Song Series; Music - Yaotome x Yabu
On Your Porch - The Format
When Yabu opens the door to him, Hikaru doesn’t say a word. For a while they are quiet, watching the moon wane across each other’s faces, breathing in the details they might have lost along the way - Yabu smelling of soap, Hikaru’s hair still spiked up from the stylists, their hands trembling by their sides, waiting.
Neither comments on the naturalness of the situation, when Yabu moves aside to hold the door open, when Hikaru slips out of his sneakers and pads sock-footed into the apartment, and Hikaru doesn’t have to say “I’m home” to know that Yabu will reply with “Welcome back”.
Shame For You - Lily Allen
Hikaru corners him on a Thursday, just as evening was beginning to set in and the reds and pinks were leaking in through the windows.
“It had to be one of us first, didn’t it?”
Yabu bites back a sigh and looks away. He’d forgotten how Hikaru could look at him with his big, big eyes, how much it could hurt when he stares at him, silent, in an empty corridor in a building filling with late sunset.
“You know how it is,” he replies, quiet, keeping his eyes fixed on Hikaru’s shoes. It’s the pair of Converse sneakers they bought together half a year earlier, now battered beyond recognition. There are marker-ink drawings on them - the ones he and Hikaru scrawled, holed up in the latter’s room on a rainy Sunday afternoon, tumbling about laughing and insulting each other’s artistry.
“I don’t, Kou. I don’t.” Hikaru takes a step closer and Yabu wants to step back, but he doesn’t move. He’s still concentrating on the sneakers - he sees two smudgy figures that look suspiciously like the two of them. “But I’ll have to pretend I do.”
Neither says anything for a while, until Hikaru absentmindedly reaches out to brush off a speck of dust on Yabu’s shoulder. He doesn’t wince.
“Do you really like her?” Hikaru’s voice comes out shakier than Yabu expects, and the sound of it makes his heart throb, makes him want to cry.
“I -” When he looks up, Hikaru’s face is emotionless. Somehow, that makes everything even worse. “I just -”
Hikaru doesn’t wait for him to finish. While Yabu is caught in the moment of reply, he reaches out to brush a thumb across his lip - something so tender it makes Yabu stop short - before he turns around and walks away.
He doesn’t look back, even as Yabu watches him till he disappears around a corner.
The Remedy - Jason Mraz
When you first find out, don’t panic. Congratulate heartily, pat him on the back. Ask him for her cup size. Stop hanging around him so much. Hang around other people. Find out more about her. Find out more things to dislike about her. Deduce that she is not worth his time, but say nothing. Keep out of the room when you hear him talk about his dates. Answer no questions. Reply with more questions. Change subjects periodically. Avoid confrontation, even when it appears utterly necessary. Try not to get angry or irritable all the time (even if you usually fail). Keep everything he gave you in an obscure drawer you should try to forget about (even if you pull out everything to look at after a week). Stop talking to him entirely. Keep your conversations with him short and terse. Deny that anything is wrong. Resist the urge to find his girlfriend and strangle her. Keep your distance.
Find him in the dressing room alone. Lock the door. Ignore aforementioned point about confrontations and do so. Push him back against the dresser and kiss him. Thread your fingers through his hair, feel his heartbeat, breathe his scent. Pull back, apologize, and make to leave. He will grab your hand and ask you not to leave. Tell him that you didn’t mean it. He says that the girlfriend was a lie. He doesn’t let go of your hand. Turn around, pull him close.
At this point, it is safe to snog the living daylights out of each other.
Lady Marmalade - Moulin Rouge OST
“Um.” Hikaru coughs, unable to decide if he should avert his eyes or not. He secretly hopes that he doesn’t have to, though, because there is Yabu - sweet, gawky Yabu, childhood friend with the toothy grin and the soft hair - now grown out, filled, all slight curve of hips and long slender legs and pale, pale skin; now spread across the bed, black feather boas, fishnet stockings disappearing into the illegally tight, illegally short leather shorts, rounded off with a smooth velvet vest clinging tightly to his form. When Yabu flashes him a coy glance from beneath long eyelashes and the shadow of his fringe, Hikaru thinks that the only accessories he’s missing are lipstick, red stilettos and Hikaru himself, spread right across him and doing what is necessary when you find someone scantily, sexily-dressed dominating your bed.
“How is it?” Yabu asks, and pushes himself up into a sitting position. His movements are like silk, skin smoothing and sliding across the sheets as he shifts. It makes Hikaru think about other things that he’s not sure he’s supposed to think about. “Jin said that it’d make a good birthday present.”
Jin is officially Hikaru’s favorite senior. He swallows. “It’s good.” is all he can manage with every other fiber of his being concentrating on controlling himself. Yabu frowns a little, and Hikaru finds that very pretty as well.
“I don’t know, it seemed like a weird idea,” he says, sexy, confident Yabu fading slightly and shy, awkward Yabu peeking through. He brings his arms across his chest, unconsciously trying to conceal the vast amount of exposed skin but failing miserably. “I don’t look stupid, do I?” He shifts uncomfortably.
Hikaru thinks that this is ridiculous. Yabu shouldn’t have to look uncomfortable in that (impossibly revealing) get-up. He wants to say No, you look gorgeous, you are the most beautiful thing I have set my eyes on all day and possibly all year, will you please spread yourself across the bed again so that I can just look at you if you don’t want me to touch you because I think I’m going to spontaneously implode with how much I want to do you right into the mattress right now.
Instead, he strides across the room and straight over to Yabu, startling the other boy with his own harshness as he pushes him down and pins him to the bed. He rolls his hips slightly and when Yabu releases a soft gasp he feels a growl start deep in his throat. Yabu recovers quickly and then the slyness melts back in and he smirks, the audacity and sexiness of it all, runs the tip of his tongue across his lower lip.
“I see you don’t have any complaints,” he breathes, voice escalating into a cry as Hikaru leans down to bite the sensitive skin at his neck. “None at all,” he repeats, and punctuates the statement with a moan as the other’s hands find their way under his top.
“If you’re uncomfortable in that I can get you out of it.” It’s Hikaru’s turn to smirk, fingers skating across smooth skin as Yabu writhes beneath him. He brings his lips right next to Yabu’s ear, relishes the way he shivers as his breath ghosts his skin. "Voulez vou coucher avec moi?"
When he leans back, Yabu’s lips are quirked up in a slight smile, eyes dark with lust and sex and want, long legs wrapping around Hikaru’s waist to pull them even closer.
“Oui, bien sur,” he whispers, and presses their lips together.
Complainte de la Butte - Rufus Wainwright [Moulin Rouge OST]
“Dancing again, Kouta?”
The other man starts, whirls around to meet Hikaru’s eyes - briefly - before looking down again.
“Excuse me, Yaotome-san.”
Hikaru waves his hand dismissively. “S’nothing wrong with a little twirling every now and then.” He leans against the doorway, lets a grin spread languidly across his face. “Just thought it was a waste no one else could enjoy it.”
Yabu blushes, but Hikaru sees a smile slip past his features and he congratulates himself on the small success. “I’m not that talented, Sir.”
Hikaru frowns. He strides into the room, startling Yabu when he reaches out to tilt his chin upwards. The shutters sift out the moonlight, throwing soft white lines across his features - the trembling lips, the high cheekbones, the long eyelashes. “Hi-ka-ru.” the younger man pronounces gravely.
“…Sir?"
“Hikaru.” he corrects again. “Not ‘sir’ or ‘Yaotome-san’. Stop making me feel older than I am when I’m the same age as you."
“But - Sir -"
Hikaru presses a finger to his lips. He leans forward, and Yabu can catch the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood, dark and spicy. “It’s okay when we’re alone.”
The proximity makes his cheeks warm. “Thank you, Hikaru-san.”
Hikaru just leans back, smiles again - that maddening quirk of the lips that seems to press right against a section of Yabu’s heart, makes it beat that much faster. He takes a step forward, catches Yabu’s delicate hand in his own and pulls him close, trails another hand down to his waist. In this suddenness and his own shock, Yabu stumbles a little, presses even closer to the other man.
“Sir - Hikaru-san?” Yabu smells of soap, skin, warmth - red spreading across his cheeks like a sunset. He thinks that the right thing is to pull away - but the heat from Hikaru is soft and welcoming, and he can feel the rise and fall of his chest as they lean against each other.
“A waltz,” Hikaru says, breath ghosting the shell of Yabu’s ear, “is made for two, isn’t it?” He looks into the confusion of the other’s eyes, grins. “You’ll teach me, won’t you Kouta?”
Yabu blushes a little, ducks his head as he tries to hide a smile. “As you wish, Hikaru-san.”
So they dance, moving back and forth to Yabu’s count of “one two three” and the tap of their shoes on the wooden slats of the floor. The night is cool with drizzle and breeze, and Hikaru smells the scent of rain in Yabu’s hair, the heat from their contact a pleasant tingle where they were pressed against each other.
“Hikaru-san is a fast learner,” Yabu finds himself saying after he gives up the lead to Hikaru, moving them in that slow waltz around the room, the silence of the piano music enough for them to dance to.
“A pretty teacher is incentive enough,” Hikaru replies, a trace of a grin in his voice, and when Yabu trips a little on the next step he simply laughs.
They continue in that rhythm, one two three, forward and back, round and round until they almost forget what it’s like to stop, to be still, and as Yabu turns on his heel, twirls once and returns back to Hikaru’s arms, Hikaru leans forward and, hearing violins downstairs, kisses him.
afterthought: my sincerest apologies for the French. really. D: