Butoukan, C=Normal (The Like a Lady Remix)

Title: C=Normal (The Like a Lady Remix) [Yara/Yamamoto]
Rating/Warnings: R for Yara having his way with the kouhai. Temporary genderswitch.
Summary: Sooner or later, Yamamoto will figure out that Yara showing up as a girl is not at all an accident. Probably.
AN: Thanks to my betas, diamondsjack and timeripples, and also to that other person who kept trying to get me to send bits over the phone.

This is a remix of Untitled Yaramoto Genderswitch by henshin.

C=Normal (The Like a Lady Remix)

Scene .5

Yamamoto calls their sex life awkward, much to Yara’s bemusement. It isn’t awkward at all, actually, at least not after that first time when Yamamoto had needed a demonstration of exactly which part went where when all the parts were the same. Yara’s been around more than a little, and he sure wouldn’t be hanging around for sex that could only be qualified as ‘awkward.’

“Yarachiii,” Yamamoto whines under him, hair mussed and eyes dark with lust and frustration, and Yara chuckles because it’s totally obvious that Yamamoto wants to flip their positions. Sooner or later he’ll figure out that Yara would let him if he just tried it.


It takes Yara a little while to realize that ‘awkward’ is just Yamamoto code for ‘not terribly heterosexual,’ but they’ve been together for so long that Yara just assumes that it’s force of habit, rather than actual distress on Yamamoto’s part. It sure doesn’t seem to mean much when Yamamoto’s curled up next to him in a warm, sated tangle of limbs, putting up no argument about the way Yara’s fingers roam his skin in ticklish circles.

But eventually Bunichi, of all people, points out that maybe it means a little more than Yara thinks.

“Well, he can’t take you home, can he?” Bunichi points out, mouth half-full of Senga’s mother’s onigiri, and that’s what brought the topic up in the first place. “He’s close with his parents, you know that.”

“And?” Yara raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t you think,” Bunichi swallows hugely, “that at his age they’re starting to ask about the lack of girlfriends and grandkids?”

Yara frowns and glances over at the knot of Tsukada, Senga, and Yamamoto, Senga and Yamamoto snickering and leafing through some girlie mag while Tsukada tries to look like a distressed older brother. Yara frowns harder as he turns back to Bunichi, recalling that in some distant pre-Butoukan life, Yamamoto had mentioned he was a breast man.

His frown turns into a downright scowl when Yamamoto hollers, “Geez, she could suffocate you with those!” and Senga’s eyes double in size before Tsukada snatches the magazine away.

“Don’t worry.” Bunichi’s grin is more than a little disturbing when Yara tears his gaze back to him. “I can totally help you out.”

The stuff comes from Kanjani8, which Yara doesn’t really want to know much more about, and Bunichi says the eldest Muro had some success with it, which Yara wants to know even less about. Bunichi calls it an herbal supplement. Yara hopes that whoever came up with the concept of euphemisms has since been sent to that big Summary in the sky.

Mostly, as he examines himself in his bedroom mirror, or herself now Yara supposes, Yara is just really glad that she doesn’t live with her own parents anymore.

“How is it?” Bunichi asks casually over the phone, like they’re talking about Yara’s new jeans and not the fact that his dick has been sent on hiatus. Her dick. This whole thing is giving Yara a migraine.

“It’s…” Yara pokes at her chest, her belly, her hip. “I’m…this is…” Everything is softer, squishier, and as for how well-endowed she used to be…

Yara hopes Yamamoto’s still a breast man.

Judging from the way Yamamoto’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, seems like Yara might be safe on that count. But then Yamamoto goes surprising her, like he sometimes does.

“You aren’t,” Yamamoto lifts a hand like he’s going to touch Yara, but doesn’t, “stuck like that, are you?”

“Why?” Yara grabs Yamamoto’s wrist and forces it down until Yamamoto’s hand is on her shoulder. “You don’t like it?” Yara puts her other hand on her hip. “Not good enough to meet your parents?”

“To meet my…” Yamamoto’s eyes widen, then flicker away from Yara’s. He tugs his hand away. “That’s not it. Let’s just practice.”

Yara lets it alone for the rest of the afternoon, plays it cool. Not like she doesn’t have her own issues to worry about, now that her center of gravity is all different and it’s like her decades of dance and conditioning have all gone to shit. She keeps half an eye on Yamamoto, though, enough to see the others talking to him.

Whatever they say to him must do some good, since by the end of the day, Yamamoto comes sidling back up to Yara, eyeing her sideways, smile small and hopeful.

“Can I come home with you?” he asks, smile firming up when Yara agrees.

Yamamoto’s hand sneaks around Yara’s waist, and Yara blinks at the way the heat of Yamamoto’s palm sparks more warmth in her chest.

Scene 1.5

“What’s the matter?” she asks, smile sharp when she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, Yamamoto hesitating in front of her. She lets her hand drift down to the inside of her thigh and thumbs the ridge of her jeans’ inseam. “Can’t remember what to do with one of these?”

“I remember just fine!” Yamamoto retorts, then adds “Oof!” when Yara grabs him and tumbles him into bed, rolls them over so that Yamamoto’s warm and wide-eyed underneath her. Yara shifts his weight for better leverage, then hisses as her nipples drag against Yamamoto’s chest, caught off-guard by the spike of sensation.

“Seriously?” Yamamoto demands, the spark of frustration back in his eyes, and that sends a different sort of sensation through Yara’s belly. “You’re a fucking girl and I still don’t get to be on top?”

“If you want it, just take it,” Yara says, giving up the secret, the heat pooling in her belly flashing even hotter when Yamamoto grins and finally just does it already, rolls her over and pins Yara’s wrists to the bed. Yamamoto rolls his hips and Yara’s legs part with a mind of their own, letting Yamamoto settle close, snug against her.

“What’s it feel like?” Yamamoto asks, as well he ought to since Yara’s breath is already short.

“It’s different,” Yara manages, words edging on a soft moan as Yamamoto grinds against her with more purpose.

“Better?” Yamamoto asks, voice just this side of worried, and Yara shakes her head.

“Just different,” she insists, then yanks Yamamoto down for a kiss before he decides to stop and overanalyze every damn thing. They can talk about their feelings later; right now if Yara’s got a cootch, she figures she might as well use it.

Turns out it’s not as easy as all the porn made it seem (Yamamoto insists it’s because Yara’s never done it before as a girl; Yara doesn’t care for his smug tone), but it’s more than good enough, especially when you add in the fact that girls don’t have to wait for round two. Or three.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Yamamoto demands when Yara’s hands start wandering as usual, but he looks happy enough, satisfied in a sort of protective way that he’d never had when Yara’d had a dick. Yara wonders if he ought to be indignant about that, but he feels enough afterglow still to let it pass. “Hey, so.” Yamamoto clears his throat. “Wanna meet my parents?”

“As a girl?” Yara raises an eyebrow as though such a thought had never occurred to her. Can’t have Yamamoto getting an inflated sense of self-importance, after all.

“Well, we’ll have to fix you up a little,” Yamamoto says, too quickly, like he’s been thinking about it, that brat, and then before Yara can work up a proper argument Yamamoto drags her out of bed and over to the mirror to demonstrate how badly she needs a mini-skirt.

Scene 2.5

Dinner with the Yamamoto family is awkward to say the least. Yamamoto’s parents look Yara up and down with sharp eyes, and Yara isn’t sure if they can’t figure it out at all or can see exactly what’s going on through the outfit they borrowed from Tsukada’s sister. She isn’t even sure which would be funnier or more disturbing or why she even bothered to do this at all, as a matter of fact.

“Thanks,” Yamamoto says softly when they have a moment alone in the living room after dinner. Yamamoto’s parents are clearing the table, and Yamamoto is sitting close enough that his knee brushes Yara’s, bare past the hem of the skirt. His lips brush Yara’s cheek as well. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

Oh right, Yara thinks to herself sourly. Before she can say anything in return, Yamamoto’s mother returns with coffee, and Yara’s thoughts are occupied with keeping her knees tight together so she doesn’t flash anybody with Tsukada’s sister’s heart-print panties.

“These shoes suck,” Yara complains as Yamamoto walks her to the train station afterwards. She’s clinging to Yamamoto’s arm a bit more tightly than necessary, but Yamamoto’s grin says he’s digging every moment of their public display, and anyway the heels really do suck. “How does Tsuka’s sister wear this shit?”

“I think it explains a lot, really,” Yamamoto says, and for a second the blisters are forgotten as Yara and Yamamoto snicker together at Tsukada’s expense.

They pause at the gate, Yara digging around in her bag for her train pass, and when she looks up, Yamamoto is watching her with that same protective, affectionate look.

“I mean it,” Yamamoto says. “Thank you.”

Yara snorts, shoving down the girly feelings that seem to be the downside of the boobs and the extended orgasms. “You really want to thank me?” she asks. Yamamoto nods. “Bring me back to meet them when I’m normal.”

For a long moment, Yamamoto is silent, but then he takes a deep breath, looks Yara in the eye, and nods again. “I’m not hiding anything,” Yamamoto says, eyes uncertain but voice brave.

Yara sneaks a kiss while she thinks nobody’s looking, the station mostly empty with the late hour. They spring apart when somebody clears their throat loudly, and it turns out to be a tiny obaasan with a large shopping bag who looks like she’s not afraid to use it.

“Sorry, Takada-san,” Yamamoto says, blushing furiously. The woman sniffs at the state of Japanese youth and ambles on her way.

Yara supposes that just having a cootch doesn’t solve all your problems after all.

Scene 3.5

It’s a huge relief when everything does fix itself, all the parts back where they started. Not like Yara was that worried, but on the other hand, Bunichi did say that the stuff came from Kanjani8. Yara’s not sure anybody in that unit would notice no matter which way their parts ended up.

His relief is somewhat tempered by the fact that Yamamoto seems to be avoiding him despite all his big talk about not wanting Yara stuck the other way.

“I’ll get him, don’t worry,” Tsukada says, slapping Yara on the shoulder on his way by. And Yara will say this for his bendy little unit, they know how to work together, because Bunichi and Senga descend upon him at that moment and keep him busy with a new backflip for Senga until Tsukada returns.

“Nikaido won’t be jealous when you break your pretty little neck,” Yara lectures when Senga muffs it for the fifth time because he won’t stop talking, cuffing Senga across the back of the head when Senga hops back to his feet. “Tsuka-chan, spot this moron, and don’t break him or Tackey’ll kill me.” Then he turns to Yamamoto, lurking at Tsukada’s shoulder. “Hope you’re ready for a workout after that nice break you just took for yourself.”

“I’m ready,” Yamamoto announces, looking Yara right in the eye and not really talking about practice at all. “I’m definitely ready.”

Scene 4.5

“That wasn’t so bad,” Yamamoto says with relief when he manages to sneak Yara off to his bedroom, and since the worst thing that happened was that Yamamoto’s mother called Yara a dyke, Yara supposes that he agrees.

“Maybe they were just too shocked to react,” Yara warns, making sure the door is locked behind them. “Because I really doubt they’re too psyched you have a boyfriend who was your girlfriend last week.”

“Well,” Yamamoto crosses his arms, expression stubborn, “they’ll just have to get used to it.”

Yara grins, sharp and heated, and then strikes like a cobra, knocking Yamamoto onto his bed, sprawled on his back. Yara grabs Yamamoto’s wrists and holds him down tight, enjoying the view.

Yamamoto doesn’t fight him even a little the first time, which Yara figures is more than fair since he’d necessarily been the girl the last couple (dozen) times. But he’s glad anyway, because it seems better than usual, the way they fit together in sharp angles, their dicks caught between their stomachs, the way Yamamoto digs his fingers tight into Yara’s skin, not afraid to bruise. He’s hot and slick around Yara’s fingers, making Yara think about Yamamoto’s fingers inside him, and Yara lingers there longer than usual, until Yamamoto begs.

And as much as Yamamoto plainly does want it, he still fists the sheets pretty tightly when Yara pushes in. It’s not that Yara’s never noticed that before, and he tells himself he’s just trying to keep it from ending too quickly when he slows his pace. Yamamoto blinks up at Yara as he takes a deep breath and relaxes himself around Yara, letting Yara slide in the rest of the way with a groan.

“Learn something this week?” Yamamoto taunts, smirking to cover the waver in his voice. “Maybe you should be a girl more often.”

“Maybe you should shut up and hang on,” Yara growls back, digging his knees in so that he drives all the air out of Yamamoto’s lungs on his next thrust.

Yamamoto does what Yara tells him to, wraps his arms around Yara’s neck and clings tight to him as Yara drives into him, fast and steady. They have to be quieter than usual, but Yara doesn’t mind that so much since it means that Yamamoto murmurs things instead, pleas and gasps of Yara’s name, half of them barely intelligible and all of them making Yara’s blood run hotter. Yara works a hand in between them and tugs Yamamoto’s dick until he spills over Yara’s hand, curled up tight and shaking against Yara.

He needs a minute to come down, but that’s all right by Yara because after that Yamamoto is nothing but warm, loose-limbed cooperation. It makes Yara want to take his time and a little sorry he can’t, but then Yamamoto urges come on, come on, fingers tight on Yara’s biceps, and Yara spends himself without any regret at all, actually.

When he can think again, he realizes he’s collapsed across Yamamoto’s chest, probably heavier than hell. Yamamoto isn’t complaining though; his eyes are half-closed and his fingers are carding slowly through Yara’s hair.

“I’m really glad you didn’t get stuck as a girl,” Yamamoto says eventually. It’s not much in the way of romance, but it makes a familiar slow burn start up low in Yara’s belly, makes him lift himself up onto his elbows and grin down at Yamamoto with obvious intent.

His fingers curl back around Yamamoto’s wrists, Yamamoto’s pulse speeding under Yara’s thumbs. Yamamoto looks up at him with eyes that are dark with want, and a touch of resignation.

“So I only get to top when you’ve misplaced your dick?” he complains as he struggles against Yara’s grip (but not that hard).

Yara looks right back, gaze even. “If you want it,” he tells him, “then just take it.”

Yamamoto’s grin as he flips them over makes heat rush through Yara, and he’s glad that at least he didn’t wear the skirt for nothing.

Not that he plans on telling Yamamoto that anytime soon. He’ll figure it out himself, sooner or later.


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