the edge. He shoved it into his pocket after a moment's consideration, leaning back, weight supported by palms pressed flat to the smooth surface. It was then he heard the door open.

"You're here late, Shishido."

He glanced over his shoulder, though he didn't really need to. Atobe stood a few feet away, arms folded across his chest. He looked about to leave, wrapped in a long overcoat. This was out of Atobe's way, and they both knew that, though neither bothered to comment upon the fact.

Instead Shishido shrugged. "Same to you."

"It makes more sense when I'm the last one to leave."

"Not really. You make enough, you could just hand off all the work to your underlings."

A knee nudged him in the back, none too gently. "There are some things only I am capable of dealing with."

Shishido snorted, shoving Atobe's leg back with his elbow. "Or at least that's what you like to think."

"This company is mine for a reason. You would do well to remember that."

"It's not really something I'm likely to forget."

"You'd never be able to tell from the way you act lately. Frankly, you've been quite a pain in the ass, even if you do continue to complete your work. Care to give me a reason why I should keep you around?"

This time he did look at Atobe as more than a passing glance. His lips were pressed in a thin line, his eyes hard and cold. He didn't really have a reason to give, though he knew Atobe wanted him to -- otherwise he would just fire him straight out and be done with it. There wasn't a lot he did in his nominal "research" job that he couldn't have easily done elsewhere if he only wanted to keep regular pay. It had just made it easier to coordinate assignments, but now that he had been taken completely out of the field a majority of the work he did with Ohtori could have as easily been done wherever he had access to a computer. He'd have to setup new security protocols, but that wasn't too hard.

Then he stopped himself from thinking like he was already gone. Atobe was still waiting for an answer, so he turned to aim thumb, forefinger, and middle at the other's head. "I could shoot you."

There was a long pause, then slowly Atobe smirked. "But I know you wouldn't."

"Don't tempt me."

"We're several hundred feet above ground. I could just push you off."

Shishido kept his gaze on Atobe. He could remember the days when they were still in school, and the world didn't really extend beyond classes and tennis. At least it hadn't for him, though he suspected otherwise for Atobe. He cocked a grin. "But I know you wouldn't."

A ghost of a smile touched Atobe's lips, though he didn't look any less exasperated by the answer he had received. "That aside," Atobe continued, "You're good at what you do -- you know that, I know that. But if you continue this idiotic sulking I'll have no choice but to get rid of you for the sake of appearance, if nothing else."

Therein was where one of the problems lay. The more he played them, the more he hated the games and deception. He knew it was all unavoidable, but it didn't make it any easier to choke down. He usually was good at at least keeping his mouth shut, but even he had a point that once passed there was no easy way to turn back. "I don't give a shit about appearances anymore."

"I know, but you used to. I didn't have to worry about you getting captured, killed, or otherwise jeopardizing everything. It was kind of nice."

Atobe's voice was more strained than Shishido was accustomed to. It gave him moment to pause, shoulders stiffening as he hunched over and zipped his jacket up the rest of the way. He wasn't about to leave yet - there was the rest of the night to get through - but it gave him something to do. "I hate just sitting around, not able to do anything. You should know that too."

"Must you make this so difficult?" There was the recoil. "If you would just follow orders and not be such a stubborn bastard --"

Shishido jumped to his feet and whirled around so he was facing Atobe. They were almost eye to eye, though the other had two centimeters on him that on the best days he didn't like to acknowledge. "I did what I thought was right. I wouldn't take it back even if I could."

"It wasn't a situation for you to make a moral call in. You fucked over the plan, and got lucky insofar as Ohtori being able to compensate for the time gap and Hiyoshi cleaning up. It's moments like that that make you too unpredictable to operate on your own anymore."

"Gakuto's just as bad, he's the one who goes off and nearly gets himself killed --"

"But even he listens. At least to Oshitari -- and Hiyoshi, when he has to. You on the other hand are too set in your own ways --"

"I'm not going to kill someone for no reason! Plans don't cover for every possible fucking outcome, and in that case there wasn't one damn thing to be gained or lost from elimination."

"You can't know that." The words had a forced steadiness that made Shishido ball his hands into fists. "It was an unnecessary risk that you shouldn't have taken, and as it is right now I'm not going to give you the chance to have a repeat of this pathetic moral dilemma of yours."

It flashed across his mind that this was a bad idea; Shishido unzipped his jacket, tossing it aside, and acted on the impulse anyway.

Atobe punched him back.

It was like the first time they met, though the years had made the hits faster and harder. When it came down to it, Atobe wasn't made to be a fighter, but he had no reservations about playing dirty. He kneed Atobe hard in the stomach, felt the other's head rest for a fraction of a second against his chest as Atobe took a ragged breathn before he noticed the shift in weight at his hip and in return felt the butt of his gun smack him hard across the cheek. He reeled a few steps back, which Atobe took as opportunity to press him back against the ledge of the roof. He felt the concrete barrier digging into the small of his back and the cool metal barrel shoved beneath his chin. Atobe's other hand held a fistful of his hair, yanking back and further exposing the line of his throat.

"Are you really so hell bent on getting yourself killed?"

Shishido's breath was erratic; he could taste blood and feel his palms being scraped as he held tight to the ledge to keep from losing his balance. His lips spread in a rictus of a smile, more baring his teeth than anything else. "Can't say it was in my game plan."

Atobe's grip tightened. "Good," he sneered, "Because I have better things to do than help you self-destruct."

The adrenaline hadn't left yet, but Shishido didn't feel quite as inclined to keep fighting Atobe. At least no more than usual, anyway. Neither seemed poised to move, though, each unwilling to back down first.

The next thing he knew they were kissing.

He wasn't sure who initiated it, but he thought Atobe had this time. He was at the disadvantageous position anyway, and his movement was limited. One of his hands left the ledge to grip the front of Atobe's coat and pull him closer. The fabric was soft and expensive, now probably going to end up stained with his blood. It wasn't the first time, though, and he knew that Atobe might bitch and moan later, but there wasn't ever any real weight behind the complaint. In response Atobe started to back up to give Shishido some room away from the edge, just enough so that his back wasn't pressed

The gun was still pressed uncomfortably against his throat, a solid weight keeping him in place though it was unnecessary at this point. Atobe's hand left his hair and slid down his back then around to the front, finding the hem of his shirt and snaking under to press flat against his abdomen. For a moment, the warm touch rested there, almost gentle, then Atobe hooked a finger in the waistband of his pants, pulling him back from the ledge. He stumbled a little, gripping tightly to Atobe as he regained his footing. The other had began work on unbuttoning his shirt, deft movements making easy work of it even when one-handed. Next the button of his pants, and the zipper.

Atobe's fingers slipped through the fabric of his boxers to wrap around his cock. The other pulled back to watch his reaction, expression smug; he was already hard, and bit down on his lip to keep from groaning. He glared wordlessly at Atobe, who kissed him again in response, demanding, though Shishido wasn't sure for what exactly other than the obvious. The barrel of the gun moved away from his throat and slid down his chest, finally coming to press hard against his stomach, eliciting a stifled gasp that Atobe swallowed greedily. The other's movement was too fucking slow, though he was already close. Atobe broke the kiss, increasing the rhythm as Shishido arched his hips, licking a line down Shishido's throat before finding his collarbone and biting down hard enough to bruise. That was enough. Head tilted back, Shishido called Atobe's name between broken breaths, eyes closed.

"I hate you," he whispered. It was true, as was the other force that was behind the words that he didn't dare acknowledge.

"So you're fond of telling me."

"Give me my gun back."

Atobe shrugged and handed it back, licking one finger before he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hands on. "If you're always that careless in fights, it's a good thing Hiyoshi has to babysit you."

Shishido re-holstered it and zipped his pants so they were hanging loosely on his hips. "Shut up."

"Make me."

Shishido leaned in and kissed him again, this time slower. One of Atobe's arms wrapped around his waist to keep him in place. He felt tired and drained, as though the past few weeks were suddenly rushing down with all their weight. For once he wrapped his arms around Atobe in return when he broke the kiss, forehead coming to rest against the other's shoulder. He felt Atobe go still and stiffen in surprise. This wasn't ground either of them were really familiar with, though it effectively stole words from both sides, even if it was just for a moment.

He could feel Atobe pull out the hair tie holding back his hair, fingers stroking through it as it fell around his shoulders. "You need to go home now, Ryou."

"I still have a few hours in me. There are still things for me to work on to get caught up to a decent level with Choutarou."

"Go. Home. One night won't kill you."

He thought of the one-room apartment he rented as more of a storage space than anything else. It was growing less appealing by the day, though there wasn't anywhere else he really wanted to go instead. Not that he would admit to that.

"You could always --"

"No. We tried that once, remember? Didn't work out."

"Only because you're always so determined on being difficult."

He stepped back, picked up his jacket and shrugged into it. He zipped it up, not bothering to button his shirt first. "It's part of my charm."

Before he could move to go back into the building Atobe grabbed his wrist, turning so that their gazes met. The other was scowling, whatever peace completely gone from the moment. "It's also what's going to get you killed."

He stared back at Atobe, defiant. He shouldn't give in, didn't want to even. His cheek hurt, and he knew that if he touched it he could already feel the bruise forming. It was pure luck that Atobe hadn't knocked loose any teeth.

He heard himself say, "All right. Tonight, but that's it."

Surprise chased by relief crossed Atobe's face, but it was masked quickly enough that Shishido wrote it off as a figment of his imagination. "Good. Let's go, Kabaji is waiting."

- Is this the face of domestic violence?

(does it even count if they're both doing it?)


August 2011

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