[FB] A Little Stress Relief - chapter 8

[meiface.livejournal.com]

[A Little Stress Relief]
[A Kyo/Yuki Fruits Basket fic]
[R to NC-17]
[Table of Contents]

Warnings: boy x boy, explicit content, incest (of a sort)
Disclaimer: I don't own and never will own the rights to Fruits Basket; I write not for profit but only to entertain my personal muses.
Notes: Previously posted on Fanfiction.net, but it was removed due to content. Also seen at Kyouke. If you wish to archive, feel free. Just let me know. :D

Feedback = love~



A LITTLE STRESS RELIEF
by Ryuuza/meitachi

/ chapter 8 kimi o miteta /

Yuki was spending a lot of time thinking the same thoughts over and over again.

It’s just stress relief…isn’t it?

What would you do if it wasn’t?

Could I really be feeling anything for that baka neko?

…it’s just stress relief.

I think.

He rested against the soft green grass and tried not to let the familiar words run through his head again. They echoed and faded away, only to come resonating again a few minutes later, persistent. He was feeling the beginnings of a headache.

The breeze was warm and felt good against his face; fresh, unlike the staleness of his repetitive thoughts. The sky hung, fragile and heavy with white clouds, above his head, teasing him with the stretch of blue and white.

So simple, he thought. Clean. There was no worry or angst or what-am-I-supposed-to-do-now in that sky.

He sat a little ways away from the group distributed around the blanket spread under the tree. There were actually two blankets, one being too small for the large group of Soumas and friends that Tohru had invited to the picnic. Yuki could hear the murmurs of conversations and Momiji’s loud chatter, punctuated sporadically by Kisa’s delighted laughter as she and Hiro flew a kite nearby, further from the trees.

Kyou was over there too, he knew, leaning against the trunk and being sullen, because he wasn’t the considerate type who’d mask his feelings for the sake of being polite.

Yuki admired that about him, sometimes. How he could be so honest.

But then, other times, he just wanted to hit the damned cat.

He didn’t know what he wanted now, though, sitting apart from the happy group and contemplating the air and hoping his relatives would recognize the don’t-bother-me aura around him and heed it. He was this way a lot, after all. They’d probably gotten used to it. And a reassuring smile for Tohru was enough to keep her happy and at a distance; and if Tohru was okay with it, Arisa-san and Saki-san wouldn’t bring up the matter either.

He felt strangely calm, outwardly, even as his thoughts crested and broke against familiar shores in his mind.

Could I really be feeling something for Kyou?

Impulsively, he lay down on his back in the grass, feeling individual blades tickle for a moment before settling. His hair fell to the side and he breathed in the mixed fragrance of fresh grass and homemade food. He stared at the sky and tried not to think, willing away a picture of crimson eyes.

--

He didn’t know how long he lain there like that before Kyou came over and kicked him lightly in the ankle.

Yuki blinked lazily up at him.

“They went to fly kites and row boats in the lake,” Kyou said in response to his unvoiced question. He scowled. “Tohru sent me over here.” He flopped down on the grass, elbows resting on his knees as he looked down at Yuki. “I think she wants us to be friends again,” he said at last.

“We were never friends,” was Yuki’s reply.

The redhead studied the ground, plucking a blade of grass and twirling it between his fingers. “We were, once,” he said gruffly.

Yuki was silent, watching him. “She wants us to try the whole ‘getting along’ thing again, is that it?”

“That’s what I said.”

They looked at each other for a moment, a pale-haired boy sprawled in the grass, ever calm and unreadable, and a red-haired boy sitting beside him, knees propped up and eyes defensive. Cousins, rivals, lovers, friends…?

Yuki raised a hand and stretched it toward Kyou.

“Don’t touch me,” the cat snapped.

Yuki wrapped his fingers around Kyou’s wrist anyway, and jerked, pulling him down until he was sprawled beside Yuki.

“GAH.” Crimson eyes flared in anger. “You—“

“I hate you,” Yuki whispered, closing his eyes and turning his head toward the sky again. He let his hand fall back onto the grass. “Do you hate me too?”

There was a moment of confused sputtering, and then the expected answer, “Fuck yes!”

He could tell there would be a following rant, so instead he lifted his hand again and slid it over the other boy’s stomach, warm and familiar and enough to halt any words about to leave that cursed mouth. Yuki smiled to himself, eyes still closed, as he slid his hand carefully southward, and then dipped beneath Kyou’s shirt and lingered on the warm skin.

Kyou made an incoherent sort of noise. Indignant.

There was a deep, indrawn breath, and Yuki felt the muscles beneath his fingertips quivering. Then a sharp, “What the hell are you doing, nezumi?!”

What would you do if there was more?

Yuki opened his eyes. “What would you do if I kissed you, Kyou?” he asked, looking straight at the other boy.

Kyou’s eyes widened then narrowed. “I’d punch your face in, asshole,” he spat out. He flung Yuki’s hand off of him and struggled into a sitting position. Red locks stuck out in various directions, a disheveled fire against the bright sky. He opened his mouth to further his threat and—

—Yuki sat up swiftly and planted a kiss on that open mouth, swiping his tongue in and out suggestively, then just as swiftly pulled back. His gaze met Kyou’s head-on. “It’s just stress relief, isn’t it?” he asked, voice low and eyes shadowed.

Frozen, the other boy only stared at him, mouth still wet from the brief kiss.

Yuki rose to his feet, brushing stray blades of grass off his pants. He looked in the direction of the kites, only dimly thankful that no one had witnessed their little interaction. “I’m going to take a boat,” he said crisply to an unresponsive Kyou, heading off at a brisk pace toward the lake.

Part of him wondered why he had done what he did, since it only served to heighten his confusion about the whole situation.

The other part of him was wondering what Kyou was thinking as he sat, still frozen and wide-eyed and stunned.

…and that, really, was why he’d done it, wasn’t it?

--

Left alone, Kyou rolled over and buried his face in his arms. Stupid rat. What was he doing anyway? Touching him in public. Kissing him, no less. Making him think. Saying things like “we were never friends.”

Kyou hissed and lifted his head, propping his chin in his hands.

“We were never friends.”

They were, once, as he’d said. A long time ago when they were too young to know better, before Kyou had been shunned and Yuki had been favored. Before the shame and the anger and the rivalry.

It bothered him that Yuki could forget so easily—that he was willing to forget—and it was as if that time had never existed for the rat.

Kyou had envied him even back then.

It had been born from his exile and excommunication. He had hurt, watching the pretty young boy who’d been his friend surrounded by loving hands and warm smiles and endless compliments. Even Akito’s favoritism signified to Kyou only an acceptance that he was denied.

He wondered if things would’ve been different if he and Yuki had stayed friends instead of drifting (no, not drifting, but actively turning away) from each other. Would they still be where they were now? Would they still be using each other for stress relief—and then only physically and with a careful omitting of the exchange of emotions? Though even that was slipping now…changing.

Kyou let out an annoyed sigh and ran his fingers through the blades of grass.

There was no point in speculating. He and Yuki could never have stayed friends. And it was unlikely that they’d ever be friends again.

Even if it weren’t for this whole “I hate that damned cat/rat” thing they had going on, there would still be the obstacle of Akito. He was unlikely to ever promote a relationship of any kind between the “wretched cat” and his precious Yuki.

Kyou wondered if Akito knew about his and Yuki’s current “arrangement.” It had been going on for a few months now, after all. It was quite probable that Akito had noticed something. But if he had, nothing had been said or done as of yet. Kyou was left uncomfortable, unsure, and in the dark.

But Kami, he certainly hoped that Akito didn’t have any inkling. It was bad enough that Shigure knew, and now, evidently thanks to the inability of that idiot to keep his mouth shut, Hatsuharu and Momiji as well. (The latter who’d taken it upon himself to greet them earlier that day with a bright and outrageously loud, “So who’s on top, Kyooouuu-kun?” though he’d earned a knock over the head for that.) And, shudder, Ayame probably knew too, and Hatori as well, because he rarely was left unaware of things if the dog and snake both knew. Kyou suspected many other of the Soumas (if not all by now, damn Shigure’s interminable chatter) knew as well but just hadn’t bothered saying anything. Tohru, at least, seemed oblivious as usual, thank the gods.

It was so mortifying, knowing that these people knew what you did in your spare time and to whom.

Unnerving as hell.

Kyou clenched his fists and pulled at the unsuspecting grass.

It was worse than when people had found out about his hideous form…

He glared at his bracelet, dappled with sunlight and shadows that shifted with the wind through the leaves of the tree overhead. White and black, yin and yang, forever opposite—symbolizing how he would never belong.

There was the same kind of talk now as there was then…but a little different. The other had, at least, been spoken in hushed tones, accompanied with wide-eyed stares that would sweep away hurriedly as the voices halted whenever he came within hearing distance. Now, though, now the whispers didn’t stop when he was nearby, and were accompanied by smirks, winks, and taunts.

The other way may have left him lonely, but Kyou had grown used to it now, and being surrounded by people who smiled knowingly and laded every gesture and word with hidden meanings was far worse than being by himself. It got too complicated.

Kyou wished things were simple again.

He would fuck Yuki, Yuki would look at him with those hazy, unfocused, and strangely vulnerable eyes (for once not in control), and all they did was feel and touch and touch and feel and breathe and be.

And when it was over they’d go their separate ways.

There would be none of this “what would you do” or “we were never friends” or jealousy or possessiveness or uncertainty or embarrassment. Just hate and lust and relief.

There had to be some way to get it back to the way it used to be, though Kyou desperately with increasing agitation. He sat up, fingers still tangled in the grass. Some way to end this spiral of confusion that left him lost, dizzy, and slightly breathless, and put things back how they were.

He searched out Yuki’s figure, small in the distance, outlined against the brilliant silver of the sunlit lake. He felt a twinge as he remembered those hands on him, and he with his mouth over that skin, and a stirring of something when he saw those violet eyes light up at school, talking to a faceless someone.

Kyou bit his lip.

He was territorial, yes. He was willing to admit that.

And he might even be willing to admit that he didn’t like the thought of sharing the rat. Kyou may not have liked him but that didn’t mean he wanted someone else to be all over the pale skin he’d marked repeatedly as his own.

But Kyou refused to consider what this all meant.

He rose to his feet and headed toward the grassy field where a few of his younger cousins were flying kites. He still didn’t like things the way they were. Something had to change.

But damned if it would be him.

--

“Yuki-kun!”

Yuki smiled as Tohru ran up to him, her sandals kicking up sand. “Did you go on the lake,” she asked breathless and smiling. “It was so much fun! Uo-chan and Hana-chan took me on the boat—it was my first time,” she confessed, bright-eyed.

“I’m glad you had fun,” he replied. “The boats were all out so I didn’t have a chance to go yet.”

She looked distressed. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Yuki-kun! If I’d known you were waiting, I would’ve come back a lot sooner so you could use our boat!”

“It’s not your fault, Honda-san.” He spent the next few moments reassuring her and coaxing back her smile, until the worry lines faded from her brows and she relaxed, happy again.

“Okay, then.” She beamed up at him. “Ayame-san and Shigure-san and Hatori-san are still out in their boats, I think, and Momiji-kun is with them. Uo-chan and Hana-chan went to get drinks. Do you want to go on a boat now or do you want to do something else?”

Yuki glanced out over the lake and watched his idiotic brother and equally idiotic guardian attempt to push each other off the boat. His gaze swept over the park to the grassy area where Kisa and Hiro and some other local children were flying kites. Standing nearby, watching, was Kyou. And beside him, Hanajima. Touching his arm.

Violet eyes narrowed.

Saki-san was not a touchy-feely person.

So why did she feel it necessary to maintain bodily contact with the redhead?

And why was that dumbass allowing it?

“Oh! We can go fly kites! I haven’t done that since I was little!” Tohru flashed another bright, eager smile at him and boldly took his hand in her excitement, pulling him toward the others.

Yuki let her.

He had some questions he wanted to ask that baka neko anyway.

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Chapter title translates to "I looked at you."