#jujywrites

He would have continued to pontificate except, in a viper-quick movement, Rob swoops forward and gets him pinned to the wall, arm barring his escape. Neil is abruptly and fully winded, a wheeze scraping from his throat.

"I'm not clever?" Staring Neil down point blank, Rob's fury is obvious. "Anyone with eyes can see you're leading them both on. You'll get your ego boost and then leave broken hearts in your wake."

Neil has a reply to that, but with Rob's arm pressing against his throat, he can't get words out. It's not like that.

"And when that happens, you... we'll all..." Rob shakes his head and holds Neil's gaze again. "You know as well as I do how often all our paths cross, so don't make me out to be some kind of stalker," Rob growls, pressing harder. "You little weasel."

Lava surges through Neil's veins. He blinks and he's on the floor, on top of Robert, sending blocked and unblocked punches to his face. "Son of a bitch. Say that to me again!!"

(Eva and Roxanne care for him, and each other, and he cares for them, how could Rob possibly think—)

How they got here flashes through Neil's mind in milliseconds during the euphoria of a landed hit, during the shock of Rob surging up and tackling him to the floor:

Hurt became anger became painful fury; he broke free of Rob's hold in a rush of strength and flatout bull-rushed him, Rob's surprise turning him into an easily moved object.

Hello, unstoppable force. Neil just stares, breathing hard. Anger is cooling into something else, something he can't name and isn't sure he wants.

Robert seems just as conflicted. There's nothing to read on his face and the fire in his eyes has dimmed, yet Neil feels the turmoil, can almost touch it like a length of rope between them.

But that isn't what he's touching. His hands are against Rob's shoulders with no tension to push him away, only resting. He feels vulnerable in a bottomless way. Only speaking can pull him back from the unnameable brink.

His words, his trusty weapons, have deserted him.

Rob leans closer, and Neil falls into the gap he closes between their lips.

He's both drowning and overwhelmed by oxygen, and he groans, hands twisting into Rob's jacket, his mouth opening to Rob's tongue.

This isn't supposed to happen. It's supposed to be wrong. But Neil's always been selective about rules.

That's his last coherent thought before movement and touch overtake him. Firstly, he can breathe again. "Oh, god—!"

Because Rob broke the kiss to put one hand on Neil's chest and the other down his pants, into his underwear.

A panting laugh escapes him. Had Rob thought he'd be stopped? His own erection is obvious and Neil has a feral need to return the favor, but he can't seem to move anything besides his hips against Rob's hand. "Ah, ah...!" One hand reaches out blindly and he groans, half in frustration, still unable to speak. He's so close already it's embarrassing. Rob's hand is hot and gentle and he needs to touch Rob back—

"It was going to be Roxie. I always thought that." Rob speaks so quietly that maybe it's to himself, even though he's looking at Neil with a different fire in his eyes now. "For so long, I've wanted... but then..." He sits back, kneels up, hands moving to his slacks.

Neil sits up almost fast enough to get dizzy, hands joining Rob's to pull his pants and boxes down. He reaches for Rob's dick, grasping, squeezing, and his own throbs when Rob shudders and grunts.

"Neil. You're just— you're so..."

He's pure instinct, and need. And what he needs, apparently, is for Rob to push him to the floor again and ruck up his shirt, because he doesn't fight back. What he needs is to get his own pants out of the way, and somehow he manages it in between touching Rob. Rob's hand settles below his clumsily stroking one, and his body presses against Neil's.

Then his hand gets around Neil's dick too, and it presses against Rob's.

The motion is too much. Neil gasps out a string of curses that alone would be plenty to get him the switch for the umpteenth time. "Oh, god, oh my god...!"

Someone's being pretty loud. Neil realizes it's him when Rob kisses him hard again, tongue searching.

He moans with abandon into Rob's mouth, feverishly rocking up against Rob's hand and dick and his own hand, over and over. Please, please, fuck—

His climax is so strong he might have screamed if not for his mouth against Rob's. He hears Rob gasping, a shivering moan, feels sticky warmth over his skin. He bucks repeatedly, maybe whimpering. He's never felt this good.

Then all at once the aftershocks shake him and Rob's mouth parts from his and Neil inhales like he half-drowned. But Rob stays over him, against him. Neil's free hand is gripping his shoulder so hard it takes several seconds for his fingers to loosen. For some reason, he doesn't move his hand.

They breathe together. Neil wonders why he doesn't want to leave his body.

"Ah, damn," Rob mutters presently. He sits up, dislodging Neil's hand, then stumbles to his feet and moves to his bedstand, whipping out a handkerchief from the drawer with one hand and attempting to pull his pants back on with the other.

Neil watches him move away and back to him. He's too soft, cleaning him and Neil up. "Guess you'll have to burn that," Neil says, putting the snark into his voice since he's too tired to smirk.

Rob grunts. He folds the used hankie into itself, then gets a clean one from the drawer, wraps it around the folded one, and stuffs the ball into the laundry bag in the corner.

Speaking is the key that allows Neil to move, too: getting off the floor, straightening his clothes. He straightens Rob's shirt while he's at it, distantly marveling at the lack of internal screaming; Rob gapes, mouth hanging.

He leans down fast to kiss him, but somehow Neil's prepared this time and meets him. No tongue, yet this kiss burns hotter than the others.

When it ends, Rob says, with absolutely no bite, "You're infuriating." Then he turns and walks for the door.

Something possess Neil to ask where he's going.

Rob looks back at him, hand on the doorknob. "I'm taking a walk."

Neil's left staring at the closed door, the image of Rob's back imprinted on him.

After a moment, he turns for his desk. He picks up the pen and paper from the floor and puts them back. He sits down, pulling the chair in, and takes hold of the pen.

Soon it would all be worth it.

She shot down the hill, catching a little air, and whooped with exhilaration.

~~~

"I wonder what Kris and Silver are doing right now," said Ethan, leaning on Lyra's shoulder in the back of their rideshare.

"Making us cookies."

He had to look at her face to tell if she was joking; sure enough, there was that sly smile. "I wish," he said with a laugh. "Silver's probably panicking and trying not to."

Lyra nodded. "And Kris is turning as blue as her hair trying to keep him calm. They're so silly."

"Yeah." He probably had the dopiest smile right now, but Ethan couldn't care less. "They are."

~~~

Silver glared at the milk-filled saucepan as if it were the source of all his problems. The stove was off and he poured the milk straight from the fridge barely a minute ago so it wouldn’t go bad, but….

He looked at his watch. It had only advanced two minutes since the last time it looked, so he took it off and shoved it into his hoodie pocket, grumbling. Surely it wouldn’t be much longer. Why wasn’t Kris answering—

A  thump and a massive clatter by the front door had him racing over to open it.

“Told you I’d make it in time are they here yet hi,” said Kris in what might as well have been one word, shouldering past him into the house.

He regarded with alarm her bike, toppled over on the tiny deck, and set it upright out of the way, engaging the kickstand.

“You didn’t tell me anything, because I didn’t get texts back,” he said with a sigh, shutting the door. “But I didn’t realize you were biking all the way here.”

“I had nervous energy to get out!” Kris was already on the couch, struggling out of her poofy pink coat. “Thanks,” she said as he came over to help her.

“No gloves? Really, Kris…” Looking closer, he thought he could see icicles on her pigtails. He got her coat fully off and hung it by the door, then returned to her and took one of her freezing hands between both of his, rubbing gently but firmly.

“You’re s-s-s-such a w-worrywart,” she said, teeth chattering. “It’s p-plenty warm in here, so w-why…?”

“Adrenaline, maybe.”

He jumped when her other hand touched the back of his neck. “What?” he yelped, looking up. “A-Ah…”

Her face was very close. “I missed you, Silver.”

“Y-Yeah.” He needed to warm her other hand. “Missed you too.”

When she kissed him, he didn’t let go of her hand.

~~~

Lyra tipped the driver when the rideshare app announced they were a minute away. Ethan was jiggling one leg with excitement and she wasn’t much better, charging out of the car with a hurried thank-you and forgetting their bags.

“Hey,” Ethan whined, jogging beside her.

She caught her bag easily. “Last one in’s a Vileplume!”

They were neck and neck all the way up the path until she cleared two porch steps at once, which was nearly a big mistake. Ethan caught her, his bag dropping to the deck so he could pull her up the rest of the way. “Easy there,” he said, leaning into the hug she gave him.

“Sorry.” Embracing him, her spiked heart rate slowed. “I’m just…”

“I know. Me too.”

She walked the last few steps to the door with him carefully. “Hey,” she said, trying to see through the windows, “I have an idea.”

~~~

Kissing Silver was a very warming activity, usually. Kris was insulted that she was still shivering. A brief blast of outside air didn’t help.

Twin thumps were all the warning she got, before—

“We’re home!”

Two of her favorite voices said that!!! She turned to see Ethan and Lyra barreling toward the couch. “Welcome home!” she cried, barely aware of Silver echoing her as the other two crashed into them.

Kris got tangled up and covered in limbs and a riot of winter-clothing color, her face and neck smothered with kisses faster than she could return them.

“Okay, okay—” Silver was laughing as he half-tried to disentangle them, catching Ethan for a kiss while Lyra clung to his back. “I haven’t even made the hot chocolate yet…!”

She glomped onto Ethan’s back in turn. “You’ll want marshmallows, right?” she asked into his neck, nuzzling.

“Whipped cream,” he replied, squirming happily.

Silver grinned. “Tough, you’ll get both.”

As Silver extricated himself, she pulled Ethan back on top of her, laughing.

Imitating a Stufful’s cry, Lyra tackled them both.

“Let me go,” Ethan said dramatically, “I must be sure our boyfriend doesn’t burn down the house!”

“Har, har,” Silver deadpanned from the kitchen. “Love you too.”

Kris watched sideways as Ethan got up, grabbing at his tush for a satisfying squeak— times two, since Lyra had the same idea.

“Don’t get distracted,” said Lyra, fluttering her eyelashes.

Blushing, he patted Kris’s head before going to join Silver.

Lyra kissed her, taking both her hands.

“Question,” said Kris, feathering a hand through Lyra’s hair. “Wanna bake cookies?”

Lyra leapt from the couch, cheering. “You don’t have to ask me twice!”

Tohru sat down and waited a respectable ten seconds before grabbing the magazine back from Yuki, eagerly paging through it. "They finally have a feature article, and— oh, new posters— and look at these pictures!" She laid it on the table so they could see.

Kyo dutifully looked. Several media pictures he'd seen before, mixed in with new live shots, and quite a few that looked surprisingly candid.

"That girl." Yuki pointed at a brown-haired girl who appeared in several pictures, sometimes in the background, sometimes right there with LIPxLIP. "She's cute. Like you, Honda-san."

Tohru went bright red. With absolute mortification, Kyo felt his own face flushing— Yuki had a genuine smile because he was still half-asleep, but what the hell?! Something that powerful should be illegal!

"Suzumi-san is amazing," Tohru exclaimed through her blush, eyes sparkling. "She can sing, and she even took some of these photos! I can't imagine her workload, even though Ai-kun and Yuu-kun are a only duo. Ah, but—" she flailed a bit— "but surely managing any number of idols is hard work. Still..." She sighed dreamily, chin resting in her hands. "If I could be her for a day, spending time with such handsome princes..."

Cute, cute, cute!!! Unable to look at her, Kyo looked at Yuki. This was a mistake, because he saw exactly what he was feeling on the other guy's (dumb, pretty) face. And then Yuki looked at him and smiled, just for a second, and what the fu—

Tohru spoke again, stopping him from yelling or doing something else stupid. "Kyo-kun and Yuki-kun would make even more handsome idols, though."

"No way," Kyo said (only a little too loud), in time with Yuki saying, "Absolutely not." Of course that woke him up all the way.

"Dancing is dumb," Kyo continued, "and I don't sing."

"Neither do I," said Yuki.

Liar. Kyo heard him sometimes, when he thought he was alone. He had a nice voice. Would be nicer if he were brave enough to sing fully.

Tohru giggled. Another blush was rising on her face, though. She was staring at something in particular.

He looked closer (he felt Yuki looking with him).

It was one of the candid photos, the duo and their manager all in the shot. They were in casual clothes, carnival plushies in hand. Suzumi-san was laughing, an arm around each of the boys who were both smiling... at her. And standing closer together than might be expected for their pose. Their smiles were almost painfully soft.

Kyo looked up.

Tohru was smiling in a similar way at the photo. Yuki was smiling in a similar way at her.

And Kyo... was in deep trouble. He wasn't entirely sure what kind, but he was definitely in trouble.

For once he wished Shigure was around. He was a pain in the ass but he'd at least be a distraction from... whatever this was.

"Even if it's staged somehow," Tohru said softly to the photo, "they look very happy here."

"They look happy in a lot of them," said Yuki. He'd started blushing.

"Yeah, well." Kyo cleared his throat. "I... need a snack." Mind made up, he stood so fast he nearly hit his knee on the table. He walked quickly.

Not quickly enough to avoid Yuki leaving with him, saying to Tohru, "I need the bathroom."

"Stop copying me," Kyo hissed.

"I'm not," Yuki hissed back, and detoured for the kitchen.

Kyo huffed and went to the bathroom.

Splashing off his still horrifyingly red face, he tried to breathe deeply. He did not like what was happening to him, liked even less that he didn't know what it was (but he did, too scared to let it leave his subconscious). He breathed through images of Tohru's smiling face, of Yuki's soft gaze, thoughts of surprising her with a kiss, of Yuki surprising him with one.

Groaning, he fought down the urge to hit the wall with his head. They were just thoughts... and the more he thought about them, the less scary they became.

Not that he planned to make a habit out of thinking them.

***

As soon as Kyo and Yuki left, Tohru buried her face in the magazine with a tiny scream. She had to get ahold of herself! Words she was nowhere near ready to kept wanting to come out and if she wasn't careful... The boys thought she hadn't noticed their secret smiles and soft looks, and, well, she hadn't, not completely. But she'd felt them, caught glimpses, and that was making it even more difficult to keep those dangerous words held back.

She sighed and looked at the magazine again, flipping back and forth through the cover story. After she saw that one picture she couldn't unsee it, how close the idols and their manager seemed to be. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. She knew even so-called candid shots could be artificial. But...

Even if it wasn't real, even though she couldn't be totally sure what "it" was (but she could hope, oh, she could hope), she wanted whatever connection that trio had to be what she, Kyo and Yuki had.

Emerging from her thoughts, she saw her hand had landed on the famous shot from LIPxLIP's MV for "Non-Fantasy". Ai-kun and Yuu-kun kissing "Hiyoko's" cheeks; Hiyoko dressed in a wedding gown. Tongue between her teeth, she turned the page forcefully. Then she slugged down her lemonade.

We've been in love for decades, for hundreds of years... All the lyrics she could recite by heart, having watched the video more times than she'd ever admit.

"Get it together, get it together," she told herself repeatedly as she got up to get another glass, water this time, with no sign of Kyo.

She'd settled back into her spot and was trying to read the feature article when he returned, box of pocky in hand. Yuki wasn't far behind him. They were both looking much more composed, so Tohru tried to compose herself too.

As they sat down, this time on either side of her, and as Kyo unmuted the TV (which just so happened to be playing one of LIPxLIPs music videos), she said, "I would really like to karaoke LIPxLIP sometime, with you two, maybe. And it's okay if you can't sing! I'm not very good either."

"No, you are good," Kyo mumbled through a mouthful of pocky.

Yuki nodded, looking carefully at the TV rather than her. "And I'm sure Suzumi-san's voice fits your range as well," he said.

She blushed. Of course they'd heard her; she had any number of the duo's songs in her head all the time, and it was so hard to keep their music contained!

"I think..." Yuki grabbed a handful of pocky and nibbled one, eyeing her sideways. "I think you singing Heroine Training Plan would be especially cute."

"O-Oh, no, I..."

Her mouth went dry at how fast Kyo blushed. "Yeah. It would."

A strange little squeal eked out of her; she grabbed her water glass and drank it half down. "I'll practice it a lot, then!!" Clenching her fist in determination stopped any other noises escaping.

It did not stop her from blushing yet again when they both smiled at her, in turn, then turned back to the TV.

She wondered if, secretly, the boys saw themselves in LIPxLIP's place sometimes, like she did. If they saw her in Hiyori's place sometimes, like she did.

"We're attracted to each other like magic," she sang under her breath.

If they ever did go to karaoke, she would ask them.

***

(On one of their rare non-business outings, Hiyori, Aizo and Yujiro all sneezed in quick succession.

"Oi! Cover your mouth!" Yujiro glared at the blond.

"I should be saying that to you!" grumbled Aizo.

Hiyori sneezed again. "It's nothing to worry about. Just the pollen. But all of a sudden...?"

"Yeah. Probably." Another sneeze from Aizo.

"You dummy, you forgot your antihistamine medication again." Yujiro sighed and handed Aizo a pack of tissues, sniffling himself.

"I'm ready to go home, then," said Hiyori. "And getting you a glass of water right awa— oh my gosh, crepes!" She grabbed the boys' hands and pulled them along to the crepe cart. "I want strawberry cream!"

"I'll have chocolate, please," Aizo trilled.

"Ah, yes, the miracle cure," Yujiro said. "Same for me, then."

Now standing in line, Hiyori pushed to her full height in front of them and puffed her cheeks out, poking the boys in their chests. "No way. You two are buying your own for once!"

They pouted.

Yujiro pushed his bouquet toward her. “Does there have to be a reason? I happened to see these and thought of you, that’s all.”

“And I wasn’t about to let this guy one up me,” said Aizo. “Just take them already.”

“Yeah. You’re making this awkward.”

She took Aizo’s bouquet in one hand and Yujiro’s in the other. “You guys,” she mumbled, sniffling. Carefully, she combined the bouquets into one and held them gently to her chest, blinking away happy tears. “Thank you…!”

“We’d did it because we wanted to, so don’t thank us,” Yujiro said, Aizo nodding beside him.

Neither of them would look at her, but the flowers said everything the boys couldn’t.

 “And cut!!”

~~~

“They look even prettier on-screen,” Hiyori says, watching the scene play back on camera. She only has one hand free because she refuses to let go of the flowers, so Aizo is holding it while Yujiro rests a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course they do,” Yujiro says, sounding smug and matter-of-fact at the same time. “Real flowers make all the difference.”

“I can’t wait to see the comments when this episode airs.”

Aizo speaks so flatly that both Hiyori and Yujiro have to look at him. He’s smirking, eyes bright.

Hiyori turns back to the screen, smiling into her flowers. “Me neither.”

~~~

On the way home, Hiyori lets the boys take turns examining the combined bouquet she made. “I know you picked them for their colors,” she says, skipping along between them, “but do you know what they all mean?”

Aizo coughs. “Some flowers have more than one meaning…”

“But we did think about it before we picked them.”

There’s that “we” again, out in the real world instead of only in a script. She wonders if either of them had a hand in writing it.

“Then…” She steps in front of them both, looking up at them— and her breath catches in her throat.

Standing side by side in their comforting everyday clothes, lit by the sunset, holding her flowers; the two of them are so beautiful she almost forgets what she wants to say. She would have, if it weren’t so important. She clasps her hands at her chest and says, “Then I accept. I accept your flowers, and your love, and you! And I love you both very much.”

The boys’ blushes steadily increase, but Aizo’s smiling a small smile, and Yujiro is steadily looking at him.

“And even though you already asked me, I’ve always wanted to say this, so…” She takes a deep breath, rising on her toes, feeling ready to fly and utterly grounded at the same time. “Will you marry me?”

They both squawk; Yujiro flails a bit, clutching her flowers, and Aizo grabs onto him.

“Why are you asking that?!”

“The flowers mean we love you, of course they do, but we—it wasn’t—it’s not a proposal!” Yujiro says, pushing Aizo away like he hadn’t just been about to fall over.

“That’s why I’m proposing!” Inwardly, Hiyori is screaming, but she forges ahead. “Because, I was thinking if that episode were how you two proposed to me, I wouldn’t mind at all. But I also wanted to say it, since the girl never gets a chance to. And so…” She moves to them, plucks one forgot-me-not and one ranunculus from the bouquet, and offers them to Aizo and Yujiro, a tiny echo of the scene they filmed hours before. “Will you accept my proposal?”

Her hands and the flowers they hold are clasped so gently. The boys’ free hands find her cheeks.

She smiles up at them, watches them inhale in tandem, and shuts her eyes.

“I will.”

“I will.”

~~~

“Did you really mean it?” Aizo asks later, gazing up at Hiyori from where he lays sprawled in her lap.

They’re all together on the queen-sized hotel bed, Hiyori pressed up against Yujiro, Aizo absently petting one of Yujiro’s outstretched legs.

Past Hiyori would have flailed and panicked and insisted that of course she did, why was he asking— but Present Hiyori smiles, brushes Aizo’s bangs from his forehead, and says, “More than anything. And I want our ceremony to be something just for us.”

“It would be nice,” Yujiro said, “to get registered in spring. April, maybe. Then we could have whatever ceremony we’d like in May.”

Aizo frowns. “If we got registered… how would we handle our names?”

Hiyori hums, thinking. Of course. That’s a complication.

“I wouldn’t mind having yours,” he says, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek.

“Neither would I,” Yujiro says.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get registered, then,” she says, though she smiles at the thought. “I’ve wanted to start a calligraphy project, so maybe I’ll just make our own registry.”

Yujiro kisses her head. “I really think I’ll be happy with whatever we decide.”

“Me too,” says Aizo after a moment. “Really.”

Hiyori holds Aizo’s hand to her cheek, leans back into Yujiro, and says, “I have so many ideas.”