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HOW MANY TIMES CAN A WOODCHUCK UPDATE IN ONE DAY
Cat's Eye
Summary: Not just a pretty face. Okada, still stuck in existential Johnny's angst while shooting Kisarazu, pours out his soul soul -- Sho helps. Sorta.
It's a good thing, whether or not they'll say it to him directly, that he has a pretty face. Crude as it may be and superficial as it is, it's a crude and superficial world Okada lives in. It's easy to forget, sometimes, because Johnny has it right - he's smart enough to dissolve rivalry with camaraderie, far thinking enough to have long ago diluted ego with the rank and file of seniority within the jimusho itself.
But, more than the others, Okada sees the fraying edges where it goes sour: those who leave and never come back, or those who never leave but never come on. What he knows he learnt in too little time spread over too little space. Fourteen years old and foreign to the cameras that had trailed every his fellow group members' all of their lives, Okada Junichi is fortune, (really fucking fortunate, he points out while drunk and slipping into Kansai-ben) that he's got a pretty face.
Sho pats him on the back and gently pushes away the drink Okada's reaching for. 'Well,' he says, propping Okada up and paying the tab. 'At least it wasn't Hawaii, for you.'
This makes Okada pause in his silent self-remonstration (losing control is a bad idea, bad idea, makes him turn into Ken, or, god forbid, Innochi). 'Hawaii?' he slurs, not quite drunk but not quite sober, squinting at Sho in the bad light.
'That's where Arashi debuted.' Sho slids Okada into the passenger seat of his car. 'Riidaa got put on a plane and the next thing he knew he was singing A RA SHI on a boat in the middle of nowhere.'
Okada blinks. 'Ohno-kun,' he decides, 'was really unlucky.' He consults the roof of the car. 'Have you ever thought of leaving?' he asks, sudden.
'Yes,' Sho admits, stepping on the pedal and driving them back to the actors' rooms for Cat's Eye. 'And then, afterwards, no.'
Okada covers his face with his hands, and exhales loud and long and tired. 'I think I'm finally learning.'
'Learning what?'
'How to have fun.'
-------
Roadtrip
Summary: 'MUSIC FOR THE PEOPLE--'
Undertones of Okada/Go; thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ames_909 for helping me along in my journey to senpai hell heaven. 8D.
'Driving's very difficult,' Sakamoto says very conversationally. Casually, even.
Nagano nods from the passenger's seat. 'Mmhmm.' He turns a page of the map book, though whether or not he's actually reading it is questionable.
'Hard on the eyes after a while,' Sakamoto continues as they go past the fourteenth empty field in the last three hours. They're somewhere in Japan. Probably. Nagano's not usually wrong. Usually. 'Sunlight gets into the eyes.'
'Wear your sunglasses,' Nagano recommends, reaching into the seat compartment, taking them out and passing them over, never once stopping in his attempt at tracing the major highways of Japan with only his eyes.
Sakamoto taps the steering wheel. A scream (Ken) and a laugh (Go) and a giggle (Inocchi) reverberate off the doors of the 20 year old metal wreck they're driving. He's driving. 'Inohara,' he raises his voice, looking in the rear view. 'Urusai yo.'
'MUSIC FOR THE PEOPLE-'
Sakamoto taps the steering wheel again. 'There's a rest stop coming up soon,' he says, voice dipping into what might have been a wheedle, if anyone had actually bothered to to listen.
'I want to eat ice cream,' Morita pipes up from the back.
'Watermelon?' Ken asks.
'Lemon.'
'Aah, lemon's good.'
'No, no, Ken-chan --'
Okada, at the very least, is silent, albeit passive in his usual, sadistic way.
They make him pay for the ices, naturally. Claiming all the while that "staff-san" would refund him, oh yes they would, I want two. If he gets two, I want two as well.
Sometimes interviews ask him why a thirty-five-odd man doesn't want children. Sakamoto is always tempted to reply that he has more than enough already, thankyouverymuch. Emerging from the toilet (marginally) refreshed and with his face washed, he puts on the brightest smile he can muster after 200 kilometres and 4 hours in the same vehicle with a human zoo and says, 'Jyankenpon for the next driver, yes? Jyanken. Jyanken.'
For some bizarre reason, everyone puts down rock; as if it had all been plann--
'You know,' Sakamoto says conversationally to the dashboard of the car as Okada's low voice suddenly hitches and goes sharp. (Ice cream. Okada. Go. Ice cream. Okada. Go. Nagano's hand is somehow conveniently in the way of the CCD camera they've attached to the front of the car.) 'At least there's only fifty more kilometres to go.'
'Aaaa--aaaaaa ah!'
'A very long fifty kilometres, maybe.'
Summary: Not just a pretty face. Okada, still stuck in existential Johnny's angst while shooting Kisarazu, pours out his soul soul -- Sho helps. Sorta.
It's a good thing, whether or not they'll say it to him directly, that he has a pretty face. Crude as it may be and superficial as it is, it's a crude and superficial world Okada lives in. It's easy to forget, sometimes, because Johnny has it right - he's smart enough to dissolve rivalry with camaraderie, far thinking enough to have long ago diluted ego with the rank and file of seniority within the jimusho itself.
But, more than the others, Okada sees the fraying edges where it goes sour: those who leave and never come back, or those who never leave but never come on. What he knows he learnt in too little time spread over too little space. Fourteen years old and foreign to the cameras that had trailed every his fellow group members' all of their lives, Okada Junichi is fortune, (really fucking fortunate, he points out while drunk and slipping into Kansai-ben) that he's got a pretty face.
Sho pats him on the back and gently pushes away the drink Okada's reaching for. 'Well,' he says, propping Okada up and paying the tab. 'At least it wasn't Hawaii, for you.'
This makes Okada pause in his silent self-remonstration (losing control is a bad idea, bad idea, makes him turn into Ken, or, god forbid, Innochi). 'Hawaii?' he slurs, not quite drunk but not quite sober, squinting at Sho in the bad light.
'That's where Arashi debuted.' Sho slids Okada into the passenger seat of his car. 'Riidaa got put on a plane and the next thing he knew he was singing A RA SHI on a boat in the middle of nowhere.'
Okada blinks. 'Ohno-kun,' he decides, 'was really unlucky.' He consults the roof of the car. 'Have you ever thought of leaving?' he asks, sudden.
'Yes,' Sho admits, stepping on the pedal and driving them back to the actors' rooms for Cat's Eye. 'And then, afterwards, no.'
Okada covers his face with his hands, and exhales loud and long and tired. 'I think I'm finally learning.'
'Learning what?'
'How to have fun.'
-------
Roadtrip
Summary: 'MUSIC FOR THE PEOPLE--'
Undertones of Okada/Go; thank you to
ames_909 for helping me along in my journey to senpai 'Driving's very difficult,' Sakamoto says very conversationally. Casually, even.
Nagano nods from the passenger's seat. 'Mmhmm.' He turns a page of the map book, though whether or not he's actually reading it is questionable.
'Hard on the eyes after a while,' Sakamoto continues as they go past the fourteenth empty field in the last three hours. They're somewhere in Japan. Probably. Nagano's not usually wrong. Usually. 'Sunlight gets into the eyes.'
'Wear your sunglasses,' Nagano recommends, reaching into the seat compartment, taking them out and passing them over, never once stopping in his attempt at tracing the major highways of Japan with only his eyes.
Sakamoto taps the steering wheel. A scream (Ken) and a laugh (Go) and a giggle (Inocchi) reverberate off the doors of the 20 year old metal wreck they're driving. He's driving. 'Inohara,' he raises his voice, looking in the rear view. 'Urusai yo.'
'MUSIC FOR THE PEOPLE-'
Sakamoto taps the steering wheel again. 'There's a rest stop coming up soon,' he says, voice dipping into what might have been a wheedle, if anyone had actually bothered to to listen.
'I want to eat ice cream,' Morita pipes up from the back.
'Watermelon?' Ken asks.
'Lemon.'
'Aah, lemon's good.'
'No, no, Ken-chan --'
Okada, at the very least, is silent, albeit passive in his usual, sadistic way.
They make him pay for the ices, naturally. Claiming all the while that "staff-san" would refund him, oh yes they would, I want two. If he gets two, I want two as well.
Sometimes interviews ask him why a thirty-five-odd man doesn't want children. Sakamoto is always tempted to reply that he has more than enough already, thankyouverymuch. Emerging from the toilet (marginally) refreshed and with his face washed, he puts on the brightest smile he can muster after 200 kilometres and 4 hours in the same vehicle with a human zoo and says, 'Jyankenpon for the next driver, yes? Jyanken. Jyanken.'
For some bizarre reason, everyone puts down rock; as if it had all been plann--
'You know,' Sakamoto says conversationally to the dashboard of the car as Okada's low voice suddenly hitches and goes sharp. (Ice cream. Okada. Go. Ice cream. Okada. Go. Nagano's hand is somehow conveniently in the way of the CCD camera they've attached to the front of the car.) 'At least there's only fifty more kilometres to go.'
'Aaaa--aaaaaa ah!'
'A very long fifty kilometres, maybe.'
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I BELIEVE THE ANSWER IS 982734923 TIMES, FINAL ANSWER. >D
alskjdf;as omg road trip. ROAD TRIP. I love you Sakamoto please never stop driving ;o; ♥
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BE CONVERTED TO THE HOLY JEWATCH OKADA AND V6 AND TACKEY AND TSUBASA AND AND AND AND AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.Gakkou e Ikou. It is clearly, clearly all GeI's fault. Even the acronym is gay.
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...it's sad because it's true.no subject
WHO FLYING HUMPS NAGASE AT MACH SPEED ON NATIONAL BROADCASTAND THE ENTIRE, INSANE, BEAUTIFUL V6 CREW, WHO DON'T SEEM TO MIND HALF KILLING EACH OTHER ON DANCING PLATFORMS. \o/It's beautiful, though. So beautiful.no subject
Hoping there will be more V6 roadtrip fictions.
Because i always always always love it when Sakamoto became the victim of... everything.
Will add you as a friend.
Makes it easier for me to stalk your fics!