[023] La La La Boomerang Show
Title: La La La Boomerang Show
Characters/Groups: TOKIO & Arashi + assorted JE cameos
Genre: Gen, attempted humor
Rating/Warnings: PG; swearing and workplace mischief
Word Count: 7000
Notes: Written for vintage_belle for je_justfriends. Originally posted here Many thanks to miquilis for letting me bounce ideas off of her, lyricalidol for giving me incentives to finish and katmillia for betaing the crap out of this. ♥ The title makes no sense. It's the title of a K-pop mashup by masa. XD;
•••••
It was a slow day in July when it all started. Nino took his customary 10:30 a.m. coffee break from the bowels of the SMAP, INC. building's IT department up to Aiba's somewhat cluttered desk in marketing. The recession hit everyone hard, but most especially Marketing, leaving Aiba Masaki, brilliant advertiser with the highest sales rate in the prefecture, with little to do most days but come up with exceptionally stupid things to keep himself busy.
Occasionally, though, he had a stroke of brilliance.
Nino plopped himself in the chair next to Aiba's area with a slight oof, nodding in silent hello, not even sure he wanted to know why Aiba was hunched over his workspace with a bottle of Crazy Glue, about 20 pens, and what Nino assumed were the matching pen caps. It only took about three minutes of waiting for Nino to finally give in to his curiosity, leaning across the desk and picking up one of the pens.
"Aiba-chan," he started, picking up one of the 'completed' pens. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Gluing all of Taichi from Purchasing's pen caps to his pens," Aiba answered lightly, not looking up from his project.
Nino tossed the pen back on the desk and leaned back to adjust his tie, wondering for the upteenth time that day why he was required to wear one when he was permanently relegated to Hades. "Oh, yes, of course. That makes perfect sense," he replied with a shrug. "How did I not think of it myself?"
Aiba blew the hair out of his eyes and kept gluing, steadfastly ignoring his friend as they sat in silence.
"I didn't start it," he mumbled to no one in particular, tossing another completed pen on the stack and trying to unstick his fingers from each other.
--
To be perfectly honest, Nagase Tomoya, Warehouse Manager at SI, had started the whole mess. Aiba had only been kidding (kind of) when he imparted the 'Naga-nii' nickname upon his superior. It was meant to be a loving gesture! Something worthy of his standing as honorary big brother to all kouhai in the building. Honest! But after the fourth, fifth and eightieth time of being told (yelled at, rather) not to call Nagase-san that (by Nagase-san), and scurrying away, heaving that breathy giggle, Nagase suspected Aiba would forever call him by the stupid nickname.
Clearly, this meant payback.
Nagase settled himself in Aiba's squeaky office chair and glanced around the cluttered cubicle, grinning a bit evilly.
"What exactly do you intend to do, Tomoya?" Taichi asked from his spot as lookout. Truth be told, he wasn't doing a very good job, having already been asked himself by three or four people (including that weird kid from graphic design who's name he could never remember - not that it mattered, as he wandered off half a second after asking anyway) what they were doing in Aiba-san's cube.
"I haven't really decided yet," Nagase replied, spinning fast circles in Aiba's chair. "Hey, can I get one of these spinny chairs? My chair swivels, but doesn't got all the way around and I am the warehouse manager, you know. I should get a spinny chair and oh god I'm gonna throw up." Taichi rolled his eyes and pushed Aiba's trashcan a few centimeters closer to Nagase's stilled form, hunched over the desk, face on the cool wood surface. "OH!" Nagase exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. "I've got it."
Pulling a piece of clear plastic tape from the handily-placed roll, Nagase applied it with great care to the earpiece of Aiba's phone. "Okay, here!" he said, popping out of the chair and shuttling Taichi over to the receiver. "Listen!"
Taichi picked up the phone and held it to his ear. The faint buzz of a dial tone was fuzzier than usual and about twelve degrees softer. "And here I thought subtlety wasn't your thing," Taichi praised, placing the receiver back in its cradle and hustling Nagase out before either of them was noticed again.
They took turns over the next two days to call Aiba's phone and make suggestive comments about his mother into the phone, laughing like idiots every time Aiba replied back with "WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU. SPEAK UP PLEASE? I THINK THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY PHONE."
--
It was the end of day two that Taichi realized they were busted. Nagase had made a poorly executed suggestion regarding his beef and Aiba-momma's broccoli ("What? They run a Chinese restaurant!") when Aiba's "OI!" came through loud and clear. Slamming down the phone, Nagase and Taichi could only stare at each other for a moment. Their laughter could be heard in the conference room on the top floor.
It wasn't until two weeks later, when Taichi was hurriedly attempting to sign invoices, that the true revenge was discovered. Tugging on pen cap after pen cap, Taichi could feel his face quickly turning red with exertion and frustration. "What the...." he muttered, pulling out a new box of pens and trying to pry off the caps of those to no avail. Taichi couldn't understand - it was a brand new box. He only ever used the same brand of pens - black, fine point, and only sold in one store in the area.
"Oh hey, Tai-chan," Aiba drawled, leaning against the door frame to Taichi's office, dripping with forced nonchalance. Taichi's head shot up from his quest, eyebrows narrowing at the sight of his colleague. The little shit twirled a pen - black, fine point, and only sold in one store in the area - between his long fingers. "Having problems?" The hyena-like laugh lingered in Taichi's ears long after he'd sauntered away, leaving Taichi feeling a little shell-shocked (and a great deal more pissed off) in his wake.
"Tomoya," Taichi growled, half-covering the phone with one hand and darting his eyes about suspiciously. "I think we may have a war on our hands."
--
SMAP, INC. was first incorporated in early 1991 as nothing more than five friends with a dream. It only took three years for the fledgling paper company to become the highest grossing business of its kind in Japan. Less than ten years after inception, the company was known worldwide as catering to the paper needs of everything from small Mom & Pop businesses to large corporations. CEO and President Nakai Masahiro had what Aiba liked to refer to as a small man's syndrome: the Napoleon complex, if you will. Suppressing giggles every time Nakai stalked through the halls in his suit and rather jaunty hat, Aiba dropped whispered jokes to whoever would listen. Nino was that one day, Aiba would be busted, and then there would be hell to pay. Until that day, he laughed behind his hand - very un-subtly, of course. Nakai could often be found with the other four members of the board trailing behind him - Kimura, his second in command and head of sales was possibly the most fabulous specimen of man alive - and he knew it; Shingo, who insisted everyone just call him "Shingo", was apparently the head of accounting and purchasing (though Nino had yet to see him ever near the accounting floor); Goro, lead designer, was one of those quiet, kind of creepy guys - not unlike his employees (namely that one moon-faced dude Aiba liked to hang out with); Kusanagi had once started stripping at the company Christmas party and was forever dubbed "The Naked Guy" by Aiba. Nino wasn't sure what exactly he was in charge of.
It was somewhere between Aiba's third "lolshorty" IM and the fifth "how big do you think his...." e-mail that Nakai stormed into the IT office alone, eyes blazing as if he were itching for a fight. As usual.
"Matsuoka!" he barked, striding up to the IT manager like an angry little dog taking on a Rottweiler. Matsuoka Masahiro (no relation, thank GOD), stood his ground, pulling himself up to his full height - a full 17 centimeters taller than his technical superior and looked down upon him.
"Yes.....sir?" Matsuoka asked, thin veil of respect slipping oh-so-slightly. Known more commonly to employees and friends alike, Mabo was an incredibly easy going, laid back and all around cool kind of guy - things Nakai absolutely despised in someone in a position of power, however feeble the IT manager power may be (considering his only employee was Nino, who had taken to calling him "Matsu-nii" after the first thirty seconds on the job three years prior).
"Why do we not have full access to Powerpoint in the main conference room? And where is my 17 inch flat screen LCD? I thought that was to come in last week!" Nakai paced around the small dark room, eyes darting here and there, taking in every detail - from the security screens displaying every camera in the building (all 12), to the bank of computers, to Nino slowly shuffling a pack of cards, feet up on the desk. "And what is the meaning of this?" Nakai sputtered, waving a hand in Nino's general direction.
"I believe Ninomiya is practicing his latest tricks, sir," Mabo replied, face a mask of seriousness. It was moments like those that Nino really and truly loved his supervisor, he thought as the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
Nakai paused in his pacing, face frozen in anger, looking not entirely sure how to handle the situation. Nino's mouth quirked again at the indecision. Nakai was a powerful man - certainly not one to be tangled with - and Nino knew it. The man signed his paychecks (actually, someone in accounting named Morita did that, but Nino wasn't one for trivial details as long as he got his check). Sliding his feet down slowly, Nino stood and bowed in apology.
"I'm on my break, sir," Nino said, hiding his smile with his bow. "It won't happen again."
"Damn right it won't," Nakai replied, glowering still. "Matsuoka! Powerpoint. I need it in less than an hour. ONE HOUR, MATSUOKA." Stomping off, Nakai slammed the heavy glass door, not giving them a backward glance.
Mabo stalked across the room in three long strides, whopping Nino across the back of his head. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath.
"OI," Nino called, rubbing his head and trying to frown at Mabo's back as he left the room. "You're the one who wanted to see my new trick!"
Nino smiled as the door rattled behind Mabo, who was hopefully on his way to fix the Powerpoint situation. There were times he really enjoyed his job, he thought.
--
"And how long have you worked here, Aiba-san?" Matsumoto asked, pushing up his glasses a bit and making a small notation on his clipboard. The recession was apparently hitting harder than Aiba realized. Matsumoto, with his perfectly coifed hair (and Aiba was sure he was wearing mascara), was some lackey from accounting. He'd been sent around to each cubicle to drill employees on their status with the company, how necessary they felt their own job was and if they thought the company was doing well. Despite appearances, and his somewhat airheaded reputation, Aiba wasn't stupid. He knew what Matsumoto was here for, and it scared him. A lot.
"About three years?" Aiba began. "I started around the same time as Nino, you know Nino? He works down in IT. Funny little guy. He's kind of weird, but he's definitely my best friend. Though Ohno's probably one of my best friends, too. Ohno's down in graphic design and the guy is seriously talented. I wish I could be that talented, but all I'm really good at is talking and coming up with good slogans. And experiments, but there's not really any time for experiments here. But one time I did try to get Nino to wear a paper tie I made; I mean, it looked like real silk because we have some really excellent printers here and you could almost not tell until you touched it, but Nino was all 'I'm a professional' even though all he does is play card games all day with Matsu-nii, but sometimes they get busy, like when the computers are down or something, you know, 'cause they're in IT." He rambled on and on for another thirty seconds, jumping from subject to subject without any segue Matsumoto could detect.
Sakurai, Matsumoto's office mate and all around good guy, just stared as Aiba's face turned red from lack of oxygen. "Breathe," he said, a bit awed. "Um, Jun," Sakurai started, placing a hand on Matsumoto's (Jun, apparently) shoulder and looking down. "Are we about done here? I'm sure Aiba-san would like to get back to work." Sakurai looked up and beamed and Aiba could hardly contain his own grin.
"It's just Aiba," he replied. "Aiba-chan, if you're feeling frisky enough to add a title, but none of that '-san' business. That makes me feel like my father." Aiba made a face at the thought. "I'm sorry I talked so much," he continued, cheeks pinking a bit in embarrassment. "It's kind of nerve-wracking when the guys from accounting are in my cube asking me if I'm needed in the company or not." Aiba looked away, hoping and praying they'd take pity on him. He held back the desire to turn his puppy eyes on them - he was sure Sakurai ("Sho," he'd insisted) would crack under the pressure, but that Matsumoto had a face of stone. A pretty face of stone, to be sure, but granite, nonetheless.
"It's quite alright, Aiba-san," Jun replied, standing and stretching his arm to shake Aiba's hand once. "Thank you for your time."
There was a dinging e-mail from Aiba's computer. "Not a problem," he mumbled slightly, turning in his chair to open the mail. A video? he thought, puzzled. Aiba opened the file, not even paying attention to the two men still standing at the entrance of his cube, arguing silently behind him.
Jun turned to walk out of the cubicle, Sho following along, before he remembered Aiba still had to sign the questionnaire. "One more thing, Aiba-san. I just need you to-"
"OH GOD, OH GOD YES. JUST LIKE THAT. YES YES YES." All three jumped in surprise, eyes glued to the woman on Aiba's computer screen being furiously banged from behind by no less than two men (or at least Aiba thought they were men, turning his head slightly), voice carrying through the entire department at top volume.
"SHIT SHIT SHIT." Aiba scrambled to find the volume knob on his speakers, hurriedly turning them down. He wondered vaguely why he ever would have turned them all the way up, anyway. "FUCK," he cursed loudly, closing the video and laying his head on the desk.
Jun and Sho glanced at each other, eyes wide with a combination of shock and scandal. "I think we have all we need, Aiba-san," Jun said, patting him once on the shoulder and walking away quickly, Sho trailing behind him, throwing sympathetic glances in Aiba's direction.
"Fuck," Aiba whimpered softly into his arm, vowing revenge (again) on Taichi and Nagase. Who else would be so completely unoriginal?
--
"You gonna eat that, Masaki?"
Aiba shoved his bento across the table with one hand, still staring out at the courtyard, pondering his perhaps no longer existent future. Ohno Satoshi quickly worked his way through Aiba's lunch, murmuring a quiet "delicious!" between bites and hardly looking up at his friend. Aiba liked Ohno a lot. He was quiet, diligent in his work, an amazing designer, and, despite appearances, rarely missed anything that happened around him.
"Still worried about the porn?" Ohno asked, mouth full of rice and pickled eel. Aiba was sure Ohno could read his thoughts without even opening his mouth. For the sake of conversation, however, Aiba felt it pertinent to respond.
"Yeah," he sighed. "I can't believe they'd sink that low. I mean, I guess it's not their fault Jun and Sho just happened to be doing a 'do we really need this doof' inspection at the very moment I got the e-mail," Aiba started, reaching over to pick out an onigiri with one hand. He chomped on it for a moment. "And I guess I shouldn't have opened it without reading first. Or adjusting my volume." Aiba continued staring out into the lush mini-park. SI had spared no expense in treating its employees to luxuries. The grounds were rich with color - bright, vibrant flowering bushes lining the circling walkways around the center slab of concrete. Ten stone tables with matching benches dotted the middle portion of the courtyard, just far enough apart to let their occupants enjoy some modicum of privacy, but close enough together to feel comfortable and cozy. It was one of Aiba's very favorite places in the world.
"Maybe you should do something even better in retaliation," Ohno suggested with a shrug, bits of rice clinging to his chin and the fuzz that had started growing there. Aiba found it almost endearing how the man (now nearing 30, he was sure) attempted to look his age. And how he failed so spectacularly.
"What do you mean 'better'?" Aiba asked dejectedly. "Like Photoshopping Taichi's head on some gravure models' bodies?" Aiba reached out to grab another onigiri and paused, looking up at Ohno's smirking face with matching grin of his own.
"I can have them to you by next week."
--
Nagase loved being warehouse manager. The job suited him perfectly - he got to wear jeans every day, boss around idiots, and occasionally hide in his air-conditioned office pretending to work on paperwork. It was a pretty sweet gig and he couldn't be more grateful that the previous warehouse manager had kicked the bucket only two weeks after Nagase's first day on the job, catapulting him into the opening. Sure, it got frustrating as hell when one of the guys called in, or needed a day off, or when they undermined his authority, but Nagase prided himself on having a good team under him. They worked well together and Nagase considered them the heart and soul of SI's operations (and he wasn't biased at all).
Not that he would ever say it, but Nagase kind of loved his little band of merry men. Even if that Akanishi kid had a smart mouth on him, he had even quicker reflexes, packing and loading boxes as a higher rate than any of the other Horsemen of the Boozepocalypse (a group name bestowed upon themselves at the last company picnic when Shirota had gotten fabulously drunk and piggy-backed Ryo while being chased by Mackey and that weird dude with the eyes they all called Yamapi).
Nagase had seen a lot of workers come and go, but these guys were the first ones he knew he could count on to leave him the eff alone as he pushed papers in his office. As long as the work got done, Nagase was more than willing to turn a blind eye to whatever shenanigans took place (and participated in the Paper Airplane Tourney of 2009, himself. He won second place, though Mackey's plane had an impressive wingspan and double rudders - a feat in and of itself for an airplane made of one standard sheet of copy paper).
It was after a rousing game of paper-basketball that Nagase discovered the next stage in the battle. Akanishi followed him in the office, yammering on about Nagase's lack of "game" and how hard it must be to be over 30 and taking on guys ten years his junior.
"Shut up and get back to work, Akanishi," Nagase said, though his tone lacked any real venom. He liked the kid, and Akanishi was pretty quiet most of the time, but once he got all high-tension, you couldn't get him to shut up - one of the less-attractive qualities in a worker bee. "Seriously," he said, turning and drawing himself up to his full height. "Get the fuck out of my office."
"Calm down, Naga-nii, jeez," Akanishi replied, hands up in deferrment. "I just wanted to borrow a pen real quick." Jin darted around Nagase quickly, proving his paper-basketball skills weren't just limited to the court and grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on in the pen cup.
"I told you not to call me tha- what the eff is that?" Nagase asked, pointing at Akanishi's hand, clasped lightly around a bright purple crayon.
"It....appears to be a crayon, sir," Akanishi said, trying to suppress his giggles.
"I know it's a fucking crayon, you idiot. What the hell is it doing in my pen cup?" Nagase stalked over to the desk, face darkening with every step. Tipping over the pen cup, 15 more crayons of varying colors spilled out, covering his desk and a note.
Akanishi got to it before Nagase could even react. "Something more your speed," he read slowly. Their eyes met across the short distance and Akanishi lost it. "MORE YOUR SPEED!" Guffawing, Akanishi dropped the note and fled the office before bodily harm could come to him, hee-hawing to the other guys - "a thousand yen to whoever switched out the pens for crayons!"
Nagase flipped over the paper to find another note. 'This is for the porn, you douche. More to come. That's what she said.'
"Ooooh, Aiba-chan," Nagase breathed, smile crossing his face as he ignored the whoops and amused calls from the warehouse. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."
--
"Joshima and Yamaguchi from research and development are supposed to come up in a few to talk about where else we can cut corners." Jun frowned down at his clipboard, notations scattered throughout. He was trying to detail who was expendable, and what departments were the least needed in the company. Accounting was under a lot of pressure with the economy failing so hard, and Jun felt the weight from above to clip costs as much as possible. He hated the idea of people losing their jobs, especially in times like these, but he had to do what was necessary to keep his job. Jun was just glad he had Sho on his side to keep him human and remind him of things like "humanity" and "compassion" and other five dollar words the guy liked to throw around.
Jun liked Sho well enough. He was a hard worker, fairly quiet, laughed at Jun's dry jokes. Somewhere along the line he'd mentioned a degree from Keio, blush coloring his cheeks in a mixture of pride and embarrassment. Jun kind of suspected Sho liked talking about his accomplishments and he could hardly blame the man - Keio was a hard school. Jun himself had a degree from Meiji, but no desire to flaunt it. He preferred to be recognized for his accomplishments on the job, not where he'd gone to school. Education was irrelevant if you were an idiot at the core.
"R&D is involved now?" Sho asked, eyebrows drawing together. He leaned against the doorframe of his office, looking to all the world like he was as relaxed as a Sunday afternoon. "I don't mean to be cold, but couldn't we cut R&D before, you know, accounting?"
Jun sighed slightly. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too. But you know how it is. They have to have some kind of checks and balances system. Or so says the boss."
"Afraid of losing your job, Matsumoto?"
Jun froze, turning slightly and tried not to flinch. "Joshima-san. Yamaguchi-san. Lovely to see you again," he said, plastering on what he hoped was a sincere smile and reaching out to shake their hands.
"Hm," Yamaguchi replied, face stony as usual. Joshima looked lost and a little confused. Jun always wondered how exactly they'd been paired up, but apparently they worked well together. In the last ten years, the pair had developed a line of recycled paper more efficient than any other company on the market - Nakai was more than a little in love with them for it. Gussan, as Yamaguchi was called around the office, and Joshima were Nakai's golden boys. It was no secret that Jun wanted that title for himself. And maybe Sho, too.
"Yes, well," Jun started, trying not to fidget. Now was not the time to show weakness. Stand strong, he told himself. Be a man. "Shall we go to my office?"
Jun ushered the pair the short distance to his sparsely decorated office. Where Sho liked knicknacks and letters of glowing pride from previous employers to decorate his walls, Jun preferred the quiet simplicity of the wood paneling. His office wasn't large, by any means, nor ostentatious, like Kimura's top-floor corner with its three walls of windows (and almost no work done in it, besides the "work" he was rumored to do with his ever-changing line of secretaries), but Jun couldn't help but love it. It was warm, comfortable, and above all - his. Jun would do what was necessary to keep it.
"Now gentlemen, if you would just have a seat," Jun gestured to the chairs in front of his desk - utilitarian, but comfortable, like the rest of his office. Feeling a bit high and mighty, Jun walked to his leather chair (a splurge he'd convinced Morita to sign off on last year) and started to sit. "So, we were talking abouuAAAAAHHH!"
It was the first time Jun had properly looked at his ceiling. Tomorrow, he'd get maintenance in to clean. As it were, there was pain radiating from somewhere in his midsection up through his back. "Ow," he whispered, trying to roll off what was once his chair.
"What the hell?!" the other three yelled, jumping up together as Jun went down.
Sho hurried to Jun's side, helping him up off the floor with care. "Are you okay?" he asked, eyes wide with concern.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, looking down at the mess. Jun bent and picked up a screw. "Did....did someone unscrew my chair?" His voice tinged with a combination of horror, anger, and just the very, very slightest bit of amusement. "Someone unscrewed my fucking chair." Jun and Sho gaped at each other for a long moment. Muffled laughter drifted over them from across the desk.
Jun glanced over to find the head developers of SI hunched over each other, shaking with laughter. His eyes narrowed. "I think this meeting is over, gentlemen."
--
Nino looked around the room a bit with suspicion. The other occupants he'd seen around here and there - Ohno, the guy Aiba always ate lunch with, and Sakurai and Matsumoto, who'd drilled him for almost half an hour last week on whether or not he felt his job was necessary (they apparently didn't like his answer of "I do magic tricks for 7 and a half hours a day and reset passwords for the other 30 minutes"). Truth be told, Nino was worried. He knew things were looking grim at SI, that Nakai had issued an edict to cut costs wherever they could. He had hoped being in IT was a necessary position.
He was starting to wonder if he was wrong.
"Gentlemen," Aiba started, voice pulling Nino from his worries. "I asked you all here today under cover of secrecy for a very important mission."
"Aiba-chan, we're in my office, it's lunchtime, and like four people popped in to say 'hi.' This is hardly secret," Sho said. Nino still hadn't decided if he liked that guy or not.
"Irrelevant!" Aiba shouted, slamming one hand down on Sho's desk.
Nino leaned against the bookcase near the door and grinned. He kind of loved when Aiba got all worked up like this. It meant the fun was going to start soon.
"As you know," Aiba began again, steepling his long fingers. "There have been several attempts at pranking in the last few weeks by various members of the SI staff."
Jun looked ready to protest, but Sho's hand on his arm and the slight shake of his head made Jun snap his mouth closed. He coughed slightly, wincing as he settled back against the chair. It seemed the fall to the floor had bruised him in a rather uncomfortable place.
"I propose we join forces," Aiba continued, pulling out a sheet of paper with a myriad of haphazard drawings upon it. The other four leaned in slightly. "Until now, we've been operating independently. Well, Nino and I have. Well, I have and Nino laughs." Aiba paused for effect before barrelling on. "What I propose is a meeting of the minds. Brainstorming, if you will. Forget the recession. Forget the fact that we might all be unemployed tomorrow. Our pride is on the line!" Aiba stood, slamming his fist down on the table. "Are you with me?" he said loudly.
"YEAH!" Ohno shouted, throwing a fist in the air. The others turned slowly to look at him. "Wait....was that not right?" he asked sheepishly, arm still raised above his head.
"No, Oh-chan! That's exactly what we need! Enthusiasm! LET'S DO THIS THING!" Aiba fist-bumped Ohno, almost knocking the small man over with the force.
"Oh, what the hell," Nino said, striding over and holding out his fist to be bumped, smile crossing his face once again. "I'm in."
"Me too!" Jun exclaimed. "My ass still hurts." Jun rubbed his backside softly, trying to hold in a pained whimper.
"Sho, what about you?" Aiba asked, turning to the last of their little group.
Sho whipped his head around, diverting his eyes from Jun's hand still moving across the seat of his pants. Coughing once, Sho nodded. "Yeah, sure. I'm in. Just....nothing to get us fired, please." Sho looked decidedly nervous at the prospect of being unemployed.
"I make no promises," Aiba said, lips curving into an evil smile Nino couldn't help but be proud of. "I make. No. Promises."
--
The following weeks brought an all-out battle to the offices of SMAP, Inc.
Still stinging (literally and figuratively) from his fall, Jun vowed revenge on those who wronged him. Aiba was quick to place the blame on the original pranksters, Nagase and Taichi, but they hadn't been the ones nearly crying with laughter as Jun writhed on the floor. Implementing his new-found friendship with Nino, IT tech and pretty decent human being (for the right price), Jun exacted his cleverly-thought-out revenge. It had taken Gussan almost ten minutes to get Joshima breathing properly again after he discovered every file on his hard drive had been wiped from memory. And another thirty for the pair to follow the poorly drawn "treasure map" (Sho was not in charge of future drawing projects, it was unanimously decided) leading to the trash compactor in the basement where the memory stick containing all his research had been hidden. Two hours later, they slogged to the employee bathroom, covered in slop, memory stick in hand (whoever had decided on soup and sandwiches day, and then tossed it all away in the same bin, was on Gussan's shit list for the next month).
It was almost a week later that Ohno realized his office chair (smooth, comfy) had been replaced with one of the benches from the courtyard. Mabo had waddled around for days after being recruited by the R&D boys to help carry it up the stairs. (They'd made it to the third floor before anyone thought to use the elevator.) He'd liked that chair. It had taken almost two solid years for it to finally fit the curve of his butt just right.
The pictures of Taichi with boobs showed up in every elevator in the building the following day. And on the tables in the lunchroom. And a couple plastered to the walls of the men's bathrooms.
Taichi called a group meeting of his own, using his extensive collection of spies throughout the building to get the word out without the opposing faction catching wind. It was well after hours that they all gathered in his office, staring at the myriad of toys adorning every horizontal surface.
"You are an adult, right, Tai-chan?" Nagase asked, picking up one of the spinner toys and giving it a good twirl.
"You're one to talk, Naga-nii," Taichi sneered back.
"Guys, please. Why are we here?" Gussan leaned against Taichi's desk, taking in the group before him. Nagase and Mabo stood side-by-side, sizing each other up, both trying to stand taller than the other. Joshima, as usual, looked a little lost, hovering close to Gussan's side and toying with the hem of his untucked shirt.
Taichi rounded the desk and picked up a sheet of paper. "I have the ultimate prank. The final showdown. The nail in the child-sized coffin of those brats that've been toying with us."
Gussan waved a hand impatiently. "Point?"
"This," Taichi said, turning the paper. "We can only get it online, and I'm pretty sure it's mildly illegal, but placed properly and timed well, I think it might be the solution to our problem." He smirked, passing around the paper and trying not to laugh at the shocked expressions of his colleagues.
"This..." Mabo started, eyes wide behind his glasses. "This is brilliant. How much do you need?"
"Two thousand yen each," Taichi replied. Four heads snapped up in unison. Taichi put his hands up defensively. "It'll be worth it, I promise."
"Tai-chan," Nagase started, rounding the group to come stand next to him. "I love you, you little midget!" Pulling him close, Nagase crushed Taichi to his chest.
"Air, Nagase! AIR."
--
In the end, Gussan lost the game of janken deciding who had to place the final prank. Two, almost three weeks had passed since the boobified!Taichi incident, lulling the members of Team Alpha (as they had "cleverly" been named by Aiba) into a false sense of security - just what Taichi was hoping for. The other members of Team Super Awesome (Nagase never was very creative) hovered in the breakroom on the fourth floor, just down the hall from accounting, trying to appear nonchalant (and most of them failing spectacularly). Joshima laughed at everything a little too loudly, Nagase couldn't blend in with normal people if he tried, and Mabo and Taichi's eyes glowed with mischief. Not a good combination for a stakeout.
Gussan sighed and finished the preparations, fingers nimble from years of taking apart toys and putting them back together. He probably was the best for this job, as it required precision and care - something the others clearly lacked.
A short whistle sounded from behind him, alerting Gussan to the presence of a member of Team Alpha. The others hid behind whatever they could - newspaper, fridge, or the couch, in Nagase's case.
Sho bumped shoulders with Gussan lightly as they passed in the doorway. "Mornin', Yamaguchi-san," he said with a sleepy smile. "Coffee." Gussan just nodded, not trusting himself to speak and hurried around the corner, watching Sho from a good distance.
Sho never saw it coming, the poor sap. Taichi watched as it all happened, almost in slow motion. Filling the carafe for the coffee, placing the filter in - Taichi could have sworn Sho was being purposely slow this morning. He fought the urge to yell "HURRY UP", but only because it would blow his carefully concealed cover behind the sports section (the Giants lost again? There went his share of the company pot). All five watched with bated breath as Sho reached slowly to the cabinet containing the coffee.
The sound was less impressive than Taichi thought it would be, but the actual image was well worth the ten thousand yen it cost to ship the device from America. Releasing the pressure on the catch as he opened the door, Sho was greeted with three bottles worth of White Out to the face and shoulders, courtesy of a cansiter of CO2 and the RAP4 Pressure Activated Paintball Landmine.
Taichi and Joshima fell to the floor, laughing as Nagase slapped the front of the fridge, tears streaming down his face. Mabo was content to roll around on the floor, gasping something about Casper the Friendly Ghost and dry cleaning bills he so wasn't paying.
Confused, blinded, and covered in what he prayed wasn't someone's jizz, Sho wiped at his eyes and stumbled to the door, hands in front of him. Grabbing for the first person he could make out, Sho stuttered, "Cou-could you push me toward the bathroom?"
Behind him, the laughter ceased, replaced only by silence.
"Oh fuck," Gussan breathed, looking up from his place down the hall, completely doubled over, to see Sho's correction-fluid-covered hands grasping the front of Nakai's rather expensive-looking suit. He was fairly sure he'd never seen a lovelier shade of puce as Nakai began sputtering and screaming, voice hitting a pitch Gussan would have laughed at if he wasn't half of the object of shouting.
"MY OFFICE, NOW," Nakai shrieked, pointing to Sho, then Gussan and back again.
"Fuck," the others breathed in unison.
--
In the end, Gussan and Sho both received two days off without pay after a ridiculously long lecture about how the company wasn't doing well, Nakai didn't have time for these shenanigans, and who the hell was going to pay for his suit?
The other eight - everyone from Ohno to Nagase - pooled their money and bought Nakai a new suit (which was way too expensive for any of them to afford individually - only confirming Aiba's belief in the Napoleon complex). It was collective responsibility, or so Jun said as he stared them all down.
Dark days settled over SI. The previous months of pranks and laughter felt like such a lifetime ago as they all plodded to work, getting things done as necessary, and going home, hoping and praying the next day wouldn't be their last of secured employment. It wasn't until several weeks of moping had passed that Aiba realized something was different. He was sitting at the same table, in the same courtyard as he had months ago, plotting with Oh-chan about how to get back at Taichi. This time, however, was different. Red and orange leaves skittered across the ground, pushed along by a cool fall wind. The weather had changed, but it was more than just the weather. Aiba was sure of it. Nagase sat across from him, happily slurping his ramen and exchanging stinging barbs with Nino, still shuffling those damn cards to Aiba's right. To his left, Mabo threw back his head and laughed loudly at some underhanded insult thrown his way. Despite the stress of recent days, Aiba was happier than he had been in a long time. He'd found a group he belonged to - ten guys brought together by a common love of pranking (and hatred of being pranked).
Nino smacked him on the back of the head lightly, bringing Aiba back to the present. Aiba just smiled and continued his lunch, not even bothering to be upset at the abuse he was well used to.
"Hey guys, I have an idea," Taichi said, squeezing himself down on the bench next to Nino and snatching a rice ball from the open bento in front of them.
"OI," Nino protested, then relented. He probably wasn't going to eat it anyway.
Sho and Jun wandered over, shoving Mabo over to share Nagase's bench and taking his for their own, swapping bits of lunch with each other.
"No seriously, this is a great idea," Taichi started again.
"I don't know if you noticed this or not," Sho said seriously. "But my ass, all our asses, is on the line here. We don't have time for another prank. We've got to be focused on how to not lose our jobs. This is a worldwide economy you know, and if America goes down, we all go do-"
"Sakurai," Nagase said, leaning across to put two fingers on Sho's lips, silencing him. "Shut up." He leaned back, smirking at Sho's shell-shocked expression. "Go ahead, midgee."
"As I was saying," Taichi began again, waving Joshima, Gussan and Ohno over from their table nearby. "A. We don't have to worry about our jobs anymore. Super Mart Combini just hired SI to do all their promotional flyers for the rest of the year. We're back in business boys." Taichi paused, whoops of joy from his coworkers overwhelming him for a moment as he beamed around the table.
Finally calming a bit, Aiba leaned back and patted his belly. "And what's B?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"B," Taichi started. "I have a plan to get Nakai back. And he'll never know it was us."
Leaning in curiously, nine pairs of eyes bore through Taichi's skull.
"What did you have in mind?" Nino asked, lips curving into a smirk.
Aiba laughed. This was going to be a great year for SMAP, INC.
Characters/Groups: TOKIO & Arashi + assorted JE cameos
Genre: Gen, attempted humor
Rating/Warnings: PG; swearing and workplace mischief
Word Count: 7000
Notes: Written for vintage_belle for je_justfriends. Originally posted here Many thanks to miquilis for letting me bounce ideas off of her, lyricalidol for giving me incentives to finish and katmillia for betaing the crap out of this. ♥ The title makes no sense. It's the title of a K-pop mashup by masa. XD;
•••••
It was a slow day in July when it all started. Nino took his customary 10:30 a.m. coffee break from the bowels of the SMAP, INC. building's IT department up to Aiba's somewhat cluttered desk in marketing. The recession hit everyone hard, but most especially Marketing, leaving Aiba Masaki, brilliant advertiser with the highest sales rate in the prefecture, with little to do most days but come up with exceptionally stupid things to keep himself busy.
Occasionally, though, he had a stroke of brilliance.
Nino plopped himself in the chair next to Aiba's area with a slight oof, nodding in silent hello, not even sure he wanted to know why Aiba was hunched over his workspace with a bottle of Crazy Glue, about 20 pens, and what Nino assumed were the matching pen caps. It only took about three minutes of waiting for Nino to finally give in to his curiosity, leaning across the desk and picking up one of the pens.
"Aiba-chan," he started, picking up one of the 'completed' pens. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Gluing all of Taichi from Purchasing's pen caps to his pens," Aiba answered lightly, not looking up from his project.
Nino tossed the pen back on the desk and leaned back to adjust his tie, wondering for the upteenth time that day why he was required to wear one when he was permanently relegated to Hades. "Oh, yes, of course. That makes perfect sense," he replied with a shrug. "How did I not think of it myself?"
Aiba blew the hair out of his eyes and kept gluing, steadfastly ignoring his friend as they sat in silence.
"I didn't start it," he mumbled to no one in particular, tossing another completed pen on the stack and trying to unstick his fingers from each other.
--
To be perfectly honest, Nagase Tomoya, Warehouse Manager at SI, had started the whole mess. Aiba had only been kidding (kind of) when he imparted the 'Naga-nii' nickname upon his superior. It was meant to be a loving gesture! Something worthy of his standing as honorary big brother to all kouhai in the building. Honest! But after the fourth, fifth and eightieth time of being told (yelled at, rather) not to call Nagase-san that (by Nagase-san), and scurrying away, heaving that breathy giggle, Nagase suspected Aiba would forever call him by the stupid nickname.
Clearly, this meant payback.
Nagase settled himself in Aiba's squeaky office chair and glanced around the cluttered cubicle, grinning a bit evilly.
"What exactly do you intend to do, Tomoya?" Taichi asked from his spot as lookout. Truth be told, he wasn't doing a very good job, having already been asked himself by three or four people (including that weird kid from graphic design who's name he could never remember - not that it mattered, as he wandered off half a second after asking anyway) what they were doing in Aiba-san's cube.
"I haven't really decided yet," Nagase replied, spinning fast circles in Aiba's chair. "Hey, can I get one of these spinny chairs? My chair swivels, but doesn't got all the way around and I am the warehouse manager, you know. I should get a spinny chair and oh god I'm gonna throw up." Taichi rolled his eyes and pushed Aiba's trashcan a few centimeters closer to Nagase's stilled form, hunched over the desk, face on the cool wood surface. "OH!" Nagase exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. "I've got it."
Pulling a piece of clear plastic tape from the handily-placed roll, Nagase applied it with great care to the earpiece of Aiba's phone. "Okay, here!" he said, popping out of the chair and shuttling Taichi over to the receiver. "Listen!"
Taichi picked up the phone and held it to his ear. The faint buzz of a dial tone was fuzzier than usual and about twelve degrees softer. "And here I thought subtlety wasn't your thing," Taichi praised, placing the receiver back in its cradle and hustling Nagase out before either of them was noticed again.
They took turns over the next two days to call Aiba's phone and make suggestive comments about his mother into the phone, laughing like idiots every time Aiba replied back with "WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU. SPEAK UP PLEASE? I THINK THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY PHONE."
--
It was the end of day two that Taichi realized they were busted. Nagase had made a poorly executed suggestion regarding his beef and Aiba-momma's broccoli ("What? They run a Chinese restaurant!") when Aiba's "OI!" came through loud and clear. Slamming down the phone, Nagase and Taichi could only stare at each other for a moment. Their laughter could be heard in the conference room on the top floor.
It wasn't until two weeks later, when Taichi was hurriedly attempting to sign invoices, that the true revenge was discovered. Tugging on pen cap after pen cap, Taichi could feel his face quickly turning red with exertion and frustration. "What the...." he muttered, pulling out a new box of pens and trying to pry off the caps of those to no avail. Taichi couldn't understand - it was a brand new box. He only ever used the same brand of pens - black, fine point, and only sold in one store in the area.
"Oh hey, Tai-chan," Aiba drawled, leaning against the door frame to Taichi's office, dripping with forced nonchalance. Taichi's head shot up from his quest, eyebrows narrowing at the sight of his colleague. The little shit twirled a pen - black, fine point, and only sold in one store in the area - between his long fingers. "Having problems?" The hyena-like laugh lingered in Taichi's ears long after he'd sauntered away, leaving Taichi feeling a little shell-shocked (and a great deal more pissed off) in his wake.
"Tomoya," Taichi growled, half-covering the phone with one hand and darting his eyes about suspiciously. "I think we may have a war on our hands."
--
SMAP, INC. was first incorporated in early 1991 as nothing more than five friends with a dream. It only took three years for the fledgling paper company to become the highest grossing business of its kind in Japan. Less than ten years after inception, the company was known worldwide as catering to the paper needs of everything from small Mom & Pop businesses to large corporations. CEO and President Nakai Masahiro had what Aiba liked to refer to as a small man's syndrome: the Napoleon complex, if you will. Suppressing giggles every time Nakai stalked through the halls in his suit and rather jaunty hat, Aiba dropped whispered jokes to whoever would listen. Nino was that one day, Aiba would be busted, and then there would be hell to pay. Until that day, he laughed behind his hand - very un-subtly, of course. Nakai could often be found with the other four members of the board trailing behind him - Kimura, his second in command and head of sales was possibly the most fabulous specimen of man alive - and he knew it; Shingo, who insisted everyone just call him "Shingo", was apparently the head of accounting and purchasing (though Nino had yet to see him ever near the accounting floor); Goro, lead designer, was one of those quiet, kind of creepy guys - not unlike his employees (namely that one moon-faced dude Aiba liked to hang out with); Kusanagi had once started stripping at the company Christmas party and was forever dubbed "The Naked Guy" by Aiba. Nino wasn't sure what exactly he was in charge of.
It was somewhere between Aiba's third "lolshorty" IM and the fifth "how big do you think his...." e-mail that Nakai stormed into the IT office alone, eyes blazing as if he were itching for a fight. As usual.
"Matsuoka!" he barked, striding up to the IT manager like an angry little dog taking on a Rottweiler. Matsuoka Masahiro (no relation, thank GOD), stood his ground, pulling himself up to his full height - a full 17 centimeters taller than his technical superior and looked down upon him.
"Yes.....sir?" Matsuoka asked, thin veil of respect slipping oh-so-slightly. Known more commonly to employees and friends alike, Mabo was an incredibly easy going, laid back and all around cool kind of guy - things Nakai absolutely despised in someone in a position of power, however feeble the IT manager power may be (considering his only employee was Nino, who had taken to calling him "Matsu-nii" after the first thirty seconds on the job three years prior).
"Why do we not have full access to Powerpoint in the main conference room? And where is my 17 inch flat screen LCD? I thought that was to come in last week!" Nakai paced around the small dark room, eyes darting here and there, taking in every detail - from the security screens displaying every camera in the building (all 12), to the bank of computers, to Nino slowly shuffling a pack of cards, feet up on the desk. "And what is the meaning of this?" Nakai sputtered, waving a hand in Nino's general direction.
"I believe Ninomiya is practicing his latest tricks, sir," Mabo replied, face a mask of seriousness. It was moments like those that Nino really and truly loved his supervisor, he thought as the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
Nakai paused in his pacing, face frozen in anger, looking not entirely sure how to handle the situation. Nino's mouth quirked again at the indecision. Nakai was a powerful man - certainly not one to be tangled with - and Nino knew it. The man signed his paychecks (actually, someone in accounting named Morita did that, but Nino wasn't one for trivial details as long as he got his check). Sliding his feet down slowly, Nino stood and bowed in apology.
"I'm on my break, sir," Nino said, hiding his smile with his bow. "It won't happen again."
"Damn right it won't," Nakai replied, glowering still. "Matsuoka! Powerpoint. I need it in less than an hour. ONE HOUR, MATSUOKA." Stomping off, Nakai slammed the heavy glass door, not giving them a backward glance.
Mabo stalked across the room in three long strides, whopping Nino across the back of his head. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath.
"OI," Nino called, rubbing his head and trying to frown at Mabo's back as he left the room. "You're the one who wanted to see my new trick!"
Nino smiled as the door rattled behind Mabo, who was hopefully on his way to fix the Powerpoint situation. There were times he really enjoyed his job, he thought.
--
"And how long have you worked here, Aiba-san?" Matsumoto asked, pushing up his glasses a bit and making a small notation on his clipboard. The recession was apparently hitting harder than Aiba realized. Matsumoto, with his perfectly coifed hair (and Aiba was sure he was wearing mascara), was some lackey from accounting. He'd been sent around to each cubicle to drill employees on their status with the company, how necessary they felt their own job was and if they thought the company was doing well. Despite appearances, and his somewhat airheaded reputation, Aiba wasn't stupid. He knew what Matsumoto was here for, and it scared him. A lot.
"About three years?" Aiba began. "I started around the same time as Nino, you know Nino? He works down in IT. Funny little guy. He's kind of weird, but he's definitely my best friend. Though Ohno's probably one of my best friends, too. Ohno's down in graphic design and the guy is seriously talented. I wish I could be that talented, but all I'm really good at is talking and coming up with good slogans. And experiments, but there's not really any time for experiments here. But one time I did try to get Nino to wear a paper tie I made; I mean, it looked like real silk because we have some really excellent printers here and you could almost not tell until you touched it, but Nino was all 'I'm a professional' even though all he does is play card games all day with Matsu-nii, but sometimes they get busy, like when the computers are down or something, you know, 'cause they're in IT." He rambled on and on for another thirty seconds, jumping from subject to subject without any segue Matsumoto could detect.
Sakurai, Matsumoto's office mate and all around good guy, just stared as Aiba's face turned red from lack of oxygen. "Breathe," he said, a bit awed. "Um, Jun," Sakurai started, placing a hand on Matsumoto's (Jun, apparently) shoulder and looking down. "Are we about done here? I'm sure Aiba-san would like to get back to work." Sakurai looked up and beamed and Aiba could hardly contain his own grin.
"It's just Aiba," he replied. "Aiba-chan, if you're feeling frisky enough to add a title, but none of that '-san' business. That makes me feel like my father." Aiba made a face at the thought. "I'm sorry I talked so much," he continued, cheeks pinking a bit in embarrassment. "It's kind of nerve-wracking when the guys from accounting are in my cube asking me if I'm needed in the company or not." Aiba looked away, hoping and praying they'd take pity on him. He held back the desire to turn his puppy eyes on them - he was sure Sakurai ("Sho," he'd insisted) would crack under the pressure, but that Matsumoto had a face of stone. A pretty face of stone, to be sure, but granite, nonetheless.
"It's quite alright, Aiba-san," Jun replied, standing and stretching his arm to shake Aiba's hand once. "Thank you for your time."
There was a dinging e-mail from Aiba's computer. "Not a problem," he mumbled slightly, turning in his chair to open the mail. A video? he thought, puzzled. Aiba opened the file, not even paying attention to the two men still standing at the entrance of his cube, arguing silently behind him.
Jun turned to walk out of the cubicle, Sho following along, before he remembered Aiba still had to sign the questionnaire. "One more thing, Aiba-san. I just need you to-"
"OH GOD, OH GOD YES. JUST LIKE THAT. YES YES YES." All three jumped in surprise, eyes glued to the woman on Aiba's computer screen being furiously banged from behind by no less than two men (or at least Aiba thought they were men, turning his head slightly), voice carrying through the entire department at top volume.
"SHIT SHIT SHIT." Aiba scrambled to find the volume knob on his speakers, hurriedly turning them down. He wondered vaguely why he ever would have turned them all the way up, anyway. "FUCK," he cursed loudly, closing the video and laying his head on the desk.
Jun and Sho glanced at each other, eyes wide with a combination of shock and scandal. "I think we have all we need, Aiba-san," Jun said, patting him once on the shoulder and walking away quickly, Sho trailing behind him, throwing sympathetic glances in Aiba's direction.
"Fuck," Aiba whimpered softly into his arm, vowing revenge (again) on Taichi and Nagase. Who else would be so completely unoriginal?
--
"You gonna eat that, Masaki?"
Aiba shoved his bento across the table with one hand, still staring out at the courtyard, pondering his perhaps no longer existent future. Ohno Satoshi quickly worked his way through Aiba's lunch, murmuring a quiet "delicious!" between bites and hardly looking up at his friend. Aiba liked Ohno a lot. He was quiet, diligent in his work, an amazing designer, and, despite appearances, rarely missed anything that happened around him.
"Still worried about the porn?" Ohno asked, mouth full of rice and pickled eel. Aiba was sure Ohno could read his thoughts without even opening his mouth. For the sake of conversation, however, Aiba felt it pertinent to respond.
"Yeah," he sighed. "I can't believe they'd sink that low. I mean, I guess it's not their fault Jun and Sho just happened to be doing a 'do we really need this doof' inspection at the very moment I got the e-mail," Aiba started, reaching over to pick out an onigiri with one hand. He chomped on it for a moment. "And I guess I shouldn't have opened it without reading first. Or adjusting my volume." Aiba continued staring out into the lush mini-park. SI had spared no expense in treating its employees to luxuries. The grounds were rich with color - bright, vibrant flowering bushes lining the circling walkways around the center slab of concrete. Ten stone tables with matching benches dotted the middle portion of the courtyard, just far enough apart to let their occupants enjoy some modicum of privacy, but close enough together to feel comfortable and cozy. It was one of Aiba's very favorite places in the world.
"Maybe you should do something even better in retaliation," Ohno suggested with a shrug, bits of rice clinging to his chin and the fuzz that had started growing there. Aiba found it almost endearing how the man (now nearing 30, he was sure) attempted to look his age. And how he failed so spectacularly.
"What do you mean 'better'?" Aiba asked dejectedly. "Like Photoshopping Taichi's head on some gravure models' bodies?" Aiba reached out to grab another onigiri and paused, looking up at Ohno's smirking face with matching grin of his own.
"I can have them to you by next week."
--
Nagase loved being warehouse manager. The job suited him perfectly - he got to wear jeans every day, boss around idiots, and occasionally hide in his air-conditioned office pretending to work on paperwork. It was a pretty sweet gig and he couldn't be more grateful that the previous warehouse manager had kicked the bucket only two weeks after Nagase's first day on the job, catapulting him into the opening. Sure, it got frustrating as hell when one of the guys called in, or needed a day off, or when they undermined his authority, but Nagase prided himself on having a good team under him. They worked well together and Nagase considered them the heart and soul of SI's operations (and he wasn't biased at all).
Not that he would ever say it, but Nagase kind of loved his little band of merry men. Even if that Akanishi kid had a smart mouth on him, he had even quicker reflexes, packing and loading boxes as a higher rate than any of the other Horsemen of the Boozepocalypse (a group name bestowed upon themselves at the last company picnic when Shirota had gotten fabulously drunk and piggy-backed Ryo while being chased by Mackey and that weird dude with the eyes they all called Yamapi).
Nagase had seen a lot of workers come and go, but these guys were the first ones he knew he could count on to leave him the eff alone as he pushed papers in his office. As long as the work got done, Nagase was more than willing to turn a blind eye to whatever shenanigans took place (and participated in the Paper Airplane Tourney of 2009, himself. He won second place, though Mackey's plane had an impressive wingspan and double rudders - a feat in and of itself for an airplane made of one standard sheet of copy paper).
It was after a rousing game of paper-basketball that Nagase discovered the next stage in the battle. Akanishi followed him in the office, yammering on about Nagase's lack of "game" and how hard it must be to be over 30 and taking on guys ten years his junior.
"Shut up and get back to work, Akanishi," Nagase said, though his tone lacked any real venom. He liked the kid, and Akanishi was pretty quiet most of the time, but once he got all high-tension, you couldn't get him to shut up - one of the less-attractive qualities in a worker bee. "Seriously," he said, turning and drawing himself up to his full height. "Get the fuck out of my office."
"Calm down, Naga-nii, jeez," Akanishi replied, hands up in deferrment. "I just wanted to borrow a pen real quick." Jin darted around Nagase quickly, proving his paper-basketball skills weren't just limited to the court and grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on in the pen cup.
"I told you not to call me tha- what the eff is that?" Nagase asked, pointing at Akanishi's hand, clasped lightly around a bright purple crayon.
"It....appears to be a crayon, sir," Akanishi said, trying to suppress his giggles.
"I know it's a fucking crayon, you idiot. What the hell is it doing in my pen cup?" Nagase stalked over to the desk, face darkening with every step. Tipping over the pen cup, 15 more crayons of varying colors spilled out, covering his desk and a note.
Akanishi got to it before Nagase could even react. "Something more your speed," he read slowly. Their eyes met across the short distance and Akanishi lost it. "MORE YOUR SPEED!" Guffawing, Akanishi dropped the note and fled the office before bodily harm could come to him, hee-hawing to the other guys - "a thousand yen to whoever switched out the pens for crayons!"
Nagase flipped over the paper to find another note. 'This is for the porn, you douche. More to come. That's what she said.'
"Ooooh, Aiba-chan," Nagase breathed, smile crossing his face as he ignored the whoops and amused calls from the warehouse. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."
--
"Joshima and Yamaguchi from research and development are supposed to come up in a few to talk about where else we can cut corners." Jun frowned down at his clipboard, notations scattered throughout. He was trying to detail who was expendable, and what departments were the least needed in the company. Accounting was under a lot of pressure with the economy failing so hard, and Jun felt the weight from above to clip costs as much as possible. He hated the idea of people losing their jobs, especially in times like these, but he had to do what was necessary to keep his job. Jun was just glad he had Sho on his side to keep him human and remind him of things like "humanity" and "compassion" and other five dollar words the guy liked to throw around.
Jun liked Sho well enough. He was a hard worker, fairly quiet, laughed at Jun's dry jokes. Somewhere along the line he'd mentioned a degree from Keio, blush coloring his cheeks in a mixture of pride and embarrassment. Jun kind of suspected Sho liked talking about his accomplishments and he could hardly blame the man - Keio was a hard school. Jun himself had a degree from Meiji, but no desire to flaunt it. He preferred to be recognized for his accomplishments on the job, not where he'd gone to school. Education was irrelevant if you were an idiot at the core.
"R&D is involved now?" Sho asked, eyebrows drawing together. He leaned against the doorframe of his office, looking to all the world like he was as relaxed as a Sunday afternoon. "I don't mean to be cold, but couldn't we cut R&D before, you know, accounting?"
Jun sighed slightly. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too. But you know how it is. They have to have some kind of checks and balances system. Or so says the boss."
"Afraid of losing your job, Matsumoto?"
Jun froze, turning slightly and tried not to flinch. "Joshima-san. Yamaguchi-san. Lovely to see you again," he said, plastering on what he hoped was a sincere smile and reaching out to shake their hands.
"Hm," Yamaguchi replied, face stony as usual. Joshima looked lost and a little confused. Jun always wondered how exactly they'd been paired up, but apparently they worked well together. In the last ten years, the pair had developed a line of recycled paper more efficient than any other company on the market - Nakai was more than a little in love with them for it. Gussan, as Yamaguchi was called around the office, and Joshima were Nakai's golden boys. It was no secret that Jun wanted that title for himself. And maybe Sho, too.
"Yes, well," Jun started, trying not to fidget. Now was not the time to show weakness. Stand strong, he told himself. Be a man. "Shall we go to my office?"
Jun ushered the pair the short distance to his sparsely decorated office. Where Sho liked knicknacks and letters of glowing pride from previous employers to decorate his walls, Jun preferred the quiet simplicity of the wood paneling. His office wasn't large, by any means, nor ostentatious, like Kimura's top-floor corner with its three walls of windows (and almost no work done in it, besides the "work" he was rumored to do with his ever-changing line of secretaries), but Jun couldn't help but love it. It was warm, comfortable, and above all - his. Jun would do what was necessary to keep it.
"Now gentlemen, if you would just have a seat," Jun gestured to the chairs in front of his desk - utilitarian, but comfortable, like the rest of his office. Feeling a bit high and mighty, Jun walked to his leather chair (a splurge he'd convinced Morita to sign off on last year) and started to sit. "So, we were talking abouuAAAAAHHH!"
It was the first time Jun had properly looked at his ceiling. Tomorrow, he'd get maintenance in to clean. As it were, there was pain radiating from somewhere in his midsection up through his back. "Ow," he whispered, trying to roll off what was once his chair.
"What the hell?!" the other three yelled, jumping up together as Jun went down.
Sho hurried to Jun's side, helping him up off the floor with care. "Are you okay?" he asked, eyes wide with concern.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, looking down at the mess. Jun bent and picked up a screw. "Did....did someone unscrew my chair?" His voice tinged with a combination of horror, anger, and just the very, very slightest bit of amusement. "Someone unscrewed my fucking chair." Jun and Sho gaped at each other for a long moment. Muffled laughter drifted over them from across the desk.
Jun glanced over to find the head developers of SI hunched over each other, shaking with laughter. His eyes narrowed. "I think this meeting is over, gentlemen."
--
Nino looked around the room a bit with suspicion. The other occupants he'd seen around here and there - Ohno, the guy Aiba always ate lunch with, and Sakurai and Matsumoto, who'd drilled him for almost half an hour last week on whether or not he felt his job was necessary (they apparently didn't like his answer of "I do magic tricks for 7 and a half hours a day and reset passwords for the other 30 minutes"). Truth be told, Nino was worried. He knew things were looking grim at SI, that Nakai had issued an edict to cut costs wherever they could. He had hoped being in IT was a necessary position.
He was starting to wonder if he was wrong.
"Gentlemen," Aiba started, voice pulling Nino from his worries. "I asked you all here today under cover of secrecy for a very important mission."
"Aiba-chan, we're in my office, it's lunchtime, and like four people popped in to say 'hi.' This is hardly secret," Sho said. Nino still hadn't decided if he liked that guy or not.
"Irrelevant!" Aiba shouted, slamming one hand down on Sho's desk.
Nino leaned against the bookcase near the door and grinned. He kind of loved when Aiba got all worked up like this. It meant the fun was going to start soon.
"As you know," Aiba began again, steepling his long fingers. "There have been several attempts at pranking in the last few weeks by various members of the SI staff."
Jun looked ready to protest, but Sho's hand on his arm and the slight shake of his head made Jun snap his mouth closed. He coughed slightly, wincing as he settled back against the chair. It seemed the fall to the floor had bruised him in a rather uncomfortable place.
"I propose we join forces," Aiba continued, pulling out a sheet of paper with a myriad of haphazard drawings upon it. The other four leaned in slightly. "Until now, we've been operating independently. Well, Nino and I have. Well, I have and Nino laughs." Aiba paused for effect before barrelling on. "What I propose is a meeting of the minds. Brainstorming, if you will. Forget the recession. Forget the fact that we might all be unemployed tomorrow. Our pride is on the line!" Aiba stood, slamming his fist down on the table. "Are you with me?" he said loudly.
"YEAH!" Ohno shouted, throwing a fist in the air. The others turned slowly to look at him. "Wait....was that not right?" he asked sheepishly, arm still raised above his head.
"No, Oh-chan! That's exactly what we need! Enthusiasm! LET'S DO THIS THING!" Aiba fist-bumped Ohno, almost knocking the small man over with the force.
"Oh, what the hell," Nino said, striding over and holding out his fist to be bumped, smile crossing his face once again. "I'm in."
"Me too!" Jun exclaimed. "My ass still hurts." Jun rubbed his backside softly, trying to hold in a pained whimper.
"Sho, what about you?" Aiba asked, turning to the last of their little group.
Sho whipped his head around, diverting his eyes from Jun's hand still moving across the seat of his pants. Coughing once, Sho nodded. "Yeah, sure. I'm in. Just....nothing to get us fired, please." Sho looked decidedly nervous at the prospect of being unemployed.
"I make no promises," Aiba said, lips curving into an evil smile Nino couldn't help but be proud of. "I make. No. Promises."
--
The following weeks brought an all-out battle to the offices of SMAP, Inc.
Still stinging (literally and figuratively) from his fall, Jun vowed revenge on those who wronged him. Aiba was quick to place the blame on the original pranksters, Nagase and Taichi, but they hadn't been the ones nearly crying with laughter as Jun writhed on the floor. Implementing his new-found friendship with Nino, IT tech and pretty decent human being (for the right price), Jun exacted his cleverly-thought-out revenge. It had taken Gussan almost ten minutes to get Joshima breathing properly again after he discovered every file on his hard drive had been wiped from memory. And another thirty for the pair to follow the poorly drawn "treasure map" (Sho was not in charge of future drawing projects, it was unanimously decided) leading to the trash compactor in the basement where the memory stick containing all his research had been hidden. Two hours later, they slogged to the employee bathroom, covered in slop, memory stick in hand (whoever had decided on soup and sandwiches day, and then tossed it all away in the same bin, was on Gussan's shit list for the next month).
It was almost a week later that Ohno realized his office chair (smooth, comfy) had been replaced with one of the benches from the courtyard. Mabo had waddled around for days after being recruited by the R&D boys to help carry it up the stairs. (They'd made it to the third floor before anyone thought to use the elevator.) He'd liked that chair. It had taken almost two solid years for it to finally fit the curve of his butt just right.
The pictures of Taichi with boobs showed up in every elevator in the building the following day. And on the tables in the lunchroom. And a couple plastered to the walls of the men's bathrooms.
Taichi called a group meeting of his own, using his extensive collection of spies throughout the building to get the word out without the opposing faction catching wind. It was well after hours that they all gathered in his office, staring at the myriad of toys adorning every horizontal surface.
"You are an adult, right, Tai-chan?" Nagase asked, picking up one of the spinner toys and giving it a good twirl.
"You're one to talk, Naga-nii," Taichi sneered back.
"Guys, please. Why are we here?" Gussan leaned against Taichi's desk, taking in the group before him. Nagase and Mabo stood side-by-side, sizing each other up, both trying to stand taller than the other. Joshima, as usual, looked a little lost, hovering close to Gussan's side and toying with the hem of his untucked shirt.
Taichi rounded the desk and picked up a sheet of paper. "I have the ultimate prank. The final showdown. The nail in the child-sized coffin of those brats that've been toying with us."
Gussan waved a hand impatiently. "Point?"
"This," Taichi said, turning the paper. "We can only get it online, and I'm pretty sure it's mildly illegal, but placed properly and timed well, I think it might be the solution to our problem." He smirked, passing around the paper and trying not to laugh at the shocked expressions of his colleagues.
"This..." Mabo started, eyes wide behind his glasses. "This is brilliant. How much do you need?"
"Two thousand yen each," Taichi replied. Four heads snapped up in unison. Taichi put his hands up defensively. "It'll be worth it, I promise."
"Tai-chan," Nagase started, rounding the group to come stand next to him. "I love you, you little midget!" Pulling him close, Nagase crushed Taichi to his chest.
"Air, Nagase! AIR."
--
In the end, Gussan lost the game of janken deciding who had to place the final prank. Two, almost three weeks had passed since the boobified!Taichi incident, lulling the members of Team Alpha (as they had "cleverly" been named by Aiba) into a false sense of security - just what Taichi was hoping for. The other members of Team Super Awesome (Nagase never was very creative) hovered in the breakroom on the fourth floor, just down the hall from accounting, trying to appear nonchalant (and most of them failing spectacularly). Joshima laughed at everything a little too loudly, Nagase couldn't blend in with normal people if he tried, and Mabo and Taichi's eyes glowed with mischief. Not a good combination for a stakeout.
Gussan sighed and finished the preparations, fingers nimble from years of taking apart toys and putting them back together. He probably was the best for this job, as it required precision and care - something the others clearly lacked.
A short whistle sounded from behind him, alerting Gussan to the presence of a member of Team Alpha. The others hid behind whatever they could - newspaper, fridge, or the couch, in Nagase's case.
Sho bumped shoulders with Gussan lightly as they passed in the doorway. "Mornin', Yamaguchi-san," he said with a sleepy smile. "Coffee." Gussan just nodded, not trusting himself to speak and hurried around the corner, watching Sho from a good distance.
Sho never saw it coming, the poor sap. Taichi watched as it all happened, almost in slow motion. Filling the carafe for the coffee, placing the filter in - Taichi could have sworn Sho was being purposely slow this morning. He fought the urge to yell "HURRY UP", but only because it would blow his carefully concealed cover behind the sports section (the Giants lost again? There went his share of the company pot). All five watched with bated breath as Sho reached slowly to the cabinet containing the coffee.
The sound was less impressive than Taichi thought it would be, but the actual image was well worth the ten thousand yen it cost to ship the device from America. Releasing the pressure on the catch as he opened the door, Sho was greeted with three bottles worth of White Out to the face and shoulders, courtesy of a cansiter of CO2 and the RAP4 Pressure Activated Paintball Landmine.
Taichi and Joshima fell to the floor, laughing as Nagase slapped the front of the fridge, tears streaming down his face. Mabo was content to roll around on the floor, gasping something about Casper the Friendly Ghost and dry cleaning bills he so wasn't paying.
Confused, blinded, and covered in what he prayed wasn't someone's jizz, Sho wiped at his eyes and stumbled to the door, hands in front of him. Grabbing for the first person he could make out, Sho stuttered, "Cou-could you push me toward the bathroom?"
Behind him, the laughter ceased, replaced only by silence.
"Oh fuck," Gussan breathed, looking up from his place down the hall, completely doubled over, to see Sho's correction-fluid-covered hands grasping the front of Nakai's rather expensive-looking suit. He was fairly sure he'd never seen a lovelier shade of puce as Nakai began sputtering and screaming, voice hitting a pitch Gussan would have laughed at if he wasn't half of the object of shouting.
"MY OFFICE, NOW," Nakai shrieked, pointing to Sho, then Gussan and back again.
"Fuck," the others breathed in unison.
--
In the end, Gussan and Sho both received two days off without pay after a ridiculously long lecture about how the company wasn't doing well, Nakai didn't have time for these shenanigans, and who the hell was going to pay for his suit?
The other eight - everyone from Ohno to Nagase - pooled their money and bought Nakai a new suit (which was way too expensive for any of them to afford individually - only confirming Aiba's belief in the Napoleon complex). It was collective responsibility, or so Jun said as he stared them all down.
Dark days settled over SI. The previous months of pranks and laughter felt like such a lifetime ago as they all plodded to work, getting things done as necessary, and going home, hoping and praying the next day wouldn't be their last of secured employment. It wasn't until several weeks of moping had passed that Aiba realized something was different. He was sitting at the same table, in the same courtyard as he had months ago, plotting with Oh-chan about how to get back at Taichi. This time, however, was different. Red and orange leaves skittered across the ground, pushed along by a cool fall wind. The weather had changed, but it was more than just the weather. Aiba was sure of it. Nagase sat across from him, happily slurping his ramen and exchanging stinging barbs with Nino, still shuffling those damn cards to Aiba's right. To his left, Mabo threw back his head and laughed loudly at some underhanded insult thrown his way. Despite the stress of recent days, Aiba was happier than he had been in a long time. He'd found a group he belonged to - ten guys brought together by a common love of pranking (and hatred of being pranked).
Nino smacked him on the back of the head lightly, bringing Aiba back to the present. Aiba just smiled and continued his lunch, not even bothering to be upset at the abuse he was well used to.
"Hey guys, I have an idea," Taichi said, squeezing himself down on the bench next to Nino and snatching a rice ball from the open bento in front of them.
"OI," Nino protested, then relented. He probably wasn't going to eat it anyway.
Sho and Jun wandered over, shoving Mabo over to share Nagase's bench and taking his for their own, swapping bits of lunch with each other.
"No seriously, this is a great idea," Taichi started again.
"I don't know if you noticed this or not," Sho said seriously. "But my ass, all our asses, is on the line here. We don't have time for another prank. We've got to be focused on how to not lose our jobs. This is a worldwide economy you know, and if America goes down, we all go do-"
"Sakurai," Nagase said, leaning across to put two fingers on Sho's lips, silencing him. "Shut up." He leaned back, smirking at Sho's shell-shocked expression. "Go ahead, midgee."
"As I was saying," Taichi began again, waving Joshima, Gussan and Ohno over from their table nearby. "A. We don't have to worry about our jobs anymore. Super Mart Combini just hired SI to do all their promotional flyers for the rest of the year. We're back in business boys." Taichi paused, whoops of joy from his coworkers overwhelming him for a moment as he beamed around the table.
Finally calming a bit, Aiba leaned back and patted his belly. "And what's B?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"B," Taichi started. "I have a plan to get Nakai back. And he'll never know it was us."
Leaning in curiously, nine pairs of eyes bore through Taichi's skull.
"What did you have in mind?" Nino asked, lips curving into a smirk.
Aiba laughed. This was going to be a great year for SMAP, INC.