fic for flamesword
Title: Shogun
By: korn_lotr_luver
Pairing: Akame
Word count: 5,912
Rating: PG-13
Genre/Warnings: Romance, Hollywood AU
Notes: Heavily influenced by the TV show Entourage, but you don’t need to have seen it for this to make any sense :D Also, thank you to J and M for the beta-ing expertise, and B and S for the hand-holding. I do hope you like this, flamesword!
Summary: Jin is an international movie star. Kame is his long-suffering manager. Also, Jin’s next role is a gay samurai.
Akanishi Jin is one of the lucky ones; the first role he ever lands puts him on the A-list and keeps him there.
Fresh out of acting school, he’s cast as the younger brother of a serial killer on the run, whose untimely death brings about his brother’s confession. It’s a small role but an important one, and with Paul Haggis1 helming the project as both writer and director, Treading Water sweeps through the festival circuit like a snowstorm, ultimately leaving Haggis with his third Oscar win and Jin with his very first.
He rides the wave of his success for quite awhile, landing such roles as a nervous paralegal who falls in love with the wrong woman in George Clooney’s As You See It; the traitorous Captain of the US Navy in Kathryn Bigelow’s2 Maritime; the pivotal leader of a rival Na’vi clan in James Cameron’s Avatar 2; and even replacing James Franco as Kaneda Shotaro in Albert Hughes’s3 re-make of Akira.
But there are few roles in white-washed Hollywood for Asian-Americans, even those as beloved and talented at Jin. There’s a lull in his career that even his agent can’t fill, but that’s when Takita Yojiro4 approaches him with a proposition; a re-envisioning of Martin Scorsese’s The Departed, set in the world of the yakuza. Though born and raised in America, Jin is fluent in Japanese and is seemingly perfect for the film, and with the reassurance that Scorsese himself is an executive producer, accepts the role Leonardo DiCaprio once played. The movie is a major hit, well received by critics and viewers alike, and it puts him back on the map.
Though this time around, it’s Tokyo that’s knocking.
Japan loves him; despite his American upbringing he’s one of them, and his previous success in Hollywood only serves to heighten their fervor. He’s offered part after part, until the scripts pile up on his manager’s desk, too many to read, too many to consider. He voices the boy-turned-frog protagonist in Miyazaki’s Pond. He stars as the emotionally unstable, cocaine-addicted stage actor in Yamada Yoji’s5 film Two for the Show. He jump-starts the up-and-coming Miyagi Ken’s** career, starring in and financing his movie Kuro, in which he plays a troubled man who falls in love with his sister’s therapist.
But it’s Jin’s second film with Takita Yojiro, the controversial Oda Nobunaga biopic Shogun-a movie that depicts Nobunaga’s infamous relationship with Mori Ranmaru-that is Akanishi Jin’s most significant role.
Yes, Shogun will eventually be the first ever completely foreign film to take home the Oscar for Best Picture. And yes, it will be because of this movie that Jin becomes the most celebrated Asian-American actor in the history of film.
But the real reason-the true reason-happens before any of this occurs, because Jin doesn’t get the part of Oda Nobunaga as easily as he would have liked; it’s the tireless efforts of his manager, Kamenashi Kazuya, that eventually put these life-changing events in motion.
* * *
It’s Monday morning, and he is actually on time; Jin kind of wants to pinch himself.
“This script is perfection,” he exclaims instead, determinedly bursting through the double-doors of Kame’s office at nine o’clock sharp. “I want it.” He slaps a hefty stack of pages onto his manager’s desk before collapsing onto the office’s leather couch, his giant grey hoodie billowing out as he sits.
Kame sighs through his nose, leaning back in his chair and regarding Jin through narrowed eyes.
“If I don’t get this part, I’ll die,” Jin moans, and throws an arm over his face in true dramatic fashion. “I’ll lock myself in the bathroom and… and shoot myself with Koki’s gun!”
“So are you going to die or just kill yourself?” Kame asks calmly, and Jin is a little put out to realize that Kame isn’t taking him seriously. “Because from what you just said it’s difficult to tell.”
“I am offended right now; this is my offended face,” Jin wails, and he wrinkles his nose when Kame’s expression turns smug. “You never take me seriously.”
Kame shrugs. “I’ve never seen a reason to.”
“How about losing me as a client?” he points out. “That’s a good reason; did you ever think of that?”
Kame laughs now, a low chuckle that has Jin crossing his arms defiantly before he even realizes it’s happening. “Jin, if you think you’re my only A-Lister client…”
“No, of course I don’t,” Jin admonishes, and briefly wonders why Kame puts up with him if he thinks Jin has no brains.
“Then what--“
“But I know I’m your favorite.”
Kame immediately turns a delicious bright red, and when his hand shoots up to tight his tie in that wonderful nervous habit of his, Jin holds back a grin.
Victory.
“And as your favorite client,” Jin persists, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, “I think it’s only fair you do extra-special things for me. Like look at scripts. Take, for instance, this one right here,” he segues neatly, nudging the forgotten script across the messy desk until it nearly falls into Kame’s lap. “Kame, just look at it.”
Kame clears his throat uncertainly, but still manages to swat Jin’s hand away in order to give the script a glance. “Shogun,” he reads from the title page. “Written by Koyama Kundo6.” He flips through the pages briefly then sighs. “Jin, I handed this script to you three weeks ago.”
“No, dude, I think I’d-,“ and then he remembers: there’s another copy of Shogun sitting on his kitchen table at home, gathering dust amongst the countless other scripts that have all been forgotten. “Oh,” he says, scratching at his neck sheepishly. “Okay, so maybe you did.”
“So who showed this to you then? Koki?”
Jin nods in assent.
“What about your agent showing it to you is any different from what I do?” Kame questions adamantly, and then he does that thing where he frowns with his eyebrows and looks angry, but Jin’s knows Kame, and recognizes that expression for what it truly is, though Kame would never be caught dead admitting it; jealousy.
Jin’s grin is sheepish. “You know how the man gets,” he says, rolling his eyes, but Kame shakes his head. “Oh come the fuck on, Kame,” Jin groans. “Koki shoves scripts down my throat like it’s a freaking blow job. All you do is hand me a stack of them a mile high every Friday and expect me to read them all over the weekend. I have a life, you know. There are like… parties.”
“Parties,” Kame says evenly. “Parties.”
“I know what I said, Kame, god.”
“And that kind of bullshit excuse doesn’t even warrant an answer.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter why I didn’t read it earlier. Because I did. And that’s all that…,” but he trails off, because now Kame is looking like a kid caught red-handed with his arm in the cookie jar and that’s just not cool. “What,” he prods, and tries not to notice how his stomach just sank into the floor. “What.”
“Nishikido Ryo is already locked in as Nobunaga. Jin, filming for the movie starts in Kyoto in four days.”
“No. What? No.” He shoots up from the couch, and points an accusatory finger at Kame. “I don’t believe it. Because this part was made for me, and do you know how long I’ve wanted to play Oda Nobunaga in something like this? How did that ape even get the part?”
“I got the e-mail from Takita’s assistant yesterday; want to see it?” Kame challenges, promptly reaching out to turn his computer screen towards Jin. Jin flips the screen back around just as quickly. What he really wants to do is pick the damn thing up and smash it down on the desk, but he must admit it wouldn’t be very appropriate.
“I don’t want to see that shit,” he moans, and collapses back down on the couch, sprawling across the cushions. “How could this have happened?”
“Don’t give me that, Jin,” Kame snaps, rolling his eyes when Jin whimpers. “Not when it’s your own damn laziness that put you into this position in the first place.”
“My own laziness?” Jin sputters, but then he makes himself actually stop and think about it and, okay, yeah, maybe it is. “It’s over then… Fuck. I wanted this part. I really wanted it.”
Damn it. With such a long streak of successes in Japan, he’d started to believe that he could get any role he wanted, and he really wanted this one. Fuck.
But wait. Wait. This is stupid; he’s being stupid. He’s Akanishi Jin, a renowned, and dare he say, beloved actor, and his manager is Kamenashi Kazuya, probably the best most powerful manager in all of Tokyo, maybe of the whole goddamned business, (Ari Gold 7 aside.) If that doesn’t mean something in this town, Jin doesn’t know what will; and he is not going to give up this role of a lifetime without a fight.
Or at least making Kame do it for him.
“Now wait a second, Kame, wait,” he exclaims. “I know I can get this part. I just know it.”
Kame looks at him funny, like maybe he thinks Jin isn’t quite all there. “No, see, I don’t think you understand, Jin,” Kame eventually says, slowly, as if explaining some complicated math problem to a child. “The movie’s already done with pre-production. It’s casted, funded… it’s not- you just can’t get at it anymore.”
“Well I certainly can’t,” Jin says, nodding his head in agreement. “But you certainly can.”
Kame huffs out a laugh. “Your confidence in me is inspiring,” Kame says dryly, before tiredly pushing a hand through his long brown locks, “But it’s impossible. It can’t be done. Ryo might have already been paid.”
“Then un-pay him.”
“You can’t just… you can’t.”
“Kame,” he retorts. “I’ve seen you stare down Johnny Kitagawa, and I’m pretty sure that man doesn’t even feel human emotion. If you can do that, you can do anything.”
Kame furrows his brow in deliberation, eyes nearly slits as he stares Jin down from across the desk. Jin smiles encouragingly but he can already tell it’s an unnecessary gesture; for whatever reason, Kame’s mind is already made up. “You know what you’re asking? You know what you want me to do?” Kame still asks, cautious.
Jin doesn’t even hesitate. “The impossible, right? Just another Monday for you anyhow.”
Kame just gives him a long-suffering sigh, and that’s as much a ‘yes’ as Jin will ever get. He gets up from the couch, shaking a fist at Kame in victory as he moves towards the door. “Yeah. Now call me when you hear something good, alright?”
He leaves.
* * *
Kame sees the title of the script the second it lands on his desk.
He sees the title and he knows what it is and he knows immediately how it’s going to go.
Kame’s going to tell him the script-the movie-is gone, already green-lit; casted and funded by the most prominent indie production company Japan has to offer. Jin is going to bitch and moan and complain and Kame is going to let him, just as he’s going to let Jin ‘convince’ him even when he’s already convinced, because from the second that script touched down on his desk Kame is preparing for what he’s eventually going to be asked to do: achieve the impossible.
And he’s going to do it, beg and bribe and blackmail his way through the back-lots and the alleyways and the office buildings of Japan’s movie industry, until this impossible task is taken care of.
Because that rule he has about not falling in love with clients? Yeah, that never really counted when it came to Jin.
“God dammit,” he says calmly, though he’s only holding back a slew of harsher words on principle alone. He takes a swig of his now-cold coffee, loosens his tie and reaches a steady hand towards the headset of his phone.
He’s going to need to make some calls.
* * *
Jin is never too tired of saying it: Kame can work miracles.
“Akanishi-san? This is Fukazawa Akemi, from Shochiku Company, Limited8. Takita would like to officially extend you an offer of gratitude for you so graciously filling the part of Oda Nobunaga after Nishikido-san’s regretful departure.”
“Are you listening to the message?” Jin hisses, as he pauses the voicemail. He looks desperately over at his couch, where his friend Pi is currently submerged in a sea of throw pillows. “Did you hear what she said?”
There’s a rumble from where Pi’s face should be. Jin nudges him with a foot. Pi flaps a tired hand in Jin’s direction.
“Dude, come on, this is like, the best moment of my life.”
Pi resurfaces from his pillow fortress with a groan. “Then play the rest of the goddamn message,” he mutters, before flopping back down and disappearing into the mound of cushions.
Jin situates himself more comfortably on his loveseat. “Just because you shot that lame-o PV of yours today doesn’t mean you can be so rude.”
Pi flips him off.
“If you didn’t have all the pillows pilled under your fat carcass right now, I’d throw one at you,” Jin warns, but he sensibly ignores Pi’s taunts and plays the rest of the message.
“A private jet will be made available to take you to Kyoto at your earliest convenience. More information will be sent to your manager and agent, who will then inform you of further details. Goodbye, and thank you, Akanishi-san.”
There’s a flurry of movement as the message ends, and a few pillows fall softly from the couch to reveal Pi’s tired face. “That was definitely rehearsed,” he drones.
“Does it matter?” Jin breathes out, ignoring that familiar itching feeling to play the message just one more time. Then again, he’s already listened to it six times today. A seventh listen wouldn’t hurt, right? “I’m playing Nobu-fucking-naga in a Takita movie.”
“Why you’re this excited to play a gay samurai in something everyone on this godforsaken planet will see is beyond me,” Pi mutters. Jin jabs him in the side with his toe.
“So who’s playing your lover then?” Pi screeches breathlessly, and more pillows fall from the couch as he squirms away from Jin’s relentless attack. “I bet you wish Kame would play Mori just so you could kiss him.”
Jin ignores the sudden bubble of pleasure that rises in his chest at the mention of Kame kissing. And that Pi mentioned Kame kissing him... “Nakamaru Yuichi,” Jin snaps when he remembers himself. “And I do not.”
“’Kame can work miracles,’ ‘Kame’s so cool,’ ‘Kame’s so smart,’” Pi mocks, in a voice two octaves above anything remotely human. “If that doesn’t mean you want in his pants I don’t know what does.”
“Idiot, that does not sound like me.”
“All of that,” Pi says gleefully, “and you only object to my voice.”
“Well I don’t disagree?” Jin offers, and when Pi simply blinks at him, he sighs. “What I’m saying is… Dude, there’s just, there’s a lot of people who fall into the category of me wanting to bone them, alright? But not everyone returns those sentiments, so it doesn’t always… happen.”
Pi sits up abruptly, looking at Jin like he’s completely taken aback. “Really?”
“What do you mean… ‘really’?
“I mean, you admit to liking Kame?” Pi asks incredulously. “Seriously, just like that?” He laughs manically, yanking his cell from the front pocket of his jeans and flipping it open. “Toma owes me big-time,” he cackles, and his fingers fly click-clack, click-clack across the keys.
“Seriously?” Jin asks in disbelief. “You idiots have a bet?” Pi gives him this shit-eating grin without even looking up from his phone.
“Well it’s not like anything’s ever going to come of it, Pi,” he scoffs bitterly. “He’d sooner jump off like, the Rainbow Bridge or the Tokyo Tower or, or something, than date a client-than date me,” he amends bitterly.
Pi’s fingers pause over the keypad, and he squints at Jin, before his eyebrows shoot up high on his forehead. Jin shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“You could be wrong about that. Because what he did-probably did-getting Ryo to drop the role and all that, it was kinda impossible,” Pi eventually points out. “Makes you wonder what he did, and, more importantly, why he did it.”
Jin eyes Pi suspiciously. “What exactly are you trying to say here?”
“That maybe,” he exclaims brightly, “you’ll get into his pants after all!”
“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Jin scoffs, even as Pi’s suspicions make something in his chest twinge painfully. “Right.”
Pi shrugs. “I’m just putting it out there; take it or leave it.”
“Well, you’re- you’re wrong,” Jin shoots back. “I know Kame better than you do, and I know that’ll never happen.”
“Suit yourself,” Pi says, and then throws a pillow at him.
The pillow fight that ensues is the stuff of legends, and even Jin’s new movie role is soon forgotten.
* * *
It’s kind of surreal how quickly Jin finds himself at a table-read9 with the cast of Shogun.
It takes all of three hours after listening to the message before Kame and Koki are both pounding on his front door. He leaves them to suffer a bit on his doorstep, quoting lines from Inception through the intercom just because he can.
“YOU’RE WAITING FOR A TRAIN,” he yells in his best Marion10 voice.
“You’re waiting for me to drive my Maserati11 through your fucking foyer, you mean, dipshit,” Koki snaps.
Jin lets them inside after that.
Koki lectures and Kame scolds and Jin tries his very best to pay attention. Thankfully Pi comes to his rescue a few hours later after Jin sends a desperate text, and when he arrives with a stack of pizzas and a box of booze an impromptu celebration is in order.
Pi collapses onto Jin’s couch a few hours later and won’t wake up, not even when Koki dribbles a bit of beer all over his face, so Kame announces that maybe it’s time for the two of them to leave. They’re heading out the door when Jin asks Kame to stay a moment longer.
“Hey,” he says, once Kame’s turned around, “thanks for that.”
“I didn’t bring the pizza,” Kame says, but he’s kind of avoiding Jin’s gaze and looking really sheepish and yeah, he knows what Jin is talking about.
“Oh don’t be stupid, Kame,” Jin replies, rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean. Just, this role is going to be awesome,” he says giddily, because just talking about it makes him excited. “And I’m pretty sure I owe it all to you.”
“You’re going to be great,” is all Kame says, and okay, now he’s blushing.
“I… I’m going to hug you right now,” Jin blurts out, and he immediately wants to take it back, because now Kame just looks horrified.
But then again he didn’t say no, so Jin just goes for it.
“Thanks,” he mumbles into Kame’s shoulder, squeezing a bit desperately because he really is incredibly grateful, though he really, really hopes Kame doesn’t notice. “Thank you.”
“Um,” is all Kame says.
Jin pulls away then, fervently wishing they were hugging again, but Kame looks about ready to have a conniption, and since Jin truly doesn’t want to be forced to hire a new manager, he wisely restrains himself. “Well,” he says awkwardly, smoothing down the lapel of Kame’s jacket, from where it got wrinkled from the hug. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Jin,” Kame says, still a little red, and he turns away with a shaky wave. He gets in his Prius and Jin watches until the car is out of sight.
He goes to bed smiling.
The next morning he’s on the production company’s private jet, and by one in the afternoon he’s on the set of Shogun.
Yeah, it was fucking surreal.
“Guys, listen up!” Takita calls out over the low buzz of conversation. The film crew is crammed together in a conference room, all seated around a square formation of tables. Jin is sitting to the right of his co-star Nakamaru; they’d done Pond together, and ran in the same circles back in Tokyo, so they’re already inseparable. They both giggle conspiringly before grinning up at the director.
“Okay, people, we’re doing this read-through today only, so let’s make it count,” Takita announces. “Then we’re diving right into filming tomorrow, so I want all your asses in at six, alright?”
“Any idea when we’ll get a concrete shooting schedule?” one of the producers asks. Jin thinks his name is Jun.
“I’m still going over that with Akito,” Takita replies, nodding at the film’s cinematographer. “But we’ll have it to you by Friday at the very latest. I do know we’ll be shooting the war council scenes first, because Taisuke,” this time he nods at one of the actors Jin hasn’t met yet, “will be leaving for Tokyo again in a couple days. After that, it’s straight into the Oda-Mori scenes a lá Brokeback Mountain.”
Jin whistles, low and suggestive, and Maru jabs him in the stomach with his rolled-up script.
“Look, they’re already practicing,” Jun calls out, and the whole room erupts into laughter.
“Funny,” Jin yells back sarcastically, but he can’t help the grin.
“Well, I guess now is an opportune time to introduce you all to Akanishi Jin,” Takita says over the laughter. “So, this is Jin.” Jin waves. “He just got in this afternoon; he’ll be replacing Ryo as Nobunaga.”
There’s applause and some catcalls, and Jin grins sheepishly, rubbing at his nose.
“Alright, I think that about covers it,” Takita says, and then he stands up, nodding at the table at large. “Let’s take this from the top.”
Seven hours later and they only just finished their table read. Jin stretches his arms above his head and sighs contentedly; he loves making movies.
Maru nudges him with an elbow, and Jin stops mid-stretch to look at him. “Wanna go?” his co-star asks, motioning his head towards the door, and Jin gets up to leave.
“Hey, Jin,” Takita calls suddenly from across the room, “stay behind a moment?”
“Sure,” he says brightly, and swats at Maru’s ass when the bastard just sniggers. But then he’s gone and Jin sits alone, waiting for the director to approach him.
Jin kind of wonders what Takita wants, but mostly just wonders what’s for dinner, and if he didn’t want to ask the director a question or two about Ryo leaving the production, he’d probably be figuring out an excuse to leave. He is like, a hundred percent sure Kame was the cause of Ryo’s desertion, but there’s always the off-hand chance that the other actor left by choice and, well, whatever the case, he just- he wants to make sure.
“Jin,” Takita says warmly when the last of the crew files out of the conference room. “I want you to know how fucking glad we all are that you took over Ryo’s role. He left so suddenly we thought the whole movie would fall apart.”
“I was happy enough to do it,” Jin says, looking down at the table in slight embarrassment. For all that he acts like a tough guy, he’s really just a modest, easily-mortified softy at heart.
“Didn’t even know you were interested in the project,” Takita mentions, leaning forward in his chair to regard Jin more closely. “We must not have sent your manager a script; I would have loved you as Nobunaga from the get-go.”
Jin nervously rubs his nose and stays quiet - informing the director of the reason he hadn’t showed interest in the script before is probably not the wisest course of action at this point.
“Hey, um,” he begins, not sure how to voice his suspicions without sounding too invested in the answer. “What made Ryo leave in the first place?”
“Hell if I know,” Takita sighs. “He was doing some fittings with Aya-san- she’s in the costume department, great gal-when he stepped out to take a call. Never came back; literally walked off the set in a kabuto12.”
Jin laughs aloud. “Oh, I would’ve loved to see that.”
“I shouldn’t be saying this but,” Takita hesitates, but leans in closer and says, conspiringly, “I fucking wish I’d seen it too.”
“No doubt,” Jin agrees with a grin.
“Still,” the director continues, “the fact of the matter is, no one knows why he left.” He shrugs. “He seemed so gung-ho to start this project, and then to disappear like that; it’s quite baffling.”
Jin smiles inwardly. So it must’ve been Kame; it had to have been. No way Ryo would just up and leave production unless that phone call was from Kame. It just… it had to have been Kame.
But what exactly had Kame done?
“Well, it all worked out in the end,” Jin says, and although questions are still swirling about in his head, he knows they’re nothing Takita can answer.
“Oh for you it certainly did,” the director says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Just, for goodness’ sake, Jin, don’t walk out on me in a kabuto.”
Jin gives Takita a winning grin. “I’ll try my best not to.”
* * *
If there’s one thing Jin has learned in this industry, it’s that you don’t put any stock in luck. So Ryo leaving the film, that wasn’t luck-it wasn’t even coincidence. It was all on Kame.
Jin flops out on his hotel bed, face down and limbs askew, and frowns in thought. It’s almost too much to contemplate - thinking of what Kame had done, what he’d had to do, all to get him some stupid part. That idiot had probably worked his ass off, calling in favors and screeching at people over the phone and stressing way too much and drinking a gazillion cups of coffee just to stay awake, like he always does when has too much work to do and not enough balls to just blow it all off. Jin can picture it; Kame standing there alone in his office, his tie loosened and his hair in disarray, barking at his phone, or maybe zipping around town in his Prius, catching meetings and barging into offices unannounced.
Okay, so now Jin feels guilty, because maybe he’d gotten a little carried away in his desperation to get the part. He put Kame up to all this without thinking; because of course Kame would do everything humanly possible to get Ryo off the movie, and all for Jin.
All for…. Jin.
And there’s something else that’s bugging him. Kame isn’t at all full of himself, but Jin has never known him to be, well, quiet when it comes to taking the credit owed to him. So why hadn’t Kame called him the second Ryo left the film, or at least told him at the party, kindly listing off all the things he’d done to get the role for Jin and all the things Jin can do for him in thanks.
Jin hums in thought, and suddenly there’s a little flurry of hope building in his chest; because Jin has some idea of what Kame had to do, and no one--no one--would do that for someone they just consider a client.
It’s times like these that Jin wishes he had an assistant, but he has the next best thing; he calls Junno.
“You’ve reached the desk of Kamenashi Kazuya,” Junno answers brightly. “How may I help you?”
“Get me Ryo’s number,” Jin demands. “I need to get to the bottom of this.”
* * *
When a smiling Jin barges into his office at nine AM Thursday morning, Kame’s first reaction is pure, unadulterated joy. But then he remembers himself and gives Jin his best scowl.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in Kyoto?” Kame asks.
“Yes. Technically. But right now I’m in your office, so shush” Jin admonishes, and then stares at Kame intently. He blinks, then sniffs his nose and promptly sits down in the chair across from Kame’s desk.
“So I talked to Ryo this morning,” he says.
Kame freezes, and when he realizes his mouth is hanging open snaps his jaws closed with a click.
“Oh did you?” he manages, his voice shot. He clears his throat nervously, and wonders if running out the door screaming would be too embarrassing to have to explain later.
“And you know what he told me?” Jin continues, leaning forward in his chair intently. “He told me you called him, practically begging him to drop the movie. And that when he refused, you offered to represent him for the rest of his career for half the pay.” He seems to pause there for dramatic effect, because in the long run that kind of deal would easily equal five times the monetary value of some stupid part in some stupid movie, and that’s kind of a Big Deal. “Also, Kame?” he adds warmly, “You hate Ryo.”
“Like I need the reminder,” Kame scoffs, and now all he wants to do is curl up in a ball and die.
“Yeah, well,” Jin begins, and then he smiles. “But that’s not the end of it, Kame. Because then Ryo told me he agreed to the deal on one condition; he made you wash his cars. That’s kind of grody right there, but then he taped it.” Jin laughs. “Still can’t believe you did that.”
Kame stays quiet, instead staring intensely at the top of his desk. He can feel the blush rising along his neck, and his ears are burning and oh god, what did he do to deserve this?
“So I have only one question for you, Kame… why?”
“Jin, I-I did it for you,” he admits, rubbing at his face tiredly, “I mean, I could tell it was important to you.”
“But see, that’s not something you do for clients, Kame,” Jin points out, “or at least for people who are just clients,” and there’s a swooping feeling rolling around in Kame’s stomach that makes him feel like throwing up and he realizes for certain that Jin knows.
Kame braces himself for the worst.
“Tell me I’m not reading this all wrong,” Jin says calmly.
“Jin, I-”
“Because I don’t want to be wrong,” Jin interrupts, before he leans across the table and kisses him.
There’s no fireworks, no fanfare of trumpets, no choir of angels singing to the heavens, and it’s all kind of awkward, because Jin is leaning across a desk and the edges are digging into Kame’s stomach and also Kame’s definitely about to die from shock. But Kame’s heart is beating away a mile a minute and Jin is smiling into his mouth, so he figures that first kisses don’t always have to be perfect anyway.
Jin pulls away, but not far enough for Kame to protest. “You just kissed me back, right?” he asks, a little out of breath, “You’re not going to punch me?”
“No,” Kame replies softly. “I’ve wanted you to do that for years.”
Jin makes a choking sound. “And you never told me?”
“I never, I mean… you date girls. You never seemed interested, and--”
“I’m an actor, Kazuya,” Jin says with an affectionate laugh. “What else did you expect?”
And then Kame’s insides go to jelly because that’s the first time Jin ever called him Kazuya, and when Jin leans in to kiss him again, Kame’s heart kind of swells to twice its normal size and yeah, he’s most definitely in love.
* * *
Eight Months or Something Later:
“This is the premiere to your movie, Jin. You couldn’t have at least skipped the sneakers?”
Jin settles back into the limo’s leather seat and grins lecherously at Kame around a flute of champagne. “They give my suit flair,” Jin explains, and holds back a laugh when Kame glares.
“Well at least they’re clean,” Kame says, eyeing Jin’s shoes like they’re the vilest things he’s ever laid eyes upon.
It makes him want to kiss Kame, so he does.
“Not right now, Jin,” Kame hisses angrily, and he shoves Jin away. “We’re in public.”
Jin huffs; he can’t believe he was just cock-blocked by his own boyfriend. “You are way too paranoid,” he says bitterly, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly.
“Yeah, well,” Kame begins, pulling on the cuffs of his suit nervously, “You can’t- just don’t tell anyone who I am beyond being your manager, okay?”
“You’ve told me that a thousand times, Kame,” Jin exclaims, and now he’s just exasperated. “Though I still don’t see why I can’t-“
“Shall I go over the list with you again? Would that help?”
“No,” Jin sighs. He’s smart; he knows when to give up.
The limo slows down, and Jin can hear the muffled cheer of the crowd as it pulls up to the curb.
“You ready?” he asks, and Kame nods wordlessly, clearly still anxious. He sighs. “I’ll be fine, we’ll be fine. This is my fucking premiere, man. It’s going to be great.”
“I’ve got no doubt about that,” Kame says, and then he shoves Jin towards the door.
Jin shakes his head, but he puts on his winning smile, takes a deep breath, and steps out onto the red carpet.
The cameras are flashing, the crowds are cheering his name, and Jin would be lying if he said he didn’t love this.
“Let’s go talk to Angie,” he says to Kame, having already spotted his favorite E! 13 interviewer over near the barriers, calling his name.
“Jin,” she says when they walk up.
“So this is Kame,” he blurts triumphantly, and because his head-to-mouth filter has never been very effective then says, “He’s my boyfriend.”
Kame groans in disbelief, but the corners of his mouth curl up in an exasperated smile, and Jin knows he’s done okay.
END.
By: korn_lotr_luver
Pairing: Akame
Word count: 5,912
Rating: PG-13
Genre/Warnings: Romance, Hollywood AU
Notes: Heavily influenced by the TV show Entourage, but you don’t need to have seen it for this to make any sense :D Also, thank you to J and M for the beta-ing expertise, and B and S for the hand-holding. I do hope you like this, flamesword!
Summary: Jin is an international movie star. Kame is his long-suffering manager. Also, Jin’s next role is a gay samurai.
Akanishi Jin is one of the lucky ones; the first role he ever lands puts him on the A-list and keeps him there.
Fresh out of acting school, he’s cast as the younger brother of a serial killer on the run, whose untimely death brings about his brother’s confession. It’s a small role but an important one, and with Paul Haggis1 helming the project as both writer and director, Treading Water sweeps through the festival circuit like a snowstorm, ultimately leaving Haggis with his third Oscar win and Jin with his very first.
He rides the wave of his success for quite awhile, landing such roles as a nervous paralegal who falls in love with the wrong woman in George Clooney’s As You See It; the traitorous Captain of the US Navy in Kathryn Bigelow’s2 Maritime; the pivotal leader of a rival Na’vi clan in James Cameron’s Avatar 2; and even replacing James Franco as Kaneda Shotaro in Albert Hughes’s3 re-make of Akira.
But there are few roles in white-washed Hollywood for Asian-Americans, even those as beloved and talented at Jin. There’s a lull in his career that even his agent can’t fill, but that’s when Takita Yojiro4 approaches him with a proposition; a re-envisioning of Martin Scorsese’s The Departed, set in the world of the yakuza. Though born and raised in America, Jin is fluent in Japanese and is seemingly perfect for the film, and with the reassurance that Scorsese himself is an executive producer, accepts the role Leonardo DiCaprio once played. The movie is a major hit, well received by critics and viewers alike, and it puts him back on the map.
Though this time around, it’s Tokyo that’s knocking.
Japan loves him; despite his American upbringing he’s one of them, and his previous success in Hollywood only serves to heighten their fervor. He’s offered part after part, until the scripts pile up on his manager’s desk, too many to read, too many to consider. He voices the boy-turned-frog protagonist in Miyazaki’s Pond. He stars as the emotionally unstable, cocaine-addicted stage actor in Yamada Yoji’s5 film Two for the Show. He jump-starts the up-and-coming Miyagi Ken’s** career, starring in and financing his movie Kuro, in which he plays a troubled man who falls in love with his sister’s therapist.
But it’s Jin’s second film with Takita Yojiro, the controversial Oda Nobunaga biopic Shogun-a movie that depicts Nobunaga’s infamous relationship with Mori Ranmaru-that is Akanishi Jin’s most significant role.
Yes, Shogun will eventually be the first ever completely foreign film to take home the Oscar for Best Picture. And yes, it will be because of this movie that Jin becomes the most celebrated Asian-American actor in the history of film.
But the real reason-the true reason-happens before any of this occurs, because Jin doesn’t get the part of Oda Nobunaga as easily as he would have liked; it’s the tireless efforts of his manager, Kamenashi Kazuya, that eventually put these life-changing events in motion.
* * *
It’s Monday morning, and he is actually on time; Jin kind of wants to pinch himself.
“This script is perfection,” he exclaims instead, determinedly bursting through the double-doors of Kame’s office at nine o’clock sharp. “I want it.” He slaps a hefty stack of pages onto his manager’s desk before collapsing onto the office’s leather couch, his giant grey hoodie billowing out as he sits.
Kame sighs through his nose, leaning back in his chair and regarding Jin through narrowed eyes.
“If I don’t get this part, I’ll die,” Jin moans, and throws an arm over his face in true dramatic fashion. “I’ll lock myself in the bathroom and… and shoot myself with Koki’s gun!”
“So are you going to die or just kill yourself?” Kame asks calmly, and Jin is a little put out to realize that Kame isn’t taking him seriously. “Because from what you just said it’s difficult to tell.”
“I am offended right now; this is my offended face,” Jin wails, and he wrinkles his nose when Kame’s expression turns smug. “You never take me seriously.”
Kame shrugs. “I’ve never seen a reason to.”
“How about losing me as a client?” he points out. “That’s a good reason; did you ever think of that?”
Kame laughs now, a low chuckle that has Jin crossing his arms defiantly before he even realizes it’s happening. “Jin, if you think you’re my only A-Lister client…”
“No, of course I don’t,” Jin admonishes, and briefly wonders why Kame puts up with him if he thinks Jin has no brains.
“Then what--“
“But I know I’m your favorite.”
Kame immediately turns a delicious bright red, and when his hand shoots up to tight his tie in that wonderful nervous habit of his, Jin holds back a grin.
Victory.
“And as your favorite client,” Jin persists, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, “I think it’s only fair you do extra-special things for me. Like look at scripts. Take, for instance, this one right here,” he segues neatly, nudging the forgotten script across the messy desk until it nearly falls into Kame’s lap. “Kame, just look at it.”
Kame clears his throat uncertainly, but still manages to swat Jin’s hand away in order to give the script a glance. “Shogun,” he reads from the title page. “Written by Koyama Kundo6.” He flips through the pages briefly then sighs. “Jin, I handed this script to you three weeks ago.”
“No, dude, I think I’d-,“ and then he remembers: there’s another copy of Shogun sitting on his kitchen table at home, gathering dust amongst the countless other scripts that have all been forgotten. “Oh,” he says, scratching at his neck sheepishly. “Okay, so maybe you did.”
“So who showed this to you then? Koki?”
Jin nods in assent.
“What about your agent showing it to you is any different from what I do?” Kame questions adamantly, and then he does that thing where he frowns with his eyebrows and looks angry, but Jin’s knows Kame, and recognizes that expression for what it truly is, though Kame would never be caught dead admitting it; jealousy.
Jin’s grin is sheepish. “You know how the man gets,” he says, rolling his eyes, but Kame shakes his head. “Oh come the fuck on, Kame,” Jin groans. “Koki shoves scripts down my throat like it’s a freaking blow job. All you do is hand me a stack of them a mile high every Friday and expect me to read them all over the weekend. I have a life, you know. There are like… parties.”
“Parties,” Kame says evenly. “Parties.”
“I know what I said, Kame, god.”
“And that kind of bullshit excuse doesn’t even warrant an answer.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter why I didn’t read it earlier. Because I did. And that’s all that…,” but he trails off, because now Kame is looking like a kid caught red-handed with his arm in the cookie jar and that’s just not cool. “What,” he prods, and tries not to notice how his stomach just sank into the floor. “What.”
“Nishikido Ryo is already locked in as Nobunaga. Jin, filming for the movie starts in Kyoto in four days.”
“No. What? No.” He shoots up from the couch, and points an accusatory finger at Kame. “I don’t believe it. Because this part was made for me, and do you know how long I’ve wanted to play Oda Nobunaga in something like this? How did that ape even get the part?”
“I got the e-mail from Takita’s assistant yesterday; want to see it?” Kame challenges, promptly reaching out to turn his computer screen towards Jin. Jin flips the screen back around just as quickly. What he really wants to do is pick the damn thing up and smash it down on the desk, but he must admit it wouldn’t be very appropriate.
“I don’t want to see that shit,” he moans, and collapses back down on the couch, sprawling across the cushions. “How could this have happened?”
“Don’t give me that, Jin,” Kame snaps, rolling his eyes when Jin whimpers. “Not when it’s your own damn laziness that put you into this position in the first place.”
“My own laziness?” Jin sputters, but then he makes himself actually stop and think about it and, okay, yeah, maybe it is. “It’s over then… Fuck. I wanted this part. I really wanted it.”
Damn it. With such a long streak of successes in Japan, he’d started to believe that he could get any role he wanted, and he really wanted this one. Fuck.
But wait. Wait. This is stupid; he’s being stupid. He’s Akanishi Jin, a renowned, and dare he say, beloved actor, and his manager is Kamenashi Kazuya, probably the best most powerful manager in all of Tokyo, maybe of the whole goddamned business, (Ari Gold 7 aside.) If that doesn’t mean something in this town, Jin doesn’t know what will; and he is not going to give up this role of a lifetime without a fight.
Or at least making Kame do it for him.
“Now wait a second, Kame, wait,” he exclaims. “I know I can get this part. I just know it.”
Kame looks at him funny, like maybe he thinks Jin isn’t quite all there. “No, see, I don’t think you understand, Jin,” Kame eventually says, slowly, as if explaining some complicated math problem to a child. “The movie’s already done with pre-production. It’s casted, funded… it’s not- you just can’t get at it anymore.”
“Well I certainly can’t,” Jin says, nodding his head in agreement. “But you certainly can.”
Kame huffs out a laugh. “Your confidence in me is inspiring,” Kame says dryly, before tiredly pushing a hand through his long brown locks, “But it’s impossible. It can’t be done. Ryo might have already been paid.”
“Then un-pay him.”
“You can’t just… you can’t.”
“Kame,” he retorts. “I’ve seen you stare down Johnny Kitagawa, and I’m pretty sure that man doesn’t even feel human emotion. If you can do that, you can do anything.”
Kame furrows his brow in deliberation, eyes nearly slits as he stares Jin down from across the desk. Jin smiles encouragingly but he can already tell it’s an unnecessary gesture; for whatever reason, Kame’s mind is already made up. “You know what you’re asking? You know what you want me to do?” Kame still asks, cautious.
Jin doesn’t even hesitate. “The impossible, right? Just another Monday for you anyhow.”
Kame just gives him a long-suffering sigh, and that’s as much a ‘yes’ as Jin will ever get. He gets up from the couch, shaking a fist at Kame in victory as he moves towards the door. “Yeah. Now call me when you hear something good, alright?”
He leaves.
* * *
Kame sees the title of the script the second it lands on his desk.
He sees the title and he knows what it is and he knows immediately how it’s going to go.
Kame’s going to tell him the script-the movie-is gone, already green-lit; casted and funded by the most prominent indie production company Japan has to offer. Jin is going to bitch and moan and complain and Kame is going to let him, just as he’s going to let Jin ‘convince’ him even when he’s already convinced, because from the second that script touched down on his desk Kame is preparing for what he’s eventually going to be asked to do: achieve the impossible.
And he’s going to do it, beg and bribe and blackmail his way through the back-lots and the alleyways and the office buildings of Japan’s movie industry, until this impossible task is taken care of.
Because that rule he has about not falling in love with clients? Yeah, that never really counted when it came to Jin.
“God dammit,” he says calmly, though he’s only holding back a slew of harsher words on principle alone. He takes a swig of his now-cold coffee, loosens his tie and reaches a steady hand towards the headset of his phone.
He’s going to need to make some calls.
* * *
Jin is never too tired of saying it: Kame can work miracles.
“Akanishi-san? This is Fukazawa Akemi, from Shochiku Company, Limited8. Takita would like to officially extend you an offer of gratitude for you so graciously filling the part of Oda Nobunaga after Nishikido-san’s regretful departure.”
“Are you listening to the message?” Jin hisses, as he pauses the voicemail. He looks desperately over at his couch, where his friend Pi is currently submerged in a sea of throw pillows. “Did you hear what she said?”
There’s a rumble from where Pi’s face should be. Jin nudges him with a foot. Pi flaps a tired hand in Jin’s direction.
“Dude, come on, this is like, the best moment of my life.”
Pi resurfaces from his pillow fortress with a groan. “Then play the rest of the goddamn message,” he mutters, before flopping back down and disappearing into the mound of cushions.
Jin situates himself more comfortably on his loveseat. “Just because you shot that lame-o PV of yours today doesn’t mean you can be so rude.”
Pi flips him off.
“If you didn’t have all the pillows pilled under your fat carcass right now, I’d throw one at you,” Jin warns, but he sensibly ignores Pi’s taunts and plays the rest of the message.
“A private jet will be made available to take you to Kyoto at your earliest convenience. More information will be sent to your manager and agent, who will then inform you of further details. Goodbye, and thank you, Akanishi-san.”
There’s a flurry of movement as the message ends, and a few pillows fall softly from the couch to reveal Pi’s tired face. “That was definitely rehearsed,” he drones.
“Does it matter?” Jin breathes out, ignoring that familiar itching feeling to play the message just one more time. Then again, he’s already listened to it six times today. A seventh listen wouldn’t hurt, right? “I’m playing Nobu-fucking-naga in a Takita movie.”
“Why you’re this excited to play a gay samurai in something everyone on this godforsaken planet will see is beyond me,” Pi mutters. Jin jabs him in the side with his toe.
“So who’s playing your lover then?” Pi screeches breathlessly, and more pillows fall from the couch as he squirms away from Jin’s relentless attack. “I bet you wish Kame would play Mori just so you could kiss him.”
Jin ignores the sudden bubble of pleasure that rises in his chest at the mention of Kame kissing. And that Pi mentioned Kame kissing him... “Nakamaru Yuichi,” Jin snaps when he remembers himself. “And I do not.”
“’Kame can work miracles,’ ‘Kame’s so cool,’ ‘Kame’s so smart,’” Pi mocks, in a voice two octaves above anything remotely human. “If that doesn’t mean you want in his pants I don’t know what does.”
“Idiot, that does not sound like me.”
“All of that,” Pi says gleefully, “and you only object to my voice.”
“Well I don’t disagree?” Jin offers, and when Pi simply blinks at him, he sighs. “What I’m saying is… Dude, there’s just, there’s a lot of people who fall into the category of me wanting to bone them, alright? But not everyone returns those sentiments, so it doesn’t always… happen.”
Pi sits up abruptly, looking at Jin like he’s completely taken aback. “Really?”
“What do you mean… ‘really’?
“I mean, you admit to liking Kame?” Pi asks incredulously. “Seriously, just like that?” He laughs manically, yanking his cell from the front pocket of his jeans and flipping it open. “Toma owes me big-time,” he cackles, and his fingers fly click-clack, click-clack across the keys.
“Seriously?” Jin asks in disbelief. “You idiots have a bet?” Pi gives him this shit-eating grin without even looking up from his phone.
“Well it’s not like anything’s ever going to come of it, Pi,” he scoffs bitterly. “He’d sooner jump off like, the Rainbow Bridge or the Tokyo Tower or, or something, than date a client-than date me,” he amends bitterly.
Pi’s fingers pause over the keypad, and he squints at Jin, before his eyebrows shoot up high on his forehead. Jin shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“You could be wrong about that. Because what he did-probably did-getting Ryo to drop the role and all that, it was kinda impossible,” Pi eventually points out. “Makes you wonder what he did, and, more importantly, why he did it.”
Jin eyes Pi suspiciously. “What exactly are you trying to say here?”
“That maybe,” he exclaims brightly, “you’ll get into his pants after all!”
“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Jin scoffs, even as Pi’s suspicions make something in his chest twinge painfully. “Right.”
Pi shrugs. “I’m just putting it out there; take it or leave it.”
“Well, you’re- you’re wrong,” Jin shoots back. “I know Kame better than you do, and I know that’ll never happen.”
“Suit yourself,” Pi says, and then throws a pillow at him.
The pillow fight that ensues is the stuff of legends, and even Jin’s new movie role is soon forgotten.
* * *
It’s kind of surreal how quickly Jin finds himself at a table-read9 with the cast of Shogun.
It takes all of three hours after listening to the message before Kame and Koki are both pounding on his front door. He leaves them to suffer a bit on his doorstep, quoting lines from Inception through the intercom just because he can.
“YOU’RE WAITING FOR A TRAIN,” he yells in his best Marion10 voice.
“You’re waiting for me to drive my Maserati11 through your fucking foyer, you mean, dipshit,” Koki snaps.
Jin lets them inside after that.
Koki lectures and Kame scolds and Jin tries his very best to pay attention. Thankfully Pi comes to his rescue a few hours later after Jin sends a desperate text, and when he arrives with a stack of pizzas and a box of booze an impromptu celebration is in order.
Pi collapses onto Jin’s couch a few hours later and won’t wake up, not even when Koki dribbles a bit of beer all over his face, so Kame announces that maybe it’s time for the two of them to leave. They’re heading out the door when Jin asks Kame to stay a moment longer.
“Hey,” he says, once Kame’s turned around, “thanks for that.”
“I didn’t bring the pizza,” Kame says, but he’s kind of avoiding Jin’s gaze and looking really sheepish and yeah, he knows what Jin is talking about.
“Oh don’t be stupid, Kame,” Jin replies, rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean. Just, this role is going to be awesome,” he says giddily, because just talking about it makes him excited. “And I’m pretty sure I owe it all to you.”
“You’re going to be great,” is all Kame says, and okay, now he’s blushing.
“I… I’m going to hug you right now,” Jin blurts out, and he immediately wants to take it back, because now Kame just looks horrified.
But then again he didn’t say no, so Jin just goes for it.
“Thanks,” he mumbles into Kame’s shoulder, squeezing a bit desperately because he really is incredibly grateful, though he really, really hopes Kame doesn’t notice. “Thank you.”
“Um,” is all Kame says.
Jin pulls away then, fervently wishing they were hugging again, but Kame looks about ready to have a conniption, and since Jin truly doesn’t want to be forced to hire a new manager, he wisely restrains himself. “Well,” he says awkwardly, smoothing down the lapel of Kame’s jacket, from where it got wrinkled from the hug. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Jin,” Kame says, still a little red, and he turns away with a shaky wave. He gets in his Prius and Jin watches until the car is out of sight.
He goes to bed smiling.
The next morning he’s on the production company’s private jet, and by one in the afternoon he’s on the set of Shogun.
Yeah, it was fucking surreal.
“Guys, listen up!” Takita calls out over the low buzz of conversation. The film crew is crammed together in a conference room, all seated around a square formation of tables. Jin is sitting to the right of his co-star Nakamaru; they’d done Pond together, and ran in the same circles back in Tokyo, so they’re already inseparable. They both giggle conspiringly before grinning up at the director.
“Okay, people, we’re doing this read-through today only, so let’s make it count,” Takita announces. “Then we’re diving right into filming tomorrow, so I want all your asses in at six, alright?”
“Any idea when we’ll get a concrete shooting schedule?” one of the producers asks. Jin thinks his name is Jun.
“I’m still going over that with Akito,” Takita replies, nodding at the film’s cinematographer. “But we’ll have it to you by Friday at the very latest. I do know we’ll be shooting the war council scenes first, because Taisuke,” this time he nods at one of the actors Jin hasn’t met yet, “will be leaving for Tokyo again in a couple days. After that, it’s straight into the Oda-Mori scenes a lá Brokeback Mountain.”
Jin whistles, low and suggestive, and Maru jabs him in the stomach with his rolled-up script.
“Look, they’re already practicing,” Jun calls out, and the whole room erupts into laughter.
“Funny,” Jin yells back sarcastically, but he can’t help the grin.
“Well, I guess now is an opportune time to introduce you all to Akanishi Jin,” Takita says over the laughter. “So, this is Jin.” Jin waves. “He just got in this afternoon; he’ll be replacing Ryo as Nobunaga.”
There’s applause and some catcalls, and Jin grins sheepishly, rubbing at his nose.
“Alright, I think that about covers it,” Takita says, and then he stands up, nodding at the table at large. “Let’s take this from the top.”
Seven hours later and they only just finished their table read. Jin stretches his arms above his head and sighs contentedly; he loves making movies.
Maru nudges him with an elbow, and Jin stops mid-stretch to look at him. “Wanna go?” his co-star asks, motioning his head towards the door, and Jin gets up to leave.
“Hey, Jin,” Takita calls suddenly from across the room, “stay behind a moment?”
“Sure,” he says brightly, and swats at Maru’s ass when the bastard just sniggers. But then he’s gone and Jin sits alone, waiting for the director to approach him.
Jin kind of wonders what Takita wants, but mostly just wonders what’s for dinner, and if he didn’t want to ask the director a question or two about Ryo leaving the production, he’d probably be figuring out an excuse to leave. He is like, a hundred percent sure Kame was the cause of Ryo’s desertion, but there’s always the off-hand chance that the other actor left by choice and, well, whatever the case, he just- he wants to make sure.
“Jin,” Takita says warmly when the last of the crew files out of the conference room. “I want you to know how fucking glad we all are that you took over Ryo’s role. He left so suddenly we thought the whole movie would fall apart.”
“I was happy enough to do it,” Jin says, looking down at the table in slight embarrassment. For all that he acts like a tough guy, he’s really just a modest, easily-mortified softy at heart.
“Didn’t even know you were interested in the project,” Takita mentions, leaning forward in his chair to regard Jin more closely. “We must not have sent your manager a script; I would have loved you as Nobunaga from the get-go.”
Jin nervously rubs his nose and stays quiet - informing the director of the reason he hadn’t showed interest in the script before is probably not the wisest course of action at this point.
“Hey, um,” he begins, not sure how to voice his suspicions without sounding too invested in the answer. “What made Ryo leave in the first place?”
“Hell if I know,” Takita sighs. “He was doing some fittings with Aya-san- she’s in the costume department, great gal-when he stepped out to take a call. Never came back; literally walked off the set in a kabuto12.”
Jin laughs aloud. “Oh, I would’ve loved to see that.”
“I shouldn’t be saying this but,” Takita hesitates, but leans in closer and says, conspiringly, “I fucking wish I’d seen it too.”
“No doubt,” Jin agrees with a grin.
“Still,” the director continues, “the fact of the matter is, no one knows why he left.” He shrugs. “He seemed so gung-ho to start this project, and then to disappear like that; it’s quite baffling.”
Jin smiles inwardly. So it must’ve been Kame; it had to have been. No way Ryo would just up and leave production unless that phone call was from Kame. It just… it had to have been Kame.
But what exactly had Kame done?
“Well, it all worked out in the end,” Jin says, and although questions are still swirling about in his head, he knows they’re nothing Takita can answer.
“Oh for you it certainly did,” the director says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Just, for goodness’ sake, Jin, don’t walk out on me in a kabuto.”
Jin gives Takita a winning grin. “I’ll try my best not to.”
* * *
If there’s one thing Jin has learned in this industry, it’s that you don’t put any stock in luck. So Ryo leaving the film, that wasn’t luck-it wasn’t even coincidence. It was all on Kame.
Jin flops out on his hotel bed, face down and limbs askew, and frowns in thought. It’s almost too much to contemplate - thinking of what Kame had done, what he’d had to do, all to get him some stupid part. That idiot had probably worked his ass off, calling in favors and screeching at people over the phone and stressing way too much and drinking a gazillion cups of coffee just to stay awake, like he always does when has too much work to do and not enough balls to just blow it all off. Jin can picture it; Kame standing there alone in his office, his tie loosened and his hair in disarray, barking at his phone, or maybe zipping around town in his Prius, catching meetings and barging into offices unannounced.
Okay, so now Jin feels guilty, because maybe he’d gotten a little carried away in his desperation to get the part. He put Kame up to all this without thinking; because of course Kame would do everything humanly possible to get Ryo off the movie, and all for Jin.
All for…. Jin.
And there’s something else that’s bugging him. Kame isn’t at all full of himself, but Jin has never known him to be, well, quiet when it comes to taking the credit owed to him. So why hadn’t Kame called him the second Ryo left the film, or at least told him at the party, kindly listing off all the things he’d done to get the role for Jin and all the things Jin can do for him in thanks.
Jin hums in thought, and suddenly there’s a little flurry of hope building in his chest; because Jin has some idea of what Kame had to do, and no one--no one--would do that for someone they just consider a client.
It’s times like these that Jin wishes he had an assistant, but he has the next best thing; he calls Junno.
“You’ve reached the desk of Kamenashi Kazuya,” Junno answers brightly. “How may I help you?”
“Get me Ryo’s number,” Jin demands. “I need to get to the bottom of this.”
* * *
When a smiling Jin barges into his office at nine AM Thursday morning, Kame’s first reaction is pure, unadulterated joy. But then he remembers himself and gives Jin his best scowl.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in Kyoto?” Kame asks.
“Yes. Technically. But right now I’m in your office, so shush” Jin admonishes, and then stares at Kame intently. He blinks, then sniffs his nose and promptly sits down in the chair across from Kame’s desk.
“So I talked to Ryo this morning,” he says.
Kame freezes, and when he realizes his mouth is hanging open snaps his jaws closed with a click.
“Oh did you?” he manages, his voice shot. He clears his throat nervously, and wonders if running out the door screaming would be too embarrassing to have to explain later.
“And you know what he told me?” Jin continues, leaning forward in his chair intently. “He told me you called him, practically begging him to drop the movie. And that when he refused, you offered to represent him for the rest of his career for half the pay.” He seems to pause there for dramatic effect, because in the long run that kind of deal would easily equal five times the monetary value of some stupid part in some stupid movie, and that’s kind of a Big Deal. “Also, Kame?” he adds warmly, “You hate Ryo.”
“Like I need the reminder,” Kame scoffs, and now all he wants to do is curl up in a ball and die.
“Yeah, well,” Jin begins, and then he smiles. “But that’s not the end of it, Kame. Because then Ryo told me he agreed to the deal on one condition; he made you wash his cars. That’s kind of grody right there, but then he taped it.” Jin laughs. “Still can’t believe you did that.”
Kame stays quiet, instead staring intensely at the top of his desk. He can feel the blush rising along his neck, and his ears are burning and oh god, what did he do to deserve this?
“So I have only one question for you, Kame… why?”
“Jin, I-I did it for you,” he admits, rubbing at his face tiredly, “I mean, I could tell it was important to you.”
“But see, that’s not something you do for clients, Kame,” Jin points out, “or at least for people who are just clients,” and there’s a swooping feeling rolling around in Kame’s stomach that makes him feel like throwing up and he realizes for certain that Jin knows.
Kame braces himself for the worst.
“Tell me I’m not reading this all wrong,” Jin says calmly.
“Jin, I-”
“Because I don’t want to be wrong,” Jin interrupts, before he leans across the table and kisses him.
There’s no fireworks, no fanfare of trumpets, no choir of angels singing to the heavens, and it’s all kind of awkward, because Jin is leaning across a desk and the edges are digging into Kame’s stomach and also Kame’s definitely about to die from shock. But Kame’s heart is beating away a mile a minute and Jin is smiling into his mouth, so he figures that first kisses don’t always have to be perfect anyway.
Jin pulls away, but not far enough for Kame to protest. “You just kissed me back, right?” he asks, a little out of breath, “You’re not going to punch me?”
“No,” Kame replies softly. “I’ve wanted you to do that for years.”
Jin makes a choking sound. “And you never told me?”
“I never, I mean… you date girls. You never seemed interested, and--”
“I’m an actor, Kazuya,” Jin says with an affectionate laugh. “What else did you expect?”
And then Kame’s insides go to jelly because that’s the first time Jin ever called him Kazuya, and when Jin leans in to kiss him again, Kame’s heart kind of swells to twice its normal size and yeah, he’s most definitely in love.
* * *
Eight Months or Something Later:
“This is the premiere to your movie, Jin. You couldn’t have at least skipped the sneakers?”
Jin settles back into the limo’s leather seat and grins lecherously at Kame around a flute of champagne. “They give my suit flair,” Jin explains, and holds back a laugh when Kame glares.
“Well at least they’re clean,” Kame says, eyeing Jin’s shoes like they’re the vilest things he’s ever laid eyes upon.
It makes him want to kiss Kame, so he does.
“Not right now, Jin,” Kame hisses angrily, and he shoves Jin away. “We’re in public.”
Jin huffs; he can’t believe he was just cock-blocked by his own boyfriend. “You are way too paranoid,” he says bitterly, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly.
“Yeah, well,” Kame begins, pulling on the cuffs of his suit nervously, “You can’t- just don’t tell anyone who I am beyond being your manager, okay?”
“You’ve told me that a thousand times, Kame,” Jin exclaims, and now he’s just exasperated. “Though I still don’t see why I can’t-“
“Shall I go over the list with you again? Would that help?”
“No,” Jin sighs. He’s smart; he knows when to give up.
The limo slows down, and Jin can hear the muffled cheer of the crowd as it pulls up to the curb.
“You ready?” he asks, and Kame nods wordlessly, clearly still anxious. He sighs. “I’ll be fine, we’ll be fine. This is my fucking premiere, man. It’s going to be great.”
“I’ve got no doubt about that,” Kame says, and then he shoves Jin towards the door.
Jin shakes his head, but he puts on his winning smile, takes a deep breath, and steps out onto the red carpet.
The cameras are flashing, the crowds are cheering his name, and Jin would be lying if he said he didn’t love this.
“Let’s go talk to Angie,” he says to Kame, having already spotted his favorite E! 13 interviewer over near the barriers, calling his name.
“Jin,” she says when they walk up.
“So this is Kame,” he blurts triumphantly, and because his head-to-mouth filter has never been very effective then says, “He’s my boyfriend.”
Kame groans in disbelief, but the corners of his mouth curl up in an exasperated smile, and Jin knows he’s done okay.
END.