[One-shot] A face on a lover with a fire in his heart (Socks to be me)
Title: A face on a lover with a fire in his heart (Socks to be me)
Groups/Pairings: Kisumai - KitaFuji (main), NiSen, MiyaTama, former Fujigaya/XXX-kun, vague mention of Yokoo/KKKitty
Rating: PG
Summary: AU - When Fujigaya finds himself alone on Christmas Eve with no socks, he sets out to find something that will distract him. He finds socks and the rather unexpected companionship of Crazy Rainbow's bartender.
Disclaimer: This work is purely fiction.
Warnings: None.
A/N: For elindar ♥ I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK... A YEAR. D8 And it sort of morphed from your prompt, but. ;; I hope it is to your tastes? Special thanks to omoikkiri for bashing my head in until this fic was finished (and for dealing with all my wonderful grammatical flubs ♥) Inspired, in a roundabout way, by Last Christmas (preferably by Savage Garden or Cascada. 8D/) Enjoy! ♥♥♥ Also recommended to listen to is No.1 Friend for obvious reasons.
Probably Fujigaya should have put socks on hours ago, but he didn’t want to. Instead, he tucked his chilled feet in between the cushions of the couch, and his hands in the confines of an over-large sweater, as he watched Senga rush around the house like a headless chicken. Though Senga had known his holiday agenda, he had chosen to put off packing until the day of, when Nikaido had already arrived.
“How much stuff do you even really need to take?” Nikaido said, eyeing where Senga was digging around the bucket of odd socks that Yokoo kept in the corner of the main room. “We’re going to your house, aren’t we?”
“Right, but…” Senga held up the third pair of high top sneakers that he’d snatched up from floor for consideration, then dropped them back on the floor. The once-clean floor (Yokoo’s doing) was littered with bits and pieces of Senga’s wardrobe, while his backpack lay empty nearby.
Yokoo would probably throw a fit if he saw, but as Yokoo had left the day before for his own holiday trip, it wasn’t really going to be a problem for the time being. And, Fujigaya reasoned, it was Senga’s problem anyway.
“We’re just going for a day or two, you don’t need to pack your life up,” Nikaido said, exasperated.
Knowing that they’d all get nowhere if things were left in Senga’s hands, Fujigaya pointed at Senga’s favorite jeans and two shirts. “Those ones. And your silver leopard print shoes. Take those ones.”
Obediently stooping to sweep the selected items into his backpack, Senga paused, glancing at Fujigaya before zipping up his backpack. “Are you sure?” he asked, and it was such an oft-repeated question that Fujigaya already knew he wasn’t referring to the clothes.
“I’ll be fine,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m twenty-two, I can take care of myself alone.”
“Yeah, but it’s Christmas Eve!” Senga pouted. “You shouldn’t be alone during Christmas and all. Maybe we could come back up early…?”
“Gaya can take care of himself, Kento.” Nikaido came to Fujigaya’s rescue, beckoning to his boyfriend. “And we have to get going, otherwise we’re never even going to get to Nagoya at this point.”
Though Senga seemed reluctant, he shuffled over to give Fujigaya one last hug, “Talk to you soon, Taipi!”
Ushering Senga out the door, Nikaido threw Fujigaya a quick salute. “Laters.”
There was silence for a good five minutes before the bathroom door opened, and Tamamori snuck his head out, glancing around. “I am not cleaning that up,” he said, indicating the explosion of clothing in the middle of the room.
Laughing, Fujigaya shook his head. “I know,” he said, rearranging his feet and tucking them beneath him properly. He really should get those socks. “When is Miyacchi getting here?”
“Soon.”
All Tamamori had wanted for Christmas was to be spirited away to somewhere “really special.” Miyata couldn’t afford it, so they compromised. A getaway night to an onsen and Tamamori seemed pleased enough.
“Soon” turned out to be ten minutes later, with a brisk knock on the door. Fujigaya kept his feet tucked underneath him and let Tamamori answer the door.
“Tama-chan~!” Miyata lit up as soon as the door opened. Tamamori just snorted, pulling him out of the winter cold. As soon as the door was kicked shut, Tamamori’s mouth was hot and firm on Miyata’s. Fujigaya rolled his eyes.
He wasn’t being sour. He wasn’t. It was just something he didn’t want shoved in his face (even if he knew had things been different, had he been Tamamori, it’d be the same way.)
Once the two of them parted, Miyata turned his grin to Fujigaya, waving. “Hey, Taipi~! Are you off soon too?”
“He’s staying,” Tamamori said.
“Ehh? So is Yokoo staying here too?” Miyata peered around curious, but Fujigaya was already shaking his head, amused in a self-disparaging way.
“Nah, he’s spending it with some old friends.” When Miyata gave him a genuinely concerned look, Fujigaya threw his hands up. “There’s nothing wrong with me being here alone! I won’t blow up the apartment, I promise!”
Miyata hesitated, looking between Tamamori and Fujigaya before opening his mouth.
“No,” they said in tandem before he could say anything.
“We should be going,” Tamamori said firmly, steering Miyata towards the doorway. Unlike Senga, Tamamori had packed ahead of time. “We’ll be back tomorrow, maybe.”
Fujigaya waved them both away, shaking his head in bemusement. “Have fun~.”
The door clicked shut and then he was finally, finally alone.
He sighed, pressing his palms to his cheeks in dejection, the facade slowly slipping and fading now that he was truly alone in the apartment. Senga’s mess was strewn all over the room and even that served as a small reminder that Fujigaya really was going to spend Christmas Eve on his own.
It was his own fault, probably. But his roommates had all made other plans and his parents had decided to run off to the U.S. for a much deserved vacation with his two younger brothers and there was just nobody else... At least not anyone he wanted to spend Christmas with, in any case.
He reminded himself it wasn’t the end of the world, but that just felt like the sort of thing arrogantly insecure people told themselves when things didn’t go their way. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it wasn’t… anything else, either. But that was probably what bothered him the most. He wanted it to be something.
Reaching into his shirt’s front pocket, he pulled out his phone. He felt a wave of disappointment when he saw there were no messages of any sort waiting for him, even if he’d known it was going to be like that.
He idly traced his fingers over the screen, shifting on the couch so his legs were crossed beneath him. He knew what he was waiting for but he also knew it wasn’t going to happen. But knowing didn’t mean he didn’t wish it would, and so he continued to skim through his phone, waiting.
It wasn’t until his toes were freezing and his left foot had fallen asleep that Fujigaya realized how much time had really passed. Several hours at this point, and he winced as he rubbed feeling back into his foot. He was wasting his Christmas Eve away doing nothing, all because he didn’t want to do anything alone.
He finally hauled himself up off the couch to get some socks, all the while scolding himself for being such a wuss. Just because he was on his own didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the well deserved holiday. He was on break and his noisy housemates weren’t around. It wasn’t that bad, was it? It didn’t matter that all of his plans had been ruined by a boy he did not particularly wish to name, in any case.
Right?
But the silence of the walls surrounding him and the ever so still phone in his pocket was answer enough and he quickly changed tracks, veering away from his room to the coat closet, taking out his favorite lined leather jacket and grabbing a pair of boots. Socks be damned, he needed to get out of this apartment.
The cold hit him the moment he stepped outside, his breath coming out in a puff of surprise. It was dark now but the streets were lit, and the snow that had fallen earlier that day glittered on the pavement.
Shoving chilled fingers deep into his pockets, Fujigaya headed down the street, not really sure where he was going but not really thinking about it either. While not crowded, the streets weren’t empty either, and everywhere he looked, it was either families laughing and joking, groups of friends, or a Christmas couple swinging hands between them. Though he knew nobody else noticed, he felt out of place, like an outsider looking in, and it deepened his dismal mood.
Digging his hands deeper into his pockets, he set off at a brisk walk, determined to find… well, to just find something. He wasn’t sure if he cared what, at this point. Just something.
Something turned out to be Crazy Rainbow, a bar that Fujigaya had passed often enough to and from school but had never actually been inside (he preferred the more upswing clubs when out with Kawai or his other friends.) The neon sign was garish in a strangely charming way and Fujigaya stepped into the heated interior like a curious cat.
There was nothing particularly crazy about the inside, decorated in warm tones with vibrant, colorful accents. It smelled of alcohol, but also strangely of cinnamon, with Christmas music in the background to serve as ambiance, which Fujigaya could appreciate. He also could appreciate how good-looking the staff of Crazy Rainbow seemed to be. Both bartenders and one of the waitresses definitely fell into Fujigaya’s category of attractive.
The place was neither empty nor full, and Fujigaya slid onto a bar stool, creating a small oasis of isolation for himself as he ordered the first drink of the night - whiskey tonic. While he had no particular desire to get smashed for the holidays, getting smashed wasn’t really a bad idea.
One of the bartenders - the shorter one, who Fujigaya probably would have found utterly gorgeous had his nose not been so small and upturned - slid the drink over with a small smile that exuded such casual confidence that Fujigaya quickly took back his initial impression. Bartender was gorgeous.
He accepted the drink with a small nod and a smile of his own before the bartender moved on to fill another drink. Wrapping his fingers around the chilled glass, Fujigaya took a sip and decided that his feet had taken him to the right place.
He was halfway through the glass when someone chuckled and said “You’re not the usual type we get in here this time of year.”
Looking up, Fujigaya realized the bartender had returned, still smiling as he leaned his elbows on the bar.
“Not to be nosy or anything,” the bartender added in amusement, giving Fujigaya a small nod. “I’m Kitayama. Kitayama Hiromitsu.”
“Fujigaya Taisuke,” Fujigaya echoed, lips twitching into an amused smile. He was never one to turn down a conversation, even with a complete stranger. (It helped that the stranger had such a killer smile.) “What’s the usual crowd, anyway?”
“Oh, you know,” Kitayama waved his hand at the bar. “The old people, the scrooges, and the loners.”
“I would hope not,” Fujigaya smiled dryly. It was such a long, complicated story and probably not one this Kitayama really needed to hear right off the bat. Instead, Fujigaya worked on finishing his drink before signaling for another. When Kitayama returned with the second glass, he propped himself up on the bar again, clearly intending to stick around.
“What?” Fujigaya laughed, eyebrow raised at Kitayama, “Are you bored?”
“Mmm, maybe,” Kitayama said, shrugging, but there was a merry glint in his eyes. “You just seem like you have an interesting story of some sort. You look like one of those party kids, what would you be doing in Crazy Rainbow on Christmas Eve?”
Fujigaya grimaced, tracing a finger around the edge of his glass. “Nothing special, really,” he said, chuckling as he thought it over. “Family’s out of the country, friends all made other plans, and my roommates all ran off to their own romantic getaways. Oh, and,” his lips twisted in a sort of bitter amusement, “my ex won’t get back with me.”
That seemed to truly get Kitayama’s attention as he gave a sort of disbelieving laugh. “I don’t follow. Your ex? Why are you trying to get back with your ex?”
“Well…” Fujigaya said, still smiling wryly, “I liked him! We were sort of casually dating for a year and then we got serious last Christmas…”
“And?” Kitayama prompted, still leaning on the bar, finger tracing over the fake wood grains as he listened. “What happened?”
Fujigaya at least had the decency to blush. “Summer break happened. I… well, I got drunk and… made out with his best friend and his sister so we broke up.” The last bit came out as a rush, and Fujigaya busied himself with his drink, dropping his gaze down to the glass.
To his surprise, Kitayama chuckled, “Yeah well… most guys don’t like it when that happens.”
“I know,” Fujigaya replied, maturely sticking his tongue out. “But it’s not like I really meant to?”
“Lies,” Kitayama said, just as maturely, smirking. “If you hadn’t meant to, you wouldn’t have done it.”
“Hey!” At that, Fujigaya ruffled indignantly, glowering at Kitayama with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t mean to, I was drunk, it wasn’t on purpose!”
“Mmm.” Kitayama didn’t really seem to concede at all, which annoyed Fujigaya, but then Kitayama was grinning again as he tapped his fingers on the bar in time with whatever song was playing in the background. “Was he really that great?”
“Yes?” Fujigaya frowned and then shrugged. “I mean… yes and no, I guess. It wasn’t that I really wanted to get back with him for real,” he clarified quickly, deciding that it didn’t really matter what Kitayama thought because Kitayama was just a stranger working at this bar. “I just thought it’d be nice since it’s…. you know.” He gestured out the window, at the snow and the lights and everything else.
Kitayama’s lips quirked upwards again, but before he could say anything else, there was a call for a refill and he quickly slid away, leaving Fujigaya feeling just a tad lonely.
It was silly to be so desperate, to loathe being alone so much. Fujigaya pulled out his phone again, which still had no new messages, and grimaced at himself.
He found himself feeling rather sulky when Kitayama didn’t return, instead chatting with his coworker and actually doing his job. While Kitayama acted like an annoying know-it-all, Fujigaya had liked having someone to talk to, and with no Kitayama, Fujigaya had to settle with nursing his whiskey.
He didn’t get a third one right when he finished the drink off, instead tracing his fingertip over the glass and pondering if he really wanted to get drunk or not. The next ten minutes probably hinged on that, and as Kitayama probably was finished talking to him…
“You know-“
… Or maybe not.
Surprised, Fujigaya looked up to find Kitayama drying his hands as he walked back over.
“Uhm, yes?” he said quickly.
Kitayama shrugged, swinging the towel over his shoulder and leaning a hand on the bar. “Well, I was just thinking… you know, I don’t get off my shift until eleven, but if you really don’t want to spend Christmas on your own, you could have dinner with me instead? It’s better than a hangover, I’m sure,” he added with a smile that crinkled his eyes up.
The offer surprised Fujigaya completely and he took a moment to just gawk at Kitayama before trying to regain his composure.
It was probably a crazy idea. There was always the chance that Kitayama was secretly a serial killer or something like that, it wasn’t like Fujigaya would be the wiser.
But he already wanted to say yes.
“You sure?” he asked instead, tilting his head in confusion. “I don’t want to be a pain or intrude or anything.”
“If you were going to be, I wouldn’t have offered,” Kitayama said, laughing. “But no, I’m spending it alone anyway, so I thought I’d at least ask you.”
Okay, so maybe Kitayama wasn’t such an annoying know-it-all.
“It’d be nice,” Fujigaya relented finally, managing a small smile, still circling the rim of his glass. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Do you want another one of those?”
Shaking his head no, Fujigaya opted for just a soda instead, moving to tuck himself at the very end of the bar to stay out of the way. It was still a good hour and a half until Kitayama’s shift was supposed to end, but Fujigaya found that the idea of waiting wasn’t really that bad, this time around.
The time was passed with another two drinks and Kitayama occasionally popping back over to chat with Fujigaya (who learned that Kitayama loved soccer, knew all the best yakiniku places in town, and wanted to become a teacher once he graduated from university). Finally Kitayama returned to announce that his shift was over and they could leave. Paying for his drinks, Fujigaya fell in step with Kitayama as they left the bar.
Fujigaya was beginning to wonder if the clock on his phone had somehow frozen when Kitayama approached, out from behind the bar, jacket slung over his shoulder. “I’m surprised you waited.”
Lips quirking up into a smile, Fujigaya gave a light shrug of his shoulders, “I’m more stubborn than I appear,” he said, tossing back his hair for dramatic flair before sliding off the bar stool and pulling his coat on so he could follow after Kitayama, into the winter-chilled outdoors.
It was even colder outside, nearing midnight as they both tried to burrow deeper into their coats. Fujigaya could also feel the nip of cold on his sockless feet, despite his boots being lined.
“My apartment’s only a block or so that way,” Kitayama said, nodding down the street. This meant that he didn’t live far, Fujigaya mused as they walked along. He wondered how he’d never met Kitayama before, but knew that was a silly question because even if they didn’t live that far from each other, Fujigaya didn’t know most of the people in his apartment complex either.
It was a relief to step inside Kitayama’s apartment, once the other had unlocked the door, Fujigaya no longer able to see his breath as the warmer air met them.
“Tadaima~,” Kitayama murmured under his breath. He stopped short when he saw Fujigaya taking his boots off, one eyebrow shooting up. “Where are your socks?”
“Uhm…” Fujigaya looked down, wiggling his toes as he tried to remember why exactly he didn’t have a pair on. “I didn’t feel like it…”
Snorting, Kitayama shook his head. There again with the know-it-all, and Fujigaya wanted to fume, but Kitayama was already walking into his apartment. “Hold on, I’ll get something for your feet, dorkface.”
“You’re a dorkface,” Fujigaya shot back, but accepted the socks when Kitayama returned with them. They were plainer than Fujigaya’s normally were, but they were also thicker and warmer. Wiggling his toes around, he glanced up, grinning. “Thanks again.”
Waiting for Fujigaya to properly follow him into the apartment, Kitayama plopped down on his couch, pulling out his phone. “So basically,” he explained as Fujigaya tentatively sank down on the opposite end of the couch, “I wasn’t really planning on anything fancy for the night. I was just going to get take-out and spend the night inside. There’s a pretty decent Chinese place nearby, too. But if you’d rather…?”
Fujigaya actually knew the place, as he, Yokoo, Senga, and Tamamori often found themselves too busy with homework or work to feel up to cooking. “I actually really like Chinese,” Fujigaya replied, leaning into the arm of the couch, letting himself relax a fraction at a time, taking in Kitayama’s apartment while the other ordered.
The apartment was cluttered, but not actually messy. There were shelves filled with books, movies, cds, with a special spot for a rather battered looking soccer ball; a decent entertainment center; a guitar leaning against the wall in the far corner.
“Fifteen minutes,” Kitayama announced as he snapped his phone shut, leaning against his own couch arm, his feet tucked up on the couch. “So, Daisuke, what else do you like besides Chinese takeout?”
In an instant, Fujigaya’s head snapped around, his lips in a thin line, and his eyes darkened with annoyance. “It’s Taisuke,” he said, stressing the first syllable. “Taisuke.”
Kitayama blinked at him for a moment before tucking both hands behind his head. “I take it you get that a lot, huh?”
Fujigaya pursed his lips, still waiting for the apology - though in the back of his mind he knew he wasn’t going to get one. “You have no idea.”
“Well, Taisuke,” Kitayama began again, stressing the name in (a rather infuriating) imitation of Fujigaya, “what do you like besides Chinese? And what do you not like besides socks?”
“Hey, I like socks,” Fujigaya defended, pouting slightly before moving to mimic Kitayama’s sprawl on his side of the couch. “I like… well, a lot of stuff?” He realized this was rather unhelpful, but there was no easy answer right off the top of his head. There was such a broad spectrum of things to choose from; really Fujigaya liked just about everything.
Kitayama chuckled, low and deep, and Fujigaya really liked that too, the way it contrasted with the touch of merriment in the other’s eyes. “Well,” Kitayama tried again, “how about what you’d… do on your ideal day off~. If you could do anything, what would it be?”
Raising an eyebrow, Fujigaya settled back on the couch. “Is this some deep insight into my soul?”
“I doubt it’d tell me anything I haven’t already figured out,” Kitayama replied, smug, and Fujigaya kicked at his foot. The mature voice in his head - the one that sounded like Yokoo - said that he was hardly behaving like a gentleman, but Fujigaya ignored the voice in favor of considering the question.
“By myself or with someone else?”
To that, Kitayama snorted, “Well, I’m going to guess that your ideal day is hardly one spent alone.”
He was spot on, but Fujigaya wasn’t going to tell him that.
“It depends, I guess,” he said at long last, sending contemplative looks at his now socked feet. “But I guess I’d like to go on a road trip of sorts? Doesn’t really matter where we’d go, we’d just go driving around eat snacks in the car and then we’d find somewhere to stay and watch movies all night.” He had the perfect mental picture in his head with hot cocoa and cuddling under a blanket, but he left those details out. No need to see Kitayama’s all-knowing smirk at his expense.
“Mmm…” Kitayama hummed, and Fujigaya tilted his head his head, waiting for the other’s verdict.
“With or without socks?”
Laughter startled out of Fujigaya and he threw his head back, just enjoying the sensation of carefree, disbelieving enjoyment. “Oh, come on! How about you? What would your ideal day with someone else be?”
Kitayama’s answer was nearly instant. “Simple and fun. Trip out to the ocean in the morning… if it’s warm enough, go surfing, and then dinner.”
“Yakiniku?” Fujigaya guessed and was pleased to see Kitayama’s nod.
It wasn’t long until the doorbell rang. “That’ll be the food,” Kitayama said, rolling off the couch and shuffling over to the door. Fujigaya watched him go, before his gaze dropped down to the coffee table. Several papers had shifted with Kitayama’s exit to the front door, and Fujigaya realized that he wasn’t looking at a normal stack of letters or paperwork.
It was a handwritten score, cramped and messy, but perfectly legible. Picking up the top two pieces of paper, Fujigaya scanned the song, titled [No.1 Friend] and realized that there were lyrics scrawled on the page as well. It wasn’t really a love song, Fujigaya noted, but a song of growing up and of friendship. Trying to piece the song together in his head, Fujigaya glanced at the guitar and then down at the sheets.
“You can use it, if you want.”
Fujigaya let out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak and promptly dropped both pages, looking up at Kitayama in surprise.
Eyebrow raised, Kitayama offered the bag full of takeout, two pairs of disposable chopsticks in his other hand, which he pointed at the guitar. “It’s okay, really.”
“I was just looking,” Fujigaya muttered, self consciously smoothing down his shirt before straightening up the stack of papers, making room for the food. As they spread out the various boxes, he grinned, glancing at Kitayama, “So you’re a songwriter?”
“On and off,” Kitayama replied, shrugging a shoulder as he handed Fujigaya a pair of chopsticks. “I learned guitar while I was in high school and I dabble every now and then, when I have the time. This one isn’t finished, I’m having some trouble with a couple different parts. Enjoy!” he added, gesturing at the takeout.
“Mm,” Fujigaya nodded, mouth already full, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He hadn’t really stopped to think about it, not since he’d accepted the offer, but to feel so comfortable in Kitayama’s apartment was probably supposed to feel strange. But it didn’t, and that perhaps made it even stranger. “Well,” he spoke up, once his mouth was empty, nodding towards Kitayama’s guitar, “maybe you could play it through for me once we’re done?”
But Kitayama was already sliding off the couch to pick up the guitar, ducking under the shoulder strap. “I can show you now~.”
There was no protest from Fujigaya as he settled against the couch, stir-fry box and napkins in hand, watching as Kitayama curled around the guitar, quickly tuning it before he began to sing.
Fujigaya felt his breath catch in his throat. He’d truly only expected Kitayama to play the melody or something, but even though he could tell what Kitayama had meant about the song - it was unpolished and rough in spots - there was nothing to keep him from getting arrested in the emotions of the lyrics as Kitayama sang on, heart skittering.
“… Wow,” he said when Kitayama finished. For a moment all words failed him and he was left speechless. “That was… that was good.”
Kitayama smiled, and this time it was a small, reserved one that spoke of secret pleasure. “Not perfect. I haven’t even written anything for the bridge or the last part of the second verse.”
“No,” Fujigaya agreed, replaying it through his head, unconsciously setting down the takeout and reaching for the score instead. Kitayama sat on the arm of the couch, still cradling the guitar as Fujigaya tapped out the beat, staring intently at the sheets before singing. The line altered slightly - not too much, but enough to tell, and he quickly glanced at Kitayama in question, unsure. It wasn’t his song and he still wasn’t quite sure what would work and what would with Kitayama.
After a moment’s thought, Kitayama nodded, sliding down onto the couch next to Fujigaya. “Like this, right?” he said, mimicking Fujigaya on guitar, “… Yes,” he nodded, more decisive this time, reaching for one of the pencils on the table. “Sing it again?”
Fujigaya sang, repeating the line perfectly, watching as Kitayama scribbled along the top of the sheet, his lips flicking up into a small, satisfied smile. Their eyes met for a moment and Kitayama’s smile went crooked. “Not a bad voice.”
“Thanks,” Fujigaya murmured, suddenly looking at all the music and not at Kitayama, cheeks warm. “Also, this line right here…”
Sometime later, they ended up with paper scattered everywhere, Fujigaya eventually adopting his own pencil as he and Kitayama worked through the second verse and then moved onto… something else. Lines had worked together and then bled out of the song into something else, and he gave the four pages on his lap an amused smile.
“I’m not sure what we’re doing anymore,” he laughed as he tried to make sense of chords and scribbled notes and what almost passed as lyrics. “
Kitayama smiled crookedly, tapping his fingers on his guitar in rhythm. “This, my friend, is a ballad. We are singing a love song.”
“How ironic,” Fujigaya said, leaning down over the next page, “Speaking of which, I think we should use something else instead of ‘I love you’ for the last line of the chorus.”
“Mm, maybe. Give me the first three measures again?” Kitayama muttered, hunching over his guitar, staring intently at one of the papers on the table, and there was this strange intensity in his expression that Fujigaya felt he’d never seen before, on anyone ever.
“Taisuke,” Kitayama prompted again, but Fujigaya let the papers slide off his lap as he leaned forward. The fire was gone from Kitayama’s eyes, but it left a lingering warmth that Fujigaya could not resist.
“I’m probably not drunk enough for this,” he confessed, resting a hand on Kitayama’s knee. He balanced precariously for a moment before taking the plunge, pressing their mouths together and suddenly there were butterflies in his stomach like a shower of fireworks.
With cheeks flaming red, he pulled away a few moments later. He wasn’t drunk enough for it and he stared at his socks, but they were really Kitayama’s socks and that made the butterflies turn themselves into a hurricane of nerves.
“Dorkface,” Kitayama said, and there was a sudden surge of affection in the word that Fujigaya jerked upright in surprise, and suddenly Kitayama was there, setting the guitar out of the way and sliding his hand over Fujigaya’s cheek and Fujigaya felt himself melt a little, letting Kitayama guide him into another kiss.
“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this either,” Kitayama whispered, and Fujigaya’s laughter was a gasp against his lips before Kitayama closed the gap between them.
Kitayama tasted like sunlight and cherries, and maybe it was just the romantic in Fujigaya’s mind, but he loved it.
One kiss soon became more as Kitayama’s fingers tangling in Fujigaya’s hair, papers and silly love songs forgotten as he pushed Fujigaya down on the couch. His mouth was firm and demanding, and Fujigaya lost himself in the sensations. Pulling Kitayama down for a longer, more passionate kiss, Fujigaya decided that Christmas Eve wasn’t turning out so badly.
~
When Fujigaya finally swam his way back to consciousness, everything was warm bliss, relaxed and hazy. With the blankets tugged up almost over his head, the room was filled with grey light, filtering in through the crack in the curtains.
Hand tucked under his cheek, Fujigaya yawned, lazily stretching his legs out as he glanced around the room. He admittedly hadn’t seen much of the room the night before, as he’d been rather occupied.
Kitayama shifted beside him, an arm wrapping around Fujigaya’s waist, nosing at the nape of his neck. “I have an idea,” Kitayama murmured, voice still thick with sleep as he pressed a kiss to Fujigaya’s shoulder. “How about we pull the covers higher, go to sleep for a bit longer, and you can spend Christmas with me too.”
It was an idea that Fujigaya was not entirely opposed to, but before he could answer, there was a sudden loud buzzing coming from somewhere in the room. Kitayama chuckled, the sound rumbling through Fujigaya with how the man was pressed up against his back. “I think that’s yours,” Kitayama said, lips brushing over skin. Fujigaya let out a whine of complaint, loathe to move.
But swing an arm over the edge of the bed he did, to grope around and eventually finding his pants. Fumbling through the pockets, he managed to snatch up the offending piece of technology. “Senga, it’s too early for this.”
Senga was sounded entirely too cheerful and awake, even over the phone, “Eeeh, Taipi, it’s past noon! How are you? You weren’t answering my texts, so I just thought I’d see if you wanted me and Nika to come back or something...“
Fujigaya took refuge under the covers again, phone tucked against his ear as he chuckled. “No, it’s fine,” he said, when Senga finally paused, “I ended up finding stuff to do.” He let out a yelp as Kitayama’s fingers spidered down his side, jamming an elbow back. “Stop that!”
“Never,” Kitayama chuckled, too amused to mind the second time Fujigaya jabbed his elbow back.
“Who’s that?” Senga said, confused.
Fujigaya whined again, swatting Kitayama one more time for good measure. “It’s nothing.”
“Hey,” Kitayama interrupted, “Since when am I a thing, Daisuke?”
“Taipi’s got someone in bed with him,” Senga could be heard clear as day, obviously talking to Nikaido.
“Actually,” Kitayama hoisted himself up on an elbow, still grinning as he pulled the phone closer to his mouth, “he’s in my bed.”
“Ehhhh!? Who is that!”
“No one!” Fujigaya yelped, indignantly reclaiming his phone. When glared at, Kitayama just gave him a smug grin and a peace sign.
“That is a someone, Fujigaya,” Nikaido said, slightly softer than Senga, but still distinct.
“No, it’s not,” Fujigaya groaned, “I went to that Crazy Rainbow bar and started talking to the bartender…” Then ended up going over to his place, and writing a song, and then sleeping with him - all the things Fujigaya wasn’t going to tell Senga or Nikaido over the phone.
“What? You went to a bar and hooked up with the bartender?!” Senga gasped, and behind him Nikaido crowed.
“Told you he could take care of himself!”
“Shut up,” Fujigaya hissed, pushing at Kitayama’s face before he could try stealing the phone again. “I’ll talk to you later Kento, have fun.” He hung up before Senga could properly say farewell, and turned to glower at Kitayama.
“That was fun,” Kitayama said, unrepentantly kissing along Fujigaya's collarbone. Fujigaya made a jab for his gut again, but this time Kitayama caught his hand, easily pinning it to the bed. “Play nice. Who was that? Roommates?”
“Roommate and his boyfriend,” Fujigaya corrected, resignedly relaxing back onto the bed, eyes closing and letting the tension wash back off him, “They’re the ones who went to Nagoya.”
“Mmm~.” Kitayama reached down, tugging the blankets up over them both. “Well, they sound like fun.”
“Nosy,” Fujigaya grumbled, harmless enough though. With Kitayama solid and warm beside him, it was easy to think about falling asleep again, even after the call, but before he could finish that thought, his phone rang again.
Kitayama’s hand darted out, snatching the phone up off the blanket while swiftly pinning Fujigaya down. “Hello~.”
“Hey, Mitsu!” That was when Fujigaya stopped trying to throw Kitayama off him, because it was Yokoo, loud and clear. “How’re you doing? I was just calling…” There was a sudden pause and Fujigaya could practically hear the puzzle pieces falling into place before Yokoo spoke again. “Kitayama Hiromitsu, what are you doing with Taisuke’s phone?”
Fujigaya took the chance to snatch at his phone, but Kitayama evaded him, laughing in disbelief, “Yokoo-san, you never said your roommate was so noisy.”
“Watta!” Fujigaya wailed, making another grab and missing. Grinning, crookedly, Kitayama passed him the phone. “Wataru!”
“Taisuke! ... What are you doing with Kitayama?”
Fujigaya wriggled away from Kitayama, cupping the phone to his ear, “it’s a long story? I dunno, I…” he glanced at Kitayama and shook his head, more to himself than to anyone else, “I’ll explain later? How’re you?”
“I’m fine,” Yokoo said, chuckling softly. “I don’t think I’ll be back until after New Year’s though. I already talked to Senga, he said you were in Tokyo alone… but apparently you’re not.”
Still listening in, Kitayama turned completely smug, leaning over to rest his chin on Fujigaya’s shoulder.
“I guess not,” Fujigaya agreed with a bemused smile. “I think I might actually have plans for New Year’s…”
“I shan’t keep you from your Christmas plans,” Yokoo teased, laughing before Fujigaya could protest. “I’ll talk to you soon, Taisuke.”
As the call ended, Kitayama looked at the phone and then at Fujigaya, eyebrow raised. “Anyone else going to call?”
Fujigaya quickly shook his head, sliding back under the covers. “…Nooo.” Tamamori was not nearly as generous as Yokoo or Senga and was probably either still sleeping or capitalizing on any spare moment with Miyata. “I don’t thi-“
His phone rang.
Kitayama picked up the phone before Fujigaya could, and Fujigaya saw a flash of [Tanaka Koki] before the man turned the phone off. Dropping it over the side of the bed, Kitayama gave him one of those slow, crooked smiles. Wrapping an arm around Fujigaya’s waist, Kitayama tugged him back under the covers, lips ghosting along Fujigaya’s jaw with a whispered “Merry Christmas~.”
Fujigaya laughed, heart lightened. Christmas definitely hadn’t turned out so bad after all.
Groups/Pairings: Kisumai - KitaFuji (main), NiSen, MiyaTama, former Fujigaya/XXX-kun, vague mention of Yokoo/KKKitty
Rating: PG
Summary: AU - When Fujigaya finds himself alone on Christmas Eve with no socks, he sets out to find something that will distract him. He finds socks and the rather unexpected companionship of Crazy Rainbow's bartender.
Disclaimer: This work is purely fiction.
Warnings: None.
A/N: For elindar ♥ I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK... A YEAR. D8 And it sort of morphed from your prompt, but. ;; I hope it is to your tastes? Special thanks to omoikkiri for bashing my head in until this fic was finished (and for dealing with all my wonderful grammatical flubs ♥) Inspired, in a roundabout way, by Last Christmas (preferably by Savage Garden or Cascada. 8D/) Enjoy! ♥♥♥ Also recommended to listen to is No.1 Friend for obvious reasons.
Probably Fujigaya should have put socks on hours ago, but he didn’t want to. Instead, he tucked his chilled feet in between the cushions of the couch, and his hands in the confines of an over-large sweater, as he watched Senga rush around the house like a headless chicken. Though Senga had known his holiday agenda, he had chosen to put off packing until the day of, when Nikaido had already arrived.
“How much stuff do you even really need to take?” Nikaido said, eyeing where Senga was digging around the bucket of odd socks that Yokoo kept in the corner of the main room. “We’re going to your house, aren’t we?”
“Right, but…” Senga held up the third pair of high top sneakers that he’d snatched up from floor for consideration, then dropped them back on the floor. The once-clean floor (Yokoo’s doing) was littered with bits and pieces of Senga’s wardrobe, while his backpack lay empty nearby.
Yokoo would probably throw a fit if he saw, but as Yokoo had left the day before for his own holiday trip, it wasn’t really going to be a problem for the time being. And, Fujigaya reasoned, it was Senga’s problem anyway.
“We’re just going for a day or two, you don’t need to pack your life up,” Nikaido said, exasperated.
Knowing that they’d all get nowhere if things were left in Senga’s hands, Fujigaya pointed at Senga’s favorite jeans and two shirts. “Those ones. And your silver leopard print shoes. Take those ones.”
Obediently stooping to sweep the selected items into his backpack, Senga paused, glancing at Fujigaya before zipping up his backpack. “Are you sure?” he asked, and it was such an oft-repeated question that Fujigaya already knew he wasn’t referring to the clothes.
“I’ll be fine,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m twenty-two, I can take care of myself alone.”
“Yeah, but it’s Christmas Eve!” Senga pouted. “You shouldn’t be alone during Christmas and all. Maybe we could come back up early…?”
“Gaya can take care of himself, Kento.” Nikaido came to Fujigaya’s rescue, beckoning to his boyfriend. “And we have to get going, otherwise we’re never even going to get to Nagoya at this point.”
Though Senga seemed reluctant, he shuffled over to give Fujigaya one last hug, “Talk to you soon, Taipi!”
Ushering Senga out the door, Nikaido threw Fujigaya a quick salute. “Laters.”
There was silence for a good five minutes before the bathroom door opened, and Tamamori snuck his head out, glancing around. “I am not cleaning that up,” he said, indicating the explosion of clothing in the middle of the room.
Laughing, Fujigaya shook his head. “I know,” he said, rearranging his feet and tucking them beneath him properly. He really should get those socks. “When is Miyacchi getting here?”
“Soon.”
All Tamamori had wanted for Christmas was to be spirited away to somewhere “really special.” Miyata couldn’t afford it, so they compromised. A getaway night to an onsen and Tamamori seemed pleased enough.
“Soon” turned out to be ten minutes later, with a brisk knock on the door. Fujigaya kept his feet tucked underneath him and let Tamamori answer the door.
“Tama-chan~!” Miyata lit up as soon as the door opened. Tamamori just snorted, pulling him out of the winter cold. As soon as the door was kicked shut, Tamamori’s mouth was hot and firm on Miyata’s. Fujigaya rolled his eyes.
He wasn’t being sour. He wasn’t. It was just something he didn’t want shoved in his face (even if he knew had things been different, had he been Tamamori, it’d be the same way.)
Once the two of them parted, Miyata turned his grin to Fujigaya, waving. “Hey, Taipi~! Are you off soon too?”
“He’s staying,” Tamamori said.
“Ehh? So is Yokoo staying here too?” Miyata peered around curious, but Fujigaya was already shaking his head, amused in a self-disparaging way.
“Nah, he’s spending it with some old friends.” When Miyata gave him a genuinely concerned look, Fujigaya threw his hands up. “There’s nothing wrong with me being here alone! I won’t blow up the apartment, I promise!”
Miyata hesitated, looking between Tamamori and Fujigaya before opening his mouth.
“No,” they said in tandem before he could say anything.
“We should be going,” Tamamori said firmly, steering Miyata towards the doorway. Unlike Senga, Tamamori had packed ahead of time. “We’ll be back tomorrow, maybe.”
Fujigaya waved them both away, shaking his head in bemusement. “Have fun~.”
The door clicked shut and then he was finally, finally alone.
He sighed, pressing his palms to his cheeks in dejection, the facade slowly slipping and fading now that he was truly alone in the apartment. Senga’s mess was strewn all over the room and even that served as a small reminder that Fujigaya really was going to spend Christmas Eve on his own.
It was his own fault, probably. But his roommates had all made other plans and his parents had decided to run off to the U.S. for a much deserved vacation with his two younger brothers and there was just nobody else... At least not anyone he wanted to spend Christmas with, in any case.
He reminded himself it wasn’t the end of the world, but that just felt like the sort of thing arrogantly insecure people told themselves when things didn’t go their way. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it wasn’t… anything else, either. But that was probably what bothered him the most. He wanted it to be something.
Reaching into his shirt’s front pocket, he pulled out his phone. He felt a wave of disappointment when he saw there were no messages of any sort waiting for him, even if he’d known it was going to be like that.
He idly traced his fingers over the screen, shifting on the couch so his legs were crossed beneath him. He knew what he was waiting for but he also knew it wasn’t going to happen. But knowing didn’t mean he didn’t wish it would, and so he continued to skim through his phone, waiting.
It wasn’t until his toes were freezing and his left foot had fallen asleep that Fujigaya realized how much time had really passed. Several hours at this point, and he winced as he rubbed feeling back into his foot. He was wasting his Christmas Eve away doing nothing, all because he didn’t want to do anything alone.
He finally hauled himself up off the couch to get some socks, all the while scolding himself for being such a wuss. Just because he was on his own didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the well deserved holiday. He was on break and his noisy housemates weren’t around. It wasn’t that bad, was it? It didn’t matter that all of his plans had been ruined by a boy he did not particularly wish to name, in any case.
Right?
But the silence of the walls surrounding him and the ever so still phone in his pocket was answer enough and he quickly changed tracks, veering away from his room to the coat closet, taking out his favorite lined leather jacket and grabbing a pair of boots. Socks be damned, he needed to get out of this apartment.
The cold hit him the moment he stepped outside, his breath coming out in a puff of surprise. It was dark now but the streets were lit, and the snow that had fallen earlier that day glittered on the pavement.
Shoving chilled fingers deep into his pockets, Fujigaya headed down the street, not really sure where he was going but not really thinking about it either. While not crowded, the streets weren’t empty either, and everywhere he looked, it was either families laughing and joking, groups of friends, or a Christmas couple swinging hands between them. Though he knew nobody else noticed, he felt out of place, like an outsider looking in, and it deepened his dismal mood.
Digging his hands deeper into his pockets, he set off at a brisk walk, determined to find… well, to just find something. He wasn’t sure if he cared what, at this point. Just something.
Something turned out to be Crazy Rainbow, a bar that Fujigaya had passed often enough to and from school but had never actually been inside (he preferred the more upswing clubs when out with Kawai or his other friends.) The neon sign was garish in a strangely charming way and Fujigaya stepped into the heated interior like a curious cat.
There was nothing particularly crazy about the inside, decorated in warm tones with vibrant, colorful accents. It smelled of alcohol, but also strangely of cinnamon, with Christmas music in the background to serve as ambiance, which Fujigaya could appreciate. He also could appreciate how good-looking the staff of Crazy Rainbow seemed to be. Both bartenders and one of the waitresses definitely fell into Fujigaya’s category of attractive.
The place was neither empty nor full, and Fujigaya slid onto a bar stool, creating a small oasis of isolation for himself as he ordered the first drink of the night - whiskey tonic. While he had no particular desire to get smashed for the holidays, getting smashed wasn’t really a bad idea.
One of the bartenders - the shorter one, who Fujigaya probably would have found utterly gorgeous had his nose not been so small and upturned - slid the drink over with a small smile that exuded such casual confidence that Fujigaya quickly took back his initial impression. Bartender was gorgeous.
He accepted the drink with a small nod and a smile of his own before the bartender moved on to fill another drink. Wrapping his fingers around the chilled glass, Fujigaya took a sip and decided that his feet had taken him to the right place.
He was halfway through the glass when someone chuckled and said “You’re not the usual type we get in here this time of year.”
Looking up, Fujigaya realized the bartender had returned, still smiling as he leaned his elbows on the bar.
“Not to be nosy or anything,” the bartender added in amusement, giving Fujigaya a small nod. “I’m Kitayama. Kitayama Hiromitsu.”
“Fujigaya Taisuke,” Fujigaya echoed, lips twitching into an amused smile. He was never one to turn down a conversation, even with a complete stranger. (It helped that the stranger had such a killer smile.) “What’s the usual crowd, anyway?”
“Oh, you know,” Kitayama waved his hand at the bar. “The old people, the scrooges, and the loners.”
“I would hope not,” Fujigaya smiled dryly. It was such a long, complicated story and probably not one this Kitayama really needed to hear right off the bat. Instead, Fujigaya worked on finishing his drink before signaling for another. When Kitayama returned with the second glass, he propped himself up on the bar again, clearly intending to stick around.
“What?” Fujigaya laughed, eyebrow raised at Kitayama, “Are you bored?”
“Mmm, maybe,” Kitayama said, shrugging, but there was a merry glint in his eyes. “You just seem like you have an interesting story of some sort. You look like one of those party kids, what would you be doing in Crazy Rainbow on Christmas Eve?”
Fujigaya grimaced, tracing a finger around the edge of his glass. “Nothing special, really,” he said, chuckling as he thought it over. “Family’s out of the country, friends all made other plans, and my roommates all ran off to their own romantic getaways. Oh, and,” his lips twisted in a sort of bitter amusement, “my ex won’t get back with me.”
That seemed to truly get Kitayama’s attention as he gave a sort of disbelieving laugh. “I don’t follow. Your ex? Why are you trying to get back with your ex?”
“Well…” Fujigaya said, still smiling wryly, “I liked him! We were sort of casually dating for a year and then we got serious last Christmas…”
“And?” Kitayama prompted, still leaning on the bar, finger tracing over the fake wood grains as he listened. “What happened?”
Fujigaya at least had the decency to blush. “Summer break happened. I… well, I got drunk and… made out with his best friend and his sister so we broke up.” The last bit came out as a rush, and Fujigaya busied himself with his drink, dropping his gaze down to the glass.
To his surprise, Kitayama chuckled, “Yeah well… most guys don’t like it when that happens.”
“I know,” Fujigaya replied, maturely sticking his tongue out. “But it’s not like I really meant to?”
“Lies,” Kitayama said, just as maturely, smirking. “If you hadn’t meant to, you wouldn’t have done it.”
“Hey!” At that, Fujigaya ruffled indignantly, glowering at Kitayama with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t mean to, I was drunk, it wasn’t on purpose!”
“Mmm.” Kitayama didn’t really seem to concede at all, which annoyed Fujigaya, but then Kitayama was grinning again as he tapped his fingers on the bar in time with whatever song was playing in the background. “Was he really that great?”
“Yes?” Fujigaya frowned and then shrugged. “I mean… yes and no, I guess. It wasn’t that I really wanted to get back with him for real,” he clarified quickly, deciding that it didn’t really matter what Kitayama thought because Kitayama was just a stranger working at this bar. “I just thought it’d be nice since it’s…. you know.” He gestured out the window, at the snow and the lights and everything else.
Kitayama’s lips quirked upwards again, but before he could say anything else, there was a call for a refill and he quickly slid away, leaving Fujigaya feeling just a tad lonely.
It was silly to be so desperate, to loathe being alone so much. Fujigaya pulled out his phone again, which still had no new messages, and grimaced at himself.
He found himself feeling rather sulky when Kitayama didn’t return, instead chatting with his coworker and actually doing his job. While Kitayama acted like an annoying know-it-all, Fujigaya had liked having someone to talk to, and with no Kitayama, Fujigaya had to settle with nursing his whiskey.
He didn’t get a third one right when he finished the drink off, instead tracing his fingertip over the glass and pondering if he really wanted to get drunk or not. The next ten minutes probably hinged on that, and as Kitayama probably was finished talking to him…
“You know-“
… Or maybe not.
Surprised, Fujigaya looked up to find Kitayama drying his hands as he walked back over.
“Uhm, yes?” he said quickly.
Kitayama shrugged, swinging the towel over his shoulder and leaning a hand on the bar. “Well, I was just thinking… you know, I don’t get off my shift until eleven, but if you really don’t want to spend Christmas on your own, you could have dinner with me instead? It’s better than a hangover, I’m sure,” he added with a smile that crinkled his eyes up.
The offer surprised Fujigaya completely and he took a moment to just gawk at Kitayama before trying to regain his composure.
It was probably a crazy idea. There was always the chance that Kitayama was secretly a serial killer or something like that, it wasn’t like Fujigaya would be the wiser.
But he already wanted to say yes.
“You sure?” he asked instead, tilting his head in confusion. “I don’t want to be a pain or intrude or anything.”
“If you were going to be, I wouldn’t have offered,” Kitayama said, laughing. “But no, I’m spending it alone anyway, so I thought I’d at least ask you.”
Okay, so maybe Kitayama wasn’t such an annoying know-it-all.
“It’d be nice,” Fujigaya relented finally, managing a small smile, still circling the rim of his glass. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Do you want another one of those?”
Shaking his head no, Fujigaya opted for just a soda instead, moving to tuck himself at the very end of the bar to stay out of the way. It was still a good hour and a half until Kitayama’s shift was supposed to end, but Fujigaya found that the idea of waiting wasn’t really that bad, this time around.
The time was passed with another two drinks and Kitayama occasionally popping back over to chat with Fujigaya (who learned that Kitayama loved soccer, knew all the best yakiniku places in town, and wanted to become a teacher once he graduated from university). Finally Kitayama returned to announce that his shift was over and they could leave. Paying for his drinks, Fujigaya fell in step with Kitayama as they left the bar.
Fujigaya was beginning to wonder if the clock on his phone had somehow frozen when Kitayama approached, out from behind the bar, jacket slung over his shoulder. “I’m surprised you waited.”
Lips quirking up into a smile, Fujigaya gave a light shrug of his shoulders, “I’m more stubborn than I appear,” he said, tossing back his hair for dramatic flair before sliding off the bar stool and pulling his coat on so he could follow after Kitayama, into the winter-chilled outdoors.
It was even colder outside, nearing midnight as they both tried to burrow deeper into their coats. Fujigaya could also feel the nip of cold on his sockless feet, despite his boots being lined.
“My apartment’s only a block or so that way,” Kitayama said, nodding down the street. This meant that he didn’t live far, Fujigaya mused as they walked along. He wondered how he’d never met Kitayama before, but knew that was a silly question because even if they didn’t live that far from each other, Fujigaya didn’t know most of the people in his apartment complex either.
It was a relief to step inside Kitayama’s apartment, once the other had unlocked the door, Fujigaya no longer able to see his breath as the warmer air met them.
“Tadaima~,” Kitayama murmured under his breath. He stopped short when he saw Fujigaya taking his boots off, one eyebrow shooting up. “Where are your socks?”
“Uhm…” Fujigaya looked down, wiggling his toes as he tried to remember why exactly he didn’t have a pair on. “I didn’t feel like it…”
Snorting, Kitayama shook his head. There again with the know-it-all, and Fujigaya wanted to fume, but Kitayama was already walking into his apartment. “Hold on, I’ll get something for your feet, dorkface.”
“You’re a dorkface,” Fujigaya shot back, but accepted the socks when Kitayama returned with them. They were plainer than Fujigaya’s normally were, but they were also thicker and warmer. Wiggling his toes around, he glanced up, grinning. “Thanks again.”
Waiting for Fujigaya to properly follow him into the apartment, Kitayama plopped down on his couch, pulling out his phone. “So basically,” he explained as Fujigaya tentatively sank down on the opposite end of the couch, “I wasn’t really planning on anything fancy for the night. I was just going to get take-out and spend the night inside. There’s a pretty decent Chinese place nearby, too. But if you’d rather…?”
Fujigaya actually knew the place, as he, Yokoo, Senga, and Tamamori often found themselves too busy with homework or work to feel up to cooking. “I actually really like Chinese,” Fujigaya replied, leaning into the arm of the couch, letting himself relax a fraction at a time, taking in Kitayama’s apartment while the other ordered.
The apartment was cluttered, but not actually messy. There were shelves filled with books, movies, cds, with a special spot for a rather battered looking soccer ball; a decent entertainment center; a guitar leaning against the wall in the far corner.
“Fifteen minutes,” Kitayama announced as he snapped his phone shut, leaning against his own couch arm, his feet tucked up on the couch. “So, Daisuke, what else do you like besides Chinese takeout?”
In an instant, Fujigaya’s head snapped around, his lips in a thin line, and his eyes darkened with annoyance. “It’s Taisuke,” he said, stressing the first syllable. “Taisuke.”
Kitayama blinked at him for a moment before tucking both hands behind his head. “I take it you get that a lot, huh?”
Fujigaya pursed his lips, still waiting for the apology - though in the back of his mind he knew he wasn’t going to get one. “You have no idea.”
“Well, Taisuke,” Kitayama began again, stressing the name in (a rather infuriating) imitation of Fujigaya, “what do you like besides Chinese? And what do you not like besides socks?”
“Hey, I like socks,” Fujigaya defended, pouting slightly before moving to mimic Kitayama’s sprawl on his side of the couch. “I like… well, a lot of stuff?” He realized this was rather unhelpful, but there was no easy answer right off the top of his head. There was such a broad spectrum of things to choose from; really Fujigaya liked just about everything.
Kitayama chuckled, low and deep, and Fujigaya really liked that too, the way it contrasted with the touch of merriment in the other’s eyes. “Well,” Kitayama tried again, “how about what you’d… do on your ideal day off~. If you could do anything, what would it be?”
Raising an eyebrow, Fujigaya settled back on the couch. “Is this some deep insight into my soul?”
“I doubt it’d tell me anything I haven’t already figured out,” Kitayama replied, smug, and Fujigaya kicked at his foot. The mature voice in his head - the one that sounded like Yokoo - said that he was hardly behaving like a gentleman, but Fujigaya ignored the voice in favor of considering the question.
“By myself or with someone else?”
To that, Kitayama snorted, “Well, I’m going to guess that your ideal day is hardly one spent alone.”
He was spot on, but Fujigaya wasn’t going to tell him that.
“It depends, I guess,” he said at long last, sending contemplative looks at his now socked feet. “But I guess I’d like to go on a road trip of sorts? Doesn’t really matter where we’d go, we’d just go driving around eat snacks in the car and then we’d find somewhere to stay and watch movies all night.” He had the perfect mental picture in his head with hot cocoa and cuddling under a blanket, but he left those details out. No need to see Kitayama’s all-knowing smirk at his expense.
“Mmm…” Kitayama hummed, and Fujigaya tilted his head his head, waiting for the other’s verdict.
“With or without socks?”
Laughter startled out of Fujigaya and he threw his head back, just enjoying the sensation of carefree, disbelieving enjoyment. “Oh, come on! How about you? What would your ideal day with someone else be?”
Kitayama’s answer was nearly instant. “Simple and fun. Trip out to the ocean in the morning… if it’s warm enough, go surfing, and then dinner.”
“Yakiniku?” Fujigaya guessed and was pleased to see Kitayama’s nod.
It wasn’t long until the doorbell rang. “That’ll be the food,” Kitayama said, rolling off the couch and shuffling over to the door. Fujigaya watched him go, before his gaze dropped down to the coffee table. Several papers had shifted with Kitayama’s exit to the front door, and Fujigaya realized that he wasn’t looking at a normal stack of letters or paperwork.
It was a handwritten score, cramped and messy, but perfectly legible. Picking up the top two pieces of paper, Fujigaya scanned the song, titled [No.1 Friend] and realized that there were lyrics scrawled on the page as well. It wasn’t really a love song, Fujigaya noted, but a song of growing up and of friendship. Trying to piece the song together in his head, Fujigaya glanced at the guitar and then down at the sheets.
“You can use it, if you want.”
Fujigaya let out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak and promptly dropped both pages, looking up at Kitayama in surprise.
Eyebrow raised, Kitayama offered the bag full of takeout, two pairs of disposable chopsticks in his other hand, which he pointed at the guitar. “It’s okay, really.”
“I was just looking,” Fujigaya muttered, self consciously smoothing down his shirt before straightening up the stack of papers, making room for the food. As they spread out the various boxes, he grinned, glancing at Kitayama, “So you’re a songwriter?”
“On and off,” Kitayama replied, shrugging a shoulder as he handed Fujigaya a pair of chopsticks. “I learned guitar while I was in high school and I dabble every now and then, when I have the time. This one isn’t finished, I’m having some trouble with a couple different parts. Enjoy!” he added, gesturing at the takeout.
“Mm,” Fujigaya nodded, mouth already full, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He hadn’t really stopped to think about it, not since he’d accepted the offer, but to feel so comfortable in Kitayama’s apartment was probably supposed to feel strange. But it didn’t, and that perhaps made it even stranger. “Well,” he spoke up, once his mouth was empty, nodding towards Kitayama’s guitar, “maybe you could play it through for me once we’re done?”
But Kitayama was already sliding off the couch to pick up the guitar, ducking under the shoulder strap. “I can show you now~.”
There was no protest from Fujigaya as he settled against the couch, stir-fry box and napkins in hand, watching as Kitayama curled around the guitar, quickly tuning it before he began to sing.
Fujigaya felt his breath catch in his throat. He’d truly only expected Kitayama to play the melody or something, but even though he could tell what Kitayama had meant about the song - it was unpolished and rough in spots - there was nothing to keep him from getting arrested in the emotions of the lyrics as Kitayama sang on, heart skittering.
“… Wow,” he said when Kitayama finished. For a moment all words failed him and he was left speechless. “That was… that was good.”
Kitayama smiled, and this time it was a small, reserved one that spoke of secret pleasure. “Not perfect. I haven’t even written anything for the bridge or the last part of the second verse.”
“No,” Fujigaya agreed, replaying it through his head, unconsciously setting down the takeout and reaching for the score instead. Kitayama sat on the arm of the couch, still cradling the guitar as Fujigaya tapped out the beat, staring intently at the sheets before singing. The line altered slightly - not too much, but enough to tell, and he quickly glanced at Kitayama in question, unsure. It wasn’t his song and he still wasn’t quite sure what would work and what would with Kitayama.
After a moment’s thought, Kitayama nodded, sliding down onto the couch next to Fujigaya. “Like this, right?” he said, mimicking Fujigaya on guitar, “… Yes,” he nodded, more decisive this time, reaching for one of the pencils on the table. “Sing it again?”
Fujigaya sang, repeating the line perfectly, watching as Kitayama scribbled along the top of the sheet, his lips flicking up into a small, satisfied smile. Their eyes met for a moment and Kitayama’s smile went crooked. “Not a bad voice.”
“Thanks,” Fujigaya murmured, suddenly looking at all the music and not at Kitayama, cheeks warm. “Also, this line right here…”
Sometime later, they ended up with paper scattered everywhere, Fujigaya eventually adopting his own pencil as he and Kitayama worked through the second verse and then moved onto… something else. Lines had worked together and then bled out of the song into something else, and he gave the four pages on his lap an amused smile.
“I’m not sure what we’re doing anymore,” he laughed as he tried to make sense of chords and scribbled notes and what almost passed as lyrics. “
Kitayama smiled crookedly, tapping his fingers on his guitar in rhythm. “This, my friend, is a ballad. We are singing a love song.”
“How ironic,” Fujigaya said, leaning down over the next page, “Speaking of which, I think we should use something else instead of ‘I love you’ for the last line of the chorus.”
“Mm, maybe. Give me the first three measures again?” Kitayama muttered, hunching over his guitar, staring intently at one of the papers on the table, and there was this strange intensity in his expression that Fujigaya felt he’d never seen before, on anyone ever.
“Taisuke,” Kitayama prompted again, but Fujigaya let the papers slide off his lap as he leaned forward. The fire was gone from Kitayama’s eyes, but it left a lingering warmth that Fujigaya could not resist.
“I’m probably not drunk enough for this,” he confessed, resting a hand on Kitayama’s knee. He balanced precariously for a moment before taking the plunge, pressing their mouths together and suddenly there were butterflies in his stomach like a shower of fireworks.
With cheeks flaming red, he pulled away a few moments later. He wasn’t drunk enough for it and he stared at his socks, but they were really Kitayama’s socks and that made the butterflies turn themselves into a hurricane of nerves.
“Dorkface,” Kitayama said, and there was a sudden surge of affection in the word that Fujigaya jerked upright in surprise, and suddenly Kitayama was there, setting the guitar out of the way and sliding his hand over Fujigaya’s cheek and Fujigaya felt himself melt a little, letting Kitayama guide him into another kiss.
“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this either,” Kitayama whispered, and Fujigaya’s laughter was a gasp against his lips before Kitayama closed the gap between them.
Kitayama tasted like sunlight and cherries, and maybe it was just the romantic in Fujigaya’s mind, but he loved it.
One kiss soon became more as Kitayama’s fingers tangling in Fujigaya’s hair, papers and silly love songs forgotten as he pushed Fujigaya down on the couch. His mouth was firm and demanding, and Fujigaya lost himself in the sensations. Pulling Kitayama down for a longer, more passionate kiss, Fujigaya decided that Christmas Eve wasn’t turning out so badly.
~
When Fujigaya finally swam his way back to consciousness, everything was warm bliss, relaxed and hazy. With the blankets tugged up almost over his head, the room was filled with grey light, filtering in through the crack in the curtains.
Hand tucked under his cheek, Fujigaya yawned, lazily stretching his legs out as he glanced around the room. He admittedly hadn’t seen much of the room the night before, as he’d been rather occupied.
Kitayama shifted beside him, an arm wrapping around Fujigaya’s waist, nosing at the nape of his neck. “I have an idea,” Kitayama murmured, voice still thick with sleep as he pressed a kiss to Fujigaya’s shoulder. “How about we pull the covers higher, go to sleep for a bit longer, and you can spend Christmas with me too.”
It was an idea that Fujigaya was not entirely opposed to, but before he could answer, there was a sudden loud buzzing coming from somewhere in the room. Kitayama chuckled, the sound rumbling through Fujigaya with how the man was pressed up against his back. “I think that’s yours,” Kitayama said, lips brushing over skin. Fujigaya let out a whine of complaint, loathe to move.
But swing an arm over the edge of the bed he did, to grope around and eventually finding his pants. Fumbling through the pockets, he managed to snatch up the offending piece of technology. “Senga, it’s too early for this.”
Senga was sounded entirely too cheerful and awake, even over the phone, “Eeeh, Taipi, it’s past noon! How are you? You weren’t answering my texts, so I just thought I’d see if you wanted me and Nika to come back or something...“
Fujigaya took refuge under the covers again, phone tucked against his ear as he chuckled. “No, it’s fine,” he said, when Senga finally paused, “I ended up finding stuff to do.” He let out a yelp as Kitayama’s fingers spidered down his side, jamming an elbow back. “Stop that!”
“Never,” Kitayama chuckled, too amused to mind the second time Fujigaya jabbed his elbow back.
“Who’s that?” Senga said, confused.
Fujigaya whined again, swatting Kitayama one more time for good measure. “It’s nothing.”
“Hey,” Kitayama interrupted, “Since when am I a thing, Daisuke?”
“Taipi’s got someone in bed with him,” Senga could be heard clear as day, obviously talking to Nikaido.
“Actually,” Kitayama hoisted himself up on an elbow, still grinning as he pulled the phone closer to his mouth, “he’s in my bed.”
“Ehhhh!? Who is that!”
“No one!” Fujigaya yelped, indignantly reclaiming his phone. When glared at, Kitayama just gave him a smug grin and a peace sign.
“That is a someone, Fujigaya,” Nikaido said, slightly softer than Senga, but still distinct.
“No, it’s not,” Fujigaya groaned, “I went to that Crazy Rainbow bar and started talking to the bartender…” Then ended up going over to his place, and writing a song, and then sleeping with him - all the things Fujigaya wasn’t going to tell Senga or Nikaido over the phone.
“What? You went to a bar and hooked up with the bartender?!” Senga gasped, and behind him Nikaido crowed.
“Told you he could take care of himself!”
“Shut up,” Fujigaya hissed, pushing at Kitayama’s face before he could try stealing the phone again. “I’ll talk to you later Kento, have fun.” He hung up before Senga could properly say farewell, and turned to glower at Kitayama.
“That was fun,” Kitayama said, unrepentantly kissing along Fujigaya's collarbone. Fujigaya made a jab for his gut again, but this time Kitayama caught his hand, easily pinning it to the bed. “Play nice. Who was that? Roommates?”
“Roommate and his boyfriend,” Fujigaya corrected, resignedly relaxing back onto the bed, eyes closing and letting the tension wash back off him, “They’re the ones who went to Nagoya.”
“Mmm~.” Kitayama reached down, tugging the blankets up over them both. “Well, they sound like fun.”
“Nosy,” Fujigaya grumbled, harmless enough though. With Kitayama solid and warm beside him, it was easy to think about falling asleep again, even after the call, but before he could finish that thought, his phone rang again.
Kitayama’s hand darted out, snatching the phone up off the blanket while swiftly pinning Fujigaya down. “Hello~.”
“Hey, Mitsu!” That was when Fujigaya stopped trying to throw Kitayama off him, because it was Yokoo, loud and clear. “How’re you doing? I was just calling…” There was a sudden pause and Fujigaya could practically hear the puzzle pieces falling into place before Yokoo spoke again. “Kitayama Hiromitsu, what are you doing with Taisuke’s phone?”
Fujigaya took the chance to snatch at his phone, but Kitayama evaded him, laughing in disbelief, “Yokoo-san, you never said your roommate was so noisy.”
“Watta!” Fujigaya wailed, making another grab and missing. Grinning, crookedly, Kitayama passed him the phone. “Wataru!”
“Taisuke! ... What are you doing with Kitayama?”
Fujigaya wriggled away from Kitayama, cupping the phone to his ear, “it’s a long story? I dunno, I…” he glanced at Kitayama and shook his head, more to himself than to anyone else, “I’ll explain later? How’re you?”
“I’m fine,” Yokoo said, chuckling softly. “I don’t think I’ll be back until after New Year’s though. I already talked to Senga, he said you were in Tokyo alone… but apparently you’re not.”
Still listening in, Kitayama turned completely smug, leaning over to rest his chin on Fujigaya’s shoulder.
“I guess not,” Fujigaya agreed with a bemused smile. “I think I might actually have plans for New Year’s…”
“I shan’t keep you from your Christmas plans,” Yokoo teased, laughing before Fujigaya could protest. “I’ll talk to you soon, Taisuke.”
As the call ended, Kitayama looked at the phone and then at Fujigaya, eyebrow raised. “Anyone else going to call?”
Fujigaya quickly shook his head, sliding back under the covers. “…Nooo.” Tamamori was not nearly as generous as Yokoo or Senga and was probably either still sleeping or capitalizing on any spare moment with Miyata. “I don’t thi-“
His phone rang.
Kitayama picked up the phone before Fujigaya could, and Fujigaya saw a flash of [Tanaka Koki] before the man turned the phone off. Dropping it over the side of the bed, Kitayama gave him one of those slow, crooked smiles. Wrapping an arm around Fujigaya’s waist, Kitayama tugged him back under the covers, lips ghosting along Fujigaya’s jaw with a whispered “Merry Christmas~.”
Fujigaya laughed, heart lightened. Christmas definitely hadn’t turned out so bad after all.