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zukkokyaTitle: Mealtime, Awake, Hair, Tutorial, The Fourth Time
Fandom: JE
Pairing/characters: Takki/Tsubasa, Ryo/Tsubasa, Hina/Yoko
Rating: PG
Word Count: Collectively around ~1,500
Disclaimer: Total fiction.
Summary: The first three are Takki/Tsubasa fics I wrote for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fuyukoi on the train, the second two are fics I wrote for the wish meme. Sleep is key in at least three of these, so proceed with warm milk caution.
Mealtime (AKA the one set in the universe in which Takki and Tsubasa are hosts who fail a lot and are really only ever successful at life while in the privacy of their apartment which they share because they are an inch from being married and they have a teddy bear and its name is Puck because I've decided that they watch Glee for some reason)
After work ends at ten AM, Takki treats Tsubasa to dinner/breakfast at a yakisoba place near their apartment. Tsubasa is almost asleep, and he barely finishes a quarter of his food, but he seems to appreciate the thought behind the meal if not the meal itself.
Today is Friday, a day when they both have regular customers who come in to see them, so it's not surprising that they're more exhausted than normal. Takki, at least, has been daydreaming of their bed for the last six hours.
They're lucky enough to catch a rapid express, and even though their stop is only four minutes away, Takki falls asleep on Tsubasa's shoulder. He only wakes up because Tsubasa ignites his lighter so close to Takki's nose that he almost singes Takki's nose hairs.
Once they're through the front door, Tsubasa tries to steal the first shower, which is unfair, so Takki goes in after him to deliver payback, and they both just end up showering at the same time.
At noon, they fall asleep with the curtains drawn, elbowing each other until they're comfortable.
"Good night," Takki says.
"Mnfngh," Tsubasa replies.
Awake
Tsubasa wakes up around six in the morning because he can't breathe. Takki's sleeping on top of him and as slim as Takki looks, he's put on enough muscle recently that he can't get away with sleeping on top of Tsubasa the way he did when they were teenagers.
"Oi, get off," Tsubasa croaks. "Hide-Hideaki, you giant pain in the ass."
Takki yawns into Tsubasa's neck and murmurs, "I think so," because he's apparently dreaming an entirely different conversation.
Tsubasa dislodges Takki the way he usually does, by pinching Takki's neck until Takki yelps. Then he sputters something about crabs, a remark that heralds the return of Tsubasa's suspicion that Takki has skipped pretty far down the path toward genuine insanity.
"That hurt," Takki says, frowning. From the tone of his voice he hasn't quite figured out what happened yet.
"Apparently, there was a crab," Tsubasa says. "Don't worry, I fought it off."
Takki's expression says he doesn't buy that but he's too tired to investigate further, so Tsubasa pushes his luck and gives Takki a sweet, guileless smile.
In the end, Tsubasa gets what he wants--restful sleep, with Takki under him.
Hair
Whenever Takki dyes his hair, Tsubasa always thinks the color looks decent (it's Takki, after all), but he's also firmly of the opinion that black looks best on him. Sometimes the universe fucks up deciding people's hair colors, but Takki's very, very wrong to challenge his genetics on this one.
Takki's hair right now is this abominable color that's kind of brown but also sort of purple and maybe even a little red, and trying to figure out what the hell it is has been doing horrible things to Tsubasa's soul and sanity.
"Oi," he says. "What color is your hair?"
Takki's head doesn't emerge from underneath Tsubasa's pillow, which leaves Tsubasa to address the sweat-damp hair curling on Takki's neck.
"Wake up for a minute," he says. He prods Takki's shoulder with his chin and watches as Takki's arm lifts and flails around in a vague figure-eight pattern that never even comes close to hitting him.
"So," Tsubasa says, "what color is your hair?"
"Stoppit," mumbles Takki.
"What. Color. Is. Your. Hair?"
"Eh?" Takki's head turns to one side, but remains under the pillow.
"You heard me."
"It's brown."
"That is not brown. That is some weird mix of brown and purple and red. Did you ASK for that color?"
Again, through the pillow Takki replies, "Yeah. I asked for brown. It's brown."
Tsubasa shakes his head. "What irresponsible teacher let you advance past elementary school?" He strokes a hand through Takki's bizarre hair. "In no world is this brown."
"It's red, then," Takki says.
"You have no idea, do you?" Tsubasa asks. He sifts through Takki's hair, looking for the black roots, but it's too newly dyed for any to show.
"Well, I like it. Does it matter what it's called?"
Tsubasa thinks about that. "No, but I can't sleep, so I thought it'd make for good subject for conversation."
"You're a horrible person. Shut up and let me sleep now?"
Tsubasa takes his pillow off Takki's face and lands a kiss on the corner of Takki's mouth. "Did you just say 'sex?' I couldn't hear you through the pillow."
Takki groans in what is probably frustration, but Tsubasa chooses to hear as anticipation.
"Isn't it strange?" Tsubasa muses. "My mind must really be gone if I still find you attractive with that unicorn vomit for hair."
Takki chooses to answer that by cuffing the back of Tsubasa's head, an action Tsubasa chooses to ignore because it must be rough on Takki to have hair the color of nightmares.
Tutorial
Once, when they were all juniors, Tsubasa tried to teach Ryo a dance routine that involved the two of them getting pretty close, and it went about as well as Tsubasa had expected. Ryo took every opportunity to call out objections and mashed Tsubasa's bare feet more than once under the rough ridges of his sneakers. Ultimately, it was hilarious for everyone watching and even though Tsubasa has never seen photographic evidence, he's almost sure he saw a camera flash at some point.
Now the situation is repeating itself, and Tsubasa is left wondering why he never learns from past mistakes. Because while Ryo is much older now, and he looks more legal than he used to, Tsubasa's convinced that this lesson is going to go just like last time's did.
At least this time there's no audience. Last time, they had Takki and Yamapi and Subaru in the corner cackling at Tsubasa's suffering and Ryo's complaining. This time, they're alone.
Ryo tenses up whenever Tsubasa touches him to correct his stance or point out what muscles he's tensing, and the whole thing is getting a little frustrating. Flamenco calls for fluidity of body, and Ryo's frozen muscles are making that a difficult goal to achieve.
Finally, Tsubasa gets impatient and grabs Ryo's shoulders. He shakes Ryo's torso lightly and says, "Relax, Ryo-kun," in a joking, almost exasperated voice.
Ryo looks annoyed for half a second, then seems to force his expression and his body to relax. The muscles under Tsubasa's hands loosen a fraction, and the creases in his forehead smooth out. "Sorry," he says. "I'm not used to...it feels weird. I'm sorry."
Tsubasa could have gone home an hour ago but Ryo ran into him and asked for a favor, and Ryo's always been congenial to Tsubasa, so he didn't want to say no.
"It's fine. Just..." Tsubasa pushes his luck a little and pulls Ryo closer. "Let me show you how to do this, and then I'll give you some space, okay?"
Ryo drops his shoulders lower, maybe trying to keep them loose, and nods.
They get through a few steps, Tsubasa counting out the steps and correcting Ryo's mistakes out loud. Ryo seems to focus on that instead of Tsubasa's proximity and soon he's letting some of his inhibitions go and the rhythm comes more easily to him.
When they stop, Ryo is grinning and Tsubasa says, "Congratulations. You're kind of okay now."
Ryo snorts. "Thanks." He squeezes Tsubasa's hip, and that's when Tsubasa notices that Ryo's been holding onto him for the last...how long?
Something occurs to him. "When are you going to use this, by the way?"
Ryo lifts his eyebrows, looking surprised. "Eh? I don't know. It just seemed like something I should know."
Tsubasa blinks.
Well. That was...huh.
"Well, uh, thanks for today," Ryo says, and then he jogs for the door.
Tsubasa doesn't notice until he takes his jeans off later that there's a slip of paper with an email address in his side pocket.
...Huh.
The Fourth Time
Hina can’t keep waking up at three in the morning with Yoko’s hair in his mouth. It’s disgusting, and it's weird. See, Yoko’s developed this habit recently of rolling over in the middle of the night and trying to use Hina’s neck as a pillow. That alone would be annoying, but Yoko’s hair is longer now than it has been in years, and it gets everywhere when they’re this close. Hina is deeply uncomfortable with the fact that he can now say with confidence that he knows what Yoko’s hair tastes like. (Subaru thinks it sounds kinky, but Subaru has that opinion about almost everything.)
This is the fourth time it’s happened, and it’s the fourth time Hina’s dealt with it by pushing Yoko off and wedging a pillow between them to serve as a buffer. But this time Yoko wakes up and says, “You just hit me in the face.”
“Your hair was in my mouth,” Hina tells him.
Yoko stares at him like he’s not quite seeing straight. “But you hit me in the face.”
“Your hair was in my mouth,” Hina says, careful to enunciate every syllable as if it’s its own word.
Yoko blinks, then squints. “No I didn’t?”
Hina glares at him. “That response doesn’t even make sense,” he snaps.
Yoko yawns. “Whatever. You’re weird,” he says. “I’m going to sleep.” He flings the pillow at the wall and sets his head on Hina’s chest. “Good night, weirdo.”
Hina sighs, slaps Yoko upside the head with the smallest amount of energy he can dredge up, and resigns himself to sleeping with hair in his mouth.
That’s probably what real love is, Hina suspects.
Fandom: JE
Pairing/characters: Takki/Tsubasa, Ryo/Tsubasa, Hina/Yoko
Rating: PG
Word Count: Collectively around ~1,500
Disclaimer: Total fiction.
Summary: The first three are Takki/Tsubasa fics I wrote for
fuyukoi on the train, the second two are fics I wrote for the wish meme. Sleep is key in at least three of these, so proceed with Mealtime (AKA the one set in the universe in which Takki and Tsubasa are hosts who fail a lot and are really only ever successful at life while in the privacy of their apartment which they share because they are an inch from being married and they have a teddy bear and its name is Puck because I've decided that they watch Glee for some reason)
After work ends at ten AM, Takki treats Tsubasa to dinner/breakfast at a yakisoba place near their apartment. Tsubasa is almost asleep, and he barely finishes a quarter of his food, but he seems to appreciate the thought behind the meal if not the meal itself.
Today is Friday, a day when they both have regular customers who come in to see them, so it's not surprising that they're more exhausted than normal. Takki, at least, has been daydreaming of their bed for the last six hours.
They're lucky enough to catch a rapid express, and even though their stop is only four minutes away, Takki falls asleep on Tsubasa's shoulder. He only wakes up because Tsubasa ignites his lighter so close to Takki's nose that he almost singes Takki's nose hairs.
Once they're through the front door, Tsubasa tries to steal the first shower, which is unfair, so Takki goes in after him to deliver payback, and they both just end up showering at the same time.
At noon, they fall asleep with the curtains drawn, elbowing each other until they're comfortable.
"Good night," Takki says.
"Mnfngh," Tsubasa replies.
Awake
Tsubasa wakes up around six in the morning because he can't breathe. Takki's sleeping on top of him and as slim as Takki looks, he's put on enough muscle recently that he can't get away with sleeping on top of Tsubasa the way he did when they were teenagers.
"Oi, get off," Tsubasa croaks. "Hide-Hideaki, you giant pain in the ass."
Takki yawns into Tsubasa's neck and murmurs, "I think so," because he's apparently dreaming an entirely different conversation.
Tsubasa dislodges Takki the way he usually does, by pinching Takki's neck until Takki yelps. Then he sputters something about crabs, a remark that heralds the return of Tsubasa's suspicion that Takki has skipped pretty far down the path toward genuine insanity.
"That hurt," Takki says, frowning. From the tone of his voice he hasn't quite figured out what happened yet.
"Apparently, there was a crab," Tsubasa says. "Don't worry, I fought it off."
Takki's expression says he doesn't buy that but he's too tired to investigate further, so Tsubasa pushes his luck and gives Takki a sweet, guileless smile.
In the end, Tsubasa gets what he wants--restful sleep, with Takki under him.
Hair
Whenever Takki dyes his hair, Tsubasa always thinks the color looks decent (it's Takki, after all), but he's also firmly of the opinion that black looks best on him. Sometimes the universe fucks up deciding people's hair colors, but Takki's very, very wrong to challenge his genetics on this one.
Takki's hair right now is this abominable color that's kind of brown but also sort of purple and maybe even a little red, and trying to figure out what the hell it is has been doing horrible things to Tsubasa's soul and sanity.
"Oi," he says. "What color is your hair?"
Takki's head doesn't emerge from underneath Tsubasa's pillow, which leaves Tsubasa to address the sweat-damp hair curling on Takki's neck.
"Wake up for a minute," he says. He prods Takki's shoulder with his chin and watches as Takki's arm lifts and flails around in a vague figure-eight pattern that never even comes close to hitting him.
"So," Tsubasa says, "what color is your hair?"
"Stoppit," mumbles Takki.
"What. Color. Is. Your. Hair?"
"Eh?" Takki's head turns to one side, but remains under the pillow.
"You heard me."
"It's brown."
"That is not brown. That is some weird mix of brown and purple and red. Did you ASK for that color?"
Again, through the pillow Takki replies, "Yeah. I asked for brown. It's brown."
Tsubasa shakes his head. "What irresponsible teacher let you advance past elementary school?" He strokes a hand through Takki's bizarre hair. "In no world is this brown."
"It's red, then," Takki says.
"You have no idea, do you?" Tsubasa asks. He sifts through Takki's hair, looking for the black roots, but it's too newly dyed for any to show.
"Well, I like it. Does it matter what it's called?"
Tsubasa thinks about that. "No, but I can't sleep, so I thought it'd make for good subject for conversation."
"You're a horrible person. Shut up and let me sleep now?"
Tsubasa takes his pillow off Takki's face and lands a kiss on the corner of Takki's mouth. "Did you just say 'sex?' I couldn't hear you through the pillow."
Takki groans in what is probably frustration, but Tsubasa chooses to hear as anticipation.
"Isn't it strange?" Tsubasa muses. "My mind must really be gone if I still find you attractive with that unicorn vomit for hair."
Takki chooses to answer that by cuffing the back of Tsubasa's head, an action Tsubasa chooses to ignore because it must be rough on Takki to have hair the color of nightmares.
Tutorial
Once, when they were all juniors, Tsubasa tried to teach Ryo a dance routine that involved the two of them getting pretty close, and it went about as well as Tsubasa had expected. Ryo took every opportunity to call out objections and mashed Tsubasa's bare feet more than once under the rough ridges of his sneakers. Ultimately, it was hilarious for everyone watching and even though Tsubasa has never seen photographic evidence, he's almost sure he saw a camera flash at some point.
Now the situation is repeating itself, and Tsubasa is left wondering why he never learns from past mistakes. Because while Ryo is much older now, and he looks more legal than he used to, Tsubasa's convinced that this lesson is going to go just like last time's did.
At least this time there's no audience. Last time, they had Takki and Yamapi and Subaru in the corner cackling at Tsubasa's suffering and Ryo's complaining. This time, they're alone.
Ryo tenses up whenever Tsubasa touches him to correct his stance or point out what muscles he's tensing, and the whole thing is getting a little frustrating. Flamenco calls for fluidity of body, and Ryo's frozen muscles are making that a difficult goal to achieve.
Finally, Tsubasa gets impatient and grabs Ryo's shoulders. He shakes Ryo's torso lightly and says, "Relax, Ryo-kun," in a joking, almost exasperated voice.
Ryo looks annoyed for half a second, then seems to force his expression and his body to relax. The muscles under Tsubasa's hands loosen a fraction, and the creases in his forehead smooth out. "Sorry," he says. "I'm not used to...it feels weird. I'm sorry."
Tsubasa could have gone home an hour ago but Ryo ran into him and asked for a favor, and Ryo's always been congenial to Tsubasa, so he didn't want to say no.
"It's fine. Just..." Tsubasa pushes his luck a little and pulls Ryo closer. "Let me show you how to do this, and then I'll give you some space, okay?"
Ryo drops his shoulders lower, maybe trying to keep them loose, and nods.
They get through a few steps, Tsubasa counting out the steps and correcting Ryo's mistakes out loud. Ryo seems to focus on that instead of Tsubasa's proximity and soon he's letting some of his inhibitions go and the rhythm comes more easily to him.
When they stop, Ryo is grinning and Tsubasa says, "Congratulations. You're kind of okay now."
Ryo snorts. "Thanks." He squeezes Tsubasa's hip, and that's when Tsubasa notices that Ryo's been holding onto him for the last...how long?
Something occurs to him. "When are you going to use this, by the way?"
Ryo lifts his eyebrows, looking surprised. "Eh? I don't know. It just seemed like something I should know."
Tsubasa blinks.
Well. That was...huh.
"Well, uh, thanks for today," Ryo says, and then he jogs for the door.
Tsubasa doesn't notice until he takes his jeans off later that there's a slip of paper with an email address in his side pocket.
...Huh.
The Fourth Time
Hina can’t keep waking up at three in the morning with Yoko’s hair in his mouth. It’s disgusting, and it's weird. See, Yoko’s developed this habit recently of rolling over in the middle of the night and trying to use Hina’s neck as a pillow. That alone would be annoying, but Yoko’s hair is longer now than it has been in years, and it gets everywhere when they’re this close. Hina is deeply uncomfortable with the fact that he can now say with confidence that he knows what Yoko’s hair tastes like. (Subaru thinks it sounds kinky, but Subaru has that opinion about almost everything.)
This is the fourth time it’s happened, and it’s the fourth time Hina’s dealt with it by pushing Yoko off and wedging a pillow between them to serve as a buffer. But this time Yoko wakes up and says, “You just hit me in the face.”
“Your hair was in my mouth,” Hina tells him.
Yoko stares at him like he’s not quite seeing straight. “But you hit me in the face.”
“Your hair was in my mouth,” Hina says, careful to enunciate every syllable as if it’s its own word.
Yoko blinks, then squints. “No I didn’t?”
Hina glares at him. “That response doesn’t even make sense,” he snaps.
Yoko yawns. “Whatever. You’re weird,” he says. “I’m going to sleep.” He flings the pillow at the wall and sets his head on Hina’s chest. “Good night, weirdo.”
Hina sighs, slaps Yoko upside the head with the smallest amount of energy he can dredge up, and resigns himself to sleeping with hair in his mouth.
That’s probably what real love is, Hina suspects.
