A.B.C.-Z, A Tough Nut To Crack

Title: A Tough Nut To Crack [Hashimoto/Totsuka]
Rating/Warnings: R for ABC and their Z. Who is entirely illegal.
Summary: Hasshi gets his way. No one is shocked.
AN: This is just entirely shameful, and my hope is that now that I’ve written the Hasshi/Tottsu i can definitely not ever write it again. Um, for Hasshi’s birthday on the 15th? where he will turn, haha, 16.

A Tough Nut To Crack

“Ne, Gocchi,” Hashimoto asks, lounging around on the hotel bed on his stomach, “why won’t the others play with me like you?”

Goseki, who was dozing for a few moments, opens his eyes just enough to run them over Hashimoto’s bare back, and the sheet thrown over his waist that is really only serving to highlight how naked he is.

“I think,” he answers, letting his eyes fall shut again, “that it’s because they have a shred of human decency, Ryosuke.”

Hashimoto giggles, the low, smooth sound of it sliding pleasantly over Goseki’s bare skin. A second later, Hashimoto’s weight rolls into Goseki’s side, half on him, and Goseki curls an arm around his waist, only murmuring a token protest about his sore muscles from hours of practice and performance, plus the extra.

“Gocchi’ll help me, right?” Hashimoto asks, his voice as soft and coaxing as the breath brushing against Goseki’s cheek.

“Help you what?” Goseki asks idly.

“Help me get the others to play with me.”

Goseki cracks one eye back open again and looks Hashimoto over, but Hashimoto is only staring right back, hopeful and guileless.

“Start with Fumito,” is Goseki’s advice, and then when Hashimoto seems determined to thank him in a predictable manner, pushes Hashimoto down by the shoulders.

*****

Goseki’s plan, as related to Hashimoto after Goseki had tired him out enough that he was lying still enough to probably hear most of it, is simple and direct. That’s what works best with Kawai (“and most of you hyperactive kouhai,” Goseki had added with a sharp eye, making Hashimoto beam at him) and that, in Hashimoto’s opinion, made it genius.

That’s how Hashimoto comes to be standing in Kawai’s shower after their next show, wearing only a towel around his waist, Kawai blinking at him.

Kawai curses when he gets shampoo in his eye and turns to rinse off quickly, but when he turns back, Hashimoto is still standing there, patient and not a figment of Kawai’s overactive fantasy life.

“Your towel is getting wet,” Kawai says. Hashimoto looks down, as if he’d forgotten he was wearing it, then tugs it off with one hand and leans back to drop it on the floor outside of the shower.

“Problem solved,” he chirps.

“Um,” Kawai manages, just before Hashimoto shoves him back against the wall.

*****

Tsukada isn’t much harder, once Kawai and Goseki team up to help Hashimoto plan, or at least once they tire Kawai out so that he passes out and Goseki can think.

For Tsukada, all it takes is Hashimoto slipping in at the end of a Butoukan practice and asking Tsukada to help him with a particular thing. Tsukada is already sweat-soaked and limp with exhaustion, but he’d never refuse a request like that from any of his kouhai, especially not Hashimoto.

It makes it sort of painfully easy, but Hashimoto doesn’t mind.

“It’s this thing,” Hashimoto does something sort of vague with his hips. “I can’t do it right.”

“This?” Tsukada’s bodyroll is smooth as always despite his exhaustion, and it takes Hashimoto a moment to drag his eyes back up to Tsukada’s face and say yeah, sure, that one.

Hashimoto does a poor imitation of Tsukada’s roll, making Tsukada demonstrate again, then purposely fails at it a few more times, scrunching up his nose in exaggerated frustration.

Finally, as inevitably he must, Tsukada reaches over to put hands on Hashimoto’s hips to push-pull him in the right motion. As soon as that happens, Hashimoto wraps fingers around Tsukada’s wrists and yanks him closer, until his back is flush against Tsukada’s chest, and the contact goes all the way down.

“Hasshi?” Tsukada asks, voice half an octave higher than it had been a moment ago.

“Show me again,” Hashimoto murmurs, shifting to get even more comfortable and wishing he weren’t so damned tall. If he were short, like a proper kouhai, he could lean his head back to press his face into the curve of Tsukada’s neck, where the skin would taste like salt and smell like Tsukada.

But then again, if he were shorter than Tsukada, it wouldn’t be quite so easy or satisfying to shove him up against the mirrored wall. And if there’s one thing that Hashimoto’s learned in the Jimusho, it’s how to make the best of your situation despite your growth spurts.

*****

It’s Totsuka who proves to be the real problem, much to Hashimoto disappointment.

“I’ve tried everything,” he complains to the others, and they sympathize with him because he really has.

But when Hashimoto puts his head in Totsuka’s lap, Totsuka just ruffles his hair a little, and when Hashimoto grabs him from behind for a ninja attack hug, Totsuka lets him hold on for a few moments, patting Hashimoto’s arm, before slipping out of his grip and going about his business.

“But I like Tottsu,” Hashimoto says plaintively, even desperate enough to try confessions, but Totsuka just smiles his usual gentle smile at Hashimoto and says that that’s good, isn’t it, because they’re in the same unit so they should get along.

“Ah, Tottsu’s a tough nut to crack,” Kawai says wisely, sprawled lazily across the end of Tsukada’s hotel bed and also his legs. Tsukada seems too tired to argue with him about it, and maybe willing to encourage it if Kawai’s hand would roam a little further up his thigh.

“We’ll just have to trap him,” Goseki announces, tapping his fingers on Hashimoto’s hip thoughtfully. “So that he has no way out.”

“Like a hamster!” Hashimoto agrees, his face a sort of younger, chubbier-cheeked version of Goseki’s devious expression.

After a second of Kawai cracking up, Tsukada asks, “Do you mean like a rat?” but nobody’s shocked when Hashimoto shrugs and says he’s never had one of those.

*****

“I thought you liked sharing a room with Goseki,” Totsuka comments mildly from the tiny attached bathroom where he’s brushing his teeth.

“I do,” Hashimoto answers, sitting on the edge of his bed in just his pajama pants, swinging his feet. “But we decided I had to trap you.”

“That’s nice.” Totsuka strolls out of the bathroom and gives Hashimoto’s head a vague pat on the way to his bed.

Undeterred, Hashimoto stands up and follows, and when Totsuka crawls onto his bed, Hashimoto follows him there too. He edges Totsuka over until Totsuka’s hip touches the wall, and pulls his own long legs up to fold them in front of them. He regards Totsuka very seriously as Totsuka gets comfortable against his pillows.

“You should go to sleep, Hasshi,” Totsuka says mildly. “We’ve got two more shows tomorrow. How’s your ankle?”

“It’s fine.” Hashimoto flexes his foot a little to show, ignoring the way it pulls tight. He just tripped on stage a little and came down on it wrong, it’s no big deal. “It’s no big deal,” he repeats out loud.

“If it hurts, you should elevate it while you sleep,” Totsuka says.

“I said it’s fine.” Hashimoto blows his bangs out of his face. “Ne, Tottsu, I’m half-naked on your bed alone in a hotel room, and you want to talk about my ankle?”

“Well,” Totsuka says practically, sitting back up again, “we’ll be talking about it plenty if you don’t rest it properly and then you sprain it in the middle of a run of shows, won’t we?”

“Tottsuuuu,” Hashimoto whines, but he dully tugs the hem of his pant leg up when Totsuka motions to let him see. He grunts a little as Totsuka presses his ankle with firm fingers. “Goseki-kun said I was supposed to trap you, so you couldn’t escape.”

“Mm.” Totsuka presses harder and Hashimoto swallows a gasps. “That doesn’t hurt?”

“No,” Hashimoto lies. “Kawai-kun and Tsuka-chan agreed, but I don’t want to trap you. I like you, Tottsu.”

Totsuka heaves a soft sigh, his fingers stilling on Hashimoto’s ankle. “I know, Hasshi.”

“You do?” Hashimoto blinks, then frowns harder. “Then why won’t you like me back?” he demands. “Why won’t you like me like Goseki-kun and Tsuka-chan and Kawai-kun?”

“Because I have a shred of human decency.” Totsuka squeezes Hashimoto’s ankle gently. “But just a shred. That’s why you should go sleep in your bed and probably put a shirt on and don’t forget to elevate your ankle.”

“I don’t want to do any of those things.” Hashimoto pulls his ankle out of Totsuka’s hand and throws a knee over him, so that his weight settles directly on Totsuka’s lap.

“Hasshi…” Totsuka starts, but Hashimoto cuts him off.

“Stop being so reasonable!” he snaps. “Look, I’ve confessed to you and everything, so do you like me or what?”

Hashimoto really doesn’t want to trap Totsuka, but Totsuka’s mild expression pinches a little, and even Hashimoto can see that that’s just what he’s done. Still, he hasn’t got an answer yet, and Hashimoto’s tired of guessing at what Totsuka’s answer might be.

“Yes,” Totsuka says heavily. “I like you, Hasshi. Like Fumito and Tsuka.” Totsuka’s lips thin. “Not so much like Gocchi.”

“That’s okay,” Hashimoto rushes to assure, “that’s good enough,” just before he leans down to crush his mouth against Totsuka’s. One Goseki is really more than enough in most cases, Hashimoto thinks to himself in the half-second before his brain shuts off.

Hashimoto presses closer, leaning harder into the kiss, until Totsuka puts hands up to his shoulders and pushes him back.

“I can certainly tell who taught you that. Are you trying to kiss me or eat me?” Totsuka scolds. “Don’t answer that,” he shakes his head as a grin sneaks onto Hashimoto’s face. “Slow down, this isn’t a competition.”

Hashimoto tries to look penitent, but he doesn’t quite manage it. “I wouldn’t mind if Tottsu wanted to teach me to do it right.”

“Oi, stop that,” Totsuka orders, leaning even further back from Hashimoto, until his shoulders touch the headboard. “If we’re going to…to…” Totsuka stumbles over the words, then just gives up, “then I want Hasshi. The real Hasshi, not the fake Hasshi-cutesy-moron-kouhai-chan. It’s fine for the others, if they like that sort of thing, but they’re just fooling around with you.”

Hashimoto chews on his lower lip for a few seconds, thinking about that. But then the smile that he gives Totsuka makes Totsuka’s breath catch.

“You aren’t just fooling around with me?” he asks, his voice low and so dangerous, but it’s way too late now for Totsuka to hide the obvious answer.

“I’d rather not, no,” Totsuka says, and Hashimoto’s smile lights up even brighter just before he attacks Totsuka for another fierce kiss and proves that really nobody needs to teach him anything.

It’s a couple minutes before they break for air, both of them breathing quickly, Totsuka’s eyes glazed and Hashimoto’s cheeks flushed.

“Just get under here,” Totsuka finally says, tugging at the blankets where they’re trapped between them, and Hashimoto scrambles to comply, humming happily when he can press his chilled skin against Totsuka’s warm side. “You’re freezing! Did you dry off properly? You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Tottsuuuu,” Hashimoto whines. “Quit it! Kiss me instead.”

“Brat,” Totsuka sighs, but he lets Hashimoto have his way, as usual. He rubs his palms over Hashimoto’s bare back as Hashimoto sighs into his mouth, until Hashimoto’s skin is warm again and Hashimoto is practically melted against him.

“Don’t stop,” Hashimoto says, voice vague, when Totsuka pulls back enough to strip his shirt off, but he doesn’t seem to have any objection to it when Totsuka’s skin is sliding along his own. “Ne, Tottsu…”

“Shush,” Totsuka orders, brushing knuckles along Hashimoto’s sternum, and Hashimoto shuts his mouth. “It’s late, and we have a busy day tomorrow. So, is this okay for now?” Totsuka slides his hand down until his fingers are teasing at the edges of Hashimoto’s waistband.

“Yes,” Hashimoto agrees, and then when Totsuka pauses for too long, shoves his pajama pants down far enough that his cock all but falls into Totsuka’s hand. He’s already half-hard, and Totsuka curses quietly when Hashimoto hardens even further at just the touch of his fingers. “I can touch you too, right?”

Totsuka takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before agreeing. He wishes they’d turned out the lights before they started this, because his cheeks flood with heat when Hashimoto finds him mostly hard as well and gives a little noise of surprise.

“Tottsu really does like me,” Hashimoto purrs as he pushes Totsuka’s own pants down far enough for him to get a good grip.

“What did I tell you about that?” Totsuka warns. But then, in case Hashimoto starts to think that Totsuka doesn’t like him to talk at all, amends, “Tell me what you think about when you do this to yourself.”

“I think about Tottsu sometimes,” Hashimoto says slyly, then laughs when Totsuka grumbles a “Yeah, yeah.” He shifts around a little to get comfortable, laying his head on Totsuka’s shoulder. “Sometimes I think about Goseki-kun, the way he looks at me when he’s got a lot of time and is trying to decide where to start.”

Totsuka gives a quiet groan and his hand tightens on Hashimoto, because he knows exactly what Hashimoto is talking about.

“Or sometimes,” Hashimoto continues, matching the speed of his strokes to Totsuka’s, “I think about Tsuka-chan when he dances, and his face is all serious and his skin is all flushed and there’s sweat running down his collar and things. Or Kawai-kun, the way his eyes get all big if you surprise him in the shower, and he’s naked and wet and can’t really fend you off.”

“You aren’t normal,” Totsuka groans, closer than he wants to be and hoping that Hashimoto is too. It’s going to be really embarrassing if he isn’t, Totsuka thinks dimly.

“That’s okay,” Hashimoto’s voice is soft and distracted, “normal people don’t get to be with their senpai like this, right? Normal people don’t get to touch Tottsu.”

“Damn right,” Totsuka growls low in his throat, and Hashimoto gives a little cry and comes into Totsuka’s hand.

It’s almost enough for Totsuka, but not quite, and he waits patiently for Hashimoto to come down, Hashimoto’s hand still wrapped tight around his own erection.

“Hmm,” Hashimoto noses at Totsuka’s throat, limp and content. He’s blinking up at Totsuka with warm, trusting eyes, and Totsuka has a pang of guilt.

“We should just go to sleep,” Totsuka starts, trying to roll away to find a tissue for his hand, but he cuts off with quiet moan when Hashimoto tightens his grip.

“Don’t be stupid,” Hashimoto dismisses Totsuka’s perfectly legitimate concerns, “I definitely want to taste Tottsu.”

The second moan is not at all quiet, nor are any of the ones afterwards when Hashimoto decides to crawl down Totsuka’s body and replace his hand with his mouth. He stares up at Totsuka with his dark, trusting eyes the entire time, and Totsuka has no choice but to wrap both of his hands tight in Hashimoto’s hair and hang on as Hashimoto drives him over the edge.

“Mm,” Hashimoto murmurs, giving Totsuka a last lick and settling down with his cheek pillowed on Totsuka’s hip. “I knew Tottsu would taste good.”

“Oh my god,” Totsuka says weakly, too exhausted to move or commit ritual suicide like he definitely ought to, “I got come in your hair.”

“Don’t worry,” Hashimoto pats Totsuka’s thigh in a vague, senpai-like manner. “It washes out.”

*****

The next morning they meet in the hallway outside their rooms, Hashimoto bouncing out happily while Totsuka slinks behind him in shame. At least, Hashimoto would be bouncing if it weren’t for the limp.

“Go, Tottsu!” Kawai crows, slapping Totsuka on the back while Tsukada runs hands over Hashimoto to check his condition and Goseki beams at both of them with malevolent pride.

“It’s not like that!” Totsuka snaps in mortification. “He wouldn’t elevate his ankle!”

But nobody listens to him. Especially not after Hashimoto relates that Totsuka definitely tastes best.