shiratorijun

Jun finished her shift at the J. As shifts went, it was successful. She had managed not to think about Ken or even wonder where Derek might be. They had not discussed Ken's comment in her journal. She did not want to discuss it, not that Derek asked. She really had nothing to say when it looked like his actions were making a liar out of her.

Strange that. He was putting pressure on their marriage.

After her shift, Jun went out to the scene of the firefight for another look around the place. Mecha damage was telltale. From there, she pinpointed back to her apartment. There, Derek told her he was taking off for a bit.

As conversations went, it was a polite one. Shortly thereafter, she received news that Hippolyta was having a birthday celebration. Thereupon, Jun unearthed a cask of tequilla, prettied herself up, and went to join the celebrations.

She made it a point not to pay too much attention to herself. She came home late in the evening. Her bed was cold. The floor was still thumping beneath her feet from the party down in the J. She got into the bed and considered the thought, that this was the first night she and Derek had been apart for a reason other than his hunting.

Jun shut the bedroom door behind her and leaned against the wall. She held the empty tray to her chest and let her legs fold under her. Her back slid against the wall until her butt reached the floor.

She looked up, opening her eyes wide. It would not do to cry. Derek was having a hard day. He was worried about Sancho, and other things. People kept trying to kill her teammates. She was way behind on figuring out ways to move Dr. Totenkoph's library, or duplicate some useful technology.

She could not stop thinking of Ken's words. He thought she was beautiful. He had always thought she was beautiful. She used to think, there was no point in being cute when Ken didn't notice, but here he was; safe, if not sound, and thinking her beautiful. His words were like the lingering warmth of a lover's caress on her cheek.

Jun groaned a little then bit her lip. Derek was so wrapped up in his concerns. Perhaps he wouldn't hear.

Ken and his damned words. His impeccable timing had failed him. He was too late. It was too late for them.

In an old church in another Mexico, Jun had made vows. She had promised to forsake all others. At the time, she had not understood the cost.

All others included Ken. That meant abandoning him in his pain. It meant leaving him to his own devices. When he hurt, she would not offer comfort. When he struggled, she would not throw him rope -- at least in some respects.

She still loved the man.

But she had promised to forsake all others -- and she would. Because when it came right down to it, the only all others that mattered was him. Washio Ken. Gatchaman. Owashi no Ken. Her personal hero. Her shining star. Her savior and friend.

So she did.

As often as he reached out to her, she would continue to turn her back on him. Or only offer the back of her hand.

Timing. It was everything.

She took a deep breath. Her sigh was thick with tears. She rose to her knees and went downstairs for more soup. Hopefully, Derek was hungry and he would be wanting more.

Please respect the fourth wall. Unless you've stolen the note, you can't know what Jun's writing.

The gods' wicked breath was stirring the soup fed by the near constant, warm rains. Taiphun season was upon them. Business was slacking as people couldn't afford to leave their homes unattended. Jun was doing a brisk business in lottery tickets, and take-away noodle-bowls but she was hurting. That was the nature of the rainy fall.

Yet, there was much boring work to be done. There were leaks to attend to in the storeroom. Supplies to moved out of the way. Foodstuffs to be purchased and collected, advertisements to be distributed and tracked.

The J stayed open as late as it could be managed. After which, Ainur brought Jun a written report. The bar receipts were off. Ainur had been furious, nearly weeping with rage. She'd shown it to Jun with deep apologies. Jun and Ainur had stayed up late in the night, trying to figure out which of the bartenders was cheating the J.

When Jun went upstairs, she stopped to check on Kian. Afterwards, she pulled out a bit of stationary and began to write a letter to Derek.

My beloved Anthony,

Thank you for being my very good friend.

I love what we do together. I'm grateful that I can count on you to look out for us. I'm so glad that I trust you and that you trust me. I believe in your goodness and kindness. I'm glad that you don't ask me to be anyone but who I am. I hope I do the same for you. I want to do the same for you, my sweet husband.

She rolled up the note and tied it up with a length of cooking string. Then she went to bed.

She had trouble sleeping, when the time was right for that. Eventually, she went into the nexus and ran into several oddly personal posts. She found herself answering Mr. Wilson's question regarding favored sexual positions and pornographic terms. It got her thinking about her history. Of Ken-who-was-away. Of Ken-who-had-come-home-to-her, of Joe and of Choji and the others that had gone on with their lives just as surely as she had gone on with hers.

She sat near the window while the rain spattered and hissed against the glass. A broken light flickered and hissed in the distance. A wicker laundry basket piled with damp clothes sat beside her.

She unrolled the note she'd written earlier and added, I love our sex. You're so sweet to me. You excite and comfort me. You make me laugh and sob when we're together. Every moment is too long and not long enough. I'm so glad you're mine.

She rolled up the note and lay it aside. There was a break in the rain. She went to put some clothes up on the line. Hopefully the weather would hold.

Gatch players are welcome, but otherwise, respect the fourth wall.

Jun walks out of the hot kitchen and into the damp alley. The honest stink of fermenting fruit scraps, rotting scraps of meat, and sticky cooking oil is a satisfactory odor. It's honest corruption. It has nothing to do with irregular macrophages or diabolical virri.

"Dear man?" she says reflexivley. "Where would you be?"

Derek is over in the garage, but he can hear her fine, "Jun..." he calls, loud enough to be heard across the street.

Jun laughs. His hearing is rather actue. Finer than hers at any rate. She did not expect a response. Not with the wet smush of bicycles, mopeds, and trucks bleeding over from the main thoroughfares.

Derek pokes his head out of the door, looking out over the street, expression curious. There's a grease smudge on one cheek. "Here," he adds, quieter.

"Busy?" She heaves a twenty gallon trash bag into the dumpster. It's full of the sort of trash that can't be recycled and couldn't be made into soup or pickle.

"Just messing with the second Jeep..." he emerges, trotting across the street after a few cars go by.

"I was wondering where you were was all." Her grin is a fleeting thing.

"Can I help?"

"Too late! In this regard your timing is horrible." She smiles. "Kiss me quick so I can go chop more vegetables." By this she means save. The chef prefers to use fresh whenever possible. And he prefers to use the newer vegetables before the older.

He nods, then smiles a little. "Oops." He takes hold of her, and kisses her quickly, then more deeply.

"Hm!" Her giggle is a throaty affair, barely muffled by his mouth.

"Hmn...!" he echoes her, then takes a quick nibble at her neck, "Sorry...just too noisy too night," he whispers against her skin. He kisses her jawline and chin. When she leans back he lets her go.

"More money for us," she says.

"Yes," he agrees, "And that's a good thing."

She rests against the wall of her building and regards him carefully. She's been thinking of his outburst in Nix's blog, and she's wondering what was behind that.

"I'm just...slight headache." He shrugs. He looks at her closely, "you are thinking?"

"Yes," she says. "I am." Another smile followed by an obvious inhalation. "You don't hate Sanders, do you?"

"...Greg..." his expression goes from curious to slightly sour, then he sighs, "He pissed me off. I got mad...maybe a little too mad. But I don't hate him. Don't think much of him at the moment, but I don't hate him."

"Anthony...I don't like him, but, I'm the friend of a woman he has no respect for. How he acted towards me, those are...just his problems with that wonderful girl. But...he said you'd been sniping at him and...critisizing the basement people. Granted, it's Sanders who's capacity for self-deception is..." she chuckled. "Elastic. But, are you a little angrier, mi amor? Critisizing people for being, sadly, themselves?"

Derek is quiet for a moment, then nodded, "Yeah..." he said quietly, "But I'm...working on it..."

"Okay..." She pushed herself from the wall and insinuated herself into his space, putting her foot over his since her hands were dirty. "Can I help?"

Sexual situations ahead. Please respect the fourth wall, unless you've got a character that's spying on the couple.

Another Breidlander get-a-way.

Derek snuggled against Jun as she looked at her email. He enjoyed the warmth and pressure of their bodies together, loved spooning around her protectively, even if there was no need for it. Occasionally, he glanced over her shoulder while she read, but mostly, he had his face buried affectionately in her shoulder and hair.

Eventually, Jun turned the device off, settling it on the night stand before turning over to face him. She played with his hair, tweaked his nose, traced his cheek and lips with her fingers. She slid her hand along the column of his throat to his collar bone, and then his chest.

Derek closed his eyes, enjoying it. Until Jun spoke.

"I might go see Nix tonight..." she said. "Maybe...If I can find her a nice man...too bad Mr. Wilson is crazy."

Derek nodded, recalling the conversation he'd peeked at earlier, then sighed, "Overthrown for a horny fire chicken," he said, but his voice was teasing lightly.

Jun hugged Derek. "No...I like being with you. I think...I wanted to spend the night with you...count your gray hairs. Listen to your breath wheeze."

"Uh huh." Derek responded, raising an eyebrow.

She stroked his stomach. "Help you in and out of the bathroom. Rub liniment on your joints."

"Should I start shaking with arthritis while I'm at it?" He grinned back at her.

Jun giggled.

Derek hugged her tightly for a second, "Go take care of her: you know I'll be here."

"Want to be with you, mi amor."

"I want you with me...but...she needs a good friend"

She took a shuddery breath. "If she asks, dear man. I will. She's a good friend."

Derek nodded silently, accepting it.

"You don't know the things we've gotten up to together, Anthony."

"You and Nix?"

Jun's hair sheeted forward as her head moved in another nod of its own

"Hmn..." Derek's voice was thoughtful.

She shook her head from side-to-side. "And I won't tell you what either." She was blushing.

"...Did I look like I was gonna ask?"

Jun mouthed 'no', then said. "It wasn't nice."

"Ah...well...you didn't end up in jail, did you?"

"Of course not!"

Derek chuckled, nibbling her ear at her outraged reply, "Well then...I don't see a problem..."

Her laughter was soft. Her back arched, her toes curled, she wound her fingers into the duvet. "Oh..." she breathed.

Derek took advantage...he wouldn't keep her from going if Nix called...but he would take what time he could before that. He worked down her neck as one hand traced down her belly and teased at her waistband, working under it at the edges. Their movements pushed the sheet aside.

"Heh!" he said, noticing what she was wearing. "...Well, I guess that's one way to advertise your lover's packaging."

Packaging? Jun wondered but said, "Yours are so much more comfortable than mine." Her eyes were long and shuttered with laughter. Her voice was matter of fact. She parted her legs with a sleepy sigh. "You don't think much of my excuse?"

Derek remained quiet, but smiled. There was a kissing sound, followed by Jun's pleased gasp. She rocked her hips from side to side and managed to say, "Don't you like how they look on me?"

"Hmn...." the sound Derek made was appreciative. So were his hands.

She reached for the green-set pendant hanging from the silver chain around his neck: the mate to the necklace and charm she wore around her neck. "These are - ah - the professor gave us a nice...pres--" her rolled against the bed. She draped her arm over her mouth and bit. Her free hand skated down the length of Derek's arm to join his beneath her waistband.

"...Yes..." Derek responded quietly. He was gently working at her now...carefully, moving with her and her hand. He kisses her deeply, invading her with purpose.

Abandoning her attempt at conversation, Jun pulled her hand free of his warm, heavy one. She opened herself, winding her hands around his neck. Her voice hurried from note to note, one moment breathy, the other shrill. There's no point in thinking, only feeling the rock of his shoulders, the press of his weight and the sounds their bodies made as his skin slid over hers. She whispere a word, then called his name with a sharp cry.

He played at her until the first wave sent her shivering, then pulled her stolen pants down and away, working himself fully into and over her, trying to catch her at the end of the crest and send her back up with his entire body this time. He was quiet, but stray words of affection emerged when he was not busy working at her lips, or neck, or breasts. He moved slowly at first, but gained speed as she started over again, and they both tightened around each other...her calls encouraged him, and he was soon lost in her voice, the feel of her against him, her grip, her scent.

Please respect the fourth wall. Sexual situations are ahead.

The Utoland Inn Hotel Breidlander, a large hotel, stretches deceptively across half a city block. It was renovated from a grouping of single-family, three-story homes built around converted courtyards. Wings, and in some spots, entire buildings had been torn down to make room for the gardens - both private and communal. It's the kind of place that accepts guests that are referred by other guests: very private, very discrete. It manages to combine Swiss and Japanese traditions. There are communal baths, of course, but several of the ground floor rooms have private tubs.

Jun had fled the J and the crowded apartment earlier. Now, she kneels besides a small laquered table. The only thing that belongs to her that she happens to wear are her star-sapphire ring, and the silver and green-gem necklace Professor Nadezhda gave her. The robe, slippers, and jacket she wears were provided by the hotel.

The French doors are open to the small private garden. The only light in the six tatami room is that coming in from the outside. It settles softly on her pinked cheeks. She has done her hair. The green tint has been stripped from it. She is nursing a mug of tea and paging through official documents. A delicate rain mists the greenery outdoors.

The following is the note Jun wrote to Ken.

Can we skip to the part where we crack jokes about it in the midst of living full happy lives? You're a great man. Derek is a great man. Please respect him and my committment to him? Let's be good friends without bitterness? You're a wonderful person, I suspect. I know. I swear, I won't abandon you. I won't avoid you or think badly of you but... I only want one husband but aside from that, I'll stand by you, Ken. I swear it. We'll find a way to anchor you here.

Jun meant to deliver the note to Ken, but she ended up leaving it in the keeping of Arisa.

Any day that doesn't involve hunting vampires or chopping off the heads of dead bodies, then burning them?

Is a lazy day.

Ainur's littlest one is very sick. She's been in the apartment tending to her daughter, Minnie.

The J2 is roofless and the rains have started. Jinpei and Sancho have been bunking down with us. Including Kian, that makes five people in the apartment. It's cozy. It's also good opportunity to spend time in the J.

For some reason, Jinpei's mortified. It's not his fault, but there it is.