Title: Booby Encounter
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: RYoko or Nishikido/Yokoyama, only as friends though
Summary: Yokoyama had to relax and loosen up from his work and his bandmates decidedly approached the matter.
Prompt: Idol Rule #3724: Don't ask girls their cup size for Team AU
Warnings: heavy usage of booze.
Notes: This is pure crack and I am so against those evil models who voted against Yoko. Burn them.
Going to a nightclub was never an option for Yokoyama Yuu to relax after a long day at work. Maybe, even a week. Or, probably, a month. Okay, maybe, more, but it still never occurred to Yoko that such doubtful places could really help anyone relax after months of exhausting concerts and requiring inhuman steadfastness family meetings.
So, it was a shock for the poor guy when his dearest bandmates decidedly approached a question of how to make working-like-a-horse-Yoko enjoy himself and have some good quality time. Which couldn’t include everlasting marathons of playing games at any rate, when one gorilla-like Murakami Shingo went wrestling him in order to get the gameboy out of his desperately squeezing hands. The battle ended with a smashed into smithereens electronic toy, one sulking and smartening Yoko and turbulent Hina, who had the guts to stop his tantrum only when Maruyama lovingly seized his own dumbbells.
And now, Yokoyama Yuu was sat in front of his six friends, staring at them wide-eyedly and feeling like he should be scared by the motherly looks all six had on their faces. He blinked at them and flinched when Baru forced a dreadful smile and started, in a strained voice.
- You, Yoko, must not be scared… We wish only the best for you, that’s why we all are here now… yeah, - the little speech died down and an awkward pause hung over the shifting from foot to foot people in the room. Then Baru shot Hina a telling glare and pulled a no less expressive grimace, that could indicate either that the guy was suffering from some severe stomachaches or that he wanted Murakami to speak up. As always. At that, Hina cleared his throat a little too loudly, making everyone in the room cringe, and reasoned.
- Basically, we want you to get smashed, - the guys rolled his eyes at him and Yasuda painfully elbowed him in the side, so Murakami continued. - Meaning, we thought it would be great for you to relax, have a change of the setting, have a drink, well… go to some club!
- Club?! - Yoko stared at their friends with an arched brow, his mouth hanging open. His second reaction was to start laughing audibly, the echo resounding in the otherwise quiet dressing room. But as he couldn’t find any hint of joking in his bandmates’ faces, he sneered, disbelieving. - You suggest me visiting a club?! Me, of all people?
But he didn’t have time to put up his reasoning as Yasu leaned forward, pouting at him, with that kicked-puppy expression expertly put on his childish face. Yoko narrowed his eyes suspiciously. That was a sly attack.
- Yoko-chan, don’t look like we’re instigating you to join a cult. We just noticed how hard you work lately and almost never rest, so we discussed it a little bit and Hina-chan decided…
- Hina-chan?! Murakami, we need to have a talk, - Yoko threw a stern look at his friend who just rolled his eyes and growled in reply, shaking his hands around like windmills.
- Quiet! We’re being serious here! You need to relax so today Ryo takes you to some night club. Decided.
And with everyone nodding their heads vigorously, Yoko tried to laugh again, still hoping it was another stupid joke of the guys or some strange new show set up by producers. But as Yasu started chirpily asking Ryo if he could take him next time too, and Baru quite painfully pinched his cheeks, wiping his teary eyes, mumbling something on the lines that “his boy’s all grown up now”, Yoko understood how seriously fucked up that all was. He was fucked, for the matter.
But the last blow was presented by Nishikido who stepped to him and granted him with his best smile, his pearly white teeth almost shinning under the dressing room’s daylight lamps. That was when Yoko thought being punished by getting dirtied in flour on ‘Kanpani’ is not the worst thing ever. And it was the first time in his life when Yokoyama really had nothing to say; he just facepalmed and nodded when Maru approached him with an orange necktie and a smile that showed off his cheerful dimples and Okura made sure to give him instructions in the most conspicuous voice.
*
Yoko had always had this clear picture of clubs from what he had seen in movies; too loud music, not really dressed girls, drunk guys and, of course, the sea of wickedly twirling bodies drowning deeper anyone who tried to get out on his own. And the real picture turned out to be even worse, smelling of cigarettes and sweat and indulging him to run and get all party-like at home as he stepped inside one of such places, cringing. Not really getting amused by that, the guy gaped at his sides, wishing the girls would have more fabric on and men were a bit more pristine in their dance moves when Nishikido kicked him further down the corridor. He was flinching all way through the dancing crowd as Ryo pulled him by his sleeve to the bar stand and completely lost his patience when Nishikido threw a glass of something translucent in his hands, smiling wickedly.
- So, this is what you, mortals, call a club?! I don’t like it here, let’s go back, Ryo! - He shouted to the man who just waved him off pretending he couldn’t hear due to the loud beat and, as an example for his friend, drained a full glass in one go. Doubtful, Yoko looked at the liquid inside his own cup, and then shrugged it off thinking that it couldn’t lead to anything disastrous just yet. Looking quite troubled, he totally failed to notice Ryo’s eyes burning holes in him as he took a huge gulp from the glass and then some fireworks suddenly exploded behind his closed eyelids. Yoko wobbled.
- Woah… What the hell is this stuff? ‘S strong, - he gasped out, grabbing his belly and making puke sounds while Ryo pulled him up, laughing and feeling all peaceful in the common for him atmosphere.
- That’s vodka, dummyhead, - Ryo hugged still cringing Yoko by his shoulders, sighing loudly, breathing in the club’s stuffy air as a wide devilish smile spread on his face, his black eyes searching for some hot girls inside the crowd. - Here it is; the scent of real nightlife, Yoko. Aren’t you interested in trying it at least once? It can be fun, really! Loosen up, friend.
Ryo shook Yoko vigorously in his embrace while at the same shoving another glass of some amber liquid in his hands as he sipped on his own cup joyfully. But Yoko wasn’t feeling relaxed at all; his armpits were getting sweaty due to the room being poorly ventilated and his shirt was constantly sticking to his skin; the loud music was pressing annoyingly onto his tympanic membranes and his head felt like it would burst any minute.
Besides, he wanted to go wee-wee and that wasn’t high-lightening his mood either. So, Yoko sulked.
- But I’d better try and relax at home; it’s not really my hobby to get humped by unfamiliar people in the crowd of sweaty sticky zombies. And don’t you roll your eyes at me, Ryo - I’m your senior, actually, and…
- Yoko, when was the last time you got laid? Mine was last weekend, and yours? - Yoko narrowed his eyes at the so familiar sadistic glint in Nishikido’s eyes and pursed his lips, uncomfortable about this whole theme Nishikido so suddenly chose to talk about. Those were oh so wavering waters. So he almost pouted but restrained himself as some unconvincing gibberish left his mouth.
- I, well… But, this morning I…
- Yoko, I got a boner this morning too, everyone does, - Ryo rolled his eyes at him and this time Yoko snorted, pissed at his bandmate’s behavior. So what, if he wasn’t a party person and preferred sitting at home playing games to dancing like a monkey to some crappy music. Yeah, he was so totally not cool, but that wasn’t making him any worse than Ryo. And he decidedly refused to understand why all the women thought he was somehow “tiresome” or that he was “already only dealing with himself” when they had that annoying survey’s results shown to them on Heyx3. He could act as cute as puppies in the shop! He had a sense of humor measuring Mt Fuji, and he… simply… had such a big heart waiting for someone to..!
- I need to pee. I hope when I’m back you won’t sign me up to a circus or something even more “relaxing”. I think I won’t endure another adventure of such kind. And remember that I see through all of your shenanigans, Nishikido.
- Certain thing. Be sure to get back on time; I see beautiful ladies floating our way and I think it’s the right time for them to moor, - Ryo growled at the last word, totally checking the giggling girls up when Yoko just arched his brow on him, mumbling.
- For a sexy Osaka man as you call yourself so insistently, you’ve got pretty lame pick-up lines, dude.
And under the killing glare of wounded Osakan, Yoko marched for the searches of the restroom. As he carefully and unhurriedly moved along the wall, time and again running into making out couples, disapprovingly shaking his head at them, he thought of Ryo’s words. Really, when was the last time he had a date? A real date? An evening when he was acting as a gentleman, booking a place at a restaurant, where he would push up her stool and talk intelligently and be all smart and charming, so she wouldn’t have another choice but go to his place for a cup of morning coffee served in bed? He had always been sure that his time would eventually come; he didn’t try to find a girlfriend, with surrounding women not really appealing to him. But now Yokoyama was in doubt. Do girlfriends come naturally, or a male individual should somehow work to get one?
He tried to remember all the programs about animals he had seen on Discovery; he thought of birds and fish which attracted hens with appearances and dances, tigers and lions which only fought with each other and never asked she-lions and she-tigers which of them they preferred more. He even thought of he-sharks which, if he remembered clearly, were biting their she-sharks till those decided at last to have sex with them. Yoko doubted that’d work in his case, though. But eventually, everyone got to date. But him. And that fact made Yoko so sad to the point where he missed the urinal and his frustrated urine got on the white tiled wall accompanied by a side-glare from his neighbor.
Suddenly getting determined to find himself some decent and cute little girl who he’d be able to take out on the dates and who would burst out modulating giggling at his lamest jokes, Yoko sprang out of toilet, humming to some unobtrusive song which was played on the dance floor.
That evening, Yokoyama Yuu was willing to live his life to the fullest.
As he got inside one of the VIP rooms after having wandered for twenty minutes in search of his stray bandmate, he was astonished to see Ryo sharing a drink with one beautiful girl whilst the other one sat aside from the couple, clearly sulking, not amused by seeing her friend have fun with Ryo and be so openly suggestive. Just then, Yoko gulped and felt like he should really get rid of the orange necktie because the left out girl was kind of hot; one tanned leg put carelessly atop the other as her small black shoe dangled in the air and her small fingers constantly toyed with the fringe on her chest. And though the girl’s face wasn’t really distinguishable under three tons of make-up she had on her face, still, her most prominent part was way lower; her low-necked white dress accentuated her tan and huge bosom in every possible way. Tightly squeezed together, two breasts were slightly jiggling in time with each of her motions and the cleavage was covered in tiny beads of perspiration, as he noticed, seating next to her, smiling goofily.
- Oh, here’s my friend! At last, took you long enough, or I thought you really did join a circus or something,
- Ryo glared at him but Yoko only shrugged, not noticing anything else but two globes of flesh put into such a cramped space of her dress; the icy stare melted as Nishikido took the big-breasted girl’s hand and smiled at her endearingly. - This is Kimitaka.
Yoko’s eyes widened when he understood that Ryo was using his real name as a screen and panicked, trying to imagine with what nick Ryo could come up for himself. He had been wondering about this from the very start, not knowing if he should tell girls that he was from JE or if he should play dumb and just pretend to be some random guy from the street. Now, it turned out that they were using the second plan. Yoko smiled excitedly, feeling like some Japanese James Bond in disguise.
- Oh, Ryohei-kun, he is kind of cute! Just like you promised, - the girl flirted, batting her unnaturally long eyelashes at him and Yoko frowned feeling left out; he grabbed her arm then and pulled, arresting her attention by shoving some cup into her hand.
- Well, let’s party! - He shouted, embracing her shoulders and they clank glasses; cautiously, she sipped only a small amount of liquid and stared at him, slightly thrown off guard by how hungrily he drained his glass in one go.
*
Not one to handle his alcohol for too long, soon Yokoyama seemed to be tipsier than anyone else on that party. And if he tried judging by the saying “If you can’t tell who is the most drunk person on the party, then it’s
- you”, there was no doubt - Yoko was smashed.
He giggled as he grabbed his umpteenth glass of beer, not actually listening to the buzz that filled the room.
The smell of perfume mixed with cigarettes tickled his nostrils as he felt the need to breathe in some much needed air but he was afraid to let those two constantly jiggling breasts out of his view; he was somehow sure they would try give it a run if he left. Some unfamiliar people flooded the room, and Yoko only had time to distinguish Nishikido’s nosey face inside the crowd and he was able to relax again.
The girl started talking about something animatedly, explaining him why she liked some particular pop group; if Yoko cared enough to actually pay attention to her and not her cleavage and booze in front of him, he’d hear such familiar words as “Osaka”, “Murakami-kun” and “very sexy Nishikido”.
- But I don’t like that guy, you know, Yokohama or Yokoyama, don’t remember exactly. He’s so annoying. His constant babbling always irritates me on the programs, - Yoko stilled half-way drinking from his cup, his eyes glassy. He shot her a frown and wondered, loud enough for the whole VIP room to hear and Ryo - facepalm, why exactly she hated that peace-loving guy. The girl stared at him, obviously dumbfounded that he suddenly decided to open his mouth. - Oh, don’t worry, Taka-kun; though, first few minutes you were constantly reminding me of him, now I’m sure that there’s no way you two can be compared.
And with that she smiled at him, squeezing his sweaty hand in her tiny one, and Nishikido had almost sighed in relief, but Yoko was already too far gone to think straight.
- Well, sorry for being so annoying! By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask the whole evening - is it your natural size or one day aliens flew and made them that big? - And as if in slow motion his fingers squeezed one warm globe, as out of the corner of his eye he saw scandalized Nishikido running to his rescue, while a heavy hand collided with his cheek making him stumble back and collapse onto the floor, unconscious from all the drunk liquor and overwhelming emotions.
*
He felt himself move as someone nudged his shoulder hard making Yokoyama hiss. He tried to lift his arm but every limb seemed to have fallen off during his unconsciousness. He whimpered, trying to remembered if he had recently gotten under any bombing, but couldn’t - his head one solid and cloudy mess.
- I’m never taking you out with me again, - someone grumbled under his breath and Yoko chuckled, his throat incredibly itchy due to excessive dryness.
- Oh, thank you; I think I’ve had enough with just one evening.
He continued lying on the hard floor, somehow knowing that if he tried to stand, he would result in crashing the ground again. He didn’t open his eyelids, sensing that the lights were too strong for his bloodshot eyes at the moment but he just knew that Nishikido hung over him somewhere, the man’s presence comforting him and words sounding as if through speakers.
- I’m sorry it all turned out like this. I just didn’t know you’d be drinking so much. Now I feel responsible for your behavior and for everything that happened.
Yoko nodded, smirking, and heard the near click of Nishikido’s lighter as smoking fumes hit him in the nostrils moments later. There were some strange rustling and then Ryo’s hand pressed against his arm as they lay there tiredly on the floor, together side by side.
- I had fun, Ryo, really. I felt myself as if I was some kind of James Bond, who picked up girls under a fake name… Only that was my real name, actually, - the boy laughed, coughing like crazy a second later and thinking that a cup of water wouldn’t do him any bad right now.
- You should see you face - there’s, like, a whole red palm on your cheek; would look hilarious only if I didn’t know that it’d be a bitch tomorrow morning, - Ryo hoarsed out, cringing at the slowly standing up nasty imprint on his left cheek.
- Well, maybe, it’s time for a new trend in Johnny’s - a red palm mark on your face, - they both chuckled at the thought, imagining all the Juniors actually trying it on. - I bet if it was Kimura-san who got it - it could become really popular.
They burst out drunken giggling that soon outgrew into uncontrollable roars of laughter, as Ryo repeatedly hit on the floor with his fist, trying to get over the laughing fit and Yoko coughed like crazy, still laughing.
Soon, then, the thought stopped being that amusing and they stilled again, occasionally giggling and wiping their teary eyes.
- But, fuck, dude, you really touched that breast, -Ryo spoke hoarsely into his ear, seemingly excited by that thought. - So how did it feel? Her boob, I mean…
- Firm like a warm and squishy pillow, yet pliant.
- Nice.
And Ryo let out another cloud of smoke, lost in his own thoughts about what had happened that evening, while Yoko just lay there, the urge to puke too distinct to be still ignored sooner or later.
That day, he felt alive like no one else did.
Poll Team Present