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[drabbles] small bites
Ficbits (all ratings), because I got pwned in the face by the "quote me my own fic" meme etc. Never doing that one again I may just be masochistic enough. These have been sitting around for so long, I needed to get them out of my system so I could write something new T_T
junno/kame - something in the way he moves/g
Something in the way he moves; somewhere in his smile he knows: love is a dangerous, whimsical thing to play with, but yet he's still here.
The bed is warm and it dips and rolls as he moves to get out of bed to make that fresh cup of coffee for the pounding in Kame's head that he knows will descend in approximately ten minutes from the moment Kame drags the back of his hand over his eyes.
"Morning," Kame's voice is old, unsticking his tongue and lips with soft clicks.
Maybe he sees Junno nodding, maybe he doesn't. Kame rubs harder at his gummed eyes. He manages to catch the last of Junno's smile, glowing brighter than the morning as he slips through the door to the kitchen.
Life like this doesn't last forever, and Junno knows. His body hums with it. To Kame, it is open and warm, as if it is comfortable just to be existing, only wanting to be here and not anywhere else. Junno pushes it to a limit in a different way from Kame - muscles cracked like whips, alive in the moment he arcs over backwards in a elegant flip.
Kame, he just sees how long his body can last, encouraging it, sometimes bargaining with it. If you get me through the week, I'll let you sleep for five more hours on my next day off. Sometimes, Kame is not all that nice to it. But it's okay now, because Junno lets him sleep, oh, maybe say, five more minutes every morning, and it's just enough.
jin/yamapi - lactose intolerant/g
Jin nearly spits in Yamapi's face when he realizes it's soy milk. Being the best best friend ever, he swallows instead, a twisted look of disgust evident on his face. Yamapi doesn't seem to notice.
"What is this?" Jin stares down at the green drink carton. The straw is a hideous shade of pink.
"Soy milk." Yamapi remains oblivious to Jin's disapproving vibes, and continues to type at his computer.
"It's bad."
"You'll get used to it."
"Don't want to, actually."
"They have it in green tea flavour," Yamapi says, sucking hard at his carton. The glossy sides hollow as there is a jarring sound and Yamapi rips up the last of the milk through the thin straw.
"Ewwwwww," Jin wrinkles his nose. Yamapi flings his empty carton and it bops Jin on the head. "Ouch!"
"I'm lactose-intolerant."
"What. Why?!"
"Are you an idiot?"
"You really are an alien. Shit, that means Ryo was right." Jin takes out his phone and begins texting.
Yamapi rises out of his chair with a screech and leaps at Jin.
jin/yamapi - cravings/pg-13
When Yamapi bites his ear a bit too hard, Jin almost punches him, but he slaps his shoulder instead.
"What." Yamapi looks at him, petulant. They are sprawled across the couch in Jin's living room. "I'm hungry."
"Then go get something to eat," Jin says, slightly annoyed. The couch is warm and comfortable behind his back, and Yamapi is sprawled on top of him. They were watching a movie. Were.
"Don't want to move," Yamapi mutters darkly. Jin cocks an eyebrow.
"I'll cook pasta." Yamapi's face brightens up so quickly Jin is reminded of how bright and sparkly the lights in Disneyland are.
"Only if you make yourself useful," Jin grabs Yamapi by the hair and shoves him downwards. He doesn't even mind the bit of teeth Yamapi uses on him while growling angrily because Jin's a kinky bastard, and Yamapi really does give the best fucking blowjobs when he's desperately hungry.
kame/nakamaru - comfort/g
Kame can't place the smell of Nakamaru's cologne. His nose is slightly stuffed. Nakamaru reaches up awkwardly to pet his hair, elbows knocking against a canister of hairspray on the edge of side table. Kame pulls his legs closer to his body, feeling the leathery slide of the upholstery against his skin, warm and soothing. Nakamaru pulls fingers through the ends of Kame's hair absentmindedly, still awkward, but Kame tangles their fingers together when he reaches up out of habit to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Nakamaru almost pulls away, the abrupt tensing of his muscles obvious to Kame, who has his head in Maru's lap, but he stops when Kame quickly apologizes for the touch.
"It's okay," Nakamaru says with an even voice.
(jin/)yamapi - touch/nc-17
Yamapi wakes up with a start when he feels a touch in the groove between his collarbones. Jerking up with a start, he almost forgets where he is, and Yamapi had been taking a nap in one of the quieter dressing rooms. He blinks and uncurls, realizing it had been his own hand across his chest that had slipped under his jacket. Just the slide of a warm thumb across skin had given him goosepimples. Yamapi didn't think it would have been so arousing, he thought touching himself would be like trying to tickle himself, except you know, not true when its masturbation. But it has been a while since a touch made him feel this way. Not that he didn't have time for a quick handjob in the shower, but the entire energy of the thing is different.
Yamapi briefly remembers the dream he was having before he woke up. He feels a ghost tap on his chin, and knows it was about his solo at yesterday's concert. Yamapi's dance choreography is always sexy, although his choreographer always makes him emphasize the sensual.
Eyes closed, Yamapi tilts his head back and slides his hand down his front of his shirt, the soft shuffle of the cotton material scratches at his nerves as he winds his fingers down. He lets them wander, unpracticed but natural. He lets them catch awkwardly on the ridges of his rumpled shirt, trails them along the line of his jeans; and he thinks of kisses. A press of thumb - soft lips; nails - a bit of teeth. Yamapi pretends his hands are not his own - a fleeting thought passes through his mind that maybe, they could belong to Jin. Yamapi doesn't want to think too hard about that at the moment, because the potential for awkwardness strikes an irrational fear in him and he doesn't want to deal with it, yet. Besides, his got his fly open and finally a hand - a mouth on his cock.
Yamapi plays and teases, he knows what he likes, but he doesn't want it to be over too fast. His other hand has slipped up to his neck and he's drawing heavy lines now, a hard pressure that starts from the dip between his jaw and ear, dragging them across the jagged line of his throat. He curls nails into the sensitive skin across the knobs of bone and gasps at the shock, letting slip a moan when the hand around his cock reflexively tightens.
The music is in his head is fast but smooth as he pulls himself out, a lazy warm energy pooling in his gut. Yamapi rolls his hips up into his hand, the tension in his muscles edging towards the breaking point as his movement stutters - fucking tease, as the mouth - Jin's mouth pulls back, he's the one in control. Yamapi squeezes his eyes shut tighter, as if it would keep those eyes on him, anything to keep his attention - his affection. The red hues of the evening sun glowing through the back of his eyelids bring him back onto the stage for the last chorus of the performance, water rising around him with a rush of air in his ears - his breathing, loud and rough in the empty dressing room as he comes, the stolen kiss on his lips - the hard press of his palm against them to silence his cry, perhaps, a name.
yasu/yoko - blond/nc-17
Yoko knows Yasu dyed his hair blond just for him, but he didn't think it would have this effect on him.
Well, he has always known he had a thing for Yasu being blond, Yasu having curls, and Yasu staring out from under those girly long bangs with the hugest, most watery eyes Yoko has ever seen. Well, fuck.
Yasu doesn't seem surprised when Yoko invites him over for dinner. Subaru raises a pleased eyebrow and smacks Maru in the arse, hissing "pay up!" at their bassist. Maru yelps and shoots a grateful grin in Yoko's direction.
Yoko stutters his words a little but Yasu doesn't reject him. The sharp relief spikes his adrenaline, and there's an impatient buzzing in the ear that follows him all the way from the Chinese take-out store across the street from the jimusho to the steps outside his apartment.
It's not that hard a decision, but the moment they set the food down on the table Yoko scoots around behind Yasu and threads his hands into the shorter mans hair, nuzzling downward into the groove of his neck. The curls are soft in his hand and smell the way Yasu always smells, strong and musky.
"Yasu," Yoko mutters against slightly sweaty skin.
"I'm happy," Yasu starts, but the end of his words drag out into a satisfied sigh as Yoko tugs his head back gently with fingers curled into his scalp.
"Happy what?" Yoko is gently sucking at the skin of Yasu's throat, now holding Yasu's head to the side with one hand in his hair, the other hand busy hitching up the hem of his shirt. It registers vaguely that this is one of those happy shirts Yoko gave to Yasu, with bold prints of flowers all over it.
"Yokocho - " The younger writhes a little and presses back against Yoko, who clicks his tongue in annoyance.
"What, Yasu, what is it." He drops his hand from Yasu's abdomen, fingertips lightly skimming the front of the other man's demin jeans, and brings it back up to the other side of Yasu's head.
Yasu practically hums in pleasure when Yoko threads his fingers tighter, curling against the side of his temple.
"I'm happy Yokocho likes it," and despite Yoko's firm grip in his hair, Yasu gives a belligerent roll of his hips against him, nearly throwing them both off balance. "Aren't you hungry?"
He avoids the question by leaning over to kiss Yasu's mouth upside down, the angle a bit awkward and clashing. But Yasu twists in his grasp - obviously Yoko's too nice to try and yank Yasu's beautiful hair off, but it must have been at least a little bit painful? - tilting his head and shoulders sideways and eventually coming face to face with Yoko.
Then Yoko realizes Yasu's got him pinned against the hallway leading towards the bedroom with the weight of his body, doesn't know when it happened but he knows that dinner can wait when Yasu's willing to do body rolls against him like that. He can feel the ripple of muscles through the thin cotton of their shirts and the cold of the wall behind his back as Yasu's strength forces him into the unyielding surface.
"You're welcome?" Yoko gasps breathily against Yasu's forehead, they are practically thrusting against each other now, if they don't get into the bedroom fast Yoko may or may not come in his pants and that would be a bitch to clean. Yasu has slipped a knee between Yoko's thighs, and his fingers catching on the ridges of the older man's spine as they work his shirt over his head. Yoko still has hands in Yasu's hair, twirling strands at random, dropping it, catching on another, tugging when he wants sounds out of Yasu, creating a mess but he thinks the other man looks even more wonderful with messed up, curly and blond hair anyway. Besides, it would be fun to brush out in the morning, and Yoko never minds doing things like that.
"You could show some appreciation," Yasu smile-smirks as he flings Yoko's shirt aside and draws his own - happy shirt - off with a perfect swipe. Cool air comes between their heated bodies for a brief moment before Yasu practically steps into Yoko and grabs his hips.
"Oh," Yoko says, only wanting to roll his eyes a little bit, but is very much willing as he dips down for another kiss, this time a bit slower and more indulgent. He lets Yasu take the direction, guiding the kiss and the both of them into his own bedroom.
jin/kame - piggyback/pg-13
Jin yelps and almost drops Kame when the latter bites down on the cartilage of his ear and tugs, hard. Like, really fucking hard, and so are the curses that he lets drop from his mouth. He'd let the fucker fall on his ass if he didn't have his arms locked in a stronghold around Jin's neck, nails practically digging into his collarbones.
"Kame," Jin grinds out, and gives Kame's ass a warning squeeze.
Kame just chuckles a dirty laugh into his ear. The hot breath isn't helping.
Okay, what now, Jin wonders.
Now that Jin has Kame dumped in an undignified manner on the couch (Jin lowered him slowly, then when Kame had his defenses down and hence loosened his arms, Jin dashed out from under. Kame yipped and went right over), he rubs his still smarting ear and contemplates his next move. Him dropping Kame would have made them even, but with the way the other man licks his lips and reaches for the bucket of popcorn on the table --
"No, I just cleaned the carpet," Jin's voice is terse. "Stop it!"
"Make me," Kame flicks another buttered kernel his way, then licks his fingers slowly.
"We're supposed to be watching a movie." His eyes follow the way Kame sucks his fingers into his mouth, tongue flicking out to get the flecks of popcorn still stuck to his knuckles. There's more popcorn in the bucket, lots, but Kame doesn't waste food.
"You lost a bet."
"..."
"You'll do what I want for a day."
"I really hate you."
"You and everybody else," Kame smirks, "You ain't that special."
Jin frowns.
jin/kame - underwear on strike/g (do not ask.)
"I know what I can do!" Jin's voice warbles from the bedroom.
Kame huffs. If Jin's underwear went missing, it must be from the mistreatment that he had given them, always in a hurry to be rid of them, even when he's trying to get into the other man's pants. You'd think Kame's would have been the first to go, but Jin has always been like an eager puppy.
"What," Kame eyes Jin, the other man still hopping around with his jeans open (Kame refused to let him walk around the house butt-naked), shirtless from his shower. Drawers slide rudely back into their slots with wooden cracks.
"I can wear yours!"
"NO!" Kame bellows from the doorway.
Jin slides Kame's drawer open and his briefs are sitting in there innocently, arranged by colour and ironed neatly.
"You'll ruin them," Oh my god, Kame thinks, then pleads. "Can we just go buy you some?"
junno/kame - something in the way he moves/g
Something in the way he moves; somewhere in his smile he knows: love is a dangerous, whimsical thing to play with, but yet he's still here.
The bed is warm and it dips and rolls as he moves to get out of bed to make that fresh cup of coffee for the pounding in Kame's head that he knows will descend in approximately ten minutes from the moment Kame drags the back of his hand over his eyes.
"Morning," Kame's voice is old, unsticking his tongue and lips with soft clicks.
Maybe he sees Junno nodding, maybe he doesn't. Kame rubs harder at his gummed eyes. He manages to catch the last of Junno's smile, glowing brighter than the morning as he slips through the door to the kitchen.
Life like this doesn't last forever, and Junno knows. His body hums with it. To Kame, it is open and warm, as if it is comfortable just to be existing, only wanting to be here and not anywhere else. Junno pushes it to a limit in a different way from Kame - muscles cracked like whips, alive in the moment he arcs over backwards in a elegant flip.
Kame, he just sees how long his body can last, encouraging it, sometimes bargaining with it. If you get me through the week, I'll let you sleep for five more hours on my next day off. Sometimes, Kame is not all that nice to it. But it's okay now, because Junno lets him sleep, oh, maybe say, five more minutes every morning, and it's just enough.
jin/yamapi - lactose intolerant/g
Jin nearly spits in Yamapi's face when he realizes it's soy milk. Being the best best friend ever, he swallows instead, a twisted look of disgust evident on his face. Yamapi doesn't seem to notice.
"What is this?" Jin stares down at the green drink carton. The straw is a hideous shade of pink.
"Soy milk." Yamapi remains oblivious to Jin's disapproving vibes, and continues to type at his computer.
"It's bad."
"You'll get used to it."
"Don't want to, actually."
"They have it in green tea flavour," Yamapi says, sucking hard at his carton. The glossy sides hollow as there is a jarring sound and Yamapi rips up the last of the milk through the thin straw.
"Ewwwwww," Jin wrinkles his nose. Yamapi flings his empty carton and it bops Jin on the head. "Ouch!"
"I'm lactose-intolerant."
"What. Why?!"
"Are you an idiot?"
"You really are an alien. Shit, that means Ryo was right." Jin takes out his phone and begins texting.
Yamapi rises out of his chair with a screech and leaps at Jin.
jin/yamapi - cravings/pg-13
When Yamapi bites his ear a bit too hard, Jin almost punches him, but he slaps his shoulder instead.
"What." Yamapi looks at him, petulant. They are sprawled across the couch in Jin's living room. "I'm hungry."
"Then go get something to eat," Jin says, slightly annoyed. The couch is warm and comfortable behind his back, and Yamapi is sprawled on top of him. They were watching a movie. Were.
"Don't want to move," Yamapi mutters darkly. Jin cocks an eyebrow.
"I'll cook pasta." Yamapi's face brightens up so quickly Jin is reminded of how bright and sparkly the lights in Disneyland are.
"Only if you make yourself useful," Jin grabs Yamapi by the hair and shoves him downwards. He doesn't even mind the bit of teeth Yamapi uses on him while growling angrily because Jin's a kinky bastard, and Yamapi really does give the best fucking blowjobs when he's desperately hungry.
kame/nakamaru - comfort/g
Kame can't place the smell of Nakamaru's cologne. His nose is slightly stuffed. Nakamaru reaches up awkwardly to pet his hair, elbows knocking against a canister of hairspray on the edge of side table. Kame pulls his legs closer to his body, feeling the leathery slide of the upholstery against his skin, warm and soothing. Nakamaru pulls fingers through the ends of Kame's hair absentmindedly, still awkward, but Kame tangles their fingers together when he reaches up out of habit to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Nakamaru almost pulls away, the abrupt tensing of his muscles obvious to Kame, who has his head in Maru's lap, but he stops when Kame quickly apologizes for the touch.
"It's okay," Nakamaru says with an even voice.
(jin/)yamapi - touch/nc-17
Yamapi wakes up with a start when he feels a touch in the groove between his collarbones. Jerking up with a start, he almost forgets where he is, and Yamapi had been taking a nap in one of the quieter dressing rooms. He blinks and uncurls, realizing it had been his own hand across his chest that had slipped under his jacket. Just the slide of a warm thumb across skin had given him goosepimples. Yamapi didn't think it would have been so arousing, he thought touching himself would be like trying to tickle himself, except you know, not true when its masturbation. But it has been a while since a touch made him feel this way. Not that he didn't have time for a quick handjob in the shower, but the entire energy of the thing is different.
Yamapi briefly remembers the dream he was having before he woke up. He feels a ghost tap on his chin, and knows it was about his solo at yesterday's concert. Yamapi's dance choreography is always sexy, although his choreographer always makes him emphasize the sensual.
Eyes closed, Yamapi tilts his head back and slides his hand down his front of his shirt, the soft shuffle of the cotton material scratches at his nerves as he winds his fingers down. He lets them wander, unpracticed but natural. He lets them catch awkwardly on the ridges of his rumpled shirt, trails them along the line of his jeans; and he thinks of kisses. A press of thumb - soft lips; nails - a bit of teeth. Yamapi pretends his hands are not his own - a fleeting thought passes through his mind that maybe, they could belong to Jin. Yamapi doesn't want to think too hard about that at the moment, because the potential for awkwardness strikes an irrational fear in him and he doesn't want to deal with it, yet. Besides, his got his fly open and finally a hand - a mouth on his cock.
Yamapi plays and teases, he knows what he likes, but he doesn't want it to be over too fast. His other hand has slipped up to his neck and he's drawing heavy lines now, a hard pressure that starts from the dip between his jaw and ear, dragging them across the jagged line of his throat. He curls nails into the sensitive skin across the knobs of bone and gasps at the shock, letting slip a moan when the hand around his cock reflexively tightens.
The music is in his head is fast but smooth as he pulls himself out, a lazy warm energy pooling in his gut. Yamapi rolls his hips up into his hand, the tension in his muscles edging towards the breaking point as his movement stutters - fucking tease, as the mouth - Jin's mouth pulls back, he's the one in control. Yamapi squeezes his eyes shut tighter, as if it would keep those eyes on him, anything to keep his attention - his affection. The red hues of the evening sun glowing through the back of his eyelids bring him back onto the stage for the last chorus of the performance, water rising around him with a rush of air in his ears - his breathing, loud and rough in the empty dressing room as he comes, the stolen kiss on his lips - the hard press of his palm against them to silence his cry, perhaps, a name.
yasu/yoko - blond/nc-17
Yoko knows Yasu dyed his hair blond just for him, but he didn't think it would have this effect on him.
Well, he has always known he had a thing for Yasu being blond, Yasu having curls, and Yasu staring out from under those girly long bangs with the hugest, most watery eyes Yoko has ever seen. Well, fuck.
Yasu doesn't seem surprised when Yoko invites him over for dinner. Subaru raises a pleased eyebrow and smacks Maru in the arse, hissing "pay up!" at their bassist. Maru yelps and shoots a grateful grin in Yoko's direction.
Yoko stutters his words a little but Yasu doesn't reject him. The sharp relief spikes his adrenaline, and there's an impatient buzzing in the ear that follows him all the way from the Chinese take-out store across the street from the jimusho to the steps outside his apartment.
It's not that hard a decision, but the moment they set the food down on the table Yoko scoots around behind Yasu and threads his hands into the shorter mans hair, nuzzling downward into the groove of his neck. The curls are soft in his hand and smell the way Yasu always smells, strong and musky.
"Yasu," Yoko mutters against slightly sweaty skin.
"I'm happy," Yasu starts, but the end of his words drag out into a satisfied sigh as Yoko tugs his head back gently with fingers curled into his scalp.
"Happy what?" Yoko is gently sucking at the skin of Yasu's throat, now holding Yasu's head to the side with one hand in his hair, the other hand busy hitching up the hem of his shirt. It registers vaguely that this is one of those happy shirts Yoko gave to Yasu, with bold prints of flowers all over it.
"Yokocho - " The younger writhes a little and presses back against Yoko, who clicks his tongue in annoyance.
"What, Yasu, what is it." He drops his hand from Yasu's abdomen, fingertips lightly skimming the front of the other man's demin jeans, and brings it back up to the other side of Yasu's head.
Yasu practically hums in pleasure when Yoko threads his fingers tighter, curling against the side of his temple.
"I'm happy Yokocho likes it," and despite Yoko's firm grip in his hair, Yasu gives a belligerent roll of his hips against him, nearly throwing them both off balance. "Aren't you hungry?"
He avoids the question by leaning over to kiss Yasu's mouth upside down, the angle a bit awkward and clashing. But Yasu twists in his grasp - obviously Yoko's too nice to try and yank Yasu's beautiful hair off, but it must have been at least a little bit painful? - tilting his head and shoulders sideways and eventually coming face to face with Yoko.
Then Yoko realizes Yasu's got him pinned against the hallway leading towards the bedroom with the weight of his body, doesn't know when it happened but he knows that dinner can wait when Yasu's willing to do body rolls against him like that. He can feel the ripple of muscles through the thin cotton of their shirts and the cold of the wall behind his back as Yasu's strength forces him into the unyielding surface.
"You're welcome?" Yoko gasps breathily against Yasu's forehead, they are practically thrusting against each other now, if they don't get into the bedroom fast Yoko may or may not come in his pants and that would be a bitch to clean. Yasu has slipped a knee between Yoko's thighs, and his fingers catching on the ridges of the older man's spine as they work his shirt over his head. Yoko still has hands in Yasu's hair, twirling strands at random, dropping it, catching on another, tugging when he wants sounds out of Yasu, creating a mess but he thinks the other man looks even more wonderful with messed up, curly and blond hair anyway. Besides, it would be fun to brush out in the morning, and Yoko never minds doing things like that.
"You could show some appreciation," Yasu smile-smirks as he flings Yoko's shirt aside and draws his own - happy shirt - off with a perfect swipe. Cool air comes between their heated bodies for a brief moment before Yasu practically steps into Yoko and grabs his hips.
"Oh," Yoko says, only wanting to roll his eyes a little bit, but is very much willing as he dips down for another kiss, this time a bit slower and more indulgent. He lets Yasu take the direction, guiding the kiss and the both of them into his own bedroom.
jin/kame - piggyback/pg-13
Jin yelps and almost drops Kame when the latter bites down on the cartilage of his ear and tugs, hard. Like, really fucking hard, and so are the curses that he lets drop from his mouth. He'd let the fucker fall on his ass if he didn't have his arms locked in a stronghold around Jin's neck, nails practically digging into his collarbones.
"Kame," Jin grinds out, and gives Kame's ass a warning squeeze.
Kame just chuckles a dirty laugh into his ear. The hot breath isn't helping.
Okay, what now, Jin wonders.
Now that Jin has Kame dumped in an undignified manner on the couch (Jin lowered him slowly, then when Kame had his defenses down and hence loosened his arms, Jin dashed out from under. Kame yipped and went right over), he rubs his still smarting ear and contemplates his next move. Him dropping Kame would have made them even, but with the way the other man licks his lips and reaches for the bucket of popcorn on the table --
"No, I just cleaned the carpet," Jin's voice is terse. "Stop it!"
"Make me," Kame flicks another buttered kernel his way, then licks his fingers slowly.
"We're supposed to be watching a movie." His eyes follow the way Kame sucks his fingers into his mouth, tongue flicking out to get the flecks of popcorn still stuck to his knuckles. There's more popcorn in the bucket, lots, but Kame doesn't waste food.
"You lost a bet."
"..."
"You'll do what I want for a day."
"I really hate you."
"You and everybody else," Kame smirks, "You ain't that special."
Jin frowns.
jin/kame - underwear on strike/g (do not ask.)
"I know what I can do!" Jin's voice warbles from the bedroom.
Kame huffs. If Jin's underwear went missing, it must be from the mistreatment that he had given them, always in a hurry to be rid of them, even when he's trying to get into the other man's pants. You'd think Kame's would have been the first to go, but Jin has always been like an eager puppy.
"What," Kame eyes Jin, the other man still hopping around with his jeans open (Kame refused to let him walk around the house butt-naked), shirtless from his shower. Drawers slide rudely back into their slots with wooden cracks.
"I can wear yours!"
"NO!" Kame bellows from the doorway.
Jin slides Kame's drawer open and his briefs are sitting in there innocently, arranged by colour and ironed neatly.
"You'll ruin them," Oh my god, Kame thinks, then pleads. "Can we just go buy you some?"