JE-united surprise fic for spacewhistler - Part 1/2
Gift fic for spacewhistler
Title: Sho - The Wedding Planner
Pairing: Ohno Satoshi/Sakurai Sho
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, implied sexy times
Summary: Sho, one of the best up and coming wedding planners, will organize this damn wedding if it’s the last damn thing he’ll ever do.
Notes: Dear spacewhistler, this is my offering to you. I have had so much fun with this and I hope this is even remotely something along the lines of what you wanted^^;; Happy reading! Thank you to the lovely, lovely N for betaing and basically saving my life <3
----
Okay, so if Sho wasn’t one hundred percent sure that his economic balance would never go into red again for the rest of his entire life, both professional and personal, he would drop this wedding as soon as the next possible instant presented itself.
First things first, facts to know about Sakurai Sho, 29, professional wedding planner:
In spite of literally everything that should prove otherwise, Sho actually loves his job. He loves it fiercely. He loves making arrangements and parties and people happy, he loves the look on the groom’s face when the bride shows up, he loves the look the bride gets in her eyes when she sees the completed gown for the first time, and most of all, he really just loves weddings. (In his private chambers - his head mainly - he also admits to liking having a gazillion things to think about and to organize, and he knows he’s a bit of a masochist for also sort of liking all the stress that comes with it, but hey, it makes him feel alive, so shut up.)
Second of all: there are few things Sho hates as much as really, really annoying grooms. He can deal with raving, frothing bridezillas from Hell’s inner (and outer) circles, and snooping, overbearing in-laws, avert any and all cake disasters with a wave of his almost-surgically attached phone, no problem, but annoying grooms can make Sho gnash his teeth more than his high school teacher that always wore mismatching floral prints on skirt and shirt and paired them with bright yellow pumps. Certain things are unforgettable and unforgivable.
Annoying grooms being one of those things.
Sho emerges from the meeting, in a controlled, professional state of fuming and wanting to kill the groom in the messiest way possible, no matter how sad the bride to be might become, but he thinks that at this point sacrifices for the greater good will have to be made, and it’s not like she looked like she seem happy with him this time around, anyway. Maybe Sho can get away with murder just this once. At least he knows a great lawyer if he ever finds himself in the dire need of one. Perhaps he should see if he could pencil in a meeting with him, just in case, because in all honesty, he isn’t sure he’ll survive one more meeting without there being a truly appalling amount of blood being shed, none of it his own.
He manages a smile that’s probably more of a growl in the end, when the bride and groom walk out of the room, and not even the fact that the bride is really beautiful and sweet (and strong-willed, but Sho has no problem with strong-willed as long as she’s not overbearing at the same time, and this bride isn’t) can make up for the fact that she’s marrying an idiot.
Her loss, really.
Sho has his phone to his ear, speed dialing two, before the door has even closed behind him, and he walks down the hallway at a brisk pace, already talking when the call gets picked up. “So I still kind of want to murder the groom,” Sho says, “and the bride seems to be annoyed with him as well, now. They couldn’t agree on the wine, and the flower arrangement they tentatively agreed on last week was disapproved this week. Then he suggested a buffet, a buffet, what is he thinking? They can’t have a buffet on the most important day of their lives! A buffet!”
“I think I got the general idea,” Nino says dryly on the other end, patient like a goddamn saint. “Having a buffet is a really bad idea.”
“It’s not just a bad idea, it’s the worst idea in the entire world, does he honestly expect the guests to balance food around? He doesn’t even realize the potential for disaster it is. Major disaster. If he insists on a buffet, I’ll be having a heart failure. On top of all of this, the band they wanted didn’t even call me back about the day of the wedding, and I can feel a headache coming. Now I have to find another band and I have a meeting with one at five. I would drop this wedding if I could afford it, fuck it.”
“Sho-chan, calm your ulcer, okay, you haven't talked this much since you got drunk on tequila,” Nino says. “You can do this.”
Sho stops, closes his eyes, counts to ten and breathes deeply. “Yes, thank you. I’ll go to the next wine tasting and then I have a meeting with a prospective client, I’ll call you later, okay?”
Nino, who unexpectedly is a voice of reason, one of Sho’s very favorite people and his best friend in the entire world, just says with a cheer that is meant all for the continued survival of Sho's sanity. “Do your best!”
Sho hangs up just as he gets to the street, and he climbs into his car, plugs in his headset as he starts the engine. Another day at the office. Just as he’s about to reverse the car, he gets a text, and thumbs it open, then winces an impressive grimace. He’s going to kill that groom before the wedding ever happens.
“If he wants techno at his wedding, it’ll be over my dead body,” Sho hisses and throws his phone to the passenger seat. “Damn it, fucking Akanishi.”
----
“You’re late,” is what Sho says when seven men scramble through the doorway, hauling instruments with them, chattering all over the place, and Sho seriously just wants to kill them all already. “Do you even realize that you’re late and that being late very well can cost you, not just this job, but also about every other future job, ever? Punctuality is well-appreciated in this business and in every other business in the world, actually.”
“Dude, chill, we're only twenty minutes late, it’s not that bad, it could be much, much worse,” one of the guitar players says, rolling his eyes, and Sho can feel his eye beginning to twitch. He counts to ten, continues and reaches as far as twenty-nine before he feels calm enough to speak.
“Twenty minutes is everything if you want a job, and isn’t your name Eighters?”
The long-haired guy narrows his eyes as he snaps, “What of it?”
Sho frowns. “There are seven of you.”
“No big deal, one of our singers is a tad hungover, he’ll be fine in time for the wedding, relax, dude, you’re seriously wound tight,” the guitar guy from before says, still rolling his eyes. “I’m Nishikido, by the way.”
“Nishikido,” Sho says tightly, “First of all, my name is Sakurai and not dude, so don’t dude me, and secondly, please just get on with it so I can listen to your music. Please, and thank you, some of us have a lot of things to do.”
The band grumbles but obeys nevertheless, and Sho privately thinks that they’re incredibly unpolished, and oh my god, how am I going to shape them into perfectly suitable wedding singers? Between the lead singer sporting hair that really needs to return to the decade it escaped from and the bass player making weird grimaces (perhaps he believes they’re funny faces? In any case, they need to go, like yesterday,) every five seconds, the drummer that looks increasingly sullen, Nishikido who looks more like he’s humping his guitar than playing it and the other guitar player wearing bright pink overalls and a clashing green fedora, Sho closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, god), he really doesn’t know how on earth he’ll be able to pull this off.
But they’re good. Rough, incredibly rough, yes, but good.
When they finish their third song, one third of the band is beaming at him, and he pinches the bridge of his nose again. He’ll be damned if he gives into Akanishi Jin’s wish of techno at his wedding. No way in frigid hell. If it means dealing with this, he’ll take it, grab it with both hands.
“You’re hired,” Sho says and holds a hand up to forestall any comments, adds, “on several conditions.” He points at the vocalist, “You, get your hair under control. And you,” he points to Nishikido, “stop having sex on stage, it’s a guitar. It’s also a wedding, not a cabaret. And you,” he raises both hands in a defeated gesture, trying to encompass the entire spectacle, “please, all of you, clean up your act. Toned down colors. You will rehearse properly and show up to the fittings I tell you to.”
They all nod, miraculously silent. Sho breathes and adds, lastly, “I’ll draft you a contract, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Is that agreeable?”
Nishikido and one of the two guys fiddling with the equipment exchange a glance. “I suppose. And then you could pull that stick out of your ass, too, I’m sure that would be agreeable.”
“Ryo-chan!” One of the equipment guys hisses and the drummer throws a drumstick at Nishikido, which he dodges expertly, apparently having practice in the art of evading drumsticks.
“For the sake of your future career, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” Sho allows magnanimously and turns on his heel, the last thing he hears before the door clicks shut behind him is the loud exclamation of pain, and he’s pretty sure the drummer didn’t miss this time.
With one more thing to tick off the to-do list, however, the band adds another few to it; etiquette (do they even know and abide by social norms or do they flap like sea lions when they want something?), approve the set list (or at least the repertoire), see if they can actually clean up, and most importantly, make Nishikido Ryo housebroken, maybe duct tape that mouth of his. It would certainly make the wedding party more colorful, but Sho actually values his reputation as one of the best.
As he walks back down the hallway, he checks his watch, yes, he has a lunch appointment with Akanishi Jin’s not-so blushing bride in an hour, and he thinks he can tell her the good news of finally having secured the music for the reception, if they would be so inclined to approve. Progress, at least, it would be one more thing off his hands. He mentally checks the inventory of his iPad; wine lists, check, caterers, check, his list of arguments against buffets, very much checked, and dear god, Sho really hopes that she’ll be able to talk some sense into that idiot groom of hers, or Sho might only get through the rest of preparations and the wedding itself on excessive doses of coffee and red bull as well as an unhealthy amount of anti-depressants.
The entire thought is terribly depressing in itself.
He promptly stops thinking about it, the cold air of winter hitting him straight in his face when he exits the building. It’s a slap in the face, quite literally: he hates winter. He locates his car, tries to speed walk there, juggling his bag and trying to find his car keys, and he trips and falls flat on his ass.
He takes a deep breath and tries not to scream. Seriously, is there some vindictive god somewhere that has set their eyes on him, he really doesn’t need this on top of everything else. He picks himself up, dusts his coat off (and his ass, damn it, he can almost hear that vengeful god somewhere cackling and pointing down at him, and he resists the urge to shake his fist at the sky) and finally gets into his car with a heartfelt sigh.
Okay, lunch appointment. He can do this.
----
Kuroki Meisa, starlet, model, actress, singer, entertainer, sweetheart of Japan. Sho is pretty sure that she was the one who convinced Akanishi, singer and recently-returned-to-Japan actor, to even consider Sho as their wedding planner, but whatever, he’s on it now and he’ll stay there, whatever it takes, annoying grooms be damned.
Kuroki Meisa is a beautiful, beautiful woman, that was the first thing Sho thought when he’d seen her the first time, like, one of those women that photographs truly don’t pay any justice to. She is also incredibly sweet with a wonderful, dry wit, and more than once Sho wonders how such a nice girl ends up with a guy like Akanishi Jin, but Sho is no matchmaker, he just makes the happiest days of their lives happen, so he keeps his mouth shut.
She looks lovely when she gets to the restaurant, smiling gently, and if Sho’s type had been anything even remotely female, he’d have been in trouble. As it is, he can just appreciate her stunning looks.
“Hello, Sakurai-san,” she greets and sits down, taking her sunglasses off. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was a straight up bitch.”
Kuroki Meisa is also not the delicate flower the media tries to paint her as. Sho finds that fact delightful. “It’s fine,” he says, meaning it, he had really been in need of just five minutes to take a breather. “I have a few things I would like to discuss with you.”
She quirks her lips, waves the waiter off when he tries to give her a menu. “I already know what I’m having, and that’s a salad,” she says to him, “and the biggest steak you can get me in ten minutes. I’m craving meat.” And then to Sho, “I thought that was the entire point of meeting up,” she quips, her dark eyes dangerously amused. Then she grins. “I’m kidding, sorry, I’ve been in a photo shoot all morning, I’m hungry and cranky. So, what do you have for me today, Sakurai-san?”
Sho orders as well and then turns back to her. “Well,” he says, “I have some new flower arrangements for the two of you to go over, just tell me which one you like best, all three of them go well with the rest of the color scheme, so that should be fine.”
She raises an eyebrow. “And if we don’t want any of them?”
“Then luckily there are still some florists left in Japan that I haven't tried,” he returns and pushes the file across the table.
“That sounds really good,” she approves and claps her hands a bit. “And then?”
“I’ve arranged a wine tasting for you, I just need your confirmation on the date and time. And I’ve also found you a band.”
Meisa looks thoroughly amused. “I did tell Jin-kun that I’m not having techno at my wedding. If I get to the reception and there is techno, it’ll be the shortest marriage ever as I’ll go straight to have it annulled.”
Fierce, Sho thinks with delight. “I’m glad we’re in agreement on that, but as I said, I’ve found a band. They’re good, but they need some work.”
“Oh?”
He really doesn’t want to elaborate on Eighters, because he doesn’t want to color her views on them before she’s even seen or heard them. “Just trust me on this, I’ll get them ready for you guys to approve or disapprove of sometime next week, is that something you can find the time for?”
“Sure,” she says, still obviously amused. “It’s my wedding. It’s my wedding. I’m pretty sure I can blow off anything for this. I think I should’ve worked that into my contract with a really small font.”
“Good,” Sho returns to his mental checklist. “And there’s also the issue of a photographer.”
She looks at him, questioning.
“If you want one, if there should be one, if you want more than one,” he lists, refraining from tapping at the table. “If you want one, I have a list of professionals and their portfolios so you can look through a collection of their work and then take your pick.”
“Ah,” she says, “Jin mentioned he knows a photographer. I can’t remember the name, but I’ll ask him and then send you the name, so you can see if he’s on your list of approved photographers. Will that be okay?”
Personally, Sho isn’t thrilled about working with people he hasn’t worked with before, but on the other hand, it’s pretty difficult to just blatantly reject the idea. At least this way, he has some time to work out something to say that sounds inoffensive when he tells them that he knows better photographers.
He nods and raises his glass of water. “To more planning?”
----
When Sho opens his email that night to find an email from Meisa, he opens it, stops, clicks the link and follows it to its destination.
He scrolls in horror.
Then he clicks back to the email, reads it again, then blinks, then promptly feels like smashing his head through the nearest available surface.
----
“Thank you so much,” Sho says, gripping his drink fiercely with both hands, “seriously.”
“I don’t know if you’re speaking to me or the drink,” Aiba says, grinning a bit. “But assuming it’s me, then you’re very welcome. I’m not really prone to ignoring your distress signals, am I? Especially one with the force of that SOS you just sent me.”
“No,” Sho admits, still holding on to his drink, the condensation on the glass making his palms clammy and cool. “But still, thank you. You didn’t have to, I know you’re busy.”
“Well, yes,” Aiba readily says, “but not too busy to have a drink with you. Or ten. So what’s up, which clients do you want to murder this time around and why? Disney theme? Tulle en masse? Taffeta? Phantom of the Opera?”
Sho shudders. “Do not remind me, I still have nightmares from that,” he orders and then swallows, hesitates. “It’s not the client, exactly,” he says finally, and Aiba raises both eyebrows in surprise. "Okay, it's exactly the client. I'm going to murder him."
Aiba is a good listener, he nods and looks like there's nothing he wants more than to hear Sho continue.
"He had a suggestion for the photographer, and he'd told Kuroki-san that it was a good one."
"And?"
The urge to smash his head through something rises again with alarming speed. "The link I got was to a Facebook profile that only had selfies of the guy doing duckfaces and something that looked like him humping a wall."
Aiba blinks. "Okay, whatever I expected you to say? This is way better."
Sho very slowly lowers his head to the table, then raises and begins thumping it down. Aiba's chuckle is gentle and amused and he places a sympathizing hand on Sho's shoulder. "So what's the deal? What are you going to do?"
Sho looks up warily. "I've already vetoed so many of his ridiculous suggestions, I'm not sure I can keep refusing his outright wish, even if the wedding pictures are going to look like a MySpace profile from the late nineties."
Aiba grins. “Sorry, I'll get back to your imminent demise and your professional meltdown in a second, but I’m still kind of mind blown that you’re working on the Akanishi-Kuroki wedding.”
Sho knows the feeling. He sighs. "I can't do this."
"You're always surprisingly dramatic," Aiba says fondly, clapping his shoulder and jerking Sho's hand in the process enough to almost spill his drink. "At least just talk to the guy? Maybe he has some talent hidden deep below the MySpace profile and the duckfaces."
"I sincerely doubt it," Sho says glumly. "I'm hoping that she hasn't actually checked the link herself or I'll be forced to reevaluate my entire worldview."
"Dramatic," Aiba repeats. "Maybe send her pictures he took and tell her they look really good and doesn't she agree?"
Sho can feel the horror manifest on his face. "She'll realize I have no taste."
Aiba blurts a laugh. "Can't have that, can we? Maybe just casually ask if she likes the photographer?"
Sho is pretty sure he's never done anything casually in his life, but he supposes he doesn't have that much of a choice this time. "I hate it when it's your turn to be the reasonable one."
"Well, Nino said you were well on your way to an ulcer when I talked to him earlier this week, so I figured it was my turn coming up. I prepared. Nino and I made cue cards."
"Of course you did," Sho says, finally feeling some of the tension leaving his shoulders - they don't feel like they're permanently situated above his ears anymore, at least. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me until you've read the cue cards," Aiba says, but he's grinning, and Sho thinks he can do this. Damn duckfaces.
----
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” Kame says again, cool and collected.
Sho counts to ten. “And why not?”
“That’s none of your fucking business, really,” Kame snaps, crossing his arms. “I’m just not going to do it. I don’t feel like it.”
“You don’t feel like it? That’s kind of a horrible excuse,” Sho frowns, already mentally drafting up several new back up plans, because he really hadn’t counted on Kame being difficult about this. He sighs and doesn’t even care if Kame sees it, they’ve known each other for years at this point. Kame is usually a little bit difficult about things, to be entirely honest, he’s a lot difficult about most things actually, but the thing is that he’s good at his job. He’s good at his job in the way Sho is good at his job - sometimes he hates it fiercely, but even when he’s angry and frothing, he’s still amazing at it, and even when he doesn’t like it, he still loves it. “Are you just trying to give me grey hairs by being difficult because you can or do you actually have a good reason to be difficult?”
Kame narrows his eyes. Uh oh.
“I just mean,” Sho says, narrowing his eyes right back, “you would be doing me one hell of a favor, but also, it would be fantastic for your career to handle such a high profile wedding. Come on, it would be good for you.”
“I’m pretty sure it won’t be good for me,” Kame says through gritted teeth, posture tense. “But I will do it, okay? Let me be really clear about this, though, I’m not doing it for you or the happy couple, I’m doing it for the money.”
“Not for me, not for the happy couple but for the money, honestly I don’t care, but thank you anyway,” Sho says and holds his hands up in surrender, filing away the backup plans he has half-formed already, not abandoning them because they are always good to have just in case things fuck up. Things inevitably fuck up, Sho sometimes thinks that his life is the walking epitome of Murphy’s law (or a freaking Kafka novel, but really), but so far, he’s keeping his fingers crossed for this to hold, it would seriously make his life a hell of a lot easier. “Seriously, thank you. I’ll keep you posted about the contract and the timetable.”
Kame waves him off, already turning away, and Sho doesn’t push his luck, just thanks him again before backing out, and if he did a bit of a fist pump it’s his own damn business. It just feels really good when plan A works out the way it’s supposed to.
----
Three days later, Sho has arranged for Akanishi and Kuroki to meet Kame, so Kame can help them with their first dance, and Sho thinks that for once, he can breathe and tend to some other issues while the happy couple laugh and blush and giggle and learn how to not step on each others' toes. Not that that usually seems to be a problem on the big day, as Sho has observed that most of the newlyweds are way too preoccupied by each other to notice a few broken toes, but Sho likes to get things done properly, preferably on the first try, too.
Both Akanishi and Kuroki show up on time and they even appear to be relaxed and Akanishi seems to be in less of an asshole mode than he usually is (sullen, annoyed, like he wants the ground to swallow him up) and even seems like he's actually looking forward to the day.
Of course, with good omens like that, it can't possibly turn out well.
Sho really should've been smarter by now, but the moment of almost perfection is shattered when Kame walks into the room. He lays one look at Akanishi and his entire demeanor turns sour, and he says out of the corner of his mouth, "Sakurai-san, I'm really sorry, but no fucking way."
He backtracks out of the door and it slams behind him.
Sho blinks.
Akanishi blinks.
Kuroki blinks.
"Oh shit," Akanishi says and now Kuroki looks pissed when she says, "You said it wasn't going to be a problem."
"How could I’ve known that he would turn out to be the choreographer for our wedding?!" Akanishi exclaims then winces when it appears that Kuroki seems to be able to draw upon hellfire and demons when she gets angry. If Sho squints, he's sure he can see smoke coming out of her ears.
"You fix that or I'm not dancing with you," she threatens. "Or so help me I'll make you wear nothing but a surfboard when your parents get here."
Akanishi pales and whips out his phone. "Right you are, darling," he says and practically leaps from the room so fast Sho could have sworn he teleported.
"I'm really sorry," Sho apologizes even though he is a million percent confused as to what is happening. Should he be apologizing? Should he go get Kame by the scruff of his neck (not happening) and demand that he apologize (not happening either)?
"No," Kuroki says on a long suffering sigh while she rubs her forehead in a gesture that speaks of long practice with inconvenient headaches. "My fiancé has an unfortunate habit of burning bridges."
She leaves it at that and Sho doesn't ask, his job sort of banks on the fact that he can keep his mouth shut when necessary. "So we're in need of a choreographer."
"Sorry," she apologizes. "Maybe we can just skip it? We're both really, really good at the swaying back and forth like teenagers dance. Is that okay? Okay, no, you know what, forget about it, sorry," she adds when Sho is sure his eye tick is performing a massive and insistent dance on his eyeball.
Okay, he can do this, he had half-formed plans B through Z from when he'd thought Kame wouldn't say yes in the first place. Which, it seems, Sho was right to cultivate, and to be honest, Sho's plans have plans, he doesn't like being caught off guard.
"Well shit," Kuroki swears and still looks like a complete angel. "Can you wing this? I need to go now that my fiancé isn't even in the building anymore, so I should probably go back and pretend that one of us is actually a professional. Damn it."
"I'll do my best," Sho promises, because he always does and seriously, he's fought tooth and nail for the sort of reputation he has now (promising, successful, on the rise), and he will make this work even if he has to watch Youtube videos for six days straight and teach them himself. He will manage it.
----
Part 2
Title: Sho - The Wedding Planner
Pairing: Ohno Satoshi/Sakurai Sho
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, implied sexy times
Summary: Sho, one of the best up and coming wedding planners, will organize this damn wedding if it’s the last damn thing he’ll ever do.
Notes: Dear spacewhistler, this is my offering to you. I have had so much fun with this and I hope this is even remotely something along the lines of what you wanted^^;; Happy reading! Thank you to the lovely, lovely N for betaing and basically saving my life <3
----
Okay, so if Sho wasn’t one hundred percent sure that his economic balance would never go into red again for the rest of his entire life, both professional and personal, he would drop this wedding as soon as the next possible instant presented itself.
First things first, facts to know about Sakurai Sho, 29, professional wedding planner:
In spite of literally everything that should prove otherwise, Sho actually loves his job. He loves it fiercely. He loves making arrangements and parties and people happy, he loves the look on the groom’s face when the bride shows up, he loves the look the bride gets in her eyes when she sees the completed gown for the first time, and most of all, he really just loves weddings. (In his private chambers - his head mainly - he also admits to liking having a gazillion things to think about and to organize, and he knows he’s a bit of a masochist for also sort of liking all the stress that comes with it, but hey, it makes him feel alive, so shut up.)
Second of all: there are few things Sho hates as much as really, really annoying grooms. He can deal with raving, frothing bridezillas from Hell’s inner (and outer) circles, and snooping, overbearing in-laws, avert any and all cake disasters with a wave of his almost-surgically attached phone, no problem, but annoying grooms can make Sho gnash his teeth more than his high school teacher that always wore mismatching floral prints on skirt and shirt and paired them with bright yellow pumps. Certain things are unforgettable and unforgivable.
Annoying grooms being one of those things.
Sho emerges from the meeting, in a controlled, professional state of fuming and wanting to kill the groom in the messiest way possible, no matter how sad the bride to be might become, but he thinks that at this point sacrifices for the greater good will have to be made, and it’s not like she looked like she seem happy with him this time around, anyway. Maybe Sho can get away with murder just this once. At least he knows a great lawyer if he ever finds himself in the dire need of one. Perhaps he should see if he could pencil in a meeting with him, just in case, because in all honesty, he isn’t sure he’ll survive one more meeting without there being a truly appalling amount of blood being shed, none of it his own.
He manages a smile that’s probably more of a growl in the end, when the bride and groom walk out of the room, and not even the fact that the bride is really beautiful and sweet (and strong-willed, but Sho has no problem with strong-willed as long as she’s not overbearing at the same time, and this bride isn’t) can make up for the fact that she’s marrying an idiot.
Her loss, really.
Sho has his phone to his ear, speed dialing two, before the door has even closed behind him, and he walks down the hallway at a brisk pace, already talking when the call gets picked up. “So I still kind of want to murder the groom,” Sho says, “and the bride seems to be annoyed with him as well, now. They couldn’t agree on the wine, and the flower arrangement they tentatively agreed on last week was disapproved this week. Then he suggested a buffet, a buffet, what is he thinking? They can’t have a buffet on the most important day of their lives! A buffet!”
“I think I got the general idea,” Nino says dryly on the other end, patient like a goddamn saint. “Having a buffet is a really bad idea.”
“It’s not just a bad idea, it’s the worst idea in the entire world, does he honestly expect the guests to balance food around? He doesn’t even realize the potential for disaster it is. Major disaster. If he insists on a buffet, I’ll be having a heart failure. On top of all of this, the band they wanted didn’t even call me back about the day of the wedding, and I can feel a headache coming. Now I have to find another band and I have a meeting with one at five. I would drop this wedding if I could afford it, fuck it.”
“Sho-chan, calm your ulcer, okay, you haven't talked this much since you got drunk on tequila,” Nino says. “You can do this.”
Sho stops, closes his eyes, counts to ten and breathes deeply. “Yes, thank you. I’ll go to the next wine tasting and then I have a meeting with a prospective client, I’ll call you later, okay?”
Nino, who unexpectedly is a voice of reason, one of Sho’s very favorite people and his best friend in the entire world, just says with a cheer that is meant all for the continued survival of Sho's sanity. “Do your best!”
Sho hangs up just as he gets to the street, and he climbs into his car, plugs in his headset as he starts the engine. Another day at the office. Just as he’s about to reverse the car, he gets a text, and thumbs it open, then winces an impressive grimace. He’s going to kill that groom before the wedding ever happens.
“If he wants techno at his wedding, it’ll be over my dead body,” Sho hisses and throws his phone to the passenger seat. “Damn it, fucking Akanishi.”
----
“You’re late,” is what Sho says when seven men scramble through the doorway, hauling instruments with them, chattering all over the place, and Sho seriously just wants to kill them all already. “Do you even realize that you’re late and that being late very well can cost you, not just this job, but also about every other future job, ever? Punctuality is well-appreciated in this business and in every other business in the world, actually.”
“Dude, chill, we're only twenty minutes late, it’s not that bad, it could be much, much worse,” one of the guitar players says, rolling his eyes, and Sho can feel his eye beginning to twitch. He counts to ten, continues and reaches as far as twenty-nine before he feels calm enough to speak.
“Twenty minutes is everything if you want a job, and isn’t your name Eighters?”
The long-haired guy narrows his eyes as he snaps, “What of it?”
Sho frowns. “There are seven of you.”
“No big deal, one of our singers is a tad hungover, he’ll be fine in time for the wedding, relax, dude, you’re seriously wound tight,” the guitar guy from before says, still rolling his eyes. “I’m Nishikido, by the way.”
“Nishikido,” Sho says tightly, “First of all, my name is Sakurai and not dude, so don’t dude me, and secondly, please just get on with it so I can listen to your music. Please, and thank you, some of us have a lot of things to do.”
The band grumbles but obeys nevertheless, and Sho privately thinks that they’re incredibly unpolished, and oh my god, how am I going to shape them into perfectly suitable wedding singers? Between the lead singer sporting hair that really needs to return to the decade it escaped from and the bass player making weird grimaces (perhaps he believes they’re funny faces? In any case, they need to go, like yesterday,) every five seconds, the drummer that looks increasingly sullen, Nishikido who looks more like he’s humping his guitar than playing it and the other guitar player wearing bright pink overalls and a clashing green fedora, Sho closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, god), he really doesn’t know how on earth he’ll be able to pull this off.
But they’re good. Rough, incredibly rough, yes, but good.
When they finish their third song, one third of the band is beaming at him, and he pinches the bridge of his nose again. He’ll be damned if he gives into Akanishi Jin’s wish of techno at his wedding. No way in frigid hell. If it means dealing with this, he’ll take it, grab it with both hands.
“You’re hired,” Sho says and holds a hand up to forestall any comments, adds, “on several conditions.” He points at the vocalist, “You, get your hair under control. And you,” he points to Nishikido, “stop having sex on stage, it’s a guitar. It’s also a wedding, not a cabaret. And you,” he raises both hands in a defeated gesture, trying to encompass the entire spectacle, “please, all of you, clean up your act. Toned down colors. You will rehearse properly and show up to the fittings I tell you to.”
They all nod, miraculously silent. Sho breathes and adds, lastly, “I’ll draft you a contract, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Is that agreeable?”
Nishikido and one of the two guys fiddling with the equipment exchange a glance. “I suppose. And then you could pull that stick out of your ass, too, I’m sure that would be agreeable.”
“Ryo-chan!” One of the equipment guys hisses and the drummer throws a drumstick at Nishikido, which he dodges expertly, apparently having practice in the art of evading drumsticks.
“For the sake of your future career, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” Sho allows magnanimously and turns on his heel, the last thing he hears before the door clicks shut behind him is the loud exclamation of pain, and he’s pretty sure the drummer didn’t miss this time.
With one more thing to tick off the to-do list, however, the band adds another few to it; etiquette (do they even know and abide by social norms or do they flap like sea lions when they want something?), approve the set list (or at least the repertoire), see if they can actually clean up, and most importantly, make Nishikido Ryo housebroken, maybe duct tape that mouth of his. It would certainly make the wedding party more colorful, but Sho actually values his reputation as one of the best.
As he walks back down the hallway, he checks his watch, yes, he has a lunch appointment with Akanishi Jin’s not-so blushing bride in an hour, and he thinks he can tell her the good news of finally having secured the music for the reception, if they would be so inclined to approve. Progress, at least, it would be one more thing off his hands. He mentally checks the inventory of his iPad; wine lists, check, caterers, check, his list of arguments against buffets, very much checked, and dear god, Sho really hopes that she’ll be able to talk some sense into that idiot groom of hers, or Sho might only get through the rest of preparations and the wedding itself on excessive doses of coffee and red bull as well as an unhealthy amount of anti-depressants.
The entire thought is terribly depressing in itself.
He promptly stops thinking about it, the cold air of winter hitting him straight in his face when he exits the building. It’s a slap in the face, quite literally: he hates winter. He locates his car, tries to speed walk there, juggling his bag and trying to find his car keys, and he trips and falls flat on his ass.
He takes a deep breath and tries not to scream. Seriously, is there some vindictive god somewhere that has set their eyes on him, he really doesn’t need this on top of everything else. He picks himself up, dusts his coat off (and his ass, damn it, he can almost hear that vengeful god somewhere cackling and pointing down at him, and he resists the urge to shake his fist at the sky) and finally gets into his car with a heartfelt sigh.
Okay, lunch appointment. He can do this.
----
Kuroki Meisa, starlet, model, actress, singer, entertainer, sweetheart of Japan. Sho is pretty sure that she was the one who convinced Akanishi, singer and recently-returned-to-Japan actor, to even consider Sho as their wedding planner, but whatever, he’s on it now and he’ll stay there, whatever it takes, annoying grooms be damned.
Kuroki Meisa is a beautiful, beautiful woman, that was the first thing Sho thought when he’d seen her the first time, like, one of those women that photographs truly don’t pay any justice to. She is also incredibly sweet with a wonderful, dry wit, and more than once Sho wonders how such a nice girl ends up with a guy like Akanishi Jin, but Sho is no matchmaker, he just makes the happiest days of their lives happen, so he keeps his mouth shut.
She looks lovely when she gets to the restaurant, smiling gently, and if Sho’s type had been anything even remotely female, he’d have been in trouble. As it is, he can just appreciate her stunning looks.
“Hello, Sakurai-san,” she greets and sits down, taking her sunglasses off. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was a straight up bitch.”
Kuroki Meisa is also not the delicate flower the media tries to paint her as. Sho finds that fact delightful. “It’s fine,” he says, meaning it, he had really been in need of just five minutes to take a breather. “I have a few things I would like to discuss with you.”
She quirks her lips, waves the waiter off when he tries to give her a menu. “I already know what I’m having, and that’s a salad,” she says to him, “and the biggest steak you can get me in ten minutes. I’m craving meat.” And then to Sho, “I thought that was the entire point of meeting up,” she quips, her dark eyes dangerously amused. Then she grins. “I’m kidding, sorry, I’ve been in a photo shoot all morning, I’m hungry and cranky. So, what do you have for me today, Sakurai-san?”
Sho orders as well and then turns back to her. “Well,” he says, “I have some new flower arrangements for the two of you to go over, just tell me which one you like best, all three of them go well with the rest of the color scheme, so that should be fine.”
She raises an eyebrow. “And if we don’t want any of them?”
“Then luckily there are still some florists left in Japan that I haven't tried,” he returns and pushes the file across the table.
“That sounds really good,” she approves and claps her hands a bit. “And then?”
“I’ve arranged a wine tasting for you, I just need your confirmation on the date and time. And I’ve also found you a band.”
Meisa looks thoroughly amused. “I did tell Jin-kun that I’m not having techno at my wedding. If I get to the reception and there is techno, it’ll be the shortest marriage ever as I’ll go straight to have it annulled.”
Fierce, Sho thinks with delight. “I’m glad we’re in agreement on that, but as I said, I’ve found a band. They’re good, but they need some work.”
“Oh?”
He really doesn’t want to elaborate on Eighters, because he doesn’t want to color her views on them before she’s even seen or heard them. “Just trust me on this, I’ll get them ready for you guys to approve or disapprove of sometime next week, is that something you can find the time for?”
“Sure,” she says, still obviously amused. “It’s my wedding. It’s my wedding. I’m pretty sure I can blow off anything for this. I think I should’ve worked that into my contract with a really small font.”
“Good,” Sho returns to his mental checklist. “And there’s also the issue of a photographer.”
She looks at him, questioning.
“If you want one, if there should be one, if you want more than one,” he lists, refraining from tapping at the table. “If you want one, I have a list of professionals and their portfolios so you can look through a collection of their work and then take your pick.”
“Ah,” she says, “Jin mentioned he knows a photographer. I can’t remember the name, but I’ll ask him and then send you the name, so you can see if he’s on your list of approved photographers. Will that be okay?”
Personally, Sho isn’t thrilled about working with people he hasn’t worked with before, but on the other hand, it’s pretty difficult to just blatantly reject the idea. At least this way, he has some time to work out something to say that sounds inoffensive when he tells them that he knows better photographers.
He nods and raises his glass of water. “To more planning?”
----
When Sho opens his email that night to find an email from Meisa, he opens it, stops, clicks the link and follows it to its destination.
He scrolls in horror.
Then he clicks back to the email, reads it again, then blinks, then promptly feels like smashing his head through the nearest available surface.
----
“Thank you so much,” Sho says, gripping his drink fiercely with both hands, “seriously.”
“I don’t know if you’re speaking to me or the drink,” Aiba says, grinning a bit. “But assuming it’s me, then you’re very welcome. I’m not really prone to ignoring your distress signals, am I? Especially one with the force of that SOS you just sent me.”
“No,” Sho admits, still holding on to his drink, the condensation on the glass making his palms clammy and cool. “But still, thank you. You didn’t have to, I know you’re busy.”
“Well, yes,” Aiba readily says, “but not too busy to have a drink with you. Or ten. So what’s up, which clients do you want to murder this time around and why? Disney theme? Tulle en masse? Taffeta? Phantom of the Opera?”
Sho shudders. “Do not remind me, I still have nightmares from that,” he orders and then swallows, hesitates. “It’s not the client, exactly,” he says finally, and Aiba raises both eyebrows in surprise. "Okay, it's exactly the client. I'm going to murder him."
Aiba is a good listener, he nods and looks like there's nothing he wants more than to hear Sho continue.
"He had a suggestion for the photographer, and he'd told Kuroki-san that it was a good one."
"And?"
The urge to smash his head through something rises again with alarming speed. "The link I got was to a Facebook profile that only had selfies of the guy doing duckfaces and something that looked like him humping a wall."
Aiba blinks. "Okay, whatever I expected you to say? This is way better."
Sho very slowly lowers his head to the table, then raises and begins thumping it down. Aiba's chuckle is gentle and amused and he places a sympathizing hand on Sho's shoulder. "So what's the deal? What are you going to do?"
Sho looks up warily. "I've already vetoed so many of his ridiculous suggestions, I'm not sure I can keep refusing his outright wish, even if the wedding pictures are going to look like a MySpace profile from the late nineties."
Aiba grins. “Sorry, I'll get back to your imminent demise and your professional meltdown in a second, but I’m still kind of mind blown that you’re working on the Akanishi-Kuroki wedding.”
Sho knows the feeling. He sighs. "I can't do this."
"You're always surprisingly dramatic," Aiba says fondly, clapping his shoulder and jerking Sho's hand in the process enough to almost spill his drink. "At least just talk to the guy? Maybe he has some talent hidden deep below the MySpace profile and the duckfaces."
"I sincerely doubt it," Sho says glumly. "I'm hoping that she hasn't actually checked the link herself or I'll be forced to reevaluate my entire worldview."
"Dramatic," Aiba repeats. "Maybe send her pictures he took and tell her they look really good and doesn't she agree?"
Sho can feel the horror manifest on his face. "She'll realize I have no taste."
Aiba blurts a laugh. "Can't have that, can we? Maybe just casually ask if she likes the photographer?"
Sho is pretty sure he's never done anything casually in his life, but he supposes he doesn't have that much of a choice this time. "I hate it when it's your turn to be the reasonable one."
"Well, Nino said you were well on your way to an ulcer when I talked to him earlier this week, so I figured it was my turn coming up. I prepared. Nino and I made cue cards."
"Of course you did," Sho says, finally feeling some of the tension leaving his shoulders - they don't feel like they're permanently situated above his ears anymore, at least. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me until you've read the cue cards," Aiba says, but he's grinning, and Sho thinks he can do this. Damn duckfaces.
----
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” Kame says again, cool and collected.
Sho counts to ten. “And why not?”
“That’s none of your fucking business, really,” Kame snaps, crossing his arms. “I’m just not going to do it. I don’t feel like it.”
“You don’t feel like it? That’s kind of a horrible excuse,” Sho frowns, already mentally drafting up several new back up plans, because he really hadn’t counted on Kame being difficult about this. He sighs and doesn’t even care if Kame sees it, they’ve known each other for years at this point. Kame is usually a little bit difficult about things, to be entirely honest, he’s a lot difficult about most things actually, but the thing is that he’s good at his job. He’s good at his job in the way Sho is good at his job - sometimes he hates it fiercely, but even when he’s angry and frothing, he’s still amazing at it, and even when he doesn’t like it, he still loves it. “Are you just trying to give me grey hairs by being difficult because you can or do you actually have a good reason to be difficult?”
Kame narrows his eyes. Uh oh.
“I just mean,” Sho says, narrowing his eyes right back, “you would be doing me one hell of a favor, but also, it would be fantastic for your career to handle such a high profile wedding. Come on, it would be good for you.”
“I’m pretty sure it won’t be good for me,” Kame says through gritted teeth, posture tense. “But I will do it, okay? Let me be really clear about this, though, I’m not doing it for you or the happy couple, I’m doing it for the money.”
“Not for me, not for the happy couple but for the money, honestly I don’t care, but thank you anyway,” Sho says and holds his hands up in surrender, filing away the backup plans he has half-formed already, not abandoning them because they are always good to have just in case things fuck up. Things inevitably fuck up, Sho sometimes thinks that his life is the walking epitome of Murphy’s law (or a freaking Kafka novel, but really), but so far, he’s keeping his fingers crossed for this to hold, it would seriously make his life a hell of a lot easier. “Seriously, thank you. I’ll keep you posted about the contract and the timetable.”
Kame waves him off, already turning away, and Sho doesn’t push his luck, just thanks him again before backing out, and if he did a bit of a fist pump it’s his own damn business. It just feels really good when plan A works out the way it’s supposed to.
----
Three days later, Sho has arranged for Akanishi and Kuroki to meet Kame, so Kame can help them with their first dance, and Sho thinks that for once, he can breathe and tend to some other issues while the happy couple laugh and blush and giggle and learn how to not step on each others' toes. Not that that usually seems to be a problem on the big day, as Sho has observed that most of the newlyweds are way too preoccupied by each other to notice a few broken toes, but Sho likes to get things done properly, preferably on the first try, too.
Both Akanishi and Kuroki show up on time and they even appear to be relaxed and Akanishi seems to be in less of an asshole mode than he usually is (sullen, annoyed, like he wants the ground to swallow him up) and even seems like he's actually looking forward to the day.
Of course, with good omens like that, it can't possibly turn out well.
Sho really should've been smarter by now, but the moment of almost perfection is shattered when Kame walks into the room. He lays one look at Akanishi and his entire demeanor turns sour, and he says out of the corner of his mouth, "Sakurai-san, I'm really sorry, but no fucking way."
He backtracks out of the door and it slams behind him.
Sho blinks.
Akanishi blinks.
Kuroki blinks.
"Oh shit," Akanishi says and now Kuroki looks pissed when she says, "You said it wasn't going to be a problem."
"How could I’ve known that he would turn out to be the choreographer for our wedding?!" Akanishi exclaims then winces when it appears that Kuroki seems to be able to draw upon hellfire and demons when she gets angry. If Sho squints, he's sure he can see smoke coming out of her ears.
"You fix that or I'm not dancing with you," she threatens. "Or so help me I'll make you wear nothing but a surfboard when your parents get here."
Akanishi pales and whips out his phone. "Right you are, darling," he says and practically leaps from the room so fast Sho could have sworn he teleported.
"I'm really sorry," Sho apologizes even though he is a million percent confused as to what is happening. Should he be apologizing? Should he go get Kame by the scruff of his neck (not happening) and demand that he apologize (not happening either)?
"No," Kuroki says on a long suffering sigh while she rubs her forehead in a gesture that speaks of long practice with inconvenient headaches. "My fiancé has an unfortunate habit of burning bridges."
She leaves it at that and Sho doesn't ask, his job sort of banks on the fact that he can keep his mouth shut when necessary. "So we're in need of a choreographer."
"Sorry," she apologizes. "Maybe we can just skip it? We're both really, really good at the swaying back and forth like teenagers dance. Is that okay? Okay, no, you know what, forget about it, sorry," she adds when Sho is sure his eye tick is performing a massive and insistent dance on his eyeball.
Okay, he can do this, he had half-formed plans B through Z from when he'd thought Kame wouldn't say yes in the first place. Which, it seems, Sho was right to cultivate, and to be honest, Sho's plans have plans, he doesn't like being caught off guard.
"Well shit," Kuroki swears and still looks like a complete angel. "Can you wing this? I need to go now that my fiancé isn't even in the building anymore, so I should probably go back and pretend that one of us is actually a professional. Damn it."
"I'll do my best," Sho promises, because he always does and seriously, he's fought tooth and nail for the sort of reputation he has now (promising, successful, on the rise), and he will make this work even if he has to watch Youtube videos for six days straight and teach them himself. He will manage it.
----
Part 2