(no subject)
Title - Training
Author - unwritten_ideas
Rating - PG
Word Count - 881
Characters - Gackt, Jon
Disclaimer - don’t own squat and if I did, I’d be posting this with pictures
Summary - Jon's first Taekwondo session with Gackt has not been a success
Notes - blame Jon's YFC blog. The photo is kinda integral to the story.
“Ah, there you are.”
Jon cracked one closed eye open when he heard the voice, but very quickly shut it again. “Go away…”
Gackt sat down on the black couch and stared down at his fellow vocalist. “I wondered where you’d crawled off to.”
“I said, go away,” Jon whined.
Gackt leaned over and gently poked the lump lying on the floor. “I did warn you.”
Jon growled and gripped the garish leopard print blanket tighter. “I don’t want to talk to you. It’s your fault I’m in this state.”
Gackt laughed.
By ‘this state’, Jon meant that he was currently curled up in a tight little ball on the wooden decking of one of Gackt’s living rooms after a tortuous training session. He had thought that his position behind the couch, hidden against the wall in a room that Gackt rarely used would at least give him some respite from the other singer, but he wasn’t that lucky.
“You bought this on yourself,” Gackt replied, frowning slightly at how bare the couch looked without the blanket that usually covered it, but was currently wrapped around Jon. The American had stolen the comfortable pillow he liked to sit on too. “I told you to take it easy.”
“You always tell me to take it easy when we train,” Jon answered, “but, you only complain if I do.”
“True,” Gackt smiled, “but, I actually meant it this time.”
“Can we work out some kind of system,” Jon asked, “so that I can tell the difference between you telling the truth, and talking out of your ass?”
Gackt stretched out his legs. For him at least, the Taekwondo session had been beneficial. “I’m afraid it’s a skill that you’ll develop in time.”
Jon tried to stretch his legs out, but his muscles refused to co-operate. “I’ll be dead by then.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Gackt said with a roll of his eyes, “you should have had more sense than to try to match me. I’ve been doing this for four years. You couldn’t last four minutes.”
“Hey, I made at least five minutes,” Jon grumbled.
“You really shouldn’t be lying on the floor though,” Gackt said with a hint of concern, “it’s not going to help your legs.”
“I’m good, thanks,” Jon said, ignoring the cramps in his thighs.
“No, really, get up.”
“No. I’m comfortable.”
Jon heard Gackt sigh, but the other singer made no comment. They sat in silence for a few seconds, but Jon stiffened slightly when he heard the tell tale sound of a camera shutter.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Taking a photo of you,” Gackt answered. “You look ridiculous down there.”
“That’s only because of the leopard print. What kind of man covers everything in leopard print anyway?” Jon grumbled.
“Chacha,” Gackt replied. “He gave me that blanket a few years ago.”
“Chacha-san gave it to you?” Jon loosened his grip on the blanket slightly. “Oh. I actually quite like leopard print really.”
“Sure you do,” Gackt replied, amused by Jon’s backtracking as soon as he discovered Chacha was involved. Jon was slightly scared of the guitarist’s wrath, so Gackt liked to tease him about Chacha as much as possible. “But, you really should get up.”
“I said that I’m fine,” Jon said, biting down a grimace as his legs began to spasm again.
“Come on,” Gackt said, “I have a huge bathtub. A long soak in some hot water will really help work those kinks out of your legs.”
“That does sound good,” Jon agreed, “but I’ve seen your bathtub. It’s huge. If I sit in that right now, I’ll probably drown.”
Gackt laughed. “You won’t. I promise that I won’t let you drown. It’d really screw up the rest of the tour if you did.”
“Thanks for being so concerned,” Jon said. “How are you going to stop me drowning anyway? Are you going to climb in with me?”
“Yes.”
Jon’s eyes snapped open at the short, firm and completely deadpan answer from Gackt. The other singer was staring at him, his natural brown eyes full of the same determination and seriousness that Gackt showed every time he walked on stage.
It made Jon’s heart stick in his throat.
Jon swallowed. “Okay then.”
Gackt nodded and stood up. “I’ll put the water on. Do you need a hand getting up?”
“No,” Jon said, his pride refusing to ask for help, “I’m good.”
“Okay,” Gackt answered. “I’ll see you in the bathroom.”
Jon watched as Gackt left the room, and listened as his footsteps echoed down the hall. When there was no sight or sound of the other man left, Jon rolled onto his back. He knew what was waiting for him in that bathroom, and he knew it was something that he wanted. He hadn’t realised how much he’d wanted it though, until Gackt had verbalised what they’d both been thinking.
He took a deep breath and pushed the blanket from his body. He tried to get onto his knees, but his legs refused to co-operate. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled. He didn’t have the strength in his legs to stand as the taekwondo session had really, really taken it out of him.
“G!” Jon shouted. “Gackt?? A little help? Please??”
~owari
Notes
1) As you can probably guess by how quickly this has been posted after Jon's blog was posted, it's been written very quickly. Hopefully I caught all of the mistakes.
2) I'm seriously falling in love with Jon, and his antics with Gackt. I'm still a Gackt x You shipper, but JACKT is a nice distraction.
Author - unwritten_ideas
Rating - PG
Word Count - 881
Characters - Gackt, Jon
Disclaimer - don’t own squat and if I did, I’d be posting this with pictures
Summary - Jon's first Taekwondo session with Gackt has not been a success
Notes - blame Jon's YFC blog. The photo is kinda integral to the story.
“Ah, there you are.”
Jon cracked one closed eye open when he heard the voice, but very quickly shut it again. “Go away…”
Gackt sat down on the black couch and stared down at his fellow vocalist. “I wondered where you’d crawled off to.”
“I said, go away,” Jon whined.
Gackt leaned over and gently poked the lump lying on the floor. “I did warn you.”
Jon growled and gripped the garish leopard print blanket tighter. “I don’t want to talk to you. It’s your fault I’m in this state.”
Gackt laughed.
By ‘this state’, Jon meant that he was currently curled up in a tight little ball on the wooden decking of one of Gackt’s living rooms after a tortuous training session. He had thought that his position behind the couch, hidden against the wall in a room that Gackt rarely used would at least give him some respite from the other singer, but he wasn’t that lucky.
“You bought this on yourself,” Gackt replied, frowning slightly at how bare the couch looked without the blanket that usually covered it, but was currently wrapped around Jon. The American had stolen the comfortable pillow he liked to sit on too. “I told you to take it easy.”
“You always tell me to take it easy when we train,” Jon answered, “but, you only complain if I do.”
“True,” Gackt smiled, “but, I actually meant it this time.”
“Can we work out some kind of system,” Jon asked, “so that I can tell the difference between you telling the truth, and talking out of your ass?”
Gackt stretched out his legs. For him at least, the Taekwondo session had been beneficial. “I’m afraid it’s a skill that you’ll develop in time.”
Jon tried to stretch his legs out, but his muscles refused to co-operate. “I’ll be dead by then.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Gackt said with a roll of his eyes, “you should have had more sense than to try to match me. I’ve been doing this for four years. You couldn’t last four minutes.”
“Hey, I made at least five minutes,” Jon grumbled.
“You really shouldn’t be lying on the floor though,” Gackt said with a hint of concern, “it’s not going to help your legs.”
“I’m good, thanks,” Jon said, ignoring the cramps in his thighs.
“No, really, get up.”
“No. I’m comfortable.”
Jon heard Gackt sigh, but the other singer made no comment. They sat in silence for a few seconds, but Jon stiffened slightly when he heard the tell tale sound of a camera shutter.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Taking a photo of you,” Gackt answered. “You look ridiculous down there.”
“That’s only because of the leopard print. What kind of man covers everything in leopard print anyway?” Jon grumbled.
“Chacha,” Gackt replied. “He gave me that blanket a few years ago.”
“Chacha-san gave it to you?” Jon loosened his grip on the blanket slightly. “Oh. I actually quite like leopard print really.”
“Sure you do,” Gackt replied, amused by Jon’s backtracking as soon as he discovered Chacha was involved. Jon was slightly scared of the guitarist’s wrath, so Gackt liked to tease him about Chacha as much as possible. “But, you really should get up.”
“I said that I’m fine,” Jon said, biting down a grimace as his legs began to spasm again.
“Come on,” Gackt said, “I have a huge bathtub. A long soak in some hot water will really help work those kinks out of your legs.”
“That does sound good,” Jon agreed, “but I’ve seen your bathtub. It’s huge. If I sit in that right now, I’ll probably drown.”
Gackt laughed. “You won’t. I promise that I won’t let you drown. It’d really screw up the rest of the tour if you did.”
“Thanks for being so concerned,” Jon said. “How are you going to stop me drowning anyway? Are you going to climb in with me?”
“Yes.”
Jon’s eyes snapped open at the short, firm and completely deadpan answer from Gackt. The other singer was staring at him, his natural brown eyes full of the same determination and seriousness that Gackt showed every time he walked on stage.
It made Jon’s heart stick in his throat.
Jon swallowed. “Okay then.”
Gackt nodded and stood up. “I’ll put the water on. Do you need a hand getting up?”
“No,” Jon said, his pride refusing to ask for help, “I’m good.”
“Okay,” Gackt answered. “I’ll see you in the bathroom.”
Jon watched as Gackt left the room, and listened as his footsteps echoed down the hall. When there was no sight or sound of the other man left, Jon rolled onto his back. He knew what was waiting for him in that bathroom, and he knew it was something that he wanted. He hadn’t realised how much he’d wanted it though, until Gackt had verbalised what they’d both been thinking.
He took a deep breath and pushed the blanket from his body. He tried to get onto his knees, but his legs refused to co-operate. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled. He didn’t have the strength in his legs to stand as the taekwondo session had really, really taken it out of him.
“G!” Jon shouted. “Gackt?? A little help? Please??”
~owari
Notes
1) As you can probably guess by how quickly this has been posted after Jon's blog was posted, it's been written very quickly. Hopefully I caught all of the mistakes.
2) I'm seriously falling in love with Jon, and his antics with Gackt. I'm still a Gackt x You shipper, but JACKT is a nice distraction.