JE/V6- "Being the Leader Means Protecting Your Groupmates’ Chastity"
Title: Being the Leader Means Protecting Your Groupmates’ Chastity
Universe: JE/V6
Theme/Topic: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: V6 (lightly SakamotoxNagano)
Warnings/Spoilers: Crack, ooc, a whole lot of not making any sense.
Word Count: 1,860
Summary: Nagano’s love of food takes him many places. Where he could get touched by many hands.
Dedication: I don’t know, who reads V6 fic? Um, tinyangl, I think?
A/N: Quick and dirty fic that was way better in my head. SIGH. Anyway, the idea came from watching the Vibes concert MCs and hearing the members tell Nagano to please be less easy to perv on. So of course I could not help myself. These are the results.
Disclaimer: No harm is meant by this!
Distribution: Just lemme know.
“Nagano,” Sakamoto hisses urgently under his breath, as he stops just outside the establishment’s doors on instinct, his feet suddenly refusing to move forward anymore despite already having spent the last few hours mentally gearing up for this. Nagano, much less distressed about the whole turn of events than he ought to be, absently continues past the older idol without pausing. Sakamoto flails. “Oi, Nagano!”
Nagano blinks, and is holding the door to the restaurant open for Sakamoto. “What? Are you coming?”
Sakamoto turns a little red and waves his groupmate back over, towards the safety of the sidewalk. “Just come here for a second, will you?!”
Nagano quirks an eyebrow. “Why are you whispering?”
“Just do it!” Sakamoto insists.
Nagano studies him for a moment, before mentally shrugging and padding back towards the older man. “What?”
“This place,” Sakamoto begins, looking around in a highly suspicious manner while clearly trying not to draw the attention of any of the passersby on the street, “now that we’re here and you can see the sign… do you know exactly what kind of place this is?”
Nagano nods. “My gourmet magazine says it has the best karaage in the city,” he says, and misses the point (and the giant window sign that has two men hugging around a hamburger) entirely.
Sakamoto stares.
Nagano gives him a slightly impatient look. “Are you coming? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know. I’m perfectly okay with eating alone.”
A very emphatic "Sweet!" is what Sakamoto wants to respond with when he hears that, but when Nagano had said he’d wanted to come here earlier in the week the members had all responded by deciding to draw straws to see who would have to go with him. Sakamoto-unsurprisingly-was the one to lose.
“Eh, it’s a date, a date!” Ken had crowed in amusement, after everyone had looked at the results of the lots in their hands.
Inohara had burst out laughing and agreed. “Just like a real couple, right?”
“A real couple, a real couple!” Ken and Morita echoed.
Sakamoto had buried his head in his hands.
From there, Okada, slightly more serious (or just a better actor than the others), had very calmly put an encouraging hand on Sakamoto’s shoulder. “Leader,” he’d said, voice deep, eyes intense, “Leader you definitely have to protect Nagano-kun’s chastity. Since Nagano-kun will be too distracted by the food to notice if someone is touching him inappropriately.”
Sakamoto thinks he would have bought Okada’s serious act a little more if the brat hadn’t been laughing with his eyes as he said that last part.
But as it is, a loss is a loss, and so Sakamoto is here right now, on the street, looking up at the sign to a shop he definitely does not want to go into right now.
Eventually, he sighs and follows Nagano inside anyway.
Because today the two of them are having dinner together at the gay bar.
~~~~~
Nagano, Sakamoto decides in a purely academic way, is a good looking guy. He’s fresh-faced and cute looking despite his age; he smiles, is friendly, patient, and has that whole dancer’s body thing going on for him. He has nice hair and he always thinks the best of people even when they don’t deserve it (like Inohara).
On top of all that, when Nagano is concentrating on something, he gets really into it, which also means that it is really easy for people to just slip in and take advantage of that kind and unassuming nature of his.
Those are all the reasons why, Sakamoto realizes, again purely academically, Nagano gets his ass grabbed by fans during concerts or felt up on trains or pinched in clubs.
He’s an open, good looking guy with a nice body who gets so immersed in what he’s doing (usually eating) that he doesn’t notice when people are trying to eye-fuck him or bad-touch him.
As such, a person like Nagano, Sakamoto decides, should never go to eat at a gay bar.
Especially one like this.
“How’s the sauce?” a waiter (waitress?) with a blonde wig and a leather corset asks as he (she?) passes by their booth, reaching out to trail a long-nailed finger along the curve of Nagano’s shoulder as the oblivious idol munches peacefully on his first round of lemon-flavored fried chicken.
“Great,” Nagano responds with twinkling eyes, and doesn’t notice the lingering finger that is currently stroking his collarbone in lieu of the delightful flavors of the pesto-mayo dip in conjunction with the crispy lemon-infused batter currently making sweet harmony on his tongue.
Sakamoto, however, notices. And when it goes on for a little bit too long (and subsequently makes him feel like vomiting in his mouth a little), he clears his throat. Decisively.
The waiter (waitress?) eyes him when he does and laughs. Obligingly withdraws. “Your partner seems tense,” he (she) tells Nagano instead, while Nagano moves on to the spicy version of the chicken with the soy-lemon dipping sauce.
“I AM NOT HIS PARTNER!” Sakamoto shouts.
The waiter-slash-waitress tsks at Sakamoto. “Careful, honey,” he-she warns, “The boys hear you talking like that, they won’t waste any time snatching a cute thing like him right up out of your hands.”
Sakamoto flails. “NOT PARTNERS!” he reiterates, firmly.
Nagano in the meantime, is unfazed by any of this. “Don’t worry about him,” he tells the waiter-slash-waitress, “He just wasn’t as excited as I was about coming out tonight.” Then he absently takes a basket of fries and pushes them towards Sakamoto, as if that will make things magically all better. “Try dipping them in the white sauce,” he suggests with a smile. “It’s really good.”
“Delicious,” the waiter-slash-waitress agrees from beside Nagano, and does something obscene with his-her tongue at the older idol.
Sakamoto chokes on his own spit.
His-her work thus done, the waiter-slash-waitress gives a deep throated laugh before going off to take care of some of the other tables, while Nagano just gives Sakamoto a strange look while he coughs, before pushing a glass of water over towards him as well.
“Thanks,” Sakamoto says lamely as he takes a sip, and proceeds to stare down at the basket of fries so that he doesn’t have to look at the two leather daddies currently grinding on each other behind Nagano’s shoulder, over by the dancing area.
He hopes that this will all be over soon. Soon.
~~~~~
In reality, Sakamoto’s soon ends up being very far away, because about an hour into the meal later, Nagano’s bottomless-pit stomach decides that it also wants to try the deep fried squid balls, the grilled fish sausage, and the spicy, salty beefcake (haha) before it is done for the night.
“We might as well give everything a shot while we’re here, right?” Nagano tells Sakamoto pragmatically, and looks so obliviously happy as he does that all Sakamoto can do is smile wearily in response and nod, still staring at the basket of congealing fries because now the leather daddies have been joined on the dance floor by a pair of fresh-faced college-student type guys who also happen to be wearing women’s t-shirts and hentai-anime-girl style short shorts.
And so they end up staying for much longer than Sakamoto ever could have wanted, through the course of which most of his worst fears are also realized, as Nagano first gets asked to dance, then gets asked if he wants to go to the bathroom together (oh god), and finally, gets slipped two pieces of paper, the intent of which he (thankfully) interprets completely wrong by simply signing his autograph to both pieces before handing them back to their owners without reading the numbers written on them at all.
Sakamoto may or may not get touched a few times through the course of the meal as well (particularly when he’d had to go to the bathroom), and fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, is self-aware enough to know the exact intentions behind each of the actions as they are put upon his unwilling and deeply violated person.
As such, by the time Nagano picks up the menu for the third time exactly an hour and forty-five minutes into this nightmare, Sakamoto decides that he has had enough.
It has been a very long night, with some very heart-stopping experiences, and if he doesn’t do something soon, he suspects that the transvestite waiter-slash-waitress is going to follow through on that comment he-she had made when he-she had brought them their beefcake earlier. Sakamoto doesn’t remember the exact words, but he thinks that it had been something about wanting to wrap up all around the both of them and show them the flavors of love. Nagano’s food-obsessed brain had somehow interpreted that as, “Please try the whole menu!” while Sakamoto had interpreted it slightly less-innocuously as, “I want to put my beep in your beep and beep with you all beep beep beep.”
Sakamoto thinks this is one of those rare and strange occasions where he is the one who is right and Nagano is the one who wrong; clearly that is a warning sign from God to hurry up and do something drastic, before the two of them actually do get beeped all beep beep beep.
So, as Nagano picks up the menu again, intent on trying out at least six of the seven premium dessert parfaits he sees on it, Sakamoto, in an act of desperation, finally speaks up.
“Nagano,” he says suddenly, and gently pushes the menu down on the table between them, so he can properly look into the eyes of the person that he’s known longer than some of their backdancers have been alive, “what I am about to do is completely in the interest of self-preservation. So please don’t get mad.”
Nagano blinks. “Okay…”
From there Sakamoto smiles-in a pained, horrible way-and slides across the booth until he and Nagano are sitting next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.
And then he wraps his arm around Nagano. Tightly.
Takes a deep breath.
“PLEASE STOP TOUCHING US OR LOOKING AT US OR THINKING ABOUT US THAT WAY BECAUSE I AM ON A SPECIAL DATE WITH MY PARTNER RIGHT NOW, OKAY? RESPECT OUR LOVE! AND STUFF!” he announces loudly at the top of his lungs, to all of the amused-looking inhabitants of this deeply terrifying establishment who are currently dancing, drinking, and/or thinking about perving on either he and Nagano in the background.
Silence.
Then, Nagano laughs a little and adjusts himself under Sakamoto’s arm so that it's more comfortable. “Leader,” he starts after a beat, absently picking up the dessert menu again, “if you’re officially taking me out on a date now, does this mean you’re offering to pay too?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before he moves to order one of each of the seven premium dessert parfaits after all.
~~~~~
Sometime later, when Sakamoto is handing over his credit card to the waiter-slash-waitress to pay for Nagano’s obscene dinner tab, he wonders how-despite all his best efforts- he still ended up getting beeped today anyway.
END
Universe: JE/V6
Theme/Topic: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: V6 (lightly SakamotoxNagano)
Warnings/Spoilers: Crack, ooc, a whole lot of not making any sense.
Word Count: 1,860
Summary: Nagano’s love of food takes him many places. Where he could get touched by many hands.
Dedication: I don’t know, who reads V6 fic? Um, tinyangl, I think?
A/N: Quick and dirty fic that was way better in my head. SIGH. Anyway, the idea came from watching the Vibes concert MCs and hearing the members tell Nagano to please be less easy to perv on. So of course I could not help myself. These are the results.
Disclaimer: No harm is meant by this!
Distribution: Just lemme know.
“Nagano,” Sakamoto hisses urgently under his breath, as he stops just outside the establishment’s doors on instinct, his feet suddenly refusing to move forward anymore despite already having spent the last few hours mentally gearing up for this. Nagano, much less distressed about the whole turn of events than he ought to be, absently continues past the older idol without pausing. Sakamoto flails. “Oi, Nagano!”
Nagano blinks, and is holding the door to the restaurant open for Sakamoto. “What? Are you coming?”
Sakamoto turns a little red and waves his groupmate back over, towards the safety of the sidewalk. “Just come here for a second, will you?!”
Nagano quirks an eyebrow. “Why are you whispering?”
“Just do it!” Sakamoto insists.
Nagano studies him for a moment, before mentally shrugging and padding back towards the older man. “What?”
“This place,” Sakamoto begins, looking around in a highly suspicious manner while clearly trying not to draw the attention of any of the passersby on the street, “now that we’re here and you can see the sign… do you know exactly what kind of place this is?”
Nagano nods. “My gourmet magazine says it has the best karaage in the city,” he says, and misses the point (and the giant window sign that has two men hugging around a hamburger) entirely.
Sakamoto stares.
Nagano gives him a slightly impatient look. “Are you coming? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know. I’m perfectly okay with eating alone.”
A very emphatic "Sweet!" is what Sakamoto wants to respond with when he hears that, but when Nagano had said he’d wanted to come here earlier in the week the members had all responded by deciding to draw straws to see who would have to go with him. Sakamoto-unsurprisingly-was the one to lose.
“Eh, it’s a date, a date!” Ken had crowed in amusement, after everyone had looked at the results of the lots in their hands.
Inohara had burst out laughing and agreed. “Just like a real couple, right?”
“A real couple, a real couple!” Ken and Morita echoed.
Sakamoto had buried his head in his hands.
From there, Okada, slightly more serious (or just a better actor than the others), had very calmly put an encouraging hand on Sakamoto’s shoulder. “Leader,” he’d said, voice deep, eyes intense, “Leader you definitely have to protect Nagano-kun’s chastity. Since Nagano-kun will be too distracted by the food to notice if someone is touching him inappropriately.”
Sakamoto thinks he would have bought Okada’s serious act a little more if the brat hadn’t been laughing with his eyes as he said that last part.
But as it is, a loss is a loss, and so Sakamoto is here right now, on the street, looking up at the sign to a shop he definitely does not want to go into right now.
Eventually, he sighs and follows Nagano inside anyway.
Because today the two of them are having dinner together at the gay bar.
~~~~~
Nagano, Sakamoto decides in a purely academic way, is a good looking guy. He’s fresh-faced and cute looking despite his age; he smiles, is friendly, patient, and has that whole dancer’s body thing going on for him. He has nice hair and he always thinks the best of people even when they don’t deserve it (like Inohara).
On top of all that, when Nagano is concentrating on something, he gets really into it, which also means that it is really easy for people to just slip in and take advantage of that kind and unassuming nature of his.
Those are all the reasons why, Sakamoto realizes, again purely academically, Nagano gets his ass grabbed by fans during concerts or felt up on trains or pinched in clubs.
He’s an open, good looking guy with a nice body who gets so immersed in what he’s doing (usually eating) that he doesn’t notice when people are trying to eye-fuck him or bad-touch him.
As such, a person like Nagano, Sakamoto decides, should never go to eat at a gay bar.
Especially one like this.
“How’s the sauce?” a waiter (waitress?) with a blonde wig and a leather corset asks as he (she?) passes by their booth, reaching out to trail a long-nailed finger along the curve of Nagano’s shoulder as the oblivious idol munches peacefully on his first round of lemon-flavored fried chicken.
“Great,” Nagano responds with twinkling eyes, and doesn’t notice the lingering finger that is currently stroking his collarbone in lieu of the delightful flavors of the pesto-mayo dip in conjunction with the crispy lemon-infused batter currently making sweet harmony on his tongue.
Sakamoto, however, notices. And when it goes on for a little bit too long (and subsequently makes him feel like vomiting in his mouth a little), he clears his throat. Decisively.
The waiter (waitress?) eyes him when he does and laughs. Obligingly withdraws. “Your partner seems tense,” he (she) tells Nagano instead, while Nagano moves on to the spicy version of the chicken with the soy-lemon dipping sauce.
“I AM NOT HIS PARTNER!” Sakamoto shouts.
The waiter-slash-waitress tsks at Sakamoto. “Careful, honey,” he-she warns, “The boys hear you talking like that, they won’t waste any time snatching a cute thing like him right up out of your hands.”
Sakamoto flails. “NOT PARTNERS!” he reiterates, firmly.
Nagano in the meantime, is unfazed by any of this. “Don’t worry about him,” he tells the waiter-slash-waitress, “He just wasn’t as excited as I was about coming out tonight.” Then he absently takes a basket of fries and pushes them towards Sakamoto, as if that will make things magically all better. “Try dipping them in the white sauce,” he suggests with a smile. “It’s really good.”
“Delicious,” the waiter-slash-waitress agrees from beside Nagano, and does something obscene with his-her tongue at the older idol.
Sakamoto chokes on his own spit.
His-her work thus done, the waiter-slash-waitress gives a deep throated laugh before going off to take care of some of the other tables, while Nagano just gives Sakamoto a strange look while he coughs, before pushing a glass of water over towards him as well.
“Thanks,” Sakamoto says lamely as he takes a sip, and proceeds to stare down at the basket of fries so that he doesn’t have to look at the two leather daddies currently grinding on each other behind Nagano’s shoulder, over by the dancing area.
He hopes that this will all be over soon. Soon.
~~~~~
In reality, Sakamoto’s soon ends up being very far away, because about an hour into the meal later, Nagano’s bottomless-pit stomach decides that it also wants to try the deep fried squid balls, the grilled fish sausage, and the spicy, salty beefcake (haha) before it is done for the night.
“We might as well give everything a shot while we’re here, right?” Nagano tells Sakamoto pragmatically, and looks so obliviously happy as he does that all Sakamoto can do is smile wearily in response and nod, still staring at the basket of congealing fries because now the leather daddies have been joined on the dance floor by a pair of fresh-faced college-student type guys who also happen to be wearing women’s t-shirts and hentai-anime-girl style short shorts.
And so they end up staying for much longer than Sakamoto ever could have wanted, through the course of which most of his worst fears are also realized, as Nagano first gets asked to dance, then gets asked if he wants to go to the bathroom together (oh god), and finally, gets slipped two pieces of paper, the intent of which he (thankfully) interprets completely wrong by simply signing his autograph to both pieces before handing them back to their owners without reading the numbers written on them at all.
Sakamoto may or may not get touched a few times through the course of the meal as well (particularly when he’d had to go to the bathroom), and fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, is self-aware enough to know the exact intentions behind each of the actions as they are put upon his unwilling and deeply violated person.
As such, by the time Nagano picks up the menu for the third time exactly an hour and forty-five minutes into this nightmare, Sakamoto decides that he has had enough.
It has been a very long night, with some very heart-stopping experiences, and if he doesn’t do something soon, he suspects that the transvestite waiter-slash-waitress is going to follow through on that comment he-she had made when he-she had brought them their beefcake earlier. Sakamoto doesn’t remember the exact words, but he thinks that it had been something about wanting to wrap up all around the both of them and show them the flavors of love. Nagano’s food-obsessed brain had somehow interpreted that as, “Please try the whole menu!” while Sakamoto had interpreted it slightly less-innocuously as, “I want to put my beep in your beep and beep with you all beep beep beep.”
Sakamoto thinks this is one of those rare and strange occasions where he is the one who is right and Nagano is the one who wrong; clearly that is a warning sign from God to hurry up and do something drastic, before the two of them actually do get beeped all beep beep beep.
So, as Nagano picks up the menu again, intent on trying out at least six of the seven premium dessert parfaits he sees on it, Sakamoto, in an act of desperation, finally speaks up.
“Nagano,” he says suddenly, and gently pushes the menu down on the table between them, so he can properly look into the eyes of the person that he’s known longer than some of their backdancers have been alive, “what I am about to do is completely in the interest of self-preservation. So please don’t get mad.”
Nagano blinks. “Okay…”
From there Sakamoto smiles-in a pained, horrible way-and slides across the booth until he and Nagano are sitting next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.
And then he wraps his arm around Nagano. Tightly.
Takes a deep breath.
“PLEASE STOP TOUCHING US OR LOOKING AT US OR THINKING ABOUT US THAT WAY BECAUSE I AM ON A SPECIAL DATE WITH MY PARTNER RIGHT NOW, OKAY? RESPECT OUR LOVE! AND STUFF!” he announces loudly at the top of his lungs, to all of the amused-looking inhabitants of this deeply terrifying establishment who are currently dancing, drinking, and/or thinking about perving on either he and Nagano in the background.
Silence.
Then, Nagano laughs a little and adjusts himself under Sakamoto’s arm so that it's more comfortable. “Leader,” he starts after a beat, absently picking up the dessert menu again, “if you’re officially taking me out on a date now, does this mean you’re offering to pay too?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before he moves to order one of each of the seven premium dessert parfaits after all.
~~~~~
Sometime later, when Sakamoto is handing over his credit card to the waiter-slash-waitress to pay for Nagano’s obscene dinner tab, he wonders how-despite all his best efforts- he still ended up getting beeped today anyway.
END