title: Commercials
genre: romance/humor
rating: PG-13 (... or higher, I think, for the weak at heart ... joke)
pairings: yaoi overload
warning: no-plot, not edited
notes: SD: Inoue-sama's. Deal with it. All I can say? (shrug) I watch too much TV (I wonder who can distinguish these ads ...). The ads are not mine, okay? (Duh!) Yeah, and I dedicate this to ... SD fans, Muse-san, and a handful of OCs I have (esp. Kenken). R&R, minna, onegai!
Hehehehe ... try listening to "Kimi ga Suki datto" and "Sekai ga Owaru Made wa" while reading ...
Part I
Your normal, busy, everyday afternoon full of bustles. At a very crowded street, there were two guys, walking together, hand in hand, both glancing at each other every now and then. What drew eyes on them were their height, first of all. One of them was displaying a very disturbing smile, coupled with a gravity-defying hairdo. He was also carrying a tackle box. The reserved one had ice-cold blue fox eyes, slightly shorter than the former, and was glaring at everybody. They kept walking in silence, barely looking at where they were going.
They reached a bend. About to follow, the smiling guy got jerked back, not a single strand misplaced in his gravity-defying hairdo. The foxy-eyed continued walking uninterestedly. He saw the former moments later; he smirked and disappeared among the crowd, a tall tanned redhead in tow. They were holding hands, their fingers intertwined.
Smile still intact, the smiling guy shook his head dejectedly, staring longingly at the couple, azure eyes on the easily distinguishable tinge of red hair.
Rubbing his neck, he sighed, then turned, with an apologetic grin, to face the one who tugged him, whose sapphire glare almost doused his genki spirit.
"Gomen ne, Hiro-kun ..."
With a huff, his blue-eyed koibito walked out on him, not wanting to hear his explanations.
"Matte, Hiro-kun! Gomen!"
He had to run to catch up with his enraged kareshi.
"Hiro-kun, hear me out first!"
"Yeah, and you're not ogling Sakuragi Hanamichi back there!" he hollered. "Oh, shut up, Akira, leave me alone!"
"Hiro-kun! Chotto matte ... Hiro-kun, gomen ...!"
"Ne, kitsune, what's that about?" a redhead asked his raven-haired companion after suddenly being dragged off and hurriedly ushered inside a cafe.
"Nandemonai, do'ahou." They ordered briskly; the redhead kept popping the same question up in intervals of four seconds. Finally, he relented.
"Sono hentai ahou."
The redhead frowned. "Smiley? Doush'ta na? Is he making moves on you?" He took a gulp of his steaming café au lait, not caring about its temperature, hissing under his breath. "Damn that smiley ..."
"Do'ahou." He sighed. It's the other way around, baka.
"The tensai will pretend that he did not hear that." He paused, then raised an eyebrow. "So, where are we going now? I thought we're celebrating; it's our 4th monthsary, after all." He gave him a knowing look. "Not the movie house ..."
Hn. Do'ahou. "Hm? Fine. My house." He shrugged; there was an unmistakable glint in his fox eyes.
"Naze?" the redhead was suspicious. "Shit!" he gasped suddenly, as the raven-haired across him began languid strokes on his thighs with his leg, under the table, of course.
"Because, do'ahou," he explained, not stopping on his ministrations, a smile hovering on his lips. "I've got ice cream. And there's a swimming pool in my house." He released the redhead and stood up.
Panting as he stood up, he blushed a deep crimson as he caught on the implications of the statements.
"Don't even dare ...! It may be our monthsary ...!"
"Yare yare." He sighed, then stole a quick breath-taking kiss. "Iku yo."
Part II
At a diner that beautiful summer weekend, a very cute, tanned, though old-looking guy was eating, minding his own business. His brown hair was falling on his eyes repetitively as he bent down to answer his schoolwork, making him sigh. He noticed this attractive guy with wild pitch-black hair kept shooting him glances, and was currently chuckling good-naturedly at his expression whenever he had to fix his hair.
Accepting his ill luck, as he can't even understand his homework, he took a sip of water, and chanced on seeing the other still gazing openly at him with a curious smile. He smiled and nodded at him in return. The other only smiled wider.
Suddenly, the wild-haired guy was sopping wet with gobs of fettuccini ala carbonara down his front, staining his clothing, and painfully hot on his crotch. Guilty, his eyes pleaded silently to his sempai/lover, who stood up abruptly to leave.
"Enjoy your lunch alone, Kiyota," he said coolly, shrugging on his Kainan jacket, which he usually wears to basketball practices. "Or why don't you join with Maki-sempai? Since you're so intent on staring and smiling at him as if I'm not with you." With that and not so much of a backward glance, he turned his heel and left.
"Chikushou ..." He stood up, throwing bills to the table for his ruined lunch with his koi, who had left him. "Soichiro-kun, let me explain ... Matte yo ..."
He woke up with a start. The dream came back to him painfully real as he tried to still his galloping heartbeat. He pushed his wild black hair with one hand.
A few minutes later, he noticed the stained clothing he wore to lunch early that day. It was splattered with carbonara sauce.
"Nooo ..." he wailed.
Part III
The summer breeze wafts in a fresh scent of flora; the night was warm without being unbearably hot. A turret dungeon was strung with tension, as three captives were chained hand and foot to the wall, waiting in hysteric anxiety.
It was the bespectacled Prince's 18th birthday, and upon his wish he could choose any, if not all, of the three prisoners to be subjected to a public execution by garrote.
Without warning, an entourage of royal subjects entered the dungeon. Among their midst was the brown haired prince, looking at each of them in a somber manner, as if their bondage were a gruesome sight to behold.
The three were disheartened to note that the prince, who was attired in tight black leather clothing, was holding a coiled whip.
Were they all to be lashed before the execution? It seemed to be the case.
The Prince scrutinized them carefully, one by one. He stopped by one, scarred, the least remarkable, with chin-length hair and piercing blue eyes, and used the handle of the whip to lift his chin and gaze at the weary face. At once, he was released from his bonds, but he was too weak to move.
They, the prince and the prisoner, went into an adjacent room alone, in spite of incessant protests. A few minutes of silence ensued. Befuddled by this, the chosen prisoner, pushing his luck, spoke to the prince, voice harsher than he meant it to be.
"What do you want of me?"
Though expected, the sudden sound of the whip made him wince; the sting made him grimace in pain. He was most surprised when he felt a pair of moist lips grazing the abused area, tongue darting out to lap at the blood from a freshly incised wound, blurring pain and pleasure.
"I'm not going to die, am I?"
A sad smile. "No. You're not."
"Then why ... why ... are you ... doing this?" he slurred like a drunkard, trying to clear his mind of the haze the caresses had inflicted.
"Because I can." A pause. "Because I want to."
He stood in front of him, brown eyes gentle behind the glasses.
"Because I care."
Part IV
Extremely aggrieved and bored to death, the eighteen year-old young man waited impatiently for the bus. It was past 9:30 in the morning, and basketball practice at their school was to commence in exactly thirty minutes.
Cursing his ill luck that he didn't think of driving to school or something equally more convenient and efficient than riding the bus, he pointedly ignored the common sight of gaggles of annoying females who kept on staring and drooling over him.
A blur of green went past. Staring at his watch, he muttered to himself silently until something made him stop.
That something happened to be the impolite palming of his behind. Or to be more direct, someone slapped and pinched his ass in a manner akin to appreciation. And the only one that could do that was the tall guy standing next to him, waiting for the bus.
A shiver ran through his spine as long lean agile fingers kneaded his butt, tracing it contours lasciviously.
He gasped. How dare anybody do that to him! It was sexual harassment, for god's sake, and ... About to turn and demand an explanation from the culprit, his jaw almost dropped to the floor when he saw that a teammate, wearing the green Shoyo jacket, was standing beside him. But ... Without doubt, he must be the one.
He refused to believe it.
"Ne, coach," the guy beside him was saying with a smile, black-rimmed glasses shading his eyes. He ran a hand through his black hair. "The bus is here. Let's go; it's not good if both the captain and vice-captain are late for practice." He winked.
Impossible! Vivid sapphire eyes blinking in disbelief, he could only mutter one word.
"Why?"
The guy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, chuckling softly. He shrugged, then boarded the bus, his companion blushing beet-red after being asked to go first. The question remained forgotten, as the ass-grabbing continued on the bus, albeit discreetly.
Suddenly, he developed a liking for long, lean, and agile fingers.
Part V
A basketball team of a particular school was having a celebration in a pub one night. They were having fun and drinking heartily, all ten guys and two girls. It must be told that only six were members of the team, the other four were close friends of one member.
Mishaps, of course, considering the ruckus they make in training, were inevitable.
Two promising, yet very stubborn players were brawling for the nth time that night. Thankfully, the food fight which they started ceased almost immediately.
Yeah right.
The taller of the two kept on shouting. Exasperated of the noise since he could not sleep, the other doused the loudmouth with a can full of beer.
"Teme, look at what happened to my favorite shirt! Damn you ...!"
"Zzz ..."
"Don't you dare sleep ...!" In rage, he retaliated; he dropped ice cubes down the sleeping guy's pants.
"Mou ..." he woke up with a start, then hurled his sempai's drink down his rival's clothing. "Oops. Sorry. My hand slipped," he informed him coldly.
"Yarou!"
To make the long story short, they ended in a spare bedroom, at their vice-captain's house, locked up by their sempais, unless they do not want to play for the team any longer.
"..." he glared mutinously at the locked door.
But by now, the other one was silent and staring at his companion, who was only wearing underwear under the sheet they were forced to share. Getting an idea, he tugged at the sheet. He took the glass, filled curiously with milk, from the bedside table, and doused his enemy by it, deliberately pouring it down his body and scant clothing.
He hissed as the slightly cold liquid splashed on him, sloshing between his legs, pooling at his crotch, and therefore successfully soaking his thin boxers. Furious, he raised his fist and delivered a blow. However, the predatory look the other was displaying stayed his hand.
"Sorry." He was grinning mischievously, eyeing the sopping piece of clothing. "I guess you'll just have to go naked ..." he licked his lips in anticipation.
What are you playing at? "I'm cold and it's your stupid fault." Trying his best to ignore his enemy, he pulled off his underwear in one swift tug, then reached for the sheet to cover himself.
"Uh-uh ... I don't think so ..." he breathed, moving closer, still keeping the sheet out of reach. "Well, will you look at that?"
"At what, do'ahou?" he replied without thinking, his pride keeping him from backing away, strands of black hair hiding his blue eyes. What are you trying to do?
"It's hard, kitsune." His hand snaked out to caress the pale, firm, well-toned abdomen, brown eyes fluttering shut provocatively. "Really hard."
He just glared at the indolent fool of an enemy he has. Only when he felt the warm ragged breathing on his cheek then he realized that they were barely a foot away, the intruding hand still on his stomach and was slowly creeping lower ...
"Do'ahou. You're drunk." Bastard. I can't control my body anymore ...
"Hn. And so? What difference does that make? I'm still the tensai ... and you're still the Ice King ..." Undaunted, he brought his hand to his lips, licking and sucking the milk from it, never breaking from the established eye contact with his raven-haired rival.
"I'll have to warm you up, then ..."
"D'you think we should stop them?" An eavesdropper whispered anxiously to another eavesdropper outside the room. "I mean they're drunk and ..."
"Why should we?" He smiled deviously. "The surveillance cameras on your guest room are on, ne, Min-kun?"
"Hisashi ...!" he replied reproachfully.
"Shh ... we still have some business to attend to, don't we, Min-kun ...?"
Owari!!!
Just a little jap word guide ...
genki - high/fine/good/cheerful
gomen - sorry
ne - right?/isn't it?/hey (... *shrug* ...)
koibito - lover
[chotto] matte/ matte yo - wait [a while]
kareshi - boyfriend
kistune - fox
nandemonai - nothing
do'ahou - big fool
sono - that
hentai - pervert
ahou - fool
doush'ta na - why?/what happened?
baka - stupid
tensai - genius
naze - why
yare yare - whatever
iku yo - let's go/come on
sempai - upperclassman
chikushou - obscene swear word
koi - love
teme - you
mou - damn
yarou - damn you
This is according to how I used it. (Sorry!!!)
Author's Notes [a.k.a. Excuses and Explanations]:
Yes, I know, it sucks. I just want to try a humor fic ... not my genre, really ... (sigh)
Anyway ... just for clarifications.
Part I - RuHana (w/ SenHana, SenKosh)
Part II - JinKiyo (w/ KiyoMaki)
Part III - MitKo (this one sucked big time, so, gomen)
Part IV - Hanagata/Fujima (hehehe ... I love this pairing ...)
Part V - HanaRu (w/ MitKo)
Any comments? Any other pairings ...? (Sorry ... I think Akira-kun is better [and cuter!] paired with Hiroaki-kun ... yeah and sorry ... they weren't really main characters ...) I should think that this is very weird ... this is this is the result of my caffeine overdose ...
To sum it all up: This isn't what I meant it to be but ... *shrug*
genre: romance/humor
rating: PG-13 (... or higher, I think, for the weak at heart ... joke)
pairings: yaoi overload
warning: no-plot, not edited
notes: SD: Inoue-sama's. Deal with it. All I can say? (shrug) I watch too much TV (I wonder who can distinguish these ads ...). The ads are not mine, okay? (Duh!) Yeah, and I dedicate this to ... SD fans, Muse-san, and a handful of OCs I have (esp. Kenken). R&R, minna, onegai!
Hehehehe ... try listening to "Kimi ga Suki datto" and "Sekai ga Owaru Made wa" while reading ...
Part I
Your normal, busy, everyday afternoon full of bustles. At a very crowded street, there were two guys, walking together, hand in hand, both glancing at each other every now and then. What drew eyes on them were their height, first of all. One of them was displaying a very disturbing smile, coupled with a gravity-defying hairdo. He was also carrying a tackle box. The reserved one had ice-cold blue fox eyes, slightly shorter than the former, and was glaring at everybody. They kept walking in silence, barely looking at where they were going.
They reached a bend. About to follow, the smiling guy got jerked back, not a single strand misplaced in his gravity-defying hairdo. The foxy-eyed continued walking uninterestedly. He saw the former moments later; he smirked and disappeared among the crowd, a tall tanned redhead in tow. They were holding hands, their fingers intertwined.
Smile still intact, the smiling guy shook his head dejectedly, staring longingly at the couple, azure eyes on the easily distinguishable tinge of red hair.
Rubbing his neck, he sighed, then turned, with an apologetic grin, to face the one who tugged him, whose sapphire glare almost doused his genki spirit.
"Gomen ne, Hiro-kun ..."
With a huff, his blue-eyed koibito walked out on him, not wanting to hear his explanations.
"Matte, Hiro-kun! Gomen!"
He had to run to catch up with his enraged kareshi.
"Hiro-kun, hear me out first!"
"Yeah, and you're not ogling Sakuragi Hanamichi back there!" he hollered. "Oh, shut up, Akira, leave me alone!"
"Hiro-kun! Chotto matte ... Hiro-kun, gomen ...!"
"Ne, kitsune, what's that about?" a redhead asked his raven-haired companion after suddenly being dragged off and hurriedly ushered inside a cafe.
"Nandemonai, do'ahou." They ordered briskly; the redhead kept popping the same question up in intervals of four seconds. Finally, he relented.
"Sono hentai ahou."
The redhead frowned. "Smiley? Doush'ta na? Is he making moves on you?" He took a gulp of his steaming café au lait, not caring about its temperature, hissing under his breath. "Damn that smiley ..."
"Do'ahou." He sighed. It's the other way around, baka.
"The tensai will pretend that he did not hear that." He paused, then raised an eyebrow. "So, where are we going now? I thought we're celebrating; it's our 4th monthsary, after all." He gave him a knowing look. "Not the movie house ..."
Hn. Do'ahou. "Hm? Fine. My house." He shrugged; there was an unmistakable glint in his fox eyes.
"Naze?" the redhead was suspicious. "Shit!" he gasped suddenly, as the raven-haired across him began languid strokes on his thighs with his leg, under the table, of course.
"Because, do'ahou," he explained, not stopping on his ministrations, a smile hovering on his lips. "I've got ice cream. And there's a swimming pool in my house." He released the redhead and stood up.
Panting as he stood up, he blushed a deep crimson as he caught on the implications of the statements.
"Don't even dare ...! It may be our monthsary ...!"
"Yare yare." He sighed, then stole a quick breath-taking kiss. "Iku yo."
Part II
At a diner that beautiful summer weekend, a very cute, tanned, though old-looking guy was eating, minding his own business. His brown hair was falling on his eyes repetitively as he bent down to answer his schoolwork, making him sigh. He noticed this attractive guy with wild pitch-black hair kept shooting him glances, and was currently chuckling good-naturedly at his expression whenever he had to fix his hair.
Accepting his ill luck, as he can't even understand his homework, he took a sip of water, and chanced on seeing the other still gazing openly at him with a curious smile. He smiled and nodded at him in return. The other only smiled wider.
Suddenly, the wild-haired guy was sopping wet with gobs of fettuccini ala carbonara down his front, staining his clothing, and painfully hot on his crotch. Guilty, his eyes pleaded silently to his sempai/lover, who stood up abruptly to leave.
"Enjoy your lunch alone, Kiyota," he said coolly, shrugging on his Kainan jacket, which he usually wears to basketball practices. "Or why don't you join with Maki-sempai? Since you're so intent on staring and smiling at him as if I'm not with you." With that and not so much of a backward glance, he turned his heel and left.
"Chikushou ..." He stood up, throwing bills to the table for his ruined lunch with his koi, who had left him. "Soichiro-kun, let me explain ... Matte yo ..."
He woke up with a start. The dream came back to him painfully real as he tried to still his galloping heartbeat. He pushed his wild black hair with one hand.
A few minutes later, he noticed the stained clothing he wore to lunch early that day. It was splattered with carbonara sauce.
"Nooo ..." he wailed.
Part III
The summer breeze wafts in a fresh scent of flora; the night was warm without being unbearably hot. A turret dungeon was strung with tension, as three captives were chained hand and foot to the wall, waiting in hysteric anxiety.
It was the bespectacled Prince's 18th birthday, and upon his wish he could choose any, if not all, of the three prisoners to be subjected to a public execution by garrote.
Without warning, an entourage of royal subjects entered the dungeon. Among their midst was the brown haired prince, looking at each of them in a somber manner, as if their bondage were a gruesome sight to behold.
The three were disheartened to note that the prince, who was attired in tight black leather clothing, was holding a coiled whip.
Were they all to be lashed before the execution? It seemed to be the case.
The Prince scrutinized them carefully, one by one. He stopped by one, scarred, the least remarkable, with chin-length hair and piercing blue eyes, and used the handle of the whip to lift his chin and gaze at the weary face. At once, he was released from his bonds, but he was too weak to move.
They, the prince and the prisoner, went into an adjacent room alone, in spite of incessant protests. A few minutes of silence ensued. Befuddled by this, the chosen prisoner, pushing his luck, spoke to the prince, voice harsher than he meant it to be.
"What do you want of me?"
Though expected, the sudden sound of the whip made him wince; the sting made him grimace in pain. He was most surprised when he felt a pair of moist lips grazing the abused area, tongue darting out to lap at the blood from a freshly incised wound, blurring pain and pleasure.
"I'm not going to die, am I?"
A sad smile. "No. You're not."
"Then why ... why ... are you ... doing this?" he slurred like a drunkard, trying to clear his mind of the haze the caresses had inflicted.
"Because I can." A pause. "Because I want to."
He stood in front of him, brown eyes gentle behind the glasses.
"Because I care."
Part IV
Extremely aggrieved and bored to death, the eighteen year-old young man waited impatiently for the bus. It was past 9:30 in the morning, and basketball practice at their school was to commence in exactly thirty minutes.
Cursing his ill luck that he didn't think of driving to school or something equally more convenient and efficient than riding the bus, he pointedly ignored the common sight of gaggles of annoying females who kept on staring and drooling over him.
A blur of green went past. Staring at his watch, he muttered to himself silently until something made him stop.
That something happened to be the impolite palming of his behind. Or to be more direct, someone slapped and pinched his ass in a manner akin to appreciation. And the only one that could do that was the tall guy standing next to him, waiting for the bus.
A shiver ran through his spine as long lean agile fingers kneaded his butt, tracing it contours lasciviously.
He gasped. How dare anybody do that to him! It was sexual harassment, for god's sake, and ... About to turn and demand an explanation from the culprit, his jaw almost dropped to the floor when he saw that a teammate, wearing the green Shoyo jacket, was standing beside him. But ... Without doubt, he must be the one.
He refused to believe it.
"Ne, coach," the guy beside him was saying with a smile, black-rimmed glasses shading his eyes. He ran a hand through his black hair. "The bus is here. Let's go; it's not good if both the captain and vice-captain are late for practice." He winked.
Impossible! Vivid sapphire eyes blinking in disbelief, he could only mutter one word.
"Why?"
The guy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, chuckling softly. He shrugged, then boarded the bus, his companion blushing beet-red after being asked to go first. The question remained forgotten, as the ass-grabbing continued on the bus, albeit discreetly.
Suddenly, he developed a liking for long, lean, and agile fingers.
Part V
A basketball team of a particular school was having a celebration in a pub one night. They were having fun and drinking heartily, all ten guys and two girls. It must be told that only six were members of the team, the other four were close friends of one member.
Mishaps, of course, considering the ruckus they make in training, were inevitable.
Two promising, yet very stubborn players were brawling for the nth time that night. Thankfully, the food fight which they started ceased almost immediately.
Yeah right.
The taller of the two kept on shouting. Exasperated of the noise since he could not sleep, the other doused the loudmouth with a can full of beer.
"Teme, look at what happened to my favorite shirt! Damn you ...!"
"Zzz ..."
"Don't you dare sleep ...!" In rage, he retaliated; he dropped ice cubes down the sleeping guy's pants.
"Mou ..." he woke up with a start, then hurled his sempai's drink down his rival's clothing. "Oops. Sorry. My hand slipped," he informed him coldly.
"Yarou!"
To make the long story short, they ended in a spare bedroom, at their vice-captain's house, locked up by their sempais, unless they do not want to play for the team any longer.
"..." he glared mutinously at the locked door.
But by now, the other one was silent and staring at his companion, who was only wearing underwear under the sheet they were forced to share. Getting an idea, he tugged at the sheet. He took the glass, filled curiously with milk, from the bedside table, and doused his enemy by it, deliberately pouring it down his body and scant clothing.
He hissed as the slightly cold liquid splashed on him, sloshing between his legs, pooling at his crotch, and therefore successfully soaking his thin boxers. Furious, he raised his fist and delivered a blow. However, the predatory look the other was displaying stayed his hand.
"Sorry." He was grinning mischievously, eyeing the sopping piece of clothing. "I guess you'll just have to go naked ..." he licked his lips in anticipation.
What are you playing at? "I'm cold and it's your stupid fault." Trying his best to ignore his enemy, he pulled off his underwear in one swift tug, then reached for the sheet to cover himself.
"Uh-uh ... I don't think so ..." he breathed, moving closer, still keeping the sheet out of reach. "Well, will you look at that?"
"At what, do'ahou?" he replied without thinking, his pride keeping him from backing away, strands of black hair hiding his blue eyes. What are you trying to do?
"It's hard, kitsune." His hand snaked out to caress the pale, firm, well-toned abdomen, brown eyes fluttering shut provocatively. "Really hard."
He just glared at the indolent fool of an enemy he has. Only when he felt the warm ragged breathing on his cheek then he realized that they were barely a foot away, the intruding hand still on his stomach and was slowly creeping lower ...
"Do'ahou. You're drunk." Bastard. I can't control my body anymore ...
"Hn. And so? What difference does that make? I'm still the tensai ... and you're still the Ice King ..." Undaunted, he brought his hand to his lips, licking and sucking the milk from it, never breaking from the established eye contact with his raven-haired rival.
"I'll have to warm you up, then ..."
"D'you think we should stop them?" An eavesdropper whispered anxiously to another eavesdropper outside the room. "I mean they're drunk and ..."
"Why should we?" He smiled deviously. "The surveillance cameras on your guest room are on, ne, Min-kun?"
"Hisashi ...!" he replied reproachfully.
"Shh ... we still have some business to attend to, don't we, Min-kun ...?"
Owari!!!
Just a little jap word guide ...
genki - high/fine/good/cheerful
gomen - sorry
ne - right?/isn't it?/hey (... *shrug* ...)
koibito - lover
[chotto] matte/ matte yo - wait [a while]
kareshi - boyfriend
kistune - fox
nandemonai - nothing
do'ahou - big fool
sono - that
hentai - pervert
ahou - fool
doush'ta na - why?/what happened?
baka - stupid
tensai - genius
naze - why
yare yare - whatever
iku yo - let's go/come on
sempai - upperclassman
chikushou - obscene swear word
koi - love
teme - you
mou - damn
yarou - damn you
This is according to how I used it. (Sorry!!!)
Author's Notes [a.k.a. Excuses and Explanations]:
Yes, I know, it sucks. I just want to try a humor fic ... not my genre, really ... (sigh)
Anyway ... just for clarifications.
Part I - RuHana (w/ SenHana, SenKosh)
Part II - JinKiyo (w/ KiyoMaki)
Part III - MitKo (this one sucked big time, so, gomen)
Part IV - Hanagata/Fujima (hehehe ... I love this pairing ...)
Part V - HanaRu (w/ MitKo)
Any comments? Any other pairings ...? (Sorry ... I think Akira-kun is better [and cuter!] paired with Hiroaki-kun ... yeah and sorry ... they weren't really main characters ...) I should think that this is very weird ... this is this is the result of my caffeine overdose ...
To sum it all up: This isn't what I meant it to be but ... *shrug*
