Kame/Nakamaru: the anchor that holds me, PG-13
Title: the anchor that holds me
Pairing: Kame/Nakamaru
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~3,900
Summary: Kame thinks they look like they're posing for the poster of a romantic movie when they do a photoshoot together. Nakamaru isn't really all that into romantic movies.
Notes: Established relationship domestic fluff. Nakamaru's pet's death is mentioned, but not in great detail.
the anchor that holds me
There’s a yellow background behind them. They’ve been paired up for a magazine shoot, and Kame’s staring steadily at Nakamaru as the photographer snaps away. Then it’s Kame’s turn to look at the camera while Nakamaru stares at him. “Nakamaru, please move a bit closer,” the photographer instructs.
They’re not really standing that far apart to begin with, but Nakamaru takes a tiny step forward anyway. He remembers all the times in the years past when Kame had, with the audience in mind, made kissy faces while approaching him until their lips were just an inch apart. Kame hasn’t done it recently.
Not since they got together, actually.
Nakamaru shuffles even closer, so that they’re pretty much touching at the hip. Kame leans back, laughing. It makes Nakamaru laugh, too. He hears the rapid clicks of the shutter release button. “That’s too close!” Kame complains.
It’s strange how it feels to be the one publicly invading Kame’s personal space instead of the other way round. Kame’s reaction is so interesting; it’s shy, almost. He probably didn’t expect Nakamaru to do that.
“Payback,” Nakamaru whispers so that only Kame can hear.
Kame steps back, still laughing, until they’re further apart than before. “What are you doing?” Nakamaru asks, mock-annoyed.
“It’s your fault,” Kame says.
“That was great!” the photographer interjects. “Now get those glasses from the table and put them on.”
They do as they’re told, and when the photographer has finished, they sit down in front of the computer to inspect the photos. Kame’s immediately chuckling at the first few, where they’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning their shoulders together. “We look like a couple,” Kame says, smirking. “It’s like we’re posing for the poster of a romantic movie.”
The staff around them laugh.
Nakamaru shoves Kame’s shoulder.
They scroll through the rest of the photos. “You always look cute in glasses,” Kame playfully comments. “Bet the girls are loving you in Omoni Naitemasu.”
Nakamaru thinks that Kame looks better in glasses than he does, but he’s especially charmed by the pictures of Kame leaning away from him and laughing. The gap between their bodies forms a V, pointing down to where their hips touch. He likes how natural they both seem, eyes creased shut with laughter.
Later, when they’re leaving the studio, Nakamaru asks, “You’re watching my drama?”
“Of course I am,” Kame replies. “I like your hair in it, too.” He turns his sunshine smile on Nakamaru, and Nakamaru wants nothing more right now than for the two of them to be truly as ordinary as people tell him he looks, just so that right now he can reach for Kame’s hand and keep holding it as they walk to where Kame’s car is parked.
---
Nakamaru hears Kame coming out of the bathroom, the soft sounds of his feet against the floor. He glances up briefly to the sight of Kame leaning against the door before resolutely looking back down at his sketchbook. “I’m trying to draw,” he says. “Stop distracting me.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Kame says. Nakamaru can tell from his footfalls and his voice that he’s coming closer.
“Put on a bathrobe or something,” Nakamaru mutters, desperately attempting to concentrate on his drawings.
“Is my naked body that enticing?” Kame says, laughing. God, his laugh. The sound of Kame’s laughter, Nakamaru thinks miserably, is somehow even more enticing than Kame’s naked body.
Kame’s shadow falls across the page of sketches.
Nakamaru scratches his pencil a few times onto the paper and then erases the lines again. He finds it really difficult to draw when somebody’s watching. Especially when that somebody is Kame, who smells really, really good, fresh out of the bath. It’s the kind of scent that makes Nakamaru crave sweet things.
Nakamaru sighs, frustrated, tapping his pencil against the edge of the table. “Fine,” Kame says, and walks away, presumably to go do one of his favourite post-bath activities.
Kame’s quavering alien voice drifts into the room some time later. Nakamaru drops his pencil and walks into the corridor.
Kame’s put on a yukata now and, as expected, he’s sitting in front of the fan. “Summer’s really starting to sink in, isn’t it?” Kame mumbles through the mask on his face, looking up at Nakamaru. “It’s nice. Wanna go to a sauna with me some time?”
“I am not going to a sauna with you,” Nakamaru says firmly. “You are ridiculous in a sauna. It’s enough hearing your stories about it.”
“What a pity,” Kame says. “I haven’t been to the sauna in a while now! My obsession is probably fading a little. How are your drawings going?”
“Not great,” Nakamaru says, crouching down next to Kame and leaning into the cool breeze from the fan. “One of my new character designs is missing something, but I’m not sure what it is.”
“Sorry, was I being too distracting?” Kame teases. He pats Nakamaru’s arm a couple of times. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Ran wanders over and then leaves again after Nakamaru pets it a few times, clearly bored by her owner’s inactive state. They stay like that for a while, until Kame’s decided he’s left the facial mask on for long enough. When Kame comes back after disposing of the mask and filling his dogs’ food bowls, he asks Nakamaru, “Have you ever thought about drawing me?”
Nakamaru shakes his head.
“Why not? I’m honestly curious.”
Nakamaru tries to gather the words in his head before explaining, haltingly: “Well, my drawings aren’t-- they’re really stylized. I don’t like drawing people that much. If I do draw people I don’t do it realistically. I like making funny characters out of things, or animals, or weird-looking monsters. I’m proud of my designs and illustrations, but I don’t think of my art as... beautiful, necessarily.”
Kame nods, slowly, looking thoughtful. Nakamaru trusts that Kame has understood the unspoken part of the explanation.
Kame’s so beautiful, whether he’s naked or in a dark blue yukata with his still drying hair blown by the fan into a haphazard mess, or standing on stage, sweating under layers of sparkly costumes from all the dancing and the heat of the stage lights, and Nakamaru doesn’t think he could ever draw Kame the way Kame deserves to be drawn.
---
Kame crowds his body against Nakamaru’s, sucking red kisses onto his collarbone. “I’m gonna make you pay for spraying my nipple with that thing today,” Kame says.
They’re at Nakamaru’s apartment after a long day of filming for the Fumetsu no Scrum PV. Nakamaru’s been working hard at some research for his thesis since he’d won at rock-paper-scissors and got to shoot his solo part first and go home the earliest.
Kame’s here now though, hours later, the last to leave the studio, and Nakamaru’s research had to be put aside as soon as Kame stepped through the front door, chucked his bag onto the nearest chair, and started kissing Nakamaru before he’d even taken off his shoes.
“You sprayed everybody else’s nipple with it first!” Nakamaru protests.
“Yeah, but you know how sensitive my nipples are,” Kame mutters, tugging at Nakamaru’s hair and glaring.
“I do,” Nakamaru cheerfully agrees as he starts to rub circles around Kame’s nipple through the material of Kame’s T-shirt. Kame moans outright, his head falling onto Nakamaru’s shoulder, so quickly defeated. He’s always so easy for this.
Nakamaru smirks and cups one hand under Kame’s chin to bring him up for a kiss as he slips his other hand under Kame’s T-shirt to toy with Kame’s nipples until they’re hard, tiny points against his thumb. The kiss deepens, and Nakamaru drinks up all the liquid moans that Kame pours into his mouth.
“Take off your shoes and come to bed,” Nakamaru murmurs against Kame’s lips.
“Don’t tire me out too much,” Kame says breathlessly. “I have work tomorrow, remember?”
“At three in the afternoon, I thought?” Nakamaru says, and Kame laughs into Nakamaru’s neck, kicks off his shoes, and lets Nakamaru take him to the bedroom, exchanging wet, willing kisses all the way there.
---
They’re sitting on the sofa in Nakamaru’s apartment and watching an old favourite of Nakamaru’s. It’s a film that Kame hasn’t seen before, and as they’re watching Kame says, once or twice, “Wow, this is really good,” and he sounds so surprised.
Actually Nakamaru’s seen this film so many times by now that he’s not entirely sure if he thinks it’s that good, anymore. He still calls it a favourite on principle, though.
Mister is sprawled on the sofa besides Nakamaru, and Nakamaru spends more time looking at Mister than at the TV screen. Nakamaru keeps smoothing his hand over Mister’s back and Mister in turn nuzzles Nakamaru’s thigh. Choco’s a dark ball of fur at Kame’s feet.
When it comes to the part of the film where Nakamaru used to cry, he’s about to turn to look at Kame’s reaction when Kame’s head drops onto his shoulder, clearly nodding off.
“How can you have fallen asleep at the best bit?” Nakamaru mutters quietly. He shakes his head and, after adjusting the volume of the movie, gingerly shifts Kame so that Kame’s leaning against the back of the sofa instead, and then he goes to fetch a blanket for Kame so that he won’t catch a cold in the air-conditioned room.
He comes back to a bleary-eyed Kame stroking Mister’s fur gently and mumbling something inaudible, presumably to Mister.
“And I just went and got a blanket for you,” Nakamaru says. He turns off the film entirely. “Now go to bed and sleep properly.”
“Yes, sir,” Kame says, mock-saluting him. “You go to sleep too, Mister and Choco.” He bends down to pat Choco’s head before getting up languidly and moving over to Nakamaru, grabbing Nakamaru’s shoulders and standing on tiptoes so he can lean over the heap of blanket in Nakamaru’s arms and kiss Nakamaru on the mouth.
---
After the recording for Music Lovers, Kame comes up to Nakamaru when no one’s looking and says, voice low, “Don’t think I didn’t see you letting the fans touch your butt.” He gropes Nakamaru’s ass to punctuate his point, and Nakamaru raises his eyebrows.
“Surely you’ve done more extreme things for fanservice,” he comments mildly.
“Yeah, but you’re not me,” Kame says, cradling Nakamaru’s jawline. “Trying to get rid of your shy awkward conservative image lately?”
“You know I’m not all that shy and awkward and conservative really,” Nakamaru says.
“Yeah, but I like having that part of you all to myself,” Kame replies, eyes tracing the curve of Nakamaru’s smirk. “And your ass is mine, too.” Then he abruptly starts to laugh, burying his reddening face in his hands. He peeks through his fingers at Nakamaru and says, “I can’t believe I just said that in all seriousness.”
“Who’s the shy and awkward and conservative one?” Nakamaru asks, and Kame huffs and slaps his arm.
---
They’ve been so busy lately, especially Kame, that they’ve hardly had any time to spend together in private, but they both recognise the importance of work, and it’s not like they don’t get to see each other a lot at work.
Two days after filming for the Youkai Ningen Bem movie comes to an end, Nakamaru gets a message from Kame asking him if he’s free. Half an hour later, Nakamaru’s sitting at a cafe with Kame opposite him. “Anne took Fuku-kun and me to this place,” Kame eagerly explains. “They have the best cakes and pastries, and there’s gelato too if you want some. And I love their coffee as well. Basically, everything here is amazing.”
Kame is already sipping at a mug.
Nakamaru gets up to check out the array of cakes behind their glass cases. The girl behind the counter enthusiastically recommends the many-layered chocolate cake with a complicated foreign name to him, and he’s more than happy to listen to her and buy a slice of that. He orders an iced mocha as well, and then he returns to his seat and starts to eat.
The cake melts and crumbles in his mouth, and he feels the set of his shoulders relax into the plush back of the chair and he’s shaking his head in disbelief, because he’s swooning over cake the same way teenage girls swoon over Kame. It leaves behind the most gorgeous bittersweet flavour on his tongue.
Kame laughs. “Look at you,” he says, eyes bright.
“What?” Nakamaru says around a mouthful of cake as he’s swiftly spooned some more into his mouth.
“I knew you’d like this place,” Kame says, smugly. “Your expressions of bliss are hilarious.”
Nakamaru savours some mocha: a cold sweet shock in his mouth, welcome respite from the heavy summer heat that he had waded through to get to this cafe. “Thanks for bringing me here,” he says earnestly, brushing his fingers against Kame’s where their hands rest close to each other on the table. “How are Dream Boys rehearsals going?”
“My arms ache,” Kame says. “And there’s one stunt that I still haven’t managed to complete. But it’s okay, I’m working at it. All my co-stars are so much fun to work with! I think I might not be doing this next year anymore. There are a few people who could take over.”
Nakamaru blinks. There’s a sudden tightness in his chest that he doesn’t understand. He eats some more cake as he tries to consider what’s making him feel so strange. The soft tinkling melody that’s playing in the cafe and that he’s become too aware of isn’t really helping.
“That’s so weird,” he says, slowly, still trying to shape his feelings into coherent thought. “You’re going to stop doing Dream Boys next year.”
“It’s not definite, yet,” Kame says. “We’ll see how this year’s run goes.”
“But you’ve been doing it for so long,” Nakamaru says. “It’s weird to think of you not doing it anymore. I’ve been thinking of it as your thing for so long. And that you’ll pass the role on to someone else...”
Kame smiles. “That’s the way things go, right? I’m happy to see that some of our juniors have grown up so much. I’d be excited to see one of them in the lead role!”
“True,” Nakamaru says. But it’s not really the fact that their juniors have grown up that’s making him feel so light-headed. It’s Kame. It’s Kame and it’s Nakamaru and how much they’ve both grown up since Dream Boys 2005, or really since Kame was Takki’s understudy in 2004.
Remembering those couple of years always makes Nakamaru feel regretful. He’d noticed how isolated Kame seemed from the group, but he’d never made that much of an effort to reach out to him. Nakamaru hadn’t been all that mature himself at that time, though compared to the rest of KAT-TUN he’d probably seemed like a wise old man even then.
Sometimes he gets an image of Kame’s skinny frame at eighteen, nineteen, thin pale lips pressed into that perpetual emotionless line, standing alone somewhere, limned in light but surrounded by darkness, and Nakamaru doesn’t know whether it’s a figment or a memory.
But here’s Kame, drinking coffee with him and smiling at him, and tonight he will hold Kame tight in his arms, and he won’t let go even in sleep.
He takes in a shuddery breath, and manages to say, “I can’t wait to see Dream Boys next month,” and finds joy in the pleased crinkle of Kame’s eyes.
---
On the morning of Nakamaru’s birthday, Kame makes him an extra large breakfast before dashing out of the door, but not forgetting to kiss Nakamaru before he leaves. He says, happy birthday, and Nakamaru says, good luck and thank you.
---
They’re talking on the phone and Nakamaru tells him about this week’s shooting for Shuuichi, and how his neighbour’s kid has come home from a summer camp abroad or something and has acquired a new, terrible taste in music. He was playing really loud music last night, and Mister was staying overnight at the vet’s, and Kame asks about Mister, and Nakamaru still doesn’t really know. It was a sleepless night, all in all.
Kame says, “I wish I’d been there to keep you company.” And even that, such simple words, Kame’s gentle reassuring voice by his ear, makes Nakamaru’s day feel a little less like a foggy-headed disaster, even as he’s heading to the vet’s in trepidation.
---
“Thanks for coming to Dream Boys today,” Kame says, and Nakamaru wraps an arm around him and draws him closer. Nakamaru’s just arrived at Kame’s flat minutes ago. Kame is wearing a long, oversized faded T-shirt that might have been black once upon a time, and maybe boxers underneath, though Nakamaru guesses that he’s just thrown the T-shirt on so that he wouldn’t be seen answering the door completely naked.
Kame doesn’t ask what did you think, but Nakamaru hears it anyway. “It was great,” he says. “You were great. I can’t believe those amazing stunts you did. I was sweating just watching you.”
Kame laughs. “Of course you were,” he says. Nakamaru’s heard from other people how extremely difficult those stunts are to pull off, but Kame never really talks about it himself unless he’s asked. Kame tangles his hand in Nakamaru’s hair and presses his cheek against Nakamaru’s. Nakamaru wonders if he’s going to bring up what happened with Mister, but Kame’s probably waiting for him to mention it first.
Dream Boys had taken his mind off things for a while, but then he’d gone home and sat there scratching Choco’s ears while staring blankly into space. The same thought kept slamming into him, like waves against the face of a cliff: Choco must feel so sad and lonely too.
Occasionally he’d tried to think about how to write the next part of his thesis, but he never got anywhere with that.
Kame’s warm presence makes him feel a little less dizzy with grief. Jelly’s been sniffing at his feet since he walked in; Ran’s lost interest in him and has now settled down in front of the kitchen door.
“Let’s watch a movie,” Kame says, turning his head to kiss the corner of Nakamaru’s mouth.
“You must be so tired after doing two shows today,” Nakamaru says. “Why don’t we just go to bed? If we watch a movie, you’ll just fall asleep on me like you do every time.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault that sometimes your war movies are really boring,” Kame says. “Some of them are good, though. Pick a good one.”
“You fell asleep the last time we watched a ‘good one’, too,” Nakamaru points out. “How about we watch a comedy this time? Something you like.”
“Really?” Kame’s face lights up. “Choose one from that pile of romantic comedies over there. I’ll heat up the stew I made yesterday. You want some?”
“I don’t understand how you always find the time to cook despite your ridiculously busy schedule,” Nakamaru says. “I mean, stew, of all things? How long did it take? It’s still summer and you had an evening show!”
Kame shrugs. “It’s Kamenashi cooking magic,” he says. Nakamaru rolls his eyes. More like Kamenashi magic, in general. Works for everything. Oh, that and a lack of sleep, obviously. “I got some interesting tips from a friend so I wanted to try them out immediately. You want some or not?”
“Of course I do,” Nakamaru says. “I could never refuse your cooking, you know that, right?”
“Even if there are green peas?” Kame says, grinning.
“Okay, maybe not,” Nakamaru concedes. “You haven’t put green peas in the stew, have you?”
Kame cackles and steps over Ran to go into the kitchen. Nakamaru sits down on the sofa and sifts through Kame’s DVDs. Jelly has followed him over into the living room. Nakamaru waves two of the DVDs in front of Jelly’s face, inviting her to make a decision for him.
She tilts her head up at him quizzically, which makes his heart go all soft and achey. He puts down the DVDs and picks up Jelly, plopping her down on his lap, leans down so that they’re nose-to-nose, and he says, “I loved him so much, you know.” His voice wavers and he swallows down the lump in his throat.
Kame swoops down in front of him and puts a bowl of stew down on the tea table, holding the other one in his hand. “If you want to talk, you know I’ll always listen, right?” he asks, looking Nakamaru in the eye.
Nakamaru smiles a little. “It’s all right. Ueda called me yesterday and we talked for an hour on the phone, which really helped because you know, one of his dogs died quite a few years ago, but he still remembers it clearly. You know how much he loves his animals. And watching your show helped, and your pets are helping, too.” He kisses Jelly fondly.
Kame nods. “Okay. But remember I’m always here if you need me.” He gestures at the DVDs. “Which one have you chosen?”
Nakamaru points to a random one. “That one,” he replies, and Kame inserts it into the DVD player, and then he curls up, knees touching chin, on the sofa next to Nakamaru, munching stewed beef. Nakamaru tries a spoonful of stew, and it warms him to the bone. No green peas, to his relief.
“Stew is comfort food, isn’t it?” Kame says, as the screen shows the female lead going through her ordinary day, unaware that the love of her life is about to make a dazzling appearance and change her life forever.
And then Nakamaru realised Kame must have started to make the stew after he’d heard about Mister.
Nakamaru keeps eating until the bowl is clean, and then he goes into the kitchen to heat up some more.
He comes back out to discover that Ran has stolen his place on the sofa. “Move over, Ran-chan,” Kame says, giggling. “You’re just jealous that I spent so much time with Big Nose these days, aren’t you?”
Nakamaru doesn’t even bother to protest. Kame gently pushes Ran a little further away and Nakamaru resumes his seat, and they continue to watch the movie, following the characters through their attempts at romantic dates and their awful misunderstandings, until Nakamaru can sense Kame drooping. “Go to bed,” Nakamaru says. “You may not have any Dream Boys shows tomorrow but we’re shooting for Damena Yoru.”
“Yucchi,” Kame says, his voice deepening from sleepiness as he leans on Nakamaru's shoulder, “don’t you think we’re better than all those couples in the movies?”
“I’m no expert in romantic movies,” Nakamaru says. “You know what kinds of films I like to watch, where everyone’s angry or in despair and just fighting and killing each other all the time.” But he’s thinking, yes, they’re at least better than whatever’s playing on the screen right now.
Kame smiles up at him, eyelids fluttering half-shut, and Nakamaru thinks, surer this time, yes, definitely, always, and he tugs on Kame’s hand, twining their fingers together as he leads Kame to the bedroom.
Pairing: Kame/Nakamaru
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~3,900
Summary: Kame thinks they look like they're posing for the poster of a romantic movie when they do a photoshoot together. Nakamaru isn't really all that into romantic movies.
Notes: Established relationship domestic fluff. Nakamaru's pet's death is mentioned, but not in great detail.
the anchor that holds me
There’s a yellow background behind them. They’ve been paired up for a magazine shoot, and Kame’s staring steadily at Nakamaru as the photographer snaps away. Then it’s Kame’s turn to look at the camera while Nakamaru stares at him. “Nakamaru, please move a bit closer,” the photographer instructs.
They’re not really standing that far apart to begin with, but Nakamaru takes a tiny step forward anyway. He remembers all the times in the years past when Kame had, with the audience in mind, made kissy faces while approaching him until their lips were just an inch apart. Kame hasn’t done it recently.
Not since they got together, actually.
Nakamaru shuffles even closer, so that they’re pretty much touching at the hip. Kame leans back, laughing. It makes Nakamaru laugh, too. He hears the rapid clicks of the shutter release button. “That’s too close!” Kame complains.
It’s strange how it feels to be the one publicly invading Kame’s personal space instead of the other way round. Kame’s reaction is so interesting; it’s shy, almost. He probably didn’t expect Nakamaru to do that.
“Payback,” Nakamaru whispers so that only Kame can hear.
Kame steps back, still laughing, until they’re further apart than before. “What are you doing?” Nakamaru asks, mock-annoyed.
“It’s your fault,” Kame says.
“That was great!” the photographer interjects. “Now get those glasses from the table and put them on.”
They do as they’re told, and when the photographer has finished, they sit down in front of the computer to inspect the photos. Kame’s immediately chuckling at the first few, where they’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning their shoulders together. “We look like a couple,” Kame says, smirking. “It’s like we’re posing for the poster of a romantic movie.”
The staff around them laugh.
Nakamaru shoves Kame’s shoulder.
They scroll through the rest of the photos. “You always look cute in glasses,” Kame playfully comments. “Bet the girls are loving you in Omoni Naitemasu.”
Nakamaru thinks that Kame looks better in glasses than he does, but he’s especially charmed by the pictures of Kame leaning away from him and laughing. The gap between their bodies forms a V, pointing down to where their hips touch. He likes how natural they both seem, eyes creased shut with laughter.
Later, when they’re leaving the studio, Nakamaru asks, “You’re watching my drama?”
“Of course I am,” Kame replies. “I like your hair in it, too.” He turns his sunshine smile on Nakamaru, and Nakamaru wants nothing more right now than for the two of them to be truly as ordinary as people tell him he looks, just so that right now he can reach for Kame’s hand and keep holding it as they walk to where Kame’s car is parked.
---
Nakamaru hears Kame coming out of the bathroom, the soft sounds of his feet against the floor. He glances up briefly to the sight of Kame leaning against the door before resolutely looking back down at his sketchbook. “I’m trying to draw,” he says. “Stop distracting me.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Kame says. Nakamaru can tell from his footfalls and his voice that he’s coming closer.
“Put on a bathrobe or something,” Nakamaru mutters, desperately attempting to concentrate on his drawings.
“Is my naked body that enticing?” Kame says, laughing. God, his laugh. The sound of Kame’s laughter, Nakamaru thinks miserably, is somehow even more enticing than Kame’s naked body.
Kame’s shadow falls across the page of sketches.
Nakamaru scratches his pencil a few times onto the paper and then erases the lines again. He finds it really difficult to draw when somebody’s watching. Especially when that somebody is Kame, who smells really, really good, fresh out of the bath. It’s the kind of scent that makes Nakamaru crave sweet things.
Nakamaru sighs, frustrated, tapping his pencil against the edge of the table. “Fine,” Kame says, and walks away, presumably to go do one of his favourite post-bath activities.
Kame’s quavering alien voice drifts into the room some time later. Nakamaru drops his pencil and walks into the corridor.
Kame’s put on a yukata now and, as expected, he’s sitting in front of the fan. “Summer’s really starting to sink in, isn’t it?” Kame mumbles through the mask on his face, looking up at Nakamaru. “It’s nice. Wanna go to a sauna with me some time?”
“I am not going to a sauna with you,” Nakamaru says firmly. “You are ridiculous in a sauna. It’s enough hearing your stories about it.”
“What a pity,” Kame says. “I haven’t been to the sauna in a while now! My obsession is probably fading a little. How are your drawings going?”
“Not great,” Nakamaru says, crouching down next to Kame and leaning into the cool breeze from the fan. “One of my new character designs is missing something, but I’m not sure what it is.”
“Sorry, was I being too distracting?” Kame teases. He pats Nakamaru’s arm a couple of times. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Ran wanders over and then leaves again after Nakamaru pets it a few times, clearly bored by her owner’s inactive state. They stay like that for a while, until Kame’s decided he’s left the facial mask on for long enough. When Kame comes back after disposing of the mask and filling his dogs’ food bowls, he asks Nakamaru, “Have you ever thought about drawing me?”
Nakamaru shakes his head.
“Why not? I’m honestly curious.”
Nakamaru tries to gather the words in his head before explaining, haltingly: “Well, my drawings aren’t-- they’re really stylized. I don’t like drawing people that much. If I do draw people I don’t do it realistically. I like making funny characters out of things, or animals, or weird-looking monsters. I’m proud of my designs and illustrations, but I don’t think of my art as... beautiful, necessarily.”
Kame nods, slowly, looking thoughtful. Nakamaru trusts that Kame has understood the unspoken part of the explanation.
Kame’s so beautiful, whether he’s naked or in a dark blue yukata with his still drying hair blown by the fan into a haphazard mess, or standing on stage, sweating under layers of sparkly costumes from all the dancing and the heat of the stage lights, and Nakamaru doesn’t think he could ever draw Kame the way Kame deserves to be drawn.
---
Kame crowds his body against Nakamaru’s, sucking red kisses onto his collarbone. “I’m gonna make you pay for spraying my nipple with that thing today,” Kame says.
They’re at Nakamaru’s apartment after a long day of filming for the Fumetsu no Scrum PV. Nakamaru’s been working hard at some research for his thesis since he’d won at rock-paper-scissors and got to shoot his solo part first and go home the earliest.
Kame’s here now though, hours later, the last to leave the studio, and Nakamaru’s research had to be put aside as soon as Kame stepped through the front door, chucked his bag onto the nearest chair, and started kissing Nakamaru before he’d even taken off his shoes.
“You sprayed everybody else’s nipple with it first!” Nakamaru protests.
“Yeah, but you know how sensitive my nipples are,” Kame mutters, tugging at Nakamaru’s hair and glaring.
“I do,” Nakamaru cheerfully agrees as he starts to rub circles around Kame’s nipple through the material of Kame’s T-shirt. Kame moans outright, his head falling onto Nakamaru’s shoulder, so quickly defeated. He’s always so easy for this.
Nakamaru smirks and cups one hand under Kame’s chin to bring him up for a kiss as he slips his other hand under Kame’s T-shirt to toy with Kame’s nipples until they’re hard, tiny points against his thumb. The kiss deepens, and Nakamaru drinks up all the liquid moans that Kame pours into his mouth.
“Take off your shoes and come to bed,” Nakamaru murmurs against Kame’s lips.
“Don’t tire me out too much,” Kame says breathlessly. “I have work tomorrow, remember?”
“At three in the afternoon, I thought?” Nakamaru says, and Kame laughs into Nakamaru’s neck, kicks off his shoes, and lets Nakamaru take him to the bedroom, exchanging wet, willing kisses all the way there.
---
They’re sitting on the sofa in Nakamaru’s apartment and watching an old favourite of Nakamaru’s. It’s a film that Kame hasn’t seen before, and as they’re watching Kame says, once or twice, “Wow, this is really good,” and he sounds so surprised.
Actually Nakamaru’s seen this film so many times by now that he’s not entirely sure if he thinks it’s that good, anymore. He still calls it a favourite on principle, though.
Mister is sprawled on the sofa besides Nakamaru, and Nakamaru spends more time looking at Mister than at the TV screen. Nakamaru keeps smoothing his hand over Mister’s back and Mister in turn nuzzles Nakamaru’s thigh. Choco’s a dark ball of fur at Kame’s feet.
When it comes to the part of the film where Nakamaru used to cry, he’s about to turn to look at Kame’s reaction when Kame’s head drops onto his shoulder, clearly nodding off.
“How can you have fallen asleep at the best bit?” Nakamaru mutters quietly. He shakes his head and, after adjusting the volume of the movie, gingerly shifts Kame so that Kame’s leaning against the back of the sofa instead, and then he goes to fetch a blanket for Kame so that he won’t catch a cold in the air-conditioned room.
He comes back to a bleary-eyed Kame stroking Mister’s fur gently and mumbling something inaudible, presumably to Mister.
“And I just went and got a blanket for you,” Nakamaru says. He turns off the film entirely. “Now go to bed and sleep properly.”
“Yes, sir,” Kame says, mock-saluting him. “You go to sleep too, Mister and Choco.” He bends down to pat Choco’s head before getting up languidly and moving over to Nakamaru, grabbing Nakamaru’s shoulders and standing on tiptoes so he can lean over the heap of blanket in Nakamaru’s arms and kiss Nakamaru on the mouth.
---
After the recording for Music Lovers, Kame comes up to Nakamaru when no one’s looking and says, voice low, “Don’t think I didn’t see you letting the fans touch your butt.” He gropes Nakamaru’s ass to punctuate his point, and Nakamaru raises his eyebrows.
“Surely you’ve done more extreme things for fanservice,” he comments mildly.
“Yeah, but you’re not me,” Kame says, cradling Nakamaru’s jawline. “Trying to get rid of your shy awkward conservative image lately?”
“You know I’m not all that shy and awkward and conservative really,” Nakamaru says.
“Yeah, but I like having that part of you all to myself,” Kame replies, eyes tracing the curve of Nakamaru’s smirk. “And your ass is mine, too.” Then he abruptly starts to laugh, burying his reddening face in his hands. He peeks through his fingers at Nakamaru and says, “I can’t believe I just said that in all seriousness.”
“Who’s the shy and awkward and conservative one?” Nakamaru asks, and Kame huffs and slaps his arm.
---
They’ve been so busy lately, especially Kame, that they’ve hardly had any time to spend together in private, but they both recognise the importance of work, and it’s not like they don’t get to see each other a lot at work.
Two days after filming for the Youkai Ningen Bem movie comes to an end, Nakamaru gets a message from Kame asking him if he’s free. Half an hour later, Nakamaru’s sitting at a cafe with Kame opposite him. “Anne took Fuku-kun and me to this place,” Kame eagerly explains. “They have the best cakes and pastries, and there’s gelato too if you want some. And I love their coffee as well. Basically, everything here is amazing.”
Kame is already sipping at a mug.
Nakamaru gets up to check out the array of cakes behind their glass cases. The girl behind the counter enthusiastically recommends the many-layered chocolate cake with a complicated foreign name to him, and he’s more than happy to listen to her and buy a slice of that. He orders an iced mocha as well, and then he returns to his seat and starts to eat.
The cake melts and crumbles in his mouth, and he feels the set of his shoulders relax into the plush back of the chair and he’s shaking his head in disbelief, because he’s swooning over cake the same way teenage girls swoon over Kame. It leaves behind the most gorgeous bittersweet flavour on his tongue.
Kame laughs. “Look at you,” he says, eyes bright.
“What?” Nakamaru says around a mouthful of cake as he’s swiftly spooned some more into his mouth.
“I knew you’d like this place,” Kame says, smugly. “Your expressions of bliss are hilarious.”
Nakamaru savours some mocha: a cold sweet shock in his mouth, welcome respite from the heavy summer heat that he had waded through to get to this cafe. “Thanks for bringing me here,” he says earnestly, brushing his fingers against Kame’s where their hands rest close to each other on the table. “How are Dream Boys rehearsals going?”
“My arms ache,” Kame says. “And there’s one stunt that I still haven’t managed to complete. But it’s okay, I’m working at it. All my co-stars are so much fun to work with! I think I might not be doing this next year anymore. There are a few people who could take over.”
Nakamaru blinks. There’s a sudden tightness in his chest that he doesn’t understand. He eats some more cake as he tries to consider what’s making him feel so strange. The soft tinkling melody that’s playing in the cafe and that he’s become too aware of isn’t really helping.
“That’s so weird,” he says, slowly, still trying to shape his feelings into coherent thought. “You’re going to stop doing Dream Boys next year.”
“It’s not definite, yet,” Kame says. “We’ll see how this year’s run goes.”
“But you’ve been doing it for so long,” Nakamaru says. “It’s weird to think of you not doing it anymore. I’ve been thinking of it as your thing for so long. And that you’ll pass the role on to someone else...”
Kame smiles. “That’s the way things go, right? I’m happy to see that some of our juniors have grown up so much. I’d be excited to see one of them in the lead role!”
“True,” Nakamaru says. But it’s not really the fact that their juniors have grown up that’s making him feel so light-headed. It’s Kame. It’s Kame and it’s Nakamaru and how much they’ve both grown up since Dream Boys 2005, or really since Kame was Takki’s understudy in 2004.
Remembering those couple of years always makes Nakamaru feel regretful. He’d noticed how isolated Kame seemed from the group, but he’d never made that much of an effort to reach out to him. Nakamaru hadn’t been all that mature himself at that time, though compared to the rest of KAT-TUN he’d probably seemed like a wise old man even then.
Sometimes he gets an image of Kame’s skinny frame at eighteen, nineteen, thin pale lips pressed into that perpetual emotionless line, standing alone somewhere, limned in light but surrounded by darkness, and Nakamaru doesn’t know whether it’s a figment or a memory.
But here’s Kame, drinking coffee with him and smiling at him, and tonight he will hold Kame tight in his arms, and he won’t let go even in sleep.
He takes in a shuddery breath, and manages to say, “I can’t wait to see Dream Boys next month,” and finds joy in the pleased crinkle of Kame’s eyes.
---
On the morning of Nakamaru’s birthday, Kame makes him an extra large breakfast before dashing out of the door, but not forgetting to kiss Nakamaru before he leaves. He says, happy birthday, and Nakamaru says, good luck and thank you.
---
They’re talking on the phone and Nakamaru tells him about this week’s shooting for Shuuichi, and how his neighbour’s kid has come home from a summer camp abroad or something and has acquired a new, terrible taste in music. He was playing really loud music last night, and Mister was staying overnight at the vet’s, and Kame asks about Mister, and Nakamaru still doesn’t really know. It was a sleepless night, all in all.
Kame says, “I wish I’d been there to keep you company.” And even that, such simple words, Kame’s gentle reassuring voice by his ear, makes Nakamaru’s day feel a little less like a foggy-headed disaster, even as he’s heading to the vet’s in trepidation.
---
“Thanks for coming to Dream Boys today,” Kame says, and Nakamaru wraps an arm around him and draws him closer. Nakamaru’s just arrived at Kame’s flat minutes ago. Kame is wearing a long, oversized faded T-shirt that might have been black once upon a time, and maybe boxers underneath, though Nakamaru guesses that he’s just thrown the T-shirt on so that he wouldn’t be seen answering the door completely naked.
Kame doesn’t ask what did you think, but Nakamaru hears it anyway. “It was great,” he says. “You were great. I can’t believe those amazing stunts you did. I was sweating just watching you.”
Kame laughs. “Of course you were,” he says. Nakamaru’s heard from other people how extremely difficult those stunts are to pull off, but Kame never really talks about it himself unless he’s asked. Kame tangles his hand in Nakamaru’s hair and presses his cheek against Nakamaru’s. Nakamaru wonders if he’s going to bring up what happened with Mister, but Kame’s probably waiting for him to mention it first.
Dream Boys had taken his mind off things for a while, but then he’d gone home and sat there scratching Choco’s ears while staring blankly into space. The same thought kept slamming into him, like waves against the face of a cliff: Choco must feel so sad and lonely too.
Occasionally he’d tried to think about how to write the next part of his thesis, but he never got anywhere with that.
Kame’s warm presence makes him feel a little less dizzy with grief. Jelly’s been sniffing at his feet since he walked in; Ran’s lost interest in him and has now settled down in front of the kitchen door.
“Let’s watch a movie,” Kame says, turning his head to kiss the corner of Nakamaru’s mouth.
“You must be so tired after doing two shows today,” Nakamaru says. “Why don’t we just go to bed? If we watch a movie, you’ll just fall asleep on me like you do every time.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault that sometimes your war movies are really boring,” Kame says. “Some of them are good, though. Pick a good one.”
“You fell asleep the last time we watched a ‘good one’, too,” Nakamaru points out. “How about we watch a comedy this time? Something you like.”
“Really?” Kame’s face lights up. “Choose one from that pile of romantic comedies over there. I’ll heat up the stew I made yesterday. You want some?”
“I don’t understand how you always find the time to cook despite your ridiculously busy schedule,” Nakamaru says. “I mean, stew, of all things? How long did it take? It’s still summer and you had an evening show!”
Kame shrugs. “It’s Kamenashi cooking magic,” he says. Nakamaru rolls his eyes. More like Kamenashi magic, in general. Works for everything. Oh, that and a lack of sleep, obviously. “I got some interesting tips from a friend so I wanted to try them out immediately. You want some or not?”
“Of course I do,” Nakamaru says. “I could never refuse your cooking, you know that, right?”
“Even if there are green peas?” Kame says, grinning.
“Okay, maybe not,” Nakamaru concedes. “You haven’t put green peas in the stew, have you?”
Kame cackles and steps over Ran to go into the kitchen. Nakamaru sits down on the sofa and sifts through Kame’s DVDs. Jelly has followed him over into the living room. Nakamaru waves two of the DVDs in front of Jelly’s face, inviting her to make a decision for him.
She tilts her head up at him quizzically, which makes his heart go all soft and achey. He puts down the DVDs and picks up Jelly, plopping her down on his lap, leans down so that they’re nose-to-nose, and he says, “I loved him so much, you know.” His voice wavers and he swallows down the lump in his throat.
Kame swoops down in front of him and puts a bowl of stew down on the tea table, holding the other one in his hand. “If you want to talk, you know I’ll always listen, right?” he asks, looking Nakamaru in the eye.
Nakamaru smiles a little. “It’s all right. Ueda called me yesterday and we talked for an hour on the phone, which really helped because you know, one of his dogs died quite a few years ago, but he still remembers it clearly. You know how much he loves his animals. And watching your show helped, and your pets are helping, too.” He kisses Jelly fondly.
Kame nods. “Okay. But remember I’m always here if you need me.” He gestures at the DVDs. “Which one have you chosen?”
Nakamaru points to a random one. “That one,” he replies, and Kame inserts it into the DVD player, and then he curls up, knees touching chin, on the sofa next to Nakamaru, munching stewed beef. Nakamaru tries a spoonful of stew, and it warms him to the bone. No green peas, to his relief.
“Stew is comfort food, isn’t it?” Kame says, as the screen shows the female lead going through her ordinary day, unaware that the love of her life is about to make a dazzling appearance and change her life forever.
And then Nakamaru realised Kame must have started to make the stew after he’d heard about Mister.
Nakamaru keeps eating until the bowl is clean, and then he goes into the kitchen to heat up some more.
He comes back out to discover that Ran has stolen his place on the sofa. “Move over, Ran-chan,” Kame says, giggling. “You’re just jealous that I spent so much time with Big Nose these days, aren’t you?”
Nakamaru doesn’t even bother to protest. Kame gently pushes Ran a little further away and Nakamaru resumes his seat, and they continue to watch the movie, following the characters through their attempts at romantic dates and their awful misunderstandings, until Nakamaru can sense Kame drooping. “Go to bed,” Nakamaru says. “You may not have any Dream Boys shows tomorrow but we’re shooting for Damena Yoru.”
“Yucchi,” Kame says, his voice deepening from sleepiness as he leans on Nakamaru's shoulder, “don’t you think we’re better than all those couples in the movies?”
“I’m no expert in romantic movies,” Nakamaru says. “You know what kinds of films I like to watch, where everyone’s angry or in despair and just fighting and killing each other all the time.” But he’s thinking, yes, they’re at least better than whatever’s playing on the screen right now.
Kame smiles up at him, eyelids fluttering half-shut, and Nakamaru thinks, surer this time, yes, definitely, always, and he tugs on Kame’s hand, twining their fingers together as he leads Kame to the bedroom.