fic for shardaunei

[nino_mod]

For: shardaunei
From: greatfountain

Title: Just a little relish
Pairing/Focus: Ninomiya Kazunari/Kuroki Meisa, background Aiba Masaki/Becky. Features Nino, Meisa, Yamapi, Maki, Arashi, and Becky
Rating: PG-13 for smoking and sexual innuendo
Warnings: Bad hot-dog related jokes, New York City AU
Summary: Kazunari Ninomiya's not going to be selling hot dogs forever. But when it comes to a choice between the stunning Meisa Kuroki and the career he wants to bad he can taste it, he's got to come up with something, and fast.
Notes: Thank you to my cheerleader, P, and my beta, H, for her lightning-quick job on this. It was a joy to work on this, shardaunei, and I really hope you enjoy this even though it wasn't quite what you specifically asked for. Thank you to our lovely Mod-sama for running such a fun event!


Nino sees, roughly, where his life is going, when the guy who owns the hot dog cart he works at to pay the bills starts saying leading things about 'when you're in business for yourself', and to be honest it freaks him out more than a little. Kazunari Ninomiya had been going somewhere, right out of college. He'd gotten a degree in classical composition, because it meant getting out of his little town and into New York City, but he hadn't wanted to spend his days composing orchestra pieces or playing piano for an ensemble then, and he certainly doesn't now. He wants to get his voice, his songs, out there. He'd stayed in school for a Master's degree in contemporary composition after graduation, but after two weeks of mind-numbing fundamentals he'd simply filled out a withdrawal form and gone back to his apartment.

He'd found a job in a jazz ensemble about a week after that, playing piano by night and scratching out desperate, heart-wrenching lyrics between rounds of asskicking on his XBox by day. The jazz club closed after six months, and it had been a moment of startling clarity for Nino--he couldn't do this forever. So he'd found the job at the hot dog stand, selling hamburgers and hot dogs and newspapers during the day and playing his guitar as quietly as he can during the night. His roommate, Aiba, is studying to become a vet and working part-time at a pet store, so he needs as much sleep as he can get. In return he's stopped taking girls home for 'stress relief', so it's mostly fair.

So, yeah, he works as a hot dog vendor, and if he doesn't get his ass out he's going to be stuck there forever. It's not all bad, of course--it keeps him fed and showered and able to play XBox online--though Aiba's really annoying tendency to tell girls that Nino spends most of his time handling weiners whenever Nino lets himself be dragged out of the house causes Nino to put talcum powder in his underwear drawer, and that's... Okay, so that's not bad, either.

Then, of course, there's the girl who comes by every Thursday. She's gorgeous, tall and dark-haired and dressed to the nines, but she's there with a guy who wears a suit, with a Bluetooth in his ear and sunglasses plastered to his face. Nino still doesn't even know her name--the guy he thinks might be her boyfriend pays cash, so Nino can't even get a look at her credit card. She's a lot like the girls Nino normally finds himself following home, the girls Nino can't fall in love with but at his most maudlin and drunk fancies himself in love with. He can think up verses that travel along the sweet tender curves of their bodies, find a melody in the way their mouths open along his, and from the way her ass looks in her skirt, he thinks that he could find a love song under her clothes, too.

"Do you put too much mustard on that thing every time just so that you can stare at my boobs a little longer?"

And, really, she's nothing like the girls he takes home. They're so wrapped up in seducing him, in getting him into their beds, that Nino gets caught up in what their bodies are saying instead of what their words are doing.

"No," he tells her, "it's not like there's anything to look at anyway." That's not really true, her open-necked button-down is just loose enough to say something, but if she's going to be like that, he can't really resist. He'd never say that to a girl he fancies himself loving, even if that love only lasts as long as a long kiss and a slow slide into bed.

Her mouth is quirked up on one side, a tiny beat of amusement even though her eyebrows spell 'I'll kill you in your sleep'.

"Ooooh, scary face," he says, handing her the hot dog anyway, "give it to your boyfriend."

She glances back. "Who, that idiot?" she asks, though it's an accusation filled with fondness, "gross." She hands guy in the suit the extra hot dog.

Nino files the information away. "Oh...poor guy. What did you want, again?" Nino likes to make her mouth twist up into a glossy scowl.

"Poor guy, what do you--hey!" Her brow is a perfect irritated arch. Success glows in his stomach. "...a cheeseburger, with tomatoes and a little bit of ketchup."

"You definitely said you wanted a hot dog with relish five minutes ago," Nino answers, and groans. She's got him.

She smiles, all pleasant innocence, "so you were listening, good to hear. Can I have a 7-Up, too?"

"That'll be an extra seventy-five cents," he says, as he ducks down to get a can of soda out of the freezer below the grill. Distantly he hears her and her not-boyfriend swapping change and the all-business sound of her answering her phone. Her call is over by the time he stands up and passes the can her way. Behind her, a line is forming, people dressed in their power suits and glaring at their watches. He trades change for her hot dog and can of soda, and it's only after half an hour of customers and cash that he has a free moment to breathe.

Which is, of course, when the phone on the counter rings. He wipes his hands on his apron, distracted, and tucks it under his chin to say, "hello!"

"Uh, hi, is this the guy at the hot dog place?"

"As far as I remember," he agrees.

"Ugh. Um, are you--when are you done?"

"At four," he answers, and she makes a happy noise.

"Thank god for that," she says, "can you--would you mind meeting me at Davis Polk?"

Immediately the image of the imposing white-steel-and-glass office that is the symbol of the foremost and most iconic law office in all of New York City springs to mind. "Oooh, fancy," he teases, "but yeah. It's only like a five minute walk, isn't it?"

"It's a long five minutes," she corrects, "but I'll do a lot of things to get my hands on your hot dog."

"Okay, that had to be on purpose," he says, and her laughter sounds--shockingly--actually embarrassed.

"I didn't notice until it was halfway out of my mouth," she answers.

"Now that just sounds depressing!" he says, "tell you what, I'll call you when I leave."

"I'm... I'm Meisa," she adds.

"Nino," he says, and hangs up.

Well, at least he has a name now, right?

"Here you go, one mostly undamaged cell phone," he says, sticking it in her direction. He feels kind of out of place here, in jeans that have seen better days, a t-shirt, and a baseball hat shoved onto the back of his head. All of the lawyer types milling around look like they've got fifteen places to go in the next ten minutes, and they seem like they're in a whole different world. Meisa's companion, a slim-suited kind of horse-faced young man with reddish-brown hair, is looking at him like he's an alien, but Meisa's eyes are kind--sort of. As kind as they get.

"Thanks," she says, her fingers slipping along his, "if I find out you dropped it into oil..."

He shrugs, and she rolls her eyes. "Thanks, really," she says, more serious now, "I'd be in real trouble if you hadn't come by."

"Don't mention it," he answers, "no, really, don't mention it, you'll give me a reputation. See you on Tuesday?"

"Tuesday," she agrees.

"Promise?" he asks, and she nods.

A beat later, as he's halfway down the block, he hears, "hey, wait, I come on Thursdays!"

He waves a hand over his shoulder, and can hear her cursing.

She'll be there on Tuesday.

The rest of Nino's masterful plan comes to fruition five hours later. He's been dragged out for his monthly dinner with Jun, a regular affair squeezed in between rehearsals for whatever play Jun's got going on now.

"It's just Friday's, I don't know why you wore your Gucci shoes," Nino is telling him, when his phone rings. He holds up a hand--Jun nods--and pulls the phone up to his ear.

"Hi, daddy, I'm late, I'm so sorry, I'll be there in half an hour!"

"Mmmmm," Nino says, droll, "I'm sure he'll be really depressed to hear that. What if he got all dressed up, just for you?"

"Oh, cut it--who is this?!"

"Meisa, Meisa, Meisa," he chides, "that's no good! I don't like a girl who's late all the time, no matter how pretty they are."

"I called my--so you think I'm pretty?"

"I wouldn't have returned your phone if you weren't. And no, you called number three on your speed dial. Me," Nino answers.

"Good to hear you're at a higher evolutionary level than the rest of your fellow men. And you changed my speed dial number for my father to yours," she guesses.

"I love to prove everyone wrong--every single number in your speed dial, actually," he says, pleased with himself, "but at least I didn't change your dad's name to 'Pimp'?"

"You saved that for yourself, I bet," she accuses, but she doesn't sound nearly mad.

"Pimp-master Nino, actually."

"Clever," she says, "but I'd hate to overwhelm you with too much of me before our new weekly meeting day, so I'm going to actually call my actual father now."

"Hey, that's not the new weekly date," Nino says, "Tuesday is my birthday, you know, and it won't be the same without my favorite bitchy fancy lawyer type."

No sound from the other end of the line. Then, a dial tone.

"Well," Nino says, "that went well!"

Jun is looking at him like he's just said the dumbest thing of all time. The thing is, Jun was Aiba's roommate before Nino moved in, so there's no way that's true. "Girlfriend?" Jun asks, recovering.

"No, not really," Nino answers, just a girl friend. Friend who's a girl, I mean, not like you and that girl of yours."

"There is no girl, least of all one that's mine," Jun snaps, but his cheeks are colored and Nino laughs at him.

At ten thirty o'clock the next morning, Nino is arranging the copies of the Post they'd had delivered that morning, there's three quick raps on the counter. "Huh? We don't open for another half hour," he says.

"You'll want to hear this."

Nino stands up. Meisa is leaning on the counter, her hair tied up and big sunglasses perched on her nose. Seeing her in casual wear is strange, but nice. "You're taking me out for dinner," she tells him, "did you know it took me three hours to clean up my contacts last night?"

"I'm picking the place," he answers, "...this is a date, right?"

"I'm not showing up if it isn't," she says, and turns on her heel to walk away. Nino leans over the counter to watch her ass in her jeans. Moments later his phone buzzes, and a text message that reads 'quit watching my ass' shows up in his inbox.

"Open mic night at a poetry club? Really?" Meisa looks unimpressed, but Nino thinks it's an inspired choice.

"You'll see," he answers, "and the food is good, so whatever."

The food is good. But the guy playing a guitar and caterwauling some kind of lyric poetry is terrible. Like, really, honestly terrible. Nino is really glad he's loud and terrible, though, because it means Meisa moves her chair around next to Nino's and their knees brush every time she leans over to steal another fry from his chicken finger platter ("you'd be surprised how much you miss chicken fingers when you make cheeseburgers and hot dogs all damn day").

"When is this guy going to be done?" Meisa asks.

"Hopefully soon," Nino answers, "last time he went on for an hour... hopefully he runs out of material, there's only so many times I can hear 'my anguish' before I want to throw food at people."

"Are you..." Meisa looks curious, "are you going on?" She nods her chin toward the guitar case set up behind Nino.

"Sooner or later," he agrees, "hopefully sooner rather than later."

Eventually lyrical poetry finds himself off the stage, and Nino stands, brushing his palms over his thighs. "Be back," he says, and wanders off.

He plays three songs about 'no one else but you' and 'finding what you need'. Meisa's eyes never leave his.

They go outside after he's done, and he lights his post-performance cigarette with a distracted sigh. Meisa leans on the wall, her hands on his guitar case. "You want?" he asks, offering her the cigarette.

She nods, and takes it. "What are you doing next week?" she asks.

"I dunno, breathing probably," he says, "what am I doing next week?"

"My dad has a corporate dinner," she says, sighing, "the guy who wants to take me isn't anywhere near enough fun for hours in high heels."

"Awwww," Nino says, and reaches for the cigarette, "I don't own a tux."

"That's okay," Meisa says, dropping the cigarette and stepping closer, her hip pressing against his side as she crushes the cigarette at their feet with a quick turn of her ankle. She presses her lips to the corner of his mouth, and he reaches up to tug the low ponytail tied at her ear loose, get his fingers in her hair. She pulls back, her lip gloss smeared, and says, breathless, "I should go."

"Yeah," he says, "yeah, okay." She really is nothing like the girls he usually goes for.

He comes home, jingling the key in the lock because he knows Aiba's girlfriend came over for dinner, and steps inside. He makes sure to slam the door, and says, as loudly as he can, "I swear to god if you two are naked when I walk inside I'm going to kill you."

"Give me five seconds," Aiba calls, sounding strangled, "you're, um, you're home early!"

"She had to go. Are you on the kitchen table again?"

"No, we hadn't made it there yet," Aiba says, his tone considering, "okay you're safe."

"...hi, Becky," Nino says, waving gamely to Aiba's girlfriend. It's hard to do, since she's pressed up against the wall outside the bathroom and he can only see the very top of her head over Aiba's shoulder. "I'm going to bed. Don't have too much fun, you two--no, seriously, if you slam the headboard up against my wall all night again I'm going to put the bed on the roof."

Becky waves him away with one of the arms anchored around Aiba's neck, and then they go back to making out. Nino makes sure to slam the door to his room.

The next day Meisa's friend in the suit and a short-haired girl in a black dress interrupt his prep at the grill.

"Hi, Nino~" suit-guy says, "I don't know if we've ever been introduced, but I'm Yamapi."

"Yamapi," Nino repeats, like that's normal in any world, "hi. Why are you here?"

"Maki--"Yamapi points at his friend--"is taking you to go get measured for a tux, while I man the hot dog stand!"

Nino blinks. "You can't remember which coin is the quarter and which is the nickel half the time," he says, slowly.

"I gave him a crash course," Maki answers, her smile somehow terrifying, "I'm an accountant, don't worry."

"...if you're an accountant why are you taking me to get measured for a tux," Nino asks, though by the time he's finished asking the question he's been dragged into a black town car and Yamapi is trying to light the grill.

"I do a lot of things for Meisa's family," Maki says, patting his arm.

"Is he going to be okay?" Nino asks, "I mean, if he blows up the cart I'm in trouble."

"On the off chance that he actually blows it up we'll have it fixed," Maki says, waving her hand, "don't worry so much."

Nino thinks he's probably worrying just enough, but if the price is on her head, not his, he'll take it.

Measuring for a tux is... not nice, not really, there's lots of needles and starchy fabrics and muttering about cummerbunds, but it's not totally terrible. Mostly. Maki is a deceptively pleasant looking task-master, and she's on the phone with Meisa arguing about colors Nino could not be assed to learn the difference between for a large portion of the outing. By the time Nino gets back to the hot dog stand, his brain hurts and he's got pinpricks along his entire right arm, but at least Yamapi didn't appear to blow up the hot dog stand. Some things work out.

The tuxedo gets delivered to the apartment three days later, and both Aiba (who tore into the package when he signed off on it) and Jun (who Aiba called over when he saw what it was) seem appreciative of the way it fits. Jun makes a face when he sees Nino's shoes. "You're wearing those?" he asks.

"What? No," Nino answers, "I have to dig my performance shoes out, someone piled all of his animal cages and old zoology textbooks into my closet after his girlfriend started moving all of her shit in."

Aiba has the grace to look abashed, but at least Jun's fashion sense is appeased. He'd picked the performance shoes out, after all.

"Well, you look nice," Meisa says, when they meet up in the hotel lobby. Nino scratches at the back of his head.

"You'd think so, you picked the whole thing out over the phone," Nino answers, "you, uh, you look.... wow. Okay. Uh. Is there a word for 'better than awesome'?"

"Yes," Meisa answers, and trots closer to rest her fingers on Nino's shoulder, "it's Meisa. Obviously."

Nino snorts.

"This is boring," Nino hums into Meisa's ear, "and you never told me you guys were mob!"

"It didn't seem important," Meisa hisses back, "I mean, I'm not in the--in that business!"

"You're the only child of the boss!" Nino says, half under his breath.

"Oh shut up," she answers, rolling her eyes.

"Is this your way of asking me to become your father's successor?"

"Are you insane?! I want to be a lawyer! Daddy knows how I feel about his criminal activities! Besides, can you even shoot a gun?"

Nino feels a little foolish. "Well, no, I guess," he answers, watching her sneak green beans onto his plate, "why didn't you just say that Yamapi was your bodyguard, anyway?"

"Oh, yeah, because that would have gone over well," Meisa snaps, her hand sliding up his thigh toward his hip.

Nino retaliates by grabbing her knee, his palm pressing to her skin. She shifts, barely perceptible, and runs her fingers over the inside seam of his pants.

"There's a private bathroom on the third floor," Meisa says, leaning against his side and pressing her lips to his cheek, "there's a keycard in the pocket of your tux. Meet you in ten~?"

She really is the most wicked girl he's ever known.

"Fuck, you can't just do that at a dinner like that," Nino says, when she backs him up against the bathroom counter and kisses him.

"I can do whatever I want," she says, teeth tugging at his lip, "I'm the boss's daughter, remember?"

The door beeps when it's unlocked--Nino had thought it was the loudest sound in the world, when Meisa had sneaked in. It's louder now that she's here, and they both look up--to the foreboding face of Meisa's father.

"Daddy, hi," Meisa squeaks, and Nino presses his face into his palm.

"This was... not exactly the way I wanted to meet you," Nino says, "but, uh, hi."

Thankfully, Nino doesn't die. He doesn't end up ankle-deep in concrete and sunk to the bottom of the river. But it's closer than Nino would have liked, and at the end of it he has a proper 'introductory dinner' scheduled for the following Sunday.

"Wear the tux," Meisa suggests, when she sends him off in the town car, "I'll call you."

The phone call Nino gets the next week is one he would have killed for under normal circumstances. "Sho, you have the worst timing in the world," Nino informs his closest childhood friend, tired.

"But this is a spot at a huge music festival, I thought you'd be thrilled," Sho says, sounding confused.

"I have a dinner date with my girlfriend's mob boss dad on Sunday," Nino says. Truth be told, he's torn. Of course he's torn--this is the shot he's wanted for years, his ticket out of making hot dogs and singing at poetry cafes.

"Can't you re-schedule?" Sho asks, and Nino groans.

"I wish," he says, "but he's going on vacation and--and this is... important. I think. Look, I've got to... think about things. I'll get back to you on Wednesday, okay?"

As always, Sho tells Jun what Nino said, Jun mentions it to Aiba, and Ohno--Sho's roommate--just kind of knows everything. As always, Aiba calls a 'family meeting', promising to supply the food and the couch for passing out as long as Jun and Sho provide the beer. Nino comes home, stinking like hot dogs and more tired than he's been since he was taking finals his senior year, and slumps when he sees Ohno sitting at the kitchen table and sipping from a beer.

"Kazu," Ohno says, in his easy way, which is followed by the raucous drunken yelling of the other three.

"You know," Nino says, "if you're going to arrange some heart-to-heart, you might want to be sober for it."

"We thought about that," Aiba says.

"We figure if you need help you'll ask, and if you've made your mind up all you're gonna want is to get drunk anyway," Jun adds, and Nino always did know Jun was the smart one.

"Give me a beer," Nino says, "Sho, what are you doing here instead of prepping for your news broadcast, anyway?"

"They have me working the sports," Sho answers, "it's reading scores off a teleprompter. I can do that hungover and asleep." He looks well into his cups.

Two hours and many, many beers later, Sho and Aiba are asleep on the couch, limbs thrown wide and snores rocking the room. Jun's still awake, nursing a beer, but with the other loud-mouthed drunks already out he's fading, fast. Nino peels at the label on his beer, legs stretched out under the tiny kitchen table, and sighs.

"This is everything I've been looking for for, like, five years," he tells Ohno, "but she's... I didn't even know I was looking for her."

Ohno tips his bottle back. "Does her dad like guitar playing?" he asks, casually.

"I dunno," Nino answers, "I mean, maybe. How do I even suggest that? 'Hey, Mister Kuroki, I'm thinking we do dinner on my terms!'?"

Ohno shrugs. "Seems reasonable," he says, and finishes his bottle off. "Bring me another bottle of beer?"

Nino's hands shake as he presses 'call'. Do or die, he decides, do or die. There's two rings, three--god, what is he going to do if it goes to voicemail?--and then a click.

"Hello." Mister Kuroki's voice is as intimidating as he is.

"Uh. Hi, Mister Kuroki. This is Kazunari--Meisa's--Meisa's boyfriend? I had a question for you...?"

"Well then, spill it."

Nino takes a deep breath.

"How did you even manage this?" Meisa calls, her voice loud over the roar of the crowd outside.

"I called your dad and asked him," Nino says, "isn't that--I mean, you never mentioned that he liked 'guys who sound like Jason Mraz'!"

"Yeah, well, it's kind of embarrassing," she answers, laughing, "good luck out there. What songs are you doing?"

"Two of the ones I did that night at the poetry place," Nino says, "and another one. One I wrote, uh, wrote for you. You'll know it--I'm playing piano."

She leans over to kiss him, and sends him off with a swat on the ass.

"You're better with a guitar than I would've thought," Meisa's dad says when it's all done, "good job."

"He's a lot better with a guitar than he is with weiners," Aiba agrees, grinning brightly. Meisa's dad's face gets a really awkward shade of red, and Nino groans.

"Aiba," he complains.

"Don't worry," Meisa says into his ear, "I've already got Maki and Yamapi putting talcum powder in his bed--his girlfriend said something about your package while you were up there."

So not everything about selling hot dogs was bad.