Rating: R (this one is kinda brutally honest on the male mindset scale. That means lust, by the way.)
Pairing(s): Kirito x Jun (again), Takeo x Kohta
Summary: Kirito and Takeo get drunk one night, and complain about how oblivious their objects of affection/seduction are. Crack fic. Do not take it seriously.
Special Notes: This is for pandamanium,who gave me the idea. YOU ROCK! I LOVE YOU!
Comments are pretty, and will always be appreciated.
Hide the Liquor
Takeo wasn’t quite sure what had happened. One second, he was seducing Kohta the only way he (or anyone else, for that matter) knew how, and the next, Kohta had run off to go play video games with Jun.
Takeo was left standing, alone, carrying a bento large enough to feed twenty people. He would have cried, but that just so wasn’t him.
He was, however, quite good at the “distressed pretty boy” look, so he threw it on for all it was worth (which is quite a lot on Ebay).
Kirito was quite ready to just give up. Okay, not really. He’d been trying to seduce Jun for ten years, and even if he hadn’t managed to pull Jun into bed, Kirito wasn’t, and never had been, a quitter.
He would succeed.
The only question was whether or not he’d be walking with a cane by then, or rolling around in a wheelchair.
Kirito went off to write more lyrics. And you thought he was a genius. Kirito is, in fact, just really sexually frustrated. That’s why his songs are so angry.
Takeo still hadn’t gone home. He’d opted to stay behind and “practice” instead of walking the-lonely-walk-of-a-man-who-can’t-get-t
Takeo had been so lonely for so long he had started to make up names for everything he did – most of them containing the words “lonely” or “celibate.”
Takeo sighed. Kohta may not have been a natural blonde, but he sure could act like an idiot sometimes… Or all the time…
Did he really think Takeo made him all that food just to be nice? Of course not! Takeo wanted to GET INTO HIS PANTS!
Takeo “practiced” some more. And by practice, I mean consume large amounts of alcohol.
It was great being in a famous band. The liquor stores delivered to you.
Kirito wandered around the halls aimlessly. He had absolutely no desire to go home yet. The essence of Jun’s presence still lingered there. Jun always spent so much time in Kirito’s home, but the cute little guitarist could just be so… so…
Honestly, the time he’d pushed Jun onto his bed and climbed on top of him had been a pretty big clue, right?
Apparently not. Jun had thought Kirito wanted a tickle fight. Which had, incidentally, been a great chance to grope him, but Kirito wanted more out of a relationship than just a couple grabs and lots of cold showers.
He wanted SEX.
He was a man in his prime, and his prime years were being wasted.
Life was so unfair.
Takeo would have been shocked at the sight of Kirito still in the building, if he weren’t so wasted. And if he could have been certain the fuzzy shape standing on the other side of the room was Kirito. It could have been anything. It could have been a walking lamp post, for all he knew. As it was, he settled for mild/befuddled surprise.
I would just like to state for the record that Takeo’s speech was not nearly as coherent as I wrote it down. It was, in fact, more like:
So it shouldn’t be to anyone’s surprise that Kirito’s reply was:
“I stayed a little late.” Kirito is, after all, psychic.
Kirito looked down at the bottles surrounding Takeo’s sprawling form. “It looks like you have stuff other than beer.”
“Ain’ got no beer ‘t all!”
Kirito considered cleaning everything up and taking Takeo home. For about two seconds, before common sense (and the fic writer) kicked in.
An hour later, Kirito was well on his way to catching up with Takeo. Kirito hates to lose, after all.
Omen: For clarity purposes, and to save my poor spell check a massive headache, I’m going to translate Kirito and Takeo’s drunken Japanese gibberish into proper English and sans the hiccups.
“I just don’t get it,” Takeo said, staring forlornly into his half empty bottle. “I make him lunch every day. And breakfast. And dinner. And snacks. But he still doesn’t even notice me.”
“He’ll notice if you stop making him lunch and… all those other things.”
“But that would be mean. I don’t want to be mean to Kohta.”
“You tease him almost as much as I do.”
“Yeah, that’s…” Takeo thought hard. “Showing my affection. Yeah.”
Kirito gave that the consideration that was his due. “Huh. I’m really affectionate, then.” A pause. “Aiji likes to tease, too.” Another pause. His face darkened. “He better keep his paws off my Jun.”
“Jun’s not yours.”
“He will be.” Kirito’s face promised extreme pain to anyone that dared argue.
Takeo dared. In fact, he laughed. “You’ve been chasing him for years! What, do you think he’s just being co- playing hard to get?”
Kirito would have killed him, but he couldn’t decide which of the three Takeos he wanted to kill first.
“Aiji doesn’t have paws anyway. So he can’t put any paws on Jun,” Takeo said, in that perfect seriousness you get when you’re drunk.
“Rill has paws, though. Maybe she puts her paws on Jun.”
Kirito didn’t like that one bit. No one touched his Jun but him. “My Jun.”
Takeo decided not to press the point. After all, even drunk, his survival instincts were intact.
Kirito looked over to the gigantinormous bento that sat up like a chaperone between the two of them.
“What’s that? A freaking chest?”
Takeo saddened. “That’s the bento I made for Kohta.” If he were a puppy his ears would have been drooping, complete with a tail between his legs. “I want him to like me!”
“You didn’t make enough.”
“Yeah, I know… That’s why he went to go play games with Jun. Jun always has lots of Kohta’s favorite food.”
Kirito was about to say that Takeo was wrong, Jun had lots of Kirito’s favorite food, when that kind of clarity you only really get when you’re drunk kicked in.
Takeo was apparently on the same mental page.
“You don’t think…”
“You don’t suppose…”
They stared at each other. It was impossible, it was horrifying, and it seemed more and more likely.
Kirito’s eyes narrowed. Brother or not, if Kohta had touched Jun in any way that was not platonic, he was going to regret it. The punishment Kirito had in mind involved torn clothes and DEATH. (His plan, in fact, was to raid Kohta’s closet and tear up everything in his wardrobe. He would then paint “DEATH” and “DIE” all over his little brother’s home.)
Kirito started to stand, but for some reason that he couldn’t quite fathom, his legs seemed to be made of rubber.
Takeo, ever the “father,” tried to catch him. And failed miserably.
Jun, Aiji, and Kohta were worried. They’d tried everything. Kirito and Takeo were nowhere to be found.
Aiji didn’t understand it. “You’ve forsaken me,” he muttered sadly to his precious phone. “You’ve never failed me before…”
Jun growled at him. “Shut up! Just shut up! Your stupid phone can just go to Hell with you!”
“Maybe if we just tried calling them again…”
“NO! It didn’t work the first twenty times, why the hell do you think it would work now?”
After three hours of pointless searching, combined with constant worry and NO SLEEP, Jun was far from his usual sweet self.
Kohta was near tears. “Maybe they fell asleep somewhere and got raped or got hit by a truck or maybe the sky fell on them or a meteor hit them or Oni killed someone and now they’re on the run…”
Kohta wasn’t helping Jun’s mood at all. In fact, he’d really kind of instigated Jun’s peevishness since he hadn’t stopped thinking up worst case scenarios and sharing them with the other two.
“Okay, if they’re not here then we’ll call the police,” Jun said, opening one of the many doors to the stage.
On the stage, the three could vaguely make out two very familiar forms. One was writhing on top of the other and moaning.
Jun saw red.
In some corner of his mind that was still slightly sane, Jun dimly noticed that Kohta was acting just as violently as he was.
Jun ran onto the stage (breaking some sort of speed record as he did so), and yanked Kirito off of Takeo.
For miles around, people were torn out of a sound sleep to a loud noise that sounded a lot like a famous guitarist and likewise God of Cuteness screaming, “MINE!!!!!!”
And an immediate echo of said scream that sounded like it came from a famous bassist from the same famous band.
Kirito stared at his best friend. He’d never before seen Jun so… so…
Seriously, to his drunken eyes, Jun seemed to be spitting sparks of fire.
He’d never been so turned on in his life.
It helped that Jun was clutching him with the ferocity of a young tiger. Kirito’s feet weren’t even touching the floor.
If he had managed to drag his eyes away from The Cute One being not so cute, he’d have noticed that Kohta was clutching a certain drummer and glaring at him in the exact same way that Jun was glaring at Takeo.
Aiji looked from one pair to the other, decided that his presence was no longer necessary, and decided to leave. He sent a silent congratulations to his best friend Kirito. He also decided to call and thank all of the janitors in the building for agreeing to not inform anyone of Kirito’s and Takeo’s presence in the building.
While he was at it, he also needed to call the liquor store for agreeing to send all that alcohol across town.
How about that? Aiji the mastermind. I was actually going to end it on the day after, but I thought that the bit with Aiji was a perfect finish.
I absolutely ADORED writing Jun angry and possessive. Oh my God, that was fun. I should do that again. Angry Jun kind of gives me this mental image of a Kitty Jun with his fur all standing up and his tail all crazy.
I did as you asked and didn’t put ANY Japanese in it this time. I might put some more into my other fics, but I didn’t think it was necessary for this one.