Kis-My-Ft2, Like a Korean Drama

Title: Like a Korean Drama
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Maybe Senga wants it to be a little dramatic after all.
AN: Written for Shiritori.

Like a Korean Drama

“Right on the mouth,” Miyata says, ridiculously smug, and behind him Tamamori is whining and flailing, face beet red at being outed as the initiator of their backstage encounter. Nikaido and Fujigaya are cracking up loudly at Tamamori’s expense. “I guess two whole days is too much of a drought for Tama-chan.”

“I’m going to kill you!” Tamamori wails, adding that he wouldn’t touch Miyata again for a million yen. Miyata chuckles affectionately, everybody in the room well aware that Tamamori can’t even make it the two days most of the time. Tamamori folds his arms and pouts like a thundercloud until Miyata squeezes him around the waist and asks him not to be mad, Miyata can’t helps that he acts so much like an idiot when he loves Tamamori this much.

“My little water octopus,” Miyata purrs, making how grabby Tamamori is even sound cute, and Tamamori whines some more, but doesn’t struggle hard enough to break out of Miyata’s possessive grip.

Across the room, Senga does some whining himself, until Yokoo looks up from the magazine he’s reading.

“Something you want?” Yokoo asks. Kitayama, head in Yokoo’s lap, gives a fake snore so that he won’t have to offer any help himself.

“No,” Senga says glumly, shifting from foot to foot. Nothing Yokoo can give him anyway. What Senga wants is Nikaido to be over here fooling around with him instead of dumb old Tamamori and Fujigaya, to be paying attention to him, and maybe to even be dragged into a backstage corner once in a while.

“Then what are you hovering like a vulture for?” Yokoo wants to know. When he gets no response, he sets his magazine down and eyes Senga critically. “Honestly, Ken-chan, just tell him. He’s never going to figure it out on his own.”

Senga ducks his head, flustered at being so obvious, but at the same time, he makes a stubborn face. He doesn’t want to spoon-feed Nikaido this like they have to with most things, wants Nikaido to notice Senga’s feelings on his own, to want Senga on his own. And if he can’t…maybe that’s Senga’s answer after all.

It hurts to think about like that, but Senga doesn’t know how else to figure out whether Nikaido could ever be serious about him or not.

“Or don’t.” Yokoo shrugs. “But this isn’t a drama. He isn’t going to suddenly realize his deep feelings and run to the airport through the rain to stop you from going to school in Canada by professing his love. This morning he made me call his cell phone because he couldn’t figure out where he’d put it. It was in his sneaker.”

“Oi,” Senga protests, but it doesn’t have much heat. The last time he stayed over at Nikaido’s place the same thing had happened, and the phone was in the freezer on top of the ice cream.

“Kenpi!” Nikaido hollers right behind Senga, making him jump six centimeters. “I’m bored! Come to the vending machine with me!”

“Okay, okay,” Senga agrees, trying to calm his racing heart. One look over his shoulder at Nikaido’s grin sends his heart stumbling right back over itself again though. “Give me a second, I’m talking to Watta.”

“Fi~ne.” Nikaido trots off to dig some coins out of his bag, leaving Senga to heave another sigh at Yokoo.

“You clearly don’t want to be helped, so run along,” is Yokoo’s response, having little patience for people who demand his advice and then don’t take it. “Shoo.”

“Don’t be like that,” Senga pouts, and even though Yokoo tries to give him a stern look, Senga can read the sympathy underneath it. “I just…if I ask him, if I tell him how much I want it, he’ll do it. He won’t even think twice. And I’ll never know, you know? If I forced him.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Kitayama growls, finally opening an eye to give Senga a dark look. “Get down here.”

“Wh-what?” Senga asks, even more startled when Kitayama grabs his wrist. In one deft move, Kitayama rolls over onto his back and yanks Senga down, making him lose his balance so that he tips over on top of Kitayama on the couch. “Hey!”

“People who keep me from napping have to pay the toll,” Kitayama says, voice a low growl, and Senga’s eyes go wide as Kitayama steals a breath-taking kiss, one hand still tight around Senga’s wrist and the other working up into his hair to pull him down closer.

Senga shoves him back and scrambles off as quickly as he can make his limbs cooperate, face burning and lips tingling. He scuttles over to Nikaido to hustle him out into the hallway, eyes glued to the floor and no idea whether Nikaido saw that or not.

“Hey,” Nikaido says into the silence, broken only by the scuffing of their sneakers on the linoleum. “Do you…like Kitamitsu?”

“No,” Senga says, thinking, not him.

Nikaido must sense something off about his response, because he follows up by asking, “Is there someone else you like?”

“Yes,” Senga answers truthfully. He dares a glance up, and Nikaido’s face doesn’t look happy.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You never said…”

Senga’s little spark of hope that Nikaido might be jealous dies down a bit as he wonders if Nikaido is just hurt Senga didn’t confide in him. He decides to push his luck. “Guess who it is?”

“Not a girl?” Nikaido asks, and Senga shakes his head. Not like they ever have time to hang around with girls, much less fall in love with them, so it’s not a bizarre question. “Someone we see a lot?”

“Yes.” Senga suppresses a smile. Nikaido must see himself in mirrors often enough, he supposes, he’s an idol like the rest of them.

“But not Kitamitsu? Is it Gaya?” Nikaido asks, and Senga shakes his head again. “Tama-chan? Is that why you’re kind of sad lately? Because he’s already taken?”

“No.” Senga feels a little better, knowing that Nikaido really had noticed his moodiness. They are best friends, after all, but it’s nice to hear it.

“Kenpi,” Nikaido says, plainly sick of the game. “Who? I won’t tell, I promise.”

“Nika…” Senga trails off, heart in his throat.

“Kenpi,” Nikaido says back, still looking exasperated, and Senga lets out a completely inappropriate snort as he realizes that Nikaido thought Senga was just saying his name.

“No,” Senga corrects, “the person I like…” His voice sticks in his throat right on the brink of the confession.

There’s a tense few seconds before finally the light goes on in Nikaido’s eyes.

“I like you, Nika,” Senga manages softly, giving in after all. Nikaido’s eyes go out of focus a bit, like he’s replaying mentally the last however many times they’ve hung out, only filtered through Senga’s crush. Senga wants to squirm, because this is exactly what he was trying to avoid. “Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Nikaido frowns, looking him over like he does when Senga falls skating and Nikaido doesn’t know where the injury is. “Don’t you…want to like me?”

“That’s not it,” Senga hurries to explain. “But you always do whatever I ask you to, so I didn’t want to ask you to like me back, because then you would. I want you to do it on your own. I…” Senga trails off, realizing that maybe he did want it to be like a drama a little bit, want Nikaido to sweep him off his feet and maybe it could even rain a little. Confessing in the hallway next to the vending machine feels kind of stupid.

“Idiot,” Nikaido says, fiercely enough that Senga’s eyes go wide with hurt before he adds, “I do whatever you ask me because I like you!”

“What?” Senga’s stomach is bunched up with panic and want and he feels like he might throw up. Who throws up during a confession?! he demands of his stupid body. “You do? Like me like…?”

“I like you like you’re my best friend.” Nikaido looks uncomfortable expressing this in words. “More than anyone else, a lot more. You’re the only best friend I’ve ever had, so how am I supposed to know if it’s weird that I like you this much? But if you wanted to try kissing and…stuff…” Nikaido draws a deep breath and lets it out again. “I think I might like the idea of that.”

“Nika,” Senga breathes, throat closing up a little and afraid if he so much as sneezes he’ll wake up and find out he’s dreaming.

“I sure don’t want to do that with girls,” Nikaido says, random enough that it startles a watery laugh out of Senga. He grabs Senga’s hand in one of his and squeezes it tight. Nikaido’s hand is warm, familiar, soothing some of Senga’s panic.

“I’m glad,” Senga tells him shyly. “For now, only do that stuff with me?” He leans in and kisses Nikaido’s cheek, delighted when Nikaido’s skin flushes red under his lips.

“At least I know what all your bits do,” Nikaido mumbles, almost to himself, and Senga can’t keep from hugging him tightly, practically shaking with relief. “Right?”

He can’t wait to take him home so they can both find out.

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