when the gales of November come early (kishmet) wrote,
when the gales of November come early

Fic: Mine

So I was wondering if anyone's scanned the doujinshi Smile of Negative Film (Fuji/Eiji, by E-Plus) or Dangan Liner (Yamabuki, TezuRyo, Fuji/Eiji, by Point Out). I was thinking of scanning them myself, but I'm not going to kill the spines of these things if someone has already. XD Also, fic!

Mine, by kishmet. MomoKai, PG, 2,200 words. It all starts when Kaidoh starts walking around in Momo's underwear. Yes, this is crazy, but I felt like writing something. :P

Living in an apartment with Kaidoh was okay.

It was surprisingly okay, in fact. Momo had assumed that living with Kaidoh would be just as stupid as everything else about Kaidoh, but as it turned out, living with Kaidoh wasn’t stupid at all. Mostly.

Kaidoh knew how to cook, while Momo did not, which meant that Kaidoh produced supper for the two of them every night, and sometimes breakfast. Kaidoh also knew how to organize dresser drawers and closets, how to buy curtains that matched the rug, and how to do the laundry.

Actually, Momo knew how to do laundry too, but he’d told Kaidoh he didn’t, with very satisfactory results.

Another good thing about living with Kaidoh was that they could fight whenever they wanted, and there was no one around to order them to do laps or something equally unappealing. They’d only had to stop fighting once in the whole time they’d had the apartment, and that was because the police had showed up and charged them with disturbing the peace. Sitting in a jail cell with an angry Kaidoh wasn’t quite as good as living with Kaidoh in general, but it wasn’t as bad as sitting in a jail cell with, say, Fuji-senpai, with whom Momo most certainly did not want to be trapped in a small space.

Also (and this was the bit Momo would never admit to anyone, though at one point several months down the road he would get drunk and confess to Eiji, which meant that everyone within a ten mile radius of Tokyo knew about the whole thing), Kaidoh walked around in his underwear a lot. Kaidoh, it seemed, disliked normal clothing so much that he took it off whenever he could, leaving only his boxer shorts and sometimes socks on his person. He often came out to breakfast with only his underwear on, and a lot of the time when Momo came home, Kaidoh had already stripped down and sprawled on the couch with a drink.

This was another advantage of living with Kaidoh, because it meant that not only did Momo get to gape slack-jawed at him every time he walked by like that, there was also a lot less fabric between Momo’s hands and Kaidoh’s skin. Momo considered walking around in his underwear too, since it would equal even less fabric between them, but decided in the end that he didn’t want Kaidoh staring at him the way Momo stared at Kaidoh.

So living with Kaidoh was okay, until the day Kaidoh started wearing Momo’s underwear.

Momo was minding his own business, looking in all the cupboards to see if there was anything both tasty and edible left (coming up with nothing, which was unsurprising given the size of his midnight snack the night before), when Kaidoh walked into the kitchen. “There’s half a carton of ice cream in the freezer,” he told Momo gruffly, heading over to the silverware drawer.

“Oh, tha-” That was when Momo actually looked over at Kaidoh and saw that Kaidoh was, without a doubt, wearing Momo’s underwear. “Hey!” he said indignantly. “Those are mine!” He waved vaguely in the direction of the boxer shorts, hoping that what he was saying wouldn’t be misconstrued as a declaration of ownership of something else entirely.

Kaidoh glanced down at his (Momo’s) underwear. “Yeah. I’m doing the laundry right now.”

“Well, don’t wear my boxers while you’re doing it!” They were Momo’s favorite boxers, too, the ones with cartoon puppies all over them. He hadn’t realized that Kaidoh knew he owned them.

“If you would do your own laundry, I would have some clean ones of my own!” Kaidoh snapped.

“You know I don’t know how to work that stupid machine,” Momo said reproachfully, lying through his teeth.

“No, I know that you do, and you’re pretending not to so you can get out of doing laundry!”

Oh. So Kaidoh knew about that, too. Momo wondered which of his other secrets Kaidoh knew about, but couldn’t come up with a complete list of possibilities because he didn’t always bother to remember things that were secret anyway. “I do not,” he said, in a weak defense that would do him absolutely no good.

Kaidoh snorted and pulled the silverware drawer open with more force than was strictly necessary. Then he turned and glowered at Momo. “There aren’t any forks in here.”

Somehow, Momo didn’t think that claiming he’d forgotten how to use the dishwasher would work. He was right.


“What the hell are you doing?”

Kaidoh towered in the doorway, more than six feet of solid muscle, or so Momo liked to think, and to brag about to the Gay Tennis Players Anonymous forum online. “’m brushin’ m’teeth,” Momo mumbled, and leaned over to spit into the sink.

“I knew that!” Kaidoh folded his arms and made it clear that he wasn’t going to let Momo out of the bathroom without a fight. “Why are you using my toothbrush?”

Momo stared at him. “Because you’re wearing my boxers, you dumbass! Jeez.” He deliberately put the toothbrush back into his mouth and started brushing as hard as possible in order to fray the bristles.

“Stop that, you moron, I just bought that one!” Kaidoh lunged for him.

Momo had been ready for an assault of some kind, and he danced away with the toothbrush held between his teeth. He managed to avoid tripping on the shower mat, but he accidentally knocked the box of tissues off of the counter.

Kaidoh proceeded to stumble over the box of tissues, which could have been a good thing or a bad thing; it was kind of funny to see Kaidoh windmilling to regain his balance, but it wasn’t so great that Kaidoh stumbled to a point from which he could grab Momo’s arm. Kaidoh, of course, took advantage of that position.

“Ow, hey, leggo,” Momo protested, twisting away from Kaidoh’s iron grip on his wrist.

“Not until you give my toothbrush back,” said Kaidoh grimly.

“Then give me back my underwear!” Momo retorted.

“Then start doing your own laundry!” said Kaidoh.

A tussle ensued. Momo most certainly wasn’t going to agree to start doing his own laundry, not when Kaidoh already did it so well, and Kaidoh clearly wasn’t going to let him get away with that. In the end, both of them got their respective possessions back, Momo finished brushing his teeth with his own toothbrush, and Kaidoh stalked off in a huff to put on some pants.

But that was really only the beginning.


“These cups are mine,” Kaidoh informed Momo, moving all the pretty, translucent plastic cups to one side of the cupboard. “Don’t use them.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” said Momo. “Why do you get those ones?”

“My parents gave them to us,” said Kaidoh.

“It’s still not fair.”

“If you do your own laundry, you can use them again.” Kaidoh took out one of the cups, the green one, Momo’s favorite (for reasons that had nothing to do with Kaidoh’s usual choice of bandana), and poured himself a cup of milk.

Momo retaliated by opening the plate cupboard and pulling out the stack of plates his aunt had given them as a housewarming gift. “Well, fine. These are my plates, then.”

Kaidoh glanced over. “You hate those.”

Momo looked down at the plates. They were printed with a delicate floral design, which happened to be in pink. The things that happened when your family thinks you’re gay, he thought, entirely ignoring the fact that he and Kaidoh engaged in less-than-platonic activities on a regular basis. Clearly they fought way too much to be gay, and said less-than-platonic activities generally occurred as a direct result of their fighting, which meant they didn’t count.

Or so Momo tried to make himself believe, anyway.

“I don’t hate them, I like them,” said Momo. “And they’re mine, anyway.” He made sure that the plates in the cupboard were evenly split into two categories: Momo’s, and the ones that weren’t Kaidoh’s but that Kaidoh could use anyway. Kaidoh, meanwhile, split the fridge into food that he’d paid for and was therefore his, and food that Momo could eat.

Momo later surveyed the fridge in dismay, noting that the food he could eat amounted to a can of pineapple juice and three Oreos that shouldn’t have been in the fridge in the first place.


Momo figured out how to get his own back after an hour or so. “This is mine,” he announced, unplugging the Wii and carrying it off to hide it somewhere good. The only place he could find was the linen closet, and no one besides Kaidoh ever went in there anyway. Also, it would be difficult to play with the thing if it wasn’t plugged into the television, so Momo returned it to its old spot.

“I never play that anyway, you moron,” said Kaidoh.

“You do with me,” Momo pointed out. “Now I’ll just invite Echizen over to play or something. What do you think of that?”

“I think you’re an idiot,” said Kaidoh.

“Well, I’m an idiot who’s got the gaming system,” said Momo triumphantly, and started playing just so that Kaidoh would see how much fun he was missing.


The towels were all Kaidoh’s, which became a problem only after Momo took a shower and found that he had nothing to dry himself with. Momo remembered, as he stood dripping on the tile floor, that he had purchased the shower mat, though, and so he attempted to dry himself with that. It didn’t go as well as he’d hoped, but at least he was dry enough that he didn’t quite look like he’d taken a shower with all of his clothes on.

Kaidoh snorted when he saw Momo, though, which instigated yet another fight and left them both with black eyes. Who those were owned by was unclear, but even Momo knew that was just too stupid to argue about.


Going out for sushi with the old team was probably not the best idea when they were in the middle of an ongoing fight like this one, but Momo and Kaidoh were not generally known for having the best ideas, especially not when they were too busy glowering at each other to think straight.

“Eiji-senpai’s mine!” Momo slung his arm possessively around Eiji’s shoulders. “And Echizen, too,” he added as an afterthought. Echizen scooted away quickly enough to avoid being caught.

“…what?” said Oishi, blinking.

“Idiot, you can’t own people,” said Kaidoh in disgust.

“I’ll be Kaidoh’s,” said Fuji and Inui, almost simultaneously. Fuji smiled, Inui’s glasses glinted, and Kaidoh looked understandably nervous.

“Uh, maybe we shouldn’t-” Momo began, rethinking his course of action.

“You started it,” said Echizen, and Momo cursed the fact that he’d already claimed the little brat.


Dinner itself wasn’t much better, what with Momo claiming every bit of food that he touched was his, and Kaidoh making strange faces because of something weird Fuji and Inui were doing underneath the table. Momo felt the urge to announce that Kaidoh was his, dammit, but he had the vague idea that such a proclamation would defeat the point.

On the plus side, Eiji didn’t seem to mind being Momo’s, and was all over him all evening. Oishi, however, looked a little put-out the entire time, though he cheered up once they migrated outside and Eiji started hanging on his shoulders instead.


“The sheets are mine,” said Kaidoh, when they got home.

“Oh,” said Momo, and took his pillow and blankets out to the couch, which was owned by both of them and was therefore neutral territory.


Momo glumly sat up that night playing Wii tennis. The couch wasn’t very comfortable, and there was no Kaidoh on it to elbow him in the stomach whenever he rolled over too far. Also, there was no Kaidoh for Momo to poke in the ribs for trying to cuddle too much.

By quarter past five, Momo was still awake, though he couldn’t play videogames anymore because he’d gotten a killer headache. He was laying on the couch, switching positions every ten seconds. The springs kept jabbing him in the back, and not in a good, Kaidoh-esque way, either.


“Huh?” Momo opened his eyes and blinked. Kaidoh was standing behind the couch, glowering down at him.

“You’re making too much noise. Just come to bed if you’re not going to stop moving around,” Kaidoh growled, and stomped back to the bedroom.

Momo grinned slowly, and then scrambled off the couch to trot after Kaidoh. They started fighting again, of course, but this time their fight came to its usual, satisfying, less-than-platonic conclusion.

“Hey,” said Momo, later. “You can play Wii tennis with me tomorrow, if you want.”

“Shut up and go to sleep,” said Kaidoh, and elbowed Momo in the stomach.


The next day Momo got Kaidoh to teach him how to do the laundry (not that he needed the instructions, but it was best to keep up with the pretense he’d started with), and Kaidoh wore his own boxer shorts around the house. They both worked on the dishes, Kaidoh gave the towels back, and then they played Wii tennis. Momo won, although Kaidoh would later claim that he had, which was clearly a lie.

In other words, life was good. Or at least it was until Kaidoh noticed the frayed bristles on his toothbrush.

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