Gift fic for pithetaphish
To: pithetaphish
From: tokyostory
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: Postcodes
Pairing/Group: Jin/Kame (KAT-TUN)
Rating: R
Warnings: Some sexual content, rude language
Notes: None
Summary: Happy Holidays pithetaphish! I really hope you enjoy your fic!
“Move in with me,” Jin says. It takes Kame by surprise and so he doesn't say anything at first. He's breathing too hard to form words, anyway, which makes Jin grin that grin that makes Kame want to do everything he says. It's all very dangerous and as Jin rolls off and flops down onto the sheets, Kame marvels at his total lack of intimidation.
As he tries to fall asleep, Kame tries to rationalize the request in roughly one hundred ways. It's easy to do, not just because Kame is good at rationalizing, but because Jin's suggestions are often fairly bad ideas.
That and after a lot of wine and a lot of afternoon sex (Kame's favourite) and what with it being very cold and Jin being very post-coital, there's a lot of rationalizing that should be done. After all, all of this means that listening to Jin would be distinctly unwise.
The only problem is that when Jin said it, it was a huff of breath all over Kame's collarbone. Through the night when he wakes he tosses and turns - touches his skin and feels the words there.
He wakes after an unsteady night's sleep to another cold December morning. The weather outside is frightfully cold and Jin is, somewhat ironically, behaving like a turtle. Kame resents having to get up when it's still dark but he is more respectful of the alarm clock than Jin. When it rattles, he reaches out and smacks it. Lies back, stretches until he yawns and then studies the Jin-duvet-mountain beside him.
“Jin,” he says.
“No,” Jin mumbles. “Not available. Ring back later.”
Kame frowns. Then, he stretches again and hauls himself out of bed. He's cruel enough to toss his side of the duvet over Jin, who makes a ragged sound in his throat and turns over, tugging the duvet back around himself. He's cruel enough to watch it, too, amused.
“You're going to be late,” he says, as he wanders through to the bathroom.
“Okay,” Jin says, agreeably.
Kame's bathroom is logically organised and that too is a reason not to move in with Jin. Jin is not only incapable of getting up within an hour of being woken, he also regards his bathroom as a dumping ground. In Kame's bathroom, things have a proper place. It means that when he stumbles in there in the morning, he can grab his toothbrush with his eyes closed. In Jin's bathroom, he'd reach out for his toothbrush and end up holding a plastic lightsabre.
He's in the shower by the time Jin crashes in, rubbing his eyes. They don't have boundaries. Kame did, once - six years of sharing rooms with Jin seems to have eroded them. He doesn't bat an eyelid as Jin stumbles around in the background. When he finally opens his eyes, soap running down his back, Jin is standing looking at him.
“What,” he says, lazily. “Wait your turn. I got up earlier. That means I get first use of the hot-”
Jin frowns back and then, discarding of his sweatpants, climbs into the shower.
Kame fixes him with a look. “Brat,” he says, but there isn't any bite in it. Jin just grins.
“Shampoo,” he says.
Kame leans down and grabs the stuff he always gives Jin - the stuff they pick up in hotels. That Koki ribs him about because with what they're worth, collecting free hotel shampoo bottles is a ridiculous habit. Kame can't seem to help it.
Jin takes it and rubs it into his hair.
“I don't like your expensive shit anyway,” he says. “It makes me smell like a girl.”
Kame ignores him and tilts his neck to the spray, his eyes lidding. “You could just bring your own shampoo,” he says. “Only I wouldn't give you attention that way.”
“Good point,” Jin says. “I must remember to forget my clothes next time.”
“It's not like you use them when you're here,” Kame says, shaking his hair out and leaving Jin to the spray.
Jin stands under it, shrugging his shoulders with the warmth of the water. “Mm,” he says. “Fuck, that's good.”
“Shut up,” Kame says, climbing out. “I'm not going to give you a blowjob.”
Jin cracks open one eye. “Did I ask for one?”
“You did the sex voice,” Kame says.
Jin just laughs, closes his eyes. “I need some new strategies,” he says. “You're catching on too fast.”
“You could just stop being slutty,” Kame says. “Wait, fuck, did I just say that?”
“Apparently,” Jin says. “Leave me a towel.”
“One towel,” Kame says. “And hurry up - if we're late anyway and I didn't get to give you a blowjob, I'm gonna be really pissed. If you're going to get rid of that, be quick about it.”
He closes the door behind him. Behind it, Jin is laughing. Kame narrows his eyes and walks through back into the bedroom, toweling his hair. It calms him, to be there. It's his space. Uncluttered, neutral, it flows. Kame studies his reflection in the mirror as he dries his hair, the colour of the bedsheets, the photograph on the wall. Everything he knows, everything steady and static and right.
Jin's bedroom is littered with dirty magazines, strange combini toys and clothes. Mountains and mountains of clothes. It isn't uncluttered, neutral or flowing. Another reason not to move in with Jin - Jin could make clutter out of Kame's few possessions. Jin can make clutter out of anything. Only when Jin comes out the shower and his skin is warm and his hair and eyes are dark - when he leans down and throws a vest on and it clings, just so, Kame thinks about it. Really thinks about it.
Kame's place is easier for them when they're working, it's more central. Jin lives a bit further out, it's quieter and his apartment is bigger. He has more stuff, needs more space. Kame's apartment wasn't made for two people. And yet with Jin in it, it seems bigger. It seems warmer. They brush around each other because the rooms aren't large enough to accommodate them both. In the morning, they share the sink. Kame finds himself showering with Jin more often than not - through choice, not necessity. And he gets to watch Jin get dressed in the morning, whether Jin knows he's doing it or not.
Kame drives them to work in the morning and sometimes the photographers are there, sometimes not. It's something they're both used to now, something they no longer let affect them. Jin stretches out in the car and puts the radio on, loud enough to drown out the sound of the camera flashes outside.
“Apparently you're feuding again,” Junno says, reading the tabloids over coffee. They're doing interviews and photoshoots and performances in their sleep at the moment, publicity for the new single. Junno likes to read the gossip about Jin and Kame, delights in embarrassing them with it. A revenge strategy of sorts.
Kame just grunts at him, heading for some breakfast. Jin stretches out on the sofa in the dressing room and regards Junno with a baleful expression.
“What are we fighting about this time?” he asks. “Did we both reach for the same designer boots in the department store?”
“Close,” Junno says. “Apparently you're arguing over costumes. You both wanted to wear the same clothes for the PV and now you're arguing over everything you wear for the publicity performances.”
“Like Kame's clothes would even fit me,” Jin says.
“Yep,” Kame says, handing Jin some coffee and a piece of toast. Jin looks at Kame's croissant and then up at Kame. Kame doesn't blink. “You just said it,” he says. “You need to be on a diet. No croissants for you.”
Junno looks at them both. “If they knew you only fight about croissants, they'd be mortified,” he says.
Jin settles for tearing bits off Kame's croissant and eating them with a gleeful look on his face. Kame lets him, because he knows Jin feels stolen food tastes better than any other kind - and, well, it's a strange pleasure to have Jin coveting his things.
“We don't just fight about croissants,” Jin argues. “We fight about all sorts.”
“No, you don't,” Junno says, shrugging. “You're like a married couple. You just grumble. You don't fight anymore. You're getting old. We're all getting old.”
“Who's getting old?” Koki says, walking in and slinging his bag down on the table.
“Them,” Junno says. “Kame won't let Jin eat croissants. Says he needs to go on a diet.”
Koki studies them both. “You sad bastards,” he says, eventually. “Fuck, I'll call you a taxi. You can go straight to the church.”
“Hah,” Jin says. “He won't move in with me. I think marriage is out of the question.”
Kame glares at him. “I didn't say I wouldn't,” he says. “And you're considering marriage?”
“Sure,” Jin says. “You could be my little housewife. It'd be nice.”
Kame takes his toast from him and eats it.
“Don't move in with him,” Maru says, nodding at Jin. “You know when we saw WALL-E? That big trash dump is his bedroom. You'd have to be WALL-E, clearing it all up for years and years and years.”
“KAM-E,” Junno says.
“I'm not moving in with anybody,” Kame says. “The press would have a field day.”
Jin looks up, watches Kame eating his toast. “So?” he says. “What do we care? They know we go to work together. For all they know we're already living together.”
“I'd make you tidy things,” Kame says. “I'd make you clean, Jin. You'd have to stop living like a teenager.”
“Fine,” Jin says. “I'm into sharing out domestic tasks. Always said I wouldn't expect my wife to do all the chores.”
“If you don't stop calling me that,” Kame says. “You really will be feuding with me.”
Jin sighs, looking up at him with enormous eyes. “Kame,” he says. “Kame, Kame, Kame. Haven't you worked this aggression out yet? How many more taxi drivers do you need to-”
“Don't move in with him,” Maru says, shaking his head. “You'll kill each other and we'll be T-TUN.”
“T-T-T-T-Tun,” Koki says. “Has a ring to it.”
“I'm not moving in with anybody,” Kame says, holding a cushion over Jin's head. “Least of all you.”
They spend the night at Jin's. Jin has a drawer set out for Kame's stuff - which is more than Kame has done for him in return. Despite himself, Kame finds that he likes spending time at Jin's. It isn't just the impression of more space but being around things that are familiar. Clothes he's seen Jin wearing, magazines they read together on planes, Jin's favourite music, the way he pounds around the apartment looking for things he's lost.
Kame even has a favoured chair at Jin's apartment. He tends to sit in it when they come in, while Jin gets changed, starts making something to eat, hooks his iPod up to his stereo. Kame stares at the mess, puts his feet up on the coffee table beside the six mugs and the collection of books and magazines.
“You need a maid,” he says.
“The outfit turns me on,” Jin says, from the bedroom. “You offering?”
“No,” Kame says. “What's for dinner?”
“Whatever's in the cupboard,” Jin says, grinning.
“Of course,” Kame says.
They eat and they have beer. Jin has a big kitchen but they don't use the table. They sit on the sofa and Kame watches the news while Jin watches him. Kame stretches himself out, agreeably putting his head on Jin's shoulder. They bunch up together like cats, cold in winter.
“I can't wait for summer,” Jin complains.
“You always say that,” Kame says. “Then when it's summer, you complain that it's too hot.”
“True,” Jin says. “At least I'm consistent.”
“Hah,” Kame says. “I like winter.”
“I know,” Jin says. “You like Christmas. You're the only person I know who does.”
“I thought you did,” Kame says.
“It's okay,” Jin says. “I like anything that combines family, friends, food and presents. But it's pretty stressful. Pi hates it - that makes me feel bad.”
“It'll get easier,” Kame says. “He's just...lonely. Things change when you get less lonely.”
“I guess so,” Jin says.
“What do you want for Christmas?” Kame asks.
Jin leans back, grinning. “You in a maid's outfit,” he says.
“Shut up,” Kame says. “I'm serious.”
“So am I,” Jin says.
“Jin,” Kame says.
“Alright, alright,” Jin says. “Fuck. Er...I'm thinking Scalextric is out of the question?”
Kame toes off his shoes. “I don't care,” he says. “It's your apartment. If you want to cover it with race track, that's fine by me.”
“Okay,” Jin says, happily. “I meant what I said, though, you know. About moving in with me. It could be your apartment, too.”
Kame looks at him, tilting his beer to his lips. “I like my apartment,” he says. “Why can't we move into my apartment?”
“You're agreeing to this now?”
“No,” Kame says. “Just hypothetically.”
Jin screws his face up. “Your apartment is a shoebox,” he says. “I'd have to sell everything I own.”
“That's a bonus,” Kame says.
“Oi,” Jin says. “Fuck you. My apartment is bigger. More room for us both.”
“Mine's closer to work,” Kame argues.
“Mine doesn't have the press outside it,” Jin says.
“Not now it doesn't,” Kame says. “You've not had it long. Give it a month. Mine's closer to the city. Closer to everything. If you want to go clubbing, you'd have to drive there.”
“Taxis,” Jin says. “Oh, wait, that's a problem for you now, isn't it.”
Kame smacks his shoulder and Jin tussles with him, both laughing. Jin has a kind of drunken strength that Kame can't compete with, so he ends up on his back. Jin presses between his thighs, holding his hands down. Kame tilts his chin up at him, jutting out his jaw.
“Mine has a nicer bed,” he says.
Jin narrows his eyes. “You could bring the bed with you,” he says.
“You'd have to tidy up,” Kame says. “I'm not living in this place like this - it's like a playground. It's like stepping stones trying to navigate the place.”
“Adventurous,” Jin says, leaning down and suckling on Kame's throat. “Unpredictable. Sexy.”
“Messy,” Kame says, but he reaches up and touches the nape of Jin's neck. “Falling over in the morning, tripping over things. Clothes all creased and me nagging-”
Jin works a hand into Kame's jeans and Kame doesn't feel he can say anything more. He can feel the edges of Jin's teeth as he pushes his hips up into his hand, a thick tickle running through his blood.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses. “Fuck, don't stop.”
“Is that a yes?” Jin murmurs, in his ear.
“No,” Kame says, not without force.
To his credit, Jin doesn't stop, all the same. He's learnt over the years the value of a long game.
Over the course of the week, Jin starts leaving post-it notes on Kame's fridge. At first, Kame doesn't notice it. In the morning, he doesn't even turn the lights on when he makes coffee - he knows where everything is without using his eyes (another advantage, of course, to not moving into Jin's apartment). By midweek, all of his mugs seem to have been misplaced, so he's forced to turn the lights on.
'My place has more mugs', the post-it reads.
Kame frowns at it.
“Jin,” he says, walking back into his bedroom. Jin is dozing, on his front, feet sticking out delightedly from the duvet. He's wriggling his toes. It's obnoxiously charming.
“Nn,” Jin says. “Is this about the mugs.”
“I am not moving in with you because of your mug collection,” Kame says.
“Fuck, really?” Jin says, turning over and opening his eyes. “I thought you'd go for that. You're so practical.”
“I'm not...” Kame glares at him. “I'm not fifty years old. I'm not dating you because of your range of coffee utensils.”
“Fair enough,” Jin says. “You're refusing to move in with me because of my lack of...cleaning utensils, though. So, you know, it stands to reason that if I had more utensils you might be more tempted.”
“Your brain frightens me,” Kame says. “And you're late. Again.”
“When we live together,” Jin says. “It means we're late. And because you're you, everybody assumes that you must have gotten diverted doing something really important. Not just, y'know, giving out blowjobs or having a wank or whatever. So I'm by association a more responsible person.”
“That's why you want to move in with me?”
Jin stares at him. “Well, obviously not, idiot. Did you not hear me say 'giving out blowjobs'?”
“You want to move in with me so I can suck you off more frequently? I don't do that enough for you as it currently stands?”
“This isn't going well, is it.”
“No.”
“I want to move in with you because I like spending time with you,” Jin says. “Blowjobs are, er, a small part of that. A big part, obviously, I'm not...small. Yeah. But...yeah. Uh.”
Kame looks at him.
“I love you?” Jin grins.
Kame folds his arms, but he's smiling. “Go and get dressed,” he says.
“Do I get a blowjob this morning?” Jin says, getting up, tugging the sheet around him. He's all worn from sleep and fluffy, just the way Kame likes him. “I think I deserve one, for being so effortlessly charming.”
“No,” Kame says. “You can give me one, for being so fucking obnoxious.”
“Okay,” Jin says, happily.
In the dressing rooms, Junno keeps setting up Christmas decorations. Kame revels in having done all of his shopping already - he knows that Jin and Maru will get around to it in January or so. December is usually a good month for them. Busy, but everybody feels festive. Gearing up to a new year, a year for changes, a fresh start. So much to be thankful for.
He tries to take this mood with him into their performances. Their Christmas song isn't the most festive piece of music in the world and a part of Kame feels sad that they weren't able to do something happier.
When asked about it, he nods enthusiastically, declares White X'mas to be KAT-TUN's best single yet.
“It's a sad song, though,” the interviewers always say. “It's about being lonely at Christmas. Have you ever felt alone at Christmas?”
Kame doesn't think he has, ever. He knows that he should be able to relate to the audience, the people who spend each Christmas with their regrets and their emotional hangovers. Christmas is the time of year he likes best. A time of love, of being squashed between family, lovers, friends. A time of snow and people holding hands.
He doesn't want to say this, so what he says instead sounds false, sounds strange coming out of his mouth.
“After the video finishes,” Jin says, when he stops. “I think all the girls did turn up in the end. We didn't really get stood up. They were just late because of all the discount shopping going on at the moment...”
“You're a bastard,” Koki says, laughing and running into Jin's back as they leave the studio. “You shouldn't tease people like that.”
“He has a point,” Kame says. “It's all a bit morbid.”
Koki pulls a face. “I think it shows our emotional range,” he says. “And we got to act in the PV.”
“Some of us got to try,” Ueda says, pointedly.
“I think I need to do some discount shopping myself,” Junno says. “Kame, are you sure you don't want socks?”
“Yes,” Kame says, patiently. “Why does everybody think I'm fifty years old?”
He finds it hard to sleep with it still on his mind. The difficulty of being in a relationship is that it throws light on you as a person. As a personality, with all of your dark spots, your personal stains. Kame has considered his long relationship with Jin as something related to their job, their world - the stress of it, the crazy rollercoaster. He loves Jin in ways he can't even begin to understand but for some reason, he always held back. The fear of what his heart could do to the work his head has helped build, he supposes. The risk involved in feeling too much.
It startles him that Jin is so reckless with his heart and his head. When things got too much for both, he went to LA. He came back full of American sunshine. Kame can't imagine doing something like that and yet it made things better. Smoother. They fought less and less after Jin returned. The papers relied on making things up, bored with the lack of real meat to go on.
“You've lived with a girl, right?” he whispers to Koki. They're on the bus travelling for their show and everybody else is fast asleep. It's the middle of the night and Kame knows that he should be, too, only his head won't let him. His heart won't let him. And Koki is playing with his DS, so clearly he too has things on his mind.
“Yeah,” Koki says, flicking his eyes up over the console. “Why?”
“Did it make your relationship better or worse?”
Koki considers this, flipping the lid down on his game. “Better,” he says. “More intimate. It's a commitment. Anything that brings you closer together is good if the relationship is good. If it's crap to begin it with then obviously, moving in together probably wouldn't help.”
Kame nods, staring out of the window. Sometimes, he wishes he could screw his gut into a ball, the way that Jin does. Just feel and know and do.
“What scares you about it?” Koki says.
Kame shrugs, looking back at him. “Everything,” he says. “The only person he's lived with is Pi. Pi is just like him. Everybody Jin lives with is just like him - and I'm just. I'm so. I have to have things a certain way. I don't like giving things up. Space, time, possessions. Ways of doing things. I can't imagine just giving that up.”
Koki rubs his chin. “Doesn't make you happy, though,” he says. “All your routine.”
“No,” Kame says. “Probably not.”
“Look, he says what he thinks. He does what he thinks. He's not stupid - anybody like that knows what they're getting into. If he wants to move in with you, then he knows all that already and he's not bothered. Don't worry about it so much.”
“Are you just saying that because you're in the middle of battling...who is it?”
“The Elite Four,” Koki says, sheepishly. “No. Obviously not. But, er, if I were, it doesn't make it less true. Stop deflecting.”
“Okay,” Kame says. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome,” Koki says. “You told me last Christmas you wanted stuff in your life to change. Now you have a chance, so remember that.”
The theory of living with Jin is difficult for Kame to come around to, but with Christmas spirit in mind he decides to embrace change in his life. Swallowing down trepidation, he decides to test out the theory by staying at Jin's for a whole week. He doesn't explicitly set this out for Jin, nor does Jin admit that he knows what's up. Instead, they both pretend that nothing out of the ordinary is going on. When Kame asks certain delicate questions, Jin is happy to play along.
“You don't have a pinboard,” Kame says. “Why not?”
He's lying on Jin, so Jin isn't really paying attention. He's curling a lock of Kame's hair around his thumb and forefinger, trying to make it stand on end.
“A what,” he says.
“A pinboard,” Kame says. “To put useful things on.”
“Like what?” Jin asks.
“Like telephone numbers,” Kame suggests. “Or appointments. For if your dog needs emergency vet treatment or...takeaway menus or...you know. Taxi firms.”
Jin gives him a look.
“Okay,” Kame says. “Not taxi firms. Just things. Useful things. When there's a crisis, where do you find the telephone numbers you need?”
Jin is still giving him a look.
“This isn't a me thing,” Kame says. “Koki has a pinboard.”
“You're both girls,” Jin says. “Pinboards aren't manly. I have an address book.”
“Where?” Kame asks.
“In the hall.”
“That's not an address book,” Kame says. “That's a pile of menus and phonebooks.”
“Same sort of thing,” Jin says. He's moved his hand to Kame's neck, just under his chin. Kame tries not to give him the satisfaction of squirming.
“It's not the same thing,” Kame says.
“It's like a pinboard without pins,” Jin says.
“It isn't like that at all,” Kame says. “Mm. Lower.”
Jin looks pleased and runs his hand down Kame's spine. Under his t-shirt, where Kame's skin is warm. Undulation runs through Kame's body.
“The important things are all in my head, anyway,” Jin says.
“Mmn,” Kame says. “Not much room in there.”
Jin smacks him and narrows his eyes. When Kame opens them, he's pulling a rather ridiculous petulant face, which he keeps up until Kame leans down and kisses his collarbone. It's Jin's turn then to resist the urge to wriggle.
“Have you finished interviewing me now?” Jin says, with a grin. He grabs Kame's fingers away and starts to nibble on them, totally undermining Kame's attempt at being serious. “I promise I'd make an excellent housemate. I cook, I...sometimes clean and I accept sex instead of rent payments.”
“I'm not interviewing,” Kame says. “Just asking questions.”
“Can you possibly live with somebody who doesn't own a pinboard?” Jin says, amused. “Important issues indeed.”
“Funny,” Kame says. “You don't complain about my multi-tasking ability when I've got your cock in my mouth and my fingers-”
“Heh, true,” Jin says, nodding. “There are advantages to you. And advantages to me, yeah?”
“I suppose so,” Kame says. “What you lack in pinboards you make up in fantastic blowjobs.”
“There you go,” Jin says, delightedly. He's stopped nibbling and started gently sucking. When he talks his lips move around Kame's skin. “Another good housemate skill.”
“If I move in with you,” Kame says. “I'm bringing my pinboard.”
“Fine,” Jin says. “I think I could get used to it. Anything important goes on the very public pinboard, I understand. Lots of notes from Jin to Kame, detailing all sorts of very important matters such as who's going to fuck-”
“Alright, alright,” Kame says. “I'll bring my pinboard and you can use your stupid pyramid in the hall.”
“Are we still talking hypothetically?” Jin grins. “Your hypothetical pinboard and my hypothetical stupid pyramid? Only you said “I'll bring” not “if I bring”.”
“We're still talking hypothetically,” Kame grouches.
“Damn,” Jin says. He leans it, kissing Kame's jawline and down his neck, back up and hard on the mouth. Kame's hand moves around and into his hair and he shivers with it, delighted.
“What about now?” he says.
“Still hypothetical,” Kame says.
“You're a hard nut to crack, Kamenashi Kazuya,” Jin says.
“Mm,” Kame says. “What is it about this that you want so much?”
“You moving in with me?” Jin asks.
“Yeah,” Kame says. “Is it about the sex or what? Is it about-”
Jin tilts his head to one side. “I just like spending time with you,” he says. “That includes the sex. It isn't sex or being with somebody. They're not mutually exclusive.”
“I know,” Kame says. “I didn't mean that. I just - I'd drive you fucking crazy.”
“I already know everything there is to know,” Jin says. “Your eccentricities are charming.”
“Are they,” Kame says, sardonically. Jin is wiggling his eyebrows.
“Yes,” he says. “I love that you go all Rocky when a taxi driver pisses you off.”
“I'm never going to live that down.”
“Nope,” Jin says. “Not after all that talk of me becoming a gangster in LA. I was scared of approaching gas pump attendants. And yet you were harboring violent tendencies all along.”
“I do not have violent tendencies,” Kame says. “He wound me up.”
“I find it charming,” Jin says. “And hot.”
“You would,” Kame says.
“I find you charming,” Jin says. “I'd drive you fucking crazy right back. I figure, fuck, what have we got to lose? We've been together for five years. I think I've been suitably warned.”
Kame looks at him, shifting to get comfortable until his knee finds a warm spot and Jin grunts, pleased.
“Hm,” Kame says. “I guess I just - I don't want to be your wife. I really don't want to be the shrill person whose issues impose on your...freedom of...whatever. You know? I'm not kidding when I say I'd make you tidy up. I'm seriously not kidding.”
“Kame,” Jin says. “That's fine. I don't care. If you want me to be a housemaid, done. Just move in with me. Cook for me and supply me with blowjobs and I'll clean the bathroom with my tongue.”
“There's something wrong with you,” Kame says. “Seriously.”
“You've always known that,” Jin says. “And you're still considering moving in with me. Man, I must be really hot. Really good in bed. Somebody would be mad not to decide to live with me and have all of this hot skill on tap.”
He's grinning, the big dog-like grin that means he knows he's winning. Kame narrows his eyes at him, but it's mostly show. He leans down and kisses Jin on the mouth, deep and long until Jin's arms work around his waist. Jin tries to roll him over, tries to assert authority, but Kame decides he's having none of it. Not tonight. Not with this on his mind.
“I'm not being your wife,” he hisses, leaning down over Jin and nibbling the edge of his earlobe. “Give it up. Tonight, you're not getting your own way.”
Jin just looks at him, the hard edge of competition in his eyes and in his jaw. He's dicing things up in his mind, he can see that - Jin relents to Kame just enough to make him comfortable. And then when it counts, his competitive streak kicks back in and edges appear, edges that Kame loves to cut his teeth on. And just as Jin opens his mouth to speak, to say something stupid, Kame runs his hand up between his legs.
“Think hard before you speak,” he says, pointedly.
The week ends without too many dramas. Kame feels pleased, surprisingly so, about the progress they seem to have made. Jin lives in an organised mess, which makes it easier - there's nothing chaotic about it. Kame tries not to tidy too much, instead managing to convince Jin to do it himself. One of the advantages of Jin is that he's happy to do something once asked, as long as he isn't asked five times in quick succession. The slightest perception of repetition and he slows down altogether, rebelling against authority in a way that's distinctly childish. Luckily, it doesn't seem to get to that stage very often.
“So,” Jin says. It's morning and he's in the kitchen, dressed in a sheet. Kame sits at the breakfast bar, eating, watching him. They watch each other. “Is my probation period over?”
Kame shoves into his shoulder. “Don't you have worries?” he asks. “You must have things you worry about. Nobody is this laidback.”
Jin just laughs. “About moving in with you?”
“Yeah,” Kame says.
“No,” he says. “I wouldn't ask if I didn't want you to.”
“You wouldn't ask if it weren't important to you,” Kame says. “I think it's important to you because you want a sign of commitment.”
Jin sits down with his coffee, looking thoughtful. He has a dark inscrutable look on his face that suggests Kame is right - an expression Kame knows well.
“I've always thought about this as being something related to the band,” Kame says. “To the crazy thing we're living in. I always thought it was because we're so close, we're so physically close that it was inevitable we'd end up like this. That maybe if we'd gone into different careers...”
“We wouldn't have ended up together?”
“Yeah,” Kame says. “That maybe we are because we can't be around one another and not be together. We've been together from the moment we were...together.”
“Not in LA,” Jin says. “I left but I still wanted you. We were still together then.”
Kame thinks about this and it dawns on him that he's, for once, dead wrong. “Yeah,” he says. “That's true. I hadn't thought of that.”
Jin nods. He looks uncomfortable, almost childish. He doesn't talk about emotion easily and certainly not in the morning - he makes allowances for Kame's schedule. For Kame's everything, really, and it's no longer a way things should operate.
“My thinking this probably means I haven't given you enough commitment,” Kame continues. “I've been holding back and you've been giving in order to make us meet. And that - I'm realising that now, even talking to you. I'm seeing that maybe I haven't seemed...”
“I knew you loved me,” Jin says. “I know you love me. More than you do, maybe. You're crap at hiding things like that. So it's not like that, really. Not entirely.”
“Okay,” Kame says. “We should give this a go. We should - I mean. I know it's going to be a pain for you, because I'm a pain, but if you can cope, so will I.”
“It's not going into prison,” Jin says, with a mocking grin. “It's not preparing for battle.”
Kame looks at him. “I've never lived with anybody as an adult,” he says. “For me, this is...a big deal. I'm gonna need a bit of patience.”
“Fine,” Jin says. “You can have anything you want. You know that.”
A week later, they're interviewed by a magazine about the single, about the nature of loneliness during the festive season. It makes Kame think of Yamapi, who always says that being alone at Christmas makes being alone feel harder than it already is. The very nature of the season brings extra happiness for the happy and extra sadness for the lonely. Kame doesn't want that to be in what he sings about. It isn't something he wishes to have in his life.
“I think the song should be seen as inspirational,” he says. “We should appreciate the people around us at Christmas. If there are people in your life, you should be with them. Christmas should be that sort of time.”
“Anyway,” Jin says. “The girls all turned up in the end. They got lost and had to get taxis, and, well-”
“So,” Kame interrupts. “It all worked out fine in the end, I think is the point.”
“Of course,” Koki says. “Taxi drivers save the day once again. They're a good bunch, taxi drivers. Under-appreciated. Appreciate your taxi drivers this Christmas.”
“Yes,” Kame says, clipped. “I completely agree.”
Christmas Eve. The world outside is full of lights, full of excitement. Kame pulls up at Jin's apartment and it seems to take his car an extra second to stop, it's so full of stuff. He takes a deep breath and flexes his hands on the steering wheel. Despite everything, it was hard to make the call to his estate agent that morning. To put the apartment on the market. To finalise things.
The light is on in Jin's living room and Kame can see the curls of the tree. He opens the car door and slams it shut, hard, reaches for the boot. The air is cold outside but thankfully, he's alone. Reporters still haven't discovered this place. It might be January before they figure it out, after a couple of weeks stalking the 'for sale' signs at Kame's.
He doesn't hear the crunch of footsteps behind him until it's too late. He whirls around but Jin manages to gleefully shove a handful of snow down his jacket, all the same.
“Is this what I have to look forward to?” he says, wearily, shaking out his t-shirt and shivering.
“Absolutely,” Jin says, grinning. He's wearing a ridiculous hat with furry bits over his ears. He looks a little like he did when Kame joined the industry, when he and Jin were so stupid and so young. When they fell into something they didn't truly understand, the kissing and the touching and the total, consuming passion for one another. The fighting that came with shaping it through the years, pushing it and shoving it to keep it private and practical and right.
Kame realises in that moment that the things he has to look forward to are vast and great. Cold down his back and warm on his mouth, because in the middle of the deserted parking lot, in the middle of the snow and the lights, Jin is kissing him. And nothing else matters.
By the time Kame has trekked up the stairs with his bags and bags, he's unable to pay attention to anything except the exhaustion in his arms. Jin ducks back out of the apartment to get more luggage out of the car, which gives Kame a moment to survey his surroundings. He realises then that Jin has cleared out drawers and drawers, moved things around. The apartment looks bare and empty, looks like new. A fresh canvas. A new start.
Kame has never been so thankful for nothingness, not in his entire life. When he looks around, he sees that Jin has kept all the things about them - all the memories that they've shared, all of the moments. And now, the world opens up before him with its possibilities. The chance to make so many more of them.
When Jin comes up the stairs hauling an enormous bag behind him, Kame reaches out for him, strokes his face. He wants it to be a thank you, but he doesn't have the words.
“Yeah, you're welcome,” Jin grunts. “What have you got in here, the taxi driver's body?”
On Christmas morning, the living room is covered in boxes, some unopened. Wrapping paper and tinsel. Gifts and food and things that Kame brought with him but will never use. Sprawling across the floor - new memories.
They lie in bed until after midday, something Kame calls a christening, feeling delightfully indecent in doing so. They kiss and they kiss and they kiss and when Jin's mouth is on his collarbone, when his hands are around his hips and he's moving against him, as they've moving against each other, he's never been surer of anything that he made the right decision.
Kame lies on him in-between these moments and listens to his heart race.
“You never did your Christmas shopping, did you,” he says, accusingly.
“No,” Jin admits. “I was so busy trying to get you to fucking move in with me, idiot. I kind of forgot.”
Kame just laughs at him, dry and staccato and drained. “You're a brat,” he says.
“Oh, I see,” Jin says. “You're unsatisfied with the lack of presents, are you? I can do something about that. Get the fuck on your back, you ungrateful little-”
Kame looks at him, raising his eyebrows.
“That is not a replacement Christmas present,” he says.
“How do you know?” Jin asks, lying down against him, wriggling tight in and covering his collarbone in kisses. “You haven't unwrapped it yet.”
From: tokyostory
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: Postcodes
Pairing/Group: Jin/Kame (KAT-TUN)
Rating: R
Warnings: Some sexual content, rude language
Notes: None
Summary: Happy Holidays pithetaphish! I really hope you enjoy your fic!
“Move in with me,” Jin says. It takes Kame by surprise and so he doesn't say anything at first. He's breathing too hard to form words, anyway, which makes Jin grin that grin that makes Kame want to do everything he says. It's all very dangerous and as Jin rolls off and flops down onto the sheets, Kame marvels at his total lack of intimidation.
As he tries to fall asleep, Kame tries to rationalize the request in roughly one hundred ways. It's easy to do, not just because Kame is good at rationalizing, but because Jin's suggestions are often fairly bad ideas.
That and after a lot of wine and a lot of afternoon sex (Kame's favourite) and what with it being very cold and Jin being very post-coital, there's a lot of rationalizing that should be done. After all, all of this means that listening to Jin would be distinctly unwise.
The only problem is that when Jin said it, it was a huff of breath all over Kame's collarbone. Through the night when he wakes he tosses and turns - touches his skin and feels the words there.
He wakes after an unsteady night's sleep to another cold December morning. The weather outside is frightfully cold and Jin is, somewhat ironically, behaving like a turtle. Kame resents having to get up when it's still dark but he is more respectful of the alarm clock than Jin. When it rattles, he reaches out and smacks it. Lies back, stretches until he yawns and then studies the Jin-duvet-mountain beside him.
“Jin,” he says.
“No,” Jin mumbles. “Not available. Ring back later.”
Kame frowns. Then, he stretches again and hauls himself out of bed. He's cruel enough to toss his side of the duvet over Jin, who makes a ragged sound in his throat and turns over, tugging the duvet back around himself. He's cruel enough to watch it, too, amused.
“You're going to be late,” he says, as he wanders through to the bathroom.
“Okay,” Jin says, agreeably.
Kame's bathroom is logically organised and that too is a reason not to move in with Jin. Jin is not only incapable of getting up within an hour of being woken, he also regards his bathroom as a dumping ground. In Kame's bathroom, things have a proper place. It means that when he stumbles in there in the morning, he can grab his toothbrush with his eyes closed. In Jin's bathroom, he'd reach out for his toothbrush and end up holding a plastic lightsabre.
He's in the shower by the time Jin crashes in, rubbing his eyes. They don't have boundaries. Kame did, once - six years of sharing rooms with Jin seems to have eroded them. He doesn't bat an eyelid as Jin stumbles around in the background. When he finally opens his eyes, soap running down his back, Jin is standing looking at him.
“What,” he says, lazily. “Wait your turn. I got up earlier. That means I get first use of the hot-”
Jin frowns back and then, discarding of his sweatpants, climbs into the shower.
Kame fixes him with a look. “Brat,” he says, but there isn't any bite in it. Jin just grins.
“Shampoo,” he says.
Kame leans down and grabs the stuff he always gives Jin - the stuff they pick up in hotels. That Koki ribs him about because with what they're worth, collecting free hotel shampoo bottles is a ridiculous habit. Kame can't seem to help it.
Jin takes it and rubs it into his hair.
“I don't like your expensive shit anyway,” he says. “It makes me smell like a girl.”
Kame ignores him and tilts his neck to the spray, his eyes lidding. “You could just bring your own shampoo,” he says. “Only I wouldn't give you attention that way.”
“Good point,” Jin says. “I must remember to forget my clothes next time.”
“It's not like you use them when you're here,” Kame says, shaking his hair out and leaving Jin to the spray.
Jin stands under it, shrugging his shoulders with the warmth of the water. “Mm,” he says. “Fuck, that's good.”
“Shut up,” Kame says, climbing out. “I'm not going to give you a blowjob.”
Jin cracks open one eye. “Did I ask for one?”
“You did the sex voice,” Kame says.
Jin just laughs, closes his eyes. “I need some new strategies,” he says. “You're catching on too fast.”
“You could just stop being slutty,” Kame says. “Wait, fuck, did I just say that?”
“Apparently,” Jin says. “Leave me a towel.”
“One towel,” Kame says. “And hurry up - if we're late anyway and I didn't get to give you a blowjob, I'm gonna be really pissed. If you're going to get rid of that, be quick about it.”
He closes the door behind him. Behind it, Jin is laughing. Kame narrows his eyes and walks through back into the bedroom, toweling his hair. It calms him, to be there. It's his space. Uncluttered, neutral, it flows. Kame studies his reflection in the mirror as he dries his hair, the colour of the bedsheets, the photograph on the wall. Everything he knows, everything steady and static and right.
Jin's bedroom is littered with dirty magazines, strange combini toys and clothes. Mountains and mountains of clothes. It isn't uncluttered, neutral or flowing. Another reason not to move in with Jin - Jin could make clutter out of Kame's few possessions. Jin can make clutter out of anything. Only when Jin comes out the shower and his skin is warm and his hair and eyes are dark - when he leans down and throws a vest on and it clings, just so, Kame thinks about it. Really thinks about it.
Kame's place is easier for them when they're working, it's more central. Jin lives a bit further out, it's quieter and his apartment is bigger. He has more stuff, needs more space. Kame's apartment wasn't made for two people. And yet with Jin in it, it seems bigger. It seems warmer. They brush around each other because the rooms aren't large enough to accommodate them both. In the morning, they share the sink. Kame finds himself showering with Jin more often than not - through choice, not necessity. And he gets to watch Jin get dressed in the morning, whether Jin knows he's doing it or not.
Kame drives them to work in the morning and sometimes the photographers are there, sometimes not. It's something they're both used to now, something they no longer let affect them. Jin stretches out in the car and puts the radio on, loud enough to drown out the sound of the camera flashes outside.
“Apparently you're feuding again,” Junno says, reading the tabloids over coffee. They're doing interviews and photoshoots and performances in their sleep at the moment, publicity for the new single. Junno likes to read the gossip about Jin and Kame, delights in embarrassing them with it. A revenge strategy of sorts.
Kame just grunts at him, heading for some breakfast. Jin stretches out on the sofa in the dressing room and regards Junno with a baleful expression.
“What are we fighting about this time?” he asks. “Did we both reach for the same designer boots in the department store?”
“Close,” Junno says. “Apparently you're arguing over costumes. You both wanted to wear the same clothes for the PV and now you're arguing over everything you wear for the publicity performances.”
“Like Kame's clothes would even fit me,” Jin says.
“Yep,” Kame says, handing Jin some coffee and a piece of toast. Jin looks at Kame's croissant and then up at Kame. Kame doesn't blink. “You just said it,” he says. “You need to be on a diet. No croissants for you.”
Junno looks at them both. “If they knew you only fight about croissants, they'd be mortified,” he says.
Jin settles for tearing bits off Kame's croissant and eating them with a gleeful look on his face. Kame lets him, because he knows Jin feels stolen food tastes better than any other kind - and, well, it's a strange pleasure to have Jin coveting his things.
“We don't just fight about croissants,” Jin argues. “We fight about all sorts.”
“No, you don't,” Junno says, shrugging. “You're like a married couple. You just grumble. You don't fight anymore. You're getting old. We're all getting old.”
“Who's getting old?” Koki says, walking in and slinging his bag down on the table.
“Them,” Junno says. “Kame won't let Jin eat croissants. Says he needs to go on a diet.”
Koki studies them both. “You sad bastards,” he says, eventually. “Fuck, I'll call you a taxi. You can go straight to the church.”
“Hah,” Jin says. “He won't move in with me. I think marriage is out of the question.”
Kame glares at him. “I didn't say I wouldn't,” he says. “And you're considering marriage?”
“Sure,” Jin says. “You could be my little housewife. It'd be nice.”
Kame takes his toast from him and eats it.
“Don't move in with him,” Maru says, nodding at Jin. “You know when we saw WALL-E? That big trash dump is his bedroom. You'd have to be WALL-E, clearing it all up for years and years and years.”
“KAM-E,” Junno says.
“I'm not moving in with anybody,” Kame says. “The press would have a field day.”
Jin looks up, watches Kame eating his toast. “So?” he says. “What do we care? They know we go to work together. For all they know we're already living together.”
“I'd make you tidy things,” Kame says. “I'd make you clean, Jin. You'd have to stop living like a teenager.”
“Fine,” Jin says. “I'm into sharing out domestic tasks. Always said I wouldn't expect my wife to do all the chores.”
“If you don't stop calling me that,” Kame says. “You really will be feuding with me.”
Jin sighs, looking up at him with enormous eyes. “Kame,” he says. “Kame, Kame, Kame. Haven't you worked this aggression out yet? How many more taxi drivers do you need to-”
“Don't move in with him,” Maru says, shaking his head. “You'll kill each other and we'll be T-TUN.”
“T-T-T-T-Tun,” Koki says. “Has a ring to it.”
“I'm not moving in with anybody,” Kame says, holding a cushion over Jin's head. “Least of all you.”
They spend the night at Jin's. Jin has a drawer set out for Kame's stuff - which is more than Kame has done for him in return. Despite himself, Kame finds that he likes spending time at Jin's. It isn't just the impression of more space but being around things that are familiar. Clothes he's seen Jin wearing, magazines they read together on planes, Jin's favourite music, the way he pounds around the apartment looking for things he's lost.
Kame even has a favoured chair at Jin's apartment. He tends to sit in it when they come in, while Jin gets changed, starts making something to eat, hooks his iPod up to his stereo. Kame stares at the mess, puts his feet up on the coffee table beside the six mugs and the collection of books and magazines.
“You need a maid,” he says.
“The outfit turns me on,” Jin says, from the bedroom. “You offering?”
“No,” Kame says. “What's for dinner?”
“Whatever's in the cupboard,” Jin says, grinning.
“Of course,” Kame says.
They eat and they have beer. Jin has a big kitchen but they don't use the table. They sit on the sofa and Kame watches the news while Jin watches him. Kame stretches himself out, agreeably putting his head on Jin's shoulder. They bunch up together like cats, cold in winter.
“I can't wait for summer,” Jin complains.
“You always say that,” Kame says. “Then when it's summer, you complain that it's too hot.”
“True,” Jin says. “At least I'm consistent.”
“Hah,” Kame says. “I like winter.”
“I know,” Jin says. “You like Christmas. You're the only person I know who does.”
“I thought you did,” Kame says.
“It's okay,” Jin says. “I like anything that combines family, friends, food and presents. But it's pretty stressful. Pi hates it - that makes me feel bad.”
“It'll get easier,” Kame says. “He's just...lonely. Things change when you get less lonely.”
“I guess so,” Jin says.
“What do you want for Christmas?” Kame asks.
Jin leans back, grinning. “You in a maid's outfit,” he says.
“Shut up,” Kame says. “I'm serious.”
“So am I,” Jin says.
“Jin,” Kame says.
“Alright, alright,” Jin says. “Fuck. Er...I'm thinking Scalextric is out of the question?”
Kame toes off his shoes. “I don't care,” he says. “It's your apartment. If you want to cover it with race track, that's fine by me.”
“Okay,” Jin says, happily. “I meant what I said, though, you know. About moving in with me. It could be your apartment, too.”
Kame looks at him, tilting his beer to his lips. “I like my apartment,” he says. “Why can't we move into my apartment?”
“You're agreeing to this now?”
“No,” Kame says. “Just hypothetically.”
Jin screws his face up. “Your apartment is a shoebox,” he says. “I'd have to sell everything I own.”
“That's a bonus,” Kame says.
“Oi,” Jin says. “Fuck you. My apartment is bigger. More room for us both.”
“Mine's closer to work,” Kame argues.
“Mine doesn't have the press outside it,” Jin says.
“Not now it doesn't,” Kame says. “You've not had it long. Give it a month. Mine's closer to the city. Closer to everything. If you want to go clubbing, you'd have to drive there.”
“Taxis,” Jin says. “Oh, wait, that's a problem for you now, isn't it.”
Kame smacks his shoulder and Jin tussles with him, both laughing. Jin has a kind of drunken strength that Kame can't compete with, so he ends up on his back. Jin presses between his thighs, holding his hands down. Kame tilts his chin up at him, jutting out his jaw.
“Mine has a nicer bed,” he says.
Jin narrows his eyes. “You could bring the bed with you,” he says.
“You'd have to tidy up,” Kame says. “I'm not living in this place like this - it's like a playground. It's like stepping stones trying to navigate the place.”
“Adventurous,” Jin says, leaning down and suckling on Kame's throat. “Unpredictable. Sexy.”
“Messy,” Kame says, but he reaches up and touches the nape of Jin's neck. “Falling over in the morning, tripping over things. Clothes all creased and me nagging-”
Jin works a hand into Kame's jeans and Kame doesn't feel he can say anything more. He can feel the edges of Jin's teeth as he pushes his hips up into his hand, a thick tickle running through his blood.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses. “Fuck, don't stop.”
“Is that a yes?” Jin murmurs, in his ear.
“No,” Kame says, not without force.
To his credit, Jin doesn't stop, all the same. He's learnt over the years the value of a long game.
Over the course of the week, Jin starts leaving post-it notes on Kame's fridge. At first, Kame doesn't notice it. In the morning, he doesn't even turn the lights on when he makes coffee - he knows where everything is without using his eyes (another advantage, of course, to not moving into Jin's apartment). By midweek, all of his mugs seem to have been misplaced, so he's forced to turn the lights on.
'My place has more mugs', the post-it reads.
Kame frowns at it.
“Jin,” he says, walking back into his bedroom. Jin is dozing, on his front, feet sticking out delightedly from the duvet. He's wriggling his toes. It's obnoxiously charming.
“Nn,” Jin says. “Is this about the mugs.”
“I am not moving in with you because of your mug collection,” Kame says.
“Fuck, really?” Jin says, turning over and opening his eyes. “I thought you'd go for that. You're so practical.”
“I'm not...” Kame glares at him. “I'm not fifty years old. I'm not dating you because of your range of coffee utensils.”
“Fair enough,” Jin says. “You're refusing to move in with me because of my lack of...cleaning utensils, though. So, you know, it stands to reason that if I had more utensils you might be more tempted.”
“Your brain frightens me,” Kame says. “And you're late. Again.”
“When we live together,” Jin says. “It means we're late. And because you're you, everybody assumes that you must have gotten diverted doing something really important. Not just, y'know, giving out blowjobs or having a wank or whatever. So I'm by association a more responsible person.”
“That's why you want to move in with me?”
Jin stares at him. “Well, obviously not, idiot. Did you not hear me say 'giving out blowjobs'?”
“You want to move in with me so I can suck you off more frequently? I don't do that enough for you as it currently stands?”
“This isn't going well, is it.”
“No.”
“I want to move in with you because I like spending time with you,” Jin says. “Blowjobs are, er, a small part of that. A big part, obviously, I'm not...small. Yeah. But...yeah. Uh.”
Kame looks at him.
“I love you?” Jin grins.
Kame folds his arms, but he's smiling. “Go and get dressed,” he says.
“Do I get a blowjob this morning?” Jin says, getting up, tugging the sheet around him. He's all worn from sleep and fluffy, just the way Kame likes him. “I think I deserve one, for being so effortlessly charming.”
“No,” Kame says. “You can give me one, for being so fucking obnoxious.”
“Okay,” Jin says, happily.
In the dressing rooms, Junno keeps setting up Christmas decorations. Kame revels in having done all of his shopping already - he knows that Jin and Maru will get around to it in January or so. December is usually a good month for them. Busy, but everybody feels festive. Gearing up to a new year, a year for changes, a fresh start. So much to be thankful for.
He tries to take this mood with him into their performances. Their Christmas song isn't the most festive piece of music in the world and a part of Kame feels sad that they weren't able to do something happier.
When asked about it, he nods enthusiastically, declares White X'mas to be KAT-TUN's best single yet.
“It's a sad song, though,” the interviewers always say. “It's about being lonely at Christmas. Have you ever felt alone at Christmas?”
Kame doesn't think he has, ever. He knows that he should be able to relate to the audience, the people who spend each Christmas with their regrets and their emotional hangovers. Christmas is the time of year he likes best. A time of love, of being squashed between family, lovers, friends. A time of snow and people holding hands.
He doesn't want to say this, so what he says instead sounds false, sounds strange coming out of his mouth.
“After the video finishes,” Jin says, when he stops. “I think all the girls did turn up in the end. We didn't really get stood up. They were just late because of all the discount shopping going on at the moment...”
“You're a bastard,” Koki says, laughing and running into Jin's back as they leave the studio. “You shouldn't tease people like that.”
“He has a point,” Kame says. “It's all a bit morbid.”
Koki pulls a face. “I think it shows our emotional range,” he says. “And we got to act in the PV.”
“Some of us got to try,” Ueda says, pointedly.
“I think I need to do some discount shopping myself,” Junno says. “Kame, are you sure you don't want socks?”
“Yes,” Kame says, patiently. “Why does everybody think I'm fifty years old?”
He finds it hard to sleep with it still on his mind. The difficulty of being in a relationship is that it throws light on you as a person. As a personality, with all of your dark spots, your personal stains. Kame has considered his long relationship with Jin as something related to their job, their world - the stress of it, the crazy rollercoaster. He loves Jin in ways he can't even begin to understand but for some reason, he always held back. The fear of what his heart could do to the work his head has helped build, he supposes. The risk involved in feeling too much.
It startles him that Jin is so reckless with his heart and his head. When things got too much for both, he went to LA. He came back full of American sunshine. Kame can't imagine doing something like that and yet it made things better. Smoother. They fought less and less after Jin returned. The papers relied on making things up, bored with the lack of real meat to go on.
“You've lived with a girl, right?” he whispers to Koki. They're on the bus travelling for their show and everybody else is fast asleep. It's the middle of the night and Kame knows that he should be, too, only his head won't let him. His heart won't let him. And Koki is playing with his DS, so clearly he too has things on his mind.
“Yeah,” Koki says, flicking his eyes up over the console. “Why?”
“Did it make your relationship better or worse?”
Koki considers this, flipping the lid down on his game. “Better,” he says. “More intimate. It's a commitment. Anything that brings you closer together is good if the relationship is good. If it's crap to begin it with then obviously, moving in together probably wouldn't help.”
Kame nods, staring out of the window. Sometimes, he wishes he could screw his gut into a ball, the way that Jin does. Just feel and know and do.
“What scares you about it?” Koki says.
Kame shrugs, looking back at him. “Everything,” he says. “The only person he's lived with is Pi. Pi is just like him. Everybody Jin lives with is just like him - and I'm just. I'm so. I have to have things a certain way. I don't like giving things up. Space, time, possessions. Ways of doing things. I can't imagine just giving that up.”
Koki rubs his chin. “Doesn't make you happy, though,” he says. “All your routine.”
“No,” Kame says. “Probably not.”
“Look, he says what he thinks. He does what he thinks. He's not stupid - anybody like that knows what they're getting into. If he wants to move in with you, then he knows all that already and he's not bothered. Don't worry about it so much.”
“Are you just saying that because you're in the middle of battling...who is it?”
“The Elite Four,” Koki says, sheepishly. “No. Obviously not. But, er, if I were, it doesn't make it less true. Stop deflecting.”
“Okay,” Kame says. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome,” Koki says. “You told me last Christmas you wanted stuff in your life to change. Now you have a chance, so remember that.”
The theory of living with Jin is difficult for Kame to come around to, but with Christmas spirit in mind he decides to embrace change in his life. Swallowing down trepidation, he decides to test out the theory by staying at Jin's for a whole week. He doesn't explicitly set this out for Jin, nor does Jin admit that he knows what's up. Instead, they both pretend that nothing out of the ordinary is going on. When Kame asks certain delicate questions, Jin is happy to play along.
“You don't have a pinboard,” Kame says. “Why not?”
He's lying on Jin, so Jin isn't really paying attention. He's curling a lock of Kame's hair around his thumb and forefinger, trying to make it stand on end.
“A what,” he says.
“A pinboard,” Kame says. “To put useful things on.”
“Like what?” Jin asks.
“Like telephone numbers,” Kame suggests. “Or appointments. For if your dog needs emergency vet treatment or...takeaway menus or...you know. Taxi firms.”
Jin gives him a look.
“Okay,” Kame says. “Not taxi firms. Just things. Useful things. When there's a crisis, where do you find the telephone numbers you need?”
Jin is still giving him a look.
“This isn't a me thing,” Kame says. “Koki has a pinboard.”
“You're both girls,” Jin says. “Pinboards aren't manly. I have an address book.”
“Where?” Kame asks.
“In the hall.”
“That's not an address book,” Kame says. “That's a pile of menus and phonebooks.”
“Same sort of thing,” Jin says. He's moved his hand to Kame's neck, just under his chin. Kame tries not to give him the satisfaction of squirming.
“It's not the same thing,” Kame says.
“It's like a pinboard without pins,” Jin says.
“It isn't like that at all,” Kame says. “Mm. Lower.”
Jin looks pleased and runs his hand down Kame's spine. Under his t-shirt, where Kame's skin is warm. Undulation runs through Kame's body.
“The important things are all in my head, anyway,” Jin says.
“Mmn,” Kame says. “Not much room in there.”
Jin smacks him and narrows his eyes. When Kame opens them, he's pulling a rather ridiculous petulant face, which he keeps up until Kame leans down and kisses his collarbone. It's Jin's turn then to resist the urge to wriggle.
“Have you finished interviewing me now?” Jin says, with a grin. He grabs Kame's fingers away and starts to nibble on them, totally undermining Kame's attempt at being serious. “I promise I'd make an excellent housemate. I cook, I...sometimes clean and I accept sex instead of rent payments.”
“I'm not interviewing,” Kame says. “Just asking questions.”
“Can you possibly live with somebody who doesn't own a pinboard?” Jin says, amused. “Important issues indeed.”
“Funny,” Kame says. “You don't complain about my multi-tasking ability when I've got your cock in my mouth and my fingers-”
“Heh, true,” Jin says, nodding. “There are advantages to you. And advantages to me, yeah?”
“I suppose so,” Kame says. “What you lack in pinboards you make up in fantastic blowjobs.”
“There you go,” Jin says, delightedly. He's stopped nibbling and started gently sucking. When he talks his lips move around Kame's skin. “Another good housemate skill.”
“If I move in with you,” Kame says. “I'm bringing my pinboard.”
“Fine,” Jin says. “I think I could get used to it. Anything important goes on the very public pinboard, I understand. Lots of notes from Jin to Kame, detailing all sorts of very important matters such as who's going to fuck-”
“Alright, alright,” Kame says. “I'll bring my pinboard and you can use your stupid pyramid in the hall.”
“Are we still talking hypothetically?” Jin grins. “Your hypothetical pinboard and my hypothetical stupid pyramid? Only you said “I'll bring” not “if I bring”.”
“We're still talking hypothetically,” Kame grouches.
“Damn,” Jin says. He leans it, kissing Kame's jawline and down his neck, back up and hard on the mouth. Kame's hand moves around and into his hair and he shivers with it, delighted.
“What about now?” he says.
“Still hypothetical,” Kame says.
“You're a hard nut to crack, Kamenashi Kazuya,” Jin says.
“Mm,” Kame says. “What is it about this that you want so much?”
“You moving in with me?” Jin asks.
“Yeah,” Kame says. “Is it about the sex or what? Is it about-”
Jin tilts his head to one side. “I just like spending time with you,” he says. “That includes the sex. It isn't sex or being with somebody. They're not mutually exclusive.”
“I know,” Kame says. “I didn't mean that. I just - I'd drive you fucking crazy.”
“I already know everything there is to know,” Jin says. “Your eccentricities are charming.”
“Are they,” Kame says, sardonically. Jin is wiggling his eyebrows.
“Yes,” he says. “I love that you go all Rocky when a taxi driver pisses you off.”
“I'm never going to live that down.”
“Nope,” Jin says. “Not after all that talk of me becoming a gangster in LA. I was scared of approaching gas pump attendants. And yet you were harboring violent tendencies all along.”
“I do not have violent tendencies,” Kame says. “He wound me up.”
“I find it charming,” Jin says. “And hot.”
“You would,” Kame says.
“I find you charming,” Jin says. “I'd drive you fucking crazy right back. I figure, fuck, what have we got to lose? We've been together for five years. I think I've been suitably warned.”
Kame looks at him, shifting to get comfortable until his knee finds a warm spot and Jin grunts, pleased.
“Hm,” Kame says. “I guess I just - I don't want to be your wife. I really don't want to be the shrill person whose issues impose on your...freedom of...whatever. You know? I'm not kidding when I say I'd make you tidy up. I'm seriously not kidding.”
“Kame,” Jin says. “That's fine. I don't care. If you want me to be a housemaid, done. Just move in with me. Cook for me and supply me with blowjobs and I'll clean the bathroom with my tongue.”
“There's something wrong with you,” Kame says. “Seriously.”
“You've always known that,” Jin says. “And you're still considering moving in with me. Man, I must be really hot. Really good in bed. Somebody would be mad not to decide to live with me and have all of this hot skill on tap.”
He's grinning, the big dog-like grin that means he knows he's winning. Kame narrows his eyes at him, but it's mostly show. He leans down and kisses Jin on the mouth, deep and long until Jin's arms work around his waist. Jin tries to roll him over, tries to assert authority, but Kame decides he's having none of it. Not tonight. Not with this on his mind.
“I'm not being your wife,” he hisses, leaning down over Jin and nibbling the edge of his earlobe. “Give it up. Tonight, you're not getting your own way.”
Jin just looks at him, the hard edge of competition in his eyes and in his jaw. He's dicing things up in his mind, he can see that - Jin relents to Kame just enough to make him comfortable. And then when it counts, his competitive streak kicks back in and edges appear, edges that Kame loves to cut his teeth on. And just as Jin opens his mouth to speak, to say something stupid, Kame runs his hand up between his legs.
“Think hard before you speak,” he says, pointedly.
The week ends without too many dramas. Kame feels pleased, surprisingly so, about the progress they seem to have made. Jin lives in an organised mess, which makes it easier - there's nothing chaotic about it. Kame tries not to tidy too much, instead managing to convince Jin to do it himself. One of the advantages of Jin is that he's happy to do something once asked, as long as he isn't asked five times in quick succession. The slightest perception of repetition and he slows down altogether, rebelling against authority in a way that's distinctly childish. Luckily, it doesn't seem to get to that stage very often.
“So,” Jin says. It's morning and he's in the kitchen, dressed in a sheet. Kame sits at the breakfast bar, eating, watching him. They watch each other. “Is my probation period over?”
Kame shoves into his shoulder. “Don't you have worries?” he asks. “You must have things you worry about. Nobody is this laidback.”
Jin just laughs. “About moving in with you?”
“Yeah,” Kame says.
“No,” he says. “I wouldn't ask if I didn't want you to.”
“You wouldn't ask if it weren't important to you,” Kame says. “I think it's important to you because you want a sign of commitment.”
Jin sits down with his coffee, looking thoughtful. He has a dark inscrutable look on his face that suggests Kame is right - an expression Kame knows well.
“I've always thought about this as being something related to the band,” Kame says. “To the crazy thing we're living in. I always thought it was because we're so close, we're so physically close that it was inevitable we'd end up like this. That maybe if we'd gone into different careers...”
“We wouldn't have ended up together?”
“Yeah,” Kame says. “That maybe we are because we can't be around one another and not be together. We've been together from the moment we were...together.”
“Not in LA,” Jin says. “I left but I still wanted you. We were still together then.”
Kame thinks about this and it dawns on him that he's, for once, dead wrong. “Yeah,” he says. “That's true. I hadn't thought of that.”
Jin nods. He looks uncomfortable, almost childish. He doesn't talk about emotion easily and certainly not in the morning - he makes allowances for Kame's schedule. For Kame's everything, really, and it's no longer a way things should operate.
“My thinking this probably means I haven't given you enough commitment,” Kame continues. “I've been holding back and you've been giving in order to make us meet. And that - I'm realising that now, even talking to you. I'm seeing that maybe I haven't seemed...”
“I knew you loved me,” Jin says. “I know you love me. More than you do, maybe. You're crap at hiding things like that. So it's not like that, really. Not entirely.”
“Okay,” Kame says. “We should give this a go. We should - I mean. I know it's going to be a pain for you, because I'm a pain, but if you can cope, so will I.”
“It's not going into prison,” Jin says, with a mocking grin. “It's not preparing for battle.”
Kame looks at him. “I've never lived with anybody as an adult,” he says. “For me, this is...a big deal. I'm gonna need a bit of patience.”
“Fine,” Jin says. “You can have anything you want. You know that.”
A week later, they're interviewed by a magazine about the single, about the nature of loneliness during the festive season. It makes Kame think of Yamapi, who always says that being alone at Christmas makes being alone feel harder than it already is. The very nature of the season brings extra happiness for the happy and extra sadness for the lonely. Kame doesn't want that to be in what he sings about. It isn't something he wishes to have in his life.
“I think the song should be seen as inspirational,” he says. “We should appreciate the people around us at Christmas. If there are people in your life, you should be with them. Christmas should be that sort of time.”
“Anyway,” Jin says. “The girls all turned up in the end. They got lost and had to get taxis, and, well-”
“So,” Kame interrupts. “It all worked out fine in the end, I think is the point.”
“Of course,” Koki says. “Taxi drivers save the day once again. They're a good bunch, taxi drivers. Under-appreciated. Appreciate your taxi drivers this Christmas.”
“Yes,” Kame says, clipped. “I completely agree.”
Christmas Eve. The world outside is full of lights, full of excitement. Kame pulls up at Jin's apartment and it seems to take his car an extra second to stop, it's so full of stuff. He takes a deep breath and flexes his hands on the steering wheel. Despite everything, it was hard to make the call to his estate agent that morning. To put the apartment on the market. To finalise things.
The light is on in Jin's living room and Kame can see the curls of the tree. He opens the car door and slams it shut, hard, reaches for the boot. The air is cold outside but thankfully, he's alone. Reporters still haven't discovered this place. It might be January before they figure it out, after a couple of weeks stalking the 'for sale' signs at Kame's.
He doesn't hear the crunch of footsteps behind him until it's too late. He whirls around but Jin manages to gleefully shove a handful of snow down his jacket, all the same.
“Is this what I have to look forward to?” he says, wearily, shaking out his t-shirt and shivering.
“Absolutely,” Jin says, grinning. He's wearing a ridiculous hat with furry bits over his ears. He looks a little like he did when Kame joined the industry, when he and Jin were so stupid and so young. When they fell into something they didn't truly understand, the kissing and the touching and the total, consuming passion for one another. The fighting that came with shaping it through the years, pushing it and shoving it to keep it private and practical and right.
Kame realises in that moment that the things he has to look forward to are vast and great. Cold down his back and warm on his mouth, because in the middle of the deserted parking lot, in the middle of the snow and the lights, Jin is kissing him. And nothing else matters.
By the time Kame has trekked up the stairs with his bags and bags, he's unable to pay attention to anything except the exhaustion in his arms. Jin ducks back out of the apartment to get more luggage out of the car, which gives Kame a moment to survey his surroundings. He realises then that Jin has cleared out drawers and drawers, moved things around. The apartment looks bare and empty, looks like new. A fresh canvas. A new start.
Kame has never been so thankful for nothingness, not in his entire life. When he looks around, he sees that Jin has kept all the things about them - all the memories that they've shared, all of the moments. And now, the world opens up before him with its possibilities. The chance to make so many more of them.
When Jin comes up the stairs hauling an enormous bag behind him, Kame reaches out for him, strokes his face. He wants it to be a thank you, but he doesn't have the words.
“Yeah, you're welcome,” Jin grunts. “What have you got in here, the taxi driver's body?”
On Christmas morning, the living room is covered in boxes, some unopened. Wrapping paper and tinsel. Gifts and food and things that Kame brought with him but will never use. Sprawling across the floor - new memories.
They lie in bed until after midday, something Kame calls a christening, feeling delightfully indecent in doing so. They kiss and they kiss and they kiss and when Jin's mouth is on his collarbone, when his hands are around his hips and he's moving against him, as they've moving against each other, he's never been surer of anything that he made the right decision.
Kame lies on him in-between these moments and listens to his heart race.
“You never did your Christmas shopping, did you,” he says, accusingly.
“No,” Jin admits. “I was so busy trying to get you to fucking move in with me, idiot. I kind of forgot.”
Kame just laughs at him, dry and staccato and drained. “You're a brat,” he says.
“Oh, I see,” Jin says. “You're unsatisfied with the lack of presents, are you? I can do something about that. Get the fuck on your back, you ungrateful little-”
Kame looks at him, raising his eyebrows.
“That is not a replacement Christmas present,” he says.
“How do you know?” Jin asks, lying down against him, wriggling tight in and covering his collarbone in kisses. “You haven't unwrapped it yet.”