Kis-My-Ft2, It’s All Cool

Title: It’s All Cool [Yokoo/Nikaido]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Even Yokoo gets tired of mothering them sometimes.
AN: Written for Shiritori. Ended up with some Yokoo/Nikaido this time. Not au at all! I know that’s shocking around here, haha.

It’s All Cool

“Invisible pants!” Yokoo hollers as Senga is reaching for the door, and their usual code phrase makes Senga stop and glance down.

His outfit consists of a very fashionable leo-print shirt, and not much else.

“Oops!” Senga grins sheepishly. “Thanks as usual, Watta.”

Rolling his eyes, Yokoo goes back to picking up the onigiri wrappers and half-empty bottles of tea that any room tends to accumulate if their unit is in it for more than three seconds. He keeps half an eye on their youngest until he’s sure that Senga will have pants on when he goes out the door on the second try.

“In public!” Yokoo reminds Miyata and Tamamori when the costume rack doesn’t come over quite far enough, ignoring Tamamori’s whine, and “Staff!” when Kitayama and Fujigaya’s bickering over who even knows what threatens to become an actual argument. They both shake themselves and glance around, then Kitayama puts his usual expression of ‘I’m cool, you’re cool, it’s all cool’ firmly back on, and Fujigaya pastes on a bright idol smile. Not that it changes his expression, really.

“You don’t have to baby-sit us,” Fujigaya grumps when Yokoo calmly shoulders in between the pair of them during interviews. Yokoo doesn’t even dignify that with a response, other than to snort, and then to tell Miyata to get between Nikaido and Senga like he’s supposed to and not to get any bright ideas this time.

He loves them, he really does, but they’re totally exhausting sometimes, and if being all a mess is what makes them lovable, they’re still…all a mess. And in Yokoo’s world, messes are for straightening out and cleaning up after.

So he isn’t expecting any better when Nikaido strolls up to him back in the dressing room, trying to just get a minute of peace to himself.

“What did you forget?” Yokoo asks, resigned and hoping to shoo Nikaido off as quickly as possible, back to the others even if it means Senga ends up without pants again. “Deodorant?”

“Nope,” Nikaido says. He offers no help, making Yokoo grit his teeth a little.

“Allergy medicine? Tissues? Phone charger?” Nikaido just keeps shaking his head, until Yokoo is really through with this game. “Just tell me what it is already, will you?”

“This.” Nikaido gives Yokoo a shove that knocks him backwards onto the couch behind him, arms windmilling comically. Before Yokoo can right himself, Nikaido hooks an arm under Yokoo’s knees to swing them onto the couch, then climbs right on top until he’s sprawled over Yokoo’s body, chest-to-chest.

“Not funny,” Yokoo growls, struggling a bit and wondering when Nikaido went entirely off his approved diet list. “Off!”

“Nope.” Satisfied with his position, Nikaido heaves a contented sigh and goes boneless like a cat, impossible to move. “Relax, already. Staff’ll get us for our duo shots when they’re ready. They can manage on their own for a little bit.”

“Nika…” The thing is, not going out there is almost worse, since Yokoo’s brain helpfully supplies plenty scenarios in which one or all of them get fired or put on hiatus or sent to debut in America. Senga isn’t wearing pants in any of the scenarios.

The thoughts cut off abruptly when Nikaido leans up and presses his lips to Yokoo’s, the kiss lazy and sweet. When he pulls back a few moments later, Yokoo’s mind is clear enough to look at him really, instead of being distracted thinking about everything else.

“I know you can’t help it,” Nikaido says, seems sympathetic even, “but if you let them get yelled at the once instead of saving them all the time, maybe they’d learn themselves, you know?”

Nikaido being the voice of reason makes Yokoo squirm deep in his soul, but he has to admit this is a good point. Maybe he has let the others become a bit too dependant on him, maybe now that they’re debuted and stable and reasonably popular, he doesn’t have to panic over them night and day.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “okay,” and he closes his eyes and does try to relax, Nikaido’s weight warm and soothing on top of his chest.

Of course it only lasts five minutes before Nikaido sneaks another kiss, and then the next one is kind of prolonged and involves his hands in Yokoo’s hair and then it gets kind of hot and seems entirely reasonable that their photoshoot clothes end up mostly on the floor, just to protect them! So they don’t get wrinkled!

“Oi!” Fujigaya snaps from the doorway, the slam of the door making Yokoo and Nikaido both freeze, and behind him is Kitayama’s ‘it’s all cool’ face and Miyata calling, “Staff!” and Tamamori snapping, “In public!” and Senga hollering, “Invisible pants!”

“Oh, get lost,” Yokoo groans, throwing his arm over his eyes, fuck his life, seriously.

“Or else get in here and shut the door,” Nikaido suggests, then yelps when Yokoo pinches his waist hard and he topples to the floor, taking all of Yokoo’s remaining dignity along with him.

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