[oneshot] Show Must Go On (Koichi x Tsubasa)
A certain annonymous someone requested a certain favorite under-appreciated crack pairing of mine on the JE Rare Pair Meme. And as I've been meaning to write this forever and enjoyed the prompt... Moderate spoilers for Endless SHOCK. Also I suck at naming things but what else is new?
[Show Must Go On] -- koichi x tsubasa
Tsubasa was making his way out of the building when he noticed the light under Koichi's dressing room was still on. He stopped, the clicking of shoes against hard wood echoing and dying as he stared at the door in question. It wasn't the first time Domoto would be the last one to go home and, knowing Koichi's work-a-holic personality, most certainly was not going to be the last. Still the cacophony of sounds that usually came from Koichi's room was strangely absent, and it made him the tiniest bit curious.
Tsubasa could hear the little nagging voice in the back of his head telling him shouldn't bother Koichi. Go back to the hotel. Rest. Despite popular belief, Domoto-san can fend for himself. And yet, there he was, knocking on the dressing room door before opening it with a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "Koichi-kun?"
Inside, the room was strangely devoid of the normal bustle of people he had come to expect; no Juniors pestering their beloved senpai, no costumers or stagehands fussing over the show’s lead actor, no Musical Academy members trying to force feed their friend or coerce him into a rowdy game of cards or drag him out for drinks. Just Koichi, impossibly small and maybe just a little too thin, curled up in his chair with one leg resting on the vanity table in front of him. He briefly glanced upwards at the intrusion but simply spared Tsubasa an exhausted smile before returning to his slouched position. "Oh, Chin-chin."
Tsubasa grinned at the nickname. It was such a Koichi thing to do, insisting on using the most embarrassing name to address him. It was still a little irritating, but in a sort of affectionate, playful way. Tsubasa had long ago grown used to it. "You're still here?"
Koichi waved a hand feebly as he shrugged, gesturing to the mostly empty room as if to say Obviously.
"I thought MA would've kidnapped you by now."
That earned Imai another little grin, followed by a tiny laugh. "Akiyama tried. I told him that if he didn't leave me alone I was going to make him fall down the stairs. Twice. Without the knee pads."
The two men laughed and, ignoring the wary advice of his conscience, Tsubasa stepped into the room and approached his senpai. Save for the lights on the vanity the room was dim, but there was still enough light to clearly make out every little tired crease on Koichi’s face. As Imai came closer he noticed a couple pain relief patches poking out from beneath Koichi’s undershirt on his right side. Tsubasa frowned. “Are you okay?”
Koichi looked at him quizzically before following the line of Tsubasa’s sight. He managed a sheepish grin, hand going up to his shoulder and kneading the muscles there. “It’s nothing. Just a little sore from the drumming.”
The younger of the two men sighed. “Koichi-kun…” Working through your pain was another of Koichi’s more bothersome habits. Tsubasa placed his bag down on the ground and walked around behind the chair, swatting away Koichi’s hand before laying his own on Domoto’s shoulders and beginning to massage the flesh under his palms. The voice in his head had gone from calmly nagging to all but shrieking for him to get out now. He swallowed hard, willed his fingers not to shake, and ignored it. “You have to take better care of yourself.”
Koichi stiffened initially. But after a few moments of gentle manipulation by his kouhai, he found himself relaxing again. A distracted murmur was all Tsubasa got in response to his chastising.
Tsubasa could admit that, at first, he had been a little intimidated by Koichi. There was an almost untouchable air about him, an aura that whispered 'stay away' and barred any potential interlopers gutsy enough to try to get close to the jimusho’s resident prince. It wasn’t Koichi's actions and no one had ever explicitly told Tsubasa that the elder of the Domoto duo was far too far out of his reach; it’s just the first impression Imai had of him. And Tsubasa was rarely one to go against his gut instincts.
He had told Tackey about this once years later but his partner had only laughed and called Tsubasa a worrywart. Koichi was just another co-worker, albeit a very hard working and highly esteemed one. What was there to fear? Then again, Takizawa could probably make friends with a potted plant if he put his mind to it. Tsubasa was much more skittish. He didn’t dare tell Tsuyoshi. The younger Domoto would understand, no doubt. But still Tsubasa couldn’t bring himself to admit his uneasiness to Koichi’s partner of so many years.
It was in this manner that Tsubasa had long ago decided that Domoto Koichi was off limits. He wouldn’t go out of his way to avoid him but he wouldn’t actively seek his company out either, no matter how curious he was about the man. A task that, as fate would have it, would become increasingly harder for him to accomplish. Takizawa had long ago been declared Koichi’s protégé by anyone and everyone who cared for such things and being considered the younger brother and good friend of Tsuyoshi it was hard for Tsubasa to avoid hearing about the other KinKi Kid on a frequent basis. And then the co-starring role in SHOCK had come and the two of them were working together constantly for several months out of the year. Tsubasa didn’t know if he should curse his luck or secretly thank it.
Despite his initial anxieties, Tsubasa worked hard with the cast and staff to make this show a success. Scenes were reenacted until they were committed to memory; until Tsubasa could close his eyes and recreate every costume, set and facial expression perfectly, feel the light touches of the other actors’ and dancers’ and the heat from the house lights, hear the music and lines looping over and over again in his mind. Clearest of all were the images of his co-star and rival, little mental vignettes that followed him home from work and infiltrated his thoughts both waking and not. Koichi looking up into his eyes with an intensity that had shocked him the first time he witnessed it up close and personal, and still managed to make something clench funnily in his stomach to this day. Koichi dancing on stage with him, taunting him, flirting, gyrating. The feel of Koichi’s hand on Tsubasa’s back, warm and a little clammy, as he looked up into his eyes for forgiveness and the weight of Koichi’s thin frame as he held him, dying in his arms night after night after night.
It felt like the worst kind of seduction possible.
The younger man was doing his best not to dwell on these very thoughts-and failing-when Tsubasa’s thumb worked out an especially tricky knot, leaving Koichi groaning appreciatively. Tsubasa started at the noise, jerking his hands away. Not wanting to be glaringly obvious he placed his hands back with a laugh, though he found himself hoping desperately that the act of massaging would cover the slight tremor in his fingers.
Unfortunately, Koichi seemed to be having one of his more perceptive moments and leaned his head back inquisitively, staring up into Tsubasa’s face with a curious expression.
“It’s nothing,” Tsubasa said, putting on his best smile and hoping it wasn’t coming across as entirely fake though the effectiveness of it he doubted. When Koichi didn’t seem to buy the explanation fully he added, “I’m just thinking.” With this he gave a much more genuine, tired smile, looking down into Koichi’s watchful eyes.
Whatever Tsubasa had just done, the other man appeared to have been appeased by this action. His eyes crinkled up as he smiled, looking suddenly much younger than the usual aloof, princely aura he liked to give off. “You and Tsuyoshi really are alike.”
Tsubasa closed his eyes with a chuckle, continuing to knead Koichi’s shoulders. “Just how alike are we?” When he opened them again the childish smile on Koichi’s face had morphed into something strange, a faraway look in his eyes. He stayed like that for a few beats, lost in his own thoughts, and just when Tsubasa was going to laugh off his question as a joke Koichi tilted his head back to look up at the younger man. Dark eyes stared up at Tsubasa owlishly. One of the elder Domoto’s hands went to rest on one of Tsubasa’s own, thumb absently rubbing the skin of Tsubasa’s wrist.
“Maybe too much.”
Tsubasa felt his fingers stop and his breath hitch, unable to move. It was as if Koichi was consuming him with his eyes, could see everything, knew everything, and was privy to his every thought and feeling. Tsubasa licked his lips. His mouth was dry and it felt like he couldn’t remember how to breathe. He should’ve listened to his instincts. He should’ve run when he had the chance.
Wordlessly, Koichi arched his free arm up and back and Tsubasa leant in obediently. The sensation of fingers on the back of his neck caused him to shut his eyes as a shiver ran from the point of contact down the length of his spine. He could feel his head being guided downwards and when their lips touched it was soft and experimental and just a little bit awkward. Tsubasa’s free hand moved up to tentatively cup under Koichi’s chin and he could feel the stubble rub against his palm as he ghosted fingers along his jaw line.
He wasn’t sure which one of them ended the kiss; thinking seemed to be far too hard a task at the moment, happily taking a back seat to feeling. All he knew was that their faces were pulling away much sooner than he would’ve liked and eyes were opening to stare in wonder, Tsubasa’s full of disbelief over this new and unexpected development and Koichi’s laced with a dark something that could’ve been lust but might also have been loneliness. Tsubasa tried to stutter that he should be leaving but the words felt clumsy in his mouth and halfway into it Koichi had turned around fully in his seat and taken Tsubasa’s face into his hands to kiss him again. All thoughts of escape were quickly discarded.
And then it was as thought time had sped up rapidly. One second Tsubasa’s arms were reaching around Koichi’s small frame to pull him close and the next the two of them were pressed up against the vanity, Koichi hopping up on the table and Tsubasa planting himself firmly between the older man’s legs, mouths trying to devour one another. Makeup and magazines and the odd bottle of Coke went crashing to the floor as the two idols moved but Koichi seemed much more concerned with his hands riding up the back of Tsubasa’s shirt than the mess they were making of his dressing room.
Clothes were shoved aside for better access as fingers and lips skimmed over skin hungrily. Koichi’s hands were rough against Tsubasa’s skin, fingers calloused from years of guitar and who knew what else, and the younger man found he liked the soft friction. Running across his collarbones, his shoulders, his neck, his face, and up into his hair. Anywhere and everywhere they could reach. Tsubasa breathed in deeply through his nose, not wanting to break their lip lock. They smelled of sweat and stage makeup, cologne and cigarette smoke.
Koichi’s fingers had just gone down to fiddle with the belt on Tsubasa’s suddenly-too-tight jeans when he heard-and felt-his phone go off in his pocket. Koichi didn’t seem too terribly distracted by it but Tsubasa was an entirely different story. The noise had managed to pierce the haze in Imai’s brain just enough to allow the realization that oh shit I am making out with Domoto ‘hands off’ Koichi ohshitohshitohshit. Full blown panic hadn’t set in just yet but it didn’t seem far off either.
He shouldn’t be doing this. This was wrong. But… he sort of wanted to. Scratch that, he really wanted to keep making out with the elder Domoto. Goodness knows he’d already spent one too many embarrassing, sweaty nights thinking about kissing him and more. That didn’t mean he should, though.
When faced between the options of figuring out the complications of continuing down this road with Koichi or stopping the shrill ringing in his pocket, Tsubasa chose the phone. He moved his lips to the side under the guise of kissing Koichi’s neck-the appreciative murmur he received nearly made him forget his plan all together in favor of eliciting more delighted sounds out of the smaller man-and fished the noisy device from his pocket to stare at the display.
“It’s Tackey.”
“Ignore it,” Koichi mumbled against Tsubasa’s cheek, nibbling playfully on his earlobe.
“He’ll just keep calling until I pick up.”
“So turn it off.”
Tsubasa frowned and pulled back, effectively cutting off the onslaught of tongue and lips and causing Koichi to release a frustrated sigh. During this time the phone had finally gone silent. It looked like the other man was going to say something to this effect when, sure enough, the ringing began anew a few seconds later, phone vibrating angrily in Tsubasa’s hand. Koichi threw his co-star a withering look before the offending unit was snatched away and flipped open. “Takizawa, if you don’t stop calling I’m going to fly over there personally and beat you with your own juniors.”
Tsubasa couldn’t help but laugh. He could picture Tackey clearly in his mind, surprised expression and everything. At least it helped him keep him distracted from the panicky cluster of conflicting emotions wadding up in his chest. In the meantime the younger man was busy staring at everything but the man sitting so close to him. Somehow in their exploring Koichi had wrapped his legs around Tsubasa’s waist. He’s also managed to unbutton Tsubasa’s shirt and push it back until it was almost entirely off his shoulders. Imai caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious, and somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the fact that he was blushing.
Koichi was growling something about Takizawa having to suffer seven different levels of hell for disrupting their special after hours practice and there was an edge to his voice that seemed to dare the man on the other end to call his bluff. Tsubasa could almost hear his partner’s flustered squawking and it made him smile. He almost felt sorry for his long-time friend. But considering the alternative, he’d rather let Koichi yell at Tackey than explain the real reason their senpai had picked up Tsubasa’s phone in the first place.
Another few minutes passed by in which Koichi pulled the intimidating senpai act and Tsubasa pointedly stared at everything that wasn’t Koichi before the call was ended and Tsubasa’s phone was returned to him along with a self-satisfied smirk. “He says to call him after you’re done.”
Tsubasa nodded, throat suddenly feeling drier than it had all day. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Koichi’s gaze for some reason. “A-ah.”
When he finally worked up the nerve to glance over at the other man he found that same watchful, unreadable expression on Koichi’s face. A hand found its way to Tsubasa’s hip, fingers rubbing along the skin just above the waist of Tsubasa’s jeans, but aside from this the older man made no other movements to continue their actions prior to the phone call. “Chin-chin?”
Tsubasa chuckled and ducked his head. Somehow the name felt suddenly even more ludicrous considering their current situation. His own fingers went to run along Koichi’s and when he spoke his voice was small and maybe more than a little sorry. “I should probably go.”
A heavy silence fell upon the two of them and Tsubasa was afraid for a moment that he’d done something terribly wrong. But then Koichi was tangling their fingers together, thumb running along the skin of Tsubasa’s wrist soothingly while his free hand went to lift Tsubasa’s chin gently. Koichi seemed to search his face for a few tense seconds before breaking into a warm smile, eyes crinkling up in that way that Tsubasa secretly thought was absolutely too adorable for words. Not his idol smile; his real one. “All right.”
With that Koichi released his hold on the younger man, allowing them to disentangle from each other and go about redressing themselves. Koichi had hopped down from the vanity and was observing the carnage of pots of makeup and his precious F1 magazines on the floor in what could only be described as regrettable capitulation. What could be immediately salvaged was placed back on the vanity though the remaining mess was still pretty formidable.
In the meantime Tsubasa had buttoned and tucked his shirt back into his jeans, running a hand through his hair in an effort to make himself look a little less like he’d just spent the past ten minutes making out wildly with his senpai. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Koichi was scribbling something on a scrap of paper and Tsubasa found himself floundering a little as to what exactly to say. Somehow ‘Thanks for the make out session; it was hot. See you tomorrow!’ didn’t sit entirely well with him.
Eventually Tsubasa settled on picking up his bag. It had barely been spared from getting thoroughly soaked in the Coke and foundation cocktail pooling under the abandoned chair and for this Tsubasa was thankful. Getting it cleaned would’ve been a pain in the ass; explaining how it had happened wouldn’t have been a walk in the park either.
“Well, um… see you tomorrow, Koichi-kun.” Oh, so smooth, Tsubasa.
He’d almost made it out when he heard Koichi’s voice call out his name. Not his nickname; not Imai-kun. “Tsubasa.”
Imai stopped abruptly, hand on the door knob. He nearly jumped when he felt Koichi’s hand on his elbow, pulling him down to press his cheek to Tsubasa’s own as he whispered in a husky baritone, “Thirty minutes.” Something was pressed into the palm of Imai’s hand and with a chaste kiss and a pat on the ass, Koichi ushered him out of the dressing room. The older man lingered in the doorway long enough to spare Tsubasa a cheeky grin before turning around and shutting the door with a soft click.
It took a few moments of Tsubasa staring at the closed door before he could collect himself. Had he just dreamt all of that, standing here in the hallway and staring at the faint glow creeping out from Koichi’s dressing room? But this thought was quickly put to rest when he opened his hand, revealing a slip of paper which, when unfolded, revealed a hotel name and what could only be a room number.
Refolding the paper it was tucked into his pocket and exchanged for his phone. The dancer made his way towards the back exit, hastily calling for a taxi. Despite himself, Tsubasa found himself smiling. It looks like Tackey would have to wait a little longer for that return phone call.
***
AAAAH THIS STORY ATE MY BRAIN! Was going to be dirtier but I lost my cojones somewhere in it so you get sort of maybe implied future smut? I don't know, I fail. Also if my Tsuba was rediculously off I apologize profusely. I tried, I really did!
I know Tsubasa had starred in other versions of SHOCK as well, but I haven't seen those yet so I mostly chose scenes from Endless SHOCK. And, yes, Koichi does on occasion call Tsubasa Chin-chin. Chin-chin ii, in fact. It's apparently how Tsubasa's name is pronounced in Taiwanese, I believe. And considering what chin-chin ii means in Japanese, I don't blame Koichi for finding it a hilarious nickname.
[Show Must Go On] -- koichi x tsubasa
Tsubasa was making his way out of the building when he noticed the light under Koichi's dressing room was still on. He stopped, the clicking of shoes against hard wood echoing and dying as he stared at the door in question. It wasn't the first time Domoto would be the last one to go home and, knowing Koichi's work-a-holic personality, most certainly was not going to be the last. Still the cacophony of sounds that usually came from Koichi's room was strangely absent, and it made him the tiniest bit curious.
Tsubasa could hear the little nagging voice in the back of his head telling him shouldn't bother Koichi. Go back to the hotel. Rest. Despite popular belief, Domoto-san can fend for himself. And yet, there he was, knocking on the dressing room door before opening it with a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "Koichi-kun?"
Inside, the room was strangely devoid of the normal bustle of people he had come to expect; no Juniors pestering their beloved senpai, no costumers or stagehands fussing over the show’s lead actor, no Musical Academy members trying to force feed their friend or coerce him into a rowdy game of cards or drag him out for drinks. Just Koichi, impossibly small and maybe just a little too thin, curled up in his chair with one leg resting on the vanity table in front of him. He briefly glanced upwards at the intrusion but simply spared Tsubasa an exhausted smile before returning to his slouched position. "Oh, Chin-chin."
Tsubasa grinned at the nickname. It was such a Koichi thing to do, insisting on using the most embarrassing name to address him. It was still a little irritating, but in a sort of affectionate, playful way. Tsubasa had long ago grown used to it. "You're still here?"
Koichi waved a hand feebly as he shrugged, gesturing to the mostly empty room as if to say Obviously.
"I thought MA would've kidnapped you by now."
That earned Imai another little grin, followed by a tiny laugh. "Akiyama tried. I told him that if he didn't leave me alone I was going to make him fall down the stairs. Twice. Without the knee pads."
The two men laughed and, ignoring the wary advice of his conscience, Tsubasa stepped into the room and approached his senpai. Save for the lights on the vanity the room was dim, but there was still enough light to clearly make out every little tired crease on Koichi’s face. As Imai came closer he noticed a couple pain relief patches poking out from beneath Koichi’s undershirt on his right side. Tsubasa frowned. “Are you okay?”
Koichi looked at him quizzically before following the line of Tsubasa’s sight. He managed a sheepish grin, hand going up to his shoulder and kneading the muscles there. “It’s nothing. Just a little sore from the drumming.”
The younger of the two men sighed. “Koichi-kun…” Working through your pain was another of Koichi’s more bothersome habits. Tsubasa placed his bag down on the ground and walked around behind the chair, swatting away Koichi’s hand before laying his own on Domoto’s shoulders and beginning to massage the flesh under his palms. The voice in his head had gone from calmly nagging to all but shrieking for him to get out now. He swallowed hard, willed his fingers not to shake, and ignored it. “You have to take better care of yourself.”
Koichi stiffened initially. But after a few moments of gentle manipulation by his kouhai, he found himself relaxing again. A distracted murmur was all Tsubasa got in response to his chastising.
Tsubasa could admit that, at first, he had been a little intimidated by Koichi. There was an almost untouchable air about him, an aura that whispered 'stay away' and barred any potential interlopers gutsy enough to try to get close to the jimusho’s resident prince. It wasn’t Koichi's actions and no one had ever explicitly told Tsubasa that the elder of the Domoto duo was far too far out of his reach; it’s just the first impression Imai had of him. And Tsubasa was rarely one to go against his gut instincts.
He had told Tackey about this once years later but his partner had only laughed and called Tsubasa a worrywart. Koichi was just another co-worker, albeit a very hard working and highly esteemed one. What was there to fear? Then again, Takizawa could probably make friends with a potted plant if he put his mind to it. Tsubasa was much more skittish. He didn’t dare tell Tsuyoshi. The younger Domoto would understand, no doubt. But still Tsubasa couldn’t bring himself to admit his uneasiness to Koichi’s partner of so many years.
It was in this manner that Tsubasa had long ago decided that Domoto Koichi was off limits. He wouldn’t go out of his way to avoid him but he wouldn’t actively seek his company out either, no matter how curious he was about the man. A task that, as fate would have it, would become increasingly harder for him to accomplish. Takizawa had long ago been declared Koichi’s protégé by anyone and everyone who cared for such things and being considered the younger brother and good friend of Tsuyoshi it was hard for Tsubasa to avoid hearing about the other KinKi Kid on a frequent basis. And then the co-starring role in SHOCK had come and the two of them were working together constantly for several months out of the year. Tsubasa didn’t know if he should curse his luck or secretly thank it.
Despite his initial anxieties, Tsubasa worked hard with the cast and staff to make this show a success. Scenes were reenacted until they were committed to memory; until Tsubasa could close his eyes and recreate every costume, set and facial expression perfectly, feel the light touches of the other actors’ and dancers’ and the heat from the house lights, hear the music and lines looping over and over again in his mind. Clearest of all were the images of his co-star and rival, little mental vignettes that followed him home from work and infiltrated his thoughts both waking and not. Koichi looking up into his eyes with an intensity that had shocked him the first time he witnessed it up close and personal, and still managed to make something clench funnily in his stomach to this day. Koichi dancing on stage with him, taunting him, flirting, gyrating. The feel of Koichi’s hand on Tsubasa’s back, warm and a little clammy, as he looked up into his eyes for forgiveness and the weight of Koichi’s thin frame as he held him, dying in his arms night after night after night.
It felt like the worst kind of seduction possible.
The younger man was doing his best not to dwell on these very thoughts-and failing-when Tsubasa’s thumb worked out an especially tricky knot, leaving Koichi groaning appreciatively. Tsubasa started at the noise, jerking his hands away. Not wanting to be glaringly obvious he placed his hands back with a laugh, though he found himself hoping desperately that the act of massaging would cover the slight tremor in his fingers.
Unfortunately, Koichi seemed to be having one of his more perceptive moments and leaned his head back inquisitively, staring up into Tsubasa’s face with a curious expression.
“It’s nothing,” Tsubasa said, putting on his best smile and hoping it wasn’t coming across as entirely fake though the effectiveness of it he doubted. When Koichi didn’t seem to buy the explanation fully he added, “I’m just thinking.” With this he gave a much more genuine, tired smile, looking down into Koichi’s watchful eyes.
Whatever Tsubasa had just done, the other man appeared to have been appeased by this action. His eyes crinkled up as he smiled, looking suddenly much younger than the usual aloof, princely aura he liked to give off. “You and Tsuyoshi really are alike.”
Tsubasa closed his eyes with a chuckle, continuing to knead Koichi’s shoulders. “Just how alike are we?” When he opened them again the childish smile on Koichi’s face had morphed into something strange, a faraway look in his eyes. He stayed like that for a few beats, lost in his own thoughts, and just when Tsubasa was going to laugh off his question as a joke Koichi tilted his head back to look up at the younger man. Dark eyes stared up at Tsubasa owlishly. One of the elder Domoto’s hands went to rest on one of Tsubasa’s own, thumb absently rubbing the skin of Tsubasa’s wrist.
“Maybe too much.”
Tsubasa felt his fingers stop and his breath hitch, unable to move. It was as if Koichi was consuming him with his eyes, could see everything, knew everything, and was privy to his every thought and feeling. Tsubasa licked his lips. His mouth was dry and it felt like he couldn’t remember how to breathe. He should’ve listened to his instincts. He should’ve run when he had the chance.
Wordlessly, Koichi arched his free arm up and back and Tsubasa leant in obediently. The sensation of fingers on the back of his neck caused him to shut his eyes as a shiver ran from the point of contact down the length of his spine. He could feel his head being guided downwards and when their lips touched it was soft and experimental and just a little bit awkward. Tsubasa’s free hand moved up to tentatively cup under Koichi’s chin and he could feel the stubble rub against his palm as he ghosted fingers along his jaw line.
He wasn’t sure which one of them ended the kiss; thinking seemed to be far too hard a task at the moment, happily taking a back seat to feeling. All he knew was that their faces were pulling away much sooner than he would’ve liked and eyes were opening to stare in wonder, Tsubasa’s full of disbelief over this new and unexpected development and Koichi’s laced with a dark something that could’ve been lust but might also have been loneliness. Tsubasa tried to stutter that he should be leaving but the words felt clumsy in his mouth and halfway into it Koichi had turned around fully in his seat and taken Tsubasa’s face into his hands to kiss him again. All thoughts of escape were quickly discarded.
And then it was as thought time had sped up rapidly. One second Tsubasa’s arms were reaching around Koichi’s small frame to pull him close and the next the two of them were pressed up against the vanity, Koichi hopping up on the table and Tsubasa planting himself firmly between the older man’s legs, mouths trying to devour one another. Makeup and magazines and the odd bottle of Coke went crashing to the floor as the two idols moved but Koichi seemed much more concerned with his hands riding up the back of Tsubasa’s shirt than the mess they were making of his dressing room.
Clothes were shoved aside for better access as fingers and lips skimmed over skin hungrily. Koichi’s hands were rough against Tsubasa’s skin, fingers calloused from years of guitar and who knew what else, and the younger man found he liked the soft friction. Running across his collarbones, his shoulders, his neck, his face, and up into his hair. Anywhere and everywhere they could reach. Tsubasa breathed in deeply through his nose, not wanting to break their lip lock. They smelled of sweat and stage makeup, cologne and cigarette smoke.
Koichi’s fingers had just gone down to fiddle with the belt on Tsubasa’s suddenly-too-tight jeans when he heard-and felt-his phone go off in his pocket. Koichi didn’t seem too terribly distracted by it but Tsubasa was an entirely different story. The noise had managed to pierce the haze in Imai’s brain just enough to allow the realization that oh shit I am making out with Domoto ‘hands off’ Koichi ohshitohshitohshit. Full blown panic hadn’t set in just yet but it didn’t seem far off either.
He shouldn’t be doing this. This was wrong. But… he sort of wanted to. Scratch that, he really wanted to keep making out with the elder Domoto. Goodness knows he’d already spent one too many embarrassing, sweaty nights thinking about kissing him and more. That didn’t mean he should, though.
When faced between the options of figuring out the complications of continuing down this road with Koichi or stopping the shrill ringing in his pocket, Tsubasa chose the phone. He moved his lips to the side under the guise of kissing Koichi’s neck-the appreciative murmur he received nearly made him forget his plan all together in favor of eliciting more delighted sounds out of the smaller man-and fished the noisy device from his pocket to stare at the display.
“It’s Tackey.”
“Ignore it,” Koichi mumbled against Tsubasa’s cheek, nibbling playfully on his earlobe.
“He’ll just keep calling until I pick up.”
“So turn it off.”
Tsubasa frowned and pulled back, effectively cutting off the onslaught of tongue and lips and causing Koichi to release a frustrated sigh. During this time the phone had finally gone silent. It looked like the other man was going to say something to this effect when, sure enough, the ringing began anew a few seconds later, phone vibrating angrily in Tsubasa’s hand. Koichi threw his co-star a withering look before the offending unit was snatched away and flipped open. “Takizawa, if you don’t stop calling I’m going to fly over there personally and beat you with your own juniors.”
Tsubasa couldn’t help but laugh. He could picture Tackey clearly in his mind, surprised expression and everything. At least it helped him keep him distracted from the panicky cluster of conflicting emotions wadding up in his chest. In the meantime the younger man was busy staring at everything but the man sitting so close to him. Somehow in their exploring Koichi had wrapped his legs around Tsubasa’s waist. He’s also managed to unbutton Tsubasa’s shirt and push it back until it was almost entirely off his shoulders. Imai caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious, and somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the fact that he was blushing.
Koichi was growling something about Takizawa having to suffer seven different levels of hell for disrupting their special after hours practice and there was an edge to his voice that seemed to dare the man on the other end to call his bluff. Tsubasa could almost hear his partner’s flustered squawking and it made him smile. He almost felt sorry for his long-time friend. But considering the alternative, he’d rather let Koichi yell at Tackey than explain the real reason their senpai had picked up Tsubasa’s phone in the first place.
Another few minutes passed by in which Koichi pulled the intimidating senpai act and Tsubasa pointedly stared at everything that wasn’t Koichi before the call was ended and Tsubasa’s phone was returned to him along with a self-satisfied smirk. “He says to call him after you’re done.”
Tsubasa nodded, throat suddenly feeling drier than it had all day. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Koichi’s gaze for some reason. “A-ah.”
When he finally worked up the nerve to glance over at the other man he found that same watchful, unreadable expression on Koichi’s face. A hand found its way to Tsubasa’s hip, fingers rubbing along the skin just above the waist of Tsubasa’s jeans, but aside from this the older man made no other movements to continue their actions prior to the phone call. “Chin-chin?”
Tsubasa chuckled and ducked his head. Somehow the name felt suddenly even more ludicrous considering their current situation. His own fingers went to run along Koichi’s and when he spoke his voice was small and maybe more than a little sorry. “I should probably go.”
A heavy silence fell upon the two of them and Tsubasa was afraid for a moment that he’d done something terribly wrong. But then Koichi was tangling their fingers together, thumb running along the skin of Tsubasa’s wrist soothingly while his free hand went to lift Tsubasa’s chin gently. Koichi seemed to search his face for a few tense seconds before breaking into a warm smile, eyes crinkling up in that way that Tsubasa secretly thought was absolutely too adorable for words. Not his idol smile; his real one. “All right.”
With that Koichi released his hold on the younger man, allowing them to disentangle from each other and go about redressing themselves. Koichi had hopped down from the vanity and was observing the carnage of pots of makeup and his precious F1 magazines on the floor in what could only be described as regrettable capitulation. What could be immediately salvaged was placed back on the vanity though the remaining mess was still pretty formidable.
In the meantime Tsubasa had buttoned and tucked his shirt back into his jeans, running a hand through his hair in an effort to make himself look a little less like he’d just spent the past ten minutes making out wildly with his senpai. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Koichi was scribbling something on a scrap of paper and Tsubasa found himself floundering a little as to what exactly to say. Somehow ‘Thanks for the make out session; it was hot. See you tomorrow!’ didn’t sit entirely well with him.
Eventually Tsubasa settled on picking up his bag. It had barely been spared from getting thoroughly soaked in the Coke and foundation cocktail pooling under the abandoned chair and for this Tsubasa was thankful. Getting it cleaned would’ve been a pain in the ass; explaining how it had happened wouldn’t have been a walk in the park either.
“Well, um… see you tomorrow, Koichi-kun.” Oh, so smooth, Tsubasa.
He’d almost made it out when he heard Koichi’s voice call out his name. Not his nickname; not Imai-kun. “Tsubasa.”
Imai stopped abruptly, hand on the door knob. He nearly jumped when he felt Koichi’s hand on his elbow, pulling him down to press his cheek to Tsubasa’s own as he whispered in a husky baritone, “Thirty minutes.” Something was pressed into the palm of Imai’s hand and with a chaste kiss and a pat on the ass, Koichi ushered him out of the dressing room. The older man lingered in the doorway long enough to spare Tsubasa a cheeky grin before turning around and shutting the door with a soft click.
It took a few moments of Tsubasa staring at the closed door before he could collect himself. Had he just dreamt all of that, standing here in the hallway and staring at the faint glow creeping out from Koichi’s dressing room? But this thought was quickly put to rest when he opened his hand, revealing a slip of paper which, when unfolded, revealed a hotel name and what could only be a room number.
Refolding the paper it was tucked into his pocket and exchanged for his phone. The dancer made his way towards the back exit, hastily calling for a taxi. Despite himself, Tsubasa found himself smiling. It looks like Tackey would have to wait a little longer for that return phone call.
***
AAAAH THIS STORY ATE MY BRAIN! Was going to be dirtier but I lost my cojones somewhere in it so you get sort of maybe implied future smut? I don't know, I fail. Also if my Tsuba was rediculously off I apologize profusely. I tried, I really did!
I know Tsubasa had starred in other versions of SHOCK as well, but I haven't seen those yet so I mostly chose scenes from Endless SHOCK. And, yes, Koichi does on occasion call Tsubasa Chin-chin. Chin-chin ii, in fact. It's apparently how Tsubasa's name is pronounced in Taiwanese, I believe. And considering what chin-chin ii means in Japanese, I don't blame Koichi for finding it a hilarious nickname.