Title: How K Got His Start in the Adult Industry
Fandom: Gravitation
Theme: #2 – Rainbows & Butterflies
Pairing: Yuki Eiri x Shindou Shuichi
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Alludes to nekkid male sex… but hey, when does Gravitation never do that? Or, better yet, when do I never do that. Naughty naughty.
Summary: Crack. I can't even tell you whether it's good crack or not. I guess that's the chance you take when you buy it off the streets? (Honestly, I think all of the angst got to me; I imploded and then I started smoking it in large Columbian quantities.)
He was stunning. He was beautiful. He frowned in the mirror.
"I look like an idiot," said the idiot, feeling irritated. His boyfriend gnawed lazily on a nicotine stick while he lounged laconically on the couch behind him.
"Good. False advertising would be deceitful, and apparently your personal designer knew what she was doing."
Shuichi proceeded to glare in the mirror at Eiri, who pretended not to notice. "I can't believe they expect me to wear this for our new CD cover! I look like a drag queen," he moaned despairingly. Eiri's eyebrows rose slightly as he looked over at Shuichi again with a cat-like smirk.
"A Teletubby drag queen," he suggested unhelpfully. This time, Shuichi turned to meet Eiri's gaze with a look that could wilt flowers. "Now that isn't a very cheerful expression," Eiri continued wickedly. "Nobody likes a grumpy Teletubby."
"Yukiiiiiiiiiii," the singer whined, his anger subsiding into pure desolation. The flashing butterfly antennae slipped a little over his forehead as his shoulders sagged. "They can't make me go out like this, they can't! The cover will look ridiculous! All of my fans will think I've gone off the deep end!"
Eiri eyed the rainbow-colored spandex jumpsuit critically. "You were psychotic to begin with, Shuichi. I fail to see the point in hiding it any longer… plus, what better way to announce loudly to the world that you screw your own team?"
"Yuki, you are not helping!" Shuichi wailed, covering his face with his hands.
"… the red nail polish is a nice touch, I must admit…"
"Yuki, I am this close to asking if you can be in the photo shoot with me in a matching outfit!"
Eiri scoffed at Shuichi's threat as the sound of the nicotine stick rattling across his molars echoed around the small dressing room.
"Bullshit," he replied plainly. His voice betrayed a small degree of worry. "There's no way you could ever make that happen." Shuichi smirked, the bright, sparkly lipstick faintly reminding Eiri of the Cheshire Cat.
"K would think it'd make great publicity," he said slyly, tapping his bright blue platform heels together. His boyfriend turned a pale shade of green, horrible images running through his mind. K would shoot himself in the arm if he could ever convince Eiri to do a photo shoot with Shuichi.
In fact, K would hold Eiri at gunpoint to make him do a photo shoot with Shuichi. He could see it now, his pink, sparkling butterfly Speedos, complete with pink butterfly nipple covers…
'Stupid gun-toting American bastard,' thought Eiri bitterly. He hated the look of triumph on Shuichi's face.
"Threatening me with humiliation so that I will be supportive of you," he said smoothly, holding his hands out toward Shuichi in one fluid motion. "I have to admit I'm impressed you're smart enough to do it." Shuichi bent down and crawled into a ball in Eiri's arms with a little smile.
"I learn from the best," he said simply. "But honestly… Yuki… there is no way I am wearing this a second longer, let alone for that photo shoot!"
Eiri spat out his nicotine stick behind the couch and smiled hungrily into Shuichi's bright, newly-dyed green hair. "Then take off all your clothes, and leave the rest to me."
Less than five minutes later, Shindou Shuichi's dressing room was emitting very loud, very… unmistakable sounds for the rest of the studio to hear. K groaned, then turned to the head photographer.
"We'll have to reschedule again," he said irately as he clenched the semi-automatic in his holster. The photographer balked, his fat face becoming red with anger and embarrassment.
"Mr. K!" he said in a shrill voice. "Perhaps, instead of assuming I have all the time in the world for this photo shoot, you should go in there and say something!" K turned to glare at the man while simultaneously pointing his gun at his neck. The photographer gulped.
"Okay, then, why don't you do it if you're so busy, hotshot?"
A loud crash came from the dressing room, followed by a growl and a high-pitched giggle. Then the sound of something ripping and the crack of a whip…
"Two days from now at noon?" said the resigned photographer. K put his gun down and smiled genially at the short man.
"Thank you for your cooperation," he said politely, before turning to face Shuichi's dressing room again with a pained expression. He decided that through this experience, he had, in fact, learned a few more things about managing Bad Luck:
Do not let Rage insist on stepping in as the 'artistic designer' of the new CD cover,
Do not let Yuki Eiri keep Shuichi 'company' in his dressing room under any pretenses, and
Next time he would bug Shuichi's dressing room with hidden cameras, just in case his boyfriend managed to sneak in again.
After all, sex tapes still counted as publicity… right?
And behind K, Hiro and Fujisaki sighed in overjoyed relief at the cancellation of the shoot. Real men, after all, were not meant to sport yellow vinyl bikinis and red high heels.
end.
AN: Perhaps I should write an epilogue with K's adventures in bringing his (inevitably created and absolutely hawt) sex tapes to Hollywood. Just kidding.
And dear God it's been a long time since I've written something funny—I feel rusty and old. I don't even know if it's funny. You be the judge, I guess. Oh, and a humongous thank-you to my new beta, Vicki! Anyone who puts up with my inability to reply to emails within 1-2 weeks deserves a gold star.