Smash Hit!

Rating: PG-13

Chapter: 6/15

Pairings: Shinji/Kamio and more! Whoo!

Warnings: Making out ahoy! cheers!

Summary: Success hasn't come to Shinji and Kamio until they get a chance to play at the prestigious Atobe Keigo's concert. However, with many obstacles blocking their way, can they make it to the top? AU, shounen-ai, bandfic

Warning: This chapter is, as of now, unbetaed. I spologize, but I had to get this off of my harddrive ASAP as it will be found otherwise. Until then, live with this version, please. Next chapter will hold much more plot. :) I just had to get back into the swing of it.

Enjoy! Thank you for the reviews! I love you all!

"I'm impressed," Atobe said, voice rising over the fading strings of the last guitar riff. He He approached Kamio slowly, eyes set on him, stride lax and measured. "But it still wasn't good enough."

Kamio started to say something, then stopped, then tried to say something again, but couldn't fit thre words together. He had just given his best, he and Shinji jjust pulled off the best fucking performance of their lives, and this bastard was telling them they weren't good enough? He felt his temper sweel and he bit his lip, the microphone passing awkwardly from hand to hand in anxiety. They couldn't have blown it...

He turned to look at Shinji from behind his shoulder, eyes heavy. Shinji was staring at him as if he had never seen him before, lips soft and almost smiling. Kamio turned back around, facing Atobe with a grim set of his jaw. "Well, what do you want from us?"

Atobe smiled widely, haughtily, and paced forward toawrds Kamio, eyes predatory. He brushed a hand against the immaculate white of his pants, scuffed a intimisdatingly expensive shoe agasinst the floor daintily. "I want," He drawled slowly, eyes falling from Kamio to Shinji, then back, as if sizing them both up. Like a alligator with two young deer, Kamio thought. Atobe was level with him now, very close. "You. I want you, all of you. Both of you."

Kamio's body was frozen, and what should have been relief flowing through his veins was something a bit thicker, a bit more scared and fast and dangerous. He swallowed hard, felt his throat bob under Atobe's gaze. "Yes," He managed. "You can have us." And they would make it big and Atobe could have their fame, too. As long as they made it.

Suddenly Shinji was there, very close to him, touching reassuringly against the force that was Atobe, cupping his shoulder with one skinny hand. "Thank you for this opportunity," He said lowly, faint voice ringing surreal-like in Kamio's ear, swiriling along the shell. His insides twisted curiously.

"Yes, well, I am a generous kind of man." Atobe said laughingly, stepping back and releasing his vacuum from the two. Kamio could suddenly breathe, and he leaned back into the reasssuring touch on his shoulder, muscles loosening. He hadn't realized he had been sweating throughout the performance, how hard he had actually given it to Atobe, to the room, to anyone who could have been watching. He felt damn exhausted.

"You were great," he muttered behind him, heading away from the stage area, back toward where Fuji was observing them with a mysterious expression. He felt more than saw Shinji smile.

"You were good," Fuji called to them, unzipping his jacket. "But still..." He opened his eyes, which were shut innocently prior, and looked at them, actually /looked/ at them. "Watch and learn, neh?" He stepped past them, towards the microphone Kamio had dropped.

Kamio collapsed bodily against the wall, staring distantly at Fuji, then at the hand waving in front of his face. He turned a myopic gaze towards Shinji, then raised his hand to wrap his fingers around and between Shinji's. "Heh. You're hand is shaky." He murmured, ears pricking at the faint noise of Fuji tuning his guitar.

Shinji brought Kamio's hand to his side, resting the back of his hand against the seam of his jeans. "You're cold," He said slowly, running free fingers through his hair, eyes fluttering close. He let his knees weaken and slid down the wall, tugging Kamio down with him. "Let's watch." Fuji had started some warm up notes, his voice lilting faintly, across the large room.

Kamio sighed and coughed weakly, his forehead sweating lightly. "Yeah," He answered simply, fingers moving in small circles on the back of Shinji's hand, feeeling out the fragile bones there and pressing gently.

They sat quietly then, watching Fuji warming up, growing from the silent boy from the car to something wild and alive beneath the bright lights of the great white room, something that would come at you in the night with great, white snarling teeth. Something deadly and beautiful...

"I'm ready," He called out at last, toawrds Atobe, smiling simply but not at him. At Kamio. Daring. Mocking, almost, a playgorund "I'm better than you". Kamio frowned deeply and licked his dry lips, glaring at Fuji from the inside of the shining rim of his faux glasses.

He hated him, then. Because he was better, and he knew it, and Atobe knew it. From his clothes to his attitutde to his voice, he was on a totally different class.

Fuji started to sing then, and he was better than Kamio had imagined, has remembered, and he hated him even more.

"I can't believe we start tomorrow," Kamio moaned, letting gravity take hold and pull him into the comfortable hold of the mattress.He sniffed lightly, taking in the combined scent of deoderant, shampoo, Shinji and him and smiled softly, exhausted but strangely happy. He had fallen asleep at least twice on the car ride home, head bouncing onto Shinji's shoulder as he tried unsuccesfully to stay awake. It was nice to be home.

The bed dipped next to him, and the presence of Shinji's hand, cold and thin, made itself known on Kamio's back. "Mm," Kamio purred, feeling his neck prick in delicious goosebumpos at the feeling of his friend's fingers digging into his back, pressing out the tension. Kamio stared at the wall, just letting Shinji pay attention to him, not really paying attention to anything himself. Shinji bent low, working into the flat, bony planes of Kamio's shoulder blades, breath heavy over his friends neck, lips almost brushing the red dyed strand of hair resting there.

Then, simple as breathing, Shinji kissed Kamio's neck, a long, deliberate touch.

Kamio tensed like a guitar string wound too tight, then, played under Shinji's light fingertips and too close to snapping for comfort. He opened his mouth, gaping like a fish, for air that wouldn't quite reach his lungs but hung around his flushed face teasingly unbreathable.

It was then time stood still, the silence between them like a question. Shinji was wide open for rejection, Kamio could practiacally feel his friend bared before him, pleading, almost. A yes or a no. Something was on the balance of a knife, a huge decision posed in the forn of Shinji's lips, something Kamio just had to reach out and touch-

He was afraid. Shit, the last few days were as scary as hell.

He was alarmed. Was was getting into Shinji? They were both physically dependant on each other, but never to this extent... It... didn't bother him though. It really didn't.

It... was fine.

Kamio, after the split second deliberations that usually decide the most impotant decisions in one's life, took a breath and closed his eyes.

"Shinji." His voice was so steady, so different than what Kamio felt like on the inside. Shinji hadn't really moved, not really, had just shifted so that his neck molded into Kamio's shoulder, pressing there in a patient manner. Kamio turned his head into the pillow fully for a moment, breathing deeply and smelling their scents intermingled in the pillow cover. His stomach had turned into a thousand worms, twisting and turning upon themselves.

He breathed, a final time, and turned over. Shinji fell off of him with a loud noise, one that started in his throat and caught in his mouth wetly, one that made Kamio's hair stand on end in a bizarre excitement. Kamio's hand pulled on Shinji's shoulder, tugging him down on top of him, chest to chest this time. "I'm going to kiss you." He announced into Shinji's hair, dragging skittish fingernails down his back, then up, then down again. "I want to." He was sure. He did want to.

And then Shinji spoke, right into Kamio's collarbone, in a tone he had nmever spoken in before. "You don't have to," It was soft, but reverberated through Kamio's body like an empty drum pounded too hard. "I never want you to have to. You don't... Don't kiss me, Kamio." And then Shinji was shaking a little, and Kamio wrapped him up in his arms tighter than was comfortable, a hard, aching embrace. "I just wanted to so bad today... right now... I don't know why. I don't know."

Kamio smiled, nervous. "Hey," He murmured, spreading his thighs out slowly, like some sort of unconscious physical reassurance. Shinji rested there, breathing deeply, obviously upset. Kamio tried again. "Shinji. Don't... come on. Would I ever do anything I didn't want to?" Shinji shook his head then, lightly, so lightly Kamio almost didn't notice but for the shift in hair tickling his nose. Kamio played with Shinji's hair then, like one plays with the hair of a cat, stroking and weaving his fingers through the long ponytail. "You're all I have, Shinji. Why would I use you?"

It was so truthful it hurt. Kamio didn't regret his words, no matter how small he falt in the wake of them. He felt like a little kid who had just written their name on a desk with the name of their crush, linked by a marker heart. Like he had just jumped into something he wasn't prepared for.

He certainly wasn't prepared for the sobbing kiss that Shinji gave him in the next split-second, the tension in his friend's arms as he hoisted himself above Kamio, desperately mouthing at him. Kamio arched up instantaneously, wondering at the way their lips felt- chapped and wet, sliding- the way their evening stubble itched almost pleasantly against each other's chins.

"Feels like a... live show," Kamio gasped laughingly, foot digging into the blankets and hands digging into Shinji's hair. "The adrenaline..." His body was on fire, electric fire it felt like. Kmaio had never had a chance to kiss anyone else before Shinji. It was always Shinji. He felt like there would never be anyone but Shinji. He muttured this into Shinji's ear.

"Kamio," Shinji purred, and it was a purr, really, like one Kamio would get from his old cat right when he scritched him under the chin, the happiest noise an animal could make. Shinji kissed him again, sloppily, and Kamio could feel the prick of Shinji's nipples into his chest and remembered faintly that the room was cold, even though it felt like it was on fire-

Bang.

They froze.

Bang, bang. "Kamio! I know you're in there!" Gakuto. Kamio cursed loudly.

It was a quick disentanglement, but a messy one to be sure when Shinji almost refused to retract his hand from underneath Kamio's shirt.

"...Open up, you two! I brought dinner." A bit softer, not meant for Kamio and Shinji to hear. "Yuushiiii, hold this bag. My arm hurts."

Kamio looked at Shinji, flushed and amused and all-over pleased with the situation, and got up to open the door.

Sorry if that was not to your liking! Was it too rushed? That was the only way I could see it getting across... Ah! Oh well. There's always... NEXT TIME!