lame :|
More than difficult assignments, I hate stupid assignments. D: What's the point of doing them if you already know you can? ejasferg. *bitchwhinepmsangst* 8|
So have a drabble. xD Because the world is like, dumb. Merf.
% + % + %
what do you call a parrot with a raincoat on?
"Ooh, food~" Senga observes happily, making his way into the break room; lemon slices sit on the table. They're good. Tsukada's already had one.
"Hey, Senga," Tsukada grins -- then, "Hey, Yamamoto," too, as the other follows in.
"Hey," Yamamoto says. But he's talking to Senga, who's just now reaching for a slice: "Don't eat those, they're expired."
"How do you know?" Senga asks, brow furrowed as his hand hovers an inch from the plate. "They still smell alright..."
"Easy," Yamamoto tells him. "See how they're all yellow inside? They're meant to be white."
"Oh," Senga says, retracting his hand to Tsukada's disbelief, "...okay then," and shuffles off to see if his bag has any snacks left in it after meeting up with Nikaido that morning.
Tsukada quirks a brow once their youngest is out of earshot. "You do know they're lemon squares, right?" he asks Yamamoto. "And that... lemons are yellow?"
Yamamoto rolls his eyes, lifting the piece that Senga had been going for mere seconds ago. "Do I look like an idiot, Tsukada?" he asks.
He has it halfway to his lips when Bunichi suddenly appears in the doorway (saving Tsukada from answering, by and by): "Don't eat those, they're not healthy."
"No shit, Sherlock," Yamamoto glares.
Although his scathing look (does everyone think we're all retarded?) is lost on Bunichi's ever-dispassionate face, it does prompt the Osakan to elaborate. "Yara claimed them."
Yamamoto drops the slice like it's burned him, hissing in disgust. "Shit."
They all know how Yara claims things, and nobody needs to ask where Yara's fingers may have been. Tsukada represses a shudder.
"Well, if I can't have them, then neither can he," Yamamoto scowls. And empties the entire plate of squares into the small bin by the sink.
Tsukada's stomach flops at the tragic waste -- but only until Yamamoto leaves. At which point, Bunichi trots up to the bin, inspecting it momentarily with a contemplative hum.
Then removes the bin liner.
"What are you doing?" Tsukada asks, bewildered.
"Mm..." the Osakan says, as if considering a moment. He looks over one shoulder, then over the other before finally speaking. "This is a trade secret, but since it's only you it might be fine."
"Just me?" Tsukada raises an eyebrow, which goes ignored.
"He's weak against Yara." Bunichi leans in with an impression of mischief, though none of his deadpan face is smiling. "So this morning, I changed the bag."
With that, he walks out.
And Tsukada pretends his water is alcohol, recklessly downing three glasses before they have to go back to practice.
:::OMAKE::
"Drunk at practise, Tsuka-chan?" Goseki grins. The call earlier had been humorously distressed. To him, at least.
Tsukada gives a mournful look, setting his bag down. "I wish."
"Come now," Totsuka smiles benignly, "being in two groups is an honour."
"You got Kitty," Tsukada says. "I-- I get..." He drains the rest of his drinkbottle with an air of desperation. "I swear Yara only picked me because you guys would've given him too much shit if you'd been stuck with... with..."
Members' names are apparently too hard to say.
Kawai pats his back consolingly on the way past. "Morning, guys."
"Afternoon."
"Saa~" Goseki shrugs. "The path of least resistance. Old Tomoyuki's good at that."
Kawai raises an eyebrow, unpacking his makeup case. "You have no right calling anyone old."
"Neither do you," Goseki grins.
"Touché," Kawai snickers. "Tottsu can do it."
"Old Tomoyuki's good at that," Totsuka says, serene as he strums his guitar.
So have a drabble. xD Because the world is like, dumb. Merf.
% + % + %
what do you call a parrot with a raincoat on?
"Ooh, food~" Senga observes happily, making his way into the break room; lemon slices sit on the table. They're good. Tsukada's already had one.
"Hey, Senga," Tsukada grins -- then, "Hey, Yamamoto," too, as the other follows in.
"Hey," Yamamoto says. But he's talking to Senga, who's just now reaching for a slice: "Don't eat those, they're expired."
"How do you know?" Senga asks, brow furrowed as his hand hovers an inch from the plate. "They still smell alright..."
"Easy," Yamamoto tells him. "See how they're all yellow inside? They're meant to be white."
"Oh," Senga says, retracting his hand to Tsukada's disbelief, "...okay then," and shuffles off to see if his bag has any snacks left in it after meeting up with Nikaido that morning.
Tsukada quirks a brow once their youngest is out of earshot. "You do know they're lemon squares, right?" he asks Yamamoto. "And that... lemons are yellow?"
Yamamoto rolls his eyes, lifting the piece that Senga had been going for mere seconds ago. "Do I look like an idiot, Tsukada?" he asks.
He has it halfway to his lips when Bunichi suddenly appears in the doorway (saving Tsukada from answering, by and by): "Don't eat those, they're not healthy."
"No shit, Sherlock," Yamamoto glares.
Although his scathing look (does everyone think we're all retarded?) is lost on Bunichi's ever-dispassionate face, it does prompt the Osakan to elaborate. "Yara claimed them."
Yamamoto drops the slice like it's burned him, hissing in disgust. "Shit."
They all know how Yara claims things, and nobody needs to ask where Yara's fingers may have been. Tsukada represses a shudder.
"Well, if I can't have them, then neither can he," Yamamoto scowls. And empties the entire plate of squares into the small bin by the sink.
Tsukada's stomach flops at the tragic waste -- but only until Yamamoto leaves. At which point, Bunichi trots up to the bin, inspecting it momentarily with a contemplative hum.
Then removes the bin liner.
"What are you doing?" Tsukada asks, bewildered.
"Mm..." the Osakan says, as if considering a moment. He looks over one shoulder, then over the other before finally speaking. "This is a trade secret, but since it's only you it might be fine."
"Just me?" Tsukada raises an eyebrow, which goes ignored.
"He's weak against Yara." Bunichi leans in with an impression of mischief, though none of his deadpan face is smiling. "So this morning, I changed the bag."
With that, he walks out.
And Tsukada pretends his water is alcohol, recklessly downing three glasses before they have to go back to practice.
:::OMAKE::
"Drunk at practise, Tsuka-chan?" Goseki grins. The call earlier had been humorously distressed. To him, at least.
Tsukada gives a mournful look, setting his bag down. "I wish."
"Come now," Totsuka smiles benignly, "being in two groups is an honour."
"You got Kitty," Tsukada says. "I-- I get..." He drains the rest of his drinkbottle with an air of desperation. "I swear Yara only picked me because you guys would've given him too much shit if you'd been stuck with... with..."
Members' names are apparently too hard to say.
Kawai pats his back consolingly on the way past. "Morning, guys."
"Afternoon."
"Saa~" Goseki shrugs. "The path of least resistance. Old Tomoyuki's good at that."
Kawai raises an eyebrow, unpacking his makeup case. "You have no right calling anyone old."
"Neither do you," Goseki grins.
"Touché," Kawai snickers. "Tottsu can do it."
"Old Tomoyuki's good at that," Totsuka says, serene as he strums his guitar.