Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better [Chapter 2]
Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better
Author: Thursday Saint Giles
Pairing: Gackt/Miyavi
Rating: NC-17 (eventually) PG-13 (for language for now)
Summary: SKIN needs a forth member, but Gackt still isn’t sure why they need anyone but him. Also, Crack!Fic
Video reference for this chapter:
Title:
“It’s just this little thing with me and Sugizo. Andmrapt,” Yoshiki mumbled.
“Doing rap?” Miyavi asked dubiously.
“Er…and Gackt,” Yoshiki clarified.
Miyavi’s brows rose in disbelief. “Gackt does rap?”
“Er. No. Look,” Yoshiki said, “there is no rap. We want you to play. And sing, sometimes…”
“You don’t so sure about the last,” Miyavi told him, arching a brow. Couldn’t say he blamed the guy. He sang for shit. “So you want me to be in a band with three legends? You guys are fucking stars.”
“Yeah, and so are you,” Sugizo said in a ‘duh’ tone of voice.
Miyavi relaxed in his seat. “Well, yeah.”
“We really want you to be a part of Skin,” Yoshiki told him
Miyavi wasn’t sure how to take all of this. “Have you guys even heard any of my stuff?”
Sugizo and Yoshiki exchanged bemused looks. “Yes…” Sugizo said slowly.
“Oh,” Miyavi muttered, puzzled. Then another thought occurred to him. He sucked long on his plastic cig. “Are you sure it was me?”
It wasn’t that Miyavi didn’t have the utmost pride and belief in his own talent and skill, but he’d never imagined some old school, hard-core visual band dudes to recognise it. He had been pretty sure they’d get him to the studio, jam for five minutes, and kick him out on his ass. One didn’t have to be a genius to see that his style didn’t quite mesh with that of, say, Gackt.
And what about Gackt, anyway? Miyavi was quite content with being a solo artist-in fact he prided himself on his ability to write and play all of his own stuff. But he did just as well with a group of musicians equal to the task. Gackt, however, was infamous for being impossible to work with, always clashing creatively with others. And Yoshiki was a total control freak in the studio, always having things his way. How the hell was that supposed to work?
But Yoshiki had seemed sincere, and later Sugizo had called him and they’d talked for over an hour about the project and somehow Miyavi found himself tentatively agreeing. He wasn’t putting anything in writing yet. He’d never even seen Gackt in person, and he didn’t have the slightest inkling how that first meeting would go…
Which was how he found himself at Yoshiki’s private studio the following day, ready for anything.
“So,” Gackt said, without preamble or introduction, sidling up to Miyavi as he walked in the door. Miyavi took it in stride, refusing to jump. He glanced at Gackt sidelong, taking in those familiar features that were just as perfect up close as they were in advertisements and videos. “What do you do?”
“Everything,” Miyavi answered smoothly.
Gackt kinda hated him. Sugizo was cool, he guessed. Regardless of what he’d done on the stage in the past, he was actually pretty laid back and he was good at what he did. And he was content to let Gackt have the limelight. After all, Sugizo was moving past his prime. He was still in excellent physical condition and he was still…attractive…but he didn’t still have that raw magnetism of Luna Sea’s early days.
Yoshiki was intense in a way Gackt totally got, and they two of them were a dynamic creative team. Sometimes Sugizo had to leave when they started fighting over something, but in the end, the piece was better for it. And Yoshiki had a delicate, ethereal beauty that was entirely ageless, but didn’t know very well how to sell that, and with his current hair, there was no way anyone would be looking his way over Gackt.
But Miyavi…whether he wanted to admit it or not, the kid was gorgeous, and he might as well admit it so he could deal with it. His face was so imperfect-one eye larger than the other, one side of his mouth fuller than the other, his nose bigger than suited his face, and he was practically covered in tattoos from head to toe. Yet somehow, he was all the more beautiful for it. The slope of his eyes, the arch of his brow, the way his piercings only enhanced the imperfections…and that smooth, flawless skin that should have only been possible in Photoshop interrupted by clean black lines of ink. And then he smiled and the world turned on its head because there was nothing like him when he was truly happy. Gackt had thought he’d known what beautiful looked like on a man when he’d met Hyde, but Miyavi was proving him wrong.
When Miyavi said he did everything, he just about meant it. The kid played like a pro, and looking at his older videos from his visual kei days, he had the raw talent and the know-how since his teens. It might have been embarrassing for an inferior musician, but Gackt was pretty sure he still owned the kid in skill.
Anything Miyavi could do, Gackt could do better.
Which was why he was waiting for Miyavi’s arrival avidly, having set up everything just right. Miyavi was ten minutes late. Gackt was punctual-ten minutes early every day, at least. Gackt had brought this tardiness up to Yoshiki who had given him an odd look and said something about no set schedule.
Miyavi strode in five minutes later dressed in torn jeans that hung so low that his boxers hung out, two hoodies in clashing neon colours over a white wife beater, and two baseball caps, both and different strange angles. His long ponytail looked like it hadn’t been brushed and he was wearing thick eyeliner and no other make up. Somehow, he made it look fabulous.
He stopped short at the two empty cardboard boxes on the floor in his path. He shot a look at Gackt, then back at the boxes. “Somebody movin’?”
“I don’t think you can actually fit in that box,” Gackt said, pointing at the larger of the two.
“I’m sorry, what?” Miyavi asked, in that chilly voice he had that said if there was a misunderstanding, it wasn’t his fault.
“I don’t think you can fit in that box. I think the one in your video had the bottom cut out and their was a hole in the ground, or you were on a platform,” Gackt told him matter-of-factly.
“Are you for real?” Miyavi asked, blinking at him.
“Quit stalling and get in the box,” Gackt snapped.
Miyavi edged backward toward the door. “I knew you couldn’t do it,” Gackt said triumphantly. Something like challenge sparked in Miyavi’s eyes. “I can fit in the smaller one.”
“Of course you can,” Miyavi said venomously. “You’re way shorter than I am.” And he stepped into the box, first with one foot, then the other, and tucked himself in it neatly. The smaller box. Gackt’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Suddenly, Miyavi’s face lit up with mischievous glee. “Hey, wanna see what else I can fit into?”
Author: Thursday Saint Giles
Pairing: Gackt/Miyavi
Rating: NC-17 (eventually) PG-13 (for language for now)
Summary: SKIN needs a forth member, but Gackt still isn’t sure why they need anyone but him. Also, Crack!Fic
Video reference for this chapter:
Title:
“It’s just this little thing with me and Sugizo. Andmrapt,” Yoshiki mumbled.
“Doing rap?” Miyavi asked dubiously.
“Er…and Gackt,” Yoshiki clarified.
Miyavi’s brows rose in disbelief. “Gackt does rap?”
“Er. No. Look,” Yoshiki said, “there is no rap. We want you to play. And sing, sometimes…”
“You don’t so sure about the last,” Miyavi told him, arching a brow. Couldn’t say he blamed the guy. He sang for shit. “So you want me to be in a band with three legends? You guys are fucking stars.”
“Yeah, and so are you,” Sugizo said in a ‘duh’ tone of voice.
Miyavi relaxed in his seat. “Well, yeah.”
“We really want you to be a part of Skin,” Yoshiki told him
Miyavi wasn’t sure how to take all of this. “Have you guys even heard any of my stuff?”
Sugizo and Yoshiki exchanged bemused looks. “Yes…” Sugizo said slowly.
“Oh,” Miyavi muttered, puzzled. Then another thought occurred to him. He sucked long on his plastic cig. “Are you sure it was me?”
It wasn’t that Miyavi didn’t have the utmost pride and belief in his own talent and skill, but he’d never imagined some old school, hard-core visual band dudes to recognise it. He had been pretty sure they’d get him to the studio, jam for five minutes, and kick him out on his ass. One didn’t have to be a genius to see that his style didn’t quite mesh with that of, say, Gackt.
And what about Gackt, anyway? Miyavi was quite content with being a solo artist-in fact he prided himself on his ability to write and play all of his own stuff. But he did just as well with a group of musicians equal to the task. Gackt, however, was infamous for being impossible to work with, always clashing creatively with others. And Yoshiki was a total control freak in the studio, always having things his way. How the hell was that supposed to work?
But Yoshiki had seemed sincere, and later Sugizo had called him and they’d talked for over an hour about the project and somehow Miyavi found himself tentatively agreeing. He wasn’t putting anything in writing yet. He’d never even seen Gackt in person, and he didn’t have the slightest inkling how that first meeting would go…
Which was how he found himself at Yoshiki’s private studio the following day, ready for anything.
“So,” Gackt said, without preamble or introduction, sidling up to Miyavi as he walked in the door. Miyavi took it in stride, refusing to jump. He glanced at Gackt sidelong, taking in those familiar features that were just as perfect up close as they were in advertisements and videos. “What do you do?”
“Everything,” Miyavi answered smoothly.
Gackt kinda hated him. Sugizo was cool, he guessed. Regardless of what he’d done on the stage in the past, he was actually pretty laid back and he was good at what he did. And he was content to let Gackt have the limelight. After all, Sugizo was moving past his prime. He was still in excellent physical condition and he was still…attractive…but he didn’t still have that raw magnetism of Luna Sea’s early days.
Yoshiki was intense in a way Gackt totally got, and they two of them were a dynamic creative team. Sometimes Sugizo had to leave when they started fighting over something, but in the end, the piece was better for it. And Yoshiki had a delicate, ethereal beauty that was entirely ageless, but didn’t know very well how to sell that, and with his current hair, there was no way anyone would be looking his way over Gackt.
But Miyavi…whether he wanted to admit it or not, the kid was gorgeous, and he might as well admit it so he could deal with it. His face was so imperfect-one eye larger than the other, one side of his mouth fuller than the other, his nose bigger than suited his face, and he was practically covered in tattoos from head to toe. Yet somehow, he was all the more beautiful for it. The slope of his eyes, the arch of his brow, the way his piercings only enhanced the imperfections…and that smooth, flawless skin that should have only been possible in Photoshop interrupted by clean black lines of ink. And then he smiled and the world turned on its head because there was nothing like him when he was truly happy. Gackt had thought he’d known what beautiful looked like on a man when he’d met Hyde, but Miyavi was proving him wrong.
When Miyavi said he did everything, he just about meant it. The kid played like a pro, and looking at his older videos from his visual kei days, he had the raw talent and the know-how since his teens. It might have been embarrassing for an inferior musician, but Gackt was pretty sure he still owned the kid in skill.
Anything Miyavi could do, Gackt could do better.
Which was why he was waiting for Miyavi’s arrival avidly, having set up everything just right. Miyavi was ten minutes late. Gackt was punctual-ten minutes early every day, at least. Gackt had brought this tardiness up to Yoshiki who had given him an odd look and said something about no set schedule.
Miyavi strode in five minutes later dressed in torn jeans that hung so low that his boxers hung out, two hoodies in clashing neon colours over a white wife beater, and two baseball caps, both and different strange angles. His long ponytail looked like it hadn’t been brushed and he was wearing thick eyeliner and no other make up. Somehow, he made it look fabulous.
He stopped short at the two empty cardboard boxes on the floor in his path. He shot a look at Gackt, then back at the boxes. “Somebody movin’?”
“I don’t think you can actually fit in that box,” Gackt said, pointing at the larger of the two.
“I’m sorry, what?” Miyavi asked, in that chilly voice he had that said if there was a misunderstanding, it wasn’t his fault.
“I don’t think you can fit in that box. I think the one in your video had the bottom cut out and their was a hole in the ground, or you were on a platform,” Gackt told him matter-of-factly.
“Are you for real?” Miyavi asked, blinking at him.
“Quit stalling and get in the box,” Gackt snapped.
Miyavi edged backward toward the door. “I knew you couldn’t do it,” Gackt said triumphantly. Something like challenge sparked in Miyavi’s eyes. “I can fit in the smaller one.”
“Of course you can,” Miyavi said venomously. “You’re way shorter than I am.” And he stepped into the box, first with one foot, then the other, and tucked himself in it neatly. The smaller box. Gackt’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Suddenly, Miyavi’s face lit up with mischievous glee. “Hey, wanna see what else I can fit into?”