Rating/Warnings: R for Senga's preferred method of distraction.
Summary: Kis-My-Ft2 has their photoshoot in Hawaii, Nikaido is a brat, and Senga isn't worried.
AN: Early birthday fic for Nikaido! Although it's the 6th in Japan, already, so it's not THAT early. He's 18! which is good for...nothing. Except maybe joining Coat (OMG SOMEBODY WRITE THAT PLZ). Also about that fact that Kisumai got their own shoot in Hawaii for the Summary photos, and didn't know about the October con yet.
More visual aid from snowqueenofhoth and you ought to be glad I'm not using the nipple picture.
No Need To Worry
Hawaii is hot and beautiful and amazing, and if Johnny will spend this kind of money on all of them as a group, then Nikaido doesn’t think it’s such a stretch to hope that maybe they’ll get to stay like this, maybe forever.
Kitayama, lying prone in the hammock, doesn’t even open his eyes when he reminds Nikaido not to say shit like that out loud. It didn’t do Yabu-kun any good, and Nikaido certainly isn’t Yabu Kota.
“Oh, shut up,” Nikaido retorts, kicking at the hammock from his chair, but it’s too hot to put any force into it and the hammock barely swings two inches from the impact. Yokoo, snoring on Kitayama’s other side, doesn’t even budge. “Like you know more than me about being a junior.”
“It’s not your tiny, black heart I’m worried about breaking.” Kitayama cracks an eye to glance to the side, and Nikaido follows the gaze to see Senga on the edge of the porch, whining under Fujigaya’s attempts to put sunblock on him.
“Hunh,” Nikaido grumbles. He stands up to saunter to the end of the porch, giving Kitayama’s hammock another shove on the way by. Yokoo’s soft snore cuts off with a snort, and Kitayama makes a lazy grab at Nikaido’s board shorts to yank them down before Nikaido slaps his hand away with a glare.
“Stop wriggling!” Fujigaya exclaims in exasperation. “Are you five?”
“But it’s cold!” Senga protests, yelping when Fujigaya slaps another handful of sunblock on his bare back. “And it’s gross!”
“We have photoshoots again this afternoon,” Fujigaya scolds as he rubs in the lotion. “You can’t be white as a sheet in half of them and burnt to hell in the rest of them!”
“It works for Ohno-senpai,” Senga says, but he sits still and sulks through the rest of the procedure, especially when he notices Nikaido’s arrival. “Nika! You’ll go to the beach with me, right?”
“Sure,” Nikaido answers, then ducks out of Fujigaya’s reach when Fujigaya turns to him with the sunblock. He grabs Senga’s hand and hops off the porch, dragging Senga along behind him while Fujigaya shouts at them for being brats and also that if they aren’t back on time he’ll let Miyata eat their lunches.
They race to the edge of the water, cheating and tripping each other, and Senga wins by accident by stumbling and crashing into the water just before Nikaido splashes in. Nikaido spares a second to make sure that Senga’s all right before dunking him back under and dumping a handful of wet sand on his head for good measure. Senga gets revenge by grabbing Nikaido’s ankles and upending him into water as well.
They wrestle until they’re coughing and their eyes are stinging with salt, and then they float on their backs in the clear, sun-warm water. Nikaido closes his eyes against the glare of the sun, but reaches out to pinch Senga every few minutes, just to make sure he hasn’t drifted too far.
“You’re gonna get burnt,” Senga says after a bit. “Fujigaya’s gonna yell at you.”
“I don’t care,” Nikaido replies, then grunts when he’s the one that gets pinched for a change.
“You’ll make our photosets look bad,” Senga continues, a little hitch in his voice before ‘our photosets,’ and Nikaido cracks an eye to find Senga grinning at him idiotically.
“We’ve had photosets before, don’t get so excited,” Nikaido cautions, and Kitayama’s earlier warning itches him a little, under his skin.
“It feels different,” Senga insists, and then he rolls over with a little splash so that he’s standing in the water. “Ne, let’s go back.”
“It’s not time yet.” Nikaido lets his eyes slip shut, despite the fact that he has no idea what time it really is. A second later, a warm weight lands hard on his stomach, dropping him down into the water like a rock and pushing all the air out of his lungs.
Senga is clutching his stomach with laughter when Nikaido gets his head above water again, then takes off running when he sees the look in Nikaido’s eyes.
They reach the others out of breath and still shoving at each other, and Fujigaya eyes the red stripes over their noses with a sharp gaze and says that he hopes that a cold shower fixes that. A sleepy-eyed Yokoo only asks in mild confusion if they didn’t have shoes when they started.
Today is Fujigaya’s birthday, so cameras are brought in along with lunch. They sing and present the cake, and Fujigaya blooms under the attention like one of those gaudy native flowers that are everyplace. The staff takes about a thousand pictures, and even though Nikaido gets photographed probably just as much as anybody else, he still works himself into a little bit of a mood by the time it’s all over and done with.
“Oi,” he snaps at Tamamori for hugging Senga a bit too long, and Tamamori looks like he’s about to have something to say about that, before Senga gives him a glance and slips out of Tamamori’s grip with a smile and a roll of his eyes.
“Jealous?” Senga inquires, slipping under Nikaido’s arm, and Nikaido just grunts, wishing he weren’t always so obvious. He curls his fingers tighter around Senga’s shoulder, and Senga pokes him in the ribs. “Fujigaya says you get your own way too much.”
“I don’t get a birthday in Hawaii,” Nikaido replies, managing to keep his voice light, but Senga can see through all that, unfortunately.
“You get a birthday on stage, moron,” Senga chides, letting his head rest on Nikaido’s shoulder as they watch Fujigaya tear into the bright paper of Yokoo’s present like a cat sharpening its claws. “You get fangirls shrieking their heads off and waving uchiwas with your face on it.”
“Hmm, maybe that’s acceptable,” Nikaido says, as if he’s thinking very hard about the pros and cons of it, and Senga shoves him away and tells him to stop being a dick and get him a piece of cake.
The whole thing slips his mind after that, a momentary mood, but later that night, after they all go to their rooms and Nikaido slips into Senga’s bed without even the pretense of using his own, it turns out that Senga hadn’t finished with those thoughts quite so quickly.
“Ne, Nika,” Senga says, voice a bit breathless and fingers stroking through Nikaido’s hair. Nikaido hums a vague reply without lifting his mouth from the hollow of Senga’s throat. “What do you think’ll happen after Summary?”
Nikaido lifts his head far enough to look at Senga’s face and figure out whether this is a new game or what, but Senga is just looking at him, guileless. “What do you mean, what’ll happen? The same stuff as usual, idiot.”
“No, I mean,” Senga wriggles a little underneath him, and Nikaido hisses a breath, “it really does feel different, doesn’t it? Like something’ll happen soon.”
“Don’t say stuff like that,” Nikaido growls, and he kisses Senga to force him to stop. Senga tastes salty from the beach and sweet from the cake, and Nikaido keeps kissing him until Senga is clutching at him so tightly that it hurts a little, in the good way, and they’re both dizzy from lack of air.
“Why not?” Senga wants to know, and Nikaido stares at him, wondering if after everything that’s happened in the Jimusho over the last year, if Senga can really be that much of an idiot.
“Everything’s fine right now,” he finally manages to grunt. What he really means is that everybody is fine right now, and it scares him to try and figure out who would still be on that list if things started changing right that second.
“They could be better,” Senga insists, and Nikaido hugs Senga tighter, until Senga protests.
“You idiot,” Nikaido says, not loosening his grip at all. “You aren’t the only one who things would change for, you know? What if they just take Kitayama and Fujigaya away? What if they make Butoukan permanent? You don’t even know what you’re wishing for! Not all of us have two groups, you know!”
“I know that, Nika.” Senga works one arm loose to brush the hair out of Nikaido’s face, rubbing his palm against the clench of Nikaido’s jaw. “But I don’t think we should be afraid all the time either. Announcements are exciting, aren’t they? Isn’t doing new things fun?”
Senga’s unblinking, wide-eyed gaze makes Nikaido’s chest ache, and it tightens up even more when he thinks about Tamamori and Miyata, about Yokoo and even Goseki. “I guess,” he answers without conviction, because they can’t all be the cute little dancing, singing prodigies that don’t really have to worry about what happens next all the time.
“Don’t worry so much,” Senga advises, leaning up to press his lips against Nikaido’s, “it doesn’t help anything,” and then he wraps arms around Nikaido’s neck and rocks up into him, reminding him that the only thing in between them is Senga’s boxers and Nikaido’s board shorts.
It’s a transparent ploy to distract him, but Nikaido doesn’t care at all as he lets go of Senga to shove their clothing out of the way. He pins Senga’s wrists above his head and grinds down against Senga, making sure the only nonsense Senga can spout for a while is pleas and groans of his name. It’s a sweet sort of torture, since it would probably take forever to actually get off this way, but the way Senga twists underneath him is worth it.
When he can’t take it anymore, Nikaido releases Senga’s wrists and slides down to take Senga’s cock in his mouth. The tip is salty, like Senga’s mouth, like the ocean, and Nikaido growls and swallows more of Senga. Senga buries hands in Nikaido’s hair and urges him on with shallow thrusts of his hips, with the hoarse sounds of his voice. It’s tempting to reach down and fist himself while he sucks Senga off, but Nikaido knows from experience that if he holds off he can probably get Senga to do something even better afterwards.
He almost doesn’t need the help when Senga gives a last broken wail and comes under his hands, and Nikaido clutches at Senga’s hips and hangs on, just barely, as he swallows and sucks Senga clean.
Nikaido stays right where he is, nuzzling at the base of Senga’s cock and the crease of his thigh until Senga bats at his head with a clumsy hand and tells him to knock it off.
“Make me,” Nikaido says, a threat and an offer at the same time, and Senga yanks him up by the hair for a deep kiss, apparently not caring at all that his taste is still heavy in Nikaido’s mouth.
Senga’s hand snakes between them and gives Nikaido a firm stroke, and Nikaido wants to protest that he ought to get more than a handjob out of this, but he’s too close. He gets one hand in Senga’s hair and another around his back and holds Senga as close as he can while Senga pushes him over the edge, letting him spill hot between them.
“Mm,” Senga says after a little bit, rolling away because it’s hot and sticky in their room even without the sex. He doesn’t go far, though, and he stops on his side, facing Nikaido, and draws his fingertips over Nikaido’s forearm in random patterns.
Nikaido’s still thinking, even though he knows he should stop and that it will only make him, make all of them crazy. He turns his head to examine Senga with narrow eyes. “You really aren’t worried?”
Senga shrugs a careless shoulder, smooth and tan from the sun. “We’re in Hawaii, aren’t we?”
Before Nikaido can say that he’s not sure what, if anything, that proves, Senga rolls back towards him, apparently cooled off enough that he has no problem snuggling back up to Nikaido and using him for his personal body pillow.
“Don’t worry so much,” Senga repeats, punctuating his statement with a nose-scrunching yawn. “You get a birthday on stage, remember?”
“Idiot,” Nikaido grumbles, but his eyes are getting heavy, and he gives in and lets them close, thinking instead about fangirls and uchiwas.
He hopes, at least, that his cake is bigger than Fujigaya’s.