[je] [nakamaru/akanishi, kat-tun gen] promise
Title: Promise
Fandom: Johnny's & Associates (KAT-TUN)
Characters/Pairings: KAT-TUN / Nakamaru/Akanishi, kind of Akanishi/Ueda?
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1600
Summary: Jin doesn't say goodbye. Not really.
Notes: I don't think any of the stuff Koki is worried about will actually happen, just that they could if maybe somehow KAT-TUN disbanded or something. Junno's pun doesn't translate to Japanese, but I'm not writing this in Japanese so I don't care.
Notes 2: Concrit requested and welcomed! :D
Notes 3: Segments stand on their own!
----------
Jin shows up at Taguchi's door with a six pack of beer in one hand and his Wii controllers in the other. "Hey," he says, like crashing a (former) bandmate's hotel room in the midst of a tour is in any way normal.
"What are you doing here? " asks Taguchi blankly, "you're not even in this band any more."
"I know," says Jin, wincing anyway--Taguchi, blunt as always--"can't I come kick your ass at Mario Kart anyway?"
Taguchi laughs then, so loudly Jin is afraid Koki is going to lean out of his room and complain, but then Taguchi drags him into the room so they never find out if it happens.
"I hope you're ready to cry like a baby," says Taguchi, shutting his DS and leaning over to fiddle with the console.
"I've been practicing," Jin warns, pushing his controller into a wheel and belly-flopping on the bed before reaching for the beer he'd set on the floor. As it hisses open, the title screen comes up. Taguchi and Jin grin at one another. It's on.
Sixteen races, six beers, and eighteen shots of foul-smelling rum later, they're both well and truly drunk--everything is funny all of a sudden, and their karts are more often hitting walls or falling into lava or water or space than crossing the finish line.
"So when you're in America," says Taguchi, after hours of it going unmentioned, "can I come do this?"
"Sure," says Jin, "as long as you bring beer."
"Do I have to leave after the six-pack is gone?" asks Taguchi, rolling over and looking at him curiously, his chin pillowed on his arms.
Jin laughs. "I'll take it on a case by case basis," he decides.
"Twelve or twenty-four?" asks Taguchi, straight-faced.
It takes a minute for Jin's beer-hazed brain to take in the pun. "Just for that, twenty-four," he declares, groaning.
"A twenty-four case of beers, then," promises Taguchi solemnly.
He turns off the light before he turns over. His back looks a little broader in the light from the television, and Jin is a little watery-eyed as he turns it off. He leans against the pillow with a long sigh.
----------
Kamenashi seems shell-shocked; he's moving slowly and his perfect responses are even more wooden than usual.
Akanishi deals with it with as much grace as he deals with anything; he pokes him in the cheek and shoves lunch at him.
Kamenashi scowls, accepting the food and poking at it miserably.
"You knew it was coming, didn't you?" asks Akanishi, leaning back into the chair across from him, legs spread and hands shoved into his pockets.
"It was obvious," answers Kamenashi darkly.
Akanishi seems momentarily contrite. "Sorry," he offers.
"Save it," says Kamenashi, "it's not--you don't have to--just… stop it."
Akanishi seems to understand what he's trying to say; seems to understand that I'm upset and I'm hurt and this sucks and I don't want fake apologies. Akanishi isn't sorry. He shouldn't be, he's been given a chance and that chance doesn't include KAT-TUN.
"Eat," he orders, as he gets up.
Kamenashi eats more that lunch than he eats for the rest of the week.
----------
Ueda's fitting lyrics to melodies in his head, hands still on the body of his guitar as his lips move around the words, when a heavy weight settles against his side and forces his elbow into an uncomfortable position.
He shrugs. "Move, Jin, I'm trying to work," he says.
Akanishi sits up, flashing a smile over his shoulder at Ueda.
"What's this song?" asks Akanishi, sitting forward and plucking the paper off of Ueda's knee.
"Just something I'm working on," evades Ueda neatly, "solo thing."
Akanishi nods, reading with a little smile.
"Lemme see that," he says, reaching for the guitar. He's not an expert player, never has been, doesn't have the patience to practice for days and days on end, but he has a mind full of melodies and a million words to say goodbye. He says goodbye now, voice light and heavy, rough and smooth, and it takes a moment for Ueda to realize there aren't actually any words. He listens, carefully, filling in his own words about waiting for the last train and watching lonely clouds drift across the sky, and realizes what Akanishi is doing.
He notes the chords after a moment, getting caught up in following the movements of Akanishi's mouth and fingers. It's only afterward, when Akanishi looks up and brushes thumbs under his eyes with a sound of concern that Ueda realizes he was crying.
----------
Jin isn't sure what to say to Koki; Koki is simultaneously a giant softie, cooing over puppies and babies and his little brother and cooking a mean omelette when Jin is pretty sure he wants his head to explode rather than go in to work, but then Jin's cheek aches in reminder of teenage fist-fights. He's relatively sure Koki won't punch him in the face, but Jin is still pretty sure he's going to get yelled at.
"Yo," he settles for, sitting on the couch and watching Koki put down his cup of coffee.
"Yo," greets Koki, and goes back to his mug.
Jin blinks. "What, you're not gonna bitch?" he asks, bracing himself.
"Bitch about what?" asks Koki, not looking up.
"Bitch about… Koki," says Jin.
Koki looks up. "I'm not pissed, asshole, fuck you," he says, delicate and polite as always.
Jin laughs. "You're crying," he points out.
"I am not!" snaps Koki, rubbing at his eyes viciously.
"You're crying as hard as you did that time the driver ran over that cat," accuses Jin, "are you gonna get my name tattooed on your ass, too?" He'd actually love to see that.
"No, fuck you," snaps Koki, "except if I got your face in there somewhere I could spend the rest of my days sitting on it…"
"Ha ha," answers Jin, rolling his eyes.
They sit in silence for a minute, the air between them charged with words neither of them will fucking say.
Koki looks like he'd rather catalogue his tattoos for a room full of little old ladies with canes than speak, now, but he forces the words out. "I give Ueda a year, maybe two," he muses, "soon enough he'll be back with Mousepeace and we'll be a band without vowels."
"Ueda's not going anywhere," says Jin, "he can do what he wants here."
"You're one to talk," says Koki, "it starts with you and then all of a sudden we're all going off in different directions to host Shounen Club Premium or get married or simultaneously starring in four dramas at once or trying to make it in underground clubs where they won't take you seriously because you're in an idol ba--"
Jin's arms are crushing his chest in a little. Koki hadn't known Jin had this kind of strength in him; he leans against Jin for a long moment, getting ahold of himself.
"KAT-TUN isn't some pussy failure band," says Jin, "if NewS can survive this shit--twice--then we can do this no problem. Don't freak the fuck out."
Koki scowls as they separate, but he does feel better. Even if he'd never admit it.
----------
Nakamaru is a little uncomfortable with the air in here; he shifts, pinching the bridge of his nose, and eyes Akanishi with something like impatience.
"Jin," he finally says, long moments later of sweat running down his nose and dampening his palms and Jin's breath on his arm.
Jin hums in response, shifting so his ponytail slides along Nakamaru's forearm. Nakamaru watches it with some attention, shifting his hand to run his fingers through brown hair caught up in an elastic. He tugs, experimentally, and when Jin groans, long and low in his throat, he knows he's found his key to a reaction (finally, he decides). He pulls Jin's head up, and meets half-lidded eyes and Jin's tongue sliding along his lower lip.
"Man, still some lip gloss," Jin complains, and it's so absurd Nakamaru blinks, considers the source, and laughs.
Jin makes a face. "Dude, it's distracting," he complains, tugging his head away from Nakamaru's fingers and shifting around so he can sit up, pout pulling at his lips. Nakamaru groans, and without another thought he leans forward to kiss it off. Man, but he hates the pouting.
Jin is almost grinning when Nakamaru's fingers find their way to his vest to tug it off, under his shirt to trail across his ribs, and Nakamaru would hate him for it if Jin wasn't returning the favor. He considers biting Jin, but he'd probably just wind up getting his own tongue--again--so he settles for scratching at the heaving side under his hand. Jin leans away from it, whining, and Nakamaru huffs as he tugs Jin's shirt off.
"Shut up," he says, as he pushes at Jin's pants. Jin mutters something like make me, Nakamaru-kun, and Nakamaru arches up to kiss him again, tongue sliding along Jin's and dragging Jin's breath out of him, hands pressing along his chest, against his heartbeat (thumpthump, thumpthump) and his heaving lungs. Jin tastes like smoke and smells far away and so so close, like club lights in L.A. and ramen on the way back to the train, like solo careers and dance practice as lanky-limbed complicated Juniors.
"I don't understand," he says, afterward, settling his forehead against Jin's and breathing, eyes open.
"What's there to understand?" asks Jin, roughly, like he doesn't care, like this doesn't matter, like he's not walking out of home and into the world.
"Everything," says Nakamaru.
"There's nothing," answers Akanishi, eyes dark, and at the moment, it's enough.
Nakamaru lays down to sleep. The next day he makes Akanishi-kun breakfast and asks him if he's packed yet, if he's even bothered to unpack from before.
----------
Fandom: Johnny's & Associates (KAT-TUN)
Characters/Pairings: KAT-TUN / Nakamaru/Akanishi, kind of Akanishi/Ueda?
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1600
Summary: Jin doesn't say goodbye. Not really.
Notes: I don't think any of the stuff Koki is worried about will actually happen, just that they could if maybe somehow KAT-TUN disbanded or something. Junno's pun doesn't translate to Japanese, but I'm not writing this in Japanese so I don't care.
Notes 2: Concrit requested and welcomed! :D
Notes 3: Segments stand on their own!
----------
Jin shows up at Taguchi's door with a six pack of beer in one hand and his Wii controllers in the other. "Hey," he says, like crashing a (former) bandmate's hotel room in the midst of a tour is in any way normal.
"What are you doing here? " asks Taguchi blankly, "you're not even in this band any more."
"I know," says Jin, wincing anyway--Taguchi, blunt as always--"can't I come kick your ass at Mario Kart anyway?"
Taguchi laughs then, so loudly Jin is afraid Koki is going to lean out of his room and complain, but then Taguchi drags him into the room so they never find out if it happens.
"I hope you're ready to cry like a baby," says Taguchi, shutting his DS and leaning over to fiddle with the console.
"I've been practicing," Jin warns, pushing his controller into a wheel and belly-flopping on the bed before reaching for the beer he'd set on the floor. As it hisses open, the title screen comes up. Taguchi and Jin grin at one another. It's on.
Sixteen races, six beers, and eighteen shots of foul-smelling rum later, they're both well and truly drunk--everything is funny all of a sudden, and their karts are more often hitting walls or falling into lava or water or space than crossing the finish line.
"So when you're in America," says Taguchi, after hours of it going unmentioned, "can I come do this?"
"Sure," says Jin, "as long as you bring beer."
"Do I have to leave after the six-pack is gone?" asks Taguchi, rolling over and looking at him curiously, his chin pillowed on his arms.
Jin laughs. "I'll take it on a case by case basis," he decides.
"Twelve or twenty-four?" asks Taguchi, straight-faced.
It takes a minute for Jin's beer-hazed brain to take in the pun. "Just for that, twenty-four," he declares, groaning.
"A twenty-four case of beers, then," promises Taguchi solemnly.
He turns off the light before he turns over. His back looks a little broader in the light from the television, and Jin is a little watery-eyed as he turns it off. He leans against the pillow with a long sigh.
----------
Kamenashi seems shell-shocked; he's moving slowly and his perfect responses are even more wooden than usual.
Akanishi deals with it with as much grace as he deals with anything; he pokes him in the cheek and shoves lunch at him.
Kamenashi scowls, accepting the food and poking at it miserably.
"You knew it was coming, didn't you?" asks Akanishi, leaning back into the chair across from him, legs spread and hands shoved into his pockets.
"It was obvious," answers Kamenashi darkly.
Akanishi seems momentarily contrite. "Sorry," he offers.
"Save it," says Kamenashi, "it's not--you don't have to--just… stop it."
Akanishi seems to understand what he's trying to say; seems to understand that I'm upset and I'm hurt and this sucks and I don't want fake apologies. Akanishi isn't sorry. He shouldn't be, he's been given a chance and that chance doesn't include KAT-TUN.
"Eat," he orders, as he gets up.
Kamenashi eats more that lunch than he eats for the rest of the week.
----------
Ueda's fitting lyrics to melodies in his head, hands still on the body of his guitar as his lips move around the words, when a heavy weight settles against his side and forces his elbow into an uncomfortable position.
He shrugs. "Move, Jin, I'm trying to work," he says.
Akanishi sits up, flashing a smile over his shoulder at Ueda.
"What's this song?" asks Akanishi, sitting forward and plucking the paper off of Ueda's knee.
"Just something I'm working on," evades Ueda neatly, "solo thing."
Akanishi nods, reading with a little smile.
"Lemme see that," he says, reaching for the guitar. He's not an expert player, never has been, doesn't have the patience to practice for days and days on end, but he has a mind full of melodies and a million words to say goodbye. He says goodbye now, voice light and heavy, rough and smooth, and it takes a moment for Ueda to realize there aren't actually any words. He listens, carefully, filling in his own words about waiting for the last train and watching lonely clouds drift across the sky, and realizes what Akanishi is doing.
He notes the chords after a moment, getting caught up in following the movements of Akanishi's mouth and fingers. It's only afterward, when Akanishi looks up and brushes thumbs under his eyes with a sound of concern that Ueda realizes he was crying.
----------
Jin isn't sure what to say to Koki; Koki is simultaneously a giant softie, cooing over puppies and babies and his little brother and cooking a mean omelette when Jin is pretty sure he wants his head to explode rather than go in to work, but then Jin's cheek aches in reminder of teenage fist-fights. He's relatively sure Koki won't punch him in the face, but Jin is still pretty sure he's going to get yelled at.
"Yo," he settles for, sitting on the couch and watching Koki put down his cup of coffee.
"Yo," greets Koki, and goes back to his mug.
Jin blinks. "What, you're not gonna bitch?" he asks, bracing himself.
"Bitch about what?" asks Koki, not looking up.
"Bitch about… Koki," says Jin.
Koki looks up. "I'm not pissed, asshole, fuck you," he says, delicate and polite as always.
Jin laughs. "You're crying," he points out.
"I am not!" snaps Koki, rubbing at his eyes viciously.
"You're crying as hard as you did that time the driver ran over that cat," accuses Jin, "are you gonna get my name tattooed on your ass, too?" He'd actually love to see that.
"No, fuck you," snaps Koki, "except if I got your face in there somewhere I could spend the rest of my days sitting on it…"
"Ha ha," answers Jin, rolling his eyes.
They sit in silence for a minute, the air between them charged with words neither of them will fucking say.
Koki looks like he'd rather catalogue his tattoos for a room full of little old ladies with canes than speak, now, but he forces the words out. "I give Ueda a year, maybe two," he muses, "soon enough he'll be back with Mousepeace and we'll be a band without vowels."
"Ueda's not going anywhere," says Jin, "he can do what he wants here."
"You're one to talk," says Koki, "it starts with you and then all of a sudden we're all going off in different directions to host Shounen Club Premium or get married or simultaneously starring in four dramas at once or trying to make it in underground clubs where they won't take you seriously because you're in an idol ba--"
Jin's arms are crushing his chest in a little. Koki hadn't known Jin had this kind of strength in him; he leans against Jin for a long moment, getting ahold of himself.
"KAT-TUN isn't some pussy failure band," says Jin, "if NewS can survive this shit--twice--then we can do this no problem. Don't freak the fuck out."
Koki scowls as they separate, but he does feel better. Even if he'd never admit it.
----------
Nakamaru is a little uncomfortable with the air in here; he shifts, pinching the bridge of his nose, and eyes Akanishi with something like impatience.
"Jin," he finally says, long moments later of sweat running down his nose and dampening his palms and Jin's breath on his arm.
Jin hums in response, shifting so his ponytail slides along Nakamaru's forearm. Nakamaru watches it with some attention, shifting his hand to run his fingers through brown hair caught up in an elastic. He tugs, experimentally, and when Jin groans, long and low in his throat, he knows he's found his key to a reaction (finally, he decides). He pulls Jin's head up, and meets half-lidded eyes and Jin's tongue sliding along his lower lip.
"Man, still some lip gloss," Jin complains, and it's so absurd Nakamaru blinks, considers the source, and laughs.
Jin makes a face. "Dude, it's distracting," he complains, tugging his head away from Nakamaru's fingers and shifting around so he can sit up, pout pulling at his lips. Nakamaru groans, and without another thought he leans forward to kiss it off. Man, but he hates the pouting.
Jin is almost grinning when Nakamaru's fingers find their way to his vest to tug it off, under his shirt to trail across his ribs, and Nakamaru would hate him for it if Jin wasn't returning the favor. He considers biting Jin, but he'd probably just wind up getting his own tongue--again--so he settles for scratching at the heaving side under his hand. Jin leans away from it, whining, and Nakamaru huffs as he tugs Jin's shirt off.
"Shut up," he says, as he pushes at Jin's pants. Jin mutters something like make me, Nakamaru-kun, and Nakamaru arches up to kiss him again, tongue sliding along Jin's and dragging Jin's breath out of him, hands pressing along his chest, against his heartbeat (thumpthump, thumpthump) and his heaving lungs. Jin tastes like smoke and smells far away and so so close, like club lights in L.A. and ramen on the way back to the train, like solo careers and dance practice as lanky-limbed complicated Juniors.
"I don't understand," he says, afterward, settling his forehead against Jin's and breathing, eyes open.
"What's there to understand?" asks Jin, roughly, like he doesn't care, like this doesn't matter, like he's not walking out of home and into the world.
"Everything," says Nakamaru.
"There's nothing," answers Akanishi, eyes dark, and at the moment, it's enough.
Nakamaru lays down to sleep. The next day he makes Akanishi-kun breakfast and asks him if he's packed yet, if he's even bothered to unpack from before.
----------