YamaPi/Koyama
Aug. 1st, 2011 10:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snoozing_kittenTitle: This small mountain is a pineapple-infested hell hole.
Rating: PG-13
Group/Pairing: YamaPi/Koyama
Notes: Sort of cross-over-y with Hawaii 5Oh, but you don’t need to have seen the show to get this. I had a lot of fun writing this, and finally! Made legible by my Beta, the lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sanjihan! All my soul for her, and thank you to my army of hand-holders, I would be nowhere without you.
Link to Original Story: Small Mountain
Link to Original Writer:crazyfaucet
Koyama kind of wished he was dreaming because this all felt like some crazy dream. Sadly he was more or less sure he wasn’t asleep (he’d seen Inception and he could remember how he’d gotten here.)
Rewind a bit.
They had been given a working vacation in Hawaii, and Koyama couldn’t be happier; it was a chance to even out his tan a little while working on his English. He didn’t often have a lot of time to travel, in fact he would need to go back a little sooner than everyone else because there was filming for his segment in the news. Still, at that moment, there was a pool with water that sparkled in the sunlight, the weather was hot and the air was thick with humidity, and he had an icy drink with a little blue umbrella in it. The sun was shining in his hair, picking out the golden highlights and making it glow. He pursed his lips around the little red straw and hollowed his cheeks, giving Shige a fish face. Shige snapped a photo and turned back to the ocean just in time to catch a photo of YamaPi falling off his surf board, legs in the air and body toppled over the other edge.
Shige laughed, taking a photo of Ryo falling next, they were coming down like bowling pins out there. “He complained that all my photos were of you,” pointing his camera at a sopping-wet Ryo washing up on shore stumbling over the chord keeping him attached to the surf board.
“Your camera loves me.” Koyama shrugged and Shige laughed.
“More like you’re a slut for it.” He answered.
Koyama just made another elaborate kissy face, this time paired with a peace sign and Shige took a photo. Couldn’t argue with the truth.
They had left TegoMass at the hotel pool; Massu didn’t really like the ocean, too many things in it. Dark, slimy little fish darting around the bottom, between your toes, and sand up in your shorts and just, yeah, he didn’t do beaches well. The sterile pool-side was much more welcoming. Tegoshi went where the bikinis went most of the time, designer shades perched on his little button nose and hiding the way he watched bright material stretched over perky butts shamelessly. Ryo had left with a laugh and a warning to remember to use protection that made Tegoshi scowl at him prettily.
“I’d like to see you try this.” Ryo yelled and his voice carried rough just over the shreiks of playing children, and Shige waved back at him faux cheerfully.
“No way in hell.” The words were only barely louder then hiss of the waves crashing across the sand and Koyama could see the moment they filter past all the water in Ryo’s ears because his smile was quick and completely genuine. He looked ridiculous smiling without a script, but Shige was taking a photo of him anyways, and the moment felt sort of tender, Koyama couldn’t help but beam at them, they thought they were just so subtle.
“Don’t start taking photos of me.” Ryo reached out to shield his face with his hand. “Just stop taking so many photos of fox-face- the architecture is getting jealous.”
“Fuck you.”
“Whatever you say, darling.” And Ryo was bravely trying to run back into the water holding his board but it wasn’t going so well; no one ever looked good running in water unless they also happened to comprise the cast of Baywatch and bounced attractively as they did so. Ryo just looked kind of stupid, but Koyama needed to give him kudos for trying. You wouldn’t see him out there, there were sharks out there and he couldn’t leave Nyanta an orphan.
“When YamaPi comes in, can you tell him to meet me at the bar?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m going to walk along the beach a bit.” Shige looked up from going over the photo’s he’d already taken.
“See ya later.”
The bar was a neat little open-design place, and it was early but Koyama was going to milk every moment of his not-vacation for what it was worth. And if that meant having a second drink at, he checked his watch, one-thirty pm local time, well it was happy hour somewhere in the world so he was going to go for it.
This was probably where things started to really go wrong, and in retrospect he had been a little dumb, and maybe things would have gone a little differently if he hadn’t been so fucking naive. But it wasn’t in Koyama’s nature to be leery of people, and, truth be told, he had probably not learned his lesson after this either; he was a little dumb. It was part of his charm.
Koyama was leaning against the bar, sitting in a puddle of sunlight and just enjoying being alive and young and pretty and all that jazz when a slightly damp (and everything in the place was slightly damp, even the air) middle-aged man slid up next to him.
“Hello.” He said, and he didn’t look threatening so at the time Koyama had just assumed that his daughter wanted an autograph or something else cute like that. The man didn’t seem nefarious.
“Hi.” Koyama tipped his sunglasses down so he could look at him better. The edges of his hair, right around his temples was shot through with silver making him look a little like a badger or some other rodent.
“I couldn’t help but notice you’re checked into the same hotel as I am.” His Japanese was accented, but it was nice to meet someone he could understand without trying too hard. Koyama was only a little put out that he wasn’t going to be able to hold the title of ‘first to be recognized while abroad’ this vacation.
“I was wondering if you could do me a favour.” Sadly, Koyama had never cottoned on to the whole ‘stranger danger’ thing. “It’s my anniversary, me and my wife, twenty-five years.” Koyama’s eyes might have gone a little misty at that, and whatever sense he had was tramped down by the hopeless little romantic that lived in his head. “I was putting together a surprise picnic on the beach for her.”
In Koyama’s head all stories were romances and there was always a happy end. He was practically falling over his fru-fru drink to do whatever this man asked. He had all afternoon, and everyone else was busy, so really why not? Maybe he could serenade them? Would that look awesome in a magazine interview? He wasn’t drunk really, but there had been a margarita with his breakfast.
“I really want it to be a surprise you see.” The man was continuing, and Koyama was hanging on his words completely smitten with the idea. “But she came down a bit early. I’m at the loo right now, see? All this food isn’t agreeing with me.” Koyama couldn’t help the delighted little laugh. “Anyways, can you bring this bag down to the beach for me?”
He hadn’t noticed the duffel bag at all.
“Of course!”
“If you follow the beach down for about twenty minutes there is this lovely little inlet, you can’t miss it. This would mean the world to me.”
“I will, of course I will. That is completely adorable!”
“I can’t thank you enough.” The man left the duffle with him and ran off to find his wife before she came looking for him brandishing ginger root for his stomach, well that’s what he said.
YamaPi came in right after him, wearing nothing but colourful board shorts, hair stuck flat to his head, and all pushed over to one side like he’d taken a fall at an awkward angle in the water.
“I thought I’d lost you somewhere,” YamaPi’s smile was really bright, and Koyama wished he could lean in and taste it right there, the tang of minerals from the ocean all over his lips. That was an urge he was more then used to ignoring though, “you just vanished off the beach.”
“Margaritas.” Koyama said knowingly. His was melting, the outside of his glass completely slick with condensation. “You’ll not believe what just happened.” Koyama felt they were just alone enough that he could lean in towards YamaPi and tell him the whole story, pressing brazenly into his personal space, hand on YamaPi’s warm shoulder.
The recount took the rest of his drink, and he paused at the end- Koyama had a gift for not letting people get words in edgewise. His stream of dialog was smooth and flawless and it was hard to combat, to suck the last drops out of the bottom of his glass. YamaPi, to his credit, didn’t often even try. Now he was watching Koyama with a look on his face that was unbearably fond, curling around the corners of his lips and the edges of his round eyes. Koyama’s mouth sort of worked for a few moments, trying to figure out if he had said anything too embarrassing, something that would explain the way that YamaPi was looking at him. Like he was the moon and the sun and cute little puppies and kittens.
“Well, let’s go then. You can be Sailor Moon- fight for true love and all that shit.”
“Fuck you.” Koyama laughed, but YamaPi was hefting the bag carefully for him and Koyama punched his arm in completely faked annoyance. Right now, they were their own characters in the epic romance novel plot in his head. A modern romance with a happy ending- none of the traditional literature references for them. He’d rather be YamaPi’s Sailor Moon, than his Romeo.
It was just getting to the height of the heat, the sun unstoppable as it tried to burn away the delicate skin on Koyama’s shoulders, but he had borrowed Tego-SPF 60 on his side. And they were precariously close to walking hand in hand down the beach and this was a dream, something magical and unreal and just so perfect that there was no way this was reality.
The cove was hard to miss, and it looked like something out of a post-card. Plants Koyama didn’t know the name of, but in gorgeous colours, nothing pale or water-colour here, only the richest of greens and the sun blinding as it glinted off the waves.
“Holy shit.” Koyama breathed, “everything here is so pretty.”
“It sure is.” Except that YamaPi wasn’t looking at the scenery, he was cupping Koyama’s cheek and tipping his face, and that was just cheesy enough to make Koyama’s heart shiver, chest going tight.
His lips parted just before YamaPi closed in for the goal, anticipation hammering in his chest. The kiss was soft and sweet, just lips brushing over his tentatively, YamaPi’s thumb tracing the curve of his cheek and smiling stupidly at him and shining in the sun. The skin on his shoulders was warm and smooth under Koyama’s fingers, water dripping from his hair still kind of cool and Koyama leaned against him, kissing him again and again until he was dizzy with it and had absolutely no idea how much time they spent like that, just leaning into each other and letting one slippery wet kiss melt into another. YamaPi’s hands felt huge where they were hooking into the belt loops of his tight jeans and drawing him closer until there was nothing but heat and sunlight and YamaPi’s tongue tangled with his- he was strong and perfect under his hands. One hand was just slipping under the band of his jeans, and YamaPi was breathing hard and fast against his tingling lips. “-Back to the hotel, spread you out on those clean sheets and make everything dirty.” Mumbling hotly into the sliver of space between them.
“Oh fuck yes.” Koyama hissed back, imagining riding YamaPi hard in the almost frigid air conditioning, tasting the ocean in all the little crevices where the tang would linger just for his tongue to find.
“Freeze!” And months of hiding and years of training had them flinging away from each other, YamaPi tripped over his flip-flop and went down hard on his ass while Koyama flailed, hands coming out guiltily in front of him as if to declare their innocence. Then he noticed that there were two men, and they had guns, guns which were trained on him and Koyama froze entirely.
He had almost forgotten that Hawaii was technically still part of America, and these kinds of things happened in America.
“Hands up.” Koyama had no idea why the man was yelling at him, let alone what he was yelling but some things were universal so he kept his arms up, palms up. While beside him YamaPi was doing the same thing, still flat on his ass. “Danno, cuff ‘em.”
“What’s going on?” He tried, heart in his throat as the shorter of the men advanced on him, lowering his gun (not to worry, the other one’s aim never wavered and Koyama didn’t even fucking breathe.) Once Koyama’s hands were cuffed behind his back, the steel biting into the delicate joints of his wrist and forcing him to kneel on the forest ground next to YamaPi, the gun dropped a bit. YamaPi was shooting him distressed looks out of the corner of his eye and Koyama would have smiled at him reassuringly if his whole face hadn’t been numb with fear.
The tall one strode up to the bag and he was clearly the one in charge here, so Koyama watched him, stunned and dazed.
Inside wasn’t a picnic at all, unless it was a coke-party. Out of nowhere he pulled out a knife and sliced through the plastic to sniff it.
“Now where did you two get all that coke hm?” The blond one was talking to them, but Koyama was too terrified to even try and translate so it seemed like as mass of sound- angry sound. He could feel the tightening behind his eyes and crying never actually helped, but he couldn’t really stop it. Only the fact that YamaPi was sitting next to him, and he had seen Koyama cry enough but he didn’t need to think he was a total pussy, stopped the tears from falling. “Come on you can tell me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Koyama said, voice gone all high and tight in his distress, talking in rapid Japanese. “That isn’t mine at all, some man gave it to me, and I was just bringing it here and please don’t shoot me.” The last part was barely a squeak.
“You’re going to need to speak English there pal.” Blond cop said and YamaPi shook his head.
“I don’t understand English.” YamaPi said slowly, carefully, in slurred English.
“Get them in the car.” The tall on nodded his head at the car and suddenly Koyama was being hauled to his feet and his legs were shaking and he stumbled, making the short cop take his weight.
“You’re like a twig.” He said, pulling Koyama onto his baby-deer legs easily, and the metal was digging into his wrists with enough force to bruise he knew it, could feel the dull ache left in the wake of the sharpest of the pain. “What do you weigh? 100 pounds?”
Koyama squeaked. “I didn’t do anything.” He tried again, speaking very slowly and without hope that it would work.
He was roughly tossed in the back of the car, and it was something huge and silver and mean looking, and it didn’t look like a police car. Was he being kidnapped? He needed to learn how to say ‘I didn’t do it’ in every language he might need in the near future.
YamaPi was tossed in after him, it was uncomfortable sitting with his hands behind him like that. He stared helplessly at YamaPi, as the front doors closed and the car pulled away. They were talking up front, actually it sounded like they were arguing over something, and he felt very small and very scared, opposite of how he normally felt, like he was a million feet tall standing in front of the Tokyo Dome with thousands of people screaming for him.
YamaPi caught his eyes, and his lips were still swollen, worse where he was chewing on them now, and Koyama had to tramp down on the urge to laugh hysterically.
The rest was a bit of a blur, being hauled out of the car and separated from YamaPi, the other man being lead down a different hallway and his heart was beating in his throat, pulse fluttering like a trapped animal.
Which is where Koyama realized that this wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t a nightmare, but he really desperately wished it was. Instead he was stuck in reality, freezing in a pair of too-tight jeans and a wife-beater in some featureless room and they had taken YamaPi somewhere else. Which is why he didn’t feel too bad about letting the tears roll down his cheek. If anything, that seemed to throw the police officer a bit. At one point a pretty lady came in and awkwardly offered him some tissues. They had actually chained his ankle to his chair. Where did they think he was going? He was locked in this cold dismal little room.
“I don’t understand.” He’d sniffled, voice thready and the words all garbled and she’d just blinked at him as if he didn’t understand a word of it.
When he was left alone again, Koyama curled up as best he could to keep his arms warm and wondered where YamaPi was. If maybe he was trying to explain what had happened and who they were? They had taken his wallet and his ID- all you really needed was a google search. There was no clock here, but it felt like forever, and they were missing the practice run through of the shots for the photo shoot. The photographer had wanted some specific shots on the beach with the setting sun, and all these ‘artsy’ things about colour balance and the backlighting shadows. Something.
Shige was probably worried about him. Had anyone seen where they went? They had taken his phone too.
“Hello.” Someone else was speaking Japanese, awful thick accent, but they were speaking normal-people-talk and Koyama couldn’t help but smile at him a little, feeling hopeful for the first time in what seemed like forever. That perfect moment down at the beach seemed like an entire lifetime away from this, but maybe things were looking up now.
“Good afternoon.” He nodded as best as he could, curled up in the chair. The police officers were here with him, and the small Japanese man was clearly a translator of some sort.
“You can tell him his pretty ass is going to go to jail if he doesn’t tell us where Nishimura is. They eat boys like him alive in prison.” The translator looked at the blond cop oddly, but translated the message anyways.
All three of them seemed startled when Koyama began to hiccup, the tears that had just stopped began spilling over again.
“I don’t know anything I swear.” His fingers knotted and unknotted together, tugging on the joints until they screamed with pain. “I didn’t know what was in the bag; it was supposed to be a picnic!” The man was translating in rapid English as he was talking, his words all sounding like white noise against the rushing in Koyama’s ears. “You need to believe me. This is some kind of mistake. I can’t go to prison!”
Dark haired man was talking now. ”Ask him where he got the bag.”
“Some man in the bar gave it to me, it was for his wife, and I was just going to drop it there.” Koyama tugged on his fingers some more and something in his hand popped painfully so he forced them to unclench, his middle finger throbbed at the first joint. “Is YamaPi alright? Is he okay? He didn’t even meet the man; I swear he had nothing to do with it.”
“He’s asking about the other one, says his name is YamaPi.” Max looked at the pair of detectives, face perfectly blank as he relayed the messages back and forth.
“They were getting awfully cosy when we found them.” Blondie said, running his hands through his messy blond hair looking haggard.
“Tell him that people have died and if he doesn’t tell us where Nishimura is, a missing little girl will die next.”
Max relayed the information and Koyama started crying again.
“I don’t know anything. A man at the bar gave me the bag. This is the truth, this is all I know.”
“If he’s organized crime then I’m a ballerina, and will you ask him to stop crying? I’m beginning to feel like the world’s biggest asshole here.” Danny hissed, rubbing at his chin where his facial hair was starting to grow in and it itched.
The girl came back in then and Koyama rallied together his best poker face (she was very pretty after all, and every cloud had a silver lining). “Hey boss, we’ve got a problem. I’ve run his ID and prints and he’s... well I don’t think he’s a criminal.”
“No record?” Koyama drummed his fingers on the table while they spoke, watching their faces and trying to make out the words. He really just wanted to know where YamaPi and if he was okay.
“Please.” He asked the translator. “Is YamaPi okay?”
“None, the records I could find on him were, well it seems he was here on a photo shoot, he wasn’t even in the country when Lacy was kidnapped.” Kono looked mildly embarrassed to be telling them this.
“A model. Of course he’s a model- only a model would be dumb enough to run drugs without even knowing it.”
Steve cut off Danny’s rant. “Can you ask him to describe the man who gave him the drugs?”
Koyama nodded while the blond cop, still mumbling to himself, uncuffed him, and Koyama brought his bruised wrists to his chest and began to explain the bar encounter to the nice translator. The girl left and brought YamaPi back with her. He immediately went to Koyama’s side, not touching but just there. Koyama titled his head to rest against YamaPi’s chilled bicep, and kept talking.
By the time they got out of the police station, and after a much more pleasant ride in the SUV, dusk had come and gone and Koyama was feeling filthy and bruised, manfully resisting the urge to pull YamaPi against his chest and just hide until this nightmare was over.
“Oh my god.” The PD was all but pushed out of the way as Koyama stumbled out of the back of the SUV, a Korean man sitting in the front with a rather impassive face, and the short round-faced translator riding shotgun. “Koyama.”
Shige held him at arm’s length, hands moving all over his shoulders as if making sure he was okay. “You didn’t show for the rehearsal, and then you missed the shoot too, I was so worried. No one knew where you went.” Koyama wasn’t sure that Shige wasn’t about to kiss him right then and there in front of everyone and smiled.
“There was a misunderstanding.” He smiled, knowing his face was still all puffy from crying and that he looked a complete wreck.
“Mr. Jackson was so pissed when you two didn’t show up.” Massu added helpfully, and YamaPi just shrugged; what was there to say?
While there was a huge fuss right there in the lobby, YamaPi leaned against him so that the back of his hand was snug up against the back of Koyama’s and he was giving him that look again, like Koyama really did mean everything to him. His chest tightened all funny, and well, at least this would make an awesome pub-story when he got back.
This wasn’t his dream vacation at all, but it wasn’t a total nightmare either.
Epilogue:
The spread had Massu and Shige standing back to back, lit by the most brilliant sunset and the ocean, bare-foot in the sand, Shige’s jeans rolled up. It was beautiful; Koyama could feel the heat of the evening like a breath against his face just looking at it. Tegoshi and Ryo had a similar photo but they were both standing on opposite ends of the page and looking across at each other with the waves coming in around them like some warring gods of sand and sea.
Koyama and YamaPi had a completely heterosexual-looking shot of them building a sand castle on the beach under a thick full moon. They had covered his wrists in make-up to hide the bruises, but he could just see the shadow of bruises there. He’d had to fly out early the next morning. But he’d woken up with YamaPi curled against his chest in a mountain of crisp hotel sheets and the faintest pink of the pre-dawn peeping through the windows. He had really not wanted to tear himself away from the dreamy morning scene but work beckoned, the end of his vacation in the strange tummy-jerking sensation of the aeroplane taking off. He couldn’t say he was entirely sad to see Hawaii go.
Oh, and the Hawaii 5-0 task force solved the case and rescued Lacy (Koyama googled it later).
Rating: PG-13
Group/Pairing: YamaPi/Koyama
Notes: Sort of cross-over-y with Hawaii 5Oh, but you don’t need to have seen the show to get this. I had a lot of fun writing this, and finally! Made legible by my Beta, the lovely
sanjihan! All my soul for her, and thank you to my army of hand-holders, I would be nowhere without you. Link to Original Story: Small Mountain
Link to Original Writer:
crazyfaucetKoyama kind of wished he was dreaming because this all felt like some crazy dream. Sadly he was more or less sure he wasn’t asleep (he’d seen Inception and he could remember how he’d gotten here.)
Rewind a bit.
They had been given a working vacation in Hawaii, and Koyama couldn’t be happier; it was a chance to even out his tan a little while working on his English. He didn’t often have a lot of time to travel, in fact he would need to go back a little sooner than everyone else because there was filming for his segment in the news. Still, at that moment, there was a pool with water that sparkled in the sunlight, the weather was hot and the air was thick with humidity, and he had an icy drink with a little blue umbrella in it. The sun was shining in his hair, picking out the golden highlights and making it glow. He pursed his lips around the little red straw and hollowed his cheeks, giving Shige a fish face. Shige snapped a photo and turned back to the ocean just in time to catch a photo of YamaPi falling off his surf board, legs in the air and body toppled over the other edge.
Shige laughed, taking a photo of Ryo falling next, they were coming down like bowling pins out there. “He complained that all my photos were of you,” pointing his camera at a sopping-wet Ryo washing up on shore stumbling over the chord keeping him attached to the surf board.
“Your camera loves me.” Koyama shrugged and Shige laughed.
“More like you’re a slut for it.” He answered.
Koyama just made another elaborate kissy face, this time paired with a peace sign and Shige took a photo. Couldn’t argue with the truth.
They had left TegoMass at the hotel pool; Massu didn’t really like the ocean, too many things in it. Dark, slimy little fish darting around the bottom, between your toes, and sand up in your shorts and just, yeah, he didn’t do beaches well. The sterile pool-side was much more welcoming. Tegoshi went where the bikinis went most of the time, designer shades perched on his little button nose and hiding the way he watched bright material stretched over perky butts shamelessly. Ryo had left with a laugh and a warning to remember to use protection that made Tegoshi scowl at him prettily.
“I’d like to see you try this.” Ryo yelled and his voice carried rough just over the shreiks of playing children, and Shige waved back at him faux cheerfully.
“No way in hell.” The words were only barely louder then hiss of the waves crashing across the sand and Koyama could see the moment they filter past all the water in Ryo’s ears because his smile was quick and completely genuine. He looked ridiculous smiling without a script, but Shige was taking a photo of him anyways, and the moment felt sort of tender, Koyama couldn’t help but beam at them, they thought they were just so subtle.
“Don’t start taking photos of me.” Ryo reached out to shield his face with his hand. “Just stop taking so many photos of fox-face- the architecture is getting jealous.”
“Fuck you.”
“Whatever you say, darling.” And Ryo was bravely trying to run back into the water holding his board but it wasn’t going so well; no one ever looked good running in water unless they also happened to comprise the cast of Baywatch and bounced attractively as they did so. Ryo just looked kind of stupid, but Koyama needed to give him kudos for trying. You wouldn’t see him out there, there were sharks out there and he couldn’t leave Nyanta an orphan.
“When YamaPi comes in, can you tell him to meet me at the bar?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m going to walk along the beach a bit.” Shige looked up from going over the photo’s he’d already taken.
“See ya later.”
The bar was a neat little open-design place, and it was early but Koyama was going to milk every moment of his not-vacation for what it was worth. And if that meant having a second drink at, he checked his watch, one-thirty pm local time, well it was happy hour somewhere in the world so he was going to go for it.
This was probably where things started to really go wrong, and in retrospect he had been a little dumb, and maybe things would have gone a little differently if he hadn’t been so fucking naive. But it wasn’t in Koyama’s nature to be leery of people, and, truth be told, he had probably not learned his lesson after this either; he was a little dumb. It was part of his charm.
Koyama was leaning against the bar, sitting in a puddle of sunlight and just enjoying being alive and young and pretty and all that jazz when a slightly damp (and everything in the place was slightly damp, even the air) middle-aged man slid up next to him.
“Hello.” He said, and he didn’t look threatening so at the time Koyama had just assumed that his daughter wanted an autograph or something else cute like that. The man didn’t seem nefarious.
“Hi.” Koyama tipped his sunglasses down so he could look at him better. The edges of his hair, right around his temples was shot through with silver making him look a little like a badger or some other rodent.
“I couldn’t help but notice you’re checked into the same hotel as I am.” His Japanese was accented, but it was nice to meet someone he could understand without trying too hard. Koyama was only a little put out that he wasn’t going to be able to hold the title of ‘first to be recognized while abroad’ this vacation.
“I was wondering if you could do me a favour.” Sadly, Koyama had never cottoned on to the whole ‘stranger danger’ thing. “It’s my anniversary, me and my wife, twenty-five years.” Koyama’s eyes might have gone a little misty at that, and whatever sense he had was tramped down by the hopeless little romantic that lived in his head. “I was putting together a surprise picnic on the beach for her.”
In Koyama’s head all stories were romances and there was always a happy end. He was practically falling over his fru-fru drink to do whatever this man asked. He had all afternoon, and everyone else was busy, so really why not? Maybe he could serenade them? Would that look awesome in a magazine interview? He wasn’t drunk really, but there had been a margarita with his breakfast.
“I really want it to be a surprise you see.” The man was continuing, and Koyama was hanging on his words completely smitten with the idea. “But she came down a bit early. I’m at the loo right now, see? All this food isn’t agreeing with me.” Koyama couldn’t help the delighted little laugh. “Anyways, can you bring this bag down to the beach for me?”
He hadn’t noticed the duffel bag at all.
“Of course!”
“If you follow the beach down for about twenty minutes there is this lovely little inlet, you can’t miss it. This would mean the world to me.”
“I will, of course I will. That is completely adorable!”
“I can’t thank you enough.” The man left the duffle with him and ran off to find his wife before she came looking for him brandishing ginger root for his stomach, well that’s what he said.
YamaPi came in right after him, wearing nothing but colourful board shorts, hair stuck flat to his head, and all pushed over to one side like he’d taken a fall at an awkward angle in the water.
“I thought I’d lost you somewhere,” YamaPi’s smile was really bright, and Koyama wished he could lean in and taste it right there, the tang of minerals from the ocean all over his lips. That was an urge he was more then used to ignoring though, “you just vanished off the beach.”
“Margaritas.” Koyama said knowingly. His was melting, the outside of his glass completely slick with condensation. “You’ll not believe what just happened.” Koyama felt they were just alone enough that he could lean in towards YamaPi and tell him the whole story, pressing brazenly into his personal space, hand on YamaPi’s warm shoulder.
The recount took the rest of his drink, and he paused at the end- Koyama had a gift for not letting people get words in edgewise. His stream of dialog was smooth and flawless and it was hard to combat, to suck the last drops out of the bottom of his glass. YamaPi, to his credit, didn’t often even try. Now he was watching Koyama with a look on his face that was unbearably fond, curling around the corners of his lips and the edges of his round eyes. Koyama’s mouth sort of worked for a few moments, trying to figure out if he had said anything too embarrassing, something that would explain the way that YamaPi was looking at him. Like he was the moon and the sun and cute little puppies and kittens.
“Well, let’s go then. You can be Sailor Moon- fight for true love and all that shit.”
“Fuck you.” Koyama laughed, but YamaPi was hefting the bag carefully for him and Koyama punched his arm in completely faked annoyance. Right now, they were their own characters in the epic romance novel plot in his head. A modern romance with a happy ending- none of the traditional literature references for them. He’d rather be YamaPi’s Sailor Moon, than his Romeo.
It was just getting to the height of the heat, the sun unstoppable as it tried to burn away the delicate skin on Koyama’s shoulders, but he had borrowed Tego-SPF 60 on his side. And they were precariously close to walking hand in hand down the beach and this was a dream, something magical and unreal and just so perfect that there was no way this was reality.
The cove was hard to miss, and it looked like something out of a post-card. Plants Koyama didn’t know the name of, but in gorgeous colours, nothing pale or water-colour here, only the richest of greens and the sun blinding as it glinted off the waves.
“Holy shit.” Koyama breathed, “everything here is so pretty.”
“It sure is.” Except that YamaPi wasn’t looking at the scenery, he was cupping Koyama’s cheek and tipping his face, and that was just cheesy enough to make Koyama’s heart shiver, chest going tight.
His lips parted just before YamaPi closed in for the goal, anticipation hammering in his chest. The kiss was soft and sweet, just lips brushing over his tentatively, YamaPi’s thumb tracing the curve of his cheek and smiling stupidly at him and shining in the sun. The skin on his shoulders was warm and smooth under Koyama’s fingers, water dripping from his hair still kind of cool and Koyama leaned against him, kissing him again and again until he was dizzy with it and had absolutely no idea how much time they spent like that, just leaning into each other and letting one slippery wet kiss melt into another. YamaPi’s hands felt huge where they were hooking into the belt loops of his tight jeans and drawing him closer until there was nothing but heat and sunlight and YamaPi’s tongue tangled with his- he was strong and perfect under his hands. One hand was just slipping under the band of his jeans, and YamaPi was breathing hard and fast against his tingling lips. “-Back to the hotel, spread you out on those clean sheets and make everything dirty.” Mumbling hotly into the sliver of space between them.
“Oh fuck yes.” Koyama hissed back, imagining riding YamaPi hard in the almost frigid air conditioning, tasting the ocean in all the little crevices where the tang would linger just for his tongue to find.
“Freeze!” And months of hiding and years of training had them flinging away from each other, YamaPi tripped over his flip-flop and went down hard on his ass while Koyama flailed, hands coming out guiltily in front of him as if to declare their innocence. Then he noticed that there were two men, and they had guns, guns which were trained on him and Koyama froze entirely.
He had almost forgotten that Hawaii was technically still part of America, and these kinds of things happened in America.
“Hands up.” Koyama had no idea why the man was yelling at him, let alone what he was yelling but some things were universal so he kept his arms up, palms up. While beside him YamaPi was doing the same thing, still flat on his ass. “Danno, cuff ‘em.”
“What’s going on?” He tried, heart in his throat as the shorter of the men advanced on him, lowering his gun (not to worry, the other one’s aim never wavered and Koyama didn’t even fucking breathe.) Once Koyama’s hands were cuffed behind his back, the steel biting into the delicate joints of his wrist and forcing him to kneel on the forest ground next to YamaPi, the gun dropped a bit. YamaPi was shooting him distressed looks out of the corner of his eye and Koyama would have smiled at him reassuringly if his whole face hadn’t been numb with fear.
The tall one strode up to the bag and he was clearly the one in charge here, so Koyama watched him, stunned and dazed.
Inside wasn’t a picnic at all, unless it was a coke-party. Out of nowhere he pulled out a knife and sliced through the plastic to sniff it.
“Now where did you two get all that coke hm?” The blond one was talking to them, but Koyama was too terrified to even try and translate so it seemed like as mass of sound- angry sound. He could feel the tightening behind his eyes and crying never actually helped, but he couldn’t really stop it. Only the fact that YamaPi was sitting next to him, and he had seen Koyama cry enough but he didn’t need to think he was a total pussy, stopped the tears from falling. “Come on you can tell me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Koyama said, voice gone all high and tight in his distress, talking in rapid Japanese. “That isn’t mine at all, some man gave it to me, and I was just bringing it here and please don’t shoot me.” The last part was barely a squeak.
“You’re going to need to speak English there pal.” Blond cop said and YamaPi shook his head.
“I don’t understand English.” YamaPi said slowly, carefully, in slurred English.
“Get them in the car.” The tall on nodded his head at the car and suddenly Koyama was being hauled to his feet and his legs were shaking and he stumbled, making the short cop take his weight.
“You’re like a twig.” He said, pulling Koyama onto his baby-deer legs easily, and the metal was digging into his wrists with enough force to bruise he knew it, could feel the dull ache left in the wake of the sharpest of the pain. “What do you weigh? 100 pounds?”
Koyama squeaked. “I didn’t do anything.” He tried again, speaking very slowly and without hope that it would work.
He was roughly tossed in the back of the car, and it was something huge and silver and mean looking, and it didn’t look like a police car. Was he being kidnapped? He needed to learn how to say ‘I didn’t do it’ in every language he might need in the near future.
YamaPi was tossed in after him, it was uncomfortable sitting with his hands behind him like that. He stared helplessly at YamaPi, as the front doors closed and the car pulled away. They were talking up front, actually it sounded like they were arguing over something, and he felt very small and very scared, opposite of how he normally felt, like he was a million feet tall standing in front of the Tokyo Dome with thousands of people screaming for him.
YamaPi caught his eyes, and his lips were still swollen, worse where he was chewing on them now, and Koyama had to tramp down on the urge to laugh hysterically.
The rest was a bit of a blur, being hauled out of the car and separated from YamaPi, the other man being lead down a different hallway and his heart was beating in his throat, pulse fluttering like a trapped animal.
Which is where Koyama realized that this wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t a nightmare, but he really desperately wished it was. Instead he was stuck in reality, freezing in a pair of too-tight jeans and a wife-beater in some featureless room and they had taken YamaPi somewhere else. Which is why he didn’t feel too bad about letting the tears roll down his cheek. If anything, that seemed to throw the police officer a bit. At one point a pretty lady came in and awkwardly offered him some tissues. They had actually chained his ankle to his chair. Where did they think he was going? He was locked in this cold dismal little room.
“I don’t understand.” He’d sniffled, voice thready and the words all garbled and she’d just blinked at him as if he didn’t understand a word of it.
When he was left alone again, Koyama curled up as best he could to keep his arms warm and wondered where YamaPi was. If maybe he was trying to explain what had happened and who they were? They had taken his wallet and his ID- all you really needed was a google search. There was no clock here, but it felt like forever, and they were missing the practice run through of the shots for the photo shoot. The photographer had wanted some specific shots on the beach with the setting sun, and all these ‘artsy’ things about colour balance and the backlighting shadows. Something.
Shige was probably worried about him. Had anyone seen where they went? They had taken his phone too.
“Hello.” Someone else was speaking Japanese, awful thick accent, but they were speaking normal-people-talk and Koyama couldn’t help but smile at him a little, feeling hopeful for the first time in what seemed like forever. That perfect moment down at the beach seemed like an entire lifetime away from this, but maybe things were looking up now.
“Good afternoon.” He nodded as best as he could, curled up in the chair. The police officers were here with him, and the small Japanese man was clearly a translator of some sort.
“You can tell him his pretty ass is going to go to jail if he doesn’t tell us where Nishimura is. They eat boys like him alive in prison.” The translator looked at the blond cop oddly, but translated the message anyways.
All three of them seemed startled when Koyama began to hiccup, the tears that had just stopped began spilling over again.
“I don’t know anything I swear.” His fingers knotted and unknotted together, tugging on the joints until they screamed with pain. “I didn’t know what was in the bag; it was supposed to be a picnic!” The man was translating in rapid English as he was talking, his words all sounding like white noise against the rushing in Koyama’s ears. “You need to believe me. This is some kind of mistake. I can’t go to prison!”
Dark haired man was talking now. ”Ask him where he got the bag.”
“Some man in the bar gave it to me, it was for his wife, and I was just going to drop it there.” Koyama tugged on his fingers some more and something in his hand popped painfully so he forced them to unclench, his middle finger throbbed at the first joint. “Is YamaPi alright? Is he okay? He didn’t even meet the man; I swear he had nothing to do with it.”
“He’s asking about the other one, says his name is YamaPi.” Max looked at the pair of detectives, face perfectly blank as he relayed the messages back and forth.
“They were getting awfully cosy when we found them.” Blondie said, running his hands through his messy blond hair looking haggard.
“Tell him that people have died and if he doesn’t tell us where Nishimura is, a missing little girl will die next.”
Max relayed the information and Koyama started crying again.
“I don’t know anything. A man at the bar gave me the bag. This is the truth, this is all I know.”
“If he’s organized crime then I’m a ballerina, and will you ask him to stop crying? I’m beginning to feel like the world’s biggest asshole here.” Danny hissed, rubbing at his chin where his facial hair was starting to grow in and it itched.
The girl came back in then and Koyama rallied together his best poker face (she was very pretty after all, and every cloud had a silver lining). “Hey boss, we’ve got a problem. I’ve run his ID and prints and he’s... well I don’t think he’s a criminal.”
“No record?” Koyama drummed his fingers on the table while they spoke, watching their faces and trying to make out the words. He really just wanted to know where YamaPi and if he was okay.
“Please.” He asked the translator. “Is YamaPi okay?”
“None, the records I could find on him were, well it seems he was here on a photo shoot, he wasn’t even in the country when Lacy was kidnapped.” Kono looked mildly embarrassed to be telling them this.
“A model. Of course he’s a model- only a model would be dumb enough to run drugs without even knowing it.”
Steve cut off Danny’s rant. “Can you ask him to describe the man who gave him the drugs?”
Koyama nodded while the blond cop, still mumbling to himself, uncuffed him, and Koyama brought his bruised wrists to his chest and began to explain the bar encounter to the nice translator. The girl left and brought YamaPi back with her. He immediately went to Koyama’s side, not touching but just there. Koyama titled his head to rest against YamaPi’s chilled bicep, and kept talking.
By the time they got out of the police station, and after a much more pleasant ride in the SUV, dusk had come and gone and Koyama was feeling filthy and bruised, manfully resisting the urge to pull YamaPi against his chest and just hide until this nightmare was over.
“Oh my god.” The PD was all but pushed out of the way as Koyama stumbled out of the back of the SUV, a Korean man sitting in the front with a rather impassive face, and the short round-faced translator riding shotgun. “Koyama.”
Shige held him at arm’s length, hands moving all over his shoulders as if making sure he was okay. “You didn’t show for the rehearsal, and then you missed the shoot too, I was so worried. No one knew where you went.” Koyama wasn’t sure that Shige wasn’t about to kiss him right then and there in front of everyone and smiled.
“There was a misunderstanding.” He smiled, knowing his face was still all puffy from crying and that he looked a complete wreck.
“Mr. Jackson was so pissed when you two didn’t show up.” Massu added helpfully, and YamaPi just shrugged; what was there to say?
While there was a huge fuss right there in the lobby, YamaPi leaned against him so that the back of his hand was snug up against the back of Koyama’s and he was giving him that look again, like Koyama really did mean everything to him. His chest tightened all funny, and well, at least this would make an awesome pub-story when he got back.
This wasn’t his dream vacation at all, but it wasn’t a total nightmare either.
Epilogue:
The spread had Massu and Shige standing back to back, lit by the most brilliant sunset and the ocean, bare-foot in the sand, Shige’s jeans rolled up. It was beautiful; Koyama could feel the heat of the evening like a breath against his face just looking at it. Tegoshi and Ryo had a similar photo but they were both standing on opposite ends of the page and looking across at each other with the waves coming in around them like some warring gods of sand and sea.
Koyama and YamaPi had a completely heterosexual-looking shot of them building a sand castle on the beach under a thick full moon. They had covered his wrists in make-up to hide the bruises, but he could just see the shadow of bruises there. He’d had to fly out early the next morning. But he’d woken up with YamaPi curled against his chest in a mountain of crisp hotel sheets and the faintest pink of the pre-dawn peeping through the windows. He had really not wanted to tear himself away from the dreamy morning scene but work beckoned, the end of his vacation in the strange tummy-jerking sensation of the aeroplane taking off. He couldn’t say he was entirely sad to see Hawaii go.
Oh, and the Hawaii 5-0 task force solved the case and rescued Lacy (Koyama googled it later).
