If You Can Get In [PoT, Niou/Yukimura, Purgatory!verse]
title: If You Can Get In
fandom: Prince of Tennis
pairing: Niou/Yukimura
notes: set in purgatory!verse (clubpurgatory). Niou wants to get in. 2525 words.
prompt: 31_days: 25 December 2006. Nice Work if You Can Get It/ And if you can get it, won’t you tell me how
"I heard from an acquaintance that there's this new club," Oshitari begins; it's early, before practice officially begins, but they are all there, waiting. "They're looking for a regular band to start performing."
"Why would we want to perform at a club?" Atobe demands, looking at his watch. "We want a record deal, not things like that."
"It might get us to that point," Niou tells him, only to watch Atobe roll his eyes and pick up his guitar. "And get us some exposure."
"We'll get all the exposure we need when we get signed. Besides, committing ourselves to one place is hardly exposure." Atobe shrugs, picking up his guitar. "We have to practice for now, we'll discuss this later." It's a clear sign that Atobe doesn't want to discuss it.
Niou's lips tighten but he says nothing. Atobe refuses to listen to reason and everyone else seems to go along with him; it's easier. And they are only there to make music.
"Oshitari." Niou corners him after the practice is over. Atobe leaves right away, but the others linger, for a bit. Jirou is asleep on Oshitari's shoulder the moment they stop playing, and it takes a while to rouse him.
"Yes?" Oshitari glances up at him, quirking an eyebrow.
"What is this club you were talking about?"
"You know Atobe won't agree to playing there." Oshitari shifts Jirou from his shoulder and digs through his pocket to fish out a business card. He hold it up, although doesn't let go of it right away.
Niou doesn't tug on the card, doesn't try to pull it away from him, but doesn't let go of the card either. "Who says I'm going to try to get us on stage?" His grin is sharp, wicked. He knows Oshitari can read through him, he's not even trying to hide his true intent, but it doesn't matter. "A new club, looking for bands. Might be an interesting place to visit."
Oshitari studies him for a moment. Jirou opens bleary eyes, realizes he's no longer leaning against Oshitari and promptly rearranges himself so he's resting across his outstretched arm. Oshitari's glasses flash for a second as he looks down at Jirou and lets go of the business card.
-
The club is packed and Niou easily spots a handful of men in suits and ties, looking for all of the world like they just stepped out of a boardroom. It's not hard to guess what they are. And given the industry, Niou is sure there are a half-dozen more mingling in the crowd, looking like the average customer but paying more attention to the band on stage than the girls on the floor.
There's this guy with shockingly pink hair manning the bar. He studies Niou for a second before grinning. "Let me guess, vodka, straight up?"
"Nah," Niou tells him, although the bartender is close; vodka's usually his preference. "Tequila."
"Sure about that?" the guy asks, even as he's setting down a salt shaker, lime wedge, and pouring a healthy shot.
"Normally you'd be right." The shot disappears the moment it's set down on the bar, no chaser, but the salt helps some of the burn, as does the lime. "But I couldn't let you know that right away."
The guy only laughs before moving away to help another customer; Niou doesn't move from his spot though, leaning against the bar to watch the band on stage. They're decent, but not great, not like they deserve to be on the stage. Not in this club, where even Niou can point out the talent scouts and agency reps.
For a brief moment, he thinks about kicking Atobe and demanding the man listen to him, takes a chance on something. But that's not worth thinking about, for the moment. Niou knows he'll figure something out, eventually.
The band finishes and there's a small round of applause, but nothing big, and the curtain drops. There's no encore. Niou doubts they'll be back.
"Want another drink?" the bartender asks and Niou turns his head just a little, looking at him.
"No." The bartender shrugs and moves to walk off and Niou does turn around then, reaching out to grab the bartender by the shirt. "But you can tell me where I can find the owner of this place, a-" he pauses there, to dig out the business card - "Yukimura."
"Why do you wanna talk to Yukimura?" the guy asks. He still looks friendly, easy-going, but there's something different in his eyes. Even though there are at least ten people demanding his attention, he doesn't look away from Niou.
"Someone mentioned he was looking for bands."
"You in a band?" An eyebrow raises, along with a quick glance, and Niou has to smirk at the guy. "You don't look like you're in a band."
"And you don't look like you belong behind a bar, pinkie." Niou lets go of his sleeve. "Tell me where I can find him."
"Hold on," the bartender says, scowling. He glances around, catching someone's eye and waving them over. "Hey, Jackal, this guy wants to see Yukimura."
With that, he is gone, and Niou is left staring at yet another face. He looks nice, friendly, even flashes a grin at Niou. "You want to see the boss?"
"Yeah. I heard he's looking for a band." He's starting to wonder if this guy is actually real - and if he'll get to see him. From the way this Jackal is studying him, it actually surprises him when the guy moves.
"C'mon," he says. "I'll show you to the office."
-
Niou follows Jackal through the club; it's not hard to follow him amongst all of the people, and even the few times that he does get cut off from his guide, Jackal is distinctive enough among the rest of the people that it's only a matter of pushing past the crowd to catch up. The office is on the third floor, and when Niou enters the hall, the noise of the music and the crowd and everything else die away. The hall is almost spooky, but not quite: there's a murmur of voices behind a few of the doors, although nothing loud enough to actually be heard.
"Where is the rest of your band?" Jackal asks, as they walk down the hall. It's quiet enough that a conversation is possible.
"Around." No point in telling anyone that he's actually not there with the rest of his band, that they don't know, and that if he has to actually get them to play at the club, it will require lots of sly talk.
It's obvious, though, and Niou catches the smile Jackal shoots at him, full of pity and something else. "If you can convince them to play here, it's a great place," Jackal tells him. Niou doesn't point out that it's probably a requirement that he has to say such things, considering how he works there.
"Hold on for a second," Jackal tells him and Niou nods, sharp and impatient. Why this guy has such security, or whatever it is he has, is beyond him, but Niou doesn't say anything, only watches as he disappears behind the door.
There is a CD in his pocket, a demo recording done weeks ago, but Niou hopes it'll be enough. If only this Yukimura will give them a chance, he'll get Atobe to the club, on the stage.
It's something, better than what they are doing now.
Jackal steps out a moment later, holding the door open for him, and Niou slips past him. "Thanks, man," he says, and steps into the office.
-
If the club is dark, with only enough light to move about in, then the office is completely opposite: there's enough light in the room to move comfortably, enough to actually work with - and there's a stack of papers on the desk that tells Niou this office isn't simply for ornamentation. It's actually used.
Except there is no one in the chair behind the desk, and Niou's gaze sweeps the room, just as someone does speak.
"Jackal tells me that you're interested in playing for the club." It has to be Yukimura, Niou is sure, because it is his office. And the figure he finally notices, standing in front of the windows that look out into the streets screams that he is in exactly the right place: this Yukimura might be dressed in a suit, with proper tie and coat thrown over the back of his chair, not clothes normally seen in a club, but his presence says he owns it. Controls it.
Suddenly, Niou realizes that it is going to take much more than slipping this man a CD to get his band on stage. But he's afraid of little, and certainly not other people, especially when they smile. Too sweetly, but Niou doesn't care about that.
"Not just me. My band," Niou tells him, and walks further into the office. He drops the CD on the desk and leans against it.
"If your band is interested in playing, then where are they?" Yukimura asks. He turns away from the window, although pauses for a second and reaches behind him, tugs a few strings. The curtains fall shut with hardly a sound, and they are completely alone.
"They don't know I'm here. But they'll agree to it, soon enough."
"I don't like taking uncertain risks." Yukimura walks across the office to the desk, and instead of moving behind it, like any proper businessman, he stands in front of Niou. "I'm Yukimura Seiichi, owner of Purgatory." He extends his hand, pale and delicate.
"Niou Masaharu," Niou tells him, and takes his hand. He's not surprised when Yukimura's grip is surprisingly strong. "And it won't be risky. We're good. You took a risk tonight, having that band earlier play."
Yukimura lets go of his hand, laughing a little. "That was hardly a risk. They did show up. They just happened to not appeal to the audience."
"So if my band was to show up, you'd give us a chance?"
"Hardly." Yukimura steps closer and Niou is trapped between the desk and Yukimura's body. He's not afraid, because Yukimura hardly seems the type to indulge in violence, but he stiffens, a little, and watches the man a little more attentively. There's no telling what he could do. "There are a few ways that people get on Purgatory's stage. None of those ways involve showing up - that just tells me you are serious about commitments - or being good. All being good does is keep you on the stage." Yukimura is smiling, but it's hardly a friendly smile, and between that and how close they are standing, Niou can feel his body start to react.
He was expecting something serious when he arrived; he's expecting something else entirely.
"How do we get on stage?" Niou asks.
"Why are you so curious, if you are not even sure your band will play?"
"I noticed at least six scouts in the audience earlier, and who knows how many more in plain clothes."
"And why wouldn't a music scout stop by a club to enjoy a drink and listen to the new bands, after work?"
"Even if they are here, relaxing after work, they're still music scouts. It's worth taking a chance."
"So you want to play on the stage. You know, if the audience doesn't like your band, you won't ever be back."
"There's no fun in not taking a risk," Niou tells him. He shifts then, slides a leg between Yukimura's, and presses. "Besides, I am sure something could be arranged for a second shot." He reaches down, between them, to undo Yukimura's pants, but before he can even undo the button, Yukimura grabs his hand, stopping him.
"It might get you on stage once, but it certainly won't get you on stage a second time."
"We aren't going to need a second time." Niou is positive; he knows they are good enough to please the crowds, keep a spot on stage.
"It'll be long-term," Yukimura tells him, and lets go of his hand. "I want a few bands to be playing here as often as possible. You get signed, you still play here."
"Mustn't forget your origins?" Niou asks, quickly undoing Yukimura's pants. When Yukimura says nothing, he glances up and sees something inexplicable in Yukimura's eyes. He slips his hand inside Yukimura's pants, pleased to find nothing beneath, and wraps his hand around Yukimura. It's distraction enough, because the look fades and Yukimura is pushing him back.
Niou's been fucked over many a surface, but never a desk, not one with papers actually still on it. There is a pen digging into the middle of his back, but Niou doesn't care not when his pants are tossed off to the side somewhere and there are slick, experienced fingers pushing into him enough to make him forget everything.
"Exactly so," Yukimura murmurs, lips close to his ear. "Mustn't forget your origins." And then he bites down on Niou's neck and moves his fingers, only to replace them with something else and whatever else he says is lost in the rush of blood from his head.
Even as he is being pounded into the desk by someone who doesn't look at all like he should be able to do such a thing, Niou still has enough presence of mind to focus. At least for a minute, long enough to realize that this means he's got his stage date. It only requires the presence of the rest of his band. He's almost tempted to start thinking of a plan to get them there, but Yukimura stills, and tugs on his hair sharp enough to sting.
"I don't like it when people don't focus on me," Yukimura tells him, a soft whisper in his ear. "It makes me feel like I am not very good." His hand is around Niou's dick, feather-light touches good enough to push him to the edge, restraining him just enough so he doesn't fall. And Niou laughs, arches his back up and pushes down against Yukimura.
He'll think about how to get Atobe to the club later.
-
Yukimura, once they are done, cleans up nicely. His hair falls a little more disorganized, but his shirt is not wrinkled as Niou's is, his pants still have a sharp crease in them. The only way Niou can tell Yukimura's just fucked someone is the glow around the edges, the slightly sated look in his eyes.
"A week from now, Friday, you'll go on at midnight. Busiest night, best time," Yukimura tells him, and pulls him down for a kiss. It's not a soft kiss, sweet and full of promise, but harsh and demanding and full of expectations. Niou nods, when he pulls away, and licks his lips.
"I'll make sure we're here," Niou tells him. He studies Yukimura for a moment, isn't surprised when Yukimura turns his back on him. He's gotten what he wants and that's all that matters. Everything after this will be easy.
Friday night can't come soon enough.
fandom: Prince of Tennis
pairing: Niou/Yukimura
notes: set in purgatory!verse (clubpurgatory). Niou wants to get in. 2525 words.
prompt: 31_days: 25 December 2006. Nice Work if You Can Get It/ And if you can get it, won’t you tell me how
"I heard from an acquaintance that there's this new club," Oshitari begins; it's early, before practice officially begins, but they are all there, waiting. "They're looking for a regular band to start performing."
"Why would we want to perform at a club?" Atobe demands, looking at his watch. "We want a record deal, not things like that."
"It might get us to that point," Niou tells him, only to watch Atobe roll his eyes and pick up his guitar. "And get us some exposure."
"We'll get all the exposure we need when we get signed. Besides, committing ourselves to one place is hardly exposure." Atobe shrugs, picking up his guitar. "We have to practice for now, we'll discuss this later." It's a clear sign that Atobe doesn't want to discuss it.
Niou's lips tighten but he says nothing. Atobe refuses to listen to reason and everyone else seems to go along with him; it's easier. And they are only there to make music.
"Oshitari." Niou corners him after the practice is over. Atobe leaves right away, but the others linger, for a bit. Jirou is asleep on Oshitari's shoulder the moment they stop playing, and it takes a while to rouse him.
"Yes?" Oshitari glances up at him, quirking an eyebrow.
"What is this club you were talking about?"
"You know Atobe won't agree to playing there." Oshitari shifts Jirou from his shoulder and digs through his pocket to fish out a business card. He hold it up, although doesn't let go of it right away.
Niou doesn't tug on the card, doesn't try to pull it away from him, but doesn't let go of the card either. "Who says I'm going to try to get us on stage?" His grin is sharp, wicked. He knows Oshitari can read through him, he's not even trying to hide his true intent, but it doesn't matter. "A new club, looking for bands. Might be an interesting place to visit."
Oshitari studies him for a moment. Jirou opens bleary eyes, realizes he's no longer leaning against Oshitari and promptly rearranges himself so he's resting across his outstretched arm. Oshitari's glasses flash for a second as he looks down at Jirou and lets go of the business card.
-
The club is packed and Niou easily spots a handful of men in suits and ties, looking for all of the world like they just stepped out of a boardroom. It's not hard to guess what they are. And given the industry, Niou is sure there are a half-dozen more mingling in the crowd, looking like the average customer but paying more attention to the band on stage than the girls on the floor.
There's this guy with shockingly pink hair manning the bar. He studies Niou for a second before grinning. "Let me guess, vodka, straight up?"
"Nah," Niou tells him, although the bartender is close; vodka's usually his preference. "Tequila."
"Sure about that?" the guy asks, even as he's setting down a salt shaker, lime wedge, and pouring a healthy shot.
"Normally you'd be right." The shot disappears the moment it's set down on the bar, no chaser, but the salt helps some of the burn, as does the lime. "But I couldn't let you know that right away."
The guy only laughs before moving away to help another customer; Niou doesn't move from his spot though, leaning against the bar to watch the band on stage. They're decent, but not great, not like they deserve to be on the stage. Not in this club, where even Niou can point out the talent scouts and agency reps.
For a brief moment, he thinks about kicking Atobe and demanding the man listen to him, takes a chance on something. But that's not worth thinking about, for the moment. Niou knows he'll figure something out, eventually.
The band finishes and there's a small round of applause, but nothing big, and the curtain drops. There's no encore. Niou doubts they'll be back.
"Want another drink?" the bartender asks and Niou turns his head just a little, looking at him.
"No." The bartender shrugs and moves to walk off and Niou does turn around then, reaching out to grab the bartender by the shirt. "But you can tell me where I can find the owner of this place, a-" he pauses there, to dig out the business card - "Yukimura."
"Why do you wanna talk to Yukimura?" the guy asks. He still looks friendly, easy-going, but there's something different in his eyes. Even though there are at least ten people demanding his attention, he doesn't look away from Niou.
"Someone mentioned he was looking for bands."
"You in a band?" An eyebrow raises, along with a quick glance, and Niou has to smirk at the guy. "You don't look like you're in a band."
"And you don't look like you belong behind a bar, pinkie." Niou lets go of his sleeve. "Tell me where I can find him."
"Hold on," the bartender says, scowling. He glances around, catching someone's eye and waving them over. "Hey, Jackal, this guy wants to see Yukimura."
With that, he is gone, and Niou is left staring at yet another face. He looks nice, friendly, even flashes a grin at Niou. "You want to see the boss?"
"Yeah. I heard he's looking for a band." He's starting to wonder if this guy is actually real - and if he'll get to see him. From the way this Jackal is studying him, it actually surprises him when the guy moves.
"C'mon," he says. "I'll show you to the office."
-
Niou follows Jackal through the club; it's not hard to follow him amongst all of the people, and even the few times that he does get cut off from his guide, Jackal is distinctive enough among the rest of the people that it's only a matter of pushing past the crowd to catch up. The office is on the third floor, and when Niou enters the hall, the noise of the music and the crowd and everything else die away. The hall is almost spooky, but not quite: there's a murmur of voices behind a few of the doors, although nothing loud enough to actually be heard.
"Where is the rest of your band?" Jackal asks, as they walk down the hall. It's quiet enough that a conversation is possible.
"Around." No point in telling anyone that he's actually not there with the rest of his band, that they don't know, and that if he has to actually get them to play at the club, it will require lots of sly talk.
It's obvious, though, and Niou catches the smile Jackal shoots at him, full of pity and something else. "If you can convince them to play here, it's a great place," Jackal tells him. Niou doesn't point out that it's probably a requirement that he has to say such things, considering how he works there.
"Hold on for a second," Jackal tells him and Niou nods, sharp and impatient. Why this guy has such security, or whatever it is he has, is beyond him, but Niou doesn't say anything, only watches as he disappears behind the door.
There is a CD in his pocket, a demo recording done weeks ago, but Niou hopes it'll be enough. If only this Yukimura will give them a chance, he'll get Atobe to the club, on the stage.
It's something, better than what they are doing now.
Jackal steps out a moment later, holding the door open for him, and Niou slips past him. "Thanks, man," he says, and steps into the office.
-
If the club is dark, with only enough light to move about in, then the office is completely opposite: there's enough light in the room to move comfortably, enough to actually work with - and there's a stack of papers on the desk that tells Niou this office isn't simply for ornamentation. It's actually used.
Except there is no one in the chair behind the desk, and Niou's gaze sweeps the room, just as someone does speak.
"Jackal tells me that you're interested in playing for the club." It has to be Yukimura, Niou is sure, because it is his office. And the figure he finally notices, standing in front of the windows that look out into the streets screams that he is in exactly the right place: this Yukimura might be dressed in a suit, with proper tie and coat thrown over the back of his chair, not clothes normally seen in a club, but his presence says he owns it. Controls it.
Suddenly, Niou realizes that it is going to take much more than slipping this man a CD to get his band on stage. But he's afraid of little, and certainly not other people, especially when they smile. Too sweetly, but Niou doesn't care about that.
"Not just me. My band," Niou tells him, and walks further into the office. He drops the CD on the desk and leans against it.
"If your band is interested in playing, then where are they?" Yukimura asks. He turns away from the window, although pauses for a second and reaches behind him, tugs a few strings. The curtains fall shut with hardly a sound, and they are completely alone.
"They don't know I'm here. But they'll agree to it, soon enough."
"I don't like taking uncertain risks." Yukimura walks across the office to the desk, and instead of moving behind it, like any proper businessman, he stands in front of Niou. "I'm Yukimura Seiichi, owner of Purgatory." He extends his hand, pale and delicate.
"Niou Masaharu," Niou tells him, and takes his hand. He's not surprised when Yukimura's grip is surprisingly strong. "And it won't be risky. We're good. You took a risk tonight, having that band earlier play."
Yukimura lets go of his hand, laughing a little. "That was hardly a risk. They did show up. They just happened to not appeal to the audience."
"So if my band was to show up, you'd give us a chance?"
"Hardly." Yukimura steps closer and Niou is trapped between the desk and Yukimura's body. He's not afraid, because Yukimura hardly seems the type to indulge in violence, but he stiffens, a little, and watches the man a little more attentively. There's no telling what he could do. "There are a few ways that people get on Purgatory's stage. None of those ways involve showing up - that just tells me you are serious about commitments - or being good. All being good does is keep you on the stage." Yukimura is smiling, but it's hardly a friendly smile, and between that and how close they are standing, Niou can feel his body start to react.
He was expecting something serious when he arrived; he's expecting something else entirely.
"How do we get on stage?" Niou asks.
"Why are you so curious, if you are not even sure your band will play?"
"I noticed at least six scouts in the audience earlier, and who knows how many more in plain clothes."
"And why wouldn't a music scout stop by a club to enjoy a drink and listen to the new bands, after work?"
"Even if they are here, relaxing after work, they're still music scouts. It's worth taking a chance."
"So you want to play on the stage. You know, if the audience doesn't like your band, you won't ever be back."
"There's no fun in not taking a risk," Niou tells him. He shifts then, slides a leg between Yukimura's, and presses. "Besides, I am sure something could be arranged for a second shot." He reaches down, between them, to undo Yukimura's pants, but before he can even undo the button, Yukimura grabs his hand, stopping him.
"It might get you on stage once, but it certainly won't get you on stage a second time."
"We aren't going to need a second time." Niou is positive; he knows they are good enough to please the crowds, keep a spot on stage.
"It'll be long-term," Yukimura tells him, and lets go of his hand. "I want a few bands to be playing here as often as possible. You get signed, you still play here."
"Mustn't forget your origins?" Niou asks, quickly undoing Yukimura's pants. When Yukimura says nothing, he glances up and sees something inexplicable in Yukimura's eyes. He slips his hand inside Yukimura's pants, pleased to find nothing beneath, and wraps his hand around Yukimura. It's distraction enough, because the look fades and Yukimura is pushing him back.
Niou's been fucked over many a surface, but never a desk, not one with papers actually still on it. There is a pen digging into the middle of his back, but Niou doesn't care not when his pants are tossed off to the side somewhere and there are slick, experienced fingers pushing into him enough to make him forget everything.
"Exactly so," Yukimura murmurs, lips close to his ear. "Mustn't forget your origins." And then he bites down on Niou's neck and moves his fingers, only to replace them with something else and whatever else he says is lost in the rush of blood from his head.
Even as he is being pounded into the desk by someone who doesn't look at all like he should be able to do such a thing, Niou still has enough presence of mind to focus. At least for a minute, long enough to realize that this means he's got his stage date. It only requires the presence of the rest of his band. He's almost tempted to start thinking of a plan to get them there, but Yukimura stills, and tugs on his hair sharp enough to sting.
"I don't like it when people don't focus on me," Yukimura tells him, a soft whisper in his ear. "It makes me feel like I am not very good." His hand is around Niou's dick, feather-light touches good enough to push him to the edge, restraining him just enough so he doesn't fall. And Niou laughs, arches his back up and pushes down against Yukimura.
He'll think about how to get Atobe to the club later.
-
Yukimura, once they are done, cleans up nicely. His hair falls a little more disorganized, but his shirt is not wrinkled as Niou's is, his pants still have a sharp crease in them. The only way Niou can tell Yukimura's just fucked someone is the glow around the edges, the slightly sated look in his eyes.
"A week from now, Friday, you'll go on at midnight. Busiest night, best time," Yukimura tells him, and pulls him down for a kiss. It's not a soft kiss, sweet and full of promise, but harsh and demanding and full of expectations. Niou nods, when he pulls away, and licks his lips.
"I'll make sure we're here," Niou tells him. He studies Yukimura for a moment, isn't surprised when Yukimura turns his back on him. He's gotten what he wants and that's all that matters. Everything after this will be easy.
Friday night can't come soon enough.