Kis-My-Ft2, Foxfire

Title: Foxfire [Tamamori/Miyata, Tamamori/Fujigaya]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Love or like can be so complicated.
Notes: Written for 2012 Kis-My-Fic2 exchange, for miquilis, who wanted complicated relationships, things working out as best they can in the end, and Tama/Taipi, none of which I usually write, so I hope you enjoy this in the end. Title and summary from Kisumai’s “Hair.”

Remixed by Rikikomori here for JE Remix 2013.

ETA about that: so I have always always thought Fujigaya’s rap in “Hair” says “Can you be my foxfire?”, hence the title, but when it was already posted and too late, Rachel pointed out that he does not at all say that. I blame Taipi. And his stupid “Think u x” foxtail.


They don’t get to bed until late the night the photobook is announced, lingering at the meeting with all the details, exchanging mails with the other members the whole way home, and then answering Miyata-san’s thousand and one questions about exactly how prince-type they can make Miyata look in swimming trunks.

“Zero percent prince-type,” is Tamamori’s assessment as they collapse into Miyata’s bed. Miyata just rolls his eyes; he holds out an arm and Tamamori rolls onto it, enjoying Miyata’s freely-offered warmth as usual.

“Too many princes spoil the broth,” Miyata says.

“That’s cooks, idiot.”

“Spoil the kingdom?” Miyata muses. “The castle? The skating, in your case, maybe.”

“Jerk!” Tamamori pinches Miyata’s waist. Miyata tugs him close enough to kiss his forehead. Mollified, Tamamori only adds, “My skating is just fine.” Now, he finishes mentally, but Miyata doesn’t need to hear all that.

Miyata doesn’t say anything else for a long while, and Tamamori wonders if he’s fallen asleep. He’s thinking about suggesting that they celebrate, just the two of them…but it would mean a lot of effort, and Tamamori is so comfortable where he is.

Closeness is all he wants at the moment, Tamamori decides, leaning just a little more heavily against Miyata. Just because they’re together, that doesn’t mean they have to do it every single time.

“Doesn’t seem like you have any objections,” he murmurs to Miyata. All he gets in return is Miyata’s slow and even breathing. Tamamori figures that’s answer enough.


In their hotel room, Tamamori is shaking out some clothing that got wrinkled in his luggage when Fujigaya breaks the silence with his usual subtlety.

“So why aren’t you and Miyacchi throwing a big tantrum like Nika and Ken-chan?” Fujigaya is staring at Tamamori when Tamamori looks up, bangs pinned up with a ridiculous star-shaped clip. “Because you two can’t do anything gross in here.”

“Because neither one of us is terrified of bugs and ghosts and being alone and everything? We can last a couple days, geez.” Tamamori turns his attention back to his clothes. “We’re not perverts.” Tamamori pauses. “At least one of us isn’t.”

“Really?” Fujigaya sounds skeptical. “The sun, the water, tropical paradise, fruity drinks with two twirly straws, and you’re telling me you won’t get into the mood even a little? Reeeeally?”

Tamamori shakes his head. “We’re not like that.” The mental image of Miyata on the beach jogging towards him in slow motion, hair being tousled by the wind…it’s more than a little ridiculous, and not that appealing, truthfully. And they don’t like the same flavor fruity drinks. “Anyway, it’s work, there’s staff and cameras all over.”

“Boring!” Fujigaya announces, flopping across his bed dramatically. “What’s the point of having a scandalous youthful affair if you don’t even sneak off to do it on the beach?”

“You do it on the beach,” Tamamori retorts. “That’s too much sand.” Honestly, having had sand wedged in all kinds of places from surfing, Tamamori can’t see the idea as being anything but inconvenient and most likely uncomfortable. “Ick.”

“I totally would if any of you idiots were worth doing it with. You’re only young once!” Fujigaya rolls onto his stomach, kicking his feet in the air. “What if Miyacchi wants to? Would you then? Hey, you better find out, ’cause what if you turn him down and then he finds somebody else to fulfill his fantasies? And he’s rooming with Kitamitsu, that sounds just like something that tiny pervert would do.”

“Stop trying to cause trouble,” Tamamori orders, giving Fujigaya a stern glare. “He wouldn’t do anything like that.”

And Tamamori knows Fujigaya just likes to cause conflict for his own entertainment, but he does it so well, and Tamamori can’t keep some of what he said from sticking with him as they’re at dinner. Stop it, he tells himself when he catches himself watching Kitayama and Miyata just a little too closely, when the pair of them laughing over something that’s already happened in their room makes his chest feel a little tight.

He does his best to forget about it, knowing he’s being ridiculous, to enjoy the meal and the attention and the time they’re spending together.

“Hey,” Miyata says as they’re leaving, slipping his hand into Tamamori’s and tugging him to the back of the group. “Something up? You looked funny a couple times.”

“No, I’m fine.” Then, without permission from his brain, Tamamori’s mouth blurts, “You wouldn’t do it with Kitamitsu on the beach even if he asked, right?”

Miyata bursts out laughing, doesn’t get mad or call Tamamori weird, just laughs, squeezing Tamamori’s hand. “On the beach? With all the sand?”

“That’s what I said!” Tamamori insists, the knot in his chest dissolving to nothing. Of course Miyata wouldn’t do any such thing. “Ne, you don’t want to at all, right?”

“With Kitamitsu?” Miyata’s eyes are sparkling a little, and Tamamori can see right through Miyata’s fake expression of mild confusion. “Or with you?” Tamamori gives him a sharp look, and Miyata laughs again, squeezing Tamamori’s hand a little tighter before letting go. They start following the others so they don’t get left behind. “I’m sorry we can’t room together. That’s what it’s about, right?”

“It’s not your fault.” Tamamori heaves a sigh because Miyata can see through him so easily, Fujigaya is such a trouble-maker, and because up ahead Nikaido and Senga are still singing that stupid coffee song and Tamamori is going to have it stuck in his head for a month. “Taipi was talking about you and Kitamitsu, but it was just to hear himself talk, I think.”

“Mm,” Miyata agrees, letting their arms brush a little as they walk, “or maybe he’s jealous.”

“Of us? Fat chance,” Tamamori laughs a little. It’s a relief to have such a sensible boyfriend, even if that does make things a little boring.


It isn’t something Tamamori thinks about so much, because things are just the way they’ve always been, but as often as he and Miyata spend the night at each other’s places over the winter, when he thinks about it he can count the number of times he’s gotten to C on both hands and have fingers left over.

It turns out he’s not the only one thinking about it.

“Tama?” Miyata says after they’ve been in bed a little while. Tamamori hums a little, not asleep but not totally awake either. “Are you asleep?”

“No.” Tamamori opens his eyes to find Miyata propped up on an elbow, looking down at him. His expression isn’t worried exactly, but it’s not Miyata’s usual grin either. “What’s wrong?”

“Are we okay?” Miyata asks.

A cold finger of anxiety skates up Tamamori’s spine, waking him up all the way. “Aren’t we?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” Miyata flounders a second, then seems to make up his mind to go ahead, “I don’t think we’ve had sex more than three times this whole winter.”

“It hasn’t been just three, has it?” Tamamori squirms, thinking back and realizing that it may not even be three. They get off next to each other sometimes, or help each other out a little, but it’s hardly different than what Tamamori does at home alone to help himself sleep faster. He isn’t counting those times, and it doesn’t seem like Miyata is either. “Do you want to? Now?”

“Not particularly,” Miyata admits.

The ball of anxiety in Tamamori’s stomach knots a little tighter. “Do you want to do it more in general?”

“Not particularly,” Miyata says more quietly, voice glum. “That’s what worries me. It’s not that I don’t want to do it!” Miyata rushes to add. “I just…you know, I don’t want, most of the time. I don’t ever, like, need right now. Do you?”

Tamamori wants to say yes, but he shakes his head because he feels the same way. For a long moment they just stare at each other. The longer they do, the more Tamamori’s anxiety grows, threatening to crawl out of his chest and into his throat.

“Come here,” Miyata says finally, pulling Tamamori into his arms. Tamamori wraps his own arms around Miyata’s chest and squeezes him tightly.

“You don’t want to break up, right?” Tamamori asks, face buried in Miyata’s chest and scared to hear the answer. The idea of not being close to Miyata anymore, of losing him as a best friend after all these years, is too terrifying for Tamamori to get any more words out.

“No,” Miyata reassures, holding onto Tamamori just as tightly, “no, for sure, no. But we should feel like that a little right? Shouldn’t we want to if we can?”

Tamamori doesn’t answer, lump still stuck in his throat; he just presses his face against Miyata’s chest harder. Miyata doesn’t press him, letting Tamamori cling as tightly as he wants until his panic ebbs.

“I’m sorry,” Miyata does finally say, and Tamamori feels Miyata’s fingers work into his hair, gentle against his scalp. “But if we don’t talk about things like that, it’ll turn into something big, right?”

“It’s okay,” Tamamori says quietly. He doesn’t want Miyata to feel like they can’t talk about something, and he’d definitely prefer that Miyata talks to him instead of anybody else about it. He can feel his face heating up just thinking about it, but he thinks he ought to say something about the situation. “It’s…I want to be close to you, mostly. Whether we’re doing that or not, doesn’t matter so much?”

“Just this much is fine?” Miyata asks. Tamamori nods. “Me too. I guess since we’ve been friends so long, it’s not like heart-pounding first love or anything, but…okay, if it’s fine with Tama-chan, then I won’t worry.”

After a little while Tamamori asks if Miyata does want to do it, and they both laugh when Miyata admits that he still doesn’t particularly. They try anyway, and it’s probably the most awkward sex they’ve had since the first time they’d ever tried it, but it feels like an apology and a promise to try harder from both of them. Miyata holds Tamamori tightly the whole time, and Tamamori is satisfied with that.

A week later, Miyata tumbles Tamamori into bed and takes thorough advantage of him for no reason at all, and Tamamori stops thinking about it so much. Even if it’s weird sometimes, that’s just between the two of them, Tamamori thinks, so it’s fine.


“Drama lead!” Miyata squeals like a 14-year-old girl, and he (plus Tamamori’s mother plus his own mother) are way, way more excited about it than Tamamori is. Tamamori doesn’t feel much excitement at all, actually; mostly he feels pressured and scared and self-conscious and like nobody can possibly learn all these lines holy shit.

“Stop freaking out!” Fujigaya snaps, half-kidding but really kind of not. He thwaps Tamamori’s shoulder with his own script and Tamamori feels uncomfortably like he’s a gawky junior again, getting lectured about skating like shit from Fujigaya-senpai-I-mean-kun.

“He’s going to torment me the whole time,” Tamamori hisses at Miyata when Fujigaya’s attention is distracted by Kitayama and their updated schedules and Duet trying to sneak in nipple shots again or whatever. “There won’t be any of you there to distract him, I’ll be his only target!”

“Hikaru will be there too,” Miyata reminds. “And you’ll probably film apart a lot. Give him a break, huh?”

“Give him a—”

“You know he’s hurt he isn’t romantic lead and too proud to admit it,” Miyata says, and there’s no fighting against how well Miyata knows all their members. “Plus they’re making him cut his hair. They might as well strip him naked for the cover of our debut single.”

Tamamori has to admit, Miyata has a good point. In Fujigaya’s world, he’s pretty much getting punched in the face. In public. Filmed for television weekly. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “I guess he might be nervous and stuff too.” He eyes Miyata. “But our group ai is pretty fucked up, just so you know.”

“Sometimes group ai is letting Fujigaya abuse you,” Miyata agrees sagely. “It’s for the common good, Tama-chan. Maaaa,” Miyata heaves a tragic sigh, “I’m going to miss you!”

“Idiot, I’ll have my phone, you can always mail.” Truthfully Tamamori is most nervous about having so much responsibility without the other members right there to back him up, afraid he’s going to make a complete fool of himself and drag the group down with him right at their critical moment. “Ne, Miyacchi…”

He cuts off with a squawk when Miyata leans over and kisses him noisily on the forehead.

“Don’t wrinkle that,” Miyata orders, “you need it. Just do your best. If Manager-san thinks you can do it, then trust him.”

“I’ll try,” Tamamori promises, and if they never do get a proper celebration date night in, it’s only because Tamamori is swamped with promos and script work and vocal lessons.


“GAYAAA!” Tamamori roars when he hears the opening lines of his Playzone solo drift in from the hallway, and when he bolts from the dressing room, sure enough there Fujigaya is in the midst of their co-stars, laughing himself sick. It makes Tamamori cringe to hear his voice from back then when he’s supposed to be angel-voiced Ren right now, in front of Takemoto-san and everything! But he hangs on to his temper with both hands and just shouts over the music for Fujigaya to cut it out right now!

“Aw, you’re no fun anymore,” Fujigaya complains, still giggling to himself as he complies, joke over. “Three years ago you would have cried, for sure.”

“That’s almost like a compliment!” Hikaru laughs, easing the rest of the tension and nudging Takemoto with an elbow when she looks unsure if this joke is really okay or not. “What he’s trying to say is that you’ve grown up a lot the last few years, right?”

“Sure,” Fujigaya shrugs, and if he doesn’t exactly agree, he doesn’t argue either. That really is almost like a compliment, from him.

Bearing the brunt of Fujigaya’s attention, especially a nerve-wracked and sleepless Fujigaya, is every bit as bothersome as Tamamori had feared, but he realizes after a bit that it’s the same for Fujigaya, that Tamamori is the only one it’s safe to torment. They have no choice, really, but to talk to each other when they have concerns or need help. Hikaru’s there, it’s true, and the rest of the cast is great, but they aren’t gearing up for tour and debut as well as filming. They aren’t Kisumai.

Tamamori is practicing by himself before A.N.JELL’s first fake live, singing the same lines over and over with a determination bordering on panic, when Fujigaya coughs behind him and nearly scares Tamamori out of his skin.

“Gaya!” he shrieks, pressing a hand against his chest like it’ll keep his pounding heart inside it.

“Stop that,” Fujigaya orders, voice brusque, but his eyes cut to the side. “It’s good enough already.”

“You think so?” Tamamori asks, really asks. Sure Fujigaya has been tormenting him like a champion senpai practically since they met, but he knows what he’s talking about and doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to pointing out flaws in either their vocals or their dance. If Fujigaya says it’s good enough, it means something.

“Yeah, it’s good.” Fujigaya’s eyes meet Tamamori’s for half a breath before he looks away again. “Anyway, let’s go. You’ll tear up your throat and sound like shit if you keep doing that.”

“Mm.” They aren’t the kind of friends that say things like it, but Tamamori is glad Fujigaya came even that close to saying he’s proud of Tamamori’s progress. He falls into step behind Fujigaya and thanks him silently in his heart, because they aren’t the kind of friends who say that stuff either.

And it’s funny, because when they hear the studio version the first time, Fujigaya is the one who gets the angriest over it.

“What was even the point of making you take all the lessons?!” he roars when he and Tamamori are in a van coincidentally, only the driver to overhear. “Why would they make me the fucking lead vocal when I’m not fucking lead vocal, you’re lead fucking vocal! If they wanted me to do it they should have hired me to do it instead of hiring you to do it and then not letting you fucking do it!”

Tamamori doesn’t try to interrupt Fujigaya’s rant, first of all because it’s useless to try getting a word in edgewise, and secondly because he actually is rather stung by it and doesn’t want to talk about it exactly. Also he feels too exhausted to expend any energy on even a well-deserved fit of pique.

“Why aren’t you as pissed off as me?!” Fujigaya finally demands. “Get angrier!”

“Why are you so angry?” Tamamori deflects. He slumps deeper into his seat, wishing he could get out Fujigaya’s line of fire.

“Because you did exactly what they asked you to, really well even, and it wasn’t enough! No matter what you did it was never going to be enough, so what was the point of it?!” Fujigaya makes a noise of wordless frustration. “We don’t have time for this kind of useless bullshit, we’re supposed to be filming and doing concert prep and we’re missing all the rehearsals just so in the end they can make it sound exactly the same as it always fucking sounds—”

“Please stop shouting at me, okay?” Tamamori interrupts, concerned he might actually start to cry and then he’ll be right back in 2009 where he started all over again. Once was enough.

“I’M NOT—” Fujigaya catches himself and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m not shouting at you, I’m just shouting…you know, around you.”

“It doesn’t do any good though,” Tamamori points out, “it’s just making my head hurt. I am upset, but…” Tamamori gropes for words for a few seconds, then shrugs. “I’m not good enough yet, for them.”

“Except you totally are, they just won’t. Fucking. Listen!” Fujigaya drops his head into his hands, looking like he might cry himself. “They never fucking listen. They’re putting you in ‘Rockin’ Party.'”

Tamamori freezes. “What?”

“Kitayama mailed. I think they’re re-splitting lines.” Fujigaya gives a mirthless laugh. “We’ll have to do the choreo all over and, oh yeah, neither of us can make a single rehearsal until concert weekend. Also some shit is going on with the setlist, that…” Fujigaya waves a hand in the air vaguely.

“Shit.” Tamamori feels like he has no other words left in him. Instead he presses his shoulder into Fujigaya’s a little harder, wanting comfort but knowing the rules about touching Fujigaya first.

“Is it just me,” when Fujigaya lifts his head, his eyes are indeed a bit bloodshot, “or does our debut suck?”

Tamamori has no idea what to say to that, not coming from Fujigaya who has been fighting tooth and nail to debut since he was about eleven. Forgetting about the touching rules for the moment, Tamamori leans his head against Fujigaya’s shoulder. It takes a couple more miles for him to put together anything he thinks is worth saying.

“We’re together?” he says, the pause long enough that Fujigaya gives him an “Eh?” Tamamori tries again. “For debut, we’re together at least. They won’t take you and Kitamitsu away, or Senga.”

“Or you?” Fujigaya asks, and Tamamori blinks. Why would they take him?

He just shrugs. “I don’t mind so much about the stuff they keep doing to us now, because now it’s just another step. And even if they do a bunch of other stupid stuff at this concert, I’d rather have the worst debut ever with Kisumai than with anybody else.”

“Tama-chan,” Fujigaya murmurs.

Tamamori fidgets and drops his eyes to floor, flustered. Why’d he say all that, and to Fujigaya too? It’s true but…embarrassing, Tamamori thinks, cheeks getting warm. There’s half a chance that Fujigaya was recording him with his phone so that he can torment Tamamori with it until he dies.

“I’m glad too,” Fujigaya says, and when Tamamori looks up Fujigaya is staring out the window, clearly embarrassed himself. “That it’s Kisumai. That I’m not alone.”

Then his phone chimes, interrupting them, a mail from Yokoo about giant goblets and “Wakamonotachi” and Fujigaya says forget it, he’s changed his mind and is going to demand to get stuck in A.B.C-Z instead where at least they’ll kill him quickly with wires.


Sometime during first run-through at Hokkaido, the pressure gets to Nikaido and he confesses to Senga right in the middle of Senga’s solo, holding the stupid glowing ball and everything (well, it will glow, once the tech board does the fixes). Tamamori is under the stage with Kitayama and Fujigaya waiting for their cue, so they don’t know anything about it, besides the fact that there’s a delay, until later.

“It was awesome,” Miyata explains to Tamamori during next break. “A proper confession, finally! Also Senga’s mic was on so he definitely can’t take it back, ’cause the whole arena heard him say yes.”

“Nika’s wasn’t right?” Tamamori demands in alarm. Miyata shakes his head, laughing.

Yokoo next to them looks bemused, and off to the side Nikaido and Senga is getting the tongue-lashing of a lifetime from Fujigaya, Kitayama eyeing them sternly. It’s never going to end, because the idiot combi are both grinning from ear-to-ear, Senga still looking glossy-eyed.

“It was like he couldn’t hold it back one more second,” Miyata says, looking proud of their brat. “The look on Nika-chan’s face, like…maa, you should have seen it.”

“I won’t forget it,” Yokoo chuckles.

“Like what?” Tamamori wants to know. “I miss everything good!”

“Like he was going to make Senga his no matter what.” Miyata’s eyes closed a second, like he was still picturing it. “Like he didn’t care if everybody heard, Senga was the only one that mattered. So cool!”

“Like an adult,” Yokoo agrees, not hiding his own pride very well. “Ah, that brat, what are we going to do with him?”

“Keep him,” Miyata says fiercely, making Yokoo laugh again and punch him in the shoulder. They seem closer, Tamamori realizes, and he wishes filming would just end already, because he really is missing everything good.

“Yeah.” Yokoo hollers over to the other group. “Oi, Taipi, give it up! They can’t hear a single thing you’re saying!”

It’s true; one look at Senga and Nikaido is enough to know that the only thing either one can see is each other. Eventually even Fujigaya gives it up, and when they spend the whole afternoon practice falling on their faces, Fujigaya growls that it’s only what they deserve.

After that, for the rest of the venue you can hardly go around a corner without stumbling over Nikaido and Senga, obviously interrupting even if the pair of them are fully clothed and five meters between them. It’s not that they aren’t being responsible, much as Fujigaya accuses them otherwise, it’s more that even just looking at them, it’s plain how they feel about each other.

“Like magnets,” Miyata says, tucked in bed next to Tamamori. “You can feel them pulling on each other.”

There’s a badly muffled groan from the wall they are unfortunately sharing with Nikaido and Senga.

“Hear it too,” Miyata laughs. Tamamori just groans and rolls over to bury his face in his pillow. He’s been sleeping every spare second that he can, since as soon as they’re off the plane in Tokyo he goes right back to filming. If Miyata minds, he never shows it, and Tamamori feels Miyata’s hand gentle on the back of his head as he falls asleep.

He wakes a few hours later, sleep schedule all a mess, to find Miyata with a book on his chest, but watching Tamamori thoughtfully.

“Hn?” he asks, not sure he won’t fall right back asleep in the middle of Miyata’s answer.

“I was just thinking,” Miyata’s voice is soft enough that Tamamori has to listen carefully, “that Nika and Ken-chan have been best friends a long time too.”

“Yeah?” Tamamori yawns, wincing when his jaw cracks.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Miyata sets his book aside and flips out the light, then settles under the blankets next to Tamamori. “We can talk later. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay.” Tamamori’s mostly unconscious even as he breathes the word, Miyata rubbing warm, soothing circles on his back.


“Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t slept in three days,” Fujigaya says, “but you are actually starting to seem less weird.”

“Shu rubbing off on you?” Tamamori suggests, then bursts into unstoppable giggles at the idea of a kind and sweet Fujigaya singing shy, sweet ballad solos to his trashy fangirls.

“Never mind.” Fujigaya narrows his eyes. “False alarm.”

It’s necessarily true, though, given how much time they’ve spent together in the last six weeks and the pressure involved, that the two of them have grown closer. Fujigaya isnt any less annoying, exactly, and Tamamori doubts he is any less weird, but it feels like the two of them are more in synch, somehow. The other members comment on it too, some more directly than others.

“It’s a nice change,” Kitayama says during a vocal practice they actually manage to attend (mostly because Tamamori’s vocal was just before). “It’s good to see the two of you getting along. Not that you didn’t well enough before, but.” Kitayama pauses to think his words through. “It’s good if we start building connections between each one of us.”

“Can’t you like each other a little less though?” Senga complains, huffing a sigh. “Now he won’t stop picking on me!”

Tamamori goes about his business, pleased with that, and when they’re waiting around for second show start in Yokohama, Fujigaya wants to know what he’s grinning about like a weirdo.

“Your stupid hat,” Tamamori says easily, grinning at Fujigaya’s giant, yellow cowboy hat.

Your stupid hat,” Fujigaya retorts, reaching over to give Tamamori’s pink feathers a yank and knocking his crown askew. Tamamori sticks his tongue out and straightens it back up, tossing his feathers back over his shoulder.

“You’re just pissed because my feathers look totally badass streaming behind me when I’m skating,” Tamamori says, giving Fujigaya enough of a shove that they both roll a centimeter or two.

“Oh, Tama-chan,” Fujigaya says sadly. “You make it so easy it’s not even worth it.”

You’re so easy—

“Watta!” Senga hisses, off to the side, tugging on Yokoo’s sleeve. “If they mess up their costumes we’ll get yelled at again!”

“You’d know about that,” Nikaido snorts, orbiting Senga like usual.

“Shh, they’re getting along,” Yokoo hushes him. Senga and Nikaido exchange skeptical looks, and then the whole thing is interrupted by Kitayama and Miyata calling for their pre-show circle.

“It’s funny to see you two get along,” Miyata laughs afterwards.

Tamamori shrugs. “He isn’t such a jerk all the time, not like before.”

“Yeah, he is.” Miyata’s grin dims to a strange smile for a second. “Fujigaya didn’t change at all, it’s you who got stronger.”

“I did not?” Tamamori asks. “What?”

Then the lights go down and the music comes up and Tamamori doesn’t get an answer, forgetting all about it in the rush of adrenaline and fangirls screaming his name. When they catch eyes, Miyata’s grin is back, but Tamamori’s mind flashes back to the strange smile Miyata had given him just for that one moment.

Every time he and Fujigaya pass each other on the walkways, they reach out to pull at each other.


One minute everything is normal, the two of them changing quickly in the cramped space of the van so fangirls can’t see them naked (Fujigaya wonders out loud which parts of him fangirls haven’t even seen, Tamamori postulates about two square centimeters of skin for all of Ebikisu combined, damn A.B.C. and their Z for bringing down the average), and the next minute Fujigaya has Tamamori pressed up against the window, their mouths fused together, Tamamori just in his tank top and Fujigaya’s shirt hanging stupidly from one arm.

Tamamori grabs Fujigaya’s waist, Fujigaya’s bare skin hot where his fingers are digging in, and Fujigaya has one hand on Tamamori’s neck and the other buried tight in his hair. Electricity is racing up and down Tamamori’s spine, and he can’t get close enough, can’t get enough air. Fujigaya’s tongue slides across his, and goosebumps rush over Tamamori’s arms.

Outside the van, there’s a burst of noise from the director’s megaphone, and they spring apart. Fujigaya’s hair is mussed and his lips are wet, a flush working its way down over his chest. Tamamori wonders if he looks anything like as good as that; when Fujigaya’s eyes darken he realizes he must look just like that.

“Shit,” Fujigaya says, “shit shit shit,” and then both of them yank on their clothes and flee the van as quickly as they can.

Tamamori doesn’t even know which of them started it.


“Oh nooo,” Senga says, before Tamamori even says hello, despite the half an hour he practiced looking nonchalant in the mirror this morning for when he had to see the other members this afternoon, the first time after ‘the incident.’ He’d asked Teto and everything just to make sure he looked completely normal!

“Stupid squirrel,” Tamamori grumbles. Senga just drags him a half-step closer and drops his voice to a whisper.

“Taipi?” Senga guesses, dead-on like usual, damn him. “He kissed you? Really?” Tamamori shuffles his feet. “You kissed him! Tama, this is serious!”

“I know, okay?!” Tamamori hisses back then his throat closes up and he just looks at Senga wretchedly.

“Come in here,” Senga drags him into a nearby ready room, unoccupied for the moment, “and tell me the whole thing. Quick, before Leader comes to yell at us.”

Tamamori does, and as awful as he feels, it is a little bit of a relief to let the whole story out. Senga listens without interruption, and at the end his expression is sympathetic.

“What are you gonna do?” Senga asks. “You’ll have to tell Miyacchi, definitely.”

“Yeah.” Tamamori knows he doesn’t have any hope of keeping any secret from Miyata, much less this one. Not that he was going to try, really, but…Tamamori imagines getting the words out in front of Miyata and has to swallow hard.

“You can do it.” Senga wraps an arm around Tamamori’s shoulders and squeezes him. “It’ll be worse if you don’t tell him right away.” Then, after a beat, “Damn, are you eating anything? Come on, let’s run to the combini quick. If we don’t get spotted we can just say we were late.”

“Thank you,” he makes sure to say properly when they’re out on the sidewalk, Senga’s mouth already full of curry bread. “And for listening.”

Senga’s smile is sweet and encouraging. “Sure. Hurry back, okay? Those drama people aren’t taking good enough care of our T!” And then he adds, more seriously. “It’ll be okay, I know it. Miyata loves you enough to forgive you anything.”

Tamamori picks at his onigiri, not sure how to say that actually, that’s exactly what he’s afraid will happen.

When they get back inside, it turns out that nobody cares at all that they were late, because Manager-san is just now returning with Kitayama and Miyata in tow.

“Tama!” Miyata calls from the whole way down the hall, and his huge grin just makes Tamamori’s stomach bunch up in even more knots. “C’mere!” he says, grabbing Tamamori’s arm as soon as he gets close and dragging him into the nearest empty ready room, ironically the same room Tamamori was in with Senga just earlier.

“I have to tell you something,” Miyata says, breathless.

“Me too,” Tamamori blurts. “I kissed Fujigaya.”

“I’m in…” Miyata’s words slow down as Tamamori’s confession sinks in, “…the Ikemen stage show…”

“Oh god,” Tamamori says faintly because of course, of fucking course that would be his timing. “A stage version?”

“With Kitamitsu.” Miyata is still blinking and Tamamori wants to kill himself more than a little. “Did you just say you kissed Fujigaya?”

Tamamori collapses into the nearest chair and drops his head into his hands. “Or he kissed me. Actually I’m not sure who kissed who.” He’s too scared to look up and see what happens next.

All that happens is that gentle hands push down on his shoulders.

“Let’s talk later, okay?” Miyata says. “We’ll ask Kitamitsu if we can crash at his apartment so we don’t have so far to go. I think he’s going to see his mom and give her the news after practice anyway. You have to be up for filming early, right?”

Tamamori nods, face still buried in his hands. “Miyacchi? I’m really sorry I spoiled your news.”

“It was supposed to be a secret anyway,” Miyata says, giving Tamamori’s shoulders another squeeze before letting go. “You can act surprised when we tell the others?”

It makes Tamamori laugh a little, even though it comes out more like a sob, but it’s enough that Tamamori finally does look up. Even if the way Miyata is looking down at him, like he probably would forgive Tamamori anything, just makes Tamamori want to let the ground swallow him whole.

“Come on,” Miyata offers him a hand up. “We have to get through practice first.”

Tamamori is not far removed from useless during practice, but thankfully Fujigaya isn’t doing much better in the energy department so it seems like a filming issue rather than that Tamamori is single-handedly destroying his own life one member at a time. Eventually Senga tells the choreographer and Kitayama that Tamamori wasn’t feeling well this morning and that’s why they were late. Tamamori tries to protest, but it’s half-hearted, and in the end they send him off to a pile of dance mats to rest while they finish up.

He doesn’t want to sleep, because that will just make his postponed conversation with Miyata come faster, but as soon as he’s curled up on the mats, he’s out cold, and he doesn’t know anything else until Miyata is shaking his shoulder gently and saying that they can go home.

The trip to Kitayama’s is quiet and awkward, even Miyata’s joke about Kitayama telling them not to throw all his dishes at each other falling flat between them.

“Did you tell him?” Tamamori asks. He doesn’t like the idea, worried that Kitayama will be disappointed in him for messing up their group.

Miyata shakes his head. “Did you tell anyone else?”

“No,” Tamamori hesitates, “well, not on purpose…”

“Senga?” Miyata guesses, then huffs a little laugh when Tamamori nods. “Yeah, he always sees stuff like that right away, doesn’t he? Hope Nika-chan knows better than to…” Miyata stops short, and neither of them says anything more until they’re safely inside Kitayama’s apartment.

Tamamori just stands in the middle of the living room with his coat still on, not sure whether he can even stay awake long enough for Miyata to break up with him or whatever.

“Give me that,” Miyata says with entirely fake exasperation, tugging Tamamori’s coat off. “Let’s get ready for bed first.”

“What if I fall asleep?” Tamamori asks, sort of resisting but not that hard as Miyata pushes him towards the bathroom. “In the middle of talking? Even before we talk?”

“Then we’ll finish in the morning,” Miyata assures. “Go on, shoo.”

They take turns in the shower quickly, Tamamori turning his to cold to wake up a little, but he regrets it immediately when he stumbles into the bedroom shivering and has to stop himself from crawling right into bed beside Miyata and curling up against him.

“Will you get in here already,” Miyata orders, and Tamamori does, feeling like a pretty terrible person.

“Quit being so nice to me,” Tamamori says. He tries to leave at least a couple inches between them, at least, no matter how tempting Miyata’s warmth is. He realizes immediately that he’s going to fall asleep right away if he’s horizontal, so he ends up sitting up instead, separating one of the blankets to wrap around his shoulders.

He tells the story over again, just the same way as he told Senga, and Miyata listens without interruption until Tamamori runs out of words. Then there’s a long pause.

“Did you like it?” Miyata asks. “What was it like?”

Tamamori squirms; he doesn’t want to talk about that with Miyata, and he doesn’t get why Miyata would want to hear about it either. But Miyata pressures him quietly until Tamamori gives in. “It…good.” He can still feel echoes of that electricity chasing over his skin when he thinks about it. “Not like. You know, different.”

Miyata sits up suddenly, on his knees, and leans over to press his lips to Tamamori’s. It’s nice, familiar, and nothing like that at all. Miyata sits back and eyes Tamamori. “Not like that?”

“No,” Tamamori answers truthfully.

“Better?” Miyata asks, which Tamamori refuses to answer, and Miyata nods like he knows anyway. “You know how I said, during Hokkaido, that Nika and Ken-chan have been best friends a long time too?”

Tamamori nods. He’s got a feeling he knows where this is going, but stubbornly refuses to play along.

“You saw, right?” Miyata says. “How different it was with them. When they got together, when they really did, everything changed. When I watch them, I think, how they feel about each other…we aren’t like that at all.”

“Do we have to be?” Tamamori demands. “Nisen is Nisen! We’re us!” His voice cracks and he takes a deep breath, trying to keep himself together. “Anyway, we already talked about this, didn’t we? Maybe I don’t want to fuck you senseless every waking moment—”

“Or ever,” Miyata interrupts gently.

Tamamori glares. “But you’re my best friend and I love you. I don’t want to break up.”

“I know.” Miyata turns to put his back against the wall alongside Tamamori’s, reaches down to lace their fingers together. “I love you too, more than anybody. But maybe that’s not the same thing as when Nika told Ken-chan that he loved him. Maybe that hasn’t got anything to do with you wanting Fujigaya, or anybody else.”

“What does that even mean?” Tamamori asks, exhausted and thrumming with nerves and terrified of losing Miyata forever. Miyata holds up their joined hands for Tamamori to see, Tamamori squeezing their fingers together so tightly their knuckles are white, like he can keep them together through sheer force of will. “Toshiya…”

“This is the part you like, right?” Miyata asks. He tugs his hand free and shushes Tamamori’s protest, wrapping his arm around Tamamori instead and pulling him close. “This? You said you wanted to be close, right? That’s what you’re afraid of losing. Maybe that’s just what we are, is what I’m saying. You’re my best friend in the whole world, just that.”

“Only that?” Tamamori asks, a little stung and not sure he likes this idea at all.

“Not only, just,” Miyata corrects. “Exactly that. I haven’t had any other ones and I don’t plan to. So what you kissed Fujigaya, you don’t want to spend every waking moment with him, right? You aren’t gonna spend every other night at his house? Want to room with him all tour?”

“Not…really. I honestly get enough of him at filming, right now,” Tamamori says, maybe seeing Miyata’s point a little. But he still doesn’t like it. “What about you? If I’m sleeping around with Fujigaya or A.B.C. or Yamapi-senpai, are you really going to be okay with that?”

“I don’t know,” Miyata admits, pulling his arm back and staring down at his hands in his lap. “But I know I love you enough to do anything for you, even this. Maybe it’ll be better even, for both of us, if we quit trying to make it something that it isn’t.”

There doesn’t seem to be anything to say after that.

“Lie down already,” Miyata says, getting back under the blankets and tugging Tamamori’s wrist until he does the same. “Try to get some sleep. I’m really sorry, you know, about doing this in the middle of filming. I wanted to wait, but…”

“I did it to myself,” Tamamori sighs glumly. He tries to settle a couple inches away, but Miyata just shifts closer, until Tamamori gives in and leans into Miyata’s warmth like usual. His limbs feel like lead and he’s going to have a pounding headache in the morning, he already knows.

“Maybe it’s for the best. You’ll be busy finishing filming, and then when you’re off I’ll be doing the stageplay. If we have some time to think things through properly on our own, it’ll turn out better in the end.”

Tamamori snorts, cheek resting against Miyata’s shoulder. “You know, having such a responsible boyfriend really sucks.”

Something brushes Tamamori’s hair, soft enough that he can’t tell whether it’s Miyata’s lips or his hand. Then Miyata flips the light off and both of them stare into the darkness, quiet except for the sound of their breathing.

Eventually Miyata asks, “Why was Yamapi-senpai on that list?”

“Toshiya.” Tamamori would roll his eyes if they were open.

“And when you said A.B.C., did you mean individually, or…”



The director praises Tamamori unexpectedly for really showing the manic energy Ren needs to emanate in the last few episodes.

“You’ve improved quite a bit,” he says, clapping Tamamori on the back. “It’s very believable. The scenes we have left are all very dramatic, so whatever you’re doing, keep up the good work!”

“Script-san, why is life so complicated?” Tamamori groans when he’s alone at lunch, head resting on his script on top of the table. “Why can’t you tell me what to do all the time?”

“What fun would that be?” Hikaru wants to know, laughing as he flips the chair across from Tamamori around backwards and sits down, chin resting on his wrists on the back of it. “How’s Tama-chan holding up?”

Hikaru looks just as exhausted as Tamamori, dark rings under his eyes, but his grin is friendly as always. Tamamori is intensely glad that Hikaru got picked for their third member; even if they’ve never been particularly close as juniors, right now it feels as if Hikaru’s cheerfulness is the only constant in Tamamori’s rapidly shifting world.

“Eh,” he answers, after realizing he’s been silent for a good twenty seconds or more. His weirdness never seems to bother Hikaru, though; Hey!Say! must have enough of that to go around, Tamamori figures.

“Mmhm, and so tell me,” Hikaru holds out his own rolled-up script like a microphone, “what are Tama-chan’s recent happenings?”

“Can I ask you something?” Tamamori asks. Hikaru drops the script and shrugs. “You and Yabu-kun, you’re really close friends, right?”

“Yup!” Hikaru’s smile changes subtly, turns warmer. “Since we’ve been together so long, he’s my irreplaceable partner, definitely.”

“But you aren’t together, right? Like that?” Tamamori pries. Hikaru glances around a little to make sure nobody’s paying attention to them, then nods that Tamamori’s right. “How’d you know that you weren’t? If there isn’t anybody closer…”

Hikaru thinks about that for a few seconds before speaking, and Tamamori doesn’t interrupt. “I guess just that…we both went out with other people, and it wasn’t like that. He’s way more important than that, to me.”

“Mm.” Tamamori sighs at how close that sounds to what Miyata’s been saying to him. “Don’t you get jealous? When there’s other people?”

“Maybe a little, since there’s only so much time in a day.” Hikaru shrugs. “But the way things are, he spends a lot more time with me anyway, you know? Anyway, they come and go, but we don’t change. If there’s something he wants to feel once in a while and it’s not between us, I don’t begrudge him that. I’ve got so much of him already, more than anybody else can ever have. That’s enough.”

“Tcht,” Tamamori slumps in his chair, “so adult.”

“Something up with you and Miyacchi?” Hikaru asks, more perceptive than most people would realize underneath all the bleach.

“I think we decided we were just friends,” Tamamori says. He scrunches his nose. “We’re like in trial mode. Also I might have made out with Fujigaya.”

“Wow~!” Hikaru snorts a laugh. “Good luck with that.”

“No kidding,” Tamamori agrees darkly, and then they get hollered at by the stage manager for just sitting around. As they stand up, Hikaru claps Tamamori on the shoulder.

“Honestly it sucks worse for the person trying to date us than for the other guy,” he says, and his grin is sort of sharp all of a sudden. “Because you probably never shut up about him, right? Plus when you’re in a band with your best friend, you see him naked way more often. It’s not the sort of competition anybody else can win at.”

Tamamori thinks about that the rest of the day, because if there’s one other thing besides Hikaru’s cheerfulness that he can count on, it’s definitely Fujigaya’s competitive streak.


The last week of filming creeps up suddenly, and Tamamori realizes that if he doesn’t do something soon, he probably never will. Maybe it’s a huge mistake, the whole thing or just the Fujigaya part, he isn’t sure, but Tamamori does think that if he doesn’t try, then he’ll never know for sure.

It seems like the universe agrees, since when he goes looking for Fujigaya finally, he finds him in a dressing room alone, reading his script and mouthing words to himself. He doesn’t even notice when Tamamori comes in and shuts the door behind him, and he barely looks up when Tamamori clears his throat.

“Hm?” Fujigaya blinks up at him from behind his dorky-chic glasses for a second, then looks back to his script. “What’s up?”

“So the thing.” Tamamori inches closer. “The other week. In the van.”

Fujigaya’s mouth pinches, eyes glued much more firmly to the paper all of the sudden. “That. Look, sorry. It was stupid, and there’s Miyata obviously, we can just forget all about it, o—”

His mouth drops open in shock when Tamamori plucks the script out of Fujigaya’s hands, drops it onto the floor, and settles in his lap in its place.

“—kay?” Fujigaya tries to lean back, but there’s nowhere for him to go, really. “Get the hell off me.”

“There actually isn’t Miyata,” Tamamori clarifies. He does not get the hell off Fujigaya. “As of late.”

“Tama, I mean it,” Fujigaya growls, because Tamamori is breaking just about every last one of the no-touching-Fujigaya-first rules, and Fujigaya’s face says he’s inventing new ones as they speak. “Get off of me right now.”

“I don’t want to forget about the van,” Tamamori pushes the words out as fast as he can so that he might get finished with what he’s saying before Fujigaya murders him. “I liked the van. I’d be interested in doing more things like the van, and the van doesn’t necessarily have to even be involved.”

Fujigaya just stares at him.

“Unless you were just fooling around with me.” Tama tilts his head, thinking about that. “I’ve never just been fooled around with before, though, so even that might be fine.”

“Are you…” Fujigaya narrows his eyes like he’s trying to see into Tamamori’s brain. “Are you trying to pick me up?”

“No,” Tamamori says, “not trying. I’m actually picking you up.” There’s an awkward pause. “Aren’t I?”

Fujigaya splutters something that makes about as much sense as the junk that’s been coming out of Tamamori’s mouth without any input from his brain. Tamamori gives up and just kisses Fujigaya, since he’s convenient and apparently both of their mouths are stupid.

He changes his opinion in the next three seconds, because Fujigaya’s mouth isn’t stupid at all, it’s awesome. His lips are smooth from gloss and so warm against Tamamori’s; shivers run up the backs of Tamamori’s arms and the knots he’s been carrying around into his stomach melt from the warmth that starts pooling there instead.

When Fujigaya starts kissing him back, it’s a hell of a lot more than awesome.

By the time they break for air, Fujigaya’s cheeks are pink and Tamamori’s feel like they’re on fire, Fujigaya’s glasses are askew, Tamamori’s hair is mussed, and Tamamori has slid deeply enough into Fujigaya’s lap that they can’t be any closer without being naked.

“Mm,” Tamamori licks his lips, shivering at the way they’re tingling from the force of pressing them against Fujigaya’s, “jeans-san, you are definitely in the way.”

“Whoa!” Fujigaya tries to protest, eyes going wide when Tamamori slides off of his lap and to the floor in between Fujigaya’s knees, intent obvious. “WHOA! Wait, wait just a second!”

“But you want to, right?” Tamamori rubs his cheek a little against just how much Fujigaya does want to, making Fujigaya hiss. “It isn’t like they’ll leave us alone in here forever.”

“Tama, are you really okay with this?” Fujigaya gets his hands in Tamamori’s hair to tug his face up so they can see each other properly. “I mean, did…is this because of the van? Did Miyacchi break up with you?”

“No,” Tamamori shakes his head, but not enough to shake Fujigaya’s hands loose. “We decided that it wasn’t the same thing, what’s between us, and…” Tamamori noses at Fujigaya more firmly. “This.”

He waits, watching Fujigaya’s expression. It doesn’t change exactly, but after several breaths, Tamamori gets the feeling that Fujigaya isn’t going to resist. He leans forward a little more, and a little more, until he feels sure enough that Fujigaya isn’t going to push him to reach for his zipper.

“So long as this isn’t some weird rebound thing,” is all Fujigaya says. He twists his fingers a little tighter in Tamamori’s hair, getting a better grip and making Tamamori’s eyes flutter.

Tamamori isn’t sure himself what kind of weird thing it’ll turn out to be; for the moment his focus is more on doing a good enough job that Fujigaya won’t turn him down in the future, but not so good that he’ll be useless to return the favor immediately after.

Not that he’ll be able to voice any objections, if he does have them, since Tamamori plans to keep his mouth entirely occupied, one way or another.


Six months and two singles later, things haven’t changed so much.

Fujigaya is still an annoying son-of-a-bitch and Tamamori still tells his deodorant how hard his life is. Sometimes Tamamori spends a string of nights at Fujigaya’s house because it’s convenient and they bicker over who has to top because they’re both lazy; other times they get sick enough of each other’s faces that they don’t bother to see each other outside of work for weeks at a time.

For an interminable stretch in January they have a fight serious enough that they barely speak to each other, until finally Tamamori shoves Fujigaya into the prop closet and Fujigaya takes him up against the wall without even bothering to strip off any of their clothes. It takes another full week and Kitayama threatening Duet staff involvement for them to actually make up, Fujigaya mumbling that maybe he’s kind of a dick sometimes, and Tamamori admitting that he forgot what had even started the fight by day five.

“Oi, quit talking to yourself and get out of my way,” Fujigaya snaps while they’re in the dressing room after some live or other, mirror space at a premium, and then ten seconds later he’s asking sweetly if he can borrow Tamamori’s flatiron. Tamamori just rolls his eyes and hands it over, murmuring that Fujigaya sure looks like he needs it more anyway.

“What did you just say?” Fujigaya asks, eyes narrowing; Tamamori blinks innocently.

“Tama-chan~!” Miyata calls from the other side of the room. “Ready?”

“Almost!” Tamamori calls back, hip-checking Fujigaya over enough to tug at his hair one last time.

Fujigaya hip-checks him back. “What are you doing with that guy?”

“Going to dinner,” Tamamori answers with a shrug.

“Hmph,” says Fujigaya, lips pursing. “Nobody asked me if I wanted to go out.”

“Should get yourself a best friend,” Tamamori advises, watching Fujigaya’s expression out of the corner of his eye and trying not to smirk too obviously. “Or else asked your boyfriend out properly, but mn, too late now.”

“I invited Kitamitsu,” Miyata says, having drifted close enough that he’s heard most of their conversation. “So you could come along if you want. Double daaaate?” He gives Fujigaya a wide, cheesy smile.

“Pass.” Fujigaya flicks Miyata in the forehead and turns back to Tamamori, ignoring Miyata’s pout entirely. “Is it really okay for Kisumai’s frontmen to be seen with this weirdo?”

“Don’t be jealous,” Tamamori soothes, feeling generous and maybe still just a touch stage-high. He twines arms around Fujigaya’s neck and purrs, “You just have to ask, you know,” before pressing their mouths together in a sweet, lingering kiss.

“We won’t lose to you!” Nikaido calls out from across the room, but his swoop in towards Senga is cockblocked by a well-placed swing of Yokoo’s bag. “Oof!”

“Oi, knock it off,” Yokoo admonishes. “You too!”

Tamamori pulls away, chuckling, “Ask properly next time, yeah?”

“Whatever,” Fujigaya shakes him off and goes back to his hair, but the corners of his mouth are up. “Shoo, go on, get lost and take that guy with you.”

“Mitsu?” Miyata asks, turning to find Kitayama on his phone. “Coming?”

Kitayama covers his phone for a second. “It’s manager-san, about scheduling. I have to take care of it, you two go on. Don’t wait, I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”

“All right,” Miyata settles his bag on his shoulder, “but Leader’s always welcome to join, even late.”

It’s not for nothing that Tamamori is Miyata’s best friend; he doesn’t miss the moment of silent communication when Miyata and Kitayama’s eyes meet, the way Kitayama is smiling to himself as he turns away with his phone.

“So what’s up with that, hey?” Tamamori asks when they’re out on the street. “Kitamitsu?”

“Hm, nothing much.” He grunts when Tamamori whacks him in the shoulder, his smile turning sheepish. “Yet. All that stageplay time…you know how it is.”

When he raises his eyes to meet Tamamori’s, they’re content, hopeful, and for Tamamori that’s enough. He hopes with all his heart that Miyata can be happy, or at least as happy as Tamamori is. Looks like he’s off to a good start.

“Yeah,” Tamamori agrees. He nudges Miyata’s shoulder and Miyata nudges him back, and then they go to get the ramen that Tamamori has been pestering Miyata about all day.

They don’t get to bed until late, lingering late at the restaurant to avoid going out in the cold and exchanging mails with the other members about their upcoming tour the whole way home, and then Miyata-san’s thousand and one questions about Tamamori’s health and happenings, now that he’s too busy as Kisumai’s prince to come over nearly as often.

“You think she knows?” Tamamori asks reflectively, already sprawled out on Miyata’s bed, far too lazy to hunt up a T-shirt just for bed, like Miyata’s doing.

Miyata pauses, T-shirt tangled around his arms but not over his head yet. “About us?”

Tamamori smirks. “That you’ll never be prince-type.”

Laughing, Miyata tugs his shirt on the rest of the way and slaps at Tamamori’s bare shoulder to budge him over before crawling into bed beside him.

“We’ve got enough princes anyway,” Miyata says when they’re settled in, lights out and tucked under the blankets. “Too many princes spoils the—”

“Shut up,” Tamamori yawns before Miyata can get started. He rolls onto his side and then scootches backwards until his back is pressed against Miyata, the heat of his skin soothing against Tamamori’s tired muscles, making Tamamori hum in appreciation.

Miyata curls an arm loosely over Tamamori’s waist, murmuring a good night.

“Hey,” Tamamori says eventually into the darkness. “I hope it’s something, with Kitamitsu. I hope it’s good.”

All he gets in return is Miyata’s slow and even breathing. Tamamori figures that’s answer enough.

Remixed by Rikikomori here for JE Remix 2013.

3 people like this post.

  • By ri, 2012.08.25 @ 6:28 pm

    okay i know i already gushed all over this in your im box but i need it here for posterity. i don’t think i’ve ever read anything like this from you and as much as i hate cheating fics, i couldn’t not read this and i’m glad i did. i really like how easily you had tama shift from miyata to taipi, and how tamamiya realized they were better friends than lovers. it made the cheating more tolerable because there really wasn’t anything to cheat on, or something. with the cute nisen and tama’s “script-san, why is life so complicated?” to provide comedic relief, i could take the angst.

    and holy fuck were those tama/taipi kisses hot. *_*

    i really like the last scene with tamamiya just hanging out and still sleeping together as friends, the full circle-ness with the dumb prince joke and the promise of kitamiya. ♥3♥

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