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How (not) to be tactful

Summary:

The Party of Words is holding special exhibition matches and Kuuko doesn't know when to shut up.
(or Hitoya is going bald, Samatoki is ready to pop a vein and Sasara won a bet)

Notes:

had this collecting dust since august but decided to finish it, thanks rhyme anima for canonizing these dumbasses saying questionable shit to each other during matches...?

anyway ! hope u can enjoy it even tho the target audience is literally one of my friends and myself lmao
(this is technically a song fic)

Work Text:

Kuuko openly grimaced in an attempt to stop himself from yawning as they waited for the exhibition match to start. The lawyer next to him huffed, putting out his cigarette with his right foot, he nudged him with his arm.

“At least try to pretend you're into this battle.”

“Hah? This exhibition shit is no battle.”

Unimpressed, Hitoya stared at the redhead with a raised eyebrow. Bored out of his mind with the current situation, Kuuko rolled his eyes, and searched for a cluster of primary colors in the public. He’d rather be with… ah, there they were. Amber eyes focused on the distant blotch of red and blue, his smile slowly turning into a grin even though he doubted Ichiro could see his expression from so far away. His heart raced, remembering that they were currently staying in a hotel for the week-long duration of the “exhibition matches”. The government had kindly invited all the division representatives to participate in special entertainment matches, with no repercussions on either their territories or the real rap battles. Of course, they were not allowed to deny the invitation. A boisterous woman had informed them that they were there for “their amusement, not to voice out their opinions” . But whatever, really, this was a perfect chance to meet up with his best friend and no one would bat an eye—

“Are you nervous…?”

Jyushi’s meek voice stopped his train of thought, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why would I be? Who do ya’ th—”

Hugging his stuffed pig tighter, the taller teen jumped a bit at the rise of his voice, ugh he was still so skittish. The monk held back his retort when he saw Jyushi frantically searching for something in the pockets of his gaudy jacket.

“I… do you want bubble gum? I mean… you usually chew some during the day, but you were licking your lips, so I thought that maybe you ran out of gum? but I just happened to buy you some in case you needed something to chew on and I think this is your favorite flavor I hope it is it’s strawb—”

Kuuko, and he noted that Hitoya too, snorted a bit at how the teen increased the speed of his mutterings as he explained himself. One visible eye blinked rapidly, face flushed because his team mates were looking amusedly at him.

“Hahaha! So ya’ noticed! I love strawberry flavored gum, gimme some Jyushi.”

He grinned at the other, realizing that the oddball was getting better at interacting spontaneously with others, he was glad. He popped the gum on his mouth, inwardly thinking that he was actually craving another type of strawberries. The older man next to him sighed and patted Jyushi on the back. 

“Heeya shortass!!”

Popping the pink bubble, the monk tipped his chin up to acknowledge the leader of Dotsuitare Hompo. He hid his hands in his jacket's pockets. 

“Yo, lame jokes.”

They snickered as the rest of the Osaka representatives went up the stage, the referee trailing behind them. Fucking finally . The stadium suddenly exploded in cheers and screams, making him recoil a bit at the shrill sounds. As the referee and the DJ got the show going, the monk couldn’t help himself from squinting his eyes at the gaudy man on the other side of the scenario, mismatched eyes sizing him up amusedly behind black shades. Kuuko spit the gum on the floor, of course he knew who this conman was. Ichiro had told him, but it was a wonder how nobody seemed to question how this man oddly resembled the Ikebukuro siblings. As the referee reviewed the rules one last time for the public, Rei scooted over near his team mates to make a snide remark with a shit eating grin. A strangled noise left the Visual Kei fan behind him, and the redhead felt a hand firmly grasp the back of his jacket to stop him.

“Hey! Focus, the battle is starting, don’t do anything stupid ‘cause I won’t bail you out asshole!”

“Don’t let it- Heh, by no means shall empty and mocking whispers—

Materializing their mics, Kuuko felt a bothersome heat spread down his nape, a snarl on his face. Fuck Sasara and what's-his-name, his target was the piece of shit father.

The flip of the referee's coin signaled that the battle was about to start. The coin showed Bad Ass Temple’s logo, palpable electricity and tension filled the air until the air horn went off. Enraged, the redhead loosened the collar of his clothes in a failed attempt at cooling off a bit. 

 

Ah. Fuck it.

 

“Yo! Imma dragon, not a strap on! The fuck ya’ on? 

The only keychain I own: the one to ya’ son’s home, 

Better shut ya’ trap, ya’ all bark no bite, I’ll beat ya’ up hag,

Kick ya’ down just like I dick ya’ son down! RRRA!”

With a final snarl Kuuko mocked Rei, who had lost his tacky fur coat with the blow of his lyrics. Only the first verse, and the leader of Nagoya already felt the elation of triumph at the poorly hidden irritation that showed on Amayado ’s face. His rational side still hadn’t caught up but Jyushi was up next and—

Ha! Effectively, it is our graciously bewitching liege who dicks your son — huh…? HUH?! KUUKO?... SON ?!”

 

Shit. 

 

The thumping of his heartbeat was loud enough to feel deafening in the silence that followed his attack against the conman. The audience was frantically looking among themselves, everyone at the scenario looked confused, he caught a glimpse of Sasara’s foxy smile...huh? Cold sweat ran down his spine, his gut coiling, Ichiro was going to kill him. Or worse, tell him to fuck off, no kisses, no cuddles, no fucking until he stopped being angry. They were supposed to keep this a secret. It was as if time had stopped, everyone ready to jump at the slightest sound. Chewing on his lower lip, he felt a tiny bit of relief that he hadn’t given out any personal information. Not everything was lost yet, he cursed himself, everything that had to do with his boyfriend always riled him up. He should learn to get a grip, he was a mon—

An extremely familiar, extremely enraged , disbelieving scream sliced through the silence as if it was the sharpest knife known to men. 

“PIECE OF SHIT!! SO YOU’RE THE BRAT WHO’S BEEN FUCKIN’ ICHIRO? I’LL KILL Y—”

 

It was chaos. 

 

The stadium erupted into pure, apocalyptic chaos as Kuuko proudly smirked at Samatoki, who was currently choking on a cigarette as his militar team mate tried to help him— survival style . He knew it was kinda shitty of him, but he couldn’t help the rush of overconfident adrenaline that ran through his veins at the thought of finally one upping the yakuza. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the cop trying to help Riou hold back their murderous leader from illegally entering the exhibition match, and a hysterical Sasara mocking his… former? best friend, asking him to “ pay up, I won the bet!! I told you the brats touched dicks!”. 

As a monk, he knew that pride was awfully deceiving, it intoxicated human souls. But fuck if he was going to miss his chance to continue rubbing salt on an open wound, repentment and elightment could wait. The redhead did the Buster Bros!!! hand sign with his left hand, and steadily raised it up near his face. He stuck out his tongue in the most obscene way, his piercing shining with the stadium’s lights, and slowly licked the space left between his index finger and thumb. Crudely illustrating that yes, he ate ass. Specifically, MC.BB’s ass. A self satisfied smirk made its way to his face as Samatoki’s already flushed face now looked ready to pop at least five veins, his three friends and the referee trying their best to hold him down. Hitoya's sudden smack on his head hurt, but he guessed he had it coming as more referees and assistants entered the stage to cancel the match and to try to calm down the audience. And Samatoki. 

Kuuko gave one last shit eating grin to the struggling yakuza, who accidentally elbowed the cop on the face, and flipped off a begrudgingly amused Rei. He crossed his arms behind his head and was about to ask a rather perplexed Jyushi for more gum, when the smoke filled exhale of a recently lit cigarette caught his attention. Taking another drag as one of his eyebrows almost touched his pomp, Hitoya decided to drop the real bomb. 

"I hope your not-so-secret boyfriend cuts off your dick so you learn how to think with your actual head. Let's go Jyushi."

"Kuuko was this? Is this why you di—didn't  go to my show? I thought… I thought you were busy!!" 

“Don't cry Jyushi, he was probably busy for real that one time. Let's go get something to eat. I feel like I'm going to lose hair, and there are two things in life I cannot stand: thinking that I might be balding from stress and depraved monks."

"Attention! The exhibition match is canceled due to unfortunate events. Please remain calm and slowly exit the stadium." 

He thought he heard Sasara's partner mutter a half-hearted "yeah fine, let's go get the murderous yakuza intoxicated" and a "this is why schools should improve sexual education talks to horny brats" under his breath as he massaged his temple. 

Fuck. 

 

————

Ichiro thanked whatever God decided to take pity on him. It was most likely one that was sick of a particular monk in his life. His face felt like it was about to combust and catch fire any second now, it was a relief that the competing teams were separated from the regular public, because the attention he was getting and why was mortifying. But of course, it was a double edged gift, as the attention he was getting from the other divisions was enough to rival all the women screaming for varying reasons. In an attempt to maintain some dignity, he put on the hood of his white pullover, if it had had adjusting strings he would have closed the hood to hide his face. Forever. 

“Gyaaaaahaha! C'mon Ichiwo don't hide your face! The big sisters watchin' the live streamin' want to see your cute  pouting face Ichirooo. C'mon, c'mon!! Pwease look at my phone's camera." 

" Amemura. Stop making the situation worse with your poor sense of entertainment, enough of live streaming this. Doppo please tell Hifumi to stop whistling, your veins look rather prone to popping."

"Doppochin! Loosen your tie!! Gossip as entertainin' as this comes once in a blue moon at the host club! Ichiro why dontcha try out ya' luck at bein' a hos—" 

If his jaw locked because of how hard he was clenching it, he would bite the redhead's dick off first thing after a surgery unlocked it. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating, but he had a reputation to maintain for fucks sake! No amount of makeup sex or heartfelt apologies could ever make up for this, he wasn't even that embarrased, but it would be such a pain in the ass to deal with the aftermath if the current chaos created by the rest of the teams was anything to go by. Ichiro sighed, trying to expell all the tension on his body before he took off his hood. He should have expected that the first person up his face would be a slightly pale and panicked Jiro. 

"Niichan he's a monk!! What if you go to hell for that!?“ 

"Don't be stupid Jiro! We gotta figure out how we're gonna make that bastard pay for doing this to Ichinii!“

OH. My god!? Saburo … that's why the grocery shoppin' duties were now our respon—“

“Shut up! Shut up!! Shut up!!! I don't wanna picture Ichinii and—" 

"OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU!" 

His aggravated expression and tone of voice only worsened when a new round of giggles and whistles were heard from Ramuda and Izanami. He pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly dragged his hand down his face. He did not want to deal with this anymore. 

"Jiro! Saburo!! We're gettin' back to the hotel. Not a single word or there won't be any dinner tonight!" 

They replied a rushed "yes!“ in unison and scrambled to get to their feet and follow him back to their hotel rooms. He prayed to whatever God dared to listen that he wouldn't bump into the monk or worse. As he got out of the elevator with his uncharacteristically deadly quiet brothers in tow, the universe made it painfully clear that no divine entity wanted to listen to his prayers. On a heartbeat, Jiro and Saburo were in front of him, shielding him like a wall from someone way shorter than them. 

Ugh. Better act quick. 

"Not. A single. Word. Or I'll take away pizza nights and the anime streamin' sites subscriptions. Gotcha? Go to your hotel rooms, we'll talk back in 'bukuro."

Two pairs of mismatched eyes looked back at him in alarm, ready to retort, but just when Jiro was about to blurt whatever was on his mind, Saburo decided to elbow him in the ribs to stop him. The three of them shared looks of varying levels of exasperation and raised eyebrows, until the two younger ones decided to accept their curfew and started walking towards their respective rooms at the end of the corridor. Not before comically sneering at an unexpectedly quiet redhead who wasn't even looking at their exchange. Before they could start scheming, especially the youngest one, Ichiro used his best MC.B.B. voice—the one that demanded utter respect and obedience. Guiltily, he knew it was kind of a low blow, but he had to make sure they wouldn't walk on something they definitely didn't want to see. 

“No comin' out of your rooms until tomorrow mornin'. Don't follow me, g'night."

Brushing his bangs back and out from his face with his right hand as he sighed, he let his other hand rest on his hip. One, two slow blinks, and Ichiro still couldn't bring himself to start the dreaded conversation. There were so many emotions he wanted to keep in check, as the past had proved to him that nothing good came out of screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. And yet…

"Well, at least now everybody knows about ya' old man, maybe the public eye will pressure him into finally paying child su—" 

And yet Kuuko still managed to spurt obtuse shit like this. It seemed that the Gods really made testing Ichiro's patience a sport today. Quickly stepping forward to shorten their distance, the tallest one grabbed the other's jacket collar to pull him closer. Ichiro made sure to give the monk a warning look so the other didn't try to squirm away, and bent down a bit to speak next to his ear. 

"We'll sort this out later, but don't ya' ever pull this shit on me again Kuuko! Do ya' hear me?" 

"Ya' really aren't mad, are ya'? This is just for show, huh?" 

Ichiro couldn't see his face, but he was sure that the redhead was sporting his usual cocky grin, even though he could practically feel the underlying doubt that tinted his self assured words. He grumbled a "c'mon" as he nibbled on the pierced ear, tugging Kuuko backwards toward his hotel room. 

Once inside the room, Ichiro kicked the door to close it, just for the dramatic effect it had—and to set the mood a bit, the hotel belonged to the Party of Words anyway so any collateral damage was a bonus in his opinion. Before his boyfriend could react, he cornered him against the wall using the inches he had over him to his advantage, rejoicing internally as he knew how adverse the monk was to being dragged around like an accessory; a keychain due to their heights. A mocking snarl left Kuuko, but a pair of lips quickly swallowed his incoming words, pressing him against the wall more insistently. Nimble fingers with painted nails hooked around the belt loops of the jeans in front of him, but this action caused the kiss to end with Ichiro dragging his teeth on his lower lip. 

"No," Hands slowly caressed short red hair, only to tug at it to make Kuuko look up to him, his chin tilting upwards. "I get to say what we're gonna do." he stated as he bent down to latch his mouth on the other's jaw. 

"Fine by me— Hey! Watch the marks, asshole." 

Ichiro rolled his eyes and bit harder, what a hypocrite. 

"You left nothing to the imagination with the stunt ya' pulled! It's only fair that you look messy when the cameras get us tomorrow. Can't believe the shit you said! That's private!!“

"Technically, I didn't say that I ate y—“

The monk hissed at the sharp tug on his scalp, firmly tugging the other closer by the belt loops to keep his hands from wandering, willing to play the game, his hips jerking forward. 

"You're not— ugh, shut it. On your knees, now." 

Kuuko whistled, a shit eating grin on his face as he grabbed the other's ass to make a show out of sliding down Ichiro's body, catching the first zipper of the white pullover with his teeth to drag it down. He intended to do the same with the blue jeans' zipper, but instead he mouthed against the bulge as his hands squeezed behind. 

"Huh, bossy. Whatcha gonna make me do? Wanna reenact what I did to my hand?" 

Ichiro's hands tugged the grabby hands out of his butt, face flustered out of aggravation and embarrassment. Maybe turned on as well, this mix of emotions was nothing out of the ordinary though, his best friend slash boyfriend always managed to make his pulse sky rocket out of the ceiling. 

"Why are you so horny, aren't you a monk? I should spray you with cold water to mimic the cleansing effects of a waterfall, or whatever it's supposed to do..." He mumbled as he rubbed his thumb over the redhead's bruised lips, idly thinking about the pierced tongue. Unfortunately, he jolted when a red-faced Kuuko suddenly grabbed his wrist to lick across the palm of his hand. His gut clenched at the feel of the steel ball dragging against his skin. 

"So ya' wanna fuck in the shower, Ichiro? C'mon don't keep me waitin' Ichiro ."

"Stop rolling my name, it's not gettin' you anywhere dumbass! 

He meant to act sternly a while longer, but both of them burst out laughing at how flustered they were and took a seat on the carpeted floor. The situation was so ridiculous and tiring, and honestly? Ichiro didn't want to think about tomorrow, the press, his friends and family any longer. For now. For now… he just wanted to enjoy the privacy the hotel room provided for them, in a sense anyway, as the cat was already out of the bag. But the sentiment was still there. Kuuko huffed, his hand brushing part of Ichiro's bangs behind his ear, the fleeting thought of gifting him new earrings to boast even further the fact that they were together came to him and went by, with the very same hand he ruffled where his hair was previously tugged out of awkwardness—his face must match his hair by now, he mussed. 

"Ichiro, uh, I'm sorry. I really didn't meant to, even though maybe I did, but ya' old m—" 

"But ya' think with your other head first, yeah? Yeah, look— I said we would, and we will, talk. But for now," Mismatched eyes stared intently at the other as he surged forward, to playfully bite one flustered cheek and push him backwards into the carpet, straddling his hips and intertwining their hands so he could bring them above red hair to pin them there. "You gotta make it up to me, so you better start beggin' Kuuko. Beg me to let you touch me… beg me to let you come, I might even let you fuck me." He grounded his groin against the others' own as he talked, and the monk responded by grinding his hips up to meet the other's movements in order to get as much friction as possible, a slow and hard pace was set between them and their still clothed hard-ons. The forming stains on their underwear be damned. 

Underneath Ichiro, Kuuko groaned but didn't even try to tug his hands free, the glassy look beneath ruby and beryl was known to him and he would let his boyfriend drag this out as much as he wanted, if only to repent a bit. "Ya' know I would quit being a monk to only pray and beg for ya' ass Ichiro. To be able to worship, caress and kiss ya' entire self I would do anythin'." 

He got teeth tugging at his ear and a knee to his dick as a reply. 

———

Inside a sketchy bar inside Chuuoku, there were men running the store's alcohol supply short as they screamed and cursed at each other and about people not present at the moment, getting more handsy as the hours tickled by.