ABC-Z, Our Little Wishes

Title: Our Little Wishes [Totsuka/Hashimoto]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for rough sex and unreasonable demands.
Summary: In the wake of Kis-My-Ft2’s debut announcement, Totsuka has had more than enough of being reasonable, and Hashimoto doesn’t mind being in the line of fire.
AN: I wanted to write something about how Totsuka refused to talk at the concerts when the debut was announced, and how in spite of how excited I was, I still totally felt bad for him, and all of ABC-Z. It turned out sort of…not as cute and happy and I usually write this pairing, but what can you do. Title from ABC-Z’s new song, “Bokura no LOVE&PEACE” which I posted a translation for here.

Starts right after With or Without You that yeska_noka posted a couple days ago.

Our Little Wishes

Totsuka is leaning against the wall when Hashimoto finds him. His eyes are closed, head back against the cinderblock of the backstage, but it can only be Hashimoto, given the quick patter of his feet and the way he comes to a stop just inside the normal bubble of Totsuka’s personal space, close enough that some of his usual warmth brushes along Totsuka’s skin.

“Found your coat?” Hashimoto asks, and Totsuka hums a brief yes, since the coat is in fact in his hands. That’s the errand Totsuka had excused himself to do ten or so minutes ago. It took him a whole minute and a half to find it; since then he’s been leaning against the wall, letting it cool his back, taking deep, slow breaths.

For another few seconds, Hashimoto doesn’t say anything else, and Totsuka wonders if there’s any chance Hashimoto could believe that he really has just been fetching his coat all this time.

“Totsuka’s angry, huh?” Hashimoto asks, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “About Kisumai?”

“It’s not like that,” Totsuka answers. He doesn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t on stage and he doesn’t now. It’ll be fine, eventually. But right now, it isn’t. It’s going to be a lot less fine if people keep making him talk about it, even if the alternative had been embarrassing for all of them on stage.

Not as embarrassing as it would have been if he’d opened his mouth.

“You should be,” Hashimoto says bluntly, making Totsuka suppress a sigh. “You should be. You’re just as good, better, you’ve been here longer and you’re prettier, and…”

“Hasshi, please,” Totsuka begs quietly. Hashimoto’s loyalty is endearing and occasionally useful, but at the moment, it’s more than Totsuka can stand. “I don’t want to talk about—”

“You should be angry,” Hashimoto insists, the sudden force in his voice making Totsuka open his eyes finally. Hashimoto looks it even, jaw set in a tight line startlingly different from his usual easy-going smile. “I am! It’s not fair, just ’cause of the group they stuck you in, it could be you just as easily!”

“Don’t talk to me about fair,” Totsuka warns, struggling not to snap at Hashimoto and not at all in the mood to soothe anybody’s temper no matter how much of a favorite kouhai they are. “You know better, drop it.”

“I’m gonna fix it,” Hashimoto vows, his gaze sharp and determined, making the knot in Totsuka’s stomach clench up tighter.

Drop it,” Totsuka hisses, fingers twisting a little in his coat.

“I’ll figure it out,” Hashimoto doesn’t even slow down, eyes narrowing with his seriousness. “I’m gonna make it so that Totsuka gets what he ought to.”

“Stop it,” Totsuka orders, thinking about just escaping, but Hashimoto’s leaning in too close to make it practical. “There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing anybody can do about it! You don’t think there’s not a hundred other guys trying to figure it out just the same as you?”

“You’re better than all of them,” Hashimoto retorts, and the ugly, slippery feeling that Totsuka’s been trying to shove down in his chest, the jealousy and frustration and the being left behind, swells at Hashimoto’s words, all the things the ugliest part of Totsuka’s heart whispers when it’s like this. He knows better than to say them, though, or to think them, or to let them get any kind of foothold at all. Hashimoto never knows better when he really ought to, though. “And I’m gonna make it so we do, definitely, no matter what.”

“That’s selfish,” Totsuka does finally snap, at the end of his ability to endure even Hashimoto, “it’s childish, but I guess if I were seventeen again, the kind of seventeen you are, then I could just spout whatever crap about debut too, couldn’t I? Like you aren’t the one that Johnny himself isn’t going to just whisk away one of these days, no warning, no reason, just like that!”

“I won’t do it,” Hashimoto snaps back, eyes flashing even more angrily. “If Tottsu can’t, I won’t!”

Stop it,” Totsuka barks, pressing even tighter against the wall as if he could sink through it. He doesn’t want to hear any more, doesn’t want Hashimoto’s promises or loyalty, is sick of being the grown-up, heartsick of always being reasonable when he doesn’t want to be reasonable at all.

“If it’s not somewhere you can be beside me,” Hashimoto meets Totsuka’s glare with an even, unflinching gaze, “then I won’t go.”

It’s the plain, calm way that Hashimoto answers in response to Totsuka’s pitched frustration that makes Totsuka go limp against the wall, anger turning into a cold, heavy weight in his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut again when they start to sting.

“You’re so stupid,” he whispers, voice thickening, and this was exactly what he was trying to avoid when he came back here in the first place. “So stupid.”

“That’s okay,” Hashimoto says, arms warm around Totsuka suddenly, gathering him in close and tight, until Totsuka’s face is tucked against his neck. Totsuka’s next breath hitches, and Hashimoto’s T-shirt soaks up Totsuka’s first tears before he can actually cry them. “I’ll still figure it out. Even if those other guys can’t, it’s ’cause they want it for themselves. If it’s for Tottsu, I’ll do it.”

Totsuka mumbles for Hashimoto to just shut up already, but he doubts Hashimoto can hear him clearly with the way his face is pressed against Hashimoto’s shirt. His arms circle Hashimoto’s waist without Totsuka exactly telling them to do it, and Hashimoto squeezes him a little tighter in return.

“Take me someplace, okay?” Hashimoto asks, body warm and scent familiar when Totsuka tries to draw a deep breath. It’s hardly calming, with the way adrenaline and anger are still chasing hot through Totsuka’s veins. “Home, or wherever, I don’t care. Take me someplace, you can have anything you want from me.”

“You are such a fucking hazard,” Totsuka tells him, which they both know means yes.

Totsuka pulls away to put himself together, at least enough so that they can leave, but Hashimoto doesn’t let him go far, one arm looped through Totsuka’s in casual possession. Totsuka thinks about telling Hashimoto to stop, to let go so he can get his coat on, but it seems like too much effort, all of it, and so he simply trails along wherever Hashimoto leads.

Hashimoto leads them out of the warren of backstage with practiced familiarity. The others are all backstage by now, a ragtag crowd of half-costumed juniors and friends, but Hashimoto deftly avoids anyone who might want to talk. Totsuka heaves a little sigh of relief when they escape from the most crowded places, and Hashimoto slides his hand down to squeeze Totsuka’s as he tugs them towards one of the side doors.

Outside, the night air feels soothing against Totsuka’s face and he lets it wash over him a minute before another thought strikes him. “Hasshi, your coat.”

“Whatever.” Hashimoto shrugs, clearly not going back for it. “Sanapi can pick it up for me, or Tsuka-chan. Let’s go already.”

The cold doesn’t bother Totsuka very much, but Hashimoto is obviously shivering by the time they’re halfway to the station. Totsuka hands over his coat without asking, and orders Hashimoto to just put it on already when he tries to protest about it.

“And mail Tsuka-chan about your coat,” he reminds. “You’ll forget.” He pauses a beat. “You already forgot, didn’t you?”

“It’s ’cause other stuff is more important,” Hashimoto grumbles, but he’s already putting his arms through Totsuka’s coat’s sleeves and then digging his phone out of his pocket. “Nn, message, huh?”

“Mm.” Totsuka’s gaze drifts over the way his coat barely comes anywhere near Hashimoto’s wrists. “Important?”

Hashimoto makes an indistinct noise, brow furrowed a little. “It’s nothing,” he says, giving his head a little shake and thumbing the mail off his screen. He starts his new mail with a flourish, obviously meant to distract. “To Tsuka-chan~.”

It’s unlike Hashimoto to try and hide anything from Totsuka, but Totsuka lets it go without argument. “Should we eat something before we go back?”

“Tottsu’s taking me home?” Hashimoto looks up from his phone to ask, eyes bright and cheeks pink, grin far too appealing. Totsuka nods. “Something fast, then. The fastest thing.”

“Faster than you?” Totsuka can’t resist murmuring. Hashimoto’s laugh is clear and bright in the cold air as he drops his phone in a pocket and hurries him the rest of the way to the station.

The station conbini is more than good enough for both of them, and Hashimoto polishes off two onigiri while they’re still standing on the platform. Totsuka doesn’t feel much like eating, but he nurses a can of coffee, letting it warm his hands.

“Have some,” Hashimoto offers a bite of the third onigiri. Totsuka shakes his head, but then gives in and has a bite when Hashimoto eyes him sharply. “And you’re eating this last one too.”

“Who put you in charge?” Totsuka wonders aloud. Hashimoto’s mouth purses a moment, and then he forces the rest of the half-eaten onigiri into Totsuka’s hand.

“It’s ’cause you won’t take care yourself,” he informs Totsuka, shaking the bag with the rest of the food threateningly, and just then their train arrives.

In between being forcibly fed, Totsuka has the unpleasant realization that they definitely will not be home late enough for his family to have gone to bed. He wishes the stops wouldn’t go quite so fast, or that the rail system weren’t quite so reliable, but it isn’t like they’re going to stop for just him after all.

“Not that anything does,” he says, mostly to himself. Hashimoto looks over at the sound of Totsuka’s voice, but Totsuka doesn’t bother to clarify. Let Hashimoto play translator for once, he figures. Hashimoto scootches just that much closer and Totsuka leans his cheek against Hashimoto’s shoulder, closing his eyes as if he’s asleep.

Sure enough, once they reach the Totsuka home, even Totsuka’s little sister is still up, curled up on the couch watching some trashy drama or other, her head popping up over the back of the couch at the sound of the door.

“We’re back~!” Hashimoto calls in response to her greeting; both Totsukas roll their eyes at each other.

“Don’t you have school tomorrow, baby sister?” Totsuka asks on the way by, reaching over to muss up her hair. Both moves are calculated to make her splutter, so that Totsuka can push Hashimoto by without actually engaging in conversation. He’s hoping to actually make it the whole way to the stairs, but no such luck. His mother is already coming out of the kitchen before they’re within a dozen steps of the staircase.

“I thought I heard your voice, Shota,” Totsuka-san says, wiping her hands dry on her apron as she eyes them up and down.

“Forgot about your super sonic hearing,” Totsuka sighs, gritting his teeth when Hashimoto leans in to ‘whisper’ that his mother is better than Ultraman.

“Darn right,” Totsuka-san agrees. “Spending the night, Hashimoto-kun? Spare blankets in the usual spot. Can I get you boys anything? How was the—”

“We’re fine, we’re fine,” Totsuka interrupts, turning Hashimoto towards the stairs with quick hands and giving him a push, ignoring the pout Hashimoto throws over his shoulder at not being allowed to gossip with his mother. “Nothing new to report, so we’ll just be…”

Totsuka-san raises an eyebrow, and Totsuka swallows a curse. Her expression turns sympathetic, and Totsuka realizes she already knows. “Your sister got a mail. Really?”

Totsuka feels heavy all over, and has to close his eyes a second. “Tomorrow, please. Not right now.” He feels the touch of his mother’s hand against his hair for a moment, gentle, and then Totsuka turns and follows Hashimoto up the stairs, in a rush to get both them into his room and to lock everybody else out.

“She knows, huh?” Hashimoto asks as soon as Totsuka does manage to get the door shut, and when he turns around, Hashimoto is already sitting on his bed, stripping off Totsuka’s jacket and his T-shirt.

“You can start being quiet right now, thanks,” Totsuka informs him. He relents almost immediately, though, just enough to ask, “Do you want a bath or anything first?”

Hashimoto shakes his head. “I just want Tottsu.”

“Must be nice to always get what you want,” Totsuka says, a little of his temper returning as Hashimoto’s tone reminds him of their earlier conversation. Hashimoto doesn’t answer, but his gaze is sympathetic, and it just riles up Totsuka further. The flash of anger feels a lot better than the heaviness that’s been sitting like a rock in Totsuka’s stomach for hours now. “Must be nice to be the youngest and the cutest, to blunder in and have things rearrange themselves just for you.”

“I…” Hashimoto starts, but he doesn’t get any further because Totsuka grabs him by the shoulders and shoves him down onto his back. He crawls over top of Hashimoto and holds him down like that, still fully clothed where Hashimoto is already half-undressed, and leans in to seize Hashimoto’s mouth.

It’s easy to lose himself in Hashimoto, and Totsuka wants nothing more than exactly that at this particular moment. Hashimoto is warm and willing under his hands, offering no protest when Totsuka gives his hair a casual yank or bites down on his lower lip. His cooperation just gets under Totsuka’s skin even more, though, making him dig his fingers into Hashimoto’s skin a little harder, hold him down a little tighter with his weight.

It isn’t until Totsuka slides down and starts to work a trail of small bites down Hashimoto’s neck that Hashimoto starts to squirm underneath him. Totsuka ignores him, focusing on the way Hashimoto is hardening against him and on the throb of Hashimoto’s pulse under his mouth.

Hey,” Hashimoto gasps when Totsuka bites down harder than he ought to. It’ll leave a mark and the makeup girls will yell at Hashimoto for it; that thought makes Totsuka grin, lips curling up against Hashimoto’s skin, and suck a little harder at the skin, already hot under his tongue.

He feels Hashimoto’s hands slide down his sides, go for the hem of his shirt, and that’s when Totsuka sits up, grabbing for Hashimoto’s wrists and pushing them back down against the bed.

“Tottsuuu,” Hashimoto whines quietly. Totsuka tells him to shut up, tightening his fingers around Hashimoto’s wrists until Hashimoto whines again, wordlessly. He stares up at Totsuka with his big, dark eyes full of trust, but it just makes Totsuka want to lash out harder, to push Hashimoto’s trust until it snaps.

“Don’t move,” he orders, because he can’t hold Hashimoto down and strip off the rest of their clothes at the same time, as much as he wants to. When he lets go, Hashimoto’s wrists stay right where they are, and he doesn’t do any more than shiver when Totsuka yanks down roughly on the zipper of Hashimoto’s jeans.

He makes a soft noise when Totsuka yanks his jeans and boxers down with one pull, cock mostly hard already when it springs free. Totsuka eyes him, thinking about if they were in a place where he could make Hashimoto scream, thinking about maybe doing it anyway even though Hashimoto will have to keep himself quiet. Hashimoto shifts a little against the sheets as Totsuka goes on staring at him, cock hardening further under Totsuka’s sharp gaze. Totsuka reaches over to drag fingers through the dark trail of hair leading down from Hashimoto’s navel, and Hashimoto’s hips come up into the touch.

“I said don’t move,” Totsuka repeats, giving the little hairs a sharp tug. Hashimoto hisses and his eyes go even wider, but he relaxes back down flat on the bed.

Totsuka stands and starts to strip off his own clothes, but he takes his time about it, and he keeps his eyes on Hashimoto the whole time. Hashimoto keeps himself still enough that Totsuka can’t find something to reprimand him for, but Hashimoto’s gaze moves enough for all of him, raking over Totsuka’s skin hungrily as Totsuka bares it.

“You’re shameless,” Totsuka growls when he’s dropped the last of his clothing to the floor. It makes goosebumps run down Hashimoto’s bare arms, and Totsuka reaches down to chase them with his fingertips, making more rise in their wake. “You’re just begging for it, begging to be used.”

“If it’s Tottsu,” Hashimoto answers, despite Totsuka’s orders to stay quiet. His gaze is steady, focused only on Totsuka as if waiting for his reaction, and Totsuka wonders if he’s trying to get punished, at least a little.

“Don’t pretend it’s just me,” Totsuka says, narrowing his eyes. “Liar. You think I can’t name a dozen people who’ve had you without even trying? Can you name a dozen who haven’t?”

“Like you can,” Hashimoto protests. “It’s ’cause I’m ABC’s Z!” But Totsuka doesn’t want Hashimoto’s brand of logic, however on the nose it might be at this particular moment; he can think of about fifteen better uses Hashimoto’s mouth could be put to.

“Roll over, on your knees,” Totsuka orders, “and come here.” Once Hashimoto’s gotten himself turned over and crawled as close to the edge of the bed as he can and still balance, Totsuka gets a hand tight in Hashimoto’s hair and pushes him down. Hashimoto gets the idea right away and leans over the edge far enough to lick at the tip of Totsuka’s cock, and once he’s mostly in the right spot, Totsuka pushes in for more.

The angle is awkward for Hashimoto, which is exactly how Totsuka wants it; he can’t put his hands on Totsuka’s hips because he needs them on the bed for balance, can’t hold on or do anything besides let Totsuka have his way as Totsuka gets his other hand buried in Hashimoto’s hair as well and tugs him roughly forward. Totsuka’s got all the leverage, feet planted firmly on the floor, and when he starts to thrust along with pulling Hashimoto’s hair, satisfaction crackles up Totsuka’s spine at the low, desperate noise Hashimoto makes around his cock.

Totsuka thinks they might have vocal practice tomorrow, but the thought just makes him take Hashimoto’s mouth that much more roughly on the next stroke.

“Since your sweet little voice is doing me exactly zero good anyway,” Totsuka finds himself snarling. It’s cruel, he knows, but he can’t be bothered to stop himself. “I think this is a much better use.”

Hashimoto opens his eyes to look up at Totsuka for a second or two before letting them slip back shut again, but he doesn’t struggle. He lets Totsuka fuck his mouth as roughly as he wants, let Totsuka push-pull him any way he pleases. His compliance makes Totsuka hotter and drives him crazy at the same time, still blackly curious how far he can push Hashimoto.

He pushes Hashimoto back with a sudden shove, his mouth slipping off Totsuka’s cock with a wet pop before he lands on his ass in the middle of Totsuka’s bed. He looks up at Totsuka in question but doesn’t say anything, just waits for Totsuka’s next order, blankets and sheets already disheveled around him. Both of them are breathing hard, Hashimoto’s breaths with a hint of rasp at the end.

Totsuka has a quick debate with himself about positioning as he reaches into his bedside drawer for the lubricant. “Up, against the pillows,” he decides, and when Hashimoto scrambles to comply, crawls onto the bed himself to settle in between Hashimoto’s spread legs. He gives Hashimoto’s inner thigh a casual slap as he pops the cap on the lube, leaving a satisfying red mark on the pale skin. “Wider.”

Hashimoto does as Totsuka says, reaching down to hook his hands under his knees, holding his legs as wide as he can, exposing himself totally to Totsuka.

“Not the best kept-kept secret in the Jimusho,” Totsuka comments caustically, reaching down to thumb the edge of Hashimoto’s hole, “but easy enough to see why you’re so popular.”

He doesn’t waste more time than he has to on the preliminaries, going from one to two fingers after only a couple seconds, and from two to three when Hashimoto’s barely started to push back against him. Hashimoto still doesn’t protest, just bites down on his lower lip and rocks against Totsuka’s fingers, obviously struggling to relax. As soon as Hashimoto starts to open up for him properly, Totsuka pulls his fingers out and wipes them on Hashimoto’s thigh.

“Should I have you face down?” Totsuka wonders out loud, watching Hashimoto’s face for his reaction. “I could get a better grip that way, but then again, I couldn’t watch you or hold you down properly, could I?”

Hashimoto doesn’t seem to have a preference either way, or at least he whines roughly the same way at either suggestion.

“Whatever Tottsu wants,” he begs. “Just hurry, I want you.”

You gonna cum in three seconds? Totsuka might ask under different circumstances, but Fujigaya’s lyrics popping into his head unbidden just remind Totsuka how they got here in the first place. It makes him want to grab Hashimoto’s wrists and squeeze until Hashimoto yelps, which makes the decision about which way to have Hashimoto easy after all.

He crawls up and over Hashimoto, lining up and pushing in without waiting to Hashimoto to catch up. Hashimoto makes a grab for Totsuka, but Totsuka gets ahold of his wrists and forces them back down just like he wanted to, heat zipping through his veins at the way Hashimoto struggles against his weight.

“You wanted it, didn’t you?” Totsuka asks, digging his knees into the bed and leaning down on Hashimoto’s wrists harder as he thrusts, working his way in deeper. Hashimoto’s still almost suffocatingly tight, much more than after the usual care that Totsuka takes, and the difference steals Totsuka’s breath. “Weren’t you just begging for it a second ago? Changed your mind? Decided I’m not worth having after all?”

“N-no,” Hashimoto insists, narrowing his eyes and drawing his own shaky breath. Totsuka can feel the flex of the tendons in Hashimoto’s wrist as Hashimoto fists his hands. “I want as m-much of Tottsu as there i-is,” he grunts around ragged breaths, words hitching with the force of Totsuka’s thrusts.

“You asked for it,” Totsuka growls, perfectly happy to give Hashimoto exactly that. He fucks Hashimoto fast and deep, the only sounds for the next few minutes the slap of their skin and Hashimoto’s quiet pants for air.

He tosses his head from side to side, hair a mess over the pillow and cheeks bright pink, eyes squeezed shut, but he never tells Totsuka to stop or slow down, not even when Totsuka leans in until Hashimoto is almost bent double. Hashimoto’s cock is curled tight and leaking against his stomach when Totsuka glances down, untouched since Totsuka’s hands are occupied keeping Hashimoto’s wrists pressed flat against the mattress.

“Want to come?” Totsuka asks, knowing full well that this is already the longest he’s ever fucked Hashimoto without letting him come, or close to it. Hashimoto nods jerkily, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. “What’s stopping you, then?”

Hashimoto’s eyes do pop open at that. “But…”

“Can’t do it without being touched?” Totsuka asks, voice low and dangerous; Hashimoto whines piteously in response. “What happened to all that talk about being able to figure it all out if it’s for me? I’m asking, aren’t I? Can you manage even that much?”

Totsuka doesn’t expect at all for Hashimoto’s face to turn stubborn in response.

“If Tottsu wants it,” Hashimoto pants, jaw set, “then I can do it.”

“Lets see it then,” Totsuka demands, “if you’re so clever.”

It’s not something Hashimoto can manage, at least in Totsuka’s experience. Not that it stops him from asking for it, and it feels pretty damned good to be the one making the impossible demands for once. It would definitely be over by now if he so much as touched Hashimoto, so Totsuka is more than happy enough to let Hashimoto struggle all he wants while Totsuka takes him as roughly as he pleases.

He’s figuring Hashimoto will give it up and start begging any second, which he might or might not give in to, eventually, but Hashimoto’s determined expression doesn’t waver. He’s worth looking at, at least, hair sticking to his forehead in sweaty curls, skin flushed, mouth open.

Oh,” he gasps suddenly, making Totsuka blink in surprise, and then he’s moving against Totsuka with purpose, hips jerking hard up into Totsuka’s. Hashimoto manages a low, desperate whine before his spine arches and he’s coming between them in hot pulses.

“Fuck,” Totsuka says in surprise, rhythm stuttering as he’s distracted by the way Hashimoto jerks underneath him and then finally goes limp. “How the hell did you do that?”

Hashimoto laughs, although it’s breathless and hoarse. He blinks his eyes open just enough to give Totsuka a shaky smile. “You told me to,” he says, like that’s the whole explanation. “Aren’t you gonna come?”

“Had enough?” Totsuka asks, picking up his rhythm where he left off. Hashimoto is limp and relaxed underneath him, so he chances letting go of Hashimoto’s wrists to grab his hips instead, yanking Hashimoto into his thrusts.

Hashimoto stays right where he is, aside from shrugging a shoulder. “Just like watching it. C’mon, Tottsu should come too.”

Totsuka wants to argue, but he’s past even his limit at this point, so when Hashimoto squeezes tight around him and murmurs his name again, Totsuka gives in. It feels like all of his energy rushes out along with his orgasm, his arms giving out and dumping him in a sprawl on top of Hashimoto.

“Mmm,” Hashimoto hums, sounding perfectly satisfied with the situation. “Can I move my hands now?”

Totsuka just grunts, lacking the will to move or think. It isn’t just his energy that’s gone, it’s everything, the anger and the frustration and the loneliness. He feels wrung out and hollow, like he doesn’t have much of anything left inside him.

Then Hashimoto’s hands are suddenly on Totsuka’s back, warm and gentle, and something about it, about Hashimoto soothing him after letting Totsuka use him like that, makes Totsuka’s throat close up, and he has to close his eyes against the sudden sting of tears. It hits Totsuka suddenly, now that his anger has burned off, how much this has been the worst day ever, how on top of everything else it’s not Kisumai he can stay angry with, not Kitayama or Fujigaya or even Ft2, it’s them for not being good enough, it’s himself for getting his hopes up, again, even though he knows so much better.

The first sob is a surprise, but after it escapes, Totsuka lacks any energy to hold the rest of them back any longer.

“Finally, ne,” Hashimoto says, hands pressing more tightly against Totsuka’s skin. Thankfully he doesn’t say anything else, just lets Totsuka bury his face against Hashimoto’s chest and sob himself out. He holds Totsuka close, one hand coming up to stroke Totsuka’s hair out of the way.

Eventually Totsuka goes still and quiet, eyes sore and throat raw, and in desperate need of a lot of tissues. Not that he’s the only one.

“Feel better?” Hashimoto asks, the hand in Totsuka’s hair scrunching it gently.

“No,” Totsuka sighs, reaching up to rub at his forehead where he’s given himself the start of a headache. “I don’t know. It hurts.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about it,” Hashimoto offers. “The thing.”

“Are you?” Totsuka wonders vaguely. Hashimoto had been the only one of them who’d managed to congratulate them properly after all.

“Hm, well,” Hashimoto admits, “I’m happy Kisumai got to keep each other, and I’m glad we get to keep each other too. ‘Cause Tottsu would definitely get taken if they broke us up, so…being left behind, it sucks.”

A ray of clarity breaks through Totsuka’s haze of exhaustion and upset, reminding him that last time they had a big unit shake-up, that’s exactly what had happened to Hashimoto. It’s not the same, from where Totsuka’s sitting, but it does let a little guilt creep in, for letting himself get carried away, for how miserable Hashimoto will undoubtedly be tomorrow during practice, and then for dripping all over Hashimoto besides.

Totsuka pushes himself up, various parts of him coming unstuck from Hashimoto less than pleasantly, and reaches blindly for the box of tissues beside his bed. After he’s blown his nose and scrubbed his eyes a little, he can at least see Hashimoto clearly when he looks up.

He can definitely see the great big mark he’s left on Hashimoto’s neck.

“Oh dear.” Totsuka reaches down to stroke fingers over the mark; Hashimoto’s eyes flutter at the touch. “You shouldn’t let me do things like that to you. You shouldn’t let anybody.”

“I wouldn’t let anybody,” Hashimoto assures, like that makes it okay. He moves gingerly when he sits up and reaches for some tissues too, but his expression is stern when he catches Totsuka’s gaze. “Stoppit. It’s okay even for Totsuka to be selfish.”

“You shouldn’t let me—” Totsuka starts, but he cuts off when Hashimoto yanks him close and squeezes the air out of his lungs.

“Today, it’s definitely fine,” he says. After a beat, he adds. “Right? Or do I have to start all over?”

“Oh fuck,” Totsuka groans and laughs at the same time, feeling every single second of today heavy on his limbs and inside his skull. “Please let’s not.”

Hashimoto grunts, a clear That’s what I thought, but he does let Totsuka try and clean up the both of them as best he can with just tissues, his expression saying that he’s only being indulgent since it’s Totsuka. Either one of them crawling the distance to the bathroom is obviously out. Hashimoto isn’t the patient sort, though; after a couple minutes he plucks the tissues out of Totsuka’s hands and forcibly drags him back down to the mattress.

Even tucked safe and warm against Hashimoto, aching with exhaustion, Totsuka still isn’t terribly sleepy. There’s not much to stare at with the light off, but Totsuka watches the darkness anyway, feeling the steady rise and fall of Hashimoto’s chest against his back.

“Think the others are still out?” he asks eventually, not sure whether Hashimoto’s awake or if he’s talking to himself. “We did just leave them without saying anything,” he adds, feeling a trace of guilt for that, too.

He could check his messages, assuming Hashimoto would let go of him long enough to locate his pants. But then again, even if there are some mails from the rest of their unit, there’s just as likely a slew of messages that Totsuka has no wish to deal with at the moment, and a few he really ought to send besides. He can’t be bothered.

“Tottsu first,” Hashimoto slurs, plainly more than half asleep already, and Totsuka feels a pang of intense envy for Hashimoto’s ability to drop off so quickly. “The rest after.”

“Think you can fix everything yourself, do you?” Totsuka wonders, amused and exasperated and affectionate all at once, like usual. A Hashimoto is a complicated pet, Totsuka is constantly reminded.

But a loyal one, at that.

“A’course,” Hashimoto sighs, going somehow even more boneless against Totsuka’s back. His arm is warm and tight around Totsuka’s chest, like it’s holding him down to earth in case his gravity turns off suddenly. “I’m your Z. ‘Sides, who else is there?”

Totsuka presses his lips together and wraps his hand over the back of Hashimoto’s to squeeze rather than say out loud. No one, they both know is the answer. They’ll be on their own from now on. Not that anybody in Johnny’s is really alone, exactly, with the Snowmen and the Kanjuu and the Taiga Team all underfoot, but in some ways, the most important ones, this road that they’ve been walking together for so long, A.B.C.-Z will have to keep traveling it by themselves.

“Endless road,” Totsuka says out loud. Hashimoto mumbles a “Wha?” against Totsuka’s shoulder, and Totsuka shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Go to sleep.”

Eventually, Totsuka manages to follow his own advice.

The next morning, the chirp of the phone alarm is the second least welcome sound Totsuka has ever heard. It’s not his, and he groans for Hashimoto to get it when it doesn’t stop after a minute or two.

Hashimoto doesn’t even stir, facedown in the pillow, dead to the world. With a sigh, Totsuka sits up, wincing at the stiffness of his neck and shoulders, and starts to hunt around for the source of the noise.

“You’re a lot of trouble,” he grumbles as drags some clothing around with his toes, not that Hashimoto seems to hear. “Despite your cuteness.” The phone falls out of his jacket pocket with a clatter. “Aha, there you are.”

Bending to retrieve the phone makes Totsuka’s head pound, and it’s a relief when he manages to turn off the alarm (which, by the way, had been Goseki’s voice telling them to him to do something in English that Totsuka bets they’ll be having a meeting about later). He should dig up his own phone to check for messages, but it’s far too much work when Hashimoto’s phone is already in his hand, and the only people he really wants to talk to will have mailed Hashimoto as well.

Settling back against the pillows as he skims Hashimoto’s mails, Totsuka raises an eyebrow when the most recent read mail is from Kitayama, and is dated the night before. When he opens it, it only reads Thank you.

“I see,” Totsuka murmurs. “You, huh?” He isn’t sure himself whether he means Kitayama or Hashimoto, or both, but he turns his head when Hashimoto stirs beside him.

“Morning, Tottsu,” Hashimoto says, voice sleep-rough and face turned just enough to the side on the pillow to blink up at Totsuka blearily. A second later, a fuzzy sort of panic crosses Hashimoto’s features. “It’s not time to leave bed, is it?”

“Not yet,” Totsuka answers, then warns, “but soon,” when Hashimoto heaves a sigh of relief and his eyes flutter shut.

“Not yet,” Hashimoto repeats, muffled. He picks up an arm to flop across Totsuka’s stomach and hitches himself a little closer. The he surprises Totsuka by adding, “Don’t use all my battery like Fumikyun, ‘kay? But tell Kitayama-kun you’re okay.”

Aha. “Because you promised?” Totsuka asks, sure of the answer already. He feels like he ought to be offended at being handed off like a relay baton, but the blankness from last night is still lingering. It makes the hurt harder to feel, far enough off that before it can really get started, Totsuka’s already seen that they’re both trying to do the best they can for him.

“I already promised,” Hashimoto answers, arm curling more tightly around Totsuka. “I keep saying, geez. It’s not like I can promise more than promising. If it’s for Tottsu, I can fix it.”

“Idiot,” Totsuka says with affection. “Amazing idiot.” Hashimoto grunts his agreement. And it’s really Totsuka who’s the idiot, because after everything he still can’t quite squash the flicker of hope that maybe Hashimoto can get his way, like he always does somehow, even in this.

Totsuka still isn’t feeling up to facing the day, but if he can hide here a little longer, safe in his bed, Hashimoto warm and protective against him, then maybe he can manage to do at least the most important thing. He can do it honestly, even, from his heart.

From: the_best_ryosuke@docomo.ne.jp
To: pocky_1111@i.softbank.jp

[It’s Shota. Congratulations.]

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