[fic] Home Sweet Home
Title: Home Sweet Home
Author/Artist: fencer_x
Warnings/Rating: PG
Notes: Both Tuti and Nagayan spent the last few days in Yamanashi--Tuti to visit home, and Nagayan to do some filming for a movie. In such close proximity and away from Tokyo, you know they had to make some time for themselves :P Gratuitous references to Nagayan's new haircut 8D
Tuti lay awake in his bed (well, in his pallet on the soft tatami floor of his room on the second story of his mother's house) for 20 minutes with his eyes shut to the morning light before finally rolling over to remind Takashi that it was 9 in the morning and the guy didn't have to be on location today or back in Tokyo until noon.
When he cracked an eye open lazily, though, he was a bit unsettled to find Takashi already staring at him, his newly shorn hair spiking up with the help of all the Gatsby the guy probably had streaked through it. "It's windy out," the man reasoned evenly before Tuti could even comment, pausing to turn back to the mirror and patting a few stray strands back into place. "Are you gonna come have breakfast downstairs before I leave?"
Tuti responded by rolling back over with a groan, pulling the small pillow out from under himself and burying his head beneath it, moaning his complaints into the tatami. "It's too early; no one else is even awake yet."
"Your mom was kind enough to make sure I didn't miss my alarm, thank you very much--"
"Fuck, my mom came in here?" Tuti shrilled, tossing the pillow away and scrambling into a sitting position as he frantically scanned the room to be sure nothing untoward--like his underwear, or Takashi's--had been haphazardly tossed aside the previous evening.
"It's her house, you know," Takashi reminded him evenly, reaching into his suitcase to rifle around for his socks. "Relax, she just knocked on the door."
"Geez, don't scare me like that. The last thing I need on my day off is a lecture from my mom on--" He paused in his ranting as Takashi plopped down on the floor to pull on a pair of ankle-length pink socks. "Those don't match your outfit, you know." The look Takashi gave him could have melted iron. "Hey, don't try to give me fashion tips if you can't take them, mister."
"Some day, Tuti, when you're older, you'll appreciate that sometimes things look good together because they don't match."
"On you, you mean."
"Exactly."
Tuti rolled his eyes and slumped forward, legs crossed and head propped up in one hand. "Why the hell're you leaving so early anyways? It's barely an hour back to Shinjuku."
"It's an hour and a half; and anyways, I wanna see Naoya and Eiki's show." He glanced over at Tuti's silent frown. "Stop pouting. If you're so put out about it why don't you come?"
"Cause I don't wanna go, genius. That's why I told Tsutsumi-san I was going to be too busy with performances to make it. I've only got a few days off, and I was hoping to spend them relaxing, not watching you run off first thing in the morning to parade around in front of fans."
"Whatever--stay here then. Spend time with your mom, and then I'll see you tonight. I can even text you when we head out for dinner and you can meet us then."
Tuti's frown deepened, if that was even possible. "I've gotta be at Haneda by 5, you know that. I've got a Hokkaido show tomorrow."
"Oh--damn, right. I forgot." Takashi regarded his suitcase, propped open on the floor and spilling its contents onto the matting. "When do you get back?"
Tuti stretched a hand behind his head, worrying the hairs at the base of his neck. "End of the month, I guess? We're in a different city every couple of days, so no time to come back to Tokyo."
"I should be done filming then--we'll make plans and do something. We haven't had much free time together lately anyways."
"...Yeah. Sure," Tuti agreed shortly, tossing away his blanket and wandering towards the small toilet connected to his room.
"Tuti..." Takashi began with a long-suffering sigh, but was quickly interrupted by a hesitant knock at the door. He frowned at the bathroom door shutting in his face, but instead stalked over to the entrance to the room. "Good morning, Yumiko-san."
"Ara, good morning, Takashi-kun. I didn't mean to disturb you, it's just there's a car out front..."
"That'll be my manager, Tamaoki-san. I'll be right down with my things."
Yumiko peeked over Takashi's shoulder inside, seeing the empty pallet. "What about Yuuichi? Aren't you going to have breakfast before you leave?"
"Ah--" He glanced back into the empty room, "--I think he's getting dressed. And I'm so sorry, Yumiko-san, but I really have to rush back to Tokyo; I have a show this afternoon that I've still got to prepare for." The woman nodded silently, face fallen. Good lord, was this guilt tripping thing genetic? He bit his lip. "But--perhaps if you could fix me something to go? It's hardly a short trip back, and I am a little hungry."
She perked back up. "What sort of mother do you take me for? You finish gathering your things and I'll throw a bentou together. I'll let Tamaoki-san know you're on your way down."
He nodded brightly and waited for her to shuffle back down the stairs before ducking back into the room. Giving his reflection one last glance-over in the mirror on the wall, he stuffed his night clothes into the small rolling suitcase, then dropped to his knees to zip it up. He heard the lock on the bathroom door unlatch, and glanced behind him to see Tuti wander back into the room, a pair of sweatpants and a wrinkled tanktop replacing the briefs he'd slept in. "Tamaoki-san's here," he alerted the man, turning his attention now back to his suitcase. He hated leaving on bad terms, but he was in a rush and really didn't have time to pander to Tuti's moods. It was hardly the first time they'd had one of these "conversations"; it kind of came with the territory of them both being actors and having equally hectic schedules. "Your mom's making me a bentou."
Tuti frowned, stopping his search through a pile of un-sorted clothes for a shirt. "She never makes me bentous anymore."
Pulling his suitcase upright, he yanked the handle up so he could drag it behind him. "She must like me better as a son."
Tuti snorted, rubbing his nose and leaning against the wall as he watched Takashi struggle with the handle. "Now that she knows you're a boy, maybe."
"Hey," the man snapped defensively, still fighting down a smile. "You're just mad 'cause I copied your hairstyle."
"I dunno; imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."
"Looks better on me." Tuti chuckled softly, not denying the claim, then reached forward and grabbed his wrist, tugging him closer until their chests touched. A voice in the back of Takashi's head said he didn't have time, and that Tamaoki-san was less inclined to be patient when he knew Tuti was involved, but he flipped it the mental bird when Tuti leaned in slowly, ducking his head down just enough that Takashi didn't have to stand on his tip-toes to reach.
A short knock, then, "I heated up some of the leftover houtou, and--oh! So sorry!"
At least they hadn't started getting to the good parts, Tuti reasoned. "Morning, Mom."
"Good morning, Yuuichi. I was just bringing Takashi-kun his bentou..."
Before Tuti could react, Takashi leaned up on his toes and gave the man a peck on his cheek, whispering, "Call me before you board the plane tonight," before quickly pulling back and dragging his suitcase out the door. "Thank you so much, Yumiko-san. For the food, and for the company."
She smiled and patted him softly on the cheek. "Anytime. Now you'd better run, your Tamaoki-san seems to be getting antsy."
"He doesn't like me," Tuti announced proudly, leaning on the doorjamb as Takashi meanuvered down the stairs. At his mother's disapproving glance, though, he added defensively, "He thinks I'm a bad influence!"
"You are," two voices returned in sync, and Tuti nearly choked at the indignation of it all.
"You tell him he's not allowed to eat any of that houtou!" he called after Takashi's retreating figure.
"Yuuichi," came his mother's reprimand, and he shrank back into his room. "You're not going to go see him off?"
"I just told him goodbye."
"I heard no 'goodbye'."
"I told him goodbye, Mom! He doesn't need me following him around like a puppy. Besides...Tamaoki-san doesn't like me, like I said."
Yumiko frowned, but pushed it no further. "Have you packed yet?"
"Huh?"
"Your bags--isn't your flight this afternoon?"
"I just woke up--no I haven't packed. I don't have to be at Haneda until 5; it's no big deal."
She pursed her lips. "Well do you need me to wash anything before you head back? I'm about to put on a load of darks; I can throw something in if you need, it'll be dry in a few hours--"
"I'm fine, Mom." He turned back into the room, scanning around for his jeans. "I'll be down in a few; I'm gonna take a shower."
There was a pause, and he hoped that meant she'd started back down the stairs, but instead he heard, "I'm glad you two came over; it was nice to spend some time together--"
"Mooooom..." Tuti complained, slapping his face and rubbing. He was thirty years old; how was it she could still make him feel half that age?
"His hair looked nice; I'd have taken a bit more off the back, myself, but--"
"His hair looks stupid."
"It looks like yours." She smiled when this seemed to stop him, then turned back to head downstairs. "Leave the sheets out, I'll wash them later."
Tuti hated coming home. There were too many people who knew just what buttons of his to push.
Author/Artist: fencer_x
Warnings/Rating: PG
Notes: Both Tuti and Nagayan spent the last few days in Yamanashi--Tuti to visit home, and Nagayan to do some filming for a movie. In such close proximity and away from Tokyo, you know they had to make some time for themselves :P Gratuitous references to Nagayan's new haircut 8D
Tuti lay awake in his bed (well, in his pallet on the soft tatami floor of his room on the second story of his mother's house) for 20 minutes with his eyes shut to the morning light before finally rolling over to remind Takashi that it was 9 in the morning and the guy didn't have to be on location today or back in Tokyo until noon.
When he cracked an eye open lazily, though, he was a bit unsettled to find Takashi already staring at him, his newly shorn hair spiking up with the help of all the Gatsby the guy probably had streaked through it. "It's windy out," the man reasoned evenly before Tuti could even comment, pausing to turn back to the mirror and patting a few stray strands back into place. "Are you gonna come have breakfast downstairs before I leave?"
Tuti responded by rolling back over with a groan, pulling the small pillow out from under himself and burying his head beneath it, moaning his complaints into the tatami. "It's too early; no one else is even awake yet."
"Your mom was kind enough to make sure I didn't miss my alarm, thank you very much--"
"Fuck, my mom came in here?" Tuti shrilled, tossing the pillow away and scrambling into a sitting position as he frantically scanned the room to be sure nothing untoward--like his underwear, or Takashi's--had been haphazardly tossed aside the previous evening.
"It's her house, you know," Takashi reminded him evenly, reaching into his suitcase to rifle around for his socks. "Relax, she just knocked on the door."
"Geez, don't scare me like that. The last thing I need on my day off is a lecture from my mom on--" He paused in his ranting as Takashi plopped down on the floor to pull on a pair of ankle-length pink socks. "Those don't match your outfit, you know." The look Takashi gave him could have melted iron. "Hey, don't try to give me fashion tips if you can't take them, mister."
"Some day, Tuti, when you're older, you'll appreciate that sometimes things look good together because they don't match."
"On you, you mean."
"Exactly."
Tuti rolled his eyes and slumped forward, legs crossed and head propped up in one hand. "Why the hell're you leaving so early anyways? It's barely an hour back to Shinjuku."
"It's an hour and a half; and anyways, I wanna see Naoya and Eiki's show." He glanced over at Tuti's silent frown. "Stop pouting. If you're so put out about it why don't you come?"
"Cause I don't wanna go, genius. That's why I told Tsutsumi-san I was going to be too busy with performances to make it. I've only got a few days off, and I was hoping to spend them relaxing, not watching you run off first thing in the morning to parade around in front of fans."
"Whatever--stay here then. Spend time with your mom, and then I'll see you tonight. I can even text you when we head out for dinner and you can meet us then."
Tuti's frown deepened, if that was even possible. "I've gotta be at Haneda by 5, you know that. I've got a Hokkaido show tomorrow."
"Oh--damn, right. I forgot." Takashi regarded his suitcase, propped open on the floor and spilling its contents onto the matting. "When do you get back?"
Tuti stretched a hand behind his head, worrying the hairs at the base of his neck. "End of the month, I guess? We're in a different city every couple of days, so no time to come back to Tokyo."
"I should be done filming then--we'll make plans and do something. We haven't had much free time together lately anyways."
"...Yeah. Sure," Tuti agreed shortly, tossing away his blanket and wandering towards the small toilet connected to his room.
"Tuti..." Takashi began with a long-suffering sigh, but was quickly interrupted by a hesitant knock at the door. He frowned at the bathroom door shutting in his face, but instead stalked over to the entrance to the room. "Good morning, Yumiko-san."
"Ara, good morning, Takashi-kun. I didn't mean to disturb you, it's just there's a car out front..."
"That'll be my manager, Tamaoki-san. I'll be right down with my things."
Yumiko peeked over Takashi's shoulder inside, seeing the empty pallet. "What about Yuuichi? Aren't you going to have breakfast before you leave?"
"Ah--" He glanced back into the empty room, "--I think he's getting dressed. And I'm so sorry, Yumiko-san, but I really have to rush back to Tokyo; I have a show this afternoon that I've still got to prepare for." The woman nodded silently, face fallen. Good lord, was this guilt tripping thing genetic? He bit his lip. "But--perhaps if you could fix me something to go? It's hardly a short trip back, and I am a little hungry."
She perked back up. "What sort of mother do you take me for? You finish gathering your things and I'll throw a bentou together. I'll let Tamaoki-san know you're on your way down."
He nodded brightly and waited for her to shuffle back down the stairs before ducking back into the room. Giving his reflection one last glance-over in the mirror on the wall, he stuffed his night clothes into the small rolling suitcase, then dropped to his knees to zip it up. He heard the lock on the bathroom door unlatch, and glanced behind him to see Tuti wander back into the room, a pair of sweatpants and a wrinkled tanktop replacing the briefs he'd slept in. "Tamaoki-san's here," he alerted the man, turning his attention now back to his suitcase. He hated leaving on bad terms, but he was in a rush and really didn't have time to pander to Tuti's moods. It was hardly the first time they'd had one of these "conversations"; it kind of came with the territory of them both being actors and having equally hectic schedules. "Your mom's making me a bentou."
Tuti frowned, stopping his search through a pile of un-sorted clothes for a shirt. "She never makes me bentous anymore."
Pulling his suitcase upright, he yanked the handle up so he could drag it behind him. "She must like me better as a son."
Tuti snorted, rubbing his nose and leaning against the wall as he watched Takashi struggle with the handle. "Now that she knows you're a boy, maybe."
"Hey," the man snapped defensively, still fighting down a smile. "You're just mad 'cause I copied your hairstyle."
"I dunno; imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."
"Looks better on me." Tuti chuckled softly, not denying the claim, then reached forward and grabbed his wrist, tugging him closer until their chests touched. A voice in the back of Takashi's head said he didn't have time, and that Tamaoki-san was less inclined to be patient when he knew Tuti was involved, but he flipped it the mental bird when Tuti leaned in slowly, ducking his head down just enough that Takashi didn't have to stand on his tip-toes to reach.
A short knock, then, "I heated up some of the leftover houtou, and--oh! So sorry!"
At least they hadn't started getting to the good parts, Tuti reasoned. "Morning, Mom."
"Good morning, Yuuichi. I was just bringing Takashi-kun his bentou..."
Before Tuti could react, Takashi leaned up on his toes and gave the man a peck on his cheek, whispering, "Call me before you board the plane tonight," before quickly pulling back and dragging his suitcase out the door. "Thank you so much, Yumiko-san. For the food, and for the company."
She smiled and patted him softly on the cheek. "Anytime. Now you'd better run, your Tamaoki-san seems to be getting antsy."
"He doesn't like me," Tuti announced proudly, leaning on the doorjamb as Takashi meanuvered down the stairs. At his mother's disapproving glance, though, he added defensively, "He thinks I'm a bad influence!"
"You are," two voices returned in sync, and Tuti nearly choked at the indignation of it all.
"You tell him he's not allowed to eat any of that houtou!" he called after Takashi's retreating figure.
"Yuuichi," came his mother's reprimand, and he shrank back into his room. "You're not going to go see him off?"
"I just told him goodbye."
"I heard no 'goodbye'."
"I told him goodbye, Mom! He doesn't need me following him around like a puppy. Besides...Tamaoki-san doesn't like me, like I said."
Yumiko frowned, but pushed it no further. "Have you packed yet?"
"Huh?"
"Your bags--isn't your flight this afternoon?"
"I just woke up--no I haven't packed. I don't have to be at Haneda until 5; it's no big deal."
She pursed her lips. "Well do you need me to wash anything before you head back? I'm about to put on a load of darks; I can throw something in if you need, it'll be dry in a few hours--"
"I'm fine, Mom." He turned back into the room, scanning around for his jeans. "I'll be down in a few; I'm gonna take a shower."
There was a pause, and he hoped that meant she'd started back down the stairs, but instead he heard, "I'm glad you two came over; it was nice to spend some time together--"
"Mooooom..." Tuti complained, slapping his face and rubbing. He was thirty years old; how was it she could still make him feel half that age?
"His hair looked nice; I'd have taken a bit more off the back, myself, but--"
"His hair looks stupid."
"It looks like yours." She smiled when this seemed to stop him, then turned back to head downstairs. "Leave the sheets out, I'll wash them later."
Tuti hated coming home. There were too many people who knew just what buttons of his to push.