c17h19no3 | [ private movie screenings. ]

Entry tags:

jigen,
lupin

[ private movie screenings. ]

[ When working with Arsène Lupin the Third, the one thing to always remember is that the man is, in a word, unpredictable. It's a running constant, the one common thread that weaves all of his actions together to form their ever-expanding, staggeringly elaborate tapestry of adventures. Unshakable, unbreakable, unstoppable: that's Lupin, and Jigen honestly has no idea what he'd been expecting when his partner'd walked up to him that morning, swaying lightly on the balls of his feet to an invisible tune, hands in his pockets like he'd just pilfered something of Jigen's that Jigen would be exceedingly angry about later.

In reality, though, what'd come out of Lupin's mouth was a simple, disarming:

"Wanna go see a movie?"

Delivered with all the coyness of a boy asking someone out on a first date, complete with exaggerated fidgeting and an "aw-shucks" pout that'd distinctly rubbed Jigen the wrong way.

"No", he'd replied with finality, and he'd thought that that would be that...

...but here he is now, bag of freshly-made caramel corn tucked under one arm, peering into a cozy home theater that would comfortably seat a crowd of thirty.

He feels like he's been conned into this.

He probably has.

But being the painstakingly conscientious man that he is, disgustingly true to his word once he's given it, Jigen settles into one of the surprisingly plush chairs in the middle of the room and throws his feet up, resting the heel of his new shoes onto the back of the seat in front of him. If he's doing this, he's in it for the long haul. ]

What did you say we were watching, Lupin?

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[It takes a good moment or two for his fuzzy brain to register his partners words, and when it does, a fucked out laugh, low rumble in his throat and lazy as hell, escapes his lips. He's content to bask in the warmth of the two of them, of Jigen curled up against him. He eases up on his knee a tad, loops his arms around Jigen to siphon more of his warmth because his skin is cooling rapidly and he just can't have that.

(of course, like the true gentleman he is, he wipes his wet hand on the seat beside him)

He's still got goosebumps from Jigen's breath and teeth fanned out across his skin.]

Satisfied, are you~? Heh, I knew it. [smuggity smug smug bastard that he is, he squeezes Jigen all the more closer, then releases him in order to fish a crumbled pack of cigarettes from a jacket pocket. Then it's back to curling around Jigen, pack and all]

This is a pretty old fashioned place, I don't see a smoke detector in here. I figure you'll have to time it before the ones in the lobby go off.

[ He feels that smug grin radiating off of Lupin, and responds appropriately with a halfhearted swat of (the clean) hand against Lupin's head. There's something to be said here, something about not getting cocky, but he has a feeling that using the word "cock", or any derivative, is just Not A Good Idea right now.

His limbs feel like wet cement, half-congealed and hardening in Lupin's outline; the familiar rustle of cigarettes rolling in paper packaging contributes to his sluggishness, assuring him that he won't have to move away to get that smooth drought of smoke back in his lungs. ]

I'm not sticking around for Round 2.

[ A warning and a rebuff against further self-congratulation, Lupin. Picking his head up from its perch on his partner's shoulder proves to be arduous work, but somehow, he manages. ]

Heh. Maybe we should set fire to this damn place and get rid of the evidence.

[ Not that he'd seriously advocate that, but damn, these seats are a mess. ]

[Cue a shuddery-sigh elicited from the contact, cheek flush against Jigen's even after all that effort it took his partner to break away from him. There's a nuzzle there, unsubtle and all, little noise of contentment. Not that he'd admit it, but he's not sure he'd survive Round 2 without actually falling out of the seat this time, and Lupin doesn't need yet another embarrassing pants-down moment...probably.]

Mmm, that's alright. This place can't handle another thorough thrashing romp in the aisle from us, anyway. Though doing it in a collapsing building is kind of on my bucket list after that one show....

[He closes his eyes, shoulders utterly slumped, cheek and temple rested against Jigen's still-flushed face. They're sweaty and gross but he can't be assed to care. Jigen's warm, and the scent of tabacco wafts from the pack when he passes it to his partner, soothing.]

And be takers in this give-and-take kind of society? The very dregs of the social ladder, delinquents? [though he clicks his tongue, nothing can hide the amused look on his face] I think I've got some glue stuff in my shoes, I could put it on all the seats I suppose.

[ The mild look of disgust that comes from the second half of Lupin's response is dampened by a cig, no protest on Jigen's end about the brand. Gitanes are too thick for Jigen's liking, but even the consistency of the smokes fits in with the general running theme: slow and syrupy, like molasses. He fumbles for a lighter and finds it somewhere in the pile of clothes that they've accumulated, flicks a quick light and breathes smoke up and into the ceiling, ear against Lupin's ear. ]

That's disgusting. And think twice about involving me in your weird fetish junk.

[ In case Lupin wanted to know what Jigen thinks about that suggestion, if the grimace pressed near his jaw didn't tip him off. Courtesy has him draw back so he doesn't spill ash on his partner's exposed shoulder, letting flecks of gray fall, instead, onto already-grimy flooring.

He reaches for Lupin, brushes coarse fingers along the thief's hairline to wipe a bead of sweat off his sideburns. ]

—You know that there's a word in Japanese that's specifically for dying on top of someone during sex?

[ Drawled so, so casually. He's pretty sure that Lupin knows every word in every language that pertains to sex, though. ]

[Molasses is right. Smoopy and lazy and too warm over bones and cells, sinking into everything. Weightless, but weighty of living. Though he doesn't feel like a smoke just yet, himself, he inhales deeply of the smoke Jigen releases, and sighs happily. The hand swiping down his sideburns is nice, he turns his face into Jigen's hand, then laughs. He can count on his Voice of Reason to take the fun out of his bucket list.]

You mean you don't want me to do you against a building on the verge of collapse? While we're on the verge of collapse? Really? No fun.

[he's sure it'll eventually happen, to be honest. It's just a matter of time. Such a word, that should be morbid as hell, filthy, just makes Lupin warm all over, especially knowing Jigen of all people knows. He feigns unfamiliarity, brows raised.]

You don't say. What is it? I might know it, but I need a reminder.

[deft hands return to Jigen's back, curl beneath his open shirt to trace along the planes of his shoulders and his spine, ever so slowly.]

Goemon's not gonna stick around to read us the eulogy if that's the way we're gonna go out.

[ He expels a curl of smoke right into Lupin's face as a warning against wandering hands (what a killjoy), but obliges the verbal teasing with a shift of legs against legs, with a subtle repositioning so that they're facing each other a little more properly. He's been around Lupin for long enough that there are some things he's willing to play along with, no matter how ridiculous.

An index finger finds an open spot along Lupin's collarbone, slowly traces the outline of Japanese over still-flushed skin. ]

And the word is "fukujoushi". Written with the characters for "stomach", "over", and "death".

[ He laughs. ] Probably what you're gonna get engraved on your tombstone.

[He opens his mouth to the dissipating smoke, lets a wisp curl between his teeth, and does indeed let his hands pause. For the moment. At least to give his partner a subtle squeeze to the small of his back, the knocking of their legs all the more subtle. A full body shudder seizes his body, one calloused trigger finger over bone and skin, searing hot and reaching to his core. He knows the word, knows every bit of it, and his eyelashes flutter accordingly, mouth suddenly a little dry.

Jigen's probably going to be annoyed but...he can't resist! So, knees shifting up, Lupin slides plop right into his partner's lap. Nimble fingers hardly leave the raised lines of scars across Jigen's back.]

No, he'd probably make something up or talk for ten minutes about how dignity is more important than a good blow before you go. [His voice lowers at least two octaves, a rumble] Mmm, yeah, that sounds familiar. Wouldn't be a bad way to go, almost up there with 'during a heist' or something.

[ The word has dozens of little strokes, up to down, left to right. He grunts when Lupin moves mid-writing and shakes the line of his invisible handwriting, but like a parent with a particularly clingy child, he lets Lupin climb over and up, lets him emulate the first two characters of the Japanese he's writing: "stomach" and "over".

A raise of the brow under disheveled bangs sends another quiet chastisement— what did I say about Round 2?— but aside from the usual sullenness, he remains, perhaps surprisingly, docile.

(Decades running around with this guy could do that to any previously war-torn wolf, he figures.) ]

Hah, no one'd believe you if you "died" during a heist. How many times have you done that already, anyway.

[ Finishing the last of it, Jigen slaps the back of his hand against the hard jut of Lupin's collarbone, then winds the arm loosely around his neck. ]

[Lupin makes himself comfortable with, surprisingly, minimal wiggling or scooting his ass against Jigen's lap, just gazes at him with wonder and delight. Arms now wound around Jigen's middle, nimble fingers creep beneath his shirt again, the pads tracing la petite mort or a little death down the curve of his spine.

Perfectly innocent, this one.]

You never know. Some day it might just sneak up on me-- if I can help it, I'd rather die during sex. I've lost count, anyway.

[Lupin's world drowsily narrows down to the point where Jigen's arm touches his skin and the little trails of smoke that leave the now soft line of his mouth. Lupin leans in to catch them.]

Edited 2015-02-11 10:47 (UTC)

[ "I've lost count", he says, and Jigen might have been irritated if that reaction wasn't more of the usual. For now, he's too lazy to make a comment about how Lupin better give a heads-up next time, or how it'd be better if Lupin died during sex; Jigen'd actually be able to keep an eye on him, if that were the case. He's too lazy and it never works, and he's supposed to be the one who silently sighs and waits for his partner's dumb monkey face to pop up out of a corner again.

Instead of kicking Lupin's ass (this time, this one time, he'll let the guy off the hook), Jigen lets Lupin move closer, tickles Lupin's bare forehead with the thick padding of his bangs. ]

Do it with Fujiko, then. I don't want to be the one having to answer for that one.

[ Fingers crawling under his shirt are met with a light rock of his weight backwards, an attempt to squash meandering hands between the small of his back and the chair cushion. Strangely playful. ]

[The thought of all these damn assassins after his partners ass, how they'd never know how soft the others hair is against foreheads or cheeks or shoulders, makes him shudder internally, though a giggle springs to the surface-- he nuzzles his forehead the slightest, the smooziest, into the movement.]

Nah, Fujiko's got to live on and continue our legacy. And cry her heart out over my grave, maybe wear a short skirt so I can see her panties from Hell.

[Rakes his nails in retaliation over Jigen's shoulder blades, though not hard at all. He won't ask him to die with him, Lupin doesn't want that (and hasn't he always been the selfish one, doing what he wants despite the voice of reason? The very thought of it makes the very blood in his veins chill), he won't ask him what he'll do after-- he knows, from watching with a hawks eyes, after one of his many, many 'deaths' just what his gang does. So there's just this, now, for however long. He rotates his foot as they sit and cud-- manishly...chillax.]

Make sure you talk about how great I am. And how sexy I am, and how pops never got one up on me for long. Also talk about my great ass and legs for miles. Don't let Goemon cry too much...alright?

[ He's not exactly thrilled with the direction of conversation— Lupin's always so damn selfish about this, expecting them all to go through the same theatrics, thinking this is all just the obligatory dramatic episode in an ongoing sitcom— but he dutifully puts up with it, resigned because no one else could put up with this constant headache like he can. At least, that's what he chooses to believe, chooses to place a degree of pride in.

The initial response to all of these demands is a light headbutt, foreheads that were pressed together coming apart for the moment it takes for Jigen to tap it back into place. ]

You wish. I'll buy the cheapest red wine I can find and pour it over your discount tombstone.

[ So cruel. This is a warning, Lupin the Third. And after a beat, he appends: ]

Italian wine.

[ Not even French wine, this threat is real. ]

[He goes cross eyed for a split second, tongue between his teeth, before his gaze focuses back on Jigen, lips downturned thanks to a pout. And here he (wasn't) expecting something touching! Lupin's lips twitch, though, the very betrayal of a grin attempting to overcome him.]

The cheapest Italian wine?! I thought better of you, man! I thought you were my buddy, I thought you knew me after all these years...the travesty.

[He leans back a little to look Jigen in the eyes, bushy bangs still sliding along his hair line, hands clasped around the other's ribs.]

Not even something from Gevrey-Chambertin...? That's cruel! Heartless, cold, soulless! My ghost is gonna haunt you forever, even to the toilet.

[ There we go: punishment. Even the mom of the group is sometimes entitled to have fun at their infant's expense (disregarding the fact that "mom" is also an infant).

The crowded theater chair creaks in protest when Jigen bumps Lupin on his knee, groans at these two full-sized men trying to make a nest out of these seat cushions. Jigen would be inclined to show a little more compassion towards his surroundings, if Lupin wasn't blatantly ignoring them and trying to convince Jigen that his whining requires Jigen's full attention. ]

Then you'll just have to tell your ghost self that you should have thought about how heartless I am before you up and got yourself killed.

[ Be practical, Lupin. The arm slung around Lupin's neck drags lower, forearms riding up the ridge of protruding shoulderblades while a thumb and forefinger pinches at the sensitive layer of skin on Lupin's side. ]

[Lupin wishes these chairs could recline back. They'd be comfy as hell, not squished as squished can be...but he doesn't mind so much, even when Jigen's being a rude shit. His limbs are even more noodley and clinging around his partner than usual and he shifts again upon the bump he's given, slides around so his knees bracket Jigen's hips, arms around his chest. Lupin knows he's only saying this because he doesn't want to do this, despite the inevitability. He opens his mouth to protest, he should be saying sutras for him and engraving his coffin with tits, but a sharp pain in his side interrupts--]

OWOWOWOW-- WHAT THE HELL! [he squirms up, and rocks back dangerously, spine bowed back as he slaps a hand against Jigen's chest]

It's not like I purposely go hey, deadly and creepy assassins, why don't you challenge me while I'm working and see if you can kill me! Unlike some assholes I know. [scowl] My ghost is gonna give you so much trouble you'll rue the day you disrespected my will.

I don't challenge them, they challenge me. And they ain't very deadly, judging by the fact that I'm still here.

[ Just saying. It's not like he goes around asking sketchy people to remember him, alright... especially that one weird guy with the weird yo-yo weapons?? Where the fuck Jigen even met that guy or had an opportunity to is anyone's guess.

While Lupin is squirming on him like a cat protesting a bath, Jigen leans forward and pops his chin on his partner's shoulder, settling in that little dip, the comfortable hollow, to fix one eye on the movie that's still playing. Some character he doesn't recognize is being outed as the villain, he's missed so much. ]

You already give me enough trouble, dead or alive. No way you can give me more.

They're deadly to two bit assassins and gunmen alike. Not for you, never for you.

[Badassary: Confirmed! Tell him something he doesn't know. Lupin should've shoved the yoyos up that guys ass after everything was said and done, how lame. Jigen would've been happy with that outcome, right.

The familiar weight and pressed or that bushy chin on his shoulder, tickling the hell out of his neck and jawline, stills him in his tracks. He huffs, a sigh and a chuckle all in one, then sinks into the motion, arms hooked around Jigen's ribs once more. Accepting the warmth and the smooze. He'll get him back later, for now, he'll just close his eyes and listen to Jigen's reedy breathing and His Girls.]

I'm sure I would in any incarnation, and I'm sure you'd gladly kick my ass too. Never say never, though~~

[ It's kind of Lupin that he doesn't mention all the times that Jigen almost has gotten himself killed, only to be bailed out in some way. ...By Lupin. So maybe it would have been nice to see Lupin fisting some guy with gigantic yo-yos, if only to prove that his partner does have Jigen's back? On second thought, let's not think about that.

For now, Jigen is a big bony hug pillow (the most manly one money can't buy), and Lupin is a big convenient heating pad. Extremities wind around Lupin as if they're meant to be there, his bones fitting like Jenga blocks against Lupin's, he only half-watches as buildings and cars explode in ways that he's already seen numerous, countless times in real life. These things are pedestrian by now. ]

Yeah, I spoke too soon. How the hell are we going to leave here like this.

[ Pants rumpled, probably dirty, shirts damp with sweat and sex-mussed hair. The signs are obvious.

As he says so, he reaches down, down, with difficulty, to pluck one of their jackets off the floor and onto Lupin's back, like an impromptu cape. ]

[Jigen is surprisingly comfortable! Maybe it's from the years and years of hedging and hawing and getting the gunman to cave or maybe it's because they just fit together, perfectly, meant. Or something not as corny as that. They're way too manly to admit to the snuggling aloud, or the smooze which practically drips from their limbs.

Nah, Jigen's too warm, and the low rumble of his voice where they're pressed together vibrates right through Lupin, right into his bones, and he curls up against him like a cat. He's practically at purring-level, here. Humming lightly, he shakes his head, lets his cheeks nuzzle Jigen when he answers drowsily--]

Dunno. I wouldn't worry about it, though. We can always say this is a second honeymoon, acting like teenagers...or I could set off the fire alarm. Everyone'll be concerned with fire safety rather than your messy pants.

[Too many times in compromising positions (with or without Jigen) has Lupin pretty casual about this. It's almost amusing how concerned Jigen is if he wasn't going to get an ass kicking for that.]

[ If anyone asks, this is just a substitute for poor central heating. Lupin even sounds like a radiator, the clicking and humming emulating comfortable noise while Jigen idly pads out the rhythm of the background music along the thief's spine. Up, down, tap tap. ]

Don't know how I always get suckered into your harebrained ideas. The couch and the TV would have been the same thing for less trouble.

[ Ever-practical, Jigen Daisuke. He polishes the ridge of Lupin's shoulderblades with the same level of attention he gives his .357, the side of a calloused thumb tracing a beloved curve that he's already committed to muscle memory. Lupin's weight is one that's become familiar through circumstance and exploration, a weight he's carried on his back (through fields of landmines), against his back (on a mattress, on a bed).

He's not sentimental enough to think about being disappointed that they'll have to pry themselves off of each other once the movie's done (Tuff Guy that he is), but he's grudgingly accepted that he's fine with this for however long they have left. ]

What's the occasion, anyway.

[Okay, that felt damn nice. Lupin's shoulders slump thanks to Jigen's attention, and instead of any kind of uncomfortable heaviness, his limbs are a satisfying kind of heavy, sleepwarm. He drags a featherlight trail of his pinky up and down Jigen's spine, following the curve and dipping out to scratch a nail across the occasional raised flesh. A faithful trail, the guiding light. Jigen's sides are soft where his knees dig in.]

Mmm, but this way we don't have to deal with the judgmental eyes of the cockblocking toaster samurai. He's loaned me way too many books on the sly lately. I think he's trying to say something.

[Tilting his head, his temple rests against Jigen's, and he really is purring at this point. And sentimental. Internally. How many days do they steal for moments like these?]

Maybe it's someone's birthday.

Edited 2015-02-14 04:21 (UTC)

[ For all of Jigen's insisting that he'll always be a guy delegated to the dregs of society, he does astonishingly well in the quiet moments. While his partner takes to the role of the cat that's sleeping on your keyboard— a disgustingly adorable inconvenience— Jigen returns the gesture in kind with an absentminded scratch to the "scruff" of Lupin's neck. The fine hairs along the nape feel good, something to occupy himself with. ]

You too, huh. His books keep getting more and more extreme— which one'd you get.

[ He's guessing something like "How to Clean Your Own Damn Underwear: An Illustrated Guide". Goemon shouldn't complain, just because he wears fundoshis and has to be conscientious about that sort of stuff...

The statement about birthdays prompts a soft laugh, beard resting comfortably on Lupin's shoulder, in a place he knows won't tickle or scratch. He's had practice. ]

If it's anyone's birthday, it's yours. You got everything you planned for.

[Yup, the noises he's making are absolutely purrs and little Mrrs under his breath, low and deep. His head lolls to one side so Jigen's fingers can reach every nook and cranny and scratchy roots. His eyes haven't opened once, and the fingers he's trailing down Jigen's back, lower and lower, get slower as time goes on.]

He's got to have at least five credit cards on 'em by now. I got 'This Is What STDs do to the Human Body: 101'. Along with 'Monogamy: A Life's Work'. Not very creative at all. Minus ten points.

[Is that what Jigen got? Lupin's perfectly innocent in this because his do get washed! ...When he remembers or has time or when it's either commando or a fundoshi.

Lupin hums a negative.]

No way, I'd remember my own birthday. Remember last years? Because I sure don't remember a lot of it. Maybe it's yours.

[ Jigen has a feeling he might have to carry a sleeping Lupin out of here, which is even more suspect than the both of them stumbling out in disheveled clothes... but a part of him doesn't mind it, like the dozens of other times he hemmed and hawwed and carried Lupin out of bars. Two guys who should be too old for piggybacks, doing it in the name of love.

Because that's the word, really. A big hand goes on Lupin's head and pats once, twice. He won't pretend that this isn't endearing. ]

Monogamy. [ What a concept. Breathing a warm snort into Lupin's hair, he thinks about how Goemon's training is going to last a fucking lifetime, if he considers reforming either of them a part of it. ] He gave me "Loving or Clingy?: How to Spot the Signs".

[ He's not sure which one of them that book applies to, actually. ]

—Don't tell me it's actually my birthday, by the way.

[ Meaning, he hasn't looked at a calendar in ages and went day to day operating on Lupin's schedule; that, and he forgets his own birthdays more often than not. ]

[It's either that or pretend he's drunk and blacked out, which is just as suspect-- just how did he get that much alcohol into the theater? Where did he store it all? The mysteries of the universe, or the public, anyway. He'll never tell unless the bragging rights are over the top.

All's fair in love and being gross. Lupin makes a pleased little noise, noses along Jigen's jawline. The snort tickles, but he moves into it, stifles a snicker. Glee and sleepiness all in one.]

Right. [Clearly in agreement. Goemon's boned. Maybe they need to set him up on blind dates?] Hmm, that's rude. Don't worry, Jigen, I know you're just tsundere for me. I don't mind.

[Again just, ASSuming. To be an ass.]

Could be yours. What if it was? Was it a happy one? It could also be Goemon's and we're saving him some future bald spots.

[Just imagine him sitting at home, perfectly happy and content to not knock against the wall warningly, menace permeating through the very brick and stone]

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covers face with hands i hope this is?????????/

PERFECT??? YEAH, IT IS

sCREAMS

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