summary: Murasaki should probably learn a bit self-control.
Nice stares at Koneko disbelievingly, sticking his finger in his ear to ward off the wax that is possibly impairing his hearing. Disappointed to see that his hearing is in mint condition, he racks his brain to provide the manager a sensible response, in the least.
"What," he manages eloquently.
Koneko sighs, frustration threatening to overtake her tone. "I said that Hamatora has been noticed by a popular magazine and they requested a photoshoot of all the members," she grits out, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently as her tail flutters about behind her.
Nice, for some apparent reason, is starstruck. "Well, I get that. But why?"
Murasaki grunts from his position next to the brunet. "Why are you complaining? It's good for publicity and you'll get more customers this way. Heavens know you need it," he mutters the last part inaudibly under his breath. Nice, catching the statement, pouts.
"Hmph, we'll do it," Nice surrenders.
Koneko smirks at the russet. "I don't believe I gave the impression that you had a choice."
Murasaki chuckles at the retort, resulting in Nice punching his shoulder. The lavender-haired man shrugs in response. "What? That was pretty good," he chortles, further pissing Nice off.
"Oh yeah," Koneko interrupts the bantering duo, "make sure to wear your best clothes! We want to make a good impression, so don't mess this up!" She says, the last part directed to Nice and glares pointedly at him.
Nice laughs awkwardly, a finger scratching at the bandage that seems permanently attached to his cheek. "Heh, well you see Koneko…" he trails off, searching for an adequate response as to not anger the cat-girl. He gesticulates animatedly, before blurting out, "I don't have any particularly nice clothes for the photo…shoot…since I can't…afford a suit…Koneko please don't look at me like that."
The manager's face resembles that of a ripened tomato, one that is about to explode. Nice, unfortunately, is on the receiving end of said explosion.
Koneko takes the newspaper from the bar counter, rolls it up and smacks Nice with it; the resulting sound of the connection of the paper and Nice's head makes Murasaki visibly wince.
"You're going to find a suit, one way or another! And it's at 5, sharp!" she fumes.
Murasaki thinks it's a good enough time to interrupt, ruffling the sore spot on Nice's bouncy brown hair sympathetically. "I can let you borrow one of mine if you want," he offers.
Nice sighs from the rubbing, pleased at his boyfriend's ministrations. "But it would be too big. Have you seen your muscly chest?" he says, patting Murasaki's upper torso playfully.
"Well, it's better than nothing," Murasaki supplies, removing his hand from Nice's head to swat away the brunet's.
Nice rubs his bandage again, this time on the other cheek. "You make a compelling argument."
"Of course," Murasaki scoffs.
Koneko, upon realizing Nice's blunt observation, can't help but voice her interest. "Umm, I don't mean to interrupt, but Nice, how do you know how big Murasaki's chest is?" she inquires.
Nice grins at the manager. "Because I've seen it in bed - ack!" he yelps, a rough hand coming to enclose his mouth in a vice grip. "Murasaki, what the hell man?!" Nice shouts, trying to remove the offending appendage off his face.
Murasaki blushes, effectively pinning Nice's hands to his stomach, the brunet's muffled yelling being ignored. "It's nothing, Koneko. We'll just go and inform the others," he says and with that picks up the thrashing russet and perches him on his shoulders.
"Jeez, Murasaki, can you ever take a joke?!" Nice's shouting growing more distant as the lavender-haired man strolls through the street with a screaming man on his shoulder as if it was the most normal thing on the planet.
Koneko sighs and rubs her neck. "What am I supposed to do with those two?" The question was directed to no one in particular. Master grunts and continues the grind the never-ending coffee beans.
Nice groans for the umpteenth time and throws up his hands in defeat. "This is impossible! I can run at the speed of sound and I can't tie a stupid tie!" He fiddles with the offending garment again, finding it extremely difficult to tie the stupid thing and is very close to throwing it at someone out of mere frustration.
Murasaki sighs at the brunet. "This is pathetic, even for you," he says, making no motion to help his boyfriend as he buttons his own suit jacket.
Nice continues to make disgruntled noises as his fingers clumsily forms an ugly knot with the black fabric. "Uggh, Murasaki, help me!" he whines, seeing that his journey to the land of creating perfect knots is going nowhere.
Murasaki chuckles, amused at Nice's misfortune and walks over to the struggling brunet. Nice glares in return, finding this torture nowhere near as humorous as Murasaki finds it and drops his hands to his side, allowing the lavender-haired man to take over.
They're at the alley where the photoshoot is taking place, cameras and lights scattered across the gray pavement. No one seems to pay them any heed as everyone was submerged in their own respective tasks.
Nice watches in awe as expert fingers whirl around the soft fabric, interested as to how the same calloused and rough appendages that are able of snapping a building in half in a manner of minutes is capable of looking so graceful. He continues to stare as the fingers swiftly ties a knot in a blurry haze, pulls it to the top and fastens it on the bottom of his collar. Murasaki steps back and hums, pleased with his work.
Nice, upon noticing that the other has finished, travels his gaze to Murasaki. The suit fits him well, complimenting his frame (Nice widens when his eyes rest on Murasaki's arms because holy shit look at those biceps) and manages to make the man impossibly more handsome than he already is.
'Aw fuck,' Nice gulps, 'he's really hot.'
Murasaki continues to admire his handiwork and gives Nice a once-over. He's content with how the brunet looks and finds it positively adorable that the suit jacket hangs a bit loosely off his athletic frame, considering Murasaki's bulkier body. Nice's dress shirt is also crumpled around the waist as it sticks out a bit over the belt, the brunet having sloppily shoved the oversized apparel in his pants. His musings are cut short when Nice tugs his tie, bringing their faces closer than necessary for mere conversing.
"What is it?" Murasaki asks and raises a pale eyebrow when silence is met with his inquiry. "Nice?" he tries again, settling his hand on the other's shoulder and lightly shakes him.
Nice, enlightened with the sudden realization that Murasaki is goddamn attractive as hell in that suit, decides to act upon his desires. He raises his mouth to Murasaki's and presses firmly, yanking the lavender-haired man even closer so that the hand clutching his tie is nestled in the wrinkles of Murasaki's dress shirt. The brunet places a hand behind the Murasaki's head and tilts his own, mouthing at the latter's lips all the while.
Murasaki, certainly not expecting this sudden turn of events, grips onto Nice's hips for balance and presses into the kiss, Nice humming in satisfaction. Breaking from the kiss, he trails his teeth down Nice's throat and raises his hand to push the neon green headphones and his collar aside and sucks randomly on the column of pale flesh presented to him.
The brunet gasps shakily under the attention and keens when the other man scrapes and sucks rather harshly on particular spot on the juncture of his neck and collarbone. Murasaki pulls away and smirks, his lips swollen and glistening with his own spit, leaving lovely shades of bruised scarlet across the russet's neck. Nice is left as a panting and blushing mess, grasping onto Murasaki's arms for support (because he's certainly not trusting his own shaky knees as of the moment).
"Ahh," Murasaki starts, concerned that the love bites he gave Nice are rimmed with a mauve hue. "That's a problem."
"W-What?" Nice makes an incoherent noise, his voice too shaky at the moment to form proper sentences (and he does not want to show it, knowing all to well that Murasaki would give him shit all the way to his grave if he ever knew that only he can make Nice like this).
Murasaki seems hesitant to answer. "Are you sure you won't get mad?"
Nice frowns. "Just say it."
The taller man looks nervous, something that also made Nice feel a bit edgy as well. "Murasaki, if you don't say anything, I swear on my headphones - "
"I may or may not have given you hickeys," the other male blurts, cheeks reddening with his outburst.
Nice stills, digesting the information. The brunet's silence makes Murasaki worry for his life, as he probably thought of five ways to throttle him.
"Murasaki, you piece of shit!" Nice shouts, fists thumping on the lavender-haired man's shoulders in an angry flurry, the male being attacked failing to protect himself from the onslaught as he prays to some sympathetic deity out there to save his sorry ass.
"Alright guys! Time to take the photos!" a cameraman shouts. Murasaki, seeing that Nice was momentarily distracted, took this as a chance to run to the set, as it is the only solace to escape the brunet's wrath.
Art, who was chatting happily with the other members of the crew, strolls to the set, Birthday and Ratio appearing out of nowhere, looking equally breathless (considering Ratio's disheveled hair and Birthday's crumpled shirt).
Nice grumbles angrily, seeing that his boyfriend was saved for the time being. For now, he had to find a way to hid these bruises.
A cameraman approaches him. "Ah, Nice, would you mind sitting in the front on the lowest step over there?" he points, completely oblivious to Nice's mumbling string of colorful curses.
He sits on the aforementioned step reluctantly, spreading his legs out. Using quick thinking, Nice uses his headphones to cover the hickeys as Murasaki settles behind him, laughing quietly. Art sits next Murasaki, Birthday and Ratio deciding to sit all the way in the back. Nice is grateful that the crew doesn't mention anything about his unkempt state.
"We're going to take the pictures now," a woman announces and signals for the camera crew to begin. As a series of blinding flashes onslaughts Nice's eyes, he severely hopes that the headphones are effectively hiding his bruises.
"Alright!" the woman from before claps. Murasaki stands slowly, attracting the confused stares of everyone other than Nice, who is preoccupied with staring at the ground, motionless."We're done here! Thank you for cooperating with us so nicely!"
And with that, Nice promptly chases Murasaki down the alleyway, intent on giving him a one-way ticket to hell.
.
.
fin.
[muffled laughing in the distance] oh god im horrible
im not sure if this is just me but i feel like my writing style is changing or somthing i dunno maybe its just me