RP FanFic: The Rival
Title: The Rival
Rating: G
Warning: Slight swearing. Spoilers for the mini-drama "The Buddy". Also, the characters here are based on their personalities and character settings in the AU universe this story is set in.
Status: Complete
Characters: Nakai Masahiro, Kimura Takuya, Mukai Osamu
Guest Appearances: Inagaki Goro, Kusanagi Tsuyoshi, Katori Shingo
Pairings/Friendship: implied Nakai Masahiro x Kimura Takuya, Mukai Osamu + Kimura Takuya Friendship, Mukai Osamu + Nakai Masahiro Friendship
Universe: [AU] The Buddy (SMAPxSMAP)
Timeline: The aftermath of the mini-drama.
Summary: His head hurt. Why had Nakai Masahiro gone after them?
A/N: None of the characters/actors belong to me. This work is purely fiction and does not reflect the real opinions/lifestyles of the person(s) involved. Comments and criticisms are welcomed. ENJOY! XD
THE RIVAL
His head hurt.
A near silent hiss escaped Nakai Masahiro as he gingerly massaged his head. It wasn’t bleeding, but it hurt like hell; he was annoyed and exhausted, his entire body aching, and he just wanted to go home and get some shut eye.
‘Damn paperwork.’
It didn’t help that the paperwork he had to fill in seemed endless; a routine cycle of name, position, signature, rinse and repeat. He had read the first few documents, but after the millionth time of seeing the words “arrest”, “corruption” and “Inagaki Goro”, he had just allowed everything to flow over him.
‘Damn bastard.’
Even handcuffed and locked behind bars, Inagaki still managed to cause him such trouble. The throbbing of his head spiked; a reminder. But, a smug smirk stole its way on to Masahiro’s face when he recalled how he quite literally kicked the arrogant jerk in the arse. Several times.
Serves him right for hitting me.
‘Nakai-san.’
Masahiro was jerked from his delightful thoughts when a shadow loomed over the paper he was about to put his signature on. Blinking, he looked up into the very serious eyes of one Mukai Osamu.
‘Thank you for coming after us.’
A strange prickling crawled over the back of Masahiro’s neck and he looked away, unable to stop the hotness he could feel taking over his fair skin, more than a little uncomfortable by the intense earnestness and utter gratefulness that adorned every line on the junior police officer’s face.
‘Well, someone had to clean up the mess you’re bound to make when you go out with him,’ he shrugged, feigning casualness. He resisted the urge to flick his eyes across the room, looking for escape routes, feeling more and more like a dear in caught in headlights as Mukai opened his mouth to say something that Masahiro knew was going to be even more embarrassingly touching and honest.
It wouldn’t be Mukai Osamu if he didn’t.
‘Oi, Mukai!’
Whatever Mukai wanted to say never left his lips as the police officer was distracted, his entire body spinning in the direction of the call, seemingly forgetting Masahiro’s presence.
‘Senpai [1], you’re back!’
And, the younger man was off, nearly tripping over his own two feet in his haste of getting to his partner’s side. Masahiro watched as the anxious concern and restless hovering was batted aside by calm, casual reassurances. Part of Masahiro felt insulted that he could so easily be forgotten, especially since it was him that Masahiro was being compared to. Mostly however, he just felt relief swamp him. Dealing with Mukai’s straight-forward sincerity was not Nakai’s forte; the younger man was like an arrow that shot straight into the heart.
Admit it, you’re just relief that he’s back from his checkup and he’s fine.
Masahiro scoffed.
Why in the world would I be worried about that idiot? Him and his reckless streak of justice; it would’ve better if he had been shot or something. At least, that would teach him a lesson about running off on his own.
Aw… Is someone jealous that he took little Mukai-kun with him and not you?
Shut up!
Masahiro shook his head violently, but clearly, his mind had a will of its own.
Come on, you’re an intelligent man, Masahiro. If you weren’t worried, why did you go after them in the first place?
I was worried…about Mukai.
Yet, when you knew that Mukai was going to be all right, you still staked your life on the line.
I didn’t know that Mukai was going to be fine.
Liar. You knew that Mukai wasn’t going to be harmed, not physically at least. He’s young, eager, willing, easy… No, Inagaki would’ve spared Mukai. After all, he likes to keep things clean and simple, no fuss, no mess, and he was there for only one reason.
No matter how much Masahiro denied it, he knew it was true. Everything in his calculations told him that Inagaki would’ve spared Mukai’s life. There were other more convenient ways to shut him up; ways that could be used to avoid the additional kinks that came with his death.
No, only one person had been at the risk of dying that night.
Unconsciously, Masahiro’s gaze had drifted across the room, his eyes trailing over bright brown eyes, a strong jaw, a lean body, sleek muscles rippling under a T-shirt, mentally checking, cataloguing. He was unscathed, unharmed, which was close to a miracle considering the situation that they had been in.
The older police officer could still remember, the way his heart had stopped when Kimura Takuya had looked Mukai in the eye and commanded his partner to shoot him. Masahiro had wanted to yell at the infuriating man, had wanted to throttle him for teasing them all and making light of such a deadly situation.
It was his life he was talking about!
But, when not a hint, not a trace, of his usual annoyingly mischievous smirk was anywhere to be seen, Masahiro knew that he had been serious, deadly serious.
Of course, it wouldn’t be Kimura if he didn’t quip about how Mukai was going to miss anyway, so the younger officer shouldn’t be worried about hitting him. It would’ve been reassuring, funny even, if it hadn’t been for one thing: the note of acceptance that Masahiro could detect under the flippant jibe.
Kimura had been prepared. He had not given up; no, Masahiro knew that the stubborn police officer would’ve killed himself first before giving up. But, if push came to the shove, if Mukai had indeed shot him, he would’ve been prepared to forgive Mukai; it wasn’t his partner’s fault no matter how much Mukai blamed himself, he would’ve been prepared for the pain, the agony, the darkness; because he must’ve known, just as Masahiro did, that Inagaki had been after nobody but him and him alone. He would’ve been prepared.
Kimura would’ve been prepared to die.
And, Masahiro had turned away; unable to look.
Not when the man he used to loathe, not when the man he no longer hated, was going to die before his eyes, die at the hands of someone he called friend, partner.
Truly, it had been a miracle that the hired killer, Kusanagi, had somehow made a mistake. The security guard, the one who had been knocked unconscious, had woken up at a crucial moment, and his presence had broken the web that Inagaki had weaved around them, trapping them, entangling them. All it took was a fraction of a second, a single moment of hasty carelessness, and Kimura had moved, his lightning quick reflexes, sharpened by adrenaline, turning the tables in a blink of an eye.
‘Oi, Nakai!’
A sharp twack hit the side of his head, bringing his attention back in full-force to his hammering headache. This time, Masahiro couldn’t stop himself from taking a small step back as his thoughts were unceremoniously disrupted by two very intense, very brilliant, curious and questioning brown eyes very close to his face.
‘Are you sleeping with your eyes open? We’ve been trying to get your attention for ages. Mukai and I are planning to go out for a celebratory dinner; you want to join us? My treat.’
Growling irritably under his breath, Masahiro was about to brush off the offer with a snarky retort when Kimura’s last words filtered through his mind.
My treat.
‘He’s thanking me,’ the older officer belatedly realized, a familiar prickling crawling over his skin again. He didn’t even question how he could’ve jumped to that particular conclusion.
It was a feeling that just came from the implicit shared understanding between them.
Something in Masahiro’s expression must’ve tipped Kimura off to his answer because the other police officer wordlessly turned on his heels, making his way to the door, his partner by his side, before tilting his head towards the still frozen Masahiro in an unvoiced question. Coming?
Shoving down the welling of emotions he would rather not deal with, Masahiro merely grumbled. ‘I should throw you behind bars with that bastard. You knew he hit me on the head!’
You just want him in handcuffs so that you can have your wicked way with him. Police officer and prisoner, eh? I never knew you could be so kinky.
Masahiro groaned under his breath, wondering if he still had the chance to pull out of dinner.
This was going to be a long night.
And, his head still hurt.
~OWARI~
[1] "Senpai." A title that a junior uses to call a senior.
Rating: G
Warning: Slight swearing. Spoilers for the mini-drama "The Buddy". Also, the characters here are based on their personalities and character settings in the AU universe this story is set in.
Status: Complete
Characters: Nakai Masahiro, Kimura Takuya, Mukai Osamu
Guest Appearances: Inagaki Goro, Kusanagi Tsuyoshi, Katori Shingo
Pairings/Friendship: implied Nakai Masahiro x Kimura Takuya, Mukai Osamu + Kimura Takuya Friendship, Mukai Osamu + Nakai Masahiro Friendship
Universe: [AU] The Buddy (SMAPxSMAP)
Timeline: The aftermath of the mini-drama.
Summary: His head hurt. Why had Nakai Masahiro gone after them?
A/N: None of the characters/actors belong to me. This work is purely fiction and does not reflect the real opinions/lifestyles of the person(s) involved. Comments and criticisms are welcomed. ENJOY! XD
THE RIVAL
His head hurt.
A near silent hiss escaped Nakai Masahiro as he gingerly massaged his head. It wasn’t bleeding, but it hurt like hell; he was annoyed and exhausted, his entire body aching, and he just wanted to go home and get some shut eye.
‘Damn paperwork.’
It didn’t help that the paperwork he had to fill in seemed endless; a routine cycle of name, position, signature, rinse and repeat. He had read the first few documents, but after the millionth time of seeing the words “arrest”, “corruption” and “Inagaki Goro”, he had just allowed everything to flow over him.
‘Damn bastard.’
Even handcuffed and locked behind bars, Inagaki still managed to cause him such trouble. The throbbing of his head spiked; a reminder. But, a smug smirk stole its way on to Masahiro’s face when he recalled how he quite literally kicked the arrogant jerk in the arse. Several times.
Serves him right for hitting me.
‘Nakai-san.’
Masahiro was jerked from his delightful thoughts when a shadow loomed over the paper he was about to put his signature on. Blinking, he looked up into the very serious eyes of one Mukai Osamu.
‘Thank you for coming after us.’
A strange prickling crawled over the back of Masahiro’s neck and he looked away, unable to stop the hotness he could feel taking over his fair skin, more than a little uncomfortable by the intense earnestness and utter gratefulness that adorned every line on the junior police officer’s face.
‘Well, someone had to clean up the mess you’re bound to make when you go out with him,’ he shrugged, feigning casualness. He resisted the urge to flick his eyes across the room, looking for escape routes, feeling more and more like a dear in caught in headlights as Mukai opened his mouth to say something that Masahiro knew was going to be even more embarrassingly touching and honest.
It wouldn’t be Mukai Osamu if he didn’t.
‘Oi, Mukai!’
Whatever Mukai wanted to say never left his lips as the police officer was distracted, his entire body spinning in the direction of the call, seemingly forgetting Masahiro’s presence.
‘Senpai [1], you’re back!’
And, the younger man was off, nearly tripping over his own two feet in his haste of getting to his partner’s side. Masahiro watched as the anxious concern and restless hovering was batted aside by calm, casual reassurances. Part of Masahiro felt insulted that he could so easily be forgotten, especially since it was him that Masahiro was being compared to. Mostly however, he just felt relief swamp him. Dealing with Mukai’s straight-forward sincerity was not Nakai’s forte; the younger man was like an arrow that shot straight into the heart.
Admit it, you’re just relief that he’s back from his checkup and he’s fine.
Masahiro scoffed.
Why in the world would I be worried about that idiot? Him and his reckless streak of justice; it would’ve better if he had been shot or something. At least, that would teach him a lesson about running off on his own.
Aw… Is someone jealous that he took little Mukai-kun with him and not you?
Shut up!
Masahiro shook his head violently, but clearly, his mind had a will of its own.
Come on, you’re an intelligent man, Masahiro. If you weren’t worried, why did you go after them in the first place?
I was worried…about Mukai.
Yet, when you knew that Mukai was going to be all right, you still staked your life on the line.
I didn’t know that Mukai was going to be fine.
Liar. You knew that Mukai wasn’t going to be harmed, not physically at least. He’s young, eager, willing, easy… No, Inagaki would’ve spared Mukai. After all, he likes to keep things clean and simple, no fuss, no mess, and he was there for only one reason.
No matter how much Masahiro denied it, he knew it was true. Everything in his calculations told him that Inagaki would’ve spared Mukai’s life. There were other more convenient ways to shut him up; ways that could be used to avoid the additional kinks that came with his death.
No, only one person had been at the risk of dying that night.
Unconsciously, Masahiro’s gaze had drifted across the room, his eyes trailing over bright brown eyes, a strong jaw, a lean body, sleek muscles rippling under a T-shirt, mentally checking, cataloguing. He was unscathed, unharmed, which was close to a miracle considering the situation that they had been in.
The older police officer could still remember, the way his heart had stopped when Kimura Takuya had looked Mukai in the eye and commanded his partner to shoot him. Masahiro had wanted to yell at the infuriating man, had wanted to throttle him for teasing them all and making light of such a deadly situation.
It was his life he was talking about!
But, when not a hint, not a trace, of his usual annoyingly mischievous smirk was anywhere to be seen, Masahiro knew that he had been serious, deadly serious.
Of course, it wouldn’t be Kimura if he didn’t quip about how Mukai was going to miss anyway, so the younger officer shouldn’t be worried about hitting him. It would’ve been reassuring, funny even, if it hadn’t been for one thing: the note of acceptance that Masahiro could detect under the flippant jibe.
Kimura had been prepared. He had not given up; no, Masahiro knew that the stubborn police officer would’ve killed himself first before giving up. But, if push came to the shove, if Mukai had indeed shot him, he would’ve been prepared to forgive Mukai; it wasn’t his partner’s fault no matter how much Mukai blamed himself, he would’ve been prepared for the pain, the agony, the darkness; because he must’ve known, just as Masahiro did, that Inagaki had been after nobody but him and him alone. He would’ve been prepared.
Kimura would’ve been prepared to die.
And, Masahiro had turned away; unable to look.
Not when the man he used to loathe, not when the man he no longer hated, was going to die before his eyes, die at the hands of someone he called friend, partner.
Truly, it had been a miracle that the hired killer, Kusanagi, had somehow made a mistake. The security guard, the one who had been knocked unconscious, had woken up at a crucial moment, and his presence had broken the web that Inagaki had weaved around them, trapping them, entangling them. All it took was a fraction of a second, a single moment of hasty carelessness, and Kimura had moved, his lightning quick reflexes, sharpened by adrenaline, turning the tables in a blink of an eye.
‘Oi, Nakai!’
A sharp twack hit the side of his head, bringing his attention back in full-force to his hammering headache. This time, Masahiro couldn’t stop himself from taking a small step back as his thoughts were unceremoniously disrupted by two very intense, very brilliant, curious and questioning brown eyes very close to his face.
‘Are you sleeping with your eyes open? We’ve been trying to get your attention for ages. Mukai and I are planning to go out for a celebratory dinner; you want to join us? My treat.’
Growling irritably under his breath, Masahiro was about to brush off the offer with a snarky retort when Kimura’s last words filtered through his mind.
My treat.
‘He’s thanking me,’ the older officer belatedly realized, a familiar prickling crawling over his skin again. He didn’t even question how he could’ve jumped to that particular conclusion.
It was a feeling that just came from the implicit shared understanding between them.
Something in Masahiro’s expression must’ve tipped Kimura off to his answer because the other police officer wordlessly turned on his heels, making his way to the door, his partner by his side, before tilting his head towards the still frozen Masahiro in an unvoiced question. Coming?
Shoving down the welling of emotions he would rather not deal with, Masahiro merely grumbled. ‘I should throw you behind bars with that bastard. You knew he hit me on the head!’
You just want him in handcuffs so that you can have your wicked way with him. Police officer and prisoner, eh? I never knew you could be so kinky.
Masahiro groaned under his breath, wondering if he still had the chance to pull out of dinner.
This was going to be a long night.
And, his head still hurt.
~OWARI~
[1] "Senpai." A title that a junior uses to call a senior.