[Sakumoto One-shot] Don’t I Deserve One Too?
Genre: Fluff
Disclaimer: Can’t claim credit for the boys, their fame and what nots, just this insane brain of mine.
Summary: Sho thinks it’s unfair the other three get Jun’s tsukkomi ring treatment, but not him.
A/N: Totally inspired by the Ousama no Branch promo SP they did on 10.04.2010 for the HnA SP. And if my missing AnS isn’t obvious enough, I had to include it in some form as well. Comments are love.
Word count: 903 words
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I’m a little surprised when Nino points out that the other three are in awe - or rather, in fear - of Jun's painful tsukkomi smacks.
Not that it’s anything new in the group, really.
Aiba’s been smacked by me when he cheerily pointed out the phallic-shaped mushroom we were all painfully trying to avoid mentioning on Shukudai. He’s had his turn with Nino too when the reputation of his family’s Chinese restaurant was at stake, “threatened” by the supposed abuse of the microwave. And Riida’s regularly been on the receiving end from any one of us with his half-a-moment-behind responses that crack us up more than anything else.
Except, it’s never really been our thing.
Verbal potshots at each other, Jun and I have taken. Innuendos that the others have had at our expense, I’ve lost count of those. Even my having to submissively return the reputedly DoS-tempered member his veggie-juice biscuit in the early days of Shukudai, I’ll defend as graciousness of the older person being more generous to a kouhai. But try as I may, I don’t recall his pulling that stunt on me; the one that the other three seem to cower from.
Which mollifies me, really.
Which is why I had to drag him aside after the shooting of the Ousama no Branch promo filming before I sacrifice any more grey matter. It was bound to give me a sleepless night - or more! - if I didn’t clear the air with Jun.
I’d even take the chance of an actual tsukkomi attack, just so I’ll know that I belong to the category of deserving his smacks.
“Sho-kun? Where’s the fire at?” the younger man seems a little amused at the speed at which I draw him into a dimly-lit, unoccupied room to avoid any interruption. Closing the door, I loosen my grip on his wrist, my feet taking me a couple of paces further into the room before I draw to a halt. Pivoting suddenly, I register that Jun is lazily lounged across two seats on the three-man couch in the centre of the room, one foot loosely crossed over the other as his arms are splayed along the arms of the couch, eyes watching my movements across the room.
“Mind telling me what we’re doing here when filming’s already done?” his voice holds no reproach, though I detect a hint of curiosity over my unusual behaviour.
“I just-,” I clear my throat, “I just had to ask you something.” No, my voice did not just rise an octave.
“What ever do you mean?” Jun says, looking at me with too-wide eyes.
My eyes narrow at the falsely-innocent undertone I hear in his words. Not taking my eyes away from his calm demeanour, I seat myself at the other end of the couch facing him, my back ramrod straight and arms crossed in front of me.
“How come the rest get to complain about your painful tsukkomis, but I don’t?” I ask with no preamble.
A ghost of a smile flits over Jun’s lips, and his next words cause me to flush a little.
“Are you trying to imply that you want to be smacked?”
“That- That’s not what I mean,” I defend myself hotly, even as I fight to keep the redness that I know must be crawling up past my neck and ears. “I just want to know why I get treated differently, that’s all.”
Jun sits up a little, resting his head lopsidedly on his wrist as he rests that elbow on the back of the couch. The look in his eyes is unreadable, as though he’s trying to decide just how much he wants to reveal to me.
The suspense is killing me and if the man doesn’t move or say something soon-
My thoughts freeze as Jun starts to practically prowl across the space between us on his hands and knees.
“Do you really want to know why I do that?” Jun’s voice hits a lower pitch and I unconsciously strain forward a little to make out the words. The air between us is rapidly shortening, as is my breath as Jun draws closer into my personal space.
Unconsciously, I push backwards into the cushions behind my back, but Jun shows no sign of stopping his advance. I inadvertently suppress a shiver as his lips brush the juncture between my jaw and ear.
“Do you want to know… the secret?” His words leave little puffs of air that tickle my nape and my eyes droop shut, nerves drawn taut, resisting the urge to jump on the taller yet leaner-built man. But distracted as I am in trying to regain control of my motor functions, I still catch the words he practically purrs in my ear.
“With you…” he breathes softly, “the smacks would probably be of a different kind, don’t you think?”
I feel his lips ghost even closer and I wonder if it’s my imagination that I feel his tongue tickle my earlobe, but before I can fully realize what’s happening, the couch is suddenly lighter. It takes a few moments, but I force my eyes open in surprise, only to see the back of his figure glide across to the exit and out the door.
My mind tries to play catch up, and when it does, I cannot help but burrow my head further into the couch, smothering the giggles in my throat as a goofy grin spreads over my face.
THE END