title: Stages
fandom: K Project
characters/pairings: Fushimi/Awashima, Munakata/Fushimi, Benzai, Yata
rating: Teen
warnings: bad language, noncon
summary: Fushimi Saruhiko, after the death of the Red King
notes: written just after mainlining the series, contains spoilers for the end of the series.

Fushimi stands on the bridge, watching HOMRA grieving and chanting for their fallen King. He holds his hand over his chest, as if he can deny the pain. As if he can deny what they all saw with their eyes.

As if, somehow, the death of the Red King might become more or less real if he just stands there.

In the back of his mind, somewhere, there is a voice that sounds like his saying over and over, My King is dead, my King is dead, my King is dead, even as another voice, which also sounds like his saying, He wasn't my King. He was never my King.

Fushimi doesn't know what he is feeling. He doesn't like it.

Someone, one of his esteemed coworkers, pulls on his elbow, trying to coax him to follow. Follow his teammates, follow his superiors, follow the Blue King. He doesn't know who it is (though, later he thinks he can probably identify the offender by his broken nose). He doesn't move when he should.

As he walks away, away from the bridge and the chanting and HOMRA and the dead King, he thinks about that.

He doesn't move when he should.

Rolling to the side, he puts his feet on the floor. As expected of the Heartless Woman, the wooden floor next to her bed is ice cold. This makes Fushimi smile in a way a quick fuck and a pair of flabby breasts can't.

"You don't have to leave right away."

That nearly makes him laugh, but he knows better than to do that to Awashima-san right after sex. "Don't be silly. You wouldn't want me to be caught in here, now, would you? Say, perhaps, by our beloved Capta-"

"You really have a filthy mouth," she cuts him off.

Grinning, he stands up, stretching out. Being naked feels good. "You made good use of that filthy mouth just a little bit ago, didn't you? Does that make you a filthy woman?" he snickers.

Stupid uniform has so many pieces to it. Getting dressed in a hurry like this is a pain. He hates fraternizing with his coworkers, but he's a man, after all. Going out is even more of a pain. At least he didn't bother wearing underwear coming in, so he doesn't have to bother with 'em coming out.

"You can rely on us a little bit, you know," Awashima-san complains.

This is getting bothersome. "You're not falling in love with me, are you? If that happens... our poor Captain..."

"Get out," she orders, and he laughs now, because there's no way he can't.

"Yes, yes. Yessir!" he haphazardly tosses his clothes on. He doesn't need to look ready for work. He just needs to not be indecent.

"It's not like we don't realize you'd be grieving," she mutters to herself. "Your King died, after all. I can't imagine..."

She really can't. If something happened to the Blue King, she probably thinks she'd die with him. That makes him angry. HOMRA didn't just drop dead en masse on the beach, did they? Does this bitch think she loves her King more than Anna loves Mikoto? Than Kusanagi? Than... but he doesn't even want to think about that person.

"Did something happen to the Captain I'm not aware of? No wonder you lost your panties so fast!" He slaps the bitch right on her rump. He moves toward the door before she can even sit up and reach for her saber. "Thanks for the good time. Lieu~ten~ant!" he teases, and then he's out in the hall.

The feelings of heat and being surrounded are too fleeting. He's already stone cold and empty again.

He hesitates. It's late, and he's already given the report. He's done for the day. This is unlike him.

He looks back at the Blue King. Sitting there at his desk, contemplating a jigsaw puzzle. Looking carefree. Fushimi opens his mouth, but there are no words. No words when he doesn't know what he wants to say, right? What does he want to ask the Captain?


His vision blurs for a second. He's in another place, a warmer, kinder place. There's music and people are laughing, and another King is sitting, much like the Blue King, nearly oblivious to it all, until something takes his interest. Fushimi feels sick. He tightens his hand on the door handle. He doesn't have anything to say, right, so why...

He should have already left.

"Why don't you just ask me? I'm getting tired of waiting for you."

As always, the Blue King smirks, and sounds arrogant. It riles Fushimi enough to get him to let go of the door handle. He faces the Captain, his King. The voice in the back of his head is hissing, He could never be my King! I have no King! He straightens his shoulders.

Still, he has nothing to say.

Munakata clucks his tongue and shakes his head in amusement. "Aren't you too proud for your own good? Why can't you just say it? You want to know, don't you? About the death of the King."

Fushimi cocks his head to the side, and he realizes that he wants to kill this man. He's not stupid, so he's not about to try, but he wants, he wants the Blue King dead. Shouldn't he be dead? After all...

"Ah, you mean the Colorless King?" Fushimi says, as if he had trouble thinking of what the Captain might mean. "Mm, well, there's a new one now, isn't there? Let's hope he won't cause as much trouble as the last one, right, Captain?" he finishes cheerfully.

He's good with deception.

Munakata grins, looking feral. Fushimi thinks he might die before this conversation is over, so he wonders if he'd be able to cut Munakata at all, or maybe crack his glasses. Even messing up his hair would be good... "That's true. A new Red King has been crowned. How do you feel about it, Fushimi?"

He feels like he is under water. His fingernails dig into the flesh of his palms, and he grinds his teeth together. He has no idea what Munakata wants him to say, but it doesn't seem like Munakata is waiting for him to respond, anyway.

"Did you love him?" the Captain purrs. "You should have asked me about it before now. We could have shared some sake and wept bitter tears together. ...As if. Suoh Mikoto's life... ended by my hand. His last words... belong to me, and to me alone. What do you think about that? Fushimi?"

He's in the sickening position of being Misaki. Head spinning, Fushimi manages to turn without falling over, and he grasps the door handle like a lifeline. "I'm sure that gives you great pleasure. Captain. Go~od ni~ght," he singsongs, and then he's out in the hall.

He's out in the hall, which is darkened suitably for the hour of the day. He leans against the wall, and tries to get his feet to move. He leans against the wall, and pretends that his chest isn't hurting like hell.

Another crime scene, which means another report he'll be filing later. Someone said that HOMRA was involved, but Fushimi knew it wasn't, so. Still, he finds himself looking around, listening for skateboard wheels on cement, anything.

Of course, there's nothing.

It could be a Strain, so everyone gets all worked up. Fushimi stays back, and when the manhunt begins, he seats himself in the van. In theory, he's coordinating their efforts.

In theory.

Hours later, and everything is still annoying. Benzai is getting in his face about something. The Lieutenant is yelling at someone, possibly him. Everything blurs together. After dinner, Benzai is still being annoying. Even as annoying as he is, though, he's nothing compared to Misaki. Fushimi is thirsty.

He suggests that they spar.

In the SCEPTER 4 training dojo, he faces off with Benzai. There are spectators, including the Heartless Woman. Everything snaps into focus, though. He looks at Benzai, and he sees an Opponent.

Fushimi grins, and licks his lips.

He lets Benzai strike first, but that's because he can dodge it easily, and counter with even greater ease. First hit is his, but he hasn't drawn blood. Of course not, because they're using wooden swords, not their sabers. This is training.

Fuck that.

With a flick of his wrists, he snaps some daggers out from his sleeves and in between his fingers. He charges the daggers with red aura, and his wooden sword with blue aura. He laughs as he flings the daggers and then charges toward Benzai.

He can already taste blood.

He gets hit with a force field hard enough to knock him down. Disorientated, he rolls to get to his feet, growling. The Lieutenant is holding her saber, looking at him with terrified eyes. Is she really afraid of him!? Good! He doesn't mind cutting this bitch down! He surges forward to grab one of his daggers, letting his red aura surge.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Fushimi?!"

That just makes him laugh, but he can still still throw while laughing. He can kill her while laughing, and he hopes he does. She manages to deflect the first dagger, but he's got a second one already, and he's lunging toward her.

The second force field to hit him doesn't simply throw him aside. It shuts him down, crushing him to the floor.

"Oho, aren't we feeling rowdy tonight?"

That arrogant voice. That uncompromising pressure. Fushimi struggles and snarls. Ah, what he wouldn't give to taste the Captain's blood!

"Ca-Captain! My apologies, sir, I have been working on bringing this into order, sir. This is supposed to a sparring match, but Fushimi..."

"Enough. You should all go back to your rooms. Call it a night, people," the Captain orders.

There's a chorus of Yes, sir!s, and he can hear feet moving. He feels like vomiting. All these damned obedient fools...

"Once again, sir, I apologize for letting this get out of hand. Please, allow me to deal with Fushimi. I promise you, sir..." the Lieutenant began.

"I said, everyone, call it a night. I will take care of this situation, Awashima-kun. Do you understand?" So arrogant. So domineering. Fushimi is growling like a cornered cat now.

"Y-yes, sir!" the Lieutenant snaps to attention. And then she leaves. And then, the door to the dojo closes.

And then, he's alone with the Blue King.

"You really should have come to talk to me," Munakata purrs. The pressure on Fushimi increases, until he feels like his bones will start to crack. "You are out of control, Fushimi. You know what your problem is?"

Fushimi wants to snap, wants to strike out. Wants to scream. Unfortunately, there's still too much pressure. And now, a new pressure is added. The force on his back isn't aura. That's Munakata, sitting on him. Fushimi tries to buck and twist and wriggle to get out from under him.

"You have all this pride, all this machismo. You act like an alpha dog. But you're not the alpha, Fushimi." Munakata's hand pushes up the back of Fushimi's jacket and shirt, and his fingers slip under the waistband of his pants, grabbing a hold.

Fushimi's eyes widen.

"You know how the alpha dog teaches the beta his place? Fushimi?" Munakata purrs into his ear. This isn't happening. "I'm irritated, Fushimi. I'm going to take out my frustrations and you, and you're going to learn your place. And you know what that place is, Fushimi?

"You are under me. I am your King. You are mine. I'm going to use you."

A hand holds down Fushimi by his neck, and the intense aura pressure lets up, but that doesn't help. Munakata still has him pinned down. And he's able to do as he pleases, even as Fushimi fights back and struggles.

It just makes Munakata laugh. "You've never had any trouble bedding down a woman you wanted, have you? I bet you've never had any trouble with a man, either. But I doubt you've ever spread your legs before. I feel special. You know why I took you in, Fushimi? A traitor. Someone else's marked property. A psychopath. I thought... at some point... he'd come to get you back. Or he'd get angry seeing you fighting against him. I just thought it would be interesting. He didn't really care about you, though, did he? And now he's gone...

"How can I make you serve my needs now, then?"

"Arrogant... son of a..." Fushimi hisses.

Munakata laughs. "Yes, yes I am. Do you know why you came to me?" Munakata's fingers are pressing against Fushimi's entrance. Fuck's sake, this is really happening. Fushimi can feel the pressure! "You just can't be satisfied. This world can't satisfy you. But from now on, you don't have to worry about that. All you have to worry about...

"Is satisfying me."

It's damned sunny. Fushimi holds his hand up to block the sun, and lets his retinas burn. It's not hot yet, though. Fushimi still feels like taking off his jacket. He leans back against the van, and closes his eyes, but he sees an orange sky.

"You Blues sure have a lot of free time."

Fushimi's blood pressure jumps, but he doesn't visibly react at first. He is smiling, though. "Oh, we're very busy. Doing... whatever all those other guys are doing." He opens his eyes and looks at Misaki.

He looks like fucking hell.

He's not wearing his beanie cap, and he looks smaller, more compact than normal. He looks pale, too. And like he's itching for a fight, but that's Misaki. He's always itching for a fight.

Fushimi... doesn't feel like it today.

"You started sucking up to a new King yet, Mi~sa~ki?" he baits, anyway.

"Fuck off, you dickwad. Kusanagi said I had to ask you. 'Cause Anna said so. We're having a bonfire tonight. Kusanagi is burning a bunch of shit. For Totsuka-san, too."

Fushimi's chest tightens at the sound of that name. Ah... that was right, it all kind of started with Totsuka-san. For HOMRA, everything started with Totsuka-san, in so many ways. "What the fuck are you inviting me for? I'm not part of your stupid little kiddie gang," he spits out, but he lacks fire and he knows it.

Misaki looks pissed off, anyway, though. "I know that. I told them that! What the fuck ever, you bastard." Misaki looks away, but he doesn't leave.

They just stand there, in relative proximity to one another. Uncomfortably.

"It's got shit-all to do with me, but I heard your beloved King is kinda losing it. They say he's been temperamental lately," Misaki says, just to say something.

"Probably because he got Mikoto's blood all over 'im," Fushimi counters, happy that he can always, always one up Misaki.

It bothers him that his own insult hurts him, too, though.

"Won't be long before the Blue Dogs are just another kiddie gang. Then, will you go suck off the Gold King, try to join his crew?" Misaki taunts.

Fushimi laughs, because that's really, really funny. "Actually... lately, I've been thinking... maybe I like Munakata a little bit more than I did. Just a little bit."

"You really don't have any loyalty to your King, do you?" Misaki wonders, as if this is news.

"Nah, that's just the kind of masterless cur I am," Fushimi grins from ear to ear. "But I'm learning to play my part, none the less."

"You were better suited to HOMRA. You should have stuck with Mikoto," Misaki complains, scowling.

"Why? So I could be in mourning now, too?" Fushimi laughs. He moves away from the van, and winks at Misaki. "When you're all done crying like a baby, come and find me again. There's no fun in beating your ass while you're weeping. Mi. Sa. Ki."

"Fuck off, you bastard! I hope I never see your ass again!" Misaki shoots back, but Fushimi is still laughing.

He takes off his jacket, and strolls over to see if his weapons are needed.