Kis-My-Ft2, Triple Crown

Title: Triple Crown [Tamamori/Miyata]
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: During planning for Kis-My-Ft2’s first concerts, Miyata levels up unexpectedly.
AN: Miyata is a jerk for getting his buttmark before Tamamori. Miyata’s is the same as the thing on his Miya-Tee, only instead of the Miya kanji, it’s the kissmark instead.

Triple Crown

The wind made Tamamori whine and cling to Miyata’s more tightly, but Miyata didn’t mind it. Being a little cold was worth it to have Tamamori pressed against his side on the walk home from the train station. It was already late, the meetings for their concerts going late. Miyata could hardly believe it, that they were going to have concerts, that they were being allowed to make some of the decisions about it themselves.

That he’d stood up for himself in a meeting and might get to do his own corner after all.

“Hey!” Tamamori said, bumping more firmly into Miyata. “Pay attention to me. What’s up with you?”

“Just thinking about today,” Miyata answered. “Are you excited?”

“Ugh, it’s so much work, though.” Tamamori made a dramatic face. “New skating tricks, as if I need more excuses to fall on my face.”

“Yeah, be careful with that. Pretty sure that’s why they hired you,” Miyata teased. He leaned over to kiss Tamamori’s cheek, the darkness making it reasonably safe, and Tamamori squawked a protest.

“Jerk. Hurry up, will you, I’m freezing!”

Once inside the Miyata house, Miyata’s mother took one look at them and hustled them off to a bath, promising to heat them up some curry. Miyata was still half-lost in thought so that Tamamori had to practically drag him up the stairs, and offered Tamamori first bath.

“Are you being coy?” Tamamori asked, eyebrow raised. “Get in here and take off your pants, geez.”

“Okay, okay,” Miyata agreed, chuckling because he knew that Tamamori was hustling him along more because he wanted to warm up and then eat more than because he wanted to fool around in the Miyata family bathtub. Tamamori was going to change the most out of any of them, Miyata would bet. He’d always been great so far as Miyata was concerned, but lately it seemed like other people were starting to see it too.

It had used to seem a little crazy, what Kitayama said about them making it through together, and maybe it still did a little, Miyata thought. But if Tamamori was going to turn into some kind of adult and if the staff were going to let Miyata be more of himself on stage, then it might not be so crazy after all, right?

Nah, it was still crazy.

“What the hell is that?”

“What?” Miyata looked up from his wool-gathering and turned to find Tamamori staring at his butt.

“That!” Tamamori reached down to poke Miyata’s butt, square in the fleshy part of his right cheek. “You’ve got a mark!”

“I do?!” Miyata reached back to feel where Tamamori was pointing, but the skin didn’t feel any different. “Really?”

“Yes!” Tamamori said, voice indignant. “Quit it! You can’t have a mark before me!”

“Tama-chan!” Miyata started laughing at Tamamori’s childish pout and couldn’t stop. “Don’t be like that, you know I can’t help it.”

“Hmph.” Tamamori grabbed Miyata by the shoulders and steered him in front of the mirror. With some twisting Miyata could see it, a pair of lips like Kitayama’s and Senga’s and Fujigaya’s. Miyata’s had a circle around them, with a little crown sitting at a jaunty angle on top. “A crown, seriously? Who do you even think you are?”

“Sorry,” Miyata said, grinning like an idiot and not sorry at all. “Blame my mom, she wanted a prince all this time.”

“I mean, be serious,” Tamamori grumbled. “Mine better be, like, five crowns and a royal scepter if they’re handing them out to people like you.”

“Aw, are you jealous?” Miyata grinned harder. “Cute~. Don’t worry, Tama-chan, you’ll always be my princess. And if you do get a crown too, we’ll match!”

Tamamori’s mouth bunched up in a line, even more cutely. “Never mind. It’s better if my ass is unblemished for when I’m in an-an anyway.”

“An-an!” Miyata gasped, cracking up hard enough that he had to lean against the sink. “Oh man, that’ll be the day.”

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