[fic] Passes
Title: Passes
Characters/Pairings: Yokoo/Fujigaya
Rating: R
Notes: Written for noella84 as part of a small mini exchange. I think I'm sadly calling this a wip as it’s a fraction of what I wanted to write for you but then I kept restarting over and over unhappy with it and real life became unmanageable but I just wanted to post something for you before it became two weeks late.
other (good proper completed) fics from the exchange: Arashijun - Kira - Mousapelli - Noepi - Luna_Truths - Dusk037
“What if we missed our chance?” Fujigaya asks out of nowhere - out of nowhere because he hasn’t spoken to Yokoo for almost an hour. Barely looked or glanced or acknowledge him. Instead Fujigaya sits hunched obscured mostly by hat and hair preoccupied in his own mind watching the ice melt in the glass then downing the drink in one gulp. But then it’s not out of nowhere because it’s a question that’s been haunting over all seven of them for days now since the announcement. Perhaps the dark clouds of doubt have been brooding heaviest over Fujigaya.
Yokoo only shrugs in response, unsure how to answer, or if Fujigaya even expected him to, he’s as much built on an unstable foundation of missed chances and unseized opportunities as the rest of them. There’s nothing encouraging he can say or promise that Fujigaya would believe, all he can do is sit and wait for Fujigaya to be done, to be ready to leave, to offer him a place to crash for the night so he won’t have to travel so far home alone. Thankfully tomorrow there is break from dance rehearsals, and even if it wasn’t, Yokoo himself in all airs of stern responsibility would contemplate calling in sick or feigning a pulled muscle the requires him to lay in bed with the weight off. He’s as tired as the rest of them of back-dancing watching from the shadows of a group of kids a fraction their age and height debuting.
Fujigaya calls another order to the bar and Yokoo echoes it and then they’re quiet again for another hour.
Some nights Fujigaya barely makes it the few stumbling tired steps from the genkan to the sofa before falling face first exhausted and some nights Yokoo barely has the front door of his apartment ajar before Fujigaya is pushing him aside still full of energy eager to raid Yokoo’s fridge and cupboards for well past midnight snacks. Sometimes he’s quiet still from the izakaya or sometimes he launches into long monologues on the topic of everything and anything and things he’ll only tell Yokoo in private. And some nights Fujigaya works himself into such a ball of high strung stress and energy he makes himself sick.
And then some nights, like tonight, there’s a beat of an awkward pause between them as they stand there in their socks hovering in the doorway barely a foot apart. Fujigaya watches through fallen bangs contemplating and Yokoo knows it’s coming before Fujigaya even leans in. They’ve kissed before, just that, just something sweet and quick and stable amongst all the shit and rubble, just something that says at least they’re in it together.
There’s a slip of Fujigaya’s tongue against Yokoo’s lower lip, and that’s a first, then Fujigaya’s arms wind their way around Yokoo’s neck adjusting the angle and holding them flush together and it’s never quite gone this far before but neither pull away. A voice in Yokoo’s says to go slow, to take their time, to make sure they’re certain, it’s reasonable and responsible and usually the voice Yokoo listens to everyday but every sense in his body is suddenly heightened and on fire screaming with a want for more so loud it drowns everything else out.
His nails dig into the flesh of Fujigaya’s hips, scrape the skin, but Fujigaya doesn’t wince or pull away or tell him to stop, he only moans wantonly egging him on. Fujigaya doesn’t seem to want to slow down either, they trip over one another’s feet as they barrel into Yokoo’s bedroom. They move in a blur that neither seem able to process, their hands bump and tangle getting in their own way as they slip through buttons and pull at jeans, Fujigaya ends up on his back, legs spread and Yokoo inbetween. Fujigaya pushes in a slick finger alongside Yokoo’s matching the pace then pushing them faster forward.
Yokoo worries that he holds too tight or thrusts too sharp and hard but he’s both shocked and simultaneously scared that he hasn’t lost Fujigaya yet, that they haven’t reshuffled groups and debuted Fujigaya and left him behind again.
“Do you think we missed our chance?” Fujigaya asks after. It’s barely above a soft whisper brushing against Yokoo’s ear this time and he almost misses it, drowned out by the fast thump of Fujigaya’s racing heart, his face pressed tight against Fujigaya’s sweat soaked chest, and Yokoo’s own ragged breath gasping for air. It’s just another question neither of them can answer.
Yokoo sticks to the edge of the bed, gives Fujigaya the lion’s share of the blankets and brushes gentle hands over any patches of exposed skin soothing down any goosebumps that appear. When sleep finally comes Yokoo dreams of being lost in the galaxy. It’s cold in the dark unknown of space and some part of Yokoo’s consciousness reflects that he shouldn’t be quite so stingy with the thermostat.
Like an ice comet Yokoo follows his own mindless path as he orbits around the outskirts similar to how he wanders around the dance studio brushing past planets and checking each member has stretched properly before rehearsal. The light of the sun catches his eye, as bright and warm as Fujigaya’s smile and Yokoo finds himself veering towards the centre attracted, the glow of the sun seared into his eyes.
Yokoo makes it as far in as Mercury before he crashes down, the icy exterior shell of the comet gone without a trace and the heat of the sun’s smile melts it away and seeps into his heart.
In the morning Yokoo wakes first and cooks breakfast, Fujigaya’s favourites, theorizing that maybe if he spoils the other enough it'll lessen the chance that he’ll regret that they had sex. He goes as far as to even serve breakfast in bed instead of forcing Fujigaya to drag himself sluggishly to the table. Yokoo can ignore the dropped crumbs and spilt coffee drips as he jokes and plays up to being funny and silly and even if Fujigaya calls him ridiculous it’s fine as long as he laughs and smiles for the first times in days.
Maybe they’ll be the one chance he won’t miss.
Characters/Pairings: Yokoo/Fujigaya
Rating: R
Notes: Written for noella84 as part of a small mini exchange. I think I'm sadly calling this a wip as it’s a fraction of what I wanted to write for you but then I kept restarting over and over unhappy with it and real life became unmanageable but I just wanted to post something for you before it became two weeks late.
other (good proper completed) fics from the exchange: Arashijun - Kira - Mousapelli - Noepi - Luna_Truths - Dusk037
“What if we missed our chance?” Fujigaya asks out of nowhere - out of nowhere because he hasn’t spoken to Yokoo for almost an hour. Barely looked or glanced or acknowledge him. Instead Fujigaya sits hunched obscured mostly by hat and hair preoccupied in his own mind watching the ice melt in the glass then downing the drink in one gulp. But then it’s not out of nowhere because it’s a question that’s been haunting over all seven of them for days now since the announcement. Perhaps the dark clouds of doubt have been brooding heaviest over Fujigaya.
Yokoo only shrugs in response, unsure how to answer, or if Fujigaya even expected him to, he’s as much built on an unstable foundation of missed chances and unseized opportunities as the rest of them. There’s nothing encouraging he can say or promise that Fujigaya would believe, all he can do is sit and wait for Fujigaya to be done, to be ready to leave, to offer him a place to crash for the night so he won’t have to travel so far home alone. Thankfully tomorrow there is break from dance rehearsals, and even if it wasn’t, Yokoo himself in all airs of stern responsibility would contemplate calling in sick or feigning a pulled muscle the requires him to lay in bed with the weight off. He’s as tired as the rest of them of back-dancing watching from the shadows of a group of kids a fraction their age and height debuting.
Fujigaya calls another order to the bar and Yokoo echoes it and then they’re quiet again for another hour.
Some nights Fujigaya barely makes it the few stumbling tired steps from the genkan to the sofa before falling face first exhausted and some nights Yokoo barely has the front door of his apartment ajar before Fujigaya is pushing him aside still full of energy eager to raid Yokoo’s fridge and cupboards for well past midnight snacks. Sometimes he’s quiet still from the izakaya or sometimes he launches into long monologues on the topic of everything and anything and things he’ll only tell Yokoo in private. And some nights Fujigaya works himself into such a ball of high strung stress and energy he makes himself sick.
And then some nights, like tonight, there’s a beat of an awkward pause between them as they stand there in their socks hovering in the doorway barely a foot apart. Fujigaya watches through fallen bangs contemplating and Yokoo knows it’s coming before Fujigaya even leans in. They’ve kissed before, just that, just something sweet and quick and stable amongst all the shit and rubble, just something that says at least they’re in it together.
There’s a slip of Fujigaya’s tongue against Yokoo’s lower lip, and that’s a first, then Fujigaya’s arms wind their way around Yokoo’s neck adjusting the angle and holding them flush together and it’s never quite gone this far before but neither pull away. A voice in Yokoo’s says to go slow, to take their time, to make sure they’re certain, it’s reasonable and responsible and usually the voice Yokoo listens to everyday but every sense in his body is suddenly heightened and on fire screaming with a want for more so loud it drowns everything else out.
His nails dig into the flesh of Fujigaya’s hips, scrape the skin, but Fujigaya doesn’t wince or pull away or tell him to stop, he only moans wantonly egging him on. Fujigaya doesn’t seem to want to slow down either, they trip over one another’s feet as they barrel into Yokoo’s bedroom. They move in a blur that neither seem able to process, their hands bump and tangle getting in their own way as they slip through buttons and pull at jeans, Fujigaya ends up on his back, legs spread and Yokoo inbetween. Fujigaya pushes in a slick finger alongside Yokoo’s matching the pace then pushing them faster forward.
Yokoo worries that he holds too tight or thrusts too sharp and hard but he’s both shocked and simultaneously scared that he hasn’t lost Fujigaya yet, that they haven’t reshuffled groups and debuted Fujigaya and left him behind again.
“Do you think we missed our chance?” Fujigaya asks after. It’s barely above a soft whisper brushing against Yokoo’s ear this time and he almost misses it, drowned out by the fast thump of Fujigaya’s racing heart, his face pressed tight against Fujigaya’s sweat soaked chest, and Yokoo’s own ragged breath gasping for air. It’s just another question neither of them can answer.
Yokoo sticks to the edge of the bed, gives Fujigaya the lion’s share of the blankets and brushes gentle hands over any patches of exposed skin soothing down any goosebumps that appear. When sleep finally comes Yokoo dreams of being lost in the galaxy. It’s cold in the dark unknown of space and some part of Yokoo’s consciousness reflects that he shouldn’t be quite so stingy with the thermostat.
Like an ice comet Yokoo follows his own mindless path as he orbits around the outskirts similar to how he wanders around the dance studio brushing past planets and checking each member has stretched properly before rehearsal. The light of the sun catches his eye, as bright and warm as Fujigaya’s smile and Yokoo finds himself veering towards the centre attracted, the glow of the sun seared into his eyes.
Yokoo makes it as far in as Mercury before he crashes down, the icy exterior shell of the comet gone without a trace and the heat of the sun’s smile melts it away and seeps into his heart.
In the morning Yokoo wakes first and cooks breakfast, Fujigaya’s favourites, theorizing that maybe if he spoils the other enough it'll lessen the chance that he’ll regret that they had sex. He goes as far as to even serve breakfast in bed instead of forcing Fujigaya to drag himself sluggishly to the table. Yokoo can ignore the dropped crumbs and spilt coffee drips as he jokes and plays up to being funny and silly and even if Fujigaya calls him ridiculous it’s fine as long as he laughs and smiles for the first times in days.
Maybe they’ll be the one chance he won’t miss.