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Five years.
That is how long Izumi Mitsuki has been emceeing for Idolish6 and essentially all their lives onstage. He has more or less gotten the hang of this (which, to all those haters out there who’s been saying Mitsuki still talks too much – yes, it means “I am good at this” in polite Nagi-diplomatic language). This means that he pinpoints odd behaviours with a hundred percent accuracy when it comes to his groupmates’ behaviours on-stage.
Iori’s behaviour has been anything but normal today.
Mitsuki doesn’t know when it begins, specifically. But there’s definitely something strange about that game show section they had at the middle of the live.
“—Iori’s shirt is riding up! Iori’s about to touch the limbo stick! And—” He takes a sharp inhale. It’s half to mask his disappointment, half in preparation for the yell. “—Ooooooh! Our top contender drops out in order to protect his dignity!”
Everything is odd, considering Iori’s reputation as the most competitive out of them in game shows. Mitsuki’s half-certain there is something up with the way fans close by squealed when Iori’s shirt rode up. Huh. He’ll have to see the moment the live is over.
And the live is over in no time at all, with Tamaki dancing out beats that the audience claps to, their leader being lazy with his retorts but in no way with his fan service.
Idolish6’s trotting down the backstage, nowhere as exhausted as they’d been when they started their first 3rd year anniversary international tour.
And Iori’s leading the group to the changing room.
Mitsuki jostles past the members to catch up. (Curse these short legs!)
“-No, no, no! Okinawa sake is absolutely sub-par compared to the fine wine of my country. I’ll have you take back those words, Yamato!”
“I got it, I got it… We all know Japan is the best anyways.”
“Oh. How could you—"
“Aaaah~ I’m hungry~~~”
“I’m sure the manager has some ousama pudding prepared-”
“Iori!” Mitsuki flings an arm around his younger brother’s shoulders – and it’s an awkward posture, he’ll have you know, because he’s tiptoeing out of big brotherly pride. “What’s up with you today? Are you having the runs? You didn’t seem so comfortable out there during the live.”
“Nii-san,” An exasperated look is aimed his way. Mitsuki’s only half-surprised that it’s knowing. “Just let me get back to the changing room, please. I was uncomfortable – but it doesn’t have anything to do with your emceeing.”
An assurance tossed in at that. His younger brother’s such a gentleman.
The first thing Iori does the moment he steps through the doors is to take off his shirt.
Mitsuki takes one look at the rainbow pony in scripted at his hip and he bursts out laughing.
“BWAHAHAHAHA! So that’s why—ahahaha – good job, Iori’s soulmate—” He claps.
Iori suffers through their members’ entertained looks with a beet red face.
He swipes out a navy blue marker and is already on the way to jot out a message to his soulmate.
“It’s nice. To have a soulmate so talented in art. Iori-kun must enjoy looking at them all day.” Sougo’s sincere remark is met with more amusement at Iori’s expense. His poor brother’s retort is cut off by a jealous Tamaki.
“I can be good at art too, Sou-chan!”
“Ah! There’s no competition here, Tamaki-Kun. That’s not what I mean—”
“You guys, don’t forget that we’re all heading over to Erin’s after this. World famous patissier’s invited us over to his main branch today, apparently.” Yamato slings his jacket over a chair.
Iori chokes, abruptly looking up at the wrong moment which causes his marker to fly across his arm with a loud, long hiss.
“We’re going to Erin’s?! Ah, sorry, sorry—”
Mitsuki can already see the angry retorts of his soulmate carving through his arm in red.
“Erin’s huh! Come to think of it, Iori, you like to eat there quite a lot—”
Iori’s choking on air makes a glorious return.
“—it’ll be nice for you to finally meet the maker of your favourite sweets today!” Mitsuki grins, all teeth and crescent eyes.
Iori avoids meeting his gaze.
“Ah. Yes. That would be nice.” His marker jots out quick notes over the span of his arm.
Mitsuki wonders what’s his problem now.
-
“Welcome to Erin’s.”
A familiar chef – Curse, his name is, equally world-famous – what-the-hell-is-he-doing-here level of famous – bows to them with a flourish.
Mitsuki is still giddy over world-renowned culinary masters inviting them to their private restaurants. Like, what the hell? Is Idolish6 beginning to make their mark as taste-testers in the culinary world?! Mitsuki would be the first to admit he’d orgasmed to Curse’s cooking the last time he gave them a private show.
“It’s been a while, Idolish6.” Curse smiles, chuckling at their bug-eyed look.
“But – Curse-san, why are you—” Sougo’s the first to pull himself back together.
“Now, there’s no need to look at me like that. I’m not the main programme today.” Curse shrugs, a casual chuckle to add. “And just call me Yuki. Erin wanted a four-course meal that would go well with his desserts, so I flew here.”
It’s so alarmingly casual, Mitsuki fears what assault these guys are going to make on his tastebuds.
“What are you keeping us waiting for?! Food’s getting cold!” Hope pokes his head out from the kitchen.
“Ah, I forgot to mention it, but Hope’s here too.” Curse – Yuki – whatever his real name is – this guy flashes them the absolutely most charming, buddha-esque smile they’ve ever seen.
Mitsuki’s sure of it now. He’s definitely going to die at the end of this meal.
“I may be failing Erin’s levels of customer service, but come on in.” Yuki struts off without waiting for them to follow.
Mitsuki exchanges quick nervous glances with all of Idolish6.
“Is it just me, or is there something about the way they’re treating us?” He hisses quickly. First Erin then Curse then Hope-?
“In big brother’s experience, it’s best not to look the gift horse in the mouth, Mitsu.” Yamato adjusts his glasses.
“What’s that trailing out of your mouth, big brother…?” Mitsuki deadpans.
“Itadakimasu!”
“Hang on, Nagi!” Mitsuki pulls him back by the collar.
“Calm down, Tamaki-kun! Just remember to use the small spoon before you use the big spoon—”
“This isn’t another diplomatic dinner, Osaka-san.” Iori reminds. Which – if Mitsuki thinks about it now – is another strange trait. His little brother’s been looking so exasperated throughout this whole thing, it doesn’t seem like he’s one of them mundanes. Oh, then again, if he looks carefully, there is that flush on his face that’s kind of scaring Mitsuki. What is it? Iori looking forward to food? As far as he knows, his brother’s only ever had eyes for one thing, and that is Erin’s –
“What’s wrong? Come on in!” A small redhead pokes his head out. Feathery tuffs of scarlet locks frame a tiny face. Carnelian eyes blink at them and focuses in on Iori. A pretty flush comes to his face, an awkward stutter of “-O-Oh.” Before he’s retreating to the kitchen.
What’s the deal with him?
“…Cute…”
What. The.
Mitsuki stares with bulging eyes as Iori lifts a hand to press the back of it to his face.
He’s exchanging SOS signals via wide-eyed stares with the whoever’s left of Idolish6 who hasn’t completely resigned their brains to the dominatrix of the culinary world. Which means, Yamato, Sougo, and Nagi. Sougo seems to balk at the idea of their second youngest cheating on his soulmate. Yamato is lifting his brow, knitting them slightly. And Nagi is – Nagi is frowning. That speaks to satan like levels of immorality in Nagi-language, Mitsuki assures himself.
“Ahaha! I can’t deny that, man!” Mitsuki steps up bravely to the task of breaking his bro out of it. He smacks him hard on the back. Like, really hard. “But no touching. You’ve got Riku in your hands already.”
Iori flushes harder. He averts his eyes. It’s not out of guilt.
What the hell?
“Let’s – just go in already, alright?” Yamato gathers everyone and pushes them along.
The man being the good leader he is, he returns Mitsuki’s what-have-I-done-wrong-how-have-I-raised-my-kid-brother-wrong desperate to hell look with a we’ve-got-this stare.
Mitsuki doesn’t know what he’ll do if Riku ever communicates to him via Iori’s skin while he’s sleeping again. How will he ever look at those red lines without feeling guilty knowing this?
-
“I’m sorry! I nearly forgot to introduce myself!” Red haired kid smiles at them. He’s angelic like Kujo Tenn. Though, it really could be because of Curse’s appetisers in his hands. “I’m Erin, the owner of all Erin’s across the world. Not to brag or anything, of course.” He chuckles nervously. It may be because of the food. He sounds absolutely endearing, all eager to please.
Mitsuki’s in a moral dilemma over whether he’d want the artist Riku for a brother-in-law or Erin, world’s sweets extraordinaire.
“We know.” Yamato’s words hardly registers over the drool pooling in his mouth. He sounds vaguely amused. “We’re very honoured to be invited to your patisserie today, Erin-san. And you even got Curse-san and Hope-san to deal out a four-course meal for us. You shouldn’t have.”
“Ah, no, it’s the least I could have done!” Erin puts down the dish he’s carrying. He smiles at Tamaki and Mitsuki’s side of the table and nudges it closer to them.
Mitsuki thinks he might be in love.
“Afterall, you guys have looked after my friend so long.”
He says that, with a light flush and a well meaning smile directed in Iori’s direction that absolutely does not have anything to do with Yamato’s long-term acquaintance with Curse.
Mitsuki chokes mid-bite and has to have Sougo smack it out of him with a. Very. Painful. Punch. To. The. Gut.
Mitsuki aims him a pained smile as a thank you, because he’s absolutely certain Sougo doesn’t intend it. The other’s pleasant smile confirms his suspicion. (Tamaki reaches over and pats him sympathetically on the back, still shoving food into his mouth like a hamster. HIS food, might he add.)
“Aha, your ‘friend’…?” Yamato retains his smile.
Mitsuki takes a very careful look at Iori and he doesn’t know whether or not to wail at his brother’s intense look of concentration on Erin + that blush.
“Mmh! That’s right!” Erin beams, angelic smile and flowers blooming and all.
Mitsuki hears the “DING DING DING” that signals Yamato’s defeat.
“Please enjoy your meal!” Erin walks off with a red checkered scarf hanging from his thighs.
Yamato’s smile is twitching.
“Ah… Onii-san has lost.” Yamato states, lowering his face to his hands. “Icchi, care to tell me some of the fine points of Erin you like?”
Iori peers after Erin, still dazed as he answers. Utterly and completely lovestruck, might Mitsuki add.
“His thick-headedness is sometimes cute.” He answers dazedly.
“Is that so.” Yamato looks long-sufferingly down at his food.
Something beeps on Mitsuki’s phone.
[Nikaido Yamato: This one’s a lost cause.]
Mitsuki wants to cry.
-
“S-So, what’s been up with Riku lately~?” Mitsuki tries to ask in a non-suspicious manner.
“Nii-san,” Iori gives him a strange look. “It’s been only hours since you saw that pony on my hip. You laughed at it.” And that’s said with an even face. Iori won’t forgive him, even for that ridiculous rainbow pony.
“I already said I was sorry about that, didn’t I?” Mitsuki frowns.
“Nanase-san’s art is sacred. There’s no reason to discredit even a single one of them.”
“Then, what about Erin’s sweets?” Yamato finds the perfect timing to intervene.
“What’s up with this sudden interrogation?” Iori looks between them, alarmed.
“Oh… It’s just pure curiosity.” Nagi places a hand sincerely to his chest. He winks at Mitsuki behind Iori’s back. Good job, Nagi! “Between Iori’s stomach and his skin, we of Idolish6 are curious which is the better way to win his heart! Now!” Nagi raises his hand to Iori with a flourish. That might be a little too much. “Answer this question! Between Erin and Riku, which do you love more?!”
“S-Such a question… there’s obviously no comparison that’s available.” Iori sighs, lowering his fork.
“Oh?” Nagi echoes Mitsuki.
“Erin and Nanase-san… I love both of them.” Iori admits in the most serious way Mitsuki has ever seen. “Whether they steal my heart through food or art, I don’t know about such things. But…” He gives the softest smile Mitsuki has ever seen. It’s at this point that he notices the red tuffs of hair that have been making their way closer to them. “…whichever he is, I adore him anyways.”
“…Him?” Sougo chimes softly.
All of Pythagoras trio stares at the figure behind Iori with dramatic horror.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?” Iori deadpans, realization dawning upon him. “...he is behind me, isn’t he?”
Mitsuki’s younger brother is becoming a huge player, and the most Mitsuki can do in this situation is to mouth a simple “Sorry” at him.
“H-Here’s your entrée!” Erin puts down the plates with lightning speed. He dashes off, and in the shadows of the swinging kitchen doors, Mitsuki finds an eavesdropping Hope and Curse exchanging bets.
Ah, great. Now, the culinary world’s going to take part in this ongoing farce that’s Iori’s love-life too.
“I,” Iori begins coolly. “Am going to strangle you all the first second I step out of this patisserie.”
“Him?” Sougo whispers again, unheard to all under the collective whimpers of Pythagoras Trio.
-
Not a peep can be heard out of them after that. Not that Mitsuki’s giving up on this upward battle of protecting Iori’s monogamy. He excuses himself while Iori’s looking down at a simple cartoonish drawing on his arm and fawning over it with navy hiragana. He snags a busy Hope who was just returning from the men’s washroom and totally kabedons the hell out of him in Erin’s men’s washroom.
“Wo-ah there, Mitsuki! Didn’t know you were into things like these!”
The insinuation of that being made by a world-renowned chef who’s so renowned he could dunk things into his food and still make it good – Mitsuki tries to totally ignore that.
“This is an intervention.” He breathes.
“Of what?” Hope’s eyes sparkle with amusement.
“Hope—” Mitsuki breathes.
“Just call me Momo here.”
“Momo,” Mitsuki makes gooey eyes at him. They’re the type of gooey that comes from giving up his manly pride to salvage all shreds of his brother’s. “Please tell me a way to stop Erin from getting into a relationship with Iori!” He hopes, literally, with fingers intertwined.
Momo stares at him for one long moment, before he cracks a smile.
“You’re joking, right? That must totally be a joke.”
“You don’t get it, Momo.” Mitsuki is desperate. “Iori already has a soulmate—”
“—who he’s happily in love with, I totally get that.” Momo bats his hand at him. He smiles gleefully. “So why not add more to their happiness with a dash of Erin? Just listen to this, Mitsuki-chan. There are tonnes of things that can be done with more than two. Just like cooking with more than just two ingredients, if you add contradicting elements such as hope and curses, the right combination of sweet and spicy, you can—”
-
“Mitsuki, where have you been? You look like you’ve just survived a zombie apocalypse.”
“Nowhere. Nowhere at all.”
Mitsuki learns that he definitely does not want a polygamy with Momo and Yuki.
-
Erin smiles at Iori as he collects the plates for the dessert.
It’s an absolutely sweet smile, so endearing even Mitsuki’s losing himself to it.
[Izumi Mitsuki: I can’t stand to look at this anymore.]
[Izumi Mitsuki: Somebody, please do something about this rollercoaster ride we’re on.]
[Rokuya Nagi: Oh… But Iori will do more than kill us if we say anything, Mitsuki.]
[Rokuya Nagi: It’s best to give up.]
[Nikaido Yamato: Just look at how happy our boy is.]
[Nikaido Yamato: The world’s turning into a more open place anyways. Maybe it’s time to be more accepting of Icchi’s life choices.]
[Izumi Mitsuki: I love how you’re just giving up right there, Old Man.]
[Yotsuba Tamaki: This octopus… is really delicious.]
[Izumi Mitsuki: My brother’s sanctity is of no concern to anyone.]
[Izumi Iori: I hope you remember I’m a part of this chat too, Nii-san.]
[Izumi Mitsuki: Oh, shit.]
He looks up just in time to meet Iori’s even gaze.
Iori’s level of even is more even than evenest washing board right now.
Mitsuki offers a weak smile.
[Izumi Mitsuki: Can I somehow convince you to go back to making gooey eyes at Erin?]
[Izumi Iori: Let’s have a good talk after this.]
-
Erin brings out dessert.
Izumi is too busy orgasming to deal out any intervention.
He receives a private message from Sougo.
[Osaka Sougo: Erm… Mitsuki-san...]
[Osaka Sougo: There’s something that I’ve been a little troubled about.]
[Izumi Mitsuki: Oh! What is it?]
He can’t just tell Sougo to spill it out here, can he? Even though he’s a hundred percent positive Sougo’s not part of the intervention crew. He watches his little brother admire Erin from close up, eyes fixated on every action and giggle Erin makes during conversations with Idolish6.
“You’d make a good wife someday.” Tamaki lavishes the chef with compliments.
[Osaka Sougo: Would I make a good wife too?]
[Osaka Sougo: Ah, that’s not what I was intending to say.]
[Izumi Mitsuki: I'm sure it's not]
[Osaka Sougo: It’s just… How do I put this…?]
“You’ve got a speck of something on your nose, Coda.” Erin jokes using Iori’s producer name, laughing lightly as he reaches out to pinch Iori’s nose. “It’s not coming off. You look like an idiot this way!”
“Spring’s come early for these youths.” Yamato sighs as he lazes back. Really, when the hell did they even get this close?
Iori looks absolutely delighted even if he tries to be cross when he reaches out to Erin’s face.
Urgh…? Erin also has something on his face?
“Really. Who’s the fool between the two of us, Erin?” Iori swipes off the chocolate that’s been booped onto Erin’s nose. It comes off smoothly, disappearing at the same time as the black from Iori’s nose. And Mitsuki finds himself straightening up at once, absolutely astonished by these idiots and his idiocy and – are there any of them here who are not idiots?!
[Osaka Sougo: IthinkRiku-kunandErinmightbethesameperson]
Mitsuki looks from the lovebirds’ love struck features, then to Yamato’s resigned cheers to no one in particular with a glass of wine, then to that gleefully mischievous grin on Momo’s face, who’s waving at him dramatically behind the kitchen doors with a bowl full of melted chocolate—
“Sougo.” Mitsuki whispers faintly. “You could have told me that earlier.”
“I’m very sorry about that.” Sougo ducks his head.
-
Mitsuki wakes up from a drunken stupor with two figures slung over his frame.
His first thought? Oh shit. He’d just gotten in the very same shit he was unsubtly hinting at his younger brother not to do.
His next thought? These hair colours are very unique. Very… subtle.
Mitsuki kind of regrets drinking himself into a long stupid stupor for being such a dick about Iori and Riku getting together. He regrets more having to have such an oblivious stupid younger brother, who worries him to the extent of drinking inhumane amounts of alcohol. Urgh. Somebody, kill him now.
Mitsuki lifts a hand to wipe at his face.
He finds neon shades of pink and lime green written down his arms.
What the hell? Are these demon inscriptions? He’s a freaking blank for god’s sake!
‘Our idol.’
‘Save our lord.’
‘Prettiest little thing ever, isn’t he, Momo?’
‘CUTEST <3’
They’re…legible. At the start. Then, it just dissolves into drunken scribbles.
‘Love the way you eat our food.’
‘That Kabedon was HOT’
‘Want to feed you full of my favourites’
‘Hey, isn’t it hot around here?’
‘He’s ours, right, Momo?’
‘Fuck this. I’m taking off my clothes.’
‘Will feed you like a king for the rest of your life.’
Mother of all lords… Mitsuki may or may not have just received the most tempting wedding proposal of his life. And he was drunk.
“Urgh… My head.” Momo whines as he pulls himself from Mitsuki’s neck, ruffling a hand through his dual-coloured locks. Cooking Satan, Hope, smiles down at the blurry scribbles he sees painted on Mitsuki’s skin in his colour, and Mitsuki kind of hates himself for falling into love with that little triumph in those eyes. “Hey.” A sleepy greeting.
Yuki pulls himself up too, ruffling a hand through long locks.
Mitsuki squeaks at the casual peck he plants against his lips and totally, totally backs against the bed.
“Tell me we didn’t fuck. Please.” He begs.
Yuki cocks his head at him, thumb swiping his own lips and tasting… tasting – URGH. (He won’t ‘Kya’ damn it.)
“We didn’t cross continents just because we wanted to get Riku-kun and Iori-kun together, you know.” Yuki says smoothly, long legs sliding over the side of the bed.
“Okay…… You didn’t answer the question.” Mitsuki feels bad for missing his warmth.
Momo laughs and pulls long hands over Mitsuki, folding him into his chest.
“We totally did, didn’t we, Yuki? We did. But it’s okay!” He trails calming finger pads over Mitsuki’s face to rub away the panic. “We’re gentlemen! We’ll totally take care of you!”
(Oh, they do alright.)