Kis-My-Ft2, Shiver

Title: Shiver [Miyata/Tamamori]
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: 18 hours of PV filming in the fake rain leaves Tamamori not in the best condition.
AN: Written for Shiritori. I wanted to write something about them filming the PV with the fake rain for 18 hours in freezing weather, and how bad I felt for them that they even did that. Take better care of my idols, Avex!!

Shiver

“I don’t know,” Tamamori manages through chattering teeth, and Miyata frowns because his original question was, “Are you okay?”

They’re all soaked from PV filming in fake rain, all freezing their asses off because it’s the middle of the night in winter, but Tamamori’s lips are practically blue, and the blankets and hot coffee the staff keep forcing on them stopped having any effect on him about an hour ago. When Tamamori stops complaining about it and just looks strangely blank, that’s when Miyata starts to worry in earnest.

“Come here,” Miyata orders, yanking Tamamori over and fussing with their blankets until Tamamori is tucked against Miyata’s chest and their blankets are wrapped around both of them. Miyata emits more heat than any of them under normal circumstances; he silently orders his body to run as hot as it can as he hugs Tamamori tightly and rubs hands briskly over his back.

Tamamori doesn’t call Miyata names or squirm or anything really. His nose is freezing where it’s pressed against Miyata’s skin, his back barely warming no matter how long Miyata’s hands rub over it. When Kitayama looks over and catches Miyata’s glance, Miyata makes his eyes big and little panicked to get his attention. Kitayama taps Fujigaya’s shoulder on the way by, their usual signal that Fujigaya’s in charge for a bit, and Fujigaya swallows his own loud and long list of complaints and starts paying attention to the staff in earnest.

“How’s he doing?” Kitayama asks when he gets close enough to Miyata to ask it without shouting and drawing all the attention. He doesn’t look amazing himself, eyes tired and ringed, but Miyata’s seen Kitayama go a lot longer than this without stopping, stubbornly forcing his body to do what he says.

“M’fine,” Tamamori says in a monotone. Kitayama raises an eyebrow.

“He’s done,” Miyata pronounces. “Can you tell how much longer? Feel his skin.”

“Maybe an hour?” Kitayama guesses, glancing over his shoulder. He works a hand between the blankets and winces when he gets his palm against Tamamori’s back. Miyata’s hand bumps Kitayama’s, still trying to rub some warmth into Tamamori’s skin, and Kitayama squeezes it for a second. He looks over his shoulder. “Kento! Come here a second.”

Senga trots over, after pushing Nikaido into Yokoo’s side like sticking one piece of tape to another, head tilted to ask what’s up.

“Help Miyacchi out,” Kitayama says, tugging Tamamori’s blanket off so that he can push Senga’s chest against Tamamori’s back, and then re-wrapping him. “Do the best you can for him, okay? I’ll see if I can speed this up at all.”

“Hi, Tama-chan,” Senga says, adjusting his grip so that he’s as snug as he can be against Tamamori’s back. Tamamori grunts. “I could really go for a hot shower, huh? But you’ll have to settle for the two of us for now, sorry.”

It’s more than a little ridiculous, Miyata can’t help but think, their group’s two sweating champions trying to keep one of their frontmen from catching hypothermia like giant permed hot water bottles. Fujigaya’s solo shots are almost done, he can see with some regret, and next they’ll want Tamamori back.

“Can you do this?” Miyata asks, genuinely worried.

“Course,” Tamamori sighs. It’s not convincing.

“Fake a fainting spell,” Senga advises, voice muffled against Tamamori’s back. “Just fall down right here, I’ll scream and everything.”

“Melodramatic,” Tamamori accuses. His voice is flat and sort of distant, like it gets during the worst stretches of drama filming. There’s nothing Miyata can do about it then either, which is part of the reason he hates it so much. All he can do is hug Tamamori tightly and hope Kitayama’s right about being able to speed this up.

Even with Kitayama doing his best, it’s hours before they’re tucked in bed, dry, as many blankets as they can find piled on top of them. Tamamori was asleep the minute his head hit the pillow, but it’s fitful; he still shivers every few minutes, not quite waking himself up, and he has a small cough that Miyata doesn’t like the sound of. Miyata is too exhausted to sleep, body aching all over, one arm wrapped around Tamamori’s waist to hold him as close as possible, the other hand stroking Tamamori’s hair with gentle brushes of his fingers.

“Can’t sleep either?” Senga asks from the doorway. They’re staying over at Senga’s, sleeping in Senga’s bed while Senga and Nikaido take Senga’s mother’s room. Miyata looks up, shaking his head. Senga comes into the room with quiet steps, looking Tamamori over for himself. “How’s he doing?”

“I don’t know,” Miyata says, willing to be honest with Senga. “If we sleep in tomorrow morning, take it easy, I’m hoping he’ll sleep it off and not come down with anything. I’m surprised Nika let you out of his sight.”

“He can make it a whole ten minutes on his own.” Senga gives an affectionate roll of his eyes as he puts the back of his hand against Tamamori’s forehead to check his temperature. “He’s out cold, he doesn’t even know I’m missing.”

As if on cue, there’s a call of “Kenpi?” from down the hallway. Senga’s mouth pinches while Miyata chuckles at his expense.

“Go on, shoo, we’re fine,” Miyata assures him, giving Senga the best smile he can manage. It’s small but real. “Thanks for working hard today.” Senga wishes him goodnight and leaves, pulling the door shut behind him. “You too,” Miyata whispers to Tamamori, trying to settle more comfortably against him. “Thanks for working hard.”

“Gross,” Tamamori murmurs, more asleep than awake, and Miyata hides a grin against Tamamori’s hair. Seems like things will be back to normal by morning.

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