[JE] Composition
Title: Composition
Fandom: KAT-TUN
Pairing: Akame
Rating: R to be safe (m/m activity)
Genre: A little humour, a little romance, but mostly angst.
Word count: Approx. 4,100
Disclaimer: Not mine, damnit.
Summary: KAT-TUN are headed to France to shoot their new photobook, and Jin gets bored on the plane. Luckily, Kame knows how to keep him entertained...
Author's Notes
Sometimes Jin's made of...
Before I went on holiday, lilmatchgirl007 made a throwaway comment to me about Akame on the plane, and I said I wasn't going to do it. But when you're on a twelve-hour flight you get to daydreaming, which, with me, inevitably leads to fic. I'm pretty sure this wasn't what Matchy had in mind, though!
I appreciate that I usually write happy endings, so I will warn you now: you won't find one here. Not that it's a sad ending or anything...not really an ending at all, actually, which is a bad thing for a writer to admit. I have an unfortunate tendency to inflict all sorts of issues on poor Jin, though it's frequently Kame who suffers the most because of them. If you try extremely hard, you can probably shoehorn this into this month's theme, as there is indeed some confusion and quite possibly even some omission and abstraction as well.
This fic takes place a short while after Yukan Club finishes filming, which I guess would put it end of 2007/beginning of 2008. Don't worry. Nobody dies, gets hurt, maimed, sick or damaged in any other way. They just get a little pensive, that's all.
Composition
Sometimes, Jin is made of coiled springs, curling in tight spirals to compress, suppress and otherwise repress him.
There isn't much leg room on the flight - their management refused to spring for first class, or even premium economy - and the six members of KAT-TUN are crammed in with the rest of the cattle. They sit in pairs along the right-hand side: Ueda and Taguchi in front, Nakamaru and Koki in the back, and Kame and Jin in the middle.
Jin doesn't do well on planes, long legs tucked wherever he can find space and nervous energy desperate to find an outlet. Three hours in and he's already made Kame get up four times so he can go walkies, but despite Kame's offer to change seats so that Jin can have the aisle, Jin refuses to switch, and hangs on selfishly to the window. He likes to look out, sometimes, and watch the empty skies. There's not much to see, not at that altitude, but the achingly open blue draws him in anyway.
"We could play a game?" Kame suggests. "Taguchi keeps sending us challenge messages on our seat screens. That should kill a few hours."
At the sound of his name, Taguchi turns round and peeks through the gap between the seats in front. "It'll be fun!"
"Not in the mood," Jin says glumly. "And you know I hate to lose."
Kame nods in amused agreement and extends one finger to gently push Taguchi back through the gap. "Can't argue with that. Then, how about watching a movie? You can get in some more English practice. Or," he consults the in-flight movie guide, "you could make a start on learning French."
Jin ignores him and pulls the plastic cover off his blanket. It's cold onboard, and even in his jacket he's still chilled. Sometimes he's made of ice, frozen shards running the length of his body under glacial skin. If he doesn't keep moving he'll freeze up altogether.
Kame fishes underneath his chair and pulls out his own blanket, and when he throws it over himself he's careful to include Jin as much as possible. The armrest between them has long since been pushed up and out of the way.
"I don't want to put my headphones back on," Jin eventually explains as the cabin lights are switched off and most of the passengers settle down to attempt sleep. "My ears feel too weird. Why'd you think I haven't been listening to music for the last three hours?"
"I assumed it was because you wanted to annoy me by inflicting your boredom on everyone around you." Kame hastily recants his theory when his infuriated seatmate hits him with a pillow.
"If it's that much of a problem for you, go trade seats with Ueda or something."
"Ueda is asleep," comes a voice from in front. Since the owner of the voice happens to be Ueda himself, Jin is not inclined to believe this.
In the darkness, Kame smiles to himself and snuggles closer to Jin, confident that neither their fellow flyers nor the cabin crew can see them. "I didn't say it was a problem, did I?"
Under the blankets, Jin snuggles back. Kame's body heat is just begging to be borrowed. Kame used to be all angles: sharp bones and jagged edges, digging into Jin where he least expected it. Now he's gained a little meat - not quite enough to make him a member of that small, select group of Jyannis who are not actually underweight - but enough so that when they're together, Jin doesn't feel like he's in bed with a skeleton anymore.
"You're comfortable," he says happily, then frowns. "But I'm still bored."
Nakamaru pops his head over the top of the seat and snickers at them, prompting Koki to do the same. "Told you they'd be all over each other the moment the lights went out," he says. "Want to take a picture and mail it to the press?"
"Too dark; we'll have to put the light on. Where's that seat remote?" Koki pretends to scrabble around for the control.
Kame looks up and makes a face at the intruders. "You can't tell me you guys aren't taking advantage of the situation yourselves."
"Unlike you, we have some self-control," Nakamaru says loftily before sitting back down.
Not true - Kame has self-control, more so than anyone else in the band. His career is based around it. It's just that when it comes to Jin, it's so easy to lose control. Because sometimes Jin is made of fire, burning brightly in the night, and Kame is drawn to the flame.
He doesn't care if the others hear them, so long as they're the only ones, but he whispers anyway, putting his mouth close to Jin's ear, gently brushing aside the curls to murmur, "I know something we could do, and it would make you feel warmer too."
Kame's intentions are no mystery, not when his right hand is slipping beneath the blankets to rest on Jin's left hip and his breath is warm on Jin's skin. Jin peers nervously around the cabin, knowing that if anyone realises what they're doing they'll both be on permanent hiatus, but everywhere he looks, all he sees are sleeping passengers. And he can only *just* see those, since none of the overhead reading lights are on and almost all the screens are dark. Taguchi's is still lit up, showing a racing game, but he's wearing headphones now and won't hear them.
Edging forward, Kame plants a soft kiss on Jin's cheek. "Relax. No one's watching. Those two," referring to the seats behind them, "might tease but I guarantee you they're curling up under the blankets themselves right now - probably with headphones on. Just keep quiet - and I promise not to touch your collarbone. I don't want to wake everyone up!"
The mere mention makes him squirm, and he hopes Kame's telling the truth because otherwise, he's going to have a tough time staying silent. Kame likes to tease, to play around, but he's probably not ready to throw his career away over a case of wandering hands. "Don't make any sudden moves," Jin murmurs back.
"Or you'll shoot? Are we in a crime drama now? Too bad I left my handcuffs at home."
"Handcuffs?" Jin splutters.
It's too dark to make it worth Kame's while to wink, so he settles for lightly squeezing Jin's hip to show he's not being serious. "I'm kidding. I'm sure Ueda would lend us his if you're interested, though."
Jin's brain, never the most dedicated of workers, momentarily ceases to function. Exactly what Ueda does in his private life, no one knows - and really, no one wants to know. But for Kame, sharing a room in Okinawa with Ueda has proven most illuminating.
"I'm *not* interested," Jin says flatly, and Kame drops the subject. Jin likes his freedom - isn't much fun to be around when he's deprived of it - and Kame's keen to keep him happy. It's much more enjoyable for both of them that way. In any case, he'd never have made it through Security carrying handcuffs.
His hand leaves Jin's hip and trails lazily inwards along the denim. There's no rush - France is still a long way ahead of them - and they can take their time. Kame's fingers slowly make their way round the waistband of Jin's faded blue jeans, pressing heavily enough that his touch doesn't tickle. It does, however, make Jin wish he hadn't eaten quite so much at lunch.
"Sorry," Kame mutters as a sudden bout of turbulence causes his fingers to slip, jabbing viciously at the other man's skin; Jin winces and sucks in his stomach reflexively.
"Next time I want to eat cake before getting on a plane, don't let me."
"I didn't let you *this* time," Kame says dryly. "You got Koki to distract me with pictures of kittens so you could sneak off and go to that café. You could at least have bought me a piece - Dream Boys is over, I'm allowed to eat again."
Jin silently vows to drag Kame to every dessert place he can think of, including ones where even Yamapi has turned down the food for being too rich, just as soon as they get back from this photobook trip to Paris. Kame knows entirely too much about dieting for work, and while Jin doesn't exactly want to fatten him up, he can't help but feel that adding a few more pounds would only enhance Kame's slender figure. (It would also make Jin feel less ungainly in comparison, but that's merely an added bonus.)
"Next time," he promises, "we can split a couple of pieces. Mix and match."
Kame lets his hand drift lower, settling between Jin's legs, and he grins when those legs spread slightly to allow him easier access. "When the two of us mix, I think we match very well, ne?"
It's not the sort of statement that requires verbal agreement - fortunate, since Jin's vocal cords are otherwise engaged. Conscious of the need for silence, he clamps his mouth shut to muffle the whimpers rising in his throat. He doesn't do a very good job of it. Kame reaches across with his free hand and guides Jin's head down to his own shoulder so that all sounds are lost in his jacket. Jin turns to curl up, partly on his own seat, partly on Kame.
"There." Kame sounds satisfied now. "If anyone looks over they'll think you're ill, huddled up like that. I should've known you couldn't keep quiet."
A thought pops to the forefront of his mind and he bites his tongue before he can suggest it to Jin. Why don't you pretend we're filming Cartoon KAT-TUN? You always manage to be quiet then. It's a sore point between them, that Jin is usually content to let the others do all the talking unless he has something he particularly wants to add, a far cry from his younger, pre-LA days. When he's comfortable, Jin can keep going for hours - much to the dismay of anyone who happens to be sharing a room with him - but when he's ill-at-ease, his conversation is slower, more hesitant, and often has to be pried out of him with a verbal crowbar.
Sometimes Jin is made of feathers, all flighty and frivolous, blowing free in the breeze and hard to catch. Kame can stand on the pier and hold out his hand, and if he's lucky, a passing feather will fall into it. When the feathers get wet, they clomp together into a sodden lump of misery. Filming Yukan Club has helped a lot, Kame thinks, because Jin has been thrown in at the deep end - sometimes by himself, sometimes with Taguchi - and his determination has won through.
Even so, seductive stage-antics notwithstanding, the current Akanishi Jin is much more reticent than the previous model and Kame can't often actively draw him out in public without attracting unwanted attention from higher up. The last thing they want is another warning. Heaven forbid that a pair of idols might actually have private lives.
"You of all people should've known that." Jin's words are barely discernable, being swallowed up by fabric, but Kame gets the gist.
Not bothering to undo Jin's jeans, he continues his explorations with enthusiasm, fingers squeezing and shaping sensitive skin through the layer of denim. Jin is as responsive as ever, arching into his touch despite the awkward angle. Were it not for that, Kame would fear that the older man is genuinely ill - based on the sounds emanating from his throat, Kame would have good cause to believe him suffering from some excruciatingly painful complaint.
Kame's suffering from a complaint of his own, but there's no way Jin can touch him from that position and in any case, it's a pleasurable sort of pain. A sweet ache, almost, and one that Kame hopes to soothe at the earliest opportunity.
A flight attendant approaches to offer them drinks; Kame doesn't miss a beat, effortlessly matching her professional smile when he declines. She looks worriedly at Jin. Kame assures her that his friend is simply a bad flier and routinely spends plane trips curled up in a small ball, complaining bitterly to anyone who'll listen. The attendant seems dubious, but Jin's piteous moan clinches it and she exchanges a sympathetic glance with Kame before continuing on her way.
"Perfect timing," he comments.
"My timing's always perfect," Jin says smugly, and that makes Kame laugh.
"Close enough."
It's an entertaining way to spend the flight, immersed in tender strokes and teasing. Jin forgets to be annoyed with Kame for lying to the attendant and concentrates on controlling his breathing so the cabin crew don't think he's hyperventilating. It's difficult enough to breathe, cramped as he is, but he's been in more uncomfortable positions before - work-related, not pleasure - and he can't worry about the aches he'll have later, not when he has Kame touching him so slowly and lovingly that he thinks the plane will land before he's allowed release.
"I'm not made of glass, you know," he gasps as quietly as he can.
But sometimes he is. There are times when Jin feels that everyone can see right through him...and times when the glass mists over and the real Akanishi Jin hides beneath the murky surface. The trick is to find the balance, and he knows he hasn't managed it yet. It's why acting doesn't come naturally to him, why he can't help blurting embarrassing things out in public and why he can only be satisfied with his honest smile. His glass never reflects, merely cracks, and for a long time, he thought Kame had shattered it altogether.
Six months in LA repaired some of the cracks, yet new ones have appeared, and these, Jin's still trying to figure out. His glass needs polish to make it shine, and he hopes that if he polishes it enough, he'll learn to reflect, to keep things out. Kame can advise, but Jin needs to do this for himself.
"I know." Kame takes the hint when Jin suddenly closes up, trapping Kame's arm between his legs. "But there's still almost ten hours left to go on this flight and I'm in no rush. If I was, I'd have dragged you into the bathroom ages ago."
Jin grimaces at the thought. "I don't care if we do work for the skinniest industry in the world - there's barely enough room for me in one of those things, let alone both of us."
"I'm sure we could manage if we were properly motivated..." Kame trails off suggestively, having just considered the benefits to himself of having even a modicum of privacy.
Jin's response suggests that all the motivation in the world would not be enough to persuade him to attempt such a thing, and it takes Kame five minutes to coax him back into position. It's not the first time Jin has turned him down for a rendez-vous in an unorthodox location - for someone with such a sexy image, the older man can be surprisingly staid in his tastes.
"Don't sulk," Kame says. "This trip's long enough already. Besides, I wasn't seriously considering it."
"Good," Jin says vehemently. "It'd be just like the time you got bored on the ferry, or decided you just couldn't wait till after the show at Dream Boys and locked us in your dressing room during the interval."
Kame uses a pillow for cover and bends down to give him a quick, upside-down kiss on the forehead, because that's as far as he can reach. Jin confuses him, but Jin does that to a lot of people. "You don't want me to want you?"
Jin shakes his head. "I don't like feeling cheap, Kame. Cheap and *used*. I want to be able to walk out afterwards feeling like I'm more than a quick fix for you, and that doesn't happen when you..." Embarrassment takes over, forcing him to abandon the end of his sentence, but Kame thinks he understands.
"Is that why you won't touch me when we're not at home?" When Jin nods, Kame can feel it against his shoulder. "Then what about what we're doing now? Or doesn't that count?"
"We're not doing much of anything," Jin points out, which is quite true. One of Kame's hands is under the blanket, resting on Jin's stomach, and the other is absently finger-combing tangles out of his hair.
Ueda's sleepy voice emerges from the gloom in front of them. "Whatever you're not doing, can you not do it a little quieter? None of us got any rest last night and I don't want to fall asleep at the shoot." He momentarily switches on the overhead light to plug in his own headphones, then plunges them back into darkness.
"At least now none of them can hear us not doing anything," Kame says philosophically, and that makes Jin feel slightly better.
Sometimes, Jin is made of chocolate, a temptingly tasty treat. Solid and unyielding until Kame applies body heat, making him melt and he liquefies, lying lazy and sticky and practically pleading to be licked clean. He's melting now, insides unravelling strand by strand under Kame's touch.
"It doesn't count."
"Because you say so?" Kame is used to Jin's particular brand of logic, which is that he's always right except when he chooses to admit otherwise - which isn't often.
"Yeah. Because it's not like we're supposed to be somewhere else, or doing something else, and we're still going to be stuck here for nearly half a day. And this is comfortable." Jin tries to stretch his legs, encounters a wall and gives up. "Sort of."
"You can't say my dressing room wasn't comfortable," Kame points out. "The couch was really soft."
"It was, only you had so much piled up on it we ended up against the dressing table instead."
Kame's lips part in an embarrassed grin. "So we did. You broke the drawer handle."
"It was an accident!"
"Shh," Kame hushes him, noting that their neighbour across the aisle is starting to stir. "Too loud."
"If you want to shut me up, do it properly."
No amount of hiding behind the tiny airline pillow will allow Kame to give Jin more than a quick peck, and if he hides them both under the blanket it won't just be Nakamaru and Koki getting suspicious. He settles instead for using his hands, trailing the one out of Jin's hair and down his back, and letting the other drift casually down from his stomach. Despite his sulks, Jin's still hard, and Kame refuses to undo his jeans and set him free.
"That's a good start," Jin breathes, then bites down on his lip as he bucks helplessly into Kame's hand.
"I thought you were shutting up?" Kame fails to elicit a verbal response from him but a physical one is more than sufficient, and he figures now is as good a time as any to apologise - now, when Jin would forgive him anything so long as he doesn't stop touching him.
He slips the hand on Jin's back underneath the heavy jacket, plaid shirt and T-shirt till he finally reaches smooth, bare skin, and begins caressing slow, soft-centered circles. "I'm sorry," he says, and hopes Jin will understand him. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. Maybe we're all whores for them," he indicates the surrounding public with a careless shake of his head, "but you're not for me. You never have been."
Jin laughs when he comes, but there's a bitter edge to it. "Not a cheap one, anyway."
Kame rests his chin lightly atop Jin's mass of curls. "Why can't you appreciate yourself anymore? Is that what they taught you in America?"
"What's there to appreciate?"
"Plenty, but you're not conning me into giving you a list."
Jin's laughter sounds more genuine now; he's the only one who knows otherwise, covered by the roar of the engines. Sometimes he knows he's the best, sometimes he knows he's hopelessly outmatched. Sometimes his confidence is unshakeable, sometimes it's a rickety straw shack in the middle of an earthquake. Projecting an image in public is one thing, but he doesn't want to have to do the same in private. It's too much to ask.
Because sometimes, Jin's made of emotions, feelings that shine through on his face. All or nothing: everything or a blank. Happiness and love meet sadness and fear. Confidence goes to war with anxiety and bittersweet memories swamp the lot. More often than not, loneliness wins out, and he'll crave company to combat it. He loves people, loves kids, loves his friends, loves his family...and after all these years, maturing from boyish Juniors to whatever they are now, he still loves Kame.
"You wouldn't believe me even if I gave you a list, would you?" Kame says sadly. "You know what you can do to people and you don't understand why."
"Isn't it a good thing to be modest?"
"Don't sell yourself short, Jin."
Kame releases him then, to go to the bathroom and clean himself up. He doesn't follow. He's pretty sure they'd have no trouble fitting both of them in the tiny room, but Jin's made his opposition clear and in this case at least, Kame's own needs come second.
He's used to that. All his life he's been accommodating, helpful and willing. Oh, certainly he's been stubborn too, and always with good reason. He'll argue, he'll fight for what he knows to be right. But it's all part of the plan, all part of the drive to take them higher and higher. Kame's shunned Jin in public for the sake of his career, he's done what he's been told and now he's finally starting to have some freedom in his choices, he's amazed that Jin still wants him.
For that, he'll put up with any number of quirks and insecurities.
It's a long time before Jin returns to his seat; Kame fishes out his mp3 player and waits for him. He gets stuck on a ballad playlist and closes his eyes, letting the music drown his desires, when the right earphone is suddenly ripped away from him and Jin asks, "Still want me to take care of you?"
Kame is not at all surprised to find he's no longer aroused. "No need."
Jin's not sure whether to believe him or not. He sits back down, drawing the blanket over himself again, and notices that while he's been in the bathroom - the door got stuck and there was no way he was going to press the 'help' button - Kame's put the armrest back into position.
So he pushes it up again.
"There's more room without this thing," he says when Kame turns his head and pulls out the other earphone. "Besides, you'll be lonely without me."
Sometimes I'm lonely *with* you, Kame thinks to himself. Because you don't always tell me what you want.
He doesn't say any of this, though. Jin tugs on his sleeve till he shuffles across the seat and presses himself against Jin's side, content to use the older man as a warm, breathing pillow. Jin's always had more meat on his bones than the others, and Kame thinks it suits him.
"Feeling better?" he asks.
Jin reaches for Kame's hand under their shared blankets; his grip is firm. He considers the question for a moment. "A bit."
They sit in silence now, propping each other up and waiting for sleep to overtake them. Jin's internal switch has flicked from off to on, so his answer to Kame is honest. He does feel better, now that he's explained himself to Kame - as best he can, anyway - and the relief spreads through his body like rays through a raindrop, splitting into glorious colour.
There isn't always such a rainbow in Jin's life. His relationship with Kame is characterised by its ups and downs, whether as bandmates, friends or lovers, and for every happy memory there's a sad one to match. Despite this, he can be hopeful for the future - whatever happens, they'll work it out somehow.
Because sometimes, Jin is made of light.
----- Owari -----
Fandom: KAT-TUN
Pairing: Akame
Rating: R to be safe (m/m activity)
Genre: A little humour, a little romance, but mostly angst.
Word count: Approx. 4,100
Disclaimer: Not mine, damnit.
Summary: KAT-TUN are headed to France to shoot their new photobook, and Jin gets bored on the plane. Luckily, Kame knows how to keep him entertained...
Author's Notes
Sometimes Jin's made of...
Before I went on holiday, lilmatchgirl007 made a throwaway comment to me about Akame on the plane, and I said I wasn't going to do it. But when you're on a twelve-hour flight you get to daydreaming, which, with me, inevitably leads to fic. I'm pretty sure this wasn't what Matchy had in mind, though!
I appreciate that I usually write happy endings, so I will warn you now: you won't find one here. Not that it's a sad ending or anything...not really an ending at all, actually, which is a bad thing for a writer to admit. I have an unfortunate tendency to inflict all sorts of issues on poor Jin, though it's frequently Kame who suffers the most because of them. If you try extremely hard, you can probably shoehorn this into this month's theme, as there is indeed some confusion and quite possibly even some omission and abstraction as well.
This fic takes place a short while after Yukan Club finishes filming, which I guess would put it end of 2007/beginning of 2008. Don't worry. Nobody dies, gets hurt, maimed, sick or damaged in any other way. They just get a little pensive, that's all.
Composition
Sometimes, Jin is made of coiled springs, curling in tight spirals to compress, suppress and otherwise repress him.
There isn't much leg room on the flight - their management refused to spring for first class, or even premium economy - and the six members of KAT-TUN are crammed in with the rest of the cattle. They sit in pairs along the right-hand side: Ueda and Taguchi in front, Nakamaru and Koki in the back, and Kame and Jin in the middle.
Jin doesn't do well on planes, long legs tucked wherever he can find space and nervous energy desperate to find an outlet. Three hours in and he's already made Kame get up four times so he can go walkies, but despite Kame's offer to change seats so that Jin can have the aisle, Jin refuses to switch, and hangs on selfishly to the window. He likes to look out, sometimes, and watch the empty skies. There's not much to see, not at that altitude, but the achingly open blue draws him in anyway.
"We could play a game?" Kame suggests. "Taguchi keeps sending us challenge messages on our seat screens. That should kill a few hours."
At the sound of his name, Taguchi turns round and peeks through the gap between the seats in front. "It'll be fun!"
"Not in the mood," Jin says glumly. "And you know I hate to lose."
Kame nods in amused agreement and extends one finger to gently push Taguchi back through the gap. "Can't argue with that. Then, how about watching a movie? You can get in some more English practice. Or," he consults the in-flight movie guide, "you could make a start on learning French."
Jin ignores him and pulls the plastic cover off his blanket. It's cold onboard, and even in his jacket he's still chilled. Sometimes he's made of ice, frozen shards running the length of his body under glacial skin. If he doesn't keep moving he'll freeze up altogether.
Kame fishes underneath his chair and pulls out his own blanket, and when he throws it over himself he's careful to include Jin as much as possible. The armrest between them has long since been pushed up and out of the way.
"I don't want to put my headphones back on," Jin eventually explains as the cabin lights are switched off and most of the passengers settle down to attempt sleep. "My ears feel too weird. Why'd you think I haven't been listening to music for the last three hours?"
"I assumed it was because you wanted to annoy me by inflicting your boredom on everyone around you." Kame hastily recants his theory when his infuriated seatmate hits him with a pillow.
"If it's that much of a problem for you, go trade seats with Ueda or something."
"Ueda is asleep," comes a voice from in front. Since the owner of the voice happens to be Ueda himself, Jin is not inclined to believe this.
In the darkness, Kame smiles to himself and snuggles closer to Jin, confident that neither their fellow flyers nor the cabin crew can see them. "I didn't say it was a problem, did I?"
Under the blankets, Jin snuggles back. Kame's body heat is just begging to be borrowed. Kame used to be all angles: sharp bones and jagged edges, digging into Jin where he least expected it. Now he's gained a little meat - not quite enough to make him a member of that small, select group of Jyannis who are not actually underweight - but enough so that when they're together, Jin doesn't feel like he's in bed with a skeleton anymore.
"You're comfortable," he says happily, then frowns. "But I'm still bored."
Nakamaru pops his head over the top of the seat and snickers at them, prompting Koki to do the same. "Told you they'd be all over each other the moment the lights went out," he says. "Want to take a picture and mail it to the press?"
"Too dark; we'll have to put the light on. Where's that seat remote?" Koki pretends to scrabble around for the control.
Kame looks up and makes a face at the intruders. "You can't tell me you guys aren't taking advantage of the situation yourselves."
"Unlike you, we have some self-control," Nakamaru says loftily before sitting back down.
Not true - Kame has self-control, more so than anyone else in the band. His career is based around it. It's just that when it comes to Jin, it's so easy to lose control. Because sometimes Jin is made of fire, burning brightly in the night, and Kame is drawn to the flame.
He doesn't care if the others hear them, so long as they're the only ones, but he whispers anyway, putting his mouth close to Jin's ear, gently brushing aside the curls to murmur, "I know something we could do, and it would make you feel warmer too."
Kame's intentions are no mystery, not when his right hand is slipping beneath the blankets to rest on Jin's left hip and his breath is warm on Jin's skin. Jin peers nervously around the cabin, knowing that if anyone realises what they're doing they'll both be on permanent hiatus, but everywhere he looks, all he sees are sleeping passengers. And he can only *just* see those, since none of the overhead reading lights are on and almost all the screens are dark. Taguchi's is still lit up, showing a racing game, but he's wearing headphones now and won't hear them.
Edging forward, Kame plants a soft kiss on Jin's cheek. "Relax. No one's watching. Those two," referring to the seats behind them, "might tease but I guarantee you they're curling up under the blankets themselves right now - probably with headphones on. Just keep quiet - and I promise not to touch your collarbone. I don't want to wake everyone up!"
The mere mention makes him squirm, and he hopes Kame's telling the truth because otherwise, he's going to have a tough time staying silent. Kame likes to tease, to play around, but he's probably not ready to throw his career away over a case of wandering hands. "Don't make any sudden moves," Jin murmurs back.
"Or you'll shoot? Are we in a crime drama now? Too bad I left my handcuffs at home."
"Handcuffs?" Jin splutters.
It's too dark to make it worth Kame's while to wink, so he settles for lightly squeezing Jin's hip to show he's not being serious. "I'm kidding. I'm sure Ueda would lend us his if you're interested, though."
Jin's brain, never the most dedicated of workers, momentarily ceases to function. Exactly what Ueda does in his private life, no one knows - and really, no one wants to know. But for Kame, sharing a room in Okinawa with Ueda has proven most illuminating.
"I'm *not* interested," Jin says flatly, and Kame drops the subject. Jin likes his freedom - isn't much fun to be around when he's deprived of it - and Kame's keen to keep him happy. It's much more enjoyable for both of them that way. In any case, he'd never have made it through Security carrying handcuffs.
His hand leaves Jin's hip and trails lazily inwards along the denim. There's no rush - France is still a long way ahead of them - and they can take their time. Kame's fingers slowly make their way round the waistband of Jin's faded blue jeans, pressing heavily enough that his touch doesn't tickle. It does, however, make Jin wish he hadn't eaten quite so much at lunch.
"Sorry," Kame mutters as a sudden bout of turbulence causes his fingers to slip, jabbing viciously at the other man's skin; Jin winces and sucks in his stomach reflexively.
"Next time I want to eat cake before getting on a plane, don't let me."
"I didn't let you *this* time," Kame says dryly. "You got Koki to distract me with pictures of kittens so you could sneak off and go to that café. You could at least have bought me a piece - Dream Boys is over, I'm allowed to eat again."
Jin silently vows to drag Kame to every dessert place he can think of, including ones where even Yamapi has turned down the food for being too rich, just as soon as they get back from this photobook trip to Paris. Kame knows entirely too much about dieting for work, and while Jin doesn't exactly want to fatten him up, he can't help but feel that adding a few more pounds would only enhance Kame's slender figure. (It would also make Jin feel less ungainly in comparison, but that's merely an added bonus.)
"Next time," he promises, "we can split a couple of pieces. Mix and match."
Kame lets his hand drift lower, settling between Jin's legs, and he grins when those legs spread slightly to allow him easier access. "When the two of us mix, I think we match very well, ne?"
It's not the sort of statement that requires verbal agreement - fortunate, since Jin's vocal cords are otherwise engaged. Conscious of the need for silence, he clamps his mouth shut to muffle the whimpers rising in his throat. He doesn't do a very good job of it. Kame reaches across with his free hand and guides Jin's head down to his own shoulder so that all sounds are lost in his jacket. Jin turns to curl up, partly on his own seat, partly on Kame.
"There." Kame sounds satisfied now. "If anyone looks over they'll think you're ill, huddled up like that. I should've known you couldn't keep quiet."
A thought pops to the forefront of his mind and he bites his tongue before he can suggest it to Jin. Why don't you pretend we're filming Cartoon KAT-TUN? You always manage to be quiet then. It's a sore point between them, that Jin is usually content to let the others do all the talking unless he has something he particularly wants to add, a far cry from his younger, pre-LA days. When he's comfortable, Jin can keep going for hours - much to the dismay of anyone who happens to be sharing a room with him - but when he's ill-at-ease, his conversation is slower, more hesitant, and often has to be pried out of him with a verbal crowbar.
Sometimes Jin is made of feathers, all flighty and frivolous, blowing free in the breeze and hard to catch. Kame can stand on the pier and hold out his hand, and if he's lucky, a passing feather will fall into it. When the feathers get wet, they clomp together into a sodden lump of misery. Filming Yukan Club has helped a lot, Kame thinks, because Jin has been thrown in at the deep end - sometimes by himself, sometimes with Taguchi - and his determination has won through.
Even so, seductive stage-antics notwithstanding, the current Akanishi Jin is much more reticent than the previous model and Kame can't often actively draw him out in public without attracting unwanted attention from higher up. The last thing they want is another warning. Heaven forbid that a pair of idols might actually have private lives.
"You of all people should've known that." Jin's words are barely discernable, being swallowed up by fabric, but Kame gets the gist.
Not bothering to undo Jin's jeans, he continues his explorations with enthusiasm, fingers squeezing and shaping sensitive skin through the layer of denim. Jin is as responsive as ever, arching into his touch despite the awkward angle. Were it not for that, Kame would fear that the older man is genuinely ill - based on the sounds emanating from his throat, Kame would have good cause to believe him suffering from some excruciatingly painful complaint.
Kame's suffering from a complaint of his own, but there's no way Jin can touch him from that position and in any case, it's a pleasurable sort of pain. A sweet ache, almost, and one that Kame hopes to soothe at the earliest opportunity.
A flight attendant approaches to offer them drinks; Kame doesn't miss a beat, effortlessly matching her professional smile when he declines. She looks worriedly at Jin. Kame assures her that his friend is simply a bad flier and routinely spends plane trips curled up in a small ball, complaining bitterly to anyone who'll listen. The attendant seems dubious, but Jin's piteous moan clinches it and she exchanges a sympathetic glance with Kame before continuing on her way.
"Perfect timing," he comments.
"My timing's always perfect," Jin says smugly, and that makes Kame laugh.
"Close enough."
It's an entertaining way to spend the flight, immersed in tender strokes and teasing. Jin forgets to be annoyed with Kame for lying to the attendant and concentrates on controlling his breathing so the cabin crew don't think he's hyperventilating. It's difficult enough to breathe, cramped as he is, but he's been in more uncomfortable positions before - work-related, not pleasure - and he can't worry about the aches he'll have later, not when he has Kame touching him so slowly and lovingly that he thinks the plane will land before he's allowed release.
"I'm not made of glass, you know," he gasps as quietly as he can.
But sometimes he is. There are times when Jin feels that everyone can see right through him...and times when the glass mists over and the real Akanishi Jin hides beneath the murky surface. The trick is to find the balance, and he knows he hasn't managed it yet. It's why acting doesn't come naturally to him, why he can't help blurting embarrassing things out in public and why he can only be satisfied with his honest smile. His glass never reflects, merely cracks, and for a long time, he thought Kame had shattered it altogether.
Six months in LA repaired some of the cracks, yet new ones have appeared, and these, Jin's still trying to figure out. His glass needs polish to make it shine, and he hopes that if he polishes it enough, he'll learn to reflect, to keep things out. Kame can advise, but Jin needs to do this for himself.
"I know." Kame takes the hint when Jin suddenly closes up, trapping Kame's arm between his legs. "But there's still almost ten hours left to go on this flight and I'm in no rush. If I was, I'd have dragged you into the bathroom ages ago."
Jin grimaces at the thought. "I don't care if we do work for the skinniest industry in the world - there's barely enough room for me in one of those things, let alone both of us."
"I'm sure we could manage if we were properly motivated..." Kame trails off suggestively, having just considered the benefits to himself of having even a modicum of privacy.
Jin's response suggests that all the motivation in the world would not be enough to persuade him to attempt such a thing, and it takes Kame five minutes to coax him back into position. It's not the first time Jin has turned him down for a rendez-vous in an unorthodox location - for someone with such a sexy image, the older man can be surprisingly staid in his tastes.
"Don't sulk," Kame says. "This trip's long enough already. Besides, I wasn't seriously considering it."
"Good," Jin says vehemently. "It'd be just like the time you got bored on the ferry, or decided you just couldn't wait till after the show at Dream Boys and locked us in your dressing room during the interval."
Kame uses a pillow for cover and bends down to give him a quick, upside-down kiss on the forehead, because that's as far as he can reach. Jin confuses him, but Jin does that to a lot of people. "You don't want me to want you?"
Jin shakes his head. "I don't like feeling cheap, Kame. Cheap and *used*. I want to be able to walk out afterwards feeling like I'm more than a quick fix for you, and that doesn't happen when you..." Embarrassment takes over, forcing him to abandon the end of his sentence, but Kame thinks he understands.
"Is that why you won't touch me when we're not at home?" When Jin nods, Kame can feel it against his shoulder. "Then what about what we're doing now? Or doesn't that count?"
"We're not doing much of anything," Jin points out, which is quite true. One of Kame's hands is under the blanket, resting on Jin's stomach, and the other is absently finger-combing tangles out of his hair.
Ueda's sleepy voice emerges from the gloom in front of them. "Whatever you're not doing, can you not do it a little quieter? None of us got any rest last night and I don't want to fall asleep at the shoot." He momentarily switches on the overhead light to plug in his own headphones, then plunges them back into darkness.
"At least now none of them can hear us not doing anything," Kame says philosophically, and that makes Jin feel slightly better.
Sometimes, Jin is made of chocolate, a temptingly tasty treat. Solid and unyielding until Kame applies body heat, making him melt and he liquefies, lying lazy and sticky and practically pleading to be licked clean. He's melting now, insides unravelling strand by strand under Kame's touch.
"It doesn't count."
"Because you say so?" Kame is used to Jin's particular brand of logic, which is that he's always right except when he chooses to admit otherwise - which isn't often.
"Yeah. Because it's not like we're supposed to be somewhere else, or doing something else, and we're still going to be stuck here for nearly half a day. And this is comfortable." Jin tries to stretch his legs, encounters a wall and gives up. "Sort of."
"You can't say my dressing room wasn't comfortable," Kame points out. "The couch was really soft."
"It was, only you had so much piled up on it we ended up against the dressing table instead."
Kame's lips part in an embarrassed grin. "So we did. You broke the drawer handle."
"It was an accident!"
"Shh," Kame hushes him, noting that their neighbour across the aisle is starting to stir. "Too loud."
"If you want to shut me up, do it properly."
No amount of hiding behind the tiny airline pillow will allow Kame to give Jin more than a quick peck, and if he hides them both under the blanket it won't just be Nakamaru and Koki getting suspicious. He settles instead for using his hands, trailing the one out of Jin's hair and down his back, and letting the other drift casually down from his stomach. Despite his sulks, Jin's still hard, and Kame refuses to undo his jeans and set him free.
"That's a good start," Jin breathes, then bites down on his lip as he bucks helplessly into Kame's hand.
"I thought you were shutting up?" Kame fails to elicit a verbal response from him but a physical one is more than sufficient, and he figures now is as good a time as any to apologise - now, when Jin would forgive him anything so long as he doesn't stop touching him.
He slips the hand on Jin's back underneath the heavy jacket, plaid shirt and T-shirt till he finally reaches smooth, bare skin, and begins caressing slow, soft-centered circles. "I'm sorry," he says, and hopes Jin will understand him. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. Maybe we're all whores for them," he indicates the surrounding public with a careless shake of his head, "but you're not for me. You never have been."
Jin laughs when he comes, but there's a bitter edge to it. "Not a cheap one, anyway."
Kame rests his chin lightly atop Jin's mass of curls. "Why can't you appreciate yourself anymore? Is that what they taught you in America?"
"What's there to appreciate?"
"Plenty, but you're not conning me into giving you a list."
Jin's laughter sounds more genuine now; he's the only one who knows otherwise, covered by the roar of the engines. Sometimes he knows he's the best, sometimes he knows he's hopelessly outmatched. Sometimes his confidence is unshakeable, sometimes it's a rickety straw shack in the middle of an earthquake. Projecting an image in public is one thing, but he doesn't want to have to do the same in private. It's too much to ask.
Because sometimes, Jin's made of emotions, feelings that shine through on his face. All or nothing: everything or a blank. Happiness and love meet sadness and fear. Confidence goes to war with anxiety and bittersweet memories swamp the lot. More often than not, loneliness wins out, and he'll crave company to combat it. He loves people, loves kids, loves his friends, loves his family...and after all these years, maturing from boyish Juniors to whatever they are now, he still loves Kame.
"You wouldn't believe me even if I gave you a list, would you?" Kame says sadly. "You know what you can do to people and you don't understand why."
"Isn't it a good thing to be modest?"
"Don't sell yourself short, Jin."
Kame releases him then, to go to the bathroom and clean himself up. He doesn't follow. He's pretty sure they'd have no trouble fitting both of them in the tiny room, but Jin's made his opposition clear and in this case at least, Kame's own needs come second.
He's used to that. All his life he's been accommodating, helpful and willing. Oh, certainly he's been stubborn too, and always with good reason. He'll argue, he'll fight for what he knows to be right. But it's all part of the plan, all part of the drive to take them higher and higher. Kame's shunned Jin in public for the sake of his career, he's done what he's been told and now he's finally starting to have some freedom in his choices, he's amazed that Jin still wants him.
For that, he'll put up with any number of quirks and insecurities.
It's a long time before Jin returns to his seat; Kame fishes out his mp3 player and waits for him. He gets stuck on a ballad playlist and closes his eyes, letting the music drown his desires, when the right earphone is suddenly ripped away from him and Jin asks, "Still want me to take care of you?"
Kame is not at all surprised to find he's no longer aroused. "No need."
Jin's not sure whether to believe him or not. He sits back down, drawing the blanket over himself again, and notices that while he's been in the bathroom - the door got stuck and there was no way he was going to press the 'help' button - Kame's put the armrest back into position.
So he pushes it up again.
"There's more room without this thing," he says when Kame turns his head and pulls out the other earphone. "Besides, you'll be lonely without me."
Sometimes I'm lonely *with* you, Kame thinks to himself. Because you don't always tell me what you want.
He doesn't say any of this, though. Jin tugs on his sleeve till he shuffles across the seat and presses himself against Jin's side, content to use the older man as a warm, breathing pillow. Jin's always had more meat on his bones than the others, and Kame thinks it suits him.
"Feeling better?" he asks.
Jin reaches for Kame's hand under their shared blankets; his grip is firm. He considers the question for a moment. "A bit."
They sit in silence now, propping each other up and waiting for sleep to overtake them. Jin's internal switch has flicked from off to on, so his answer to Kame is honest. He does feel better, now that he's explained himself to Kame - as best he can, anyway - and the relief spreads through his body like rays through a raindrop, splitting into glorious colour.
There isn't always such a rainbow in Jin's life. His relationship with Kame is characterised by its ups and downs, whether as bandmates, friends or lovers, and for every happy memory there's a sad one to match. Despite this, he can be hopeful for the future - whatever happens, they'll work it out somehow.
Because sometimes, Jin is made of light.
----- Owari -----