Still Raining

Still Raining
Sequel to: On the Street of Dreams
Written by: chochowilliams
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Summary: Ayaka is used to getting what she wants and what she wants now is Eiri. She’ll do whatever it takes to make him hers. Anything.
Chapter Summary: The results are known.
Warning: fantasy, angst, drama, romance, m-preg, language, M/M, hentai, Ryuichi/Tatsuha, Eiri/Shuichi
Inserts: --
A/N: Here is part two of the results. FINALLY! I would like to thank kaname-luvr, RRW, Selina, fan girl 666, ferler, Namikaze naruko14, sarah83654123, DarkestFlameUchiha for their reviews. Now without further ado, enjoy!

-- 22 --22 -- 22 -- 22 --

Last Time

Little Takanori stared at her silently for a moment before replying shyly, “Hi.” After which, the two year old wrapped his arms around Shuichi’s neck and buried his face in Shuichi’s shoulder.

Definitely did not get that from Shuichi, Eiri thought. Shuichi was anything but shy. He chuckled deeply.

Shuichi tossed him a glance over his shoulder. The look said everything.

Suddenly it was a lot warmer in the office.

Clearing his throat, Eiri stepped forward, wrapped an arm possessively around Shuichi’s waist and prodded the cooing woman. “Tohma is…?”

“Expecting you,” Nana replied. “Go right in.”

“Thank you,” Shuichi grinned.

Eiri nodded.

They skirted the secretary’s desk towards the door that lead into Tohma’s office. Eiri rounded his husband and reached for the doorknob. He gave it a sharp twist, pushed open the door and stepped inside.

An explosion of sound greeted them.

-- 22 --22 -- 22 -- 22 --


Chapter 22: Who Knew? Who Guessed? Who Cares? Who’s Pissed?

An Hour Later - Executive Offices - NG Productions - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan

His patience was waning. Quickly. Not as if he had any to spare in the first place. He’d always been a little on the impatient side. There’d always been a bit of an anger issue as well. But, really, didn’t one go hand in hand with the other anyway? He wasn’t certain if that was the case, but it was for him, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that the longer they dawdled here like a bunch of useless lumps, the thinner his patience became, the more irritated he was and the closer he came to snapping.

For what seemed like the millionth time in only the last five seconds, Eiri glanced at the clock on the wall. How much longer where they going to wait? He was going stir crazy. No, scratch that. He was slowly losing his mind. If he would have known that they would have to wait for Kizou to arrive, he would not have rushed over here so damn quickly. He could have remained back at home working on his manuscript for a little while longer. What an absolute waste of time this was.

He frowned at the clock. The damn contraption was broken. It had to be. There was no other explanation. Otherwise, how else would you explain the fact that every time he peered at it, it showed the same time? It was a conspiracy. He swore it was. It wasn’t enough that his own husband and child were trying to slowly drive him insane, but now his brother-in-law was in on it too.

Perfect.

A pair of smiling emerald green eyes met his over the desk. He scowled back. “What?” he snapped.

“Nervous, Eiri-kun?” Tohma inquired, leaning forward and resting his chin on his laced fingers.

“No,” he answered curtly.

Tohma regarded him with a cocked eyebrow, perfectly manicured of course.

Eiri stilled his bouncing knee, grumbling about stupid, nosey brother-in-laws.

Ignoring the amused look on his brother-in-law’s face and that damnedable twinkle in his eyes that said he clearly thought he was an omnipotent being, Eiri glanced over his shoulder at the mayhem that was ensuing behind him.

Other than Tohma, who was sitting behind his desk like a king on his throne overlooking his subjects, Shuichi and little Takanori, there was also Ryuichi and Tatsuha. It was quite the surprise to realize that his brother and his brother-in-law- or would that be father-in law?- had been invited to the big reveal.

He wasn’t angry that Tohma would go behind his back and inform others besides those not directly involved. Maybe a bit miffed that it was done without his knowledge or consent, but he wasn‘t mad. After all, Tatsuha and Ryuichi have a right to know just as much as he and Shuichi. This affected them as well, but this was a private moment. Family or not, there were some things that did not require an audience. If they’d wanted spectators, they would have agreed to go on one of the dozens of talk shows and nightly news programs that have had their phone ringing off the hook all goddamn weekend.

“Here.”

At a small sitting area, his son was kneeling at a long rectangular glass coffee table coloring with his uncle Ryuichi- or was that Grandfather?- and Uncle Tatsuha in a rather large coloring book amidst a sea of crayons, markers and colored pencils. A two year old and an expensive leather sofa. Not a good mix. Tohma did not seem overtly concerned though, so who was he to care? Not his furniture. Not his problem.

The coloring book was a clown coloring book thank you very much. Uncle Tohma bought it just for him.

“For my favorite nephew,” Tohma’d said when he’d handed the present to the toddler.

“You’re only nephew,” Eiri reminded him.

The kid was so spoiled. It didn’t come as any surprise, though, what with little Takanori being the only child in the family. So far, Eiri added. Not only were he and Shuichi expecting twins in a measly twenty-eight weeks- he couldn’t decide whether to strut around with his head held high and his chest out as of he were a peacock trying to impress his potential mate or strap himself in a straitjacket and confined to a padded cell- but Maiko was due to deliver a healthy baby boy in just over a month- by all that was holy was it only a month away?- and Tohma and Mika were actively trying to have a baby.

His older sister and her husband have been trying for years to start their own family, but with little success.

At one point Mika believed she was pregnant, or so said the home pregnancy test she took, but her OB/GYN a couple of weeks later claimed she wasn’t. False positive was what they called it. Had that really been the case though? Eiri had to wonder about that.

From the copious amounts of research he’d done when he found out the boy he was beginning to fall in love with was pregnant, thus making him a neutral, and by a previous lover, he’d learned that it’s quite common for pregnancies to end in miscarriages before the pregnancy was even known. Could this be the reasoning behind his sister’s “false positive” pregnancy? It beat the alternative.

Because of the difficulty they were having conceiving, both Tohma as well as Mika underwent testing to determine whether there could be anything preventing them from becoming pregnant, such as scar tissue or low sperm count- as was the case for Kizou apparently- but all the tests came back negative. There was nothing, at least from the medical doctor’s point of view, stopping them from becoming pregnant.

“It could be psychological,” was what the doctors suggested.

If there was anyone who had any sort of inkling as to what Kizou was currently experiencing, it would have to be his sister and her husband.

Little Takanori handed his uncle Tatsuha the blue crayon he’d been using.

“Oh, thank you,” Tatsuha said. He now had a pile of crayons besides the page that his nephew had torn out for him.

Eiri chuckled.

His son reached for another crayon, this time red, and turned back to the coloring book.

“That’s very pretty,” Ryuichi said to the toddler.

“Thank you.” This was said without a blush or hesitation.

Oh so modest his son, he thought with a snort.

As for his husband, the singer had gone to the bathroom. Thankfully, it wasn’t at that stage where Shuichi was racing off to the lavatory every five seconds. Yet. It was only a matter of time though. Add a rollercoaster of emotions and cravings that would make other expectant mothers nauseous and he’d be lucky to make it through the next twenty-eight weeks without whiplash.

Almost as if it were against his will, Eiri found his gaze traveling yet again to the clock.

For someone who was “just going to the bathroom”, Shuichi has been gone for quite some time. Eiri snorted. What was he saying? This was Shuichi. He probably got lost, fell in the toilet or decided to take a little detour, which would explain why he’d wanted to use a bathrooms on a different floor rather than Tohma’s private en suite bathroom.

Baka.

Just this once he’d indulge his husband.

Besides, the reprieve Shuichi’s momentary absence was giving him was a welcome distraction and not from Shuichi’s idiocy either. From the moment they stepped into the office, Ryuichi has been throwing Shuichi these glances periodically. From the expression on the older man’s face when he watched Shuichi, it was evident Ryuichi was torn and it did not take a genius to figure out what the man was torn over either.

As well he should be, Eiri thought with a flair of anger.

But as glad as he was that Ryuichi remembered their little conversation and was even now in the process of trying to psych himself up enough to man up to his own idiocy, this was not the time. Given the topic of their future discussion, Eiri wasn’t sure if the time would ever be right.

-- 22 --22 -- 22 -- 22 --

Ryuichi sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Setting the brown crayon aside that he’d been using to color in the trunk of the tree in the page his grandson had torn out of his coloring book, he sat back and glanced over his shoulder at the clock.

He always knew that eventually he would have to tell Shuichi the truth, though if he wanted to be honest with himself, there was a small part of him that didn’t want to. Wouldn’t his son be better off not knowing?

He has a right to know, argues a voice in the back of his mind that sounded vaguely like Eiri.

Of course he does, he argued back.

Still…!

Would it be worth it? Would emptying his closet of all its skeletons be worth all the pain and earth shattering consequences?

What was better: a comfortable lie or the distressing truth?

It was selfish yes, but Ryuichi was terrified that once the truth was out there, his relationship with Shuichi would change. Nothing would be the same afterwards. How could they be? He could only hope that one day Shuichi would forgive him and that he wouldn’t be stopped from seeing his grandson.

“Ryu?” called the soft voice.

Ryuichi blinked back the threatening sting of tears and cleared his throat of a mysterious lump before he acknowledged his husband. He smiled at the concerned expression. “Hm?”

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he assured the younger man. More or less, he added. After all, it wasn’t everyday that a man had to tell his little brother that they were actually father and son.

Knowing what he had to do was not making knowing that he had to do it any easier.

-- 22 --22 -- 22 -- 22 --

Shuichi would not go so far as to claim it was better than an orgasm, but it was pretty darn close.

Once they discovered he was pregnant, Eiri had forbidden him from indulging in many of his heavenly-turned-sinful delights. Even though they’d technically been separated at the time, it hadn’t stopped them from acting like a couple of teenagers experiencing- hence the pregnancy- and it certainly hadn’t stopped Eiri from turning into Mr. Dictator either.

Fun times.

But that was why he’d used the bathroom ruse. How could he let the opportunity to sneak away from Mr. You’ll-Have-Nothing-But-Rabbit-Food-For-Forty-Weeks-Because-I’ll-Be-Damned-If-I-Let-You-Pollute-My-Child-With-Crap for a couple of minutes pass him by? This was his chance to have whatever he wanted without Eiri breathing down his neck.

The hardest part of having some measure of independence is self-control and as anyone could attest to, he had absolutely none. Meaning, of course, that as soon as he stepped into the cafeteria, he’d wanted one of everything. Pizza. Subs. Chicken wings. Buffalo wings. Chicken fingers. Chicken fries. Chicken bites, otherwise as “boneless chicken wings” apparently. Mozzarella sticks. Pizza logs. Tacos. Chinese. Tai. Vietnamese. Japanese. Pasta. Parfaits. Salads. There was just too much to choose from. If he would have listened to the little Eiri inside his head, he would have steered clear of everything and gone straight for the fruit, but of course he ignored the little party pooper and decided, after much deliberation, to get some ice cream and not that frozen yogurt crap either. Real ice cream.

By the time he paid for the frozen treat and made his way through the cafeteria- stopping several times to speak with various NG employees as well as fellow musicians- to the elevators, he’d devoured the ice cream sandwich, liked his fingers clean and was seriously contemplating going back to buy another. In the end, he decided not to, mostly because he’d already been gone for a while and if he did not get back soon, Eiri would hunt him down. That would not be a good thing, especially seeing he’s been cheating on his diet.

“Stupid Eiri and his stupid rules,” he grumbled.

Standing before the elevator bank, Shuichi pressed the call button. Instead of lighting up, the doors slide open with a ping. A familiar voice called out as he stepped inside the cab.

“Hold the elevator please!”

Shuichi pressed and held the “open” button on the panel. He watched as a tall blond haired man followed closely by a second male who had the appearance of someone who could juggle a city bus or two without breaking a sweat raced into the elevator. Once both men were safely in the elevator and clear of the doors, he let go of the “open” button and watched as the doors slid shut. He noticed the second male had taken up position right before the elevator doors.

“44 please,” rumbled the deep voice behind him.

“Gotcha.” Shuichi started to nod, his finger reaching for the number “44”, but froze even as he pressed the button, which lit up. That voice! Was it…? His eyes wide, Shuichi whipped around. “Kizou,” he cried out happily.

A wide grin poured across the Japanese-French Yakuza boss’s face. “Shuichi! Hey!” Kizou enveloped Shuichi in a hug.

Yutoshi, the muscle bound shadow and bodyguard, spared a moment to glare at Shuichi over his boss’s shoulder.

Shuichi stuck his tongue out at him. It was a childish move to be sure, but one he could not stop from doing. It was a reflex. Yutoshi had a tendency to bring out the best in people, especially if he did not like them very much. Shuichi definitely qualified as one of those people. In fact, if he was not mistaken, he was on the very top of Yutoshi’s very long list. Yutoshi just did not like him. It was that simple.

“Shuichi,” Kizou scolded lightly. He did not have to have eyes in the back of his head to know the rivalry had begun. It was a good thing Yutoshi hadn’t been at the house last week when Shuichi stopped by.

“I didn’t do it,” Shuichi said automatically, freeing himself from his ex-lover.

Kizou gave him a look.

Shuichi wilted under that look. It was the same one Eiri always gave him. “Hey, he started it,” he argued, pointing to the gorilla of a man.

Yutoshi said nothing, just gave Shuichi a not so flattering once over before returning to guard hiss boss from the closed elevator door.

A light growl rumbled in Shuichi’s throat.

Kizou heaved a heavy sigh. “Honestly, you’re like children.”

“Am not!”

Yutoshi snorted.

Something inside Shuichi snapped. “What was that ape face?”

And it begins, Kizou thought with a heavy sigh.

-- 22 --22 -- 22 -- 22 --

The ride to the top floor where Tohma’s office was located was a long, silent journey. The tense air in the cramped car made what was usually a two or three minute ride- depending on how many times the elevator needed to stop to pick up and or drop off passengers- seem twice as long. It reminded Kizou sharply off a bridge near his childhood home in France that he used to cross on an almost daily basis. He remembered thinking that the bridge seemed to stretch for miles, even though in actuality it was only several hundred feet long. Crossing it seemed to take forever. It went on and on and on and on. It was like a nightmare where you’re running from some unknown entity. The harder you run, the faster you get nowhere. He’d hated that bridge as a child, but when his parents announced after his little brother was killed that they were moving to Japan, he’d mourned the loss of that bridge. Strange how that happens.

He kept trying to distract Shuichi away from the blatant animosity he felt towards Yutoshi, to make the ride easier for everybody- for himself especially- but it didn’t work. The phrase “if looks could kill” seemed very appropriate.

They’d never liked one another, Yutoshi and Shuichi. Never. Yutoshi, he could remember, hadn’t had a problem with that first initial introduction in the bathroom of some dive all those years ago. It was everything that transpired afterwards that Yutoshi’d had a problem with. He never did get a satisfactory answer about this dislike Yutoshi and Shuichi felt for one another. Apparently, Shuichi hated Yutoshi because Yutoshi hated him. Yutoshi hated Shuichi…Well, who knows why. Frankly, he could care less. As long as Yutoshi realized that despite the hatred he felt towards Shuichi, Shuichi from here on out- if the results of the paternity test came back stating he was indeed the biological father of little Takanori Uesugi- was going to remain part of his life.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and wished he were back home in bed. To think it was only midday.

“Thank God,” he muttered gratefully as the elevator lurched to a stop on the top floor of the modern glass and metal NG Productions building in the heart of downtown Chiyoda-ku.

Shuichi, impatient to leave the crowded car and the annoying bodyguard far behind before he caught gorilla-itis, stepped forward, but a large hairy arm impeded his movements. “What’s your problem?” he snapped angrily over the loud ping. A hand landed on his shoulder. He started at the touch. He glanced over his shoulder at its owner.

“Let him do his job,” Kizou told the younger man.

Shuichi opened his mouth to argue. “But-”

Kizou merely shook his head.

Beyond irritated now, Shuichi crossed his arms over his chest and huffed in annoyance. It was nothing personal against bodyguards, but it was personal against this bodyguard in particular. Bastard.

Yutoshi stepped out of the elevator and glanced up and down the hall.

His impatience growing, Shuichi waited for the empty corridor- that could not be more than several dozen meters long at most and had only the only door at the far end- to be swept and cleared. It seemed to take longer than it should. Knowing Yutoshi, the man was probably taking extra long just to annoy Shuichi. It was working.

Shuichi had to press the “open” button several times before Yutoshi was satisfied the coast was clear.

Rolling his eyes, Shuichi strode out of the elevator and marched down the hall towards Tohma’s office, brushing by Kizou and his shadow none too gently.

Sighing, Kizou followed the angry singer at a more leisurely pace. He spared a glance for Yutoshi whose expression did not change.

Shuichi was…He did not want to say Shuichi was hard to deal with under normal circumstances, but it was a pretty close assessment, but now that Shuichi was pregnant, dealing with his already overly emotional state was near to impossible and to have Yutoshi deliberately rile Shuichi up was not helping matters. He did not envy Mr. Uesugi in the least.

At the sound of a door slamming, Kizou pried his attention from the wall art he had been making a pretense of examining, pretense because he had not taken in anything, and glanced up the hall. It was empty except for himself and Yutoshi.

This was going to be a long day, he decided.

Outside that same door Shuichi had vanished into, Yutoshi remained.

“Mr. Kizou?” asked a young woman as he entered.

“Yes,” he confirmed as he shut the door behind him.

The woman smiled warmly at him. “Go right in, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Crossing the small reception area to the only other door, which had been left ajar, Kizou slipped inside a large modern office. The far wall was not a wall at all, but floor to ceiling windows overlooking the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. The NG Production record company building was by far the tallest in the surrounding area. It made for a breath taking view. Glass shelving units filled with awards and plagues stretched the entirety of the left hand wall, marred only by a door. Behind the door he had entered through was a small row of file cabinets. A sitting area, occupied by two men and his-hopefully- son, took up the right hand wall.

As he entered, all eyes were on him. All conversation came to a halt.

In chairs before a U-shaped desk that looked as if it cost ten times more than he’d paid for his sat Shuichi and besides him Mr. Eiri Yuki. There was an empty chair besides the writer. It appeared as if Shuichi had not yet cooled down, if the look the singer was giving him was any indication. Looks like he was going to have to have a serious conversation with Yutoshi later.

“Where’s the moron?” Shuichi demanded.

“Shu,” sighed a resigned looked Eiri.

Shuichi ignored his husband.

Guessing by “moron”, Shuichi was referring to Yutoshi, Kizou answered, “Out in the hall.”

“Good.” The less he had to interact with that…that…sorry excuse for a human being the better. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned away from the Yakuza boss with a childish humph.

The struggled to keep from snapping at his husband was great. Eiri felt his eye twitching.

Kizou let his gaze sweep around the office once again.

The toddler that might just be his son appeared to be deeply engrossed in what he was doing, so engrossed that he hadn’t even realized someone new had arrived. One of the men with his son he recognized instantly as Ryuichi Sakuma, Shuichi’s older brother if he wasn‘t mistaken. While he was not a fan, some of the younger Dragons were, especially Narata. The other man he did not know, though given the remarkable appearance to Eiri Yuki, it was a safe bet the two were brothers, possibly even twins.

Then there was a small blond man who rose from behind the large, expensive desk. “Ah! Mr. Kizou.”

Kizou recognized him as well. “Mr. Seguchi.” He strode farther into the room and shook the man’s hand.

Little Takanori’s head snapped up and around at the voice. A grin spread across his face. It was that man! Now they could play and maybe even have some of that yummy drink that tickled his nose.

Jumping to his feet, he raced towards the man.

“Well, now-” Tohma’s announcement was cut short by the appearance of his nephew was who launched himself at the new arrival with such gusto that he nearly knocked the poor man off his feet.

Eiri chuckled. Definitely his mother’s son.

Shuichi gasped. “Takanori!”

Little Takanori was oblivious to everything but the man to whose leg he was clamped around. “Hi!”

Kizou chuckled. “Hi there.”

“Do you wanna play?”

“Well…” Kizou glanced around for some support.

“Takanori, sweetie,” Shuichi was saying. He scooted to the edge of the chair and bending over, clasped his hands between his knees. “Not now okay?”

Little Takanori pouted. He stomped his foot and crossed his arms over his chest. “I wanna play now!”

Images of Shuichi flashed through Eiri’s head. He exchanged a knowing look with Ryuichi, who was chuckling lightly.

Kizou squatted down before the two year old. “Hey, I have an idea.” His hazel eyes as golden as a pile of gold twinkled. “Why don’t you go see if you can get Uncle Ryuichi to buy you some Ramuné? Remember? It’s that drink we had the other day with the marble and the bubbles that tickled your nose?” He wrinkled his nose for emphasis.

“I ‘member! I like that drink!”

“Me, too,” Kizou whispered. “And afterwards we can play okay?”

Grinning, little Takanori raced back to the sitting area and started hopping around Ryuichi excitedly. “Can we get some ‘uné?”

Eiri’s eye twitched.

“Of course,” Ryuichi complied easily.

Making sure he had his wallet, Ryuichi stood from the couch and holding out his hand, escorted his grandson from the office and down the hall to the elevators, all the while listening to the toddler ramble a million miles an hour about something that Ryuichi could not quite understand.

“Well, as I was saying,” Tohma restarted, “now that we’re all here, shall we get started?” His eye scanned the others.

Suddenly, there was a swarm of elephants doing the samba in Kizou’s stomach. Feeling more nervous that he could remember ever being before in his life, he carefully lowered himself into a chair besides Eiri. He caught Shuichi’s eye. The younger man grinned. Guess he was forgiven. Some of the nervousness melted away.

As Tohma retook his seat, he glanced passed his guests to the man sitting in the shadows of the office door. “Mr. Iba? If you’d do the honors?”

“Of course.”

As one, they all turned and watched as a man whom Kizou was assuming was this Mr. Iba strode forward. There was a large business envelope in his hands.

The results. The results were in that envelope.

This was it. Oh, God. This was it. In a matter of seconds, they would all know. Was he or wasn’t he?

His heart was hammering so loudly within his chest, it was a wonder nobody called him on it. The elephants were now performing a dizzying waltz. It was making his stomach churn.

“Everyone, this is Takashi Iba from the DNA Diagnostic Center,” Tohma introduced. “He personally ran the test.”

A low murmuring met this announcement.

Suddenly feeling lightheaded, as if he were on the verge of passing out, Kizou watched as the business envelope was opened and a single sheet of paper was slid out. His palms grew slick with sweat.

Was it too late to change his mind?

The tension within the office was almost painful.

Tohma noticed that Eiri’s knee was bouncing again. This time faster. It was moving at warp speed. The smaller hand clenched within his was white knuckled. He followed the arm that the hand belonged to and noticed that Shuichi looked like he was on the verge of being sick.

Takashi Iba cleared his throat. “With a 99.995 percent probability...” He paused.

Whether for dramatic purposes, as if he had some misguided notion of this being a program on television, or maybe he was feeling just as nervous as the rest of them, Kizou was not sure, but he was sure he wasn’t the only one who wanted to cry out, “Get on with it man!” Maybe a swift kick up the ass would help this man to get a move on.

“…Rique Kizou is…” Takashi Iba lifted his gaze from the paper in his hands and sought out the man in question. “…the father of one Takanori Eiri Uesugi.” Or so he tried to say. He hadn’t even gotten passed “father” before the cheering began. It wasn’t even cheering. It was more like a roar of sound.

Shuichi was up and out of his chair before the sentence was even half out of the man’s mouth. Laughing and crying at the same time, he flung himself at Eiri and then at Kizou.

“Congratulations Mr. Kizou,” Tatsuha shouted above the noise from his seat on the couch.

Kizou was stunned to say the least. He had a son? He’d heard the words, but it was as if they’d been spoken in a foreign language that he did not know or understand.

“Congratulations,” rumbled a voice.

He had a son.

Still in shock, Kizou went to open his mouth, but nothing came out but a squeak, so he nodded.

He freaking had a son!

The first tear slid down his face. He was never a religious man before, but now he was certain. There had to be a God because this was nothing short of a miracle.

---TBC---

A/N: if there are any mistakes, pls let me know.

You have NO idea how difficult it was to write that final scene! UGH! That’s why it took so long for it to get out. The next chapter is almost finished. Hopefully I can have it out by next week. No promises though. In the meantime…

REVIEW!