Rating/Warnings: PG-13 mostly for Tamamori. Well, and Nikaido. Okay, all of Kisumai. And A.B.C.
Summary: Kitayama just wants some peace and quiet so he can get his paper done.
AN: Ages ago, there was some interview where Kitayama discussed Tackey letting him borrow his laptop to do university work while they were rehearsing for something or other. So I had notes for this floating around on a sticky note and finally decided to just write it.
5 Places Kitayama Couldn't Write His Paper
Kitayama cracked his knuckles, ready to get down to business. He was sitting at his study desk, computer humming in front of him, notes to the left of him and textbooks to the right of him. He was ready to go; he was ready to get this paper done.
He’d just put his fingers down on the keyboard when his cell began ringing, the polyphonic strains of “Let Me” making him roll his eyes as he tugged the phone out of his pocket.
“What do you want?” he demanded of the phone without any preamble. “And what did I tell you about screwing around with my ring tones?”
“Mean,” Fujigaya’s pout was loud and clear over the phone. “I bet you aren’t even doing anything.”
“For your information,” Kitayama said crisply, “I’m working on a paper right now, and I have to get back to work, so is there something you want?”
“Mah, if it’s school it can’t be helped,” Fujigaya sighed. “I’ll go then. Don’t forget we have early practice tomorrow.”
“I won’t, I won’t,” Kitayama brushed Fujigaya off. “See you then.”
Kitayama closed his phone and sat it beside his notes, getting himself ready to go again. Putting his hands back on his keyboard he typed his name, the date, and marked a spot for the title.
He was just getting to setting up his header and page numbers when the phone rang again. He paused with his fingers still over the keys for a second, then sighed and answered it.
“Kitayama,” he grunted into the phone.
“Yo, Hiro,” Wataru said. “How’s the paper coming?”
“Terrific,” Kitayama said, moving his page numbers from the top left to the top right with a click of his mouse. “Something you want?”
“I just wanted to make sure you remembered we have early practice tomorrow.”
“Taisuke just called to remind me,” Kitayama said, letting his voice show exactly what he thought about that. “So if you don’t mind…”
“Right, right, I’ll let you get back to work,” Wataru said easily. “Work hard, ne?”
“Got it,” Kitayama responded on autopilot, then closed his phone and set it aside a second time.
He’d written two whole sentences when the phone rang yet again, and Kitayama grabbed with a snarl, fully ready to yell at whoever was on the other end, especially when he saw Senga’s name on the screen. Shouldn’t that brat be in bed?
“Hiromii!” Senga wailed before Kitayama could get a single word out, voice full of relief. “Thank goodness! Listen, I’m really really lost and I think I just saw some Yakuza! You’ll help me, right?”
Sighing, Kitayama rubbed at his forehead with one hand while he shifted the phone into a more comfortable position against his ear with the other. “Tell me what happened.”
It took a half hour to get Senga turned around and back to civilization, even with Kitayama suppressing all the really good questions like “How did you get to Machida in the first place?” and “Are you a complete moron?”
“There’s the station!” Senga finally exclaimed. “I’m saved! Hiromii’s the best!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kitayama said, poking at his space bar listlessly. “You’re sure you know how to get home from there?”
“I’ll be fine!” Senga insisted, far too cheerfully, but Kitayama just let him go. The little moron would only ever learn if they let him make all the mistakes he wanted.
“Fine, I’m going then,” Kitayama signed off. “And don’t forget we have early practice tomorrow.”
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” Senga laughed, and then said goodbye as well.
Kitayama looked from the computer to his clock to his bed several times, then gave a defeated sigh. He saved his ‘progress’ to his flash drive and powered down his computer before crawling into his bed. He’d just get up and work on it early tomorrow morning, he reasoned.
Which was why he was supremely displeased when his mother shook him awake and informed him that if he didn’t get his butt moving right that second he was going to miss the train. Kitayama barely remembered to grab his flash drive and his phone off his desk before he dashed out the door.
“You can use my laptop, if you want,” Takizawa said when Kitayama mentioned his paper-writing woes in passing during practice.
“Really?” Kitayama asked, ignoring the affronted noise Fujigya made behind him.
“Sure. University’s tough when you’re working too, right?” Takizawa slapped Kitayama on the shoulder. “Maybe you can get some work done during breaks or lunch.”
“Thank you very much, Takizawa-kun.” Kitayama bowed gratefully.
“It’s Tackey, Tackey!” Takizawa laughed, tugging Kitayama until he was upright again. “And it’s no problem at all.”
Of course even with Takizawa’s laptop, finding a spot to work was its own problem. Even though he hadn’t had high hopes for peace and quiet, Kis-My-Ft2’s dressing room was even worse than usual today, it seemed.
“Hey, watch it!” Kitayama snapped as Senga and Nikaido’s wrestling nearly came crashing right into him. He’d only saved himself by yanking his feet up onto the couch at the last second. “I’m trying to work!”
“Why?” Nikaido snorted, giving Kitayama an insolent look despite the fact that he was on the bottom and thus was looking at Kitayama upside down. “School’s for losers, Kitamitsu.”
“Says the dropout,” Kitayama snorted back. “Anyway, this is Takizawa’s laptop, so if anything happens to it…”
“Ooh, it’s Tackey’s?” Senga asked with interest, scrambling off Nikaido so quickly that Nikaido yelped when he got an elbow to the stomach and a knee in the side. He flopped onto the couch next to Kitayama and scrunched close to see. “What kind is it? Anything good on it?”
“We are not snooping through Takizawa’s computer!” Kitayama tried to shoulder Senga back with little success. “Anyway, I’m trying to work, so go away.”
“I bet he’s got porn on there,” Nikaido said, climbing up to sit on Kitayama’s other side and leaning in as well. “Maybe even porn of him and Tsubasa.”
“Eh?!” Senga made a shocked face, then reached for the touchpad. “Let’s see, let’s see!”
“Stop that!” Kitayama slapped Senga’s hand away and closed the laptop. “I’m sure he’s got better sense than to lend me a laptop with homemade porn on it! And you,” Kitayama swung his glare over to Nikaido, “haven’t you already got in enough trouble for saying stuff like that?”
“Only cause it’s true,” Nikaido said sulkily. Kitayama rolled his eyes and stood up, making Senga and Nikaido collapse into each other in the middle.
“I’m going to go get some work done, so don’t even think about following me!” he announced, then turned his back on Senga’s pout and Nikaido’s glare and strode out of the room.
Nobody was ever in A.B.C.’s dressing room anyhow, Kitayama reasoned, making it the perfect place to work. And indeed, when he stuck his head into the room, it seemed deserted. Coming inside and closing the door firmly behind him, Kitayama went over to the tiny, battered couch that inhabited the room.
When he sat on it, it creaked dangerously, and Kitayama tried hard not to think about what acrobatic skills A.B.C. might have been practicing on it lately as he opened the laptop and tried to get back to work yet again.
He’d actually almost managed to finish his introduction before he heard the noise. He paused, tilting his head, but didn’t hear anything else and figured he’d imagined it. But a few seconds later, he heard it again, a sort of rustling. Glancing around, he thought the sound seemed to be coming from behind the couch.
“If we’ve got mice because those damned kouhai can’t pick up their trash,” Kitayama grumbled to himself, setting the laptop aside so that he could sit up to look over the back of the couch, “I’m going to…AUGH!”
Now knowing exactly what kind of acrobatics A.B.C., or at least Tottsu and Goseki, were practicing in here, just behind the couch rather than on it, Kitayama grabbed the laptop and left the room as quickly as he could, trying to scrub the image from his brain.
Tamamori’s involvement had been sort of a surprise though. Although less of one than when he yanked open the door and found Miyata in the midst of reaching for the handle.
“Just let me stay in here, okay?” Kitayama tried to keep his voice even despite the mounting irritation he felt. “You can go on practicing and I might actually get something done.”
“What do I get out of it?” Fujigaya wanted to know, gaze drifting lazily from Kitayama’s face down to the laptop in his hands. Although his expression was casual, Kitayama had long ago learned to recognize the glint of negotiation in Fujigaya’s eyes.
“Anything you want that doesn’t include Takizawa’s laptop, if,” Kitayama said, holding up a finger, “I get a half-hour of peace and quiet so I can get something done.”
“It’s fine,” Fujigaya agreed after a moment’s thought, then gave Kitayama a wink before turning back to the mirrored wall to go on with his practice.
“Finally,” Kitayama grumbled to himself, then settled in one of the corners of the small room.
Convinced the next distraction would crop up at any moment, Kitayama typed as fast as he could, using the mantra that editing was for the weak. So by the time he realized that Fujigaya was looming over him, he actually was a little more than halfway through. He typed a few more sentences anyway though, trying to prolong the inevitable.
“Hey,” Fujigaya grinned when Kitayama finally looked up, “it’s been thirty-two minutes already.”
“Fine.” Kitayama saved, closed the laptop, and set it to the side out of harm’s way. “But remember we both have to dance this afternoon.”
“Don’t worry,” Fujigaya sing-songed, and Kitayama grunted when Fujigaya landed heavily in his lap. “It’ll be gentle, Mitsupi.”
He’d better get an A for this paper, Kitayama thought grumpily, then cursed as he banged his elbow on the side of the narrow bathroom stall. Because the higher his education went, the lower he seemed to sink. By now he was starting to fear that if he went to graduate school he’d have to do interpretive dance strip teases to get two minutes of peace.
He’d sunk so low he couldn’t even get mad really when there was a knock on the door of the stall. He just reached over to unlock the door and it swung open to reveal Yokoo, arms crossed.
“What now?” Kitayama asked, resigned.
“Come out of there,” Yokoo ordered. “This is a bit dramatic even for you.”
“I’m not being dramatic!” Kitayama insisted. “I tried to work at home but you all kept calling me, and I tried in our dressing room but the kouhai wanted me to search the laptop for porn, and then I tried A.B.C.’s dressing room, and I won’t even tell you what I saw in there…”
“Ah, I’d been wondering where Tamamori got to,” Yokoo put in.
“And then I was reduced to trading my body for half-hour units of time!” Kitayama finished. “So now I’m in the bathroom! And I’ll thank you kindly for letting me finish so I don’t get kicked out of school after all of this!”
“Out,” Yokoo ordered again, and when Kitayama refused to budge, added, “Do you really think Takizawa would want you using his laptop in here?”
Grudgingly, Kitayama got up and followed Yokoo out of the bathroom.
And One Where He Could
“But Wataruuuu,” Senga whined, but Yokoo ignored his pout and continued pushing him and Nikaido from Kis-My-Ft2’s dressing room.
“Come on, Taisuke, you too.” Yokoo said, beckoning. “Leader needs to work.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, fatso,” Fujigaya commented, but he ruffled Kitayama’s hair as he passed, in a sort of way that seemed to indicate affection and well-wishes. Or maybe just sexual satisfaction, Kitayama couldn’t be bothered to distinguish between the two where Fujigaya was involved.
As soon as everyone was gone, Kitayama heaved a sigh of relief, finally able to hear himself think. He opened Takizawa’s laptop and went back to work, feeling much better now that the end was in sight.
Of course, after a little while, he also started to feel a bit lonely in the silence of their usually boisterous dressing room, not that he would have ever admitted it to any of the others. Enough, though, that when the door opened to reveal a rather harried-looking Tamamori, Kitayama was kind of glad.
“Oh, sorry,” Tamamori said. “Are you working? I’ll go.”
“No, it’s okay,” Kitayama said. “I’m almost done, you can come in if you want.”
“Thanks.” Tamamori trudged across the room and flopped down on the couch, blinking tiredly. Kitayama looked him up and down once, and then tugged Tamamori down so that he was lying across his half of the couch, his long legs thrown over the arm and his head propped up against the outside of Kitayama’s thigh.
Tamamori was already snoring softly when Kitayama gave the save hot keys a victorious jab, and then he closed the laptop and leaned back for a little nap of his own, feeling like maybe it had all turned out okay in the end.
A little while later when he heard the door creak open and Fujigaya say, “Pfft, that just figures,” Kitayama didn’t even bother to open his eyes to smirk.