[maruyama/yokoyama feat k8] off script
Title: Off Script
Fandom: Johnny's & Associates (Kanjani8)
Characters: Yokoyama You, Maruyama Ryuhei with cameos from the rest of K8
Pairing: Maruyama Ryuhei/Yokoyama You
Word Count: ~1800
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Does "Yoko being dense" need a warning?
Summary: Yoko and Maru go out after Yoko watches Gilbert Grape. Awkward ensues.
Notes: In the entertainment world, people greet each other with "good morning" no matter what time of day it is. Written for nikouru during k8_exchange 2011.
Maru's head is pillowed on his lap in the middle of the damn bar, and Yoko has never more wanted to spontaneously die. Well, okay, maybe dying is a little extreme. But he could go for a sudden eternal trip to Costa Rica, a government-issued evacuation to Hawaii or an indefinite stay at a secluded temple in Tibet right about now. The lights in their little VIP room are dim, casting yellow light across the planes of Maru's face and down his neck. Yoko keeps staring at it, wondering distantly what would happen if he slid his fingers across Maru's throat.
The worst part is, this is hardly the first time Yoko's thought anything like this. He's always catching himself looking lately, always flushing when Maru's body lands on top of his own or hands find their way into his personal space. Ever since he started rehearsals for Gilbert Grape Maru's been... different, somehow. More confident. He'd had good seats for the show, tucked away from prying eyes but with a great view of the stage, and he'd spent nearly half the time shifting around in his chair, wishing he'd worn looser pants. They've been drinking for hours, talking about serious things like acting and scheduling and everything, and then lighter topics, like Yasu's hair and Hina's recent search for a new apartment. Maru had fallen over, across Yoko's thighs, some half an hour ago, and Yoko can't quite bring himself to move, fondness stirring up warmth in his chest.
A knock on the door--Yoko clears his throat. "Yeah?" he manages, and the concierge dips his head in to say that the bar is closing.
"Guess that's our cue," Yoko says, and pats Maru's shoulder until Maru stirs, sitting up with bleary eyes. "Come on," he says, poking and pulling at Maru until they're both stumbling out of the bar. Maru's the one who manages to flag down a taxi, his arms flapping wide and insistent.
Maru slides inside and curls against the seat, his forehead pressed to the glass. Yoko glances at him, once, and then gives the cabby his own address. Five minutes of awkward, terse conversation with the cab driver later, Maru abruptly sits up. He grins at Yoko and scoots over, his hand sliding over Yoko's thigh and his head leaning against Yoko's. The cabby laughs at Yoko in the rear-view, and Yoko colors. He still can't bring himself to shrug Maru away.
By the time Yoko hauls Maru up the stairs and through the door to his place, he's started to sober up a little. Maru looks like a mixture of drunk and deliriously happy, though, and he leans on Yoko as they stumble into the genkan. "Yuu~chin," he begins, "I'm so glad you came to see my show."
Yoko sighs. "It was good," he says, "better than anything about grape farmers--Maru-o, move, come on, I can't carry you--"
"You could if you wanted to," Maru says, but he lets go of Yoko to stumble across Yoko's entryway to the couch tucked in front of the television. His body is awkwardly sideways, his left leg off the couch and on the floor and his upper body propped up against the arm of the couch.
"That can't be comfortable," he says, "lie down for real, you idiot, I'll get you a blanket."
Maru hums, shifting around a bit with the lazy air of a man half-asleep. Yoko keeps the blankets on the highest shelf of the linen closet after an awkward middle-of-the-night accident resulted in him drying his body off with a quilt and sleeping wrapped up in a towel, and he very nearly tugs the whole pile of them down on his head before he finds one that's warm enough to be useful and passes the sniff test. By the time he comes back, Maru is half asleep, limbs thrown across the couch and his head tucked against the throw pillow. A smile spreads over Yoko's face, and then he bends over to spread the blanket over Maru, tucking it around his hip and over his shoulder. As he moves to stand up, Maru's hand shoots out of the covers, latching onto his wrist.
"What's up?" Yoko asks, "are you feeling okay? If you're going to be sick please do it on the blanket, not--" Maru hauls him down and presses their lips together.
It's like the whole world stops, and Yoko can't breathe. Maru's fingers are firm at his quickening pulse, his mouth firm against Yoko's lips, and it's perfect for all of ten seconds. When Yoko pulls away, to get his breath, to shift his position maybe, Maru's eyes are very serious. Nothing at all like every other stupid drunken midnight kiss from Maru.
Yoko can't handle the way it makes heat spread through his entire body. "We can't--you're drunk," he says, "I'm drunk. Don't... good night." He scrambles to his feet, and hurries down the hall.
He doesn't sleep much that night.
He falls into fitful sleep around five, maybe, or six, but the smell of food and the sound of Maru singing Yellow Pansy Street jerk him awake by seven. Yoko considers ignoring Maru completely for a very serious ten minutes, but Maru knocks on the door and hisses "good morning, Yuuchin!", which throws that plan kind of out the window. Yoko resolves to ignore the whole... thing from last night. Maru kisses people all the time--hell, the last time Yasu tagged along there were tongues involved in their drunken making out. It's not a big deal.
That's what he tells himself as he washes his face, anyway.
He walks into the tiny kitchen he rarely uses, raking his fingers through his hair, and sits at the kitchen table, where there's breakfast. Maru's whistling as he washes dishes, sounding somehow wide awake and totally cheerful, and Yoko wants to shake him. Then again, maybe he doesn't want that, because if he acts like it meant something, then it did mean something. He's not sure if he can handle that this morning. Or any morning, but especially this morning.
"Thanks," he says, as he digs in. Maru grins back at him over his shoulder.
"Sure thing," Maru chirps, "it's the least I could do in return for letting me crash here."
"I just couldn't remember your address," Yoko teases, and Maru pouts.
Yoko falls back into silence as he picks at his food, and Maru leans on the counter, wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans.
"Yoko," Maru says, finally, sounding serious.
Yoko stands up, abruptly. "Sorry," he says, heart pounding, "I have to--work--I'm late. Just... leave the key in the mail box, I'll see you for Janiben taping next, right?" He's babbling and they both know it, but he doesn't care.
He gets through the next four days that way. He's tired, but then he's always tired. Besides, he's an idol, a superior brand of human being made to run on applause, not shut-eye (yeah, right). Drama shooting takes up most of his time, these days. Yoko likes dramas. There's a comfort to be had in running off of a script for at least a little while, since he ignores variety scripts and he doesn't get the luxury of a plot map in real life. He likes being Teranishi, because being Yoko is too confusing.
He's not looking forward to filming Janiben, a feeling he hasn't had about the show in months, since that time he woke up half-naked next to Ryo and neither of them could remember the night before.
He's the last one to crash into the dressing room, calling out his good mornings and poking at Subaru's exhausted face. "Too much Monhan," he guesses, and Subaru shrugs. Maru is sitting at the makeup table with concealer in his hand, listening to Hina recount his night before, and he looks up to meet Yoko's eye in his reflection in the mirror. Yoko looks away, eyeing Yasu's outfit. He's unable to hold back a snort, and Yasu retaliates by throwing a pillow at him.
Filming starts ten minutes of childish fighting later, and if Yoko and Maru hardly talk, well, the others fill in the gaps all right. When they wrap, both Yasu and Hina look suspicious, because Yasu feels every difference in the air and Hina knows Yoko, knows Maru. Yoko brushes off Hina's concerned 'you okay?' and Yasu's insistent hand on his forearm.
He excuses himself to the bathroom, and he's so wrapped up in his thoughts he doesn't even notice Maru following him inside until there's a hand on his elbow. He squawks, jumping and shouting about crazy fans, and stops short when he sees Maru's too-serious expression.
"Maru," he squeaks, "um. Hi. What's up?" He fidgets, shifting backward.
Maru sighs. "Yoko," he says, softly, "what's wrong with you?"
Yoko's eyes dart around, trying to land anywhere but on Maru's face. Like the floor, the floor looks great! "I don't know what you're talking about," he says.
"Yoko," Maru says, stressing the syllable like he's annoyed, "don't lie."
Yoko shuts his eyes. "Do you remember the night you stayed at my place?" he asks.
Maru's feet shift like he's thinking. He's probably got that cute, over-thoughtful expression he gets sometimes, Yoko suspects. A glance up says he's right, and the sight makes a smile stretch over Yoko's lips.
"What if I say I don't?" Maru asks, like he's offering Yoko a way out.
"Do you?" Yoko asks, his voice thin.
Maru's mouth spreads into a smile, and he steps in so close Yoko has to back up so he can keep breathing. "Yokocho, if you didn't like it you should have said something," he says, seriously, "and if you did like it..."
Yoko colors. "And if I did like it," he repeats, "and if I did like it what?!"
Maru hand finds his wrist again. "Would you be interested in a repeat performance?" He wiggles his eyebrows obnoxiously, and by the time Yoko thinks to swat at him Maru's kissing him again. By the time he pulls away again they're both breathing hard. Yoko can't help a smile spreading across his face, and ducks his head away from Maru in vain.
"Yokocho, you're all pink~"
"All right, lovebirds, and I'm happy for you and all but you're blocking the only sink with any soap left."
They both jump--Ryo is standing behind them, hands in his pockets and looking unimpressed. "How long have you been there?!" Yoko sputters, and Ryo shrugs.
"Pretty much the whole time," he answers, "cute face, by the way." He laughs.
The door swings open. "Is everything okay in here? Are you two fighting?" Yasu looks concerned, and Yoko is about to come up with an excuse when Ryo hops into the conversation.
"No, they're making out," he announces, and Yasu's eyes go from normal human-sized to roughly that of dinner plates in ten seconds.
Then he starts to squeal. Yoko's starting to think that permanent vacation idea is a great one.
Fandom: Johnny's & Associates (Kanjani8)
Characters: Yokoyama You, Maruyama Ryuhei with cameos from the rest of K8
Pairing: Maruyama Ryuhei/Yokoyama You
Word Count: ~1800
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Does "Yoko being dense" need a warning?
Summary: Yoko and Maru go out after Yoko watches Gilbert Grape. Awkward ensues.
Notes: In the entertainment world, people greet each other with "good morning" no matter what time of day it is. Written for nikouru during k8_exchange 2011.
Maru's head is pillowed on his lap in the middle of the damn bar, and Yoko has never more wanted to spontaneously die. Well, okay, maybe dying is a little extreme. But he could go for a sudden eternal trip to Costa Rica, a government-issued evacuation to Hawaii or an indefinite stay at a secluded temple in Tibet right about now. The lights in their little VIP room are dim, casting yellow light across the planes of Maru's face and down his neck. Yoko keeps staring at it, wondering distantly what would happen if he slid his fingers across Maru's throat.
The worst part is, this is hardly the first time Yoko's thought anything like this. He's always catching himself looking lately, always flushing when Maru's body lands on top of his own or hands find their way into his personal space. Ever since he started rehearsals for Gilbert Grape Maru's been... different, somehow. More confident. He'd had good seats for the show, tucked away from prying eyes but with a great view of the stage, and he'd spent nearly half the time shifting around in his chair, wishing he'd worn looser pants. They've been drinking for hours, talking about serious things like acting and scheduling and everything, and then lighter topics, like Yasu's hair and Hina's recent search for a new apartment. Maru had fallen over, across Yoko's thighs, some half an hour ago, and Yoko can't quite bring himself to move, fondness stirring up warmth in his chest.
A knock on the door--Yoko clears his throat. "Yeah?" he manages, and the concierge dips his head in to say that the bar is closing.
"Guess that's our cue," Yoko says, and pats Maru's shoulder until Maru stirs, sitting up with bleary eyes. "Come on," he says, poking and pulling at Maru until they're both stumbling out of the bar. Maru's the one who manages to flag down a taxi, his arms flapping wide and insistent.
Maru slides inside and curls against the seat, his forehead pressed to the glass. Yoko glances at him, once, and then gives the cabby his own address. Five minutes of awkward, terse conversation with the cab driver later, Maru abruptly sits up. He grins at Yoko and scoots over, his hand sliding over Yoko's thigh and his head leaning against Yoko's. The cabby laughs at Yoko in the rear-view, and Yoko colors. He still can't bring himself to shrug Maru away.
By the time Yoko hauls Maru up the stairs and through the door to his place, he's started to sober up a little. Maru looks like a mixture of drunk and deliriously happy, though, and he leans on Yoko as they stumble into the genkan. "Yuu~chin," he begins, "I'm so glad you came to see my show."
Yoko sighs. "It was good," he says, "better than anything about grape farmers--Maru-o, move, come on, I can't carry you--"
"You could if you wanted to," Maru says, but he lets go of Yoko to stumble across Yoko's entryway to the couch tucked in front of the television. His body is awkwardly sideways, his left leg off the couch and on the floor and his upper body propped up against the arm of the couch.
"That can't be comfortable," he says, "lie down for real, you idiot, I'll get you a blanket."
Maru hums, shifting around a bit with the lazy air of a man half-asleep. Yoko keeps the blankets on the highest shelf of the linen closet after an awkward middle-of-the-night accident resulted in him drying his body off with a quilt and sleeping wrapped up in a towel, and he very nearly tugs the whole pile of them down on his head before he finds one that's warm enough to be useful and passes the sniff test. By the time he comes back, Maru is half asleep, limbs thrown across the couch and his head tucked against the throw pillow. A smile spreads over Yoko's face, and then he bends over to spread the blanket over Maru, tucking it around his hip and over his shoulder. As he moves to stand up, Maru's hand shoots out of the covers, latching onto his wrist.
"What's up?" Yoko asks, "are you feeling okay? If you're going to be sick please do it on the blanket, not--" Maru hauls him down and presses their lips together.
It's like the whole world stops, and Yoko can't breathe. Maru's fingers are firm at his quickening pulse, his mouth firm against Yoko's lips, and it's perfect for all of ten seconds. When Yoko pulls away, to get his breath, to shift his position maybe, Maru's eyes are very serious. Nothing at all like every other stupid drunken midnight kiss from Maru.
Yoko can't handle the way it makes heat spread through his entire body. "We can't--you're drunk," he says, "I'm drunk. Don't... good night." He scrambles to his feet, and hurries down the hall.
He doesn't sleep much that night.
He falls into fitful sleep around five, maybe, or six, but the smell of food and the sound of Maru singing Yellow Pansy Street jerk him awake by seven. Yoko considers ignoring Maru completely for a very serious ten minutes, but Maru knocks on the door and hisses "good morning, Yuuchin!", which throws that plan kind of out the window. Yoko resolves to ignore the whole... thing from last night. Maru kisses people all the time--hell, the last time Yasu tagged along there were tongues involved in their drunken making out. It's not a big deal.
That's what he tells himself as he washes his face, anyway.
He walks into the tiny kitchen he rarely uses, raking his fingers through his hair, and sits at the kitchen table, where there's breakfast. Maru's whistling as he washes dishes, sounding somehow wide awake and totally cheerful, and Yoko wants to shake him. Then again, maybe he doesn't want that, because if he acts like it meant something, then it did mean something. He's not sure if he can handle that this morning. Or any morning, but especially this morning.
"Thanks," he says, as he digs in. Maru grins back at him over his shoulder.
"Sure thing," Maru chirps, "it's the least I could do in return for letting me crash here."
"I just couldn't remember your address," Yoko teases, and Maru pouts.
Yoko falls back into silence as he picks at his food, and Maru leans on the counter, wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans.
"Yoko," Maru says, finally, sounding serious.
Yoko stands up, abruptly. "Sorry," he says, heart pounding, "I have to--work--I'm late. Just... leave the key in the mail box, I'll see you for Janiben taping next, right?" He's babbling and they both know it, but he doesn't care.
He gets through the next four days that way. He's tired, but then he's always tired. Besides, he's an idol, a superior brand of human being made to run on applause, not shut-eye (yeah, right). Drama shooting takes up most of his time, these days. Yoko likes dramas. There's a comfort to be had in running off of a script for at least a little while, since he ignores variety scripts and he doesn't get the luxury of a plot map in real life. He likes being Teranishi, because being Yoko is too confusing.
He's not looking forward to filming Janiben, a feeling he hasn't had about the show in months, since that time he woke up half-naked next to Ryo and neither of them could remember the night before.
He's the last one to crash into the dressing room, calling out his good mornings and poking at Subaru's exhausted face. "Too much Monhan," he guesses, and Subaru shrugs. Maru is sitting at the makeup table with concealer in his hand, listening to Hina recount his night before, and he looks up to meet Yoko's eye in his reflection in the mirror. Yoko looks away, eyeing Yasu's outfit. He's unable to hold back a snort, and Yasu retaliates by throwing a pillow at him.
Filming starts ten minutes of childish fighting later, and if Yoko and Maru hardly talk, well, the others fill in the gaps all right. When they wrap, both Yasu and Hina look suspicious, because Yasu feels every difference in the air and Hina knows Yoko, knows Maru. Yoko brushes off Hina's concerned 'you okay?' and Yasu's insistent hand on his forearm.
He excuses himself to the bathroom, and he's so wrapped up in his thoughts he doesn't even notice Maru following him inside until there's a hand on his elbow. He squawks, jumping and shouting about crazy fans, and stops short when he sees Maru's too-serious expression.
"Maru," he squeaks, "um. Hi. What's up?" He fidgets, shifting backward.
Maru sighs. "Yoko," he says, softly, "what's wrong with you?"
Yoko's eyes dart around, trying to land anywhere but on Maru's face. Like the floor, the floor looks great! "I don't know what you're talking about," he says.
"Yoko," Maru says, stressing the syllable like he's annoyed, "don't lie."
Yoko shuts his eyes. "Do you remember the night you stayed at my place?" he asks.
Maru's feet shift like he's thinking. He's probably got that cute, over-thoughtful expression he gets sometimes, Yoko suspects. A glance up says he's right, and the sight makes a smile stretch over Yoko's lips.
"What if I say I don't?" Maru asks, like he's offering Yoko a way out.
"Do you?" Yoko asks, his voice thin.
Maru's mouth spreads into a smile, and he steps in so close Yoko has to back up so he can keep breathing. "Yokocho, if you didn't like it you should have said something," he says, seriously, "and if you did like it..."
Yoko colors. "And if I did like it," he repeats, "and if I did like it what?!"
Maru hand finds his wrist again. "Would you be interested in a repeat performance?" He wiggles his eyebrows obnoxiously, and by the time Yoko thinks to swat at him Maru's kissing him again. By the time he pulls away again they're both breathing hard. Yoko can't help a smile spreading across his face, and ducks his head away from Maru in vain.
"Yokocho, you're all pink~"
"All right, lovebirds, and I'm happy for you and all but you're blocking the only sink with any soap left."
They both jump--Ryo is standing behind them, hands in his pockets and looking unimpressed. "How long have you been there?!" Yoko sputters, and Ryo shrugs.
"Pretty much the whole time," he answers, "cute face, by the way." He laughs.
The door swings open. "Is everything okay in here? Are you two fighting?" Yasu looks concerned, and Yoko is about to come up with an excuse when Ryo hops into the conversation.
"No, they're making out," he announces, and Yasu's eyes go from normal human-sized to roughly that of dinner plates in ten seconds.
Then he starts to squeal. Yoko's starting to think that permanent vacation idea is a great one.