"I also ship Jun/Maria but that’s another story for another time. What is also another story for another time is what Maria would be like in a 6nin band of women not so unlike KAT-TUN like can you imagine, she’d be my favourite firecracker and no one would be able to— yes yes story for another time. that’s all <3" Is it another time yet~?
AHHH~~ hi <3 Ok, ok so basically in my google documents right now is roughly about 5k of an AU where KAT-TUN is a 6nin girlband and they’re off to New York to do some dance lessons with a renowned male choreographer. It is not finished but I think it is another time to share with you, my dear; some fun tid bits so you know what’s coming to you.
So just for asking, I give you TWO drabbles that part of the whole sum to come in a manner of weeks
1. Tatsumi devolved into abrupt paroxysms of gleeful giggles, and Yuka’s rare smile appeared but she wasn’t watching the screen.
Jun sort of wished someone she knew would look at her like that.
That affirming thought took a quick sidestep when a head of artificial blonde curls dropped into the seat in front of them along with the fruity waft of just-sprayed on Ed Hardy perfume. Jun saw one of Maria’s big. long-lashed brown eyes peer through the crack between seats. She looked at Jun in passing, but her gaze zeroed in on Yuka. “The flight stewards on this airline are so not as advertised,” she announced.
Yuka offered a noncommittal sound to that. “I haven’t been looking actually.”
Maria shook her head so that every single dangling accessory on her jingled. “You’re not missing much. They look nothing like the movies,” she whispered through the little gap between seats, grinning a very special secret. “Anyway, what would I even do with myself if I met a real-life Channing Tatum on a plane.”
Jun wasn’t sure what a Channing Tatum was. It sounded both foreign and inappropriate.
She looked to Yuka for answers. Yuka was busy looking skittishly around for Kazuko.
“But ohhh,” Maria sighed throatily and Jun could hear her slide down in her seat a bit. She also noted the American-looking passenger beside Maria and his mounting discomfort. “I’d go mile-high for a piece of that meat.”
“Maria,” Yuka said through her teeth, glancing around as if the other passengers around could even understand Japanese.
Jun was beginning to feel like she couldn’t either. What were all these new words?
Only Yuka could deftly twist a tendril of hair around her finger and tuck it under another with outrage and remonstrance without hurting the head they belonged to.
Tatsumi remained serene, squinting at the subtitles on her American film. Maria’s head popped over the seat and she was smiling particularly at Yuka, charmed as she always was by anyone with a severe tone.
“The real deal’s gotta be better than just imagining sitting on Channing Tatum’s —”
“Maria!” Yuka ground out, about to rise from her seat and literally clap a hand over Maria’s mouth.
Maria laughed easily, her deeply glossed lower lip caught between her teeth. “No one else can understand me anyway.”
The man beside her tentatively raised his hand, looking sheepish. “I can,” he said in fluent Japanese.
Maria’s eyes lit up and she swivelled on him, sliding into her seat. “Oh? D’you like Channing Tatum?”
The seatbelt light had come on and the pilot was droning into the cabin speakers. Jun slipped her seatbelt on, watching Maria chat animatedly with her new best friend whom she hadn’t said a word edgewise to before this moment.
Jun frowned and felt a pair of eyes on her. She turned and Yuka was looking at her from across the aisle, her stare quite meaningful.
“What’s a Channing Tatum?” Jun whispered at her, floored when Yuka ignored the query.
“We’ll talk when we get to the hotel,” Yuka mouthed instead.
Jun sighed and reached for a skymall magazine, hoping she would recognise any letters that might sound vaguely like a ‘Channing Tatum’. Maybe if she knew, Maria might not mind that Yuka had surreptitiously delegated her to Maria Watch.
Perhaps, if it was inexpensive, she could even buy her one.
2. “Must she wear those shorts every rehearsal. There are men here.” Yuka whispers, her tone tremulous. “Just look.”
Jun is already looking. Has been looking for years. Maria has her hands on her hips as the choreographer instructs, but she does a little hip dance, smiling coyly at her reflection as her thighs rub together while her exposed tummy does a slow wave. Jun bites her lip and Yuka rubs her wrists fretfully.
"She can wear what she wants," Jun informs Yuka. She doesn’t know why Yuka worries about what Maria wears; she doesn’t comment on any of the others. It’s weird.
The choreographer twists and spots Maria’s hip dance, which was obviously Maria’s intention as she wrinkles her nose and smirks impishly. The choreographer smiles and sidles toward her, reaches out to hold Maria’s hips still. Yuka makes a low sound like she’s humming or revving up her disapproval engine. Jun doesn’t care; her palms are stinging. Maria follows the choreographer’s movement, giggling helplessly when the choreographer spins her. “Who on earth needs a special request tutorial for a pirouette,” Yuka mutters.
"I could’ve tutored her," Jun responds, wondering whether Maria got another tattoo because she could swear she just saw a hint of blue petal peeking out the back of Maria’s shorts. "My pirouettes are perfect."
"I hate those heels," Yuka says. "She could probably do them easier if she didn’t wear spike heels like that.".
—
LIKE TELL ME MARIA IS NOT MAGIC!!
