Comfort Zone [Oneshot]
Title: Comfort Zone
Originally Published: May 8, 2008
Pairing: Koyama/Shige
Genre: Fluff
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4,000
Summary: It's Kei's birthday, and he and Shige have a date. :3
Disclaimer: These events are not true (or so they would like us to believe).
Warnings: Mild Koyama verbal abuse, and Ryo has a potty mouth.
A/N: Woo, my first JE fanfic! Naturally it's a canon OTP and full of fannish tropes. :P Wtf I wrote this in present tense? I don't remember that at all. Ew and I used random Japanese, how shameful. At least it's only a little. Originally posted here.
Happy Birthday to Single-Eyelid
Koyama Keiichiro, freshly twenty-four years old this very day, laughs down at the display on his phone. He feels he should have known even Wagahai would somehow manage to get ahold of his owner’s phone to send him a birthday mail.
He is just about to reply when his phone jingles cheerfully at him once again-apparently said owner has managed to wrest the phone back from his mischievous cat.
Still on for 9pm?
Smiling, Koyama types in a quick affirmative reply before sliding his phone away, and hurries back to the set of his small photoshoot to prepare for his interview. It will be a quick one, but there are two more after this before he will be able to call it a day. Then it will be dinner with the family, and hopefully a breather (but likely a mad dash) before meeting up with Shige at nine.
He doesn’t mind one bit being busy on his birthday; if anything, it reminds him that what he is doing is truly worthwhile. And having so many strangers wishing him a good twenty-fourth year can do nothing but improve his already sky-high mood.
…Even as yet another fine layer cake, complete with complicated icing and fruit, is presented to him on set.
“Okay Koyama-kun, please enjoy your cake!”
Ignoring the way his stomach tightens, he grins over at the photographer and picks up one of the colourful forks set aside for him and hovers it over his fifth cake of the day. “Haaai~!”
---*---
The numbers 9:15P flash on his wristwatch; Koyama is running.
“You’re late,” Shige greets him at the station exit.
“So…sorry,” he pants out, bent double with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Were you waiting long?”
“Nah.” Shige decides to relent, and smiles down at his exhausted friend, decides not to tell him how he got here half an hour early-“just in case.” Hands behind his back, he asks how his birthday has been treating him so far.
“It’s rolled me over like an eighteen-wheeler, Shige!” Koyama laments, smiling as they start to walk the familiar path to Shige’s apartment. They both know he wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Although… you wouldn’t believe the amount of cake I’ve been made to eat today,” he adds, his light sigh genuine. “I almost didn’t want dinner! I don’t think I could even look at another cake until at least next year. You’d think the photographers would be able to come up with something more original than ‘birthday cake’ as a theme, ne? Or maybe this means I only look good when eating cake? Shige, I’m not getting typecast, am I?”
Shige, who has gone a little stiff beside him, doesn’t bother to meet his doleful brown eyes before shaking his head minutely. “Typecasting is for acting, not photoshoots, you idiot.”
“Ah… I guess it is.” Never bothering to deny that he is an idiot, Koyama only wonders why his friend suddenly looks so constipated. “What’s wrong, Shige? Do you need the bathroom? We’re almost to your apartment, hang in there!”
Shige blinks; then his frown deepens, grows more heated. “I’m not constipated, if that’s what you’re inferring!” he snaps, crossing his arms with a huff. “Let’s not forget you’re the old man here, Kei.”
But Koyama’s eyes have fallen away from Shige’s face, to land on the small bag whose handles rest around one of Shige’s wrists. He suddenly realizes that up until now, his friend’s hands have been resolutely behind his back, and is struck with a curiosity that forces his finger to point at its cause.
“What’s that?”
“Eh?” Shige looks down, balks a bit when he sees the bag out in plain view. He whips it back down to his side, the side that Koyama is not on, hoping he hadn’t had time to see the name scrawled boldly across the glossy paper. “Nothing.”
Neither of them is convinced.
“Come onnn, what is it? Is it for me?”
Shige grows more irritated at the amusement in Koyama’s voice as his friend gets noticeably more bouncy beside him. “Of course it’s not for you. I just found something better than a paper bag to carry my stuff around in, that’s all.”
Feigning reluctant acceptance of this explanation (and noting what was first on the list of Things To Buy Shige For His Birthday), Koyama lets the matter drop for approximately eight seconds. Then he moves swiftly behind Shige and nabs the bag right out of his grip.
“Hey!”
“You can’t hide such a promising-looking bag from someone when you come to meet him on his birthday,” is all Koyama says as he dances out of Shige’s reach, fingers already prying the sides of the bag apart to peer inside.
He knows it’s futile, but Shige never stops trying to do whatever he can to keep Koyama from looking into that bag. He really does have the worst luck.
“Eh? Heyyy, this isn’t a wallet. It’s not even keys.”
Shige doesn’t look at Koyama as he finally succeeds in snatching the bag back. “That’s why I said it’s nothing. You should listen to people when they talk.”
“Shige,” Koyama says with the patience of someone explaining something to a child. “It’s a cake.”
“…”
“It is, isn’t it?”
Shige says nothing. He wants to be able to deny it, but to do so when Koyama had already and most definitely seen it would be stupid.
“You bought it for me?”
“Who would do that?” he snaps finally, starting to move again along the path to his apartment as he clutches the offending bag tightly under one arm and with both hands. He curses the bakery and their blasted clear plastic take-away boxes. Whatever happened to nice, normal, non-see-through cardboard?
“Shigeee!” Koyama hurries to catch up. It doesn’t take long, and he falls in beside his friend’s quick steps. “Will you wait a minute? Mou, Shige!”
Annoyed into halting once again, Shige glares at Koyama. “What? You said you didn’t even want to look at another cake till next year, so don’t!”
“But I already looked at it anyway, so-“
“So you don’t have to worry about having to eat this one.”
“But if it’s the cake Shige bought for me, I want to eat it!”
Shige’s mouth is already open to send out another quick retort, but he finds that words have been struck out of his brain momentarily. He stares at Koyama, who stares back; nothing is said, but they both hear each other’s silent pleas for understanding.
Shige is the first to move, turning away from Koyama to walk at an easier pace. “Come on, we’re nearly there.” He doesn’t smile, but the tension is gone and Koyama understands; he smiles for them both, and slips his hands into his pockets as he walks with Shige.
---*---
“Ojamashimaaasu!”
Shige looks back at Koyama, who is taking his shoes off by the door while he himself toes into his slippers. “Aren’t you past having to say that when you come in?”
Koyama nods as he straightens up. “Mm, but I was saying it to Wagahai. It’s been a while since I’ve come to visit him.”
“Ah, it has. Now that you mention it, he’s been getting a little unbearable, going so long without Nyanta.” Shige walks over to the kitchen, sets the somewhat creased bag down on the table.
“Poor Wagahai! Well, you can come and visit Nyanta whenever you want, you know,” he calls out to the room at large.
“I’ve tried telling him that myself, but he’s really too stubborn and cowardly to go without an invite. Go sit, Kei, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Nodding again, Koyama turns to the living room and plops himself down on the sofa. He is quick and comfortable in taking up the remote and turning on the TV, even more so in beginning to click away from the news station on which Shige always leaves it.
By the time Shige comes into the room, two cups of hot tea in his hands, Koyama is laughing at a variety program.
“Here,” he hands Koyama his cup.
“Ah, Shige is so kind.” Koyama accepts the tea and takes a grateful sip, surprised when Shige joins him on the sofa. “Eh? But where’s the cake?”
Shige takes control of the remote, flipping to the DVD settings and hitting play on the movie waiting for them. “You need some time to digest, right? All those other cakes, and your dinner. It’s safe in the fridge, it can wait.”
Koyama is still for a heartbeat; then he smiles over at Shige, who is already paying more attention to the DVD settings than to him. “What are we watching?”
“Happy Feet.”
Koyama laughs. They’ve seen it before - everyone in NEWS has - but they never tire of making fun of Tegoshi’s voiceover performance. And no one ever admits it, but they like the story, too.
They both settle in as the familiar music starts to play, and soon neither of them can help their amused grins as they think of what’s to come.
---*---
The movie grooves into a finish, but neither of them see it.
Koyama had migrated to the floor about twenty minutes in, leaving Shige free to stretch out on his side along the sofa; Koyama had fallen asleep about an hour in, leaving Shige free to stare at his friend’s peacefully sleeping face.
He knows Koyama’s energy does, in fact, have its limits, however rarely they are actually reached. He also knows that this is simply a power nap, and that soon Koyama will be up and ready to go again.
But for now, Shige figures, the man can sleep.
With his head lolling to one side in front of his stomach. Gaping maybe just a little like a fish.
…And snoring.
Shige suddenly figures that Koyama has had enough of a nap, and jabs his finger into his friend’s dark hair.
“Ah itai,” Koyama mumbles sleepily, head falling forward as his hand goes to the back of his head.
“Aitai?” Shige repeats. “Open your eyes then.”
Koyama pauses, blinks; then he looks up at Shige, utterly lost. “What?”
Shige laughs, calls Koyama an idiot again; Koyama replies with a swift smack to his leg, the only limb immediately in reach from his position on the floor.
“Shige is mean! Waking his Kei-chan up and then making him confused.”
“Like you need my help in that area,” Shige says with a sardonic look. “And whose Kei-chan?”
“Yours, though I can’t say for how much longer if such abuse continues!”
Rolling his eyes, Shige prods Koyama’s head again, more lightly this time. “Whatever. The movie’s over, you missed Tesshi’s triumphant return.”
“Eh?” Koyama’s gaze flickers over to the TV, which shows only the disc menu. “Ah! Noo, that’s my favourite part! Shige, why didn’t you wake me up?”
Shige stares blankly at his friend for a beat, realizes he means it. “Weren’t you just complaining about that? Not one minute ago?”
“The waking up is fine, it’s the confusing-your-Kei-chan that I don’t like!”
“You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”
Koyama puffs his face out indignantly, then sticks his tongue out at Shige, still not arguing that point. Shige pokes his cheek, and a brief war is waged on the sofa.
---*---
Two hours later, they are still laughing over some old jokes as they ignore the TV, both laying flat on their stomachs on the floor. For a moment, Shige’s mind steps back and takes in their situation, and he wonders just how this is all possible-to be so at ease in another person’s company, to have been this way for years, and to be unable to see an end to it in the future, near or distant. To be unable to grow tired of each other.
But it’s late, and Shige’s mind does weird things after midnight; he reels it back in quickly, and finds it was only gone for a split second anyway.
---*---
A quiet moment descends upon them; they’re on the sofa again, Koyama half-sprawled over Shige as they stare somewhat vacantly at the television. It’s a comfortable silence, though, as with everything between them.
Something jars Shige’s mind awake, and he shifts a little under the weight of Koyama’s torso. “Ah… that’s right,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You have room in your stomach yet?”
Koyama turns his face up to Shige’s, brows rising in question until he realizes what the younger man means. He yawns faintly, ending in a soft smile. “I told you, I had room for Shige’s cake even when I first saw it, didn’t I?”
Too tired and comfortable to bother calling him and idiot some more, Shige only agrees vaguely before easing himself up from under his friend. “Wait a bit, then,” he says, heading into the kitchen.
Koyama nods and leans his head in the palm of his hand, watching Shige move as he goes. Koyama’s brain does weird things after midnight, too, but it is far less inclined to clue him in on what those things are than Shige’s is; he is left only with an indistinct sense of wondering as he turns back to the TV.
When Shige returns, it is with the bakery bag hooked around his forearm and another two cups of tea, brewed simply because the thought of having cake without tea is too foreign for either of them. He sets the cups down first, Koyama nodding his thanks as Shige sits across from him at the small coffee table, and finally takes the cake out of its packaging with no ceremony whatsoever; neither of them need nor expect it.
Koyama finally sees the cake in all its glory, and blinks twice. “Eh?”
Shige frowns. “‘Eh?’ What ‘eh,’ what’s wrong with it?”
Realizing what it sounds like, Koyama’s smile is quick to smooth things over. “Ah, nothing, of course. It just wasn’t what I expected.”
A haughty gleam appears in Shige’s dark eyes, and he half-smirks down at the simple roll cake just big enough for two as he removes the plastic lid. “What, you thought I would dump another eight-layer icing explosion in your lap? You like this flavour, don’t you?”
The delicate aroma of lightly sweetened and almost weightless cream wafts slowly over to Koyama’s nose, bringing with it just a hint of the green tea that resides in the cake itself. He is smiling more widely without realizing it. “Mm… my favourite.”
Shige’s real smile returns then, and he promptly hands the birthday boy a fork. “Sorry there’s no writing on it, but I didn’t think you’d need it spelled out on a cake for you to know it’s your birthday.”
Koyama shakes his head enthusiastically, readying his fork to attack his prize. It is oddly fitting, he muses; undecorated, simple, and just enough.
“Happy birthday, Kei.”
Koyama’s smile grows at the words as he checks the clock above the TV. “You’re late, you know, it’s not my birthday anymore. Even Wagahai managed to get it in on the right day.”
“Hn. He was supposed to send it from both of us. What a lazy cat.”
“Well, you do spoil him, Shige.”
“Ah, I guess I do.”
“…Can we eat now?”
“It’s your cake, Kei, eat whenever you want.”
“Well, if you don’t start at the same time as me, I’m going to eat it all, ne~”
Shige sighs, relents. “Alright, fine. Since it’s not your birthday anymore, I won’t let you have the first bite.”
“Eh?! Shige-!” But Shige’s fork is fast for a Serious Law Student, and a small bite of cake is already in his mouth by the time Koyama protests. After a sulking vow to make his friend stop hanging out with Ryo in his free time, Koyama joins in the contented cake consumption.
They work their way toward the middle from their opposite ends of the small roll, in between sips of tea, stories, and laughter. It is a small cake to go with the tiny tea cups, but they make it last.
They are engaging in an absent minded fork fight on the empty plate when Koyama looks up into Shige’s dark eyes that are shining with humour; it is a sight he has had the privilege of seeing many a time before, but this time rather than making him smile back, it makes him grow still.
His gaze slides down to the table between them, and he sees how their free hands have gravitated towards each other; and Koyama only thinks right then of how glad he is that Shige is left handed. That thought leads to another one, a novel idea that suddenly makes things click into place, and he looks at Shige with quiet surprise when he realizes his hand has covered the younger man’s of its own accord.
“Shige…”
For his part, Shige notices the difference in the air around them immediately, the sudden strange tension that cuts through their usual comfort bubble. There is a seriousness in Koyama’s manner at odds with the way he whispers his name softly, as though he is seeing Shige for the first time in a long time. His hand tenses under Koyama’s, but he can’t bring himself to reclaim it.
He swallows, and forces his brain to stop working; because he knows if he lets it race down any line of thought right now, he will pull away, he will break the strange spell that has descended upon them from whatever mysterious source.
Why he wants to prolong the feeling, the discomfort, is not something he can think about right now. But more than that, he is afraid of what will happen if he expects anything.
So he shuts everything off, so that there is nothing left except Koyama suddenly leaning forward across the narrow table, so that he can let his breath get stolen away in an instant when soft and lovely lips press warmly to his own.
His eyes are shut and he is already returning the kiss, because he has made sure that none of the hundreds of reasons for why this should not be happening right now can get through to his mind. Neither of them can see past this one moment-neither of them is looking.
Shige feels Koyama’s hand cupping his face as the older man just grazes his bottom lip with his tongue, and he suddenly becomes conscious of the fact that their hands are still connected on the tabletop. He tenses his hand again, but this time only to turn up his palm. He links their fingers awkwardly, fumbling, but Koyama only answers with a tightening of his grip; he understands.
It is uncertain which of them actually breaks the kiss; they both seem to come up for air at the same time. Shige has come forward almost halfway across the table, and Koyama uses the proximity to tuck his head just under Shige’s chin, effectively hiding his face. Shige is glad for it; he doesn’t think he can look Koyama in the eye just yet.
Or rather, he doesn’t want to.
He knows if he does, everything will come rushing back, and everything that just happened will have to be erased. He is afraid for what they both might lose if they don’t erase it; but more than that, he is afraid of what it might mean if neither of them care about what they might lose.
Which was worse: Losing something or throwing it away?
“Shige.”
Koyama’s voice interrupts the thoughts Shige hadn’t even realized he’d already failed in not thinking, and he screws his eyes shut as he feels Koyama straighten up. He can still feel the light heat radiating from his friend’s face, though; just as he can feel Koyama’s eyes are on him. He waits for him to continue, to say something he knows they’ll likely both regret…
“It tasted like green tea roll cake, didn’t it?”
…Shige’s eyes are coaxed open at the question, and they stare at Koyama with slow incredulity.
“…I can’t even begin to think of a way to respond to that,” he says honestly enough.
“It did, didn’t it!” Koyama grins and suddenly makes his way around the table to Shige’s side. Shige can only stare as his friend plops down next to him, then unceremoniously grabs both his shoulders and pins him to the carpeted floor.
“Ke…Kei?!” Shige doesn’t have time to do more than raise his arms vaguely upwards in an attempt to do… something. He has no idea what, because now Koyama, his warm and smiley Kei-chan, is giving him a hungry and smouldering look that twists his stomach into knots. He unconsciously wets his lips.
“My favourite,” Koyama says before coming down to press their lips together again.
Shige is frozen for a few moments; then Koyama bites down, and his lips part in a quiet hiss that allows his friend’s tongue inside to get at every sweet remnant of the lingering taste.
He has enough brain power left for one thought:
He’s right. It does taste like green tea roll cake…
And then he blissfully thinks nothing at all.
---*---
A few days later, NEWS has a photoshoot for Potato. The theme is Summer HEAT, Summer COOL, according to the large prints that make up the backdrop.
The director is having some difficulties with Shige, and, surprisingly, Koyama.
“Kato! Koyama! This is not AnAn, please remember that!”
Shige has the grace to look at least a little uncomfortable, if not abashed; Koyama only shrugs with a carefree smile worthy of Tegoshi himself, but obliges the fretting director by removing his hand from under Shige’s shirt and tugging the fabric back down.
“They sure have upped the fanservice lately, haven’t they?” Tegoshi remarks, shooting a mildly concerned look at Leader, who he has been paired with. Massu ignores the hubbub around him and remains off to the side, at the snack table.
Yamapi ‘mm’s vaguely, lifting his head in a nod as he watches Shige and Koyama work. The slide of Koyama’s hand up and under the back of Shige’s shirt, where the camera can’t see, does not go missed.
“God,” Ryo chimes in from Yamapi’s other side, disgust rolling off his poisonous tongue.
“Yes?”
Tegoshi only answers Ryo’s withering glare with a giggle before prancing off to check on the preparations for his and Yamapi’s shoot.
Ryo shakes his head, and suddenly wants a cigarette break. “I thought Shige was supposed to be smart.”
Yamapi finally slides his gaze onto his shorter friend. “You think he isn’t?”
“Look at how obvious they’re being!” Ryo hisses, crossing his arms coolly across his chest. “A pair of idiots; they deserve each other.”
“It’s cute, ne.”
“Oh yeah, it’ll be fucking adorable when Johnny-san finds out.”
“I meant, it’s cute how Ryo-chan is worried about his friends getting into trouble.”
Massu, who has gone unnoticed as usual because of his silent and persistent eating habits, pauses in downing onigiri long enough to toss in his own two cents. “All of KAT-TUN is pretty obvious, and they haven’t gotten into trouble yet. And I don’t think Shige would let Kei-chan do him on stage.”
Ryo glowers silently between the other two for a moment, then points a finger in Yamapi’s face. “If any more people leave this group, I’m moving permanently to Eito, Pi. I’m not taking on any more slackers’ parts in the songs!”
Ryo stalks off and frightens the makeup artists and a few other innocent bystanders, and Yamapi finally smiles. He lifts his hand to cup it around his mouth so that Koyama can hear him over the pleas of the director.
“Gambatte ne, Kei-chan! With your member ai!”
Koyama looks over curiously from fondling the nape of Shige’s neck, and beams. “Haaai~!”
END
Originally Published: May 8, 2008
Pairing: Koyama/Shige
Genre: Fluff
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4,000
Summary: It's Kei's birthday, and he and Shige have a date. :3
Disclaimer: These events are not true (or so they would like us to believe).
Warnings: Mild Koyama verbal abuse, and Ryo has a potty mouth.
A/N: Woo, my first JE fanfic! Naturally it's a canon OTP and full of fannish tropes. :P Wtf I wrote this in present tense? I don't remember that at all. Ew and I used random Japanese, how shameful. At least it's only a little. Originally posted here.
Happy Birthday to Single-Eyelid
Koyama Keiichiro, freshly twenty-four years old this very day, laughs down at the display on his phone. He feels he should have known even Wagahai would somehow manage to get ahold of his owner’s phone to send him a birthday mail.
He is just about to reply when his phone jingles cheerfully at him once again-apparently said owner has managed to wrest the phone back from his mischievous cat.
Still on for 9pm?
Smiling, Koyama types in a quick affirmative reply before sliding his phone away, and hurries back to the set of his small photoshoot to prepare for his interview. It will be a quick one, but there are two more after this before he will be able to call it a day. Then it will be dinner with the family, and hopefully a breather (but likely a mad dash) before meeting up with Shige at nine.
He doesn’t mind one bit being busy on his birthday; if anything, it reminds him that what he is doing is truly worthwhile. And having so many strangers wishing him a good twenty-fourth year can do nothing but improve his already sky-high mood.
…Even as yet another fine layer cake, complete with complicated icing and fruit, is presented to him on set.
“Okay Koyama-kun, please enjoy your cake!”
Ignoring the way his stomach tightens, he grins over at the photographer and picks up one of the colourful forks set aside for him and hovers it over his fifth cake of the day. “Haaai~!”
---*---
The numbers 9:15P flash on his wristwatch; Koyama is running.
“You’re late,” Shige greets him at the station exit.
“So…sorry,” he pants out, bent double with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Were you waiting long?”
“Nah.” Shige decides to relent, and smiles down at his exhausted friend, decides not to tell him how he got here half an hour early-“just in case.” Hands behind his back, he asks how his birthday has been treating him so far.
“It’s rolled me over like an eighteen-wheeler, Shige!” Koyama laments, smiling as they start to walk the familiar path to Shige’s apartment. They both know he wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Although… you wouldn’t believe the amount of cake I’ve been made to eat today,” he adds, his light sigh genuine. “I almost didn’t want dinner! I don’t think I could even look at another cake until at least next year. You’d think the photographers would be able to come up with something more original than ‘birthday cake’ as a theme, ne? Or maybe this means I only look good when eating cake? Shige, I’m not getting typecast, am I?”
Shige, who has gone a little stiff beside him, doesn’t bother to meet his doleful brown eyes before shaking his head minutely. “Typecasting is for acting, not photoshoots, you idiot.”
“Ah… I guess it is.” Never bothering to deny that he is an idiot, Koyama only wonders why his friend suddenly looks so constipated. “What’s wrong, Shige? Do you need the bathroom? We’re almost to your apartment, hang in there!”
Shige blinks; then his frown deepens, grows more heated. “I’m not constipated, if that’s what you’re inferring!” he snaps, crossing his arms with a huff. “Let’s not forget you’re the old man here, Kei.”
But Koyama’s eyes have fallen away from Shige’s face, to land on the small bag whose handles rest around one of Shige’s wrists. He suddenly realizes that up until now, his friend’s hands have been resolutely behind his back, and is struck with a curiosity that forces his finger to point at its cause.
“What’s that?”
“Eh?” Shige looks down, balks a bit when he sees the bag out in plain view. He whips it back down to his side, the side that Koyama is not on, hoping he hadn’t had time to see the name scrawled boldly across the glossy paper. “Nothing.”
Neither of them is convinced.
“Come onnn, what is it? Is it for me?”
Shige grows more irritated at the amusement in Koyama’s voice as his friend gets noticeably more bouncy beside him. “Of course it’s not for you. I just found something better than a paper bag to carry my stuff around in, that’s all.”
Feigning reluctant acceptance of this explanation (and noting what was first on the list of Things To Buy Shige For His Birthday), Koyama lets the matter drop for approximately eight seconds. Then he moves swiftly behind Shige and nabs the bag right out of his grip.
“Hey!”
“You can’t hide such a promising-looking bag from someone when you come to meet him on his birthday,” is all Koyama says as he dances out of Shige’s reach, fingers already prying the sides of the bag apart to peer inside.
He knows it’s futile, but Shige never stops trying to do whatever he can to keep Koyama from looking into that bag. He really does have the worst luck.
“Eh? Heyyy, this isn’t a wallet. It’s not even keys.”
Shige doesn’t look at Koyama as he finally succeeds in snatching the bag back. “That’s why I said it’s nothing. You should listen to people when they talk.”
“Shige,” Koyama says with the patience of someone explaining something to a child. “It’s a cake.”
“…”
“It is, isn’t it?”
Shige says nothing. He wants to be able to deny it, but to do so when Koyama had already and most definitely seen it would be stupid.
“You bought it for me?”
“Who would do that?” he snaps finally, starting to move again along the path to his apartment as he clutches the offending bag tightly under one arm and with both hands. He curses the bakery and their blasted clear plastic take-away boxes. Whatever happened to nice, normal, non-see-through cardboard?
“Shigeee!” Koyama hurries to catch up. It doesn’t take long, and he falls in beside his friend’s quick steps. “Will you wait a minute? Mou, Shige!”
Annoyed into halting once again, Shige glares at Koyama. “What? You said you didn’t even want to look at another cake till next year, so don’t!”
“But I already looked at it anyway, so-“
“So you don’t have to worry about having to eat this one.”
“But if it’s the cake Shige bought for me, I want to eat it!”
Shige’s mouth is already open to send out another quick retort, but he finds that words have been struck out of his brain momentarily. He stares at Koyama, who stares back; nothing is said, but they both hear each other’s silent pleas for understanding.
Shige is the first to move, turning away from Koyama to walk at an easier pace. “Come on, we’re nearly there.” He doesn’t smile, but the tension is gone and Koyama understands; he smiles for them both, and slips his hands into his pockets as he walks with Shige.
---*---
“Ojamashimaaasu!”
Shige looks back at Koyama, who is taking his shoes off by the door while he himself toes into his slippers. “Aren’t you past having to say that when you come in?”
Koyama nods as he straightens up. “Mm, but I was saying it to Wagahai. It’s been a while since I’ve come to visit him.”
“Ah, it has. Now that you mention it, he’s been getting a little unbearable, going so long without Nyanta.” Shige walks over to the kitchen, sets the somewhat creased bag down on the table.
“Poor Wagahai! Well, you can come and visit Nyanta whenever you want, you know,” he calls out to the room at large.
“I’ve tried telling him that myself, but he’s really too stubborn and cowardly to go without an invite. Go sit, Kei, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Nodding again, Koyama turns to the living room and plops himself down on the sofa. He is quick and comfortable in taking up the remote and turning on the TV, even more so in beginning to click away from the news station on which Shige always leaves it.
By the time Shige comes into the room, two cups of hot tea in his hands, Koyama is laughing at a variety program.
“Here,” he hands Koyama his cup.
“Ah, Shige is so kind.” Koyama accepts the tea and takes a grateful sip, surprised when Shige joins him on the sofa. “Eh? But where’s the cake?”
Shige takes control of the remote, flipping to the DVD settings and hitting play on the movie waiting for them. “You need some time to digest, right? All those other cakes, and your dinner. It’s safe in the fridge, it can wait.”
Koyama is still for a heartbeat; then he smiles over at Shige, who is already paying more attention to the DVD settings than to him. “What are we watching?”
“Happy Feet.”
Koyama laughs. They’ve seen it before - everyone in NEWS has - but they never tire of making fun of Tegoshi’s voiceover performance. And no one ever admits it, but they like the story, too.
They both settle in as the familiar music starts to play, and soon neither of them can help their amused grins as they think of what’s to come.
---*---
The movie grooves into a finish, but neither of them see it.
Koyama had migrated to the floor about twenty minutes in, leaving Shige free to stretch out on his side along the sofa; Koyama had fallen asleep about an hour in, leaving Shige free to stare at his friend’s peacefully sleeping face.
He knows Koyama’s energy does, in fact, have its limits, however rarely they are actually reached. He also knows that this is simply a power nap, and that soon Koyama will be up and ready to go again.
But for now, Shige figures, the man can sleep.
With his head lolling to one side in front of his stomach. Gaping maybe just a little like a fish.
…And snoring.
Shige suddenly figures that Koyama has had enough of a nap, and jabs his finger into his friend’s dark hair.
“Ah itai,” Koyama mumbles sleepily, head falling forward as his hand goes to the back of his head.
“Aitai?” Shige repeats. “Open your eyes then.”
Koyama pauses, blinks; then he looks up at Shige, utterly lost. “What?”
Shige laughs, calls Koyama an idiot again; Koyama replies with a swift smack to his leg, the only limb immediately in reach from his position on the floor.
“Shige is mean! Waking his Kei-chan up and then making him confused.”
“Like you need my help in that area,” Shige says with a sardonic look. “And whose Kei-chan?”
“Yours, though I can’t say for how much longer if such abuse continues!”
Rolling his eyes, Shige prods Koyama’s head again, more lightly this time. “Whatever. The movie’s over, you missed Tesshi’s triumphant return.”
“Eh?” Koyama’s gaze flickers over to the TV, which shows only the disc menu. “Ah! Noo, that’s my favourite part! Shige, why didn’t you wake me up?”
Shige stares blankly at his friend for a beat, realizes he means it. “Weren’t you just complaining about that? Not one minute ago?”
“The waking up is fine, it’s the confusing-your-Kei-chan that I don’t like!”
“You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”
Koyama puffs his face out indignantly, then sticks his tongue out at Shige, still not arguing that point. Shige pokes his cheek, and a brief war is waged on the sofa.
---*---
Two hours later, they are still laughing over some old jokes as they ignore the TV, both laying flat on their stomachs on the floor. For a moment, Shige’s mind steps back and takes in their situation, and he wonders just how this is all possible-to be so at ease in another person’s company, to have been this way for years, and to be unable to see an end to it in the future, near or distant. To be unable to grow tired of each other.
But it’s late, and Shige’s mind does weird things after midnight; he reels it back in quickly, and finds it was only gone for a split second anyway.
---*---
A quiet moment descends upon them; they’re on the sofa again, Koyama half-sprawled over Shige as they stare somewhat vacantly at the television. It’s a comfortable silence, though, as with everything between them.
Something jars Shige’s mind awake, and he shifts a little under the weight of Koyama’s torso. “Ah… that’s right,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You have room in your stomach yet?”
Koyama turns his face up to Shige’s, brows rising in question until he realizes what the younger man means. He yawns faintly, ending in a soft smile. “I told you, I had room for Shige’s cake even when I first saw it, didn’t I?”
Too tired and comfortable to bother calling him and idiot some more, Shige only agrees vaguely before easing himself up from under his friend. “Wait a bit, then,” he says, heading into the kitchen.
Koyama nods and leans his head in the palm of his hand, watching Shige move as he goes. Koyama’s brain does weird things after midnight, too, but it is far less inclined to clue him in on what those things are than Shige’s is; he is left only with an indistinct sense of wondering as he turns back to the TV.
When Shige returns, it is with the bakery bag hooked around his forearm and another two cups of tea, brewed simply because the thought of having cake without tea is too foreign for either of them. He sets the cups down first, Koyama nodding his thanks as Shige sits across from him at the small coffee table, and finally takes the cake out of its packaging with no ceremony whatsoever; neither of them need nor expect it.
Koyama finally sees the cake in all its glory, and blinks twice. “Eh?”
Shige frowns. “‘Eh?’ What ‘eh,’ what’s wrong with it?”
Realizing what it sounds like, Koyama’s smile is quick to smooth things over. “Ah, nothing, of course. It just wasn’t what I expected.”
A haughty gleam appears in Shige’s dark eyes, and he half-smirks down at the simple roll cake just big enough for two as he removes the plastic lid. “What, you thought I would dump another eight-layer icing explosion in your lap? You like this flavour, don’t you?”
The delicate aroma of lightly sweetened and almost weightless cream wafts slowly over to Koyama’s nose, bringing with it just a hint of the green tea that resides in the cake itself. He is smiling more widely without realizing it. “Mm… my favourite.”
Shige’s real smile returns then, and he promptly hands the birthday boy a fork. “Sorry there’s no writing on it, but I didn’t think you’d need it spelled out on a cake for you to know it’s your birthday.”
Koyama shakes his head enthusiastically, readying his fork to attack his prize. It is oddly fitting, he muses; undecorated, simple, and just enough.
“Happy birthday, Kei.”
Koyama’s smile grows at the words as he checks the clock above the TV. “You’re late, you know, it’s not my birthday anymore. Even Wagahai managed to get it in on the right day.”
“Hn. He was supposed to send it from both of us. What a lazy cat.”
“Well, you do spoil him, Shige.”
“Ah, I guess I do.”
“…Can we eat now?”
“It’s your cake, Kei, eat whenever you want.”
“Well, if you don’t start at the same time as me, I’m going to eat it all, ne~”
Shige sighs, relents. “Alright, fine. Since it’s not your birthday anymore, I won’t let you have the first bite.”
“Eh?! Shige-!” But Shige’s fork is fast for a Serious Law Student, and a small bite of cake is already in his mouth by the time Koyama protests. After a sulking vow to make his friend stop hanging out with Ryo in his free time, Koyama joins in the contented cake consumption.
They work their way toward the middle from their opposite ends of the small roll, in between sips of tea, stories, and laughter. It is a small cake to go with the tiny tea cups, but they make it last.
They are engaging in an absent minded fork fight on the empty plate when Koyama looks up into Shige’s dark eyes that are shining with humour; it is a sight he has had the privilege of seeing many a time before, but this time rather than making him smile back, it makes him grow still.
His gaze slides down to the table between them, and he sees how their free hands have gravitated towards each other; and Koyama only thinks right then of how glad he is that Shige is left handed. That thought leads to another one, a novel idea that suddenly makes things click into place, and he looks at Shige with quiet surprise when he realizes his hand has covered the younger man’s of its own accord.
“Shige…”
For his part, Shige notices the difference in the air around them immediately, the sudden strange tension that cuts through their usual comfort bubble. There is a seriousness in Koyama’s manner at odds with the way he whispers his name softly, as though he is seeing Shige for the first time in a long time. His hand tenses under Koyama’s, but he can’t bring himself to reclaim it.
He swallows, and forces his brain to stop working; because he knows if he lets it race down any line of thought right now, he will pull away, he will break the strange spell that has descended upon them from whatever mysterious source.
Why he wants to prolong the feeling, the discomfort, is not something he can think about right now. But more than that, he is afraid of what will happen if he expects anything.
So he shuts everything off, so that there is nothing left except Koyama suddenly leaning forward across the narrow table, so that he can let his breath get stolen away in an instant when soft and lovely lips press warmly to his own.
His eyes are shut and he is already returning the kiss, because he has made sure that none of the hundreds of reasons for why this should not be happening right now can get through to his mind. Neither of them can see past this one moment-neither of them is looking.
Shige feels Koyama’s hand cupping his face as the older man just grazes his bottom lip with his tongue, and he suddenly becomes conscious of the fact that their hands are still connected on the tabletop. He tenses his hand again, but this time only to turn up his palm. He links their fingers awkwardly, fumbling, but Koyama only answers with a tightening of his grip; he understands.
It is uncertain which of them actually breaks the kiss; they both seem to come up for air at the same time. Shige has come forward almost halfway across the table, and Koyama uses the proximity to tuck his head just under Shige’s chin, effectively hiding his face. Shige is glad for it; he doesn’t think he can look Koyama in the eye just yet.
Or rather, he doesn’t want to.
He knows if he does, everything will come rushing back, and everything that just happened will have to be erased. He is afraid for what they both might lose if they don’t erase it; but more than that, he is afraid of what it might mean if neither of them care about what they might lose.
Which was worse: Losing something or throwing it away?
“Shige.”
Koyama’s voice interrupts the thoughts Shige hadn’t even realized he’d already failed in not thinking, and he screws his eyes shut as he feels Koyama straighten up. He can still feel the light heat radiating from his friend’s face, though; just as he can feel Koyama’s eyes are on him. He waits for him to continue, to say something he knows they’ll likely both regret…
“It tasted like green tea roll cake, didn’t it?”
…Shige’s eyes are coaxed open at the question, and they stare at Koyama with slow incredulity.
“…I can’t even begin to think of a way to respond to that,” he says honestly enough.
“It did, didn’t it!” Koyama grins and suddenly makes his way around the table to Shige’s side. Shige can only stare as his friend plops down next to him, then unceremoniously grabs both his shoulders and pins him to the carpeted floor.
“Ke…Kei?!” Shige doesn’t have time to do more than raise his arms vaguely upwards in an attempt to do… something. He has no idea what, because now Koyama, his warm and smiley Kei-chan, is giving him a hungry and smouldering look that twists his stomach into knots. He unconsciously wets his lips.
“My favourite,” Koyama says before coming down to press their lips together again.
Shige is frozen for a few moments; then Koyama bites down, and his lips part in a quiet hiss that allows his friend’s tongue inside to get at every sweet remnant of the lingering taste.
He has enough brain power left for one thought:
He’s right. It does taste like green tea roll cake…
And then he blissfully thinks nothing at all.
---*---
A few days later, NEWS has a photoshoot for Potato. The theme is Summer HEAT, Summer COOL, according to the large prints that make up the backdrop.
The director is having some difficulties with Shige, and, surprisingly, Koyama.
“Kato! Koyama! This is not AnAn, please remember that!”
Shige has the grace to look at least a little uncomfortable, if not abashed; Koyama only shrugs with a carefree smile worthy of Tegoshi himself, but obliges the fretting director by removing his hand from under Shige’s shirt and tugging the fabric back down.
“They sure have upped the fanservice lately, haven’t they?” Tegoshi remarks, shooting a mildly concerned look at Leader, who he has been paired with. Massu ignores the hubbub around him and remains off to the side, at the snack table.
Yamapi ‘mm’s vaguely, lifting his head in a nod as he watches Shige and Koyama work. The slide of Koyama’s hand up and under the back of Shige’s shirt, where the camera can’t see, does not go missed.
“God,” Ryo chimes in from Yamapi’s other side, disgust rolling off his poisonous tongue.
“Yes?”
Tegoshi only answers Ryo’s withering glare with a giggle before prancing off to check on the preparations for his and Yamapi’s shoot.
Ryo shakes his head, and suddenly wants a cigarette break. “I thought Shige was supposed to be smart.”
Yamapi finally slides his gaze onto his shorter friend. “You think he isn’t?”
“Look at how obvious they’re being!” Ryo hisses, crossing his arms coolly across his chest. “A pair of idiots; they deserve each other.”
“It’s cute, ne.”
“Oh yeah, it’ll be fucking adorable when Johnny-san finds out.”
“I meant, it’s cute how Ryo-chan is worried about his friends getting into trouble.”
Massu, who has gone unnoticed as usual because of his silent and persistent eating habits, pauses in downing onigiri long enough to toss in his own two cents. “All of KAT-TUN is pretty obvious, and they haven’t gotten into trouble yet. And I don’t think Shige would let Kei-chan do him on stage.”
Ryo glowers silently between the other two for a moment, then points a finger in Yamapi’s face. “If any more people leave this group, I’m moving permanently to Eito, Pi. I’m not taking on any more slackers’ parts in the songs!”
Ryo stalks off and frightens the makeup artists and a few other innocent bystanders, and Yamapi finally smiles. He lifts his hand to cup it around his mouth so that Koyama can hear him over the pleas of the director.
“Gambatte ne, Kei-chan! With your member ai!”
Koyama looks over curiously from fondling the nape of Shige’s neck, and beams. “Haaai~!”
END