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scriveynerTitle: Birthday Night
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: M
Length: 2112
Summary: Gotou stood outside the restaurant and watched the early autumn rain drip from the awning.
Gotou stood outside the restaurant and watched the early autumn rain drip from the awning. It was unseasonably chilly – his breath formed into small clouds of steam before he’d lit his cigarette – and the bright neon of the establishment reflected on the patches of pavement left empty by the sparse smattering of pedestrians.
He’d left the noise and the carousing behind him, excusing himself quietly from the warmth and the celebration. They’d crammed far too many people into one of the small private rooms, squeezed around a table to celebrate Masayoshi’s birthday; his fellow ex-Flamengers, Red Axe; the Flamenco Girls and a few more besides had come and gone throughout the night. It was loud and boisterous inside and the thought of Masayoshi’s exuberance surrounded by all his friends made Gotou smile fondly as he exhaled smoke into the darkness.
“Gotou-sorry, Hazama-kun?” The person who ducked out the open door of the restaurant was not who Gotou expected to come after him. It was Kuroki Anji, one of Masayoshi’s teammates. Gotou nodded his head but didn’t take his cigarette out of his mouth. “Sorry, I’m not used to that.”
“It’s been more than a year, and I’m not used to it either,” Gotou said. He held out his pack of cigarettes and Kuroki shook his head, so Gotou shuffled them back into his pocket. “How’s it going in there?”
“Loud.” Kuroki glanced out into the rain. “Kaname has ordered tequila by the bottle, and it has gotten louder.”
Gotou sighed and hung his head a moment before he stubbed out his cigarette. Masayoshi was an adult and all, but he barely had a handle on drinking beer, never mind tequila. And since Gotou was going to be the one peeling him off of the bathroom floor in the morning as it was he was going to nip this in the bud right away. “Thanks for the heads-up,” Gotou said, and Kuroki nodded his head, staying outside as Gotou slipped back into the building.
When Gotou slid aside the door into the private room, Kaname thrust an open tequila bottle into the air and somewhat in Gotou’s direction. “Saburo-kun!” he said, gesturing broadly and only missing Souichi’s head by scant millimeters. “Come join us!”
Masayoshi was seated opposite the old man, with his back to the room’s entrance. He leaned back and grinned at Gotou, face flushed with intoxication but his expression open and joyful. “Gooooo,” Masayoshi said as Gotou dropped into a seated position on the cushion next to him. “'toooooousan.”
Gotou watched silently as Masayoshi kept leaning backwards until he tipped perilously over and lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling with that same goofy grin on his face. He leaned over Masayoshi and waited until Masayoshi actually focused on him. “I’m cutting you off, ‘yoshi.”
“Noooooooo,” Masayoshi protested, attempting to flail himself back upright. “Who’ll finish my drinks if I, if I-” Completing a thought and trying to get upright turned out to be two things he couldn’t do at the same time so Masayoshi remained on the tatami floor, but crossed his arms over his chest and furrowed his brow. “'No fair, wanna finish my drinks, don’ wan’ Fumeeeennnn…”
Gotou glanced over the table at Mari, who had half a dozen empty shot glasses overturned in front of her, elbow on the table and leer on her face. Masayoshi was still trying to get out 'Flamenco Diamond’ but mostly failing. “Do I even dare ask how many shots he’s had in the ten minutes I’ve been gone?”
“Seben!” came from the floor behind him.
“One,” Mari said, still leering.
“Gotou-shan, I have seben fingers,” Masayoshi said worriedly, and Gotou took one of the several shot glasses that were sitting filled with liquid from in front of where Masayoshi was sitting and knocked it back.
#
“You,” Masayoshi said, “are very drunk, Gotonori.”
Gotou dropped his keys for the third time and stared at them. This time they’d landed mostly on his shoe, and he was very strongly considering trying to lift them with his foot. He rested his forehead against the door, and then turned his face just slightly so he could glare at Masayoshi, who was leaning into the doorframe and giggling.
“What,” he said, concentrating very hard so his syllables came out in the correct order. “The fuck. Did you just call me?”
“You,” Masayoshi said. “Are drunk!”
“No shit,” Gotou said, and conceded to crouching to fetch his keys and swaying only a little as he straightened himself. After finally jamming the key into the lock the correct way (“Masayoshi, stop giggling-” “But it’s SO FUNNY!”) they managed to stagger safely inside.
Somehow Masayoshi got his shoes off without pitching face first into the floor. How, Gotou wasn’t entirely certain because he was having far more difficulty with his own than he thought he should have, especially since he hadn’t had that much to drink. Maybe. He thought.
He finally managed to get his other shoe off, wobbled a second – and then Masayoshi’s hand was on his shirt, yanking him up out of the genkan and there was a split second of wide-eyed oh shit as Gotou fell into him and they both slammed back against the wall.
“Oh,” Masayoshi said, winded and flushed bright pink as Gotou pushed himself up on his arms and out of the awkward position. “Good thing there’s a wall here.”
“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” Gotou wheezed.
“It’s still my birthday,” Masayoshi said. “You have to be nice to me.”
Gotou narrowed his eyes and shifted his weight, his palms on the wall on either side of Masayoshi’s head. Masayoshi had slid down slightly, making Gotou loom over him – in the dim light his eyes glittered slightly. “Do I now?” Gotou murmured, hazy and too-warm. “I’m always nice to you.”
Masayoshi put his hand on Gotou’s chest, fingers curling into his shirt. He inhaled a little and giggled softly. “You hafta be extra-super-nice,” he said, staring at his hand. Gotou’s fingers caught under his chin and made him tilt his head up, and he closed his eyes and made a happy contented noise when Gotou’s mouth covered his.
This, at least, was something safe – kissing Masayoshi was almost as intoxicating as the liquor; the heat of his mouth, the way his hands pulled at the front of Gotou’s shirt, the small encouraging noises Masayoshi made when he surged up against Gotou. He could barely remember the warning that buzzed around his skull, buried by warm food and liquor, and Gotou dragged Masayoshi up so he wasn’t slouched uncomfortably against the wall, sliding his hands up under Masayoshi’s shirt, kissing him still the entire time.
“Gotou-san, Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said suddenly, hands finding Gotou’s face, forcing him off.
Gotou, undeterred, slid his attention from Masayoshi’s mouth, down his jaw. “Pick a name and stick with it,” he said, nipping at Masayoshi’s neck, hands creeping further up under Masayoshi’s shirt.
“Hi-de-no-ri,” Masayoshi said and giggled, then grew serious. “Oh! I remembered.” He shifted obediently as Gotou shucked Masayoshi’s hoodie off and tossed it to the floor.
“Remembered what?” Gotou said, distracted, and Masayoshi draped his arms over Gotou’s shoulders.
“You,” Masayoshi said in a sing-song voice. “Said we shouldn’t have sex when we got home because we’d be drunk and it would end badly again.”
“I’m not drunk,” Gotou said defensively.
“Yes you are,” Masayoshi said, and threaded his hand into Gotou’s hair. He giggled again and leaned his head in close to Gotou’s. “’s okay, I’m drunk too.” Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by Gotou’s kissing him again, and when they broke apart Masayoshi tugged on the hood of Gotou’s sweatshirt. “You said-”
Gotou ducked under Masayoshi’s arms and with a bit of quick maneuvering slung him up over Gotou’s shoulder. Masayoshi wasn’t light by any means, but he’d managed this before, and Gotou only wobbled a moment and barely managed to not bang Masayoshi’s head off the wall. “Go-go-Hidenori~” Masayoshi screeched, wiggling and struggling like a cat. “Put me DOWN!”
How they made it to the bed even Gotou wasn’t certain, but Masayoshi sprawled, flustered and red-faced, half naked already made him lose what little was left of his composure. Gotou crawled onto the bed atop him and Masayoshi put his arms over his shoulders as Gotou kissed him again. “Gotou-san is mine, right?”
“Of course I’m yours,” Gotou said, running his fingers over Masayoshi’s nipple, pinching just slightly and smirking when that elicited a gasp from Masayoshi. “Do you think I wear this ring just because I like how it looks?”
“I wanna ride you,” Masayoshi’s eyes were, for a moment, clear – and Gotou pushed up on his knees, before pulling his sweatshirt off over his head and tossing it.
“That can definitely be arranged,” he said, and Masayoshi surged up off the bed to kiss him again.
#
The noise Masayoshi made when Gotou kicked the mattress barely registered as human. “C'mon,” Gotou said, the coffee he’d been working on sitting sour in his belly.
“Kill me,” came, defeated, from somewhere underneath the mound of blankets.
“Okay, for one,” Gotou said, “the media would eat that up with a spoon, Samurai Flamenco felled by common hangover-”
“Don’t make fun.” Several tufts of hay-colored hair materialized from one end of the blanket cocoon Masayoshi had rolled himself into when Gotou had hauled out of bed for his morning shower. There had to be a head attached somewhere, and Gotou sipped from his mug, waiting on eyes to appear.
“And two,” he said, when it didn’t seem like Masayoshi was going to emerge any further. “I get to say 'I told you so.’ Shouldn’t’ve invited Kaname, this always happens.” Gotou took another sip from his mug, then took pity on the mound and put the bottle of water up against the top of Masayoshi’s head. “At least you’re not throwing up this time.”
Eyes and a hand appeared, to take the bottle of water from Gotou’s hand. “Everything hurts,” he said, and slowly sat up, pressing the cooled bottle of water against his forehead. He squinted at Gotou, who was already up and dressed and ready to be a productive member of society.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Gotou warned him idly. “I’ve had my ass kicked by too many hangovers to feel sympathy.”
“It’s not that.” Masayoshi shifted uncomfortably. “You didn’t use a condom.”
“You’re the one who climbed on me and complained I was going too slow,” Gotou said, setting his coffee down. “C'mon, I drew a bath for you, that’ll help.”
Masayoshi beamed at him. “You’re the best husband ever!” He held up his arms. “Carry me to the bathroom?”
“You are spoiled rotten,” Gotou said, but he was smiling.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: M
Length: 2112
Summary: Gotou stood outside the restaurant and watched the early autumn rain drip from the awning.
Gotou stood outside the restaurant and watched the early autumn rain drip from the awning. It was unseasonably chilly – his breath formed into small clouds of steam before he’d lit his cigarette – and the bright neon of the establishment reflected on the patches of pavement left empty by the sparse smattering of pedestrians.
He’d left the noise and the carousing behind him, excusing himself quietly from the warmth and the celebration. They’d crammed far too many people into one of the small private rooms, squeezed around a table to celebrate Masayoshi’s birthday; his fellow ex-Flamengers, Red Axe; the Flamenco Girls and a few more besides had come and gone throughout the night. It was loud and boisterous inside and the thought of Masayoshi’s exuberance surrounded by all his friends made Gotou smile fondly as he exhaled smoke into the darkness.
“Gotou-sorry, Hazama-kun?” The person who ducked out the open door of the restaurant was not who Gotou expected to come after him. It was Kuroki Anji, one of Masayoshi’s teammates. Gotou nodded his head but didn’t take his cigarette out of his mouth. “Sorry, I’m not used to that.”
“It’s been more than a year, and I’m not used to it either,” Gotou said. He held out his pack of cigarettes and Kuroki shook his head, so Gotou shuffled them back into his pocket. “How’s it going in there?”
“Loud.” Kuroki glanced out into the rain. “Kaname has ordered tequila by the bottle, and it has gotten louder.”
Gotou sighed and hung his head a moment before he stubbed out his cigarette. Masayoshi was an adult and all, but he barely had a handle on drinking beer, never mind tequila. And since Gotou was going to be the one peeling him off of the bathroom floor in the morning as it was he was going to nip this in the bud right away. “Thanks for the heads-up,” Gotou said, and Kuroki nodded his head, staying outside as Gotou slipped back into the building.
When Gotou slid aside the door into the private room, Kaname thrust an open tequila bottle into the air and somewhat in Gotou’s direction. “Saburo-kun!” he said, gesturing broadly and only missing Souichi’s head by scant millimeters. “Come join us!”
Masayoshi was seated opposite the old man, with his back to the room’s entrance. He leaned back and grinned at Gotou, face flushed with intoxication but his expression open and joyful. “Gooooo,” Masayoshi said as Gotou dropped into a seated position on the cushion next to him. “'toooooousan.”
Gotou watched silently as Masayoshi kept leaning backwards until he tipped perilously over and lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling with that same goofy grin on his face. He leaned over Masayoshi and waited until Masayoshi actually focused on him. “I’m cutting you off, ‘yoshi.”
“Noooooooo,” Masayoshi protested, attempting to flail himself back upright. “Who’ll finish my drinks if I, if I-” Completing a thought and trying to get upright turned out to be two things he couldn’t do at the same time so Masayoshi remained on the tatami floor, but crossed his arms over his chest and furrowed his brow. “'No fair, wanna finish my drinks, don’ wan’ Fumeeeennnn…”
Gotou glanced over the table at Mari, who had half a dozen empty shot glasses overturned in front of her, elbow on the table and leer on her face. Masayoshi was still trying to get out 'Flamenco Diamond’ but mostly failing. “Do I even dare ask how many shots he’s had in the ten minutes I’ve been gone?”
“Seben!” came from the floor behind him.
“One,” Mari said, still leering.
“Gotou-shan, I have seben fingers,” Masayoshi said worriedly, and Gotou took one of the several shot glasses that were sitting filled with liquid from in front of where Masayoshi was sitting and knocked it back.
“You,” Masayoshi said, “are very drunk, Gotonori.”
Gotou dropped his keys for the third time and stared at them. This time they’d landed mostly on his shoe, and he was very strongly considering trying to lift them with his foot. He rested his forehead against the door, and then turned his face just slightly so he could glare at Masayoshi, who was leaning into the doorframe and giggling.
“What,” he said, concentrating very hard so his syllables came out in the correct order. “The fuck. Did you just call me?”
“You,” Masayoshi said. “Are drunk!”
“No shit,” Gotou said, and conceded to crouching to fetch his keys and swaying only a little as he straightened himself. After finally jamming the key into the lock the correct way (“Masayoshi, stop giggling-” “But it’s SO FUNNY!”) they managed to stagger safely inside.
Somehow Masayoshi got his shoes off without pitching face first into the floor. How, Gotou wasn’t entirely certain because he was having far more difficulty with his own than he thought he should have, especially since he hadn’t had that much to drink. Maybe. He thought.
He finally managed to get his other shoe off, wobbled a second – and then Masayoshi’s hand was on his shirt, yanking him up out of the genkan and there was a split second of wide-eyed oh shit as Gotou fell into him and they both slammed back against the wall.
“Oh,” Masayoshi said, winded and flushed bright pink as Gotou pushed himself up on his arms and out of the awkward position. “Good thing there’s a wall here.”
“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” Gotou wheezed.
“It’s still my birthday,” Masayoshi said. “You have to be nice to me.”
Gotou narrowed his eyes and shifted his weight, his palms on the wall on either side of Masayoshi’s head. Masayoshi had slid down slightly, making Gotou loom over him – in the dim light his eyes glittered slightly. “Do I now?” Gotou murmured, hazy and too-warm. “I’m always nice to you.”
Masayoshi put his hand on Gotou’s chest, fingers curling into his shirt. He inhaled a little and giggled softly. “You hafta be extra-super-nice,” he said, staring at his hand. Gotou’s fingers caught under his chin and made him tilt his head up, and he closed his eyes and made a happy contented noise when Gotou’s mouth covered his.
This, at least, was something safe – kissing Masayoshi was almost as intoxicating as the liquor; the heat of his mouth, the way his hands pulled at the front of Gotou’s shirt, the small encouraging noises Masayoshi made when he surged up against Gotou. He could barely remember the warning that buzzed around his skull, buried by warm food and liquor, and Gotou dragged Masayoshi up so he wasn’t slouched uncomfortably against the wall, sliding his hands up under Masayoshi’s shirt, kissing him still the entire time.
“Gotou-san, Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said suddenly, hands finding Gotou’s face, forcing him off.
Gotou, undeterred, slid his attention from Masayoshi’s mouth, down his jaw. “Pick a name and stick with it,” he said, nipping at Masayoshi’s neck, hands creeping further up under Masayoshi’s shirt.
“Hi-de-no-ri,” Masayoshi said and giggled, then grew serious. “Oh! I remembered.” He shifted obediently as Gotou shucked Masayoshi’s hoodie off and tossed it to the floor.
“Remembered what?” Gotou said, distracted, and Masayoshi draped his arms over Gotou’s shoulders.
“You,” Masayoshi said in a sing-song voice. “Said we shouldn’t have sex when we got home because we’d be drunk and it would end badly again.”
“I’m not drunk,” Gotou said defensively.
“Yes you are,” Masayoshi said, and threaded his hand into Gotou’s hair. He giggled again and leaned his head in close to Gotou’s. “’s okay, I’m drunk too.” Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by Gotou’s kissing him again, and when they broke apart Masayoshi tugged on the hood of Gotou’s sweatshirt. “You said-”
Gotou ducked under Masayoshi’s arms and with a bit of quick maneuvering slung him up over Gotou’s shoulder. Masayoshi wasn’t light by any means, but he’d managed this before, and Gotou only wobbled a moment and barely managed to not bang Masayoshi’s head off the wall. “Go-go-Hidenori~” Masayoshi screeched, wiggling and struggling like a cat. “Put me DOWN!”
How they made it to the bed even Gotou wasn’t certain, but Masayoshi sprawled, flustered and red-faced, half naked already made him lose what little was left of his composure. Gotou crawled onto the bed atop him and Masayoshi put his arms over his shoulders as Gotou kissed him again. “Gotou-san is mine, right?”
“Of course I’m yours,” Gotou said, running his fingers over Masayoshi’s nipple, pinching just slightly and smirking when that elicited a gasp from Masayoshi. “Do you think I wear this ring just because I like how it looks?”
“I wanna ride you,” Masayoshi’s eyes were, for a moment, clear – and Gotou pushed up on his knees, before pulling his sweatshirt off over his head and tossing it.
“That can definitely be arranged,” he said, and Masayoshi surged up off the bed to kiss him again.
The noise Masayoshi made when Gotou kicked the mattress barely registered as human. “C'mon,” Gotou said, the coffee he’d been working on sitting sour in his belly.
“Kill me,” came, defeated, from somewhere underneath the mound of blankets.
“Okay, for one,” Gotou said, “the media would eat that up with a spoon, Samurai Flamenco felled by common hangover-”
“Don’t make fun.” Several tufts of hay-colored hair materialized from one end of the blanket cocoon Masayoshi had rolled himself into when Gotou had hauled out of bed for his morning shower. There had to be a head attached somewhere, and Gotou sipped from his mug, waiting on eyes to appear.
“And two,” he said, when it didn’t seem like Masayoshi was going to emerge any further. “I get to say 'I told you so.’ Shouldn’t’ve invited Kaname, this always happens.” Gotou took another sip from his mug, then took pity on the mound and put the bottle of water up against the top of Masayoshi’s head. “At least you’re not throwing up this time.”
Eyes and a hand appeared, to take the bottle of water from Gotou’s hand. “Everything hurts,” he said, and slowly sat up, pressing the cooled bottle of water against his forehead. He squinted at Gotou, who was already up and dressed and ready to be a productive member of society.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Gotou warned him idly. “I’ve had my ass kicked by too many hangovers to feel sympathy.”
“It’s not that.” Masayoshi shifted uncomfortably. “You didn’t use a condom.”
“You’re the one who climbed on me and complained I was going too slow,” Gotou said, setting his coffee down. “C'mon, I drew a bath for you, that’ll help.”
Masayoshi beamed at him. “You’re the best husband ever!” He held up his arms. “Carry me to the bathroom?”
“You are spoiled rotten,” Gotou said, but he was smiling.
