Hello,

I wrote this while I had a migraine (still do : /...) so I hope it makes sense and there aren't too many mistakes because I can barely see to check it!

I don't own the VF characters, OC's are mine, all mine...

Warnings: Swearing, Yaoi.

}xXx{

Asami looks yet again over his shoulder from where he's sat alone in the living room, on the phone with a contact in the U.S and chain smoking. Ashtray already heaving with cigarette butts and a fresh whisky to the side of him in a tumbler, the man having made his way through most of the bottle already. He knocks the ash and takes a deep drag, placing a thumb to his brow in irritation. Yep, everything is taking too damn long today.

"…Well, you heard wrong. Just give me their damned details already."

"Naa man I'm pretty sure I heard right, 'Asami Ryuichi the one and only, stepped down as resident kingpin of Japan and handed everything over to some small time crook out of Yokohama.' If that's not the case why have I already had a call from your former secretary on his behalf, huh?"

Asami damns Kirishima's unyielding sense of flawless professionalism. Of course he would've already made steps in serving his new employer perfectly. The man growls, deciding to try another approach as the blunt demands haven't got him anywhere yet. He coughs slightly, his English coming out less clipped as he tries for polite. Even if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

"Look, it would really help me out if you could give me the numbers. A lot."

Yep. A really bad taste.

There's a long breath on the end of the line, the cop, Jarrell - having second thoughts. He hadn't passed on the contacts to 'glasses' after finding out why he had wanted them either, the man being frank and up front about his distaste of the situation when he had explained just why he was forced to call and ask for a direct line to the cartel heads seconds' - A direct line into the groups for the same exact person who had just royally fucked them off by scamming them out of tens of thousands of dollars. He knows about the wife and kid, the sad thing being that it's more than likely too late for them already. The man should have thought a little more before trying to hit the big leagues.

Jarrell though, suspects the call from Asami's former second earlier may have been more of a round about way to alert him to the imminent threat of a borderline nut job having just inherited, by force, an entire black market organisation and all the arsenal and clout that go along with it. It's a threat that if left unchecked, may destroy a lot more than a few men, it's one that has been levelled onto the already delicate and precarious balance between crime syndicates the world over, dangerous and merciless organisations and it threatens entire countries - the ones where corruption runs deep within government and those peoples ties to the worldwide black-market trade. It will fuck a lot of things up for a lot of people.

The man mulls it over. Peru, Colombia, Mexico - Japan. The routes that are already being affected into Asia, the U.S. Money being withheld, deals going sour. And his job as an undercover agent is to make sure these deals do happen. To track the money, the merchandise from start to finish and take down the necessary targets from there, but it runs deep. Too deep. It not in the governments interest to take them all down, the wide spread, lucrative ones. The ones that line their pockets. But this guy. This fucker Yamamoto, threatens to throw everything for a loop.

He sees it in his best interest to give Asami the numbers, the cool, level headed business man who would hopefully strike a deal with the cartel and once again seize control. Regain order before the shit really hits the fan.

"Aight, I'll give you access to these guys, man…" He sighs. "I guess I owe you that much and especially if this dog Yamamoto is as unstable as you say."

"That's more than enough. Thanks." Asami breathes out, not realising that he hadn't actually done so for several minutes. He sets down his cigarette as he jots the international cell numbers down onto the pad he had been scrawling notes down onto, checking over his shoulder once more to ensure the wily little photographer hasn't tried to sneak out of the bedroom again while he wasn't looking.

With these clear lines into the organisations at least Asami will be able to do what he does best, plant the seed of doubt, desire and greed - awakening those things within people. Men. That will aid only him in the long run, people being generally easy to manipulate, once you know how. And he knows Yamamoto.

He just hopes that he can get that chance though before getting dismissed as a haggard, tired old has-been. A fool.

He hangs up the line, taking a celebratory swig and drag before setting the paperwork in the study. Keeping it out of view. As he's exiting he hears the toilet flush, tutting at the boy's inability to stay still or ask for help when he needs it. He rounds the corner into the bedroom, catching Akihito hobbling out of the bathroom with his crutches and flashing Asami a cheeky grin so the man decides to just stand back and enjoy the show, Akihito hobbling all the way past him and leaving to room so he follows of course - to the kitchen.

"Ah! I am so hungry! I feel like I haven't eaten for days, you want something? I can do us eggs, sausages and some toast and-"

"I think you should go back to bed, I'll make you something."

"Eh?-No way! Look I'm fine, it's better if I'm up and about. Isn't that what the doctor said?"

Asami crosses his arms, a reluctant smile dancing on the edge of his lips.

"No, it's not."

But Akihito just snorts and takes himself to the fridge, he had done enough thinking and wallowing in the hospital. More than enough. He's just happy to be home, happy that Asami seems to be taking this time away from his important work to spend with him and he doesn't want to spend it sleeping or staring at the dark ceiling of the bedroom. He's going to make breakfast, shower and call his job to make sure he can still go back in a few days like he had planned.

He prepares breakfast, idly chatting away to Asami who answers with grunts of assent, disappearing some time after to his study until the food is ready. They eat in relative silence and Akihito gets help in packing away the dishes, Asami having to do the lifting and bending while Akihito stands back and blushes profusely at the apparent helplessness he's exuding. Sipping his sweetened tea.

"I'll be going out for a few hours Akihito, I trust you'll behave yourself…"

The photographer nods, mind of course already working to the contrary after all, he has big plans for today. He glances up from his cup a little too late to school his features, damn - he knows Asami knows that look. Mischief.

}xXx{

"Saikou! You're number one! OK! - One. More. Time!-"

"Ichi!"

Akihito raises his legs up by the knee, feet flat on the floor and flat on his back on the living room rug - no yoga mat to hand as he struggles his way through the ten minute work out for pregnant women he had found on the health channel, determined to get back up to full strength as fast as possible.

"Ni!"

He swears, sweat beading at his temples as he bites his lip, feeling like the muscles in his legs are tearing with the tightness of the stitches as he raises up his feet from the floor by an inch, two inches, the effort of it making him cry out in pain but he doesn't drop them, only fists the rug in his hands as he holds the pose. Stomach muscles working like they haven't in weeks.

"San!"

Akihito scrunches his eyes shut, just two more - two more to go as his recovering muscles flutter with the effort. His more damaged leg faltering ever so slightly.

"Yon! Gambattene! Almost there!"

A litany of 'fuck, fuck, fuck' spills from his lips, the slow count nothing but torture as the infuriatingly cheerful girls on screen bob their legs up and down to the Jpop tune playing in the background. Fucking show offs. He tugs the rug even harder and draws his knees further into his chest in retaliation, the result a resounding pop as his weakened joints protests at the treatment.

"Go! Eh?! Yatta-! Sugoi! Sugoooooo-!"

"Fuck…the fuck….off." Akihito silences the overly high pitched voices with the press of a button and huffs as he lays listless and panting on the rug, feeling like he's just gone five rounds with Asami. But unfortunately with none of the pleasant ache in his ass and groin, no. The remote control for the T.V gets chucked somewhere to his right, the photographer rolling over so he can use the sofa to hoik himself up and grab his crutches, deciding to go take a long bath before the land baron gets home to discover that Akihito's been working out in the living room like some bored housewife.

Across the city Asami isn't fairing much better, the man more crippled in the metaphorical sense as his bank manager stares down his nose at him, the one he knows as Asami Ryuichi. The one and only. He had arrived not twenty minutes ago, coming through the double doors with none of the usual fanfare, without the goons that usual accompany him (the ones that are probably armed to the teeth and usually intimidate everyone else out of the bank.) Nope, today was different and instead he had taken a ticket from the machine, seated himself without a word and had patiently waited to be seen in order to ask to see the head of the branch himself. It was only when the manager had been called over by the teller that the man even knew Asami was in the building. Most peculiar indeed.

"So, Asami-san. You really wish to withdraw the entire amount? From the Swiss account? Do you have any idea the implications of moving that much money from over seas in one hit?"

"I do, I also know you have adequate way's of, disguising it. You've done it before.."

The bank managers feathers are getting more and more ruffled the further this conversation is going on. It sounds like one of Solar Bank's biggest accounts wants to take their money and run, and as a man with a large share in said bank. He can't let that happen. He coughs slightly, shifting in his seat and typing some nonsense into his computer as he tries to come up with the next strategy, sighing and shaking his head with a what he hopes is convincing disappointment.

"Asami-san, I'm so sorry but please understand. You are asking me to move millions of yen into the country in order to withdraw it - in cash. It will take me weeks upon weeks after filtering it through the system. It's just not feasible. For now please take my suggestion, withdraw from one of your usual accounts and I will see what I can do…"

"That won't do Kimura." The man says darkly. "I want my money. Today. Do you really want to piss me off?"

Asami lights a cigarette, leaving the little weasel to think up more excuses as they sit in his garishly over-furnished office. The fact that he had given up his cards and rights to all but one of the accounts to Yamamoto via Kirishima goes unsaid as he stubbornly stares the man down, not a crack visible in the façade he's presenting. He debates calling Kirishima, or at least pretend to, to put forward his point more effectively although in this quiet office it's more than likely Kimura will be able to hear everything so Asami decides to stub out his cigarette instead, withdrawing his phone to send a text. Though not to Kirishima, to Akihito.

'Should I pick up anything for dinner?'

He lets his eyes flicker back up to the man, a false tell to make Kimura think he's being blacklisted to Asami's goons and the former kingpin lets him think as much. Asami takes his time in locking his phone and slipping it back into his breast pocket, the subtle beep of the undoubtedly excited return text from Akihito giving the impression Asami's order has been acknowledged and that his car has arrived back outside.

"You've got until tomorrow Kimura, Or I'll be forced to have my men pay you, and your wife, a visit."

He gets up from his seat, drawing to his full hight as he brushes off his jacket. Letting the man cower as he sweeps out of the room.

}xXx{

Akihito chortles at the stupid game show he's watching, a dozen or so men lined up blind folded and forced to taste mystery ingredients such as red hot chillies and smelly blue cheese. The photographer finding it hilarious that some people would do practically anything for money.

He had gotten addicted to the show during his time in hospital, twelve whole days with nothing to do but eat, sleep and indulge in day-time T.V. Asami having been strangely quiet the whole time which made Akihito tense and on edge, the television a good way to distract him from his lovers weird moods.

His phone beeps again from where it lay next to him on the sofa, with what he assumes is a return text from Asami. But it's not.

.

'Is it true? FL'

.

Akihito frowns down at his phone, beers set already on the table while he waits for Asami to get home with the Sushi he had demanded for dinner. The photographer relaxes back into the sofa again, his legs resting up on several cushions and elevated to relieve the ache a little as he replies to the mystery text from a private number. Is what true? And who's FL?

.

'Dude sorry, I think

you've got the wrong number…'

.

It's only a couple of seconds before his phone beeps again though and he tuts, setting down the remote control so he can read the new message.

.

'Don't be such a simpleton Akihito.

It's Fei Long. Is it true about Asami?'

.

Upon gasping and looking on disbelievingly at the words before him, Akihito fails to process anything other than Fei Long. The name not being one he had ever really expected to hear or see ever again, let alone have the man message him like this. He had changed his E-mail account for a reason. And how did he even get his number?

Uh, he thinks. Tao.

With shaking hands he stares at the screen, now having finally seen the rest of the message and it worrying him more than he would have ever thought. Asami. What's happened to Asami? Isn't he on his way home right now? In his haste he foregoes the logical step of just calling the man or even doubting the texts validity, instead feverishly typing out his panic. Waiting with bated breath for a reply which takes all too long to come.

.

'I'm talking about Asami surrendering his

entire empire to a lowly drug dealer because

you had been used as a bargaining tool,

I had heard several days ago but in truth

had laughed it off until now.

It seems it's true. Is it?'

.

Akihito forgets how to breathe, staring at the message with wide, stricken eyes and he shakes his head in denial trying to tell himself that no, it can't be. Not the fact that Asami was in the state he was in at the hospital, not the reason why he's been home all this time and Akihito hadn't seen any of his men. Not the fact they had taken a simple cab back from the hospital themselves, not a goon in sight. Not even that the phone hasn't rung once. That Asami's phone hasn't rung once. No, even for all that, it can't be.

He goes to type another desperate reply but the sound of rattling keys at the front door stills his movements and he panics, still too shocked at the out of the blue message to really react at this point. He's just numb, not able to comprehend that Asami could ever not be at the very top of Japan's underworld. It's Asami. It's stupid. He shakes his head at least, deciding for now that he should just relax, that it might be Fei Long just pulling his gammy leg, or it might not even be Fei Long at all. No, he takes a long shuddering breath and tries to relax back into the sofa, scooping up the remote again as the man himself comes into view carrying a large wrapped platter of Sushi. Akihito's appetite though, mysteriously evaporated.

"O-" He swallows and tries again. "Okaeri…"

Asami sets down the Sushi on the coffee table, removing his coat and jacket before he looks at Akihito, concern playing over his features.

"You alright? You look pale."

The photographer shrugs it off and tells Asami it's just tiredness, the man humming in response and leaning down for a kiss but Akihito finding it hard to return it what with the suffocating pressure in his chest and dryness in his mouth. Asami senses the tension in Akihito and pulls away, his eyes as always seeking to read the truth hidden in those hazel eyes but Akihito just heaves out a long shuddering sigh, slipping down further into the sofa and feigning a yawn like he's just feeling un well and he isn't trying to shrink away from that piercing gaze. Like he isn't doubting Asami.

He blinks up lazily at the man as he finally withdraws with a hand ruffling his hair, Asami going to get changed and have a quick shower before dinner and the boy offers to get some pickled vegetables and condiments from the kitchen on his crutches, though pausing when he sets them down on the coffee table. Biting his lip in deliberation before reaching a decision and doubling back to the bedroom, the water already running in the shower room. He goes into the master bedroom, spotting Asami's clothes and his personal effects on the bed side table as usual. His watch, his mobile phone.

With a nervous gulp he quickly darts past the bathroom door as stealthily as he can whilst on his crutches, trying to avoid bumping into any furniture or the walls so he can scoop up the phone. He doesn't want to do this, open this can of worms by asking Asami, fearing the man would either get angry or tell him it's none of his business. Instead he'll quickly call Kirishima, just a few words is all it's going to need to confirm that yes, it's Fei Long yanking his chain or that it's not Fei Long at all. Just a few words.

But Akihito freezes upon seeing Asami's call history. Trying to quell the growing panic rising within him as he sees that yes, for over two weeks now there hasn't been a single incoming or outgoing call to or from anyone at Asami's work. That the man has only made one call at all since Akihito was injured.

Why? Why, Akihito thinks, shaking. Why is it since then? That night?

It's as if he's, Asami is simply cut off from well, everything. His only contact bar the one international call in these past few days has been Akihito, and those have been just texts. It doesn't make any sense when Asami is a total workaholic. None of it makes any sense.

There's a small clatter from the bathroom, startling Akihito and he quickly clicks on the name he wants when he's scrolled down the page, typing Kirishima's number into his own phone. The fact that Asami even still has the mans number though does to some extent, give Akihito hope. It's entirely possible that Asami had taken some time off, ordered his men not to bother him during that time and Akihito is going to get in the shit for even thinking of bothering his men. But he can't help it. He sets Asami's phone down hastily and hobbles the fuck out of the bedroom just as he hears the water shut off, getting back to the living room and onto the sofa trying to act like his heart isn't racing and he isn't hyperventilating at the thought of going behind Asami's back, that he's even considering doing something like this.

As he hears the man make his way back to join him in the living room he hastily opens his beer, setting aside his phone for now until he knows he'll be alone again and so he can act like he's been here all the while. He sets the T.V to some drama, not paying attention in the slightest though as he sees Asami walking nonchalantly into the room, the man cool and composed as ever even just in a pair of joggers and with a small towel around his neck. Akihito finding it impossible to believe some stupid out of the blue text message when the real article, Asami - looks as unaffected as ever.

He settles for throwing a warm smile Asami's way, wincing as he slides down off the sofa to the coffee table to dish out some Sushi for each of them and to pass Asami his beer. A small 'kanpai' before they raise their drinks up to their lips.

}xXx{

Asami's fingers trace over the still healing scars on Akihito's legs. The deep one on in his right thigh, at the base of his left knee, the middle of his left calf. He places a kiss on each one, tracing his lips up to the soft flesh at Akihito's groin. Placing a kiss low on his belly and making his lover grumble, grabbing Asami's raven locks in hand to try and force his head down, down to where he had been teasing and blowing for far too long now.

The man had carried Akihito to the bed, hands cradling his ass as the boy held on tightly, kissing a trail from Asami's temple to lips and back up again the other side. He had laid the photographer down on their bed, Akihito protesting any further action with a stubborn request for his crutches on the basis that if he needs the toilet during the night he'd rather wet the bed than have Asami carry him to the bathroom. Surprisingly Asami had laughed at that, his eyes mirthful as he pecked his lover on the lips just making him pout more at not being taken seriously but he had gone, had collected them to set them by the bed when in his absence, Akihito had undressed and was waiting for him in the middle of the bed, sitting up with legs raised and apart. A rare, blushing show of invitation brought on by the three beers he had practically chugged.

The man continues to tease Akihito though, drinking in each and every delicious whine and gasp as he fondles the boy's balls, nipples, the secret sensitive patch of skin just under his ears - everywhere except for where he needs it most. Scratch that. The two places where he needs it most.

He whimpers for him, his lover and pushes himself down onto the one finger that's lingering at his entrance, the one he can feel that's already slicked and ready. He throws his head back in frustration as he tries again to reach his own hands down, to relieve some of the throbbing pressure coursing through his dick but he almost sobs to have them batted away. Asami shushing him before finally, fucking finally, swooping down to engulf his member and thrust in a finger without warning. Making Akihito scream.

They go for hours, this the first time in weeks that Asami could take Akihito until he's truly satisfied and the boy doesn't faint on him. He tucks him under the covers and tells him to rest after collecting a glass of water and setting it next to him, sliding Akihito's phone slightly out of the way. The display reading one in the morning.

Asami gets into bed, the lights shutting off soon after.

From there it's a waiting game for Akihito, fighting off his own exhaustion by pinching himself and blinking away the sleep furiously, his back to Asami but the photographer still listens out for any changes in his lovers breathing, trying to feel how the arm slung across his waist should further relax as the man sinks into unconsciousness. It's a matter of minutes before he feels it and he waits further still, until his left forearm is red and sore from the self inflicted abuse and he takes a long breath. Sliding out from under Asami's arm gingerly and pausing at the edge of the bed so he can arrange his crutches.

It's OK he tells himself, he's just going to the toilet.

Going to the toilet in the other end of the penthouse in the middle of the night to phone someone behind his lovers back.

With as careful steps as his body allow he finally gets to the guest bathroom, locking the door and sitting in the dark on the toilet lid with his crutches hanging off his arms while he searches for the contact he had saved into his phone earlier that night. His heart pounds as the phone finally starts to ring the other end. Anticipation making him almost giddy, apprehension making him feel violently sick.

Eight rings, he counts…eight long rings before the man finally picks up with a hesitant greeting.

"…Hello?"

"K-Kirishima-san? Uh, hey…." He can't help feeling relieved, not that he knows why. But the fact that Kirishima is alright settles something in Akihito. He knows he'll get his answers. "Um, are you alright to talk? Sorry I'm, calling so late…"

"No, no. Not at all….uh chotto…"

Akihito leans against the cistern trying to calm his heart as he hears movement on the other end of the line. Kirishima going down the corridor to his office in Sion and shutting the door firmly. Crossing the room into his private bathroom and running the water before he continues.

"Takaba-kun, why are you calling. Did something happen?"

Akihito's expression lightens a little, so nothing weird is happening at Sion? That's a relief, Asami must have just taken time off after all…he feels a little stupid as he spills the reason for his call.

"Um actually, I was hoping you could tell me that? Uh, if there's anything going on with Asami? I had a-uh, weird message earlier. From F-Fei Long… "

There's a quiet, muffled knock at the door and Akihito jumps out of his skin, not sure in his paranoid state whether the noise came from his end or Kirishima's. He looks fearfully at the bathroom door as he hears activity on the other end of the call. It going quiet before the man returns and whispers urgently into the receiver.

"Takaba-kun, Imamiya cafe tomorrow at three. Meet me if you can-"

And like that the line goes dead, the dial tone ringing out ominously into the cold, dark silence of the luxury bathroom. Dread slipping into every corner of Akihito's mind.