![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maayacolabackupTitle: Yours
Pairing: Kame/ Yamapi
Rating: R
Summary: Kame changes, when Yamapi wants him to.
Warnings: dark?, dubious consent
Notes: collab with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elanielyn for DOA 1012
SUNDAY
Yamapi calls as Kame looks between his overfull suitcase and the six pairs of shoes he has set out in front of the closet. Kame knows he’s overpacking, but he’s never quite been able to stop himself from including too many extra sets of clothing, just in case.
“Hello?” Kame says curiously into the phone, pressing it to his cheek with his shoulder as he squats down and reaches into the suitcase, pulling out a cotton shirt and carefully considering if he actually needs it. It’s the only shirt he packed that doesn’t need to be ironed, so he’s probably better off taking it along. “Yamapi?”
“I wasn’t even sure if this was still your number,” Yamapi says, with a slight laugh, and Kame’s eyebrows unfurrow at the relaxed nasal sound of the other man’s voice. It doesn’t sound like an emergency, or anything like that.
“I heard you were leaving for Cannes next week. For ’Ore Ore’.” Kame can hear Yamapi clearing his throat, and he sets the shirt back down in the suitcase, leaning back on his heels in the way Koki calls his ‘old man stance’.
“Yes,” Kame says. “I am.”
“So you must be really busy this week,” Yamapi says, and he sounds sort of disappointed, and Kame lifts his left hand up to his eye-level so he can inspect the nails on it. “Getting ready for your trip.”
“I have the week mostly off, actually,” Kame says. “Unexpectedly. I’m going to sleep until noon every day.”
“Reset your time zone?”
“Get some rest!” Kame says, and he laughs, because he knows Yamapi has his times too, where he’s stretched too thin, and he’ll be able to understand the mix of emotions Kame’s including in that laugh.
“Yeah,” Yamapi says. “That will be good for you.” He coughs, and it’s not a real cough; it’s the sound Yamapi makes when he wants attention. It’s not really a subtle sound, and Kame blinks when he hears it because it really has been a long time since he’s talked to Yamapi. They’ve just both been so busy.
“Is there something... Why did you call?” Kame asks, licking his lips and setting aside one pair of boots, deciding they can stay at home. So can one of the pairs of dress shoes; Kame will just take everything in black and grey and navy, so he won’t need brown.
“I was just...” Yamapi trails off, and Kame presses his lips together, because now there’s a strain of hesitance in his voice.
“Is everything all right? Do you need something?”
“No, no,” Yamapi says, and he sounds sure of that, but then he’s making a humming noise in the back of his throat, and Kame knows he’s not finished talking. Back when they were filming Nobuta, Yamapi’s humming noise always meant he had a question about the script, or wanted to change something to make Akira even more weird than he was in the first place. “I just wanted...”
“Wanted...” Kame says, pulling out his brown trousers and standing up with a wince as his knees crack. He pulls a hanger out of the closet and carefully hangs up his pants, pressing the creases out with practiced thumbs and sliding the trousers back into the closet.
He can hear Yamapi opening the fridge, and pull out something. “To hang out.”
“What?”
“I haven’t seen you in a while, and I saw on the news that you were going away, and I thought ‘I want to see Shuuji’.” Yamapi closes the refrigerator, loud enough that it sounds like a slam even over the phone. “So I called.”
Kame closes his eyes in thought. He really is free, and even though he’d been planning to rest, his stomach does a little flop that Yamapi actively wants to see him. There’s a little part of Kame that still remembers when Yamapi hated him, and hated sharing Jin with him, and even though that hatchet is long buried, Kame’s always had a little lingering thread of doubt. He hears Yamapi click his teeth anxiously on the other end of the line, and wonders if Yamapi’s got one too.
“You’ve got time off?” Kame asks.
“Just a little,” Yamapi says. “Well, I heard you might, so I made it so we matched.” Yamapi groans. “That sounded weird, didn’t it? I didn’t mean for it to be weird. I just wanted to see you.”
And there’s a little warmth now, spreading in his chest. “Well, then, I’d better have time for you, right?” Kame looks down at his suitcase. Much better. The shoes will fit just fine now, and there’s space left at the top for his toiletries and hair products, since he’s no longer allowed to take that sort of stuff as a carry-on.
“Right,” Yamapi says, suddenly much more sure. “You want to come out with me tomorrow?”
“I’d love to,” Kame says honestly, and there’s a tightening in his gut that tells him that, for some reason, he really, really wants to.
“Great!” Yamapi says. “I’ll call you in the morning to settle a time and place.”
“All right,” Kame says, and when Yamapi hangs up, and Kame hits the lock button on his phone and slips it back into his pocket, he sort of misses the sound of Yamapi’s voice.
MONDAY
It’s been a long time since Kame’s had enough time to meet up with his friends without worrying about having to rush somewhere else, and jobs, and lack of sleep, and since Yamapi’s schedule is not any better than his, they haven’t been able to meet for a while. Kame’s happy he gets to meet Yamapi before going to Cannes, because he knows he’s not going to have time to after he comes back, and he has kind of missed hanging out with Yamapi, even if it’s just to have a beer at one of the secluded bars Yamapi likes.
And maybe it’s because they haven’t met in so long that Kame’s actually nervous about it, which is ridiculous because this is not a date and he doesn’t even like Yamapi in that way, and if he changes his shirt three times it’s only because he has all the good ones in his suitcase, and not because he’s worried about what Yamapi will think. He’s also not anxious about Yamapi arriving five minutes late, because Kame has all the time in the world, and maybe he should order a beer so he can have something to help him stop thinking, so Kame does just that and it helps.
Yamapi looks good, when he arrives. Maybe it’s just that Kame hasn’t seen Yamapi in ages, but he looks better than the last time they met. His hair is shorter, darker, and Kame finds himself staring at Yamapi a little too long and a little too intently to show mere recognition. Kame looks away when Yamapi coughs uncomfortably, and points to the stool next to him. Yamapi orders a beer and something to eat and they smile at each other with matching smiles and blushed cheeks.
“It’s been a while,” Kame says, because as stupid as it is, after all the years they’ve known each other for, Kame suddenly can’t find something to say.
“Yeah,” Yamapi scratches the back of his head, and at least it’s reassuring that Yamapi feels so stupidly nervous as Kame is. “How have you been?”
“Busy, but that’s nothing new.” Kame laughs, and Yamapi smiles sheepishly and then he laughs too and that helps, helps a lot actually; Kame can feel the awkward, stupid tension between them dissolve into nothing, and when Yamapi smiles again it’s happy and relaxed, comfortable like it should had been from the beginning. Kame smiles too, and they toast to days off.
It’s easy, after that, to click like they always have, or at least like they have since they stopped fighting for Jin’s attention. Yamapi’s voice is nasal and familiar and it’s only as they talk that Kame realizes how much he has missed this; hanging out with Yamapi just to talk, feeling close to him. As night gets closer and the bar starts getting filled with customers, Kame shuffles his stool closer to Yamapi’s, until they’re so close that their thighs are pressing together and Kame can feel the heat of Yamapi’s body seeping through his jeans into his own skin. It gives him goosebumps, and makes something flutter in his stomach, but Kame doesn’t know what to make of it so he just decides he has had too much beer already, and then decides it feels good enough that he doesn’t care.
“So what made you call me?” Kame asks. “Just out of the blue.” Yamapi shifts, and the light, rough denim of his jeans scratches across the expensive, smooth, dark denim of Kame’s. Kame likes the contrast.
“I went to see a fortune teller, the other day,” Yamapi says. “We talked about you?” He takes a sip of his beer, and the froth sits on the top of his lip for a moment, until he licks it away. Kame’s surprised to find himself tracing the path of Yamapi’s tongue. “She told me she had magic.”
“Why me?” Kame looks down at his own drink, and doesn’t take a sip. He feels a bit woozy, and he thinks maybe he should stop drinking.
“It was silly,” Yamapi says, waving his hands in a gesture that makes Kame smile, because it’s so Akira-like. “She told me-” he pauses, and then scratches at his hair. “Don’t worry about it.”
Kame wants to ask, because he likes asking questions more than answering them, but suddenly he can’t really remember the question. “Okay,” he says, and Yamapi blinks at him.
“I thought you’d put up more of a fight than that,” Yamapi says, raising two fingers to call over the bartender.
“Did you want me to?” Kame teases, and Yamapi raises an eyebrow at Kame, expression indecipherable.
“No,” Yamapi says, almost faintly, eyes studying Kame’s, and then he changes the subject. Kame follows his lead, leaning just a bit closer.
They end up taking a taxi back home because the last train has long since departed, and Yamapi insists they drop Kame off first, which is stupid because Kame has all morning to sleep anyway, but no amount of arguing and reasoning will make Yamapi change his mind. The taxi driver looks at them like they’re a little bit crazy, and Kame tries not to imagine weird rumors floating around the internet the moment they get out of the taxi, though at least drinking with Yamapi’s never a bad rumor or something they don’t flaunt themselves on tv shows when given the chance.
The ride’s not short, but it feels like it is, maybe because of the alcohol, or maybe because Kame suddenly feels like he doesn’t really want to spend the night alone, not when Yamapi is so close. It’s a strange thought, and he doesn’t know where it comes from, but it’s strong and persistent and confusing, and Kame gets so lost in it that he startles when the taxi pulls over to the side two streets away from his apartment building, because idols know better than to give anyone their exact address. Yamapi won’t let him pay either, so Kame mumbles a ‘thank you’ and a ‘good night’ and turns to leave, and then there’s Yamapi’s hand on his, around his, warm and confident and strong as it squeezes Kame’s hand, just once, and so fast that by the time his drunk brain catches up, Kame’s already on the street, and Yamapi’s waving at him from behind the taxi window.
Kame blushes like an idiot in the middle of the empty street and tucks his warm, still tingling hand into his jeans pocket. Kame really doesn’t know what to think.
He gets a text from Yamapi.
It was good to see you, the message says, and Kame licks his lips absently, wondering how many emoticons to include in his response expressing complete agreement.
TUESDAY
There’s a knock on Kame’s door, loud and persistent, and Kame tumbles into a groggy awareness of morning as the knocking continues. He sits up in bed, the last remnants of his strange and heavy dreams fading away as the morning light seeps into his skin through the open blinds, and runs a hand through his undoubtedly messy hair. The knocking continues, and Kame figures he’d better get out of bed to investigate.
He slips into his house shoes and shuffles wearily to the front door of his apartment, banging into what feels like every piece of his furniture on the way there, and opens the door.
Yamapi is standing there, with a cap pulled over his head, sunglasses low on his nose. He looks pulled together in jeans that fit close to his thighs and...
Kame doesn’t notice those things though, because he’s not drunk enough to excuse them, and if there’s a bit of a quickening of his pulse, it’s not something he’s willing to acknowledge.
Still, it’s a strange thing pulling at him, and even though he’s more asleep than awake, it makes him open the door a little wider. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re off, right?” Yamapi asks, and Kame nods dumbly, running his tongue over his teeth and realizing with dismay that they really need a good brush because there’s still a film of last night’s beer and he can taste it. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Kame says, and he steps out of the way so Yamapi can walk inside. Yamapi looks around his apartment. “Did the fortune teller tell you to see me more than once?”
“No,” Yamapi says. “That was all my idea.” His smile is like the sun, and Kame wakes with it.
“Of course it’s clean,” he says, more to himself than Kame, but Kame finds himself flushing.
“Not really,” Kame says, and Yamapi looks at him and offers a slow, warm smile that shows off dimples that maybe Yamapi didn’t have as pronounced when he was a plump-cheeked adolescent playing Akira. “It’s a little-”
“Really clean,” Yamapi says, and Kame catches a whiff of his cologne and for some reason, he wants to step closer.
He feels more awake now, and all of his manners come rushing back to him. “Can I get you something to drink? Eat?”
“You want to go get breakfast?” Yamapi asks, twirling his car keys around his finger and blinking at Kame. “I’m really hungry.”
An answer bubbles out of Kame before he even stops to think about it. “I could make breakfast.”
“I would love that,” Yamapi says. “But i wouldn’t want to make work for you.”
“It’s no trouble,” Kame says eagerly, too eagerly, and so he scratches his stomach and Yamapi just laughs.
“Okay, okay,” he says. “What’s for breakfast?”
Kame cooks rice, and an easy stir-fry, and though his stomach is too unsettled to eat much himself, Yamapi devours it, and Kame just watches him eat with that tiny fluttering feeling taking up permanent residence in the pit of his gut.
“Are you busy today?” Yamapi asks, and Kame almost nods no before he remembers he made lunch plans with Koki.
“I am,” Kame says slowly, but his tongue feels heavy as Yamapi pins him with a look. “I told Koki I would meet him.”
As he speaks, it feels like there’s a vice closing around his throat. He swallows to clear it.
“Oh,” Yamapi says, and Kame pokes at his leftover rice with his chopsticks. “Well, that’s alright then.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” Kame says, before he even thinks about it. He should ask Koki but- “Koki won’t mind.”
“If you really think he won’t,” Yamapi says, looking happier, and the tight feeling around Kame’s neck loosens, like taking off a necktie after doing a broadcast, and Kame sighs with relief and also glows under Yamapi’s pleased eyes.
“He definitely won’t,” Kame says faintly. He retires to his bedroom to change while Yamapi takes another serving of rice. He texts Koki while he’s brushing his teeth, letting him know Yamapi is coming, and Koki sends back about thirty question marks in response, which Kame takes as a sign of acceptance.
He walks back into the kitchen, and smiles softly when he sees Yamapi standing at his sink with his sleeves rolled up, doing the dishes. “You don’t have to do those,” Kame says, and Yamapi looks at him over his shoulder with that warm smile that makes Kame’s knees feel like jelly. Kame doesn’t know what’s wrong with himself, but he can’t think about it now; not with Pi standing there in Kame’s Rilakkuma apron, little bits of hair curling on his neck where they stick out of his cap.
“You made breakfast,” Yamapi says. “I should do the dishes.”
“Okay,” Kame says, because there’s no reason to disagree, not when Yamapi makes so much sense.
Koki meets them at a fancy Italian restaurant a few hours later, after Yamapi insists on driving himself and Kame around for a while while he talks about America and his trip out to Okinawa to visit Jin, and Kame listens and listens, just enjoying the sound of Yamapi’s voice.
Kame feels almost like he’s outside of himself, watching himself lean toward Yamapi, head tilting to the side the same way he does to seduce hosts on talk shows. He doesn’t understand why it’s happening, all of a sudden, but it’s like he’s powerless to stop it.
Maybe he’s finally falling for that famous Yamapi charm.
Koki looks at Kame like he’s lost his mind when he shows up, Yamapi in tow. “Long time no see,” Yamapi says, and Koki nods, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. “I’m sorry to butt in on lunch; I talked Kame-chan into it.”
“Did you?” Koki asks dryly, and Kame glares at him, which increases the height of Koki’s eyebrow.
“But Koki doesn’t mind, does he?”Kame puts just a bit of ice in his voice, like he used to in rehearsal right after Jin came back and no one seemed to be able to get along. Koki’s shoulders straighten on impulse, and now the look he’s giving Kame is incredulous, but he turns to Yamapi with a smile.
“Not at all,” he says smoothly, and then a host is seating them.
“Gonna get your usual?” Koki asks, and Kame wrinkles his nose at the menu. The idea of lobster just isn’t sitting well with him today, and he wonders if he drank more last night than he’d thought.
“I think I’ll get the pasta fresca,” Kame says, and Yamapi hums in approval.
“Pasta fresca is my favorite,” Yamapi says. “I think I’ll get that, too.”
Kame looks up from the menu to see Koki staring at him like he has another head, but then the waiter is there, and they’re placing their orders. Yamapi’s phone rings, and he steps outside to answer it, and Koki is still staring.
“What?” he asks, and Koki presses his lips into a straight line. Kame feels a strange tingling in his fingertips, and he starts tapping them on the table, like he always does when he’s anxious. It’s weird that he hadn’t been doing it before, Kame thinks, since ordering food at restaurants always puts him on edge because he just knows they’re going to get his order wrong.
“Finally you’re doing something normal,” Koki says. “I have been pretty sure you’re an alien for the past thirty minutes.”
“What are you talking about?” Kame says, relaxing into his normal posture. “I’m acting the same as always.”
Koki quietly stirs his drink with his straw. “Kame, you ordered pasta fresca.”
“So? I’m not allowed to get something different?”
“Kame-chan, you don’t like tomatoes.”
Kame feels confused. That’s true. He doesn’t like tomatoes. But it had sounded so good when he was looking at it on the menu that he hadn’t been able to think about ordering anything else. “I... I don’t know.”
“Okay,” Koki says, and then Yamapi is back, sliding into his seat next to Kame with an easygoing grin, pulling his sunglasses back off. Kame finds himself leaning toward him again, like a moth to a flame, and Koki stabs his tortellini with what Kame thinks is a bit excessive force.
They head outside after Kame takes the check, and Koki grabs Kame’s wrist when Yamapi goes to get his car. “Kame-chan, I don’t know what’s up with you, but-”
“Nothing’s up with me,” Kame says, and he can taste tomato bitter on his tongue. “Everything’s fine.” Kame thinks that’s true. His head feels clear as he stands here with Koki. Nothing amiss.
“Kame-”
And Yamapi is pulling up, and Kame pulls his wrist free, and gives Koki a big grin. “See you later, Koki,” he says, and Koki just nods as Kame climbs into the car.
“Want to go get ice cream?” Yamapi asks, and Kame should say no, because he’s got to look thin and have clear skin at Cannes next week, but Yamapi looks hopeful so he says yes. “I’m so glad we’re getting to spend so much time together,” Yamapi says, and pleasure curls up in Kame’s belly like a snake.
“Me too,” he says, and his toes feel numb.
WEDNESDAY
It takes Kame a few moments to realize that it’s the ringing of the phone that has woken him up. He fumbles for the light switch and groans when it blinds him. Kame rubs his eyes and blinks as his brain slowly catches up with the situation. His phone has stopped ringing by the time Kame pulls himself up to grab it. He has four missed calls from Yamapi, and he’s about to call Yamapi back when his phone starts ringing again.
“Is everything alright?” Kame’s voice is thick with sleep, but Yamapi sounds cheerful and awake even though Kame's watch says it's almost 2am. "Why are you calling?"
"I wanted to talk to you," Yamapi answers and then seems to suddenly consider the hour and the possibility that Kame might have been sleeping. "I woke you up, didn't I? I'm sorry! I’ll just call you again in the morning and..."
"No!" the word leaves Kame's mouth almost on impulse. It feels almost like Yamapi’s anxiousness is pulling the word out of him, tugging with an invisible string. He bites his lower lip and blushes and clears his throat. "No, I mean... I'm already awake anyway, right? We can talk if you want to. I can... I can go to your place, if you want?" It’s fine, Kame rationalizes to himself, because it’s just meetings tomorrow, and Kame’s survived meetings on less sleep than this.
"Are you sure?" Yamapi sounds worried, but also like he really wants Kame to come, and the hopeful note in his voice makes Kame forget about the hour and his plans of resting and catching up on sleep.
"It's not a problem at all. It's still the same address, right? I'll get dressed and I'll be there as soon as I can."
Kame jumps off the bed as soon as the call is over. He has his clothes from the previous day piled at the foot of his bed, because he was supposed to put them into the laundry basket, but he wears them again because he doesn't feel like looking for new ones.
It's lucky that there are practically no cars out at this hour of the night, because Yamapi's house is a good distance away and Kame's already impatient enough as it is. He's usually a careful driver, but he skips a couple of red lights. He wants to arrive at Yamapi's as soon as possible, and he doesn't even know why, because they are only going to talk.
It takes almost ten minutes to find a spot to park the car, but when he finally rings Yamapi's doorbell, Yamapi's there with worn, old sweatpants and a wife-beater and a warm smile, and Kame feels something wake and flutter in his chest and spread all over his body until even his fingertips are tingling.
They share a beer on Yamapi's hideous couch, and talk about anything that crosses their minds, and Kame should be annoyed that Yamashita woke him up in the middle of the night for this, but he can't bring himself to be, because somehow he realizes he really wanted to talk with Yamapi too.
The beer cans pile easily on Yamapi's coffee table. It's a brand Kame doesn't usually like, but today he doesn't care much. It tastes better than usual, somehow; like something Kame likes. He's starting to feel tipsy though, and he's also starting to unconsciously lean towards Yamapi. He realizes the distance between them has disappeared when their shoulders touch, but even then he can't bring himself to care, because Yamapi's body is warm and solid against his, welcoming and comforting, and if anything Kame wants to touch more him. Yamapi wraps an arm around Kame's shoulders and pulls him a bit closer.
"I really wanted to see you. I'm glad you came."
"Yeah," Kame says, and he licks his lips nervously because Yamapi's eyes are dark and burning and fixed on his. "Yeah, me too."
Yamapi smiles and his hand squeezes Kame's shoulders, but Kame barely realizes it because he's mesmerized by Yamapi's eyes and Yamapi's lips that glisten plump and tempting. Kame doesn't remember ever feeling attracted to Yamapi, but suddenly he wants nothing but to kiss him.
Maybe he says that aloud, because the next moment Yamapi's leaning towards him, invading Kame's personal space with warmth that bleeds through Kame's clothes into his own skin and a smell of shampoo and cigarettes. When Yamapi kisses Kame he's sweet and gentle and demanding at the same time. He tastes like those cigarettes that make Kame wrinkle his nose, like the beer Kame hates, and like something that's simply Yamapi, Tomohisa, pure and undiluted.
He tastes like something Kame suddenly can't get enough of, even though before, he’d never wanted it at all.
THURSDAY
Kame leaves Yamapi’s apartment at six in the morning so he can be home by seven to change, and he tumbles through his own front door at fifteen after the hour with only forty-five minutes left to get the work.
He strips down to his underwear and stands in the mirror. His hair is a mess, and his lips are swollen, and there are marks on his neck he won’t have trouble hiding but would require a lot of explanation if someone were to see.
He splashes cool water on his face, and then rubs BB cream under his eyes, smoothing his skin.
“What are you doing?” Kame asks his reflection, and Kame isn’t usually this careless. Kame usually would never cut it this close for work, because Kame hates being unprofessional more than anything.
Maybe, Kame thinks to himself, as he runs a brush through his hair before tying it back neatly, he just likes Yamapi more than he hates being late. Kame hadn’t thought you could fall into like with someone this fast, but Kame doesn’t doubt the way Yamapi’s lips had coaxed gasps from his lips and electricity through his veins as they had kissed on his sofa last night.
Kame’s flushed just thinking about it.
He puts on a suit, tightening his necktie extra carefully, so there’s no sign of his bruises when he folds the white collar of his dress-shirt down.
He’s still exactly on time for his meetings. But as the day wears on, he can’t seem to concentrate, his thoughts constantly wandering back to Yamapi’s hands pulling his jaw up to gain easier access to his mouth, or...
He finds himself having to have questions repeated, and his manager asks him several times if he’s okay, which Kame waves off with an unconcerned hand and muttered reassurances.
When he’s finally free, he pulls his phone from his pocket, and there’s just a text from Yamapi, that says come over, and it’s just what Kame has wanted to see all day.
He feels a bit crazy, the way he’s moving to Yamapi’s whims like a leaf in the wind, but he can’t help himself, and Kame’s never this silly, so maybe he’s owed this by the universe from all those times he’s told himself no.
Yamapi opens the door before Kame rings the bell, this time, dragging Kame inside by his Galliano neck-tie and immediately claiming his mouth. His hand pulls the tie from Kame’s hair, letting it tumble down into a mess on Kame’s shoulders, and then he’s weaving his fingers into it for leverage, tilting Kame’s head to the side so he can slip his tongue between Kame’s lips. Kame gasps at the first slide of Yamapi’s hot, wet mouth against his own, but then he’s reciprocating, twining their tongues together and enjoying the slow retreat of the urgency that had been hounding him all day.
“So distracting,” Kame gasps between kisses, and Yamapi pulls away to look at him.
“Me?” A smile tugs at the corners of Yamapi’s lips, and his bangs fall into his eyes, soft and feathered. Kame reaches up and pushes them out of his eyes.
“Yes, you,” Kame says, and Yamapi’s fingers tighten in his hair. “I couldn’t think of anything else all day.”
“Do you believe in magic?” Yamapi asks, and Kame snorts, slipping out of his shoes and pushing Yamapi back deeper into the flat, into the living room where their beer cans from last night still litter the table and floor.
“No,” Kame says. “Why?”
“No reason,” Yamapi says, and he presses a kiss to Kame’s forehead, gentle and sweet. “It’s just that this is a little like magic.”
“Why?” Kame whispers, as Yamapi’s hands carefully push Kame’s suit jacket down his shoulders. His fingers drag fire down Kame’s arms, even through his suit jacket, and Kame doesn’t say anything when the jacket hits the floor, despite the fact that it’s dry clean only. Maybe that’s the real magic-- that Yamapi makes Kame forget about all the things that mean so much to him with just a slight change in his tone.
“I wanted you to be thinking about me,” Yamapi says, and Kame shudders at the huskiness of his voice. “And you were.”
“That’s not magic,” Kame replies. “That’s attraction.”
“Mmm,” Yamapi says. “Just kiss me.” Kame trembles with all the feelings swirling around inside him; things he’s never felt before and never really imagined feeling, either. It’s overwhelming, but exciting, and Kame lets himself get lost in the sea, Yamapi’s kisses and soft touches crashing into him like waves.
Kame does.
FRIDAY
One of the many advantages of working for Going! and Dramatic Game is that Kame often gets free tickets for baseball matches; good seats with VIP passes to meet the players, and often more than one. He rarely misses a game when he's free to go, and he's never short on people wanting to accompany him, and to be honest he's not even sure Yamapi likes baseball enough to accept the offer. But Yamapi does, and he seems so happy that Kame offered that Kame kind of wishes he could go with Yamapi alone. Alas, he has already invited more friends, and he can't cancel on them.
They are all excited about the game because it's two of Japan's top teams playing, and Kame should be too, but he's more excited about going to a baseball game with Yamapi than he is about the game itself. He answers his friends' excited comments with hums and short replies, as he's much more interested in Yamapi's anecdote about filming than on the match right now. It's weird because Kame loves baseball and normally he'd be the most riled up out of all his friends, but then Yamapi laughs, and the thought flees from Kame's mind because Yamapi's laugh is so beautiful and distracting.
He tries to explain to Yamapi what’s happening, and why it’s important or exciting, once the match starts. They are surrounded by Kame's other friends' enthusiasm, and the loud cheering of the crowd, and Yamapi seems interested in the game for the first few innings. As it advances, however, he starts to lose interest and get distracted. He asks Kame about what players he knows, and what it’s like hanging out with them, rather than about the game; about work plans and what does he expect from Cannes, and Kame starts to lose interest in the game, too. It's not that it's a boring game, one that Kame wouldn't enjoy normally, but somehow Yamapi claims all his attention and Kame's willing to give it. The players on the field can't compete with Yamapi's eyes and Yamapi's smile and Yamapi's voice, and by the time the game is over Kame doesn't even know who's won, and he couldn't care less.
Normally Kame would go down to the dugout or to the locker rooms to meet the players and congratulate them or console them, or generally make friends with guys he doesn’t know well yet. He doesn't feel like it today though, and he makes up a excuse about work and meetings when his friends ask him about it. They stare at him like he has committed some kind of unspeakable treason, but Kame just waves goodbye to them and grabs Yamapi's wrist to pull him away towards the car.
"Do you have a meeting now?" Yamapi frowns as soon as Kame starts the car.
"No, I just didn't feel like going today." Kame smiles without taking his eyes off the rear-view mirror, careful not to run over one of the multitudes of fans pouring from the stadium as he pulls out of the parking lot.
"Oh,” Yamapi says, licking his lips and leaning back in his seat. “You wanna go get drinks, then?” The grey stripe of his seatbelt across the white of his t-shirt draws Kame’s attention to his chest, and the muscles shift beneath the fabric, and Kame doesn’t want to go for drinks.
They leave the car in Kame's parking garage, and end up drinking at Kame's place instead of out, until they get tired of drinking and kiss instead. It's almost four in the morning when Yamapi leaves, and he only goes home because he has work early in the morning. Kame looks at the beer cans that litter his table and his crumpled clothes all over the floor and decides even showering can wait.
When Kame gets out of bed at ten there's an unread email on his phone from one of the players he's friends with.
Why didn't Kazu-kun come to see me to the locker room yesterday? Kazu-kun's cheering is always the best! I missed Kazu-kun :( :( :(
Kame frowns and chews on the inside of his cheek as he considers what to answer, because he had even forgotten it was his friend's team playing yesterday. He doesn't know what to say because he loves baseball and it's so unlike him to lose interest in it just like that, almost without realizing it. It's upsetting, and Kame wonders if maybe Koki was right and there's something really wrong with him that he has been too blind to see...
His phone vibrates again, with an incoming email from Yamapi, who whines at Kame about he's sleepy and the meeting is endless and boring and his manager is mean, and Kame can't help but laugh at the million frowning emoticons following the message. He starts to type up a reply immediately, all previous woes forgotten.
It's not like he's acting all that differently anyway, it's just the novelty of falling in like.
SATURDAY
Kame means to say no, because he’s got a flight early the next morning and hundreds of reasons he should go back to his own apartment. Before trips, Kame likes to pack and repack his suitcase four times, just to make sure he’d pack it the same way if given another chance, and he wants to double-check that his shirts won’t get wrinkles in transit.
“You’re already packed, right?” Yamapi squints at him over the tops of his sunglasses, and Kame’s heart dives into his stomach and then rises again, like it has wings. “So come over.”
“Yes,” Kame says. “If you’d like.”
“I would very much like,” Yamapi whispers, and Kame goes.
There’s something more to tonight’s kisses-- something hot and heady that promises something else, and then there’s sweat and bold touches and an ache that builds and grows as they rock together, naked skin pressed against naked skin, and Yamapi’s groans are as loud as Kame’s own, so Kame doesn’t bother to police his own.
When they come together, Yamapi sinking inside of Kame and Kame feeling every inch, it’s more than Kame’s prepared more, and nothing he’s ever thought he wanted.
Later, tangled around each other in Yamapi’s striped cotton sheets, Kame tries to pull himself together and make sense of the past week.
“It’s like I can’t... It’s like I’m not in control of myself,” Kame says, letting his fingers walk up Yamapi’s stomach, and Yamapi giggles and grabs Kame’s hand, like it tickles.
“Is that really so bad?” Yamapi asks, and the question is flippant, but there’s a darkness in his voice that Kame finds as chilling as he does mesmerizing. Kame can still taste Yamapi in his mouth, and when he looks up and catches Yamapi’s eyes, he feels a pull in his stomach that he can’t deny.
He leans up and kisses Yamapi again, slow and easy, a lingering press of lips and tongues, Yamapi’s touch dragging Kame down into him until Kame can feel every shred of resistance in him melt away like nothing in the heat of it, until Kame is Yamapi and Yamapi is Kame, and there’s only the fire of skin on skin.
“No, it isn’t,” Kame says, and Yamapi sighs, running a hand through Kame’s hair and down his neck, fingers finding the ripples on his spine, skating along the bumps and making Kame shiver.
He feels controlled down to his fingertips.
“Do you believe in magic?” Yamapi asks again, and this time, Kame says ‘yes’.
Kame remembers, vaguely, wanting more than to make Yamapi smile, but not how that felt. It’s scary, but Kame can’t think about, because every time he tries the thought is gone, like water through fingers.
AND SUNDAY, AGAIN
Kame’s manager picks Kame up in his own apartment to take him to the airport, and Kame sits lifelessly in the backseat of the car. He listens to his manager making lists of everything Kame shouldn’t forget while in Cannes, like Kame isn’t a perfect professional who knows all of those things better than everyone else does already. His suitcase is full of prep documents from Director Miike and the press management team; emails he’s printed out that detail how he’s expected to act, what he’s supposed to say and which questions he’s allowed to answer; of useful sentences in English and French, and pronunciation tips for both. It’s enough reading material to last him the whole flight.
Check in is fast: one of the advantages of being a celebrity, and Kame has a cup of coffee in a deserted VIP lounge with a few blessed moments of silence from his manager’s continuous and exhaustive fretting. He’s travelling in his comfortable clothes; jeans and a t-shirt and a black vest, dark shades and a fedora to hide his face. He likes to travel light like this, because it makes him feel young and free even if he’s going on a business trip. Kame flips over his phone to answer to Yamapi’s e-mail and doesn’t even bother to hide the smile taking over his lips.
“Kamenashi-san?” Kame looks up when his manager steps into the VIP lounge, Kame’s travel bag and his own smartphone in hand. “I have to leave for the agency a little earlier than expected. I trust you’ll be alright by your own until boarding time.”
“Yes.” Kame smiles and stands up, bows politely and takes his bag from the man.. “Thank you for everything.”
The man returns the bow and holds out his hand for a firm shake. “Good luck in Cannes.”
Kame bows again as the man leaves, and plops back down on his seat again when he’s out of sight. He entertains himself with his phone for a while, until the door to the lounge opens again. There are steps and the heavy noise of a full sports bag hitting the floor before someone sits down next to him, but Kame doesn’t even look up. Yamapi’s cologne is strong and distracting when the man leans in, and Yamapi’s lips are soft on Kame’s cheek; it makes Kame smile.
“I’m really happy you asked me to come with you,” Yamapi whispers into his ear. “I don’t want to let you go anywhere without me.”
“I never will, again,” Kame says, and Kame tilts his head just the way Yamapi likes, exposing his neck, and looks at him from the corner of his eye, which is also something Yamapi likes, even if he’s never said anything. Kame just knows, and all he wants to do is make Yamapi happy. “I’m yours.” The words sink down to his bones, and feel truer than anything else.
“Good,” Yamapi says. “You always say the right thing.”
Kame lets his lashes flutter closed, and a quick thought surfaces, asking Kame if he’ll ever be able to say the wrong thing again, but Yamapi presses his lips lightly to Kame’s ear, and the thought is gone.
Kame turns to Yamapi with a smile. “Of course I do.” He lowers his shades, and smiles, feeling aimlessly content.
Pairing: Kame/ Yamapi
Rating: R
Summary: Kame changes, when Yamapi wants him to.
Warnings: dark?, dubious consent
Notes: collab with
elanielyn for DOA 1012Yamapi calls as Kame looks between his overfull suitcase and the six pairs of shoes he has set out in front of the closet. Kame knows he’s overpacking, but he’s never quite been able to stop himself from including too many extra sets of clothing, just in case.
“Hello?” Kame says curiously into the phone, pressing it to his cheek with his shoulder as he squats down and reaches into the suitcase, pulling out a cotton shirt and carefully considering if he actually needs it. It’s the only shirt he packed that doesn’t need to be ironed, so he’s probably better off taking it along. “Yamapi?”
“I wasn’t even sure if this was still your number,” Yamapi says, with a slight laugh, and Kame’s eyebrows unfurrow at the relaxed nasal sound of the other man’s voice. It doesn’t sound like an emergency, or anything like that.
“I heard you were leaving for Cannes next week. For ’Ore Ore’.” Kame can hear Yamapi clearing his throat, and he sets the shirt back down in the suitcase, leaning back on his heels in the way Koki calls his ‘old man stance’.
“Yes,” Kame says. “I am.”
“So you must be really busy this week,” Yamapi says, and he sounds sort of disappointed, and Kame lifts his left hand up to his eye-level so he can inspect the nails on it. “Getting ready for your trip.”
“I have the week mostly off, actually,” Kame says. “Unexpectedly. I’m going to sleep until noon every day.”
“Reset your time zone?”
“Get some rest!” Kame says, and he laughs, because he knows Yamapi has his times too, where he’s stretched too thin, and he’ll be able to understand the mix of emotions Kame’s including in that laugh.
“Yeah,” Yamapi says. “That will be good for you.” He coughs, and it’s not a real cough; it’s the sound Yamapi makes when he wants attention. It’s not really a subtle sound, and Kame blinks when he hears it because it really has been a long time since he’s talked to Yamapi. They’ve just both been so busy.
“Is there something... Why did you call?” Kame asks, licking his lips and setting aside one pair of boots, deciding they can stay at home. So can one of the pairs of dress shoes; Kame will just take everything in black and grey and navy, so he won’t need brown.
“I was just...” Yamapi trails off, and Kame presses his lips together, because now there’s a strain of hesitance in his voice.
“Is everything all right? Do you need something?”
“No, no,” Yamapi says, and he sounds sure of that, but then he’s making a humming noise in the back of his throat, and Kame knows he’s not finished talking. Back when they were filming Nobuta, Yamapi’s humming noise always meant he had a question about the script, or wanted to change something to make Akira even more weird than he was in the first place. “I just wanted...”
“Wanted...” Kame says, pulling out his brown trousers and standing up with a wince as his knees crack. He pulls a hanger out of the closet and carefully hangs up his pants, pressing the creases out with practiced thumbs and sliding the trousers back into the closet.
He can hear Yamapi opening the fridge, and pull out something. “To hang out.”
“What?”
“I haven’t seen you in a while, and I saw on the news that you were going away, and I thought ‘I want to see Shuuji’.” Yamapi closes the refrigerator, loud enough that it sounds like a slam even over the phone. “So I called.”
Kame closes his eyes in thought. He really is free, and even though he’d been planning to rest, his stomach does a little flop that Yamapi actively wants to see him. There’s a little part of Kame that still remembers when Yamapi hated him, and hated sharing Jin with him, and even though that hatchet is long buried, Kame’s always had a little lingering thread of doubt. He hears Yamapi click his teeth anxiously on the other end of the line, and wonders if Yamapi’s got one too.
“You’ve got time off?” Kame asks.
“Just a little,” Yamapi says. “Well, I heard you might, so I made it so we matched.” Yamapi groans. “That sounded weird, didn’t it? I didn’t mean for it to be weird. I just wanted to see you.”
And there’s a little warmth now, spreading in his chest. “Well, then, I’d better have time for you, right?” Kame looks down at his suitcase. Much better. The shoes will fit just fine now, and there’s space left at the top for his toiletries and hair products, since he’s no longer allowed to take that sort of stuff as a carry-on.
“Right,” Yamapi says, suddenly much more sure. “You want to come out with me tomorrow?”
“I’d love to,” Kame says honestly, and there’s a tightening in his gut that tells him that, for some reason, he really, really wants to.
“Great!” Yamapi says. “I’ll call you in the morning to settle a time and place.”
“All right,” Kame says, and when Yamapi hangs up, and Kame hits the lock button on his phone and slips it back into his pocket, he sort of misses the sound of Yamapi’s voice.
It’s been a long time since Kame’s had enough time to meet up with his friends without worrying about having to rush somewhere else, and jobs, and lack of sleep, and since Yamapi’s schedule is not any better than his, they haven’t been able to meet for a while. Kame’s happy he gets to meet Yamapi before going to Cannes, because he knows he’s not going to have time to after he comes back, and he has kind of missed hanging out with Yamapi, even if it’s just to have a beer at one of the secluded bars Yamapi likes.
And maybe it’s because they haven’t met in so long that Kame’s actually nervous about it, which is ridiculous because this is not a date and he doesn’t even like Yamapi in that way, and if he changes his shirt three times it’s only because he has all the good ones in his suitcase, and not because he’s worried about what Yamapi will think. He’s also not anxious about Yamapi arriving five minutes late, because Kame has all the time in the world, and maybe he should order a beer so he can have something to help him stop thinking, so Kame does just that and it helps.
Yamapi looks good, when he arrives. Maybe it’s just that Kame hasn’t seen Yamapi in ages, but he looks better than the last time they met. His hair is shorter, darker, and Kame finds himself staring at Yamapi a little too long and a little too intently to show mere recognition. Kame looks away when Yamapi coughs uncomfortably, and points to the stool next to him. Yamapi orders a beer and something to eat and they smile at each other with matching smiles and blushed cheeks.
“It’s been a while,” Kame says, because as stupid as it is, after all the years they’ve known each other for, Kame suddenly can’t find something to say.
“Yeah,” Yamapi scratches the back of his head, and at least it’s reassuring that Yamapi feels so stupidly nervous as Kame is. “How have you been?”
“Busy, but that’s nothing new.” Kame laughs, and Yamapi smiles sheepishly and then he laughs too and that helps, helps a lot actually; Kame can feel the awkward, stupid tension between them dissolve into nothing, and when Yamapi smiles again it’s happy and relaxed, comfortable like it should had been from the beginning. Kame smiles too, and they toast to days off.
It’s easy, after that, to click like they always have, or at least like they have since they stopped fighting for Jin’s attention. Yamapi’s voice is nasal and familiar and it’s only as they talk that Kame realizes how much he has missed this; hanging out with Yamapi just to talk, feeling close to him. As night gets closer and the bar starts getting filled with customers, Kame shuffles his stool closer to Yamapi’s, until they’re so close that their thighs are pressing together and Kame can feel the heat of Yamapi’s body seeping through his jeans into his own skin. It gives him goosebumps, and makes something flutter in his stomach, but Kame doesn’t know what to make of it so he just decides he has had too much beer already, and then decides it feels good enough that he doesn’t care.
“So what made you call me?” Kame asks. “Just out of the blue.” Yamapi shifts, and the light, rough denim of his jeans scratches across the expensive, smooth, dark denim of Kame’s. Kame likes the contrast.
“I went to see a fortune teller, the other day,” Yamapi says. “We talked about you?” He takes a sip of his beer, and the froth sits on the top of his lip for a moment, until he licks it away. Kame’s surprised to find himself tracing the path of Yamapi’s tongue. “She told me she had magic.”
“Why me?” Kame looks down at his own drink, and doesn’t take a sip. He feels a bit woozy, and he thinks maybe he should stop drinking.
“It was silly,” Yamapi says, waving his hands in a gesture that makes Kame smile, because it’s so Akira-like. “She told me-” he pauses, and then scratches at his hair. “Don’t worry about it.”
Kame wants to ask, because he likes asking questions more than answering them, but suddenly he can’t really remember the question. “Okay,” he says, and Yamapi blinks at him.
“I thought you’d put up more of a fight than that,” Yamapi says, raising two fingers to call over the bartender.
“Did you want me to?” Kame teases, and Yamapi raises an eyebrow at Kame, expression indecipherable.
“No,” Yamapi says, almost faintly, eyes studying Kame’s, and then he changes the subject. Kame follows his lead, leaning just a bit closer.
They end up taking a taxi back home because the last train has long since departed, and Yamapi insists they drop Kame off first, which is stupid because Kame has all morning to sleep anyway, but no amount of arguing and reasoning will make Yamapi change his mind. The taxi driver looks at them like they’re a little bit crazy, and Kame tries not to imagine weird rumors floating around the internet the moment they get out of the taxi, though at least drinking with Yamapi’s never a bad rumor or something they don’t flaunt themselves on tv shows when given the chance.
The ride’s not short, but it feels like it is, maybe because of the alcohol, or maybe because Kame suddenly feels like he doesn’t really want to spend the night alone, not when Yamapi is so close. It’s a strange thought, and he doesn’t know where it comes from, but it’s strong and persistent and confusing, and Kame gets so lost in it that he startles when the taxi pulls over to the side two streets away from his apartment building, because idols know better than to give anyone their exact address. Yamapi won’t let him pay either, so Kame mumbles a ‘thank you’ and a ‘good night’ and turns to leave, and then there’s Yamapi’s hand on his, around his, warm and confident and strong as it squeezes Kame’s hand, just once, and so fast that by the time his drunk brain catches up, Kame’s already on the street, and Yamapi’s waving at him from behind the taxi window.
Kame blushes like an idiot in the middle of the empty street and tucks his warm, still tingling hand into his jeans pocket. Kame really doesn’t know what to think.
He gets a text from Yamapi.
It was good to see you, the message says, and Kame licks his lips absently, wondering how many emoticons to include in his response expressing complete agreement.
There’s a knock on Kame’s door, loud and persistent, and Kame tumbles into a groggy awareness of morning as the knocking continues. He sits up in bed, the last remnants of his strange and heavy dreams fading away as the morning light seeps into his skin through the open blinds, and runs a hand through his undoubtedly messy hair. The knocking continues, and Kame figures he’d better get out of bed to investigate.
He slips into his house shoes and shuffles wearily to the front door of his apartment, banging into what feels like every piece of his furniture on the way there, and opens the door.
Yamapi is standing there, with a cap pulled over his head, sunglasses low on his nose. He looks pulled together in jeans that fit close to his thighs and...
Kame doesn’t notice those things though, because he’s not drunk enough to excuse them, and if there’s a bit of a quickening of his pulse, it’s not something he’s willing to acknowledge.
Still, it’s a strange thing pulling at him, and even though he’s more asleep than awake, it makes him open the door a little wider. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re off, right?” Yamapi asks, and Kame nods dumbly, running his tongue over his teeth and realizing with dismay that they really need a good brush because there’s still a film of last night’s beer and he can taste it. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Kame says, and he steps out of the way so Yamapi can walk inside. Yamapi looks around his apartment. “Did the fortune teller tell you to see me more than once?”
“No,” Yamapi says. “That was all my idea.” His smile is like the sun, and Kame wakes with it.
“Of course it’s clean,” he says, more to himself than Kame, but Kame finds himself flushing.
“Not really,” Kame says, and Yamapi looks at him and offers a slow, warm smile that shows off dimples that maybe Yamapi didn’t have as pronounced when he was a plump-cheeked adolescent playing Akira. “It’s a little-”
“Really clean,” Yamapi says, and Kame catches a whiff of his cologne and for some reason, he wants to step closer.
He feels more awake now, and all of his manners come rushing back to him. “Can I get you something to drink? Eat?”
“You want to go get breakfast?” Yamapi asks, twirling his car keys around his finger and blinking at Kame. “I’m really hungry.”
An answer bubbles out of Kame before he even stops to think about it. “I could make breakfast.”
“I would love that,” Yamapi says. “But i wouldn’t want to make work for you.”
“It’s no trouble,” Kame says eagerly, too eagerly, and so he scratches his stomach and Yamapi just laughs.
“Okay, okay,” he says. “What’s for breakfast?”
Kame cooks rice, and an easy stir-fry, and though his stomach is too unsettled to eat much himself, Yamapi devours it, and Kame just watches him eat with that tiny fluttering feeling taking up permanent residence in the pit of his gut.
“Are you busy today?” Yamapi asks, and Kame almost nods no before he remembers he made lunch plans with Koki.
“I am,” Kame says slowly, but his tongue feels heavy as Yamapi pins him with a look. “I told Koki I would meet him.”
As he speaks, it feels like there’s a vice closing around his throat. He swallows to clear it.
“Oh,” Yamapi says, and Kame pokes at his leftover rice with his chopsticks. “Well, that’s alright then.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” Kame says, before he even thinks about it. He should ask Koki but- “Koki won’t mind.”
“If you really think he won’t,” Yamapi says, looking happier, and the tight feeling around Kame’s neck loosens, like taking off a necktie after doing a broadcast, and Kame sighs with relief and also glows under Yamapi’s pleased eyes.
“He definitely won’t,” Kame says faintly. He retires to his bedroom to change while Yamapi takes another serving of rice. He texts Koki while he’s brushing his teeth, letting him know Yamapi is coming, and Koki sends back about thirty question marks in response, which Kame takes as a sign of acceptance.
He walks back into the kitchen, and smiles softly when he sees Yamapi standing at his sink with his sleeves rolled up, doing the dishes. “You don’t have to do those,” Kame says, and Yamapi looks at him over his shoulder with that warm smile that makes Kame’s knees feel like jelly. Kame doesn’t know what’s wrong with himself, but he can’t think about it now; not with Pi standing there in Kame’s Rilakkuma apron, little bits of hair curling on his neck where they stick out of his cap.
“You made breakfast,” Yamapi says. “I should do the dishes.”
“Okay,” Kame says, because there’s no reason to disagree, not when Yamapi makes so much sense.
Koki meets them at a fancy Italian restaurant a few hours later, after Yamapi insists on driving himself and Kame around for a while while he talks about America and his trip out to Okinawa to visit Jin, and Kame listens and listens, just enjoying the sound of Yamapi’s voice.
Kame feels almost like he’s outside of himself, watching himself lean toward Yamapi, head tilting to the side the same way he does to seduce hosts on talk shows. He doesn’t understand why it’s happening, all of a sudden, but it’s like he’s powerless to stop it.
Maybe he’s finally falling for that famous Yamapi charm.
Koki looks at Kame like he’s lost his mind when he shows up, Yamapi in tow. “Long time no see,” Yamapi says, and Koki nods, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. “I’m sorry to butt in on lunch; I talked Kame-chan into it.”
“Did you?” Koki asks dryly, and Kame glares at him, which increases the height of Koki’s eyebrow.
“But Koki doesn’t mind, does he?”Kame puts just a bit of ice in his voice, like he used to in rehearsal right after Jin came back and no one seemed to be able to get along. Koki’s shoulders straighten on impulse, and now the look he’s giving Kame is incredulous, but he turns to Yamapi with a smile.
“Not at all,” he says smoothly, and then a host is seating them.
“Gonna get your usual?” Koki asks, and Kame wrinkles his nose at the menu. The idea of lobster just isn’t sitting well with him today, and he wonders if he drank more last night than he’d thought.
“I think I’ll get the pasta fresca,” Kame says, and Yamapi hums in approval.
“Pasta fresca is my favorite,” Yamapi says. “I think I’ll get that, too.”
Kame looks up from the menu to see Koki staring at him like he has another head, but then the waiter is there, and they’re placing their orders. Yamapi’s phone rings, and he steps outside to answer it, and Koki is still staring.
“What?” he asks, and Koki presses his lips into a straight line. Kame feels a strange tingling in his fingertips, and he starts tapping them on the table, like he always does when he’s anxious. It’s weird that he hadn’t been doing it before, Kame thinks, since ordering food at restaurants always puts him on edge because he just knows they’re going to get his order wrong.
“Finally you’re doing something normal,” Koki says. “I have been pretty sure you’re an alien for the past thirty minutes.”
“What are you talking about?” Kame says, relaxing into his normal posture. “I’m acting the same as always.”
Koki quietly stirs his drink with his straw. “Kame, you ordered pasta fresca.”
“So? I’m not allowed to get something different?”
“Kame-chan, you don’t like tomatoes.”
Kame feels confused. That’s true. He doesn’t like tomatoes. But it had sounded so good when he was looking at it on the menu that he hadn’t been able to think about ordering anything else. “I... I don’t know.”
“Okay,” Koki says, and then Yamapi is back, sliding into his seat next to Kame with an easygoing grin, pulling his sunglasses back off. Kame finds himself leaning toward him again, like a moth to a flame, and Koki stabs his tortellini with what Kame thinks is a bit excessive force.
They head outside after Kame takes the check, and Koki grabs Kame’s wrist when Yamapi goes to get his car. “Kame-chan, I don’t know what’s up with you, but-”
“Nothing’s up with me,” Kame says, and he can taste tomato bitter on his tongue. “Everything’s fine.” Kame thinks that’s true. His head feels clear as he stands here with Koki. Nothing amiss.
“Kame-”
And Yamapi is pulling up, and Kame pulls his wrist free, and gives Koki a big grin. “See you later, Koki,” he says, and Koki just nods as Kame climbs into the car.
“Want to go get ice cream?” Yamapi asks, and Kame should say no, because he’s got to look thin and have clear skin at Cannes next week, but Yamapi looks hopeful so he says yes. “I’m so glad we’re getting to spend so much time together,” Yamapi says, and pleasure curls up in Kame’s belly like a snake.
“Me too,” he says, and his toes feel numb.
It takes Kame a few moments to realize that it’s the ringing of the phone that has woken him up. He fumbles for the light switch and groans when it blinds him. Kame rubs his eyes and blinks as his brain slowly catches up with the situation. His phone has stopped ringing by the time Kame pulls himself up to grab it. He has four missed calls from Yamapi, and he’s about to call Yamapi back when his phone starts ringing again.
“Is everything alright?” Kame’s voice is thick with sleep, but Yamapi sounds cheerful and awake even though Kame's watch says it's almost 2am. "Why are you calling?"
"I wanted to talk to you," Yamapi answers and then seems to suddenly consider the hour and the possibility that Kame might have been sleeping. "I woke you up, didn't I? I'm sorry! I’ll just call you again in the morning and..."
"No!" the word leaves Kame's mouth almost on impulse. It feels almost like Yamapi’s anxiousness is pulling the word out of him, tugging with an invisible string. He bites his lower lip and blushes and clears his throat. "No, I mean... I'm already awake anyway, right? We can talk if you want to. I can... I can go to your place, if you want?" It’s fine, Kame rationalizes to himself, because it’s just meetings tomorrow, and Kame’s survived meetings on less sleep than this.
"Are you sure?" Yamapi sounds worried, but also like he really wants Kame to come, and the hopeful note in his voice makes Kame forget about the hour and his plans of resting and catching up on sleep.
"It's not a problem at all. It's still the same address, right? I'll get dressed and I'll be there as soon as I can."
Kame jumps off the bed as soon as the call is over. He has his clothes from the previous day piled at the foot of his bed, because he was supposed to put them into the laundry basket, but he wears them again because he doesn't feel like looking for new ones.
It's lucky that there are practically no cars out at this hour of the night, because Yamapi's house is a good distance away and Kame's already impatient enough as it is. He's usually a careful driver, but he skips a couple of red lights. He wants to arrive at Yamapi's as soon as possible, and he doesn't even know why, because they are only going to talk.
It takes almost ten minutes to find a spot to park the car, but when he finally rings Yamapi's doorbell, Yamapi's there with worn, old sweatpants and a wife-beater and a warm smile, and Kame feels something wake and flutter in his chest and spread all over his body until even his fingertips are tingling.
They share a beer on Yamapi's hideous couch, and talk about anything that crosses their minds, and Kame should be annoyed that Yamashita woke him up in the middle of the night for this, but he can't bring himself to be, because somehow he realizes he really wanted to talk with Yamapi too.
The beer cans pile easily on Yamapi's coffee table. It's a brand Kame doesn't usually like, but today he doesn't care much. It tastes better than usual, somehow; like something Kame likes. He's starting to feel tipsy though, and he's also starting to unconsciously lean towards Yamapi. He realizes the distance between them has disappeared when their shoulders touch, but even then he can't bring himself to care, because Yamapi's body is warm and solid against his, welcoming and comforting, and if anything Kame wants to touch more him. Yamapi wraps an arm around Kame's shoulders and pulls him a bit closer.
"I really wanted to see you. I'm glad you came."
"Yeah," Kame says, and he licks his lips nervously because Yamapi's eyes are dark and burning and fixed on his. "Yeah, me too."
Yamapi smiles and his hand squeezes Kame's shoulders, but Kame barely realizes it because he's mesmerized by Yamapi's eyes and Yamapi's lips that glisten plump and tempting. Kame doesn't remember ever feeling attracted to Yamapi, but suddenly he wants nothing but to kiss him.
Maybe he says that aloud, because the next moment Yamapi's leaning towards him, invading Kame's personal space with warmth that bleeds through Kame's clothes into his own skin and a smell of shampoo and cigarettes. When Yamapi kisses Kame he's sweet and gentle and demanding at the same time. He tastes like those cigarettes that make Kame wrinkle his nose, like the beer Kame hates, and like something that's simply Yamapi, Tomohisa, pure and undiluted.
He tastes like something Kame suddenly can't get enough of, even though before, he’d never wanted it at all.
Kame leaves Yamapi’s apartment at six in the morning so he can be home by seven to change, and he tumbles through his own front door at fifteen after the hour with only forty-five minutes left to get the work.
He strips down to his underwear and stands in the mirror. His hair is a mess, and his lips are swollen, and there are marks on his neck he won’t have trouble hiding but would require a lot of explanation if someone were to see.
He splashes cool water on his face, and then rubs BB cream under his eyes, smoothing his skin.
“What are you doing?” Kame asks his reflection, and Kame isn’t usually this careless. Kame usually would never cut it this close for work, because Kame hates being unprofessional more than anything.
Maybe, Kame thinks to himself, as he runs a brush through his hair before tying it back neatly, he just likes Yamapi more than he hates being late. Kame hadn’t thought you could fall into like with someone this fast, but Kame doesn’t doubt the way Yamapi’s lips had coaxed gasps from his lips and electricity through his veins as they had kissed on his sofa last night.
Kame’s flushed just thinking about it.
He puts on a suit, tightening his necktie extra carefully, so there’s no sign of his bruises when he folds the white collar of his dress-shirt down.
He’s still exactly on time for his meetings. But as the day wears on, he can’t seem to concentrate, his thoughts constantly wandering back to Yamapi’s hands pulling his jaw up to gain easier access to his mouth, or...
He finds himself having to have questions repeated, and his manager asks him several times if he’s okay, which Kame waves off with an unconcerned hand and muttered reassurances.
When he’s finally free, he pulls his phone from his pocket, and there’s just a text from Yamapi, that says come over, and it’s just what Kame has wanted to see all day.
He feels a bit crazy, the way he’s moving to Yamapi’s whims like a leaf in the wind, but he can’t help himself, and Kame’s never this silly, so maybe he’s owed this by the universe from all those times he’s told himself no.
Yamapi opens the door before Kame rings the bell, this time, dragging Kame inside by his Galliano neck-tie and immediately claiming his mouth. His hand pulls the tie from Kame’s hair, letting it tumble down into a mess on Kame’s shoulders, and then he’s weaving his fingers into it for leverage, tilting Kame’s head to the side so he can slip his tongue between Kame’s lips. Kame gasps at the first slide of Yamapi’s hot, wet mouth against his own, but then he’s reciprocating, twining their tongues together and enjoying the slow retreat of the urgency that had been hounding him all day.
“So distracting,” Kame gasps between kisses, and Yamapi pulls away to look at him.
“Me?” A smile tugs at the corners of Yamapi’s lips, and his bangs fall into his eyes, soft and feathered. Kame reaches up and pushes them out of his eyes.
“Yes, you,” Kame says, and Yamapi’s fingers tighten in his hair. “I couldn’t think of anything else all day.”
“Do you believe in magic?” Yamapi asks, and Kame snorts, slipping out of his shoes and pushing Yamapi back deeper into the flat, into the living room where their beer cans from last night still litter the table and floor.
“No,” Kame says. “Why?”
“No reason,” Yamapi says, and he presses a kiss to Kame’s forehead, gentle and sweet. “It’s just that this is a little like magic.”
“Why?” Kame whispers, as Yamapi’s hands carefully push Kame’s suit jacket down his shoulders. His fingers drag fire down Kame’s arms, even through his suit jacket, and Kame doesn’t say anything when the jacket hits the floor, despite the fact that it’s dry clean only. Maybe that’s the real magic-- that Yamapi makes Kame forget about all the things that mean so much to him with just a slight change in his tone.
“I wanted you to be thinking about me,” Yamapi says, and Kame shudders at the huskiness of his voice. “And you were.”
“That’s not magic,” Kame replies. “That’s attraction.”
“Mmm,” Yamapi says. “Just kiss me.” Kame trembles with all the feelings swirling around inside him; things he’s never felt before and never really imagined feeling, either. It’s overwhelming, but exciting, and Kame lets himself get lost in the sea, Yamapi’s kisses and soft touches crashing into him like waves.
Kame does.
One of the many advantages of working for Going! and Dramatic Game is that Kame often gets free tickets for baseball matches; good seats with VIP passes to meet the players, and often more than one. He rarely misses a game when he's free to go, and he's never short on people wanting to accompany him, and to be honest he's not even sure Yamapi likes baseball enough to accept the offer. But Yamapi does, and he seems so happy that Kame offered that Kame kind of wishes he could go with Yamapi alone. Alas, he has already invited more friends, and he can't cancel on them.
They are all excited about the game because it's two of Japan's top teams playing, and Kame should be too, but he's more excited about going to a baseball game with Yamapi than he is about the game itself. He answers his friends' excited comments with hums and short replies, as he's much more interested in Yamapi's anecdote about filming than on the match right now. It's weird because Kame loves baseball and normally he'd be the most riled up out of all his friends, but then Yamapi laughs, and the thought flees from Kame's mind because Yamapi's laugh is so beautiful and distracting.
He tries to explain to Yamapi what’s happening, and why it’s important or exciting, once the match starts. They are surrounded by Kame's other friends' enthusiasm, and the loud cheering of the crowd, and Yamapi seems interested in the game for the first few innings. As it advances, however, he starts to lose interest and get distracted. He asks Kame about what players he knows, and what it’s like hanging out with them, rather than about the game; about work plans and what does he expect from Cannes, and Kame starts to lose interest in the game, too. It's not that it's a boring game, one that Kame wouldn't enjoy normally, but somehow Yamapi claims all his attention and Kame's willing to give it. The players on the field can't compete with Yamapi's eyes and Yamapi's smile and Yamapi's voice, and by the time the game is over Kame doesn't even know who's won, and he couldn't care less.
Normally Kame would go down to the dugout or to the locker rooms to meet the players and congratulate them or console them, or generally make friends with guys he doesn’t know well yet. He doesn't feel like it today though, and he makes up a excuse about work and meetings when his friends ask him about it. They stare at him like he has committed some kind of unspeakable treason, but Kame just waves goodbye to them and grabs Yamapi's wrist to pull him away towards the car.
"Do you have a meeting now?" Yamapi frowns as soon as Kame starts the car.
"No, I just didn't feel like going today." Kame smiles without taking his eyes off the rear-view mirror, careful not to run over one of the multitudes of fans pouring from the stadium as he pulls out of the parking lot.
"Oh,” Yamapi says, licking his lips and leaning back in his seat. “You wanna go get drinks, then?” The grey stripe of his seatbelt across the white of his t-shirt draws Kame’s attention to his chest, and the muscles shift beneath the fabric, and Kame doesn’t want to go for drinks.
They leave the car in Kame's parking garage, and end up drinking at Kame's place instead of out, until they get tired of drinking and kiss instead. It's almost four in the morning when Yamapi leaves, and he only goes home because he has work early in the morning. Kame looks at the beer cans that litter his table and his crumpled clothes all over the floor and decides even showering can wait.
When Kame gets out of bed at ten there's an unread email on his phone from one of the players he's friends with.
Why didn't Kazu-kun come to see me to the locker room yesterday? Kazu-kun's cheering is always the best! I missed Kazu-kun :( :( :(
Kame frowns and chews on the inside of his cheek as he considers what to answer, because he had even forgotten it was his friend's team playing yesterday. He doesn't know what to say because he loves baseball and it's so unlike him to lose interest in it just like that, almost without realizing it. It's upsetting, and Kame wonders if maybe Koki was right and there's something really wrong with him that he has been too blind to see...
His phone vibrates again, with an incoming email from Yamapi, who whines at Kame about he's sleepy and the meeting is endless and boring and his manager is mean, and Kame can't help but laugh at the million frowning emoticons following the message. He starts to type up a reply immediately, all previous woes forgotten.
It's not like he's acting all that differently anyway, it's just the novelty of falling in like.
Kame means to say no, because he’s got a flight early the next morning and hundreds of reasons he should go back to his own apartment. Before trips, Kame likes to pack and repack his suitcase four times, just to make sure he’d pack it the same way if given another chance, and he wants to double-check that his shirts won’t get wrinkles in transit.
“You’re already packed, right?” Yamapi squints at him over the tops of his sunglasses, and Kame’s heart dives into his stomach and then rises again, like it has wings. “So come over.”
“Yes,” Kame says. “If you’d like.”
“I would very much like,” Yamapi whispers, and Kame goes.
There’s something more to tonight’s kisses-- something hot and heady that promises something else, and then there’s sweat and bold touches and an ache that builds and grows as they rock together, naked skin pressed against naked skin, and Yamapi’s groans are as loud as Kame’s own, so Kame doesn’t bother to police his own.
When they come together, Yamapi sinking inside of Kame and Kame feeling every inch, it’s more than Kame’s prepared more, and nothing he’s ever thought he wanted.
Later, tangled around each other in Yamapi’s striped cotton sheets, Kame tries to pull himself together and make sense of the past week.
“It’s like I can’t... It’s like I’m not in control of myself,” Kame says, letting his fingers walk up Yamapi’s stomach, and Yamapi giggles and grabs Kame’s hand, like it tickles.
“Is that really so bad?” Yamapi asks, and the question is flippant, but there’s a darkness in his voice that Kame finds as chilling as he does mesmerizing. Kame can still taste Yamapi in his mouth, and when he looks up and catches Yamapi’s eyes, he feels a pull in his stomach that he can’t deny.
He leans up and kisses Yamapi again, slow and easy, a lingering press of lips and tongues, Yamapi’s touch dragging Kame down into him until Kame can feel every shred of resistance in him melt away like nothing in the heat of it, until Kame is Yamapi and Yamapi is Kame, and there’s only the fire of skin on skin.
“No, it isn’t,” Kame says, and Yamapi sighs, running a hand through Kame’s hair and down his neck, fingers finding the ripples on his spine, skating along the bumps and making Kame shiver.
He feels controlled down to his fingertips.
“Do you believe in magic?” Yamapi asks again, and this time, Kame says ‘yes’.
Kame remembers, vaguely, wanting more than to make Yamapi smile, but not how that felt. It’s scary, but Kame can’t think about, because every time he tries the thought is gone, like water through fingers.
Kame’s manager picks Kame up in his own apartment to take him to the airport, and Kame sits lifelessly in the backseat of the car. He listens to his manager making lists of everything Kame shouldn’t forget while in Cannes, like Kame isn’t a perfect professional who knows all of those things better than everyone else does already. His suitcase is full of prep documents from Director Miike and the press management team; emails he’s printed out that detail how he’s expected to act, what he’s supposed to say and which questions he’s allowed to answer; of useful sentences in English and French, and pronunciation tips for both. It’s enough reading material to last him the whole flight.
Check in is fast: one of the advantages of being a celebrity, and Kame has a cup of coffee in a deserted VIP lounge with a few blessed moments of silence from his manager’s continuous and exhaustive fretting. He’s travelling in his comfortable clothes; jeans and a t-shirt and a black vest, dark shades and a fedora to hide his face. He likes to travel light like this, because it makes him feel young and free even if he’s going on a business trip. Kame flips over his phone to answer to Yamapi’s e-mail and doesn’t even bother to hide the smile taking over his lips.
“Kamenashi-san?” Kame looks up when his manager steps into the VIP lounge, Kame’s travel bag and his own smartphone in hand. “I have to leave for the agency a little earlier than expected. I trust you’ll be alright by your own until boarding time.”
“Yes.” Kame smiles and stands up, bows politely and takes his bag from the man.. “Thank you for everything.”
The man returns the bow and holds out his hand for a firm shake. “Good luck in Cannes.”
Kame bows again as the man leaves, and plops back down on his seat again when he’s out of sight. He entertains himself with his phone for a while, until the door to the lounge opens again. There are steps and the heavy noise of a full sports bag hitting the floor before someone sits down next to him, but Kame doesn’t even look up. Yamapi’s cologne is strong and distracting when the man leans in, and Yamapi’s lips are soft on Kame’s cheek; it makes Kame smile.
“I’m really happy you asked me to come with you,” Yamapi whispers into his ear. “I don’t want to let you go anywhere without me.”
“I never will, again,” Kame says, and Kame tilts his head just the way Yamapi likes, exposing his neck, and looks at him from the corner of his eye, which is also something Yamapi likes, even if he’s never said anything. Kame just knows, and all he wants to do is make Yamapi happy. “I’m yours.” The words sink down to his bones, and feel truer than anything else.
“Good,” Yamapi says. “You always say the right thing.”
Kame lets his lashes flutter closed, and a quick thought surfaces, asking Kame if he’ll ever be able to say the wrong thing again, but Yamapi presses his lips lightly to Kame’s ear, and the thought is gone.
Kame turns to Yamapi with a smile. “Of course I do.” He lowers his shades, and smiles, feeling aimlessly content.
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Date: 2012-07-26 07:45 am (UTC)i got mixed feelings after reading your fic..i mean i'm all for pikame getting together but feels like kame didn't have a choice on the matter..but that's just me..
other than that it was a great read..
He feels controlled down to his fingertips. when i read this, i was like, wow 1582 lyrics..
thanks again..
no subject
Date: 2012-07-26 11:41 am (UTC)It was super fun writing with you.
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Date: 2012-08-01 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 02:04 pm (UTC)but... i like it :)
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Date: 2012-11-18 11:22 pm (UTC)Thanks for sharing!