Fanfiction - Unreasonable/Unreadable
Title: Unreasonable/Unreadable
Author: crazy_otaku911 and omoikkiri
Pairing: Ki/F
Rating: PG
Summary: Fujigaya isn't really thrilled with Kitayama's latest incident. Kitayama thinks he's being way too womanly. Nikaido just can't win.
Disclaimer: This work is purely fiction.
Warnings: Minor language.
A/N: Beta'd by omoikkiri ♥ She says it doesn't count. =\
YAY COLLAB 8DD ♥ Neither of us are taking credit for the title! It's NIKAIDO'S FAULT, I tell you. Really, omoikkiri just likes making everything his fault. Horrible, I know.
“Taisuke,” Yokoo's voice was filled with warning. “Don't you dare. Taisuke!”
Along with Yokoo, Ft2 were hovering in front of their dressing room, trying to indiscreetly get in the way between Fujigaya and the door. But Fujigaya ignored them all, shoving Nikaido aside as he stalked through the entrance. He was seething, his fingers still shaking as they had been for what felt like hours.
Kitayama stood next to the couch, half dressed, a couple of ice packs scattered around, and a gigantic bottle of flavored tea in hand. He glanced up and nodded a casual greeting. “Hey, Taipi~.”
“What were you thinking!?” Fujigaya exploded at the sight of Kitayama’s tired smile, voice shooting up several octaves higher than normal. “Of all the damn things that could’ve gone wrong, you fucking fall off the stage. Hiro, we've been at this for how long? How do you just walk backwards off a stage?!” He was howling, the fury pulsing through him as he glared at down at the other, suddenly rather happy with the fact that he was noticeably taller than Kitayama. “Are you stupid? What the hell were you doing!?”
Gazing back at Fujigaya steadily, Kitayama flicked an eyebrow upwards, not responding immediately. A dry, half smile played on his lips. “I did it on purpose, you know, thought it’d make a good story for the magazines.”
Choking on his own emotions, Fujigaya stared at the older man for a moment. Then he lunged.
There was a long, pregnant pause as Kitayama held a hand to his cheek, the one that Fujigaya had just slapped, regarding the other for a few moments.
“Way to be a girl, Taipi,” he said, finally. The corner of his lips were quirked slightly upwards, but there was no smile in the tone of his voice like there usually was when he was genuinely amused.
Deflating, Fujigaya looked down at his fingers. “Do you have any idea what it feels like?” he breathed out, sounding shaky. “You were just suddenly gone... and then we could just hear your mic... hitting the floor.”
And all he could remember was oh god, oh god, oh god. It had been like that time with Tamamori all over again; he'd never forget those split seconds of terror, and now he had a fresh set of images to haunt him forever. He could feel his throat close, emotions overloading.
Warm fingers laced through his own (which were still trembling a little) and Kitayama pulled him close. Fujigaya couldn’t understand how Kitayama’s hands could be so steady, after the physical impact of his entire body hitting the ground, but that was Kitayama through and through. Forever a fucking rock who would hold himself together even if the entire world fell apart.
“Look... I'm sorry,” the older man murmured, slowly, softly, rubbing Fujigaya's back soothingly with the hand that wasn’t gripping his.
Fujigaya pushed away, muttered under his breath, swiped at his eyes. No, he wasn't crying. He was just tired. “Asshole... You fall off the stage and I'm the one who needs a hug.”
“I'm not the crybaby,” Kitayama joked, his smile bright, though it just didn't quite seem to meet his eyes. “And anyway, isn’t that my line?”
Fujigaya wondered if he was reading too much into things. There was a vast library of emotions Kitayama kept hidden, and Fujigaya was always looking for new ways to read the older man, liked to think that he was familiar enough with Kitayama to see through him sometimes. He hadn't gotten it down perfectly though. Kitayama's mind was in a language that Fujigaya hadn't fully decoded yet.
He was suddenly aware of how tired and worn Kitayama looked, like a favorite book that had been dropped too many times. Belatedly, he realized he wasn't helping anything at all, merely venting his own frustrations and taking it out on Kitayama. How supportive was that?
“Let's go home,” he suggested softly, head tilted towards the floor and peeking out at the other through a curtain of fringe.
Kitayama gave him an amused look, genuine this time. “Are you inviting yourself over, after yelling at me for no reason? Typical…”
Chuckling softly, Fujigaya grabbed both their bags and slung one over each shoulder. “Of course~” he sang, “Someone has to take care of you in the morning. Bear.”
Kitayama just shrugged, and headed towards the door, picking up his own shirt and Fujigaya’s jacket from the back of a chair on the way out. Lest Kitayama get there before him, Fujigaya rushed forward to pull open the door.
There was a sudden flurry of activity, and curses rang out as the two found the rest of their band (minus Yokoo, who was leaning against the opposite wall and pinching the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering expression) in a heap on the floor.
“Retards,” Nikaido mumbled under his breath. “No fun.”
“I told you they weren't going to brawl!” Miyata gave them both a peace sign. “HiroSuke loves each other almost as much as TamaMiya, ne?”
“I thought Mitsu would at least hit back!” Nikaido insisted.
Kitayama laughed, petting Nikaido's head as he stepped over a small pile of legs belonging to miscellaneous Kis-my-ft2 members. “It's rude to hit girls, Nika-chan~ Learn some manners!”
“Oi!” Fujigaya exclaimed, hurrying after him. “Keep that up and I'll finished Stage-san's work.”
Tamamori propped himself up on an elbow and blinked at their backs.
Kitayama merely smiled.
______________________________________
A/N: First collab ever done and I'm actually kinda fond of this. SORRY TO YOU, KAWAI. )8 ♥
Author: crazy_otaku911 and omoikkiri
Pairing: Ki/F
Rating: PG
Summary: Fujigaya isn't really thrilled with Kitayama's latest incident. Kitayama thinks he's being way too womanly. Nikaido just can't win.
Disclaimer: This work is purely fiction.
Warnings: Minor language.
A/N: Beta'd by omoikkiri ♥ She says it doesn't count. =\
YAY COLLAB 8DD ♥ Neither of us are taking credit for the title! It's NIKAIDO'S FAULT, I tell you. Really, omoikkiri just likes making everything his fault. Horrible, I know.
“Taisuke,” Yokoo's voice was filled with warning. “Don't you dare. Taisuke!”
Along with Yokoo, Ft2 were hovering in front of their dressing room, trying to indiscreetly get in the way between Fujigaya and the door. But Fujigaya ignored them all, shoving Nikaido aside as he stalked through the entrance. He was seething, his fingers still shaking as they had been for what felt like hours.
Kitayama stood next to the couch, half dressed, a couple of ice packs scattered around, and a gigantic bottle of flavored tea in hand. He glanced up and nodded a casual greeting. “Hey, Taipi~.”
“What were you thinking!?” Fujigaya exploded at the sight of Kitayama’s tired smile, voice shooting up several octaves higher than normal. “Of all the damn things that could’ve gone wrong, you fucking fall off the stage. Hiro, we've been at this for how long? How do you just walk backwards off a stage?!” He was howling, the fury pulsing through him as he glared at down at the other, suddenly rather happy with the fact that he was noticeably taller than Kitayama. “Are you stupid? What the hell were you doing!?”
Gazing back at Fujigaya steadily, Kitayama flicked an eyebrow upwards, not responding immediately. A dry, half smile played on his lips. “I did it on purpose, you know, thought it’d make a good story for the magazines.”
Choking on his own emotions, Fujigaya stared at the older man for a moment. Then he lunged.
There was a long, pregnant pause as Kitayama held a hand to his cheek, the one that Fujigaya had just slapped, regarding the other for a few moments.
“Way to be a girl, Taipi,” he said, finally. The corner of his lips were quirked slightly upwards, but there was no smile in the tone of his voice like there usually was when he was genuinely amused.
Deflating, Fujigaya looked down at his fingers. “Do you have any idea what it feels like?” he breathed out, sounding shaky. “You were just suddenly gone... and then we could just hear your mic... hitting the floor.”
And all he could remember was oh god, oh god, oh god. It had been like that time with Tamamori all over again; he'd never forget those split seconds of terror, and now he had a fresh set of images to haunt him forever. He could feel his throat close, emotions overloading.
Warm fingers laced through his own (which were still trembling a little) and Kitayama pulled him close. Fujigaya couldn’t understand how Kitayama’s hands could be so steady, after the physical impact of his entire body hitting the ground, but that was Kitayama through and through. Forever a fucking rock who would hold himself together even if the entire world fell apart.
“Look... I'm sorry,” the older man murmured, slowly, softly, rubbing Fujigaya's back soothingly with the hand that wasn’t gripping his.
Fujigaya pushed away, muttered under his breath, swiped at his eyes. No, he wasn't crying. He was just tired. “Asshole... You fall off the stage and I'm the one who needs a hug.”
“I'm not the crybaby,” Kitayama joked, his smile bright, though it just didn't quite seem to meet his eyes. “And anyway, isn’t that my line?”
Fujigaya wondered if he was reading too much into things. There was a vast library of emotions Kitayama kept hidden, and Fujigaya was always looking for new ways to read the older man, liked to think that he was familiar enough with Kitayama to see through him sometimes. He hadn't gotten it down perfectly though. Kitayama's mind was in a language that Fujigaya hadn't fully decoded yet.
He was suddenly aware of how tired and worn Kitayama looked, like a favorite book that had been dropped too many times. Belatedly, he realized he wasn't helping anything at all, merely venting his own frustrations and taking it out on Kitayama. How supportive was that?
“Let's go home,” he suggested softly, head tilted towards the floor and peeking out at the other through a curtain of fringe.
Kitayama gave him an amused look, genuine this time. “Are you inviting yourself over, after yelling at me for no reason? Typical…”
Chuckling softly, Fujigaya grabbed both their bags and slung one over each shoulder. “Of course~” he sang, “Someone has to take care of you in the morning. Bear.”
Kitayama just shrugged, and headed towards the door, picking up his own shirt and Fujigaya’s jacket from the back of a chair on the way out. Lest Kitayama get there before him, Fujigaya rushed forward to pull open the door.
There was a sudden flurry of activity, and curses rang out as the two found the rest of their band (minus Yokoo, who was leaning against the opposite wall and pinching the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering expression) in a heap on the floor.
“Retards,” Nikaido mumbled under his breath. “No fun.”
“I told you they weren't going to brawl!” Miyata gave them both a peace sign. “HiroSuke loves each other almost as much as TamaMiya, ne?”
“I thought Mitsu would at least hit back!” Nikaido insisted.
Kitayama laughed, petting Nikaido's head as he stepped over a small pile of legs belonging to miscellaneous Kis-my-ft2 members. “It's rude to hit girls, Nika-chan~ Learn some manners!”
“Oi!” Fujigaya exclaimed, hurrying after him. “Keep that up and I'll finished Stage-san's work.”
Tamamori propped himself up on an elbow and blinked at their backs.
Kitayama merely smiled.
______________________________________
A/N: First collab ever done and I'm actually kinda fond of this. SORRY TO YOU, KAWAI. )8 ♥