fic: Star Crossed Pop Tripe [PG-13]
Title: Star Crossed Pop Tripe
Author: momo (omoshiroina)
Pairing: Joey Fatone/Kame. YES.
Genre: AU, Crack masquerading as semi-angst, Love, REALITY
Summary: Joey Fatone and Kame = OTP. Joey picks Kame up. Elsewhere, Jin is choking on a 5 lb. big Mac.
Notes: SAM. I'm sorry for suddenly ninja-ing into the scene and stealing one of your prompts yet again. I honestly don't like breaking my Justin Timberlake/Kame fantasy, but. I couldn't resist. I stared at your prompt post, lmao-ed for a good 5 minutes and before I knew it I was writing this. Belated Happy Birthday, hun. ♥
In the wake of his thirty-second birthday, Joey Fatone falls in love for the seventh time. He feels an intense love, a tsunami sweeping over brittle sand and tall Japanese palm trees, knocking down everything in it's path, roaring for release. It is right here in a place where he still couldn't believe he was in, this industrial, neon-colored wasteland named Tokyo. The place reminds him of Hollywood sometimes, where the streetlights glitter like moaning, dying stars. Dead Stars.
"Story of my life," he murmurs, fingers flexing, itching for a smoke.
"Say... something?" There is a boy beside him whose lips curl up like a girl's when he struggles to speak to him in his broken English; the 'thing' in his 'something' sounds remarkably like a snake's hiss, 'somesssing'. There is a boy beside him who he thinks would look divine wrapped around his body, buried underneath him, in the deepest contours of his mind, swimming in his veins and living in his arteries.
That would make for a good song, he thinks. But then, Justin only knows about penning margaritas, banging models with a little more ass and revenge on cheating blondes. JC is infinitely worse.
Lance is sensitive. Lance understands more often, but the peroxide blonde hair coupled with the long looks makes him uncomfortable.
"Kawaii - Cute," the boy giggles, voice lilting, and he feels drunk inside.
"I'm cute when I'm thinking?" He presses his index finger hard on the side of his head and makes a soft "bang" noise.
He steals a playful look at the beautiful, girly-lipped boy who he wants to fuck again and again, nodding slowly, happily, like a satisfied child in a candy store. He knows that the tsunami rising up in his chest is real.
"I want to bring you home with me," he says, and brings the boy close to his chest. He supposes he should feel gulity - the boy is only but a little bud of a man. He thinks he probably won't even grow into one. Japan is miraculous like that. "Stay with me forever."
When the boy brings a small, pale hand to brush against his bearded chin, he assumes the answer is yes.
---
Joey sees him that one night after aimlessly walking with the crowds in Shibuya, sitting down on the cold, hard pavement. The sight of his skinny arms almost frighten him, but his face is something else. Something that certainly didn't belong in the streets. Dangerously fragile body structure aside, his face is better than a thousand unintentional peeks under schoolgirl skirts.
He is thankful for the half-eaten sandwich in his hand. "Here," he holds out. The boy's eyes are open, but he is looking far away. He nudges the sandwich against the boy's forehead to gain acknowledgememnt, and he does, after a few tries.
"Nani," he murmurs. It doesn't take long for him to grab the sandwich and start munching on it. He is so starved it hurts to look.
Joey, against all better judgement, sits down beside him, ignoring the chill of wind against his cheek. The boy looks at him strangely, but he isn't afraid. Joey thinks to himself that for once he is glad he is lost in this city - no interruptions, no embarrassment, no compromises for anyone. He takes out a brand new Japanese-English pocket dictionary buried in his rear pocket and opens to letter 'N'.
"Namae?" he asks, and the boy looks stunned.
"Kamenashi Kazuya," he answers after a long moment.
"Joey," he smiles.
"Jo - wii," the boy, Kazuya, enunciates, rolling the foreign name on his tongue. "Jo - wii."
The wrong pronunciation had never sounded so sweet to his ears.
---
His small, rented apartment looks much more like a home after he brings Kazuya into it. There are moments he is sure he would remember forever - like Kazuya singing random Japanese songs mashed together with some oddly phrased English. It takes him forever and a day to figure out that Kazuya is saying "Never forget everything you said to me, never forget everything you've done to me." In reply he would sing random lines from Tearin' Up My Heart, and Kazuya would laugh loudly, reaching up and flicking his nose. Then he'd capture his lips in a kiss, and Kazuya would yelp and do a funny sort of sound that was something between a giggle and a snort. He discovers that it is because of the prickly hairs on his chin. To tease Kazuya he'd sometimes rub his chin on the smooth thighs until he makes him squirm and moan incoherently. "Hayaku, hayaku, onegai," he'd mewl. The way Kazuya tugs at his hair he likes to think he knows what it means even without consulting the dictionary by the bedstand.
---
There is an odd feeling in Joey's chest as he watches TV one day and sees Kazuya's smiling visage, Kazuya's body moving to the beat of a poppy Japanese song. He is with five other boys, none as small as Kazuya. He thinks it's just a dream. Kazuya is just a boy he found on the streets.
He is walking the streets furiously after arguing with a fat saleswoman in a small convenience store over a slight misunderstanding. That is the bad thing about Tokyo again - no compromises. It is then that he catches sight of a poster bearing Kazuya's face and a full body shot. Kazuya is wearing ridiculously expensive-looking tight jeans and a branded shirt. His hair is styled, his lips are full with gloss. On one hand he holds a chocolate bar.
He looks up, and there is a billboard he's never noticed before. Kazuya with those five other boys he saw on TV.
Joey's head spins as he rushes home.
---
He comes back to find Kazuya stuffing what clothes he brought with him into a knapsack. He corners Kazuya, and resists the urge to bite Kazuya's lips when he blinks up at him, confused.
"Who are you?" he demands.
Kazuya's smile is faint. "Kamenashi Kazuya. Idoru."
Kazuya hands him a piece of paper, kisses his cheek and walks away. He doesn't look back to see Joey crumple the paper up, then smoothen it out again. He repeats this for what seems like hours, before he falls asleep on the floor.
---
He returns to Los Angeles without much fanfare to meet with the guys; there is talk of making a new record. Yeah, right.
His manager sits with him in a cafe, sipping his coffee. He hands him a note.
"Here's the translation you requested," his manager rolls his eyes dryly. "You better be thankful I have a cousin obsessed with Pokemon enough to learn Japanese."
He nods in thanks, and opens the folded paper.
Jowii, I'm sorry for not being able to tell you sooner, but the night you found me in the streets I ran away from home. I was on a short hiatus with my group and I had just come home, only to find my parents not exactly getting along. I guess I wasn't thinking when I ran away with a only a few change of clothes and no money, but you found me. And for that, I'm forever grateful. Thank you for taking care of me. I'll remember you always.
There is a bitter taste in his mouth that won't go away; unground coffee beans must have gotten stuck in his teeth. Or maybe it is just Kazuya.
---
Joey goes to sleep in his lush LA apartment in his lush LA bed and dreams of a day when he sweeps Kazuya off his feet and carries him bridal style over his shoulder. He would carry him all the way to a Las Vegas church, where they exchange rings and Kazuya would say "I do" in cutely accented English. Behind them, Britney Spears tells them to hurry it up; she and her white trash boyfriend are next. There is no choir, but there are those five boys on the stands, feathers and dead animals adorning their tuxedos, clapping their hands and singing It's tearin' up my heart when I'm with you, but when we are apart I feel it, too again and again and again.
fin
Notes: Sam, don't hate me. *whimpers*
Author: momo (omoshiroina)
Pairing: Joey Fatone/Kame. YES.
Genre: AU, Crack masquerading as semi-angst, Love, REALITY
Summary: Joey Fatone and Kame = OTP. Joey picks Kame up. Elsewhere, Jin is choking on a 5 lb. big Mac.
Notes: SAM. I'm sorry for suddenly ninja-ing into the scene and stealing one of your prompts yet again. I honestly don't like breaking my Justin Timberlake/Kame fantasy, but. I couldn't resist. I stared at your prompt post, lmao-ed for a good 5 minutes and before I knew it I was writing this. Belated Happy Birthday, hun. ♥
In the wake of his thirty-second birthday, Joey Fatone falls in love for the seventh time. He feels an intense love, a tsunami sweeping over brittle sand and tall Japanese palm trees, knocking down everything in it's path, roaring for release. It is right here in a place where he still couldn't believe he was in, this industrial, neon-colored wasteland named Tokyo. The place reminds him of Hollywood sometimes, where the streetlights glitter like moaning, dying stars. Dead Stars.
"Story of my life," he murmurs, fingers flexing, itching for a smoke.
"Say... something?" There is a boy beside him whose lips curl up like a girl's when he struggles to speak to him in his broken English; the 'thing' in his 'something' sounds remarkably like a snake's hiss, 'somesssing'. There is a boy beside him who he thinks would look divine wrapped around his body, buried underneath him, in the deepest contours of his mind, swimming in his veins and living in his arteries.
That would make for a good song, he thinks. But then, Justin only knows about penning margaritas, banging models with a little more ass and revenge on cheating blondes. JC is infinitely worse.
Lance is sensitive. Lance understands more often, but the peroxide blonde hair coupled with the long looks makes him uncomfortable.
"Kawaii - Cute," the boy giggles, voice lilting, and he feels drunk inside.
"I'm cute when I'm thinking?" He presses his index finger hard on the side of his head and makes a soft "bang" noise.
He steals a playful look at the beautiful, girly-lipped boy who he wants to fuck again and again, nodding slowly, happily, like a satisfied child in a candy store. He knows that the tsunami rising up in his chest is real.
"I want to bring you home with me," he says, and brings the boy close to his chest. He supposes he should feel gulity - the boy is only but a little bud of a man. He thinks he probably won't even grow into one. Japan is miraculous like that. "Stay with me forever."
When the boy brings a small, pale hand to brush against his bearded chin, he assumes the answer is yes.
---
Joey sees him that one night after aimlessly walking with the crowds in Shibuya, sitting down on the cold, hard pavement. The sight of his skinny arms almost frighten him, but his face is something else. Something that certainly didn't belong in the streets. Dangerously fragile body structure aside, his face is better than a thousand unintentional peeks under schoolgirl skirts.
He is thankful for the half-eaten sandwich in his hand. "Here," he holds out. The boy's eyes are open, but he is looking far away. He nudges the sandwich against the boy's forehead to gain acknowledgememnt, and he does, after a few tries.
"Nani," he murmurs. It doesn't take long for him to grab the sandwich and start munching on it. He is so starved it hurts to look.
Joey, against all better judgement, sits down beside him, ignoring the chill of wind against his cheek. The boy looks at him strangely, but he isn't afraid. Joey thinks to himself that for once he is glad he is lost in this city - no interruptions, no embarrassment, no compromises for anyone. He takes out a brand new Japanese-English pocket dictionary buried in his rear pocket and opens to letter 'N'.
"Namae?" he asks, and the boy looks stunned.
"Kamenashi Kazuya," he answers after a long moment.
"Joey," he smiles.
"Jo - wii," the boy, Kazuya, enunciates, rolling the foreign name on his tongue. "Jo - wii."
The wrong pronunciation had never sounded so sweet to his ears.
---
His small, rented apartment looks much more like a home after he brings Kazuya into it. There are moments he is sure he would remember forever - like Kazuya singing random Japanese songs mashed together with some oddly phrased English. It takes him forever and a day to figure out that Kazuya is saying "Never forget everything you said to me, never forget everything you've done to me." In reply he would sing random lines from Tearin' Up My Heart, and Kazuya would laugh loudly, reaching up and flicking his nose. Then he'd capture his lips in a kiss, and Kazuya would yelp and do a funny sort of sound that was something between a giggle and a snort. He discovers that it is because of the prickly hairs on his chin. To tease Kazuya he'd sometimes rub his chin on the smooth thighs until he makes him squirm and moan incoherently. "Hayaku, hayaku, onegai," he'd mewl. The way Kazuya tugs at his hair he likes to think he knows what it means even without consulting the dictionary by the bedstand.
---
There is an odd feeling in Joey's chest as he watches TV one day and sees Kazuya's smiling visage, Kazuya's body moving to the beat of a poppy Japanese song. He is with five other boys, none as small as Kazuya. He thinks it's just a dream. Kazuya is just a boy he found on the streets.
He is walking the streets furiously after arguing with a fat saleswoman in a small convenience store over a slight misunderstanding. That is the bad thing about Tokyo again - no compromises. It is then that he catches sight of a poster bearing Kazuya's face and a full body shot. Kazuya is wearing ridiculously expensive-looking tight jeans and a branded shirt. His hair is styled, his lips are full with gloss. On one hand he holds a chocolate bar.
He looks up, and there is a billboard he's never noticed before. Kazuya with those five other boys he saw on TV.
Joey's head spins as he rushes home.
---
He comes back to find Kazuya stuffing what clothes he brought with him into a knapsack. He corners Kazuya, and resists the urge to bite Kazuya's lips when he blinks up at him, confused.
"Who are you?" he demands.
Kazuya's smile is faint. "Kamenashi Kazuya. Idoru."
Kazuya hands him a piece of paper, kisses his cheek and walks away. He doesn't look back to see Joey crumple the paper up, then smoothen it out again. He repeats this for what seems like hours, before he falls asleep on the floor.
---
He returns to Los Angeles without much fanfare to meet with the guys; there is talk of making a new record. Yeah, right.
His manager sits with him in a cafe, sipping his coffee. He hands him a note.
"Here's the translation you requested," his manager rolls his eyes dryly. "You better be thankful I have a cousin obsessed with Pokemon enough to learn Japanese."
He nods in thanks, and opens the folded paper.
Jowii, I'm sorry for not being able to tell you sooner, but the night you found me in the streets I ran away from home. I was on a short hiatus with my group and I had just come home, only to find my parents not exactly getting along. I guess I wasn't thinking when I ran away with a only a few change of clothes and no money, but you found me. And for that, I'm forever grateful. Thank you for taking care of me. I'll remember you always.
There is a bitter taste in his mouth that won't go away; unground coffee beans must have gotten stuck in his teeth. Or maybe it is just Kazuya.
---
Joey goes to sleep in his lush LA apartment in his lush LA bed and dreams of a day when he sweeps Kazuya off his feet and carries him bridal style over his shoulder. He would carry him all the way to a Las Vegas church, where they exchange rings and Kazuya would say "I do" in cutely accented English. Behind them, Britney Spears tells them to hurry it up; she and her white trash boyfriend are next. There is no choir, but there are those five boys on the stands, feathers and dead animals adorning their tuxedos, clapping their hands and singing It's tearin' up my heart when I'm with you, but when we are apart I feel it, too again and again and again.
fin
Notes: Sam, don't hate me. *whimpers*