Prompt: 021 ~ Pack                                                                                                                                                        May 2011©
Fandom: The GazettE
Focus: Uruha x Leslie
Word Count: 702

            “You are not packing a soccer ball,” Uruha stated.

            Leslie looked at him incredulously, her hands on her hip and her ball tucked under her arm. “Boris is coming.”

            “Boris?”

            “My soccer ball has a name.”

            “You named a soccer ball?”

            “Not a soccer ball, this soccer ball,” Leslie corrected. “And I didn’t name him, David Beckham named it. He signed it too.”

            “David Beckham?”

            “He’s a brit, a pro footballer,” Leslie explained offhandedly, as she renewed her efforts to get the soccer ball into her suitcase.

            “You are not packing a soccer ball.”

            “Boris.”

            “You are not packing Boris.”

            “Well, it’s not like I can just put it in the carry-on!” Leslie retorted, huffing as she squished all of the clothes in her suitcase around the ball. Their incredibly short flight to Seoul, Korea was so short they weren’t allowed more than one bag.

            One bag.

            Everything that the GazettE would need for their ‘impromptu’ performance in Seoul, all the make-up, costumes, instrumental accessories and whatnot, needed to fit into one bag each.

            Leslie’s was already half-full with overflow from Uruha’s. She huffed, giving up for the moment. “Are you sure that you need this cape-skirt thingy?”

            “It’s dramatic,” Uruha whined.

            “It’s big.”

            “That’s why it’s dramatic.”

            “That’s why Boris can’t fit.”

            “Boris doesn’t have to fit.”

            “It’s coming with us.”

            “You can’t really pack a soccer ball!”

            “You can’t pack a cape-skirt-thingy!” Leslie countered, “I had to do it for you!”

            Uruha was entirely unapologetic. “It had to be packed.”

            “Boris needs to be packed.”

            “It’s a soccer ball.”

            “It needs to be packed.”

            Uruha pouted. “You can’t un-pack my clothes!” he whined, adding, “I need them!”

            He clung tightly to Leslie’s elbow as she went about shuffling the contents of her suitcase again. Leslie shoved him off as she pulled a few things out. Uruha kept his hold on Leslie, shifting his grip to wringing at the edges of her t-shirt.

            “Stop being such a diva,” Leslie said, smacking him away. In the end of pulling things out and leaving a small pile on the floor, Leslie was left with only the clothes she was wearing a change of underwear and an oversize t-shirt in addition to Uruha’s things. But Boris fit neatly inside with the guitarist’s gear. Leslie had nothing to wear to the show.

            It didn’t bother her one bit. “I’ll just steal a dress from Nana for the night,” Leslie sighed. “Though, you just know that Kitty will end up with a few extras. Reita always shoves in something he wants her to wear.”

            “Eventually, Kitty’s going to give in to him.”

            “Kitty’s too fluffy for that.”

            “I think Kitty could pull of some slink,” Uruha commented.

            “You think everyone can pull of slink,” Leslie retorted.

            “Everyone can.”

            “I can’t, slink makes me look fat,” Leslie complained.

            Soothingly, Uruha said, “You can’t look fat, you don’t have an ounce of fat on your body.”

            Leslie brushed him off dryly, “No, I have muscle. It’s worse.”

            “It’s not worse, it’s sexy.” The guitarist looked down at his own thighs as he said so, gaze drifting over the skin exposed under slinky wrappings of leather and latex. They were well-muscled in their own right, and internationally renowned as a sex symbol.

            Leslie just sighed. “You’re such a diva, you know that? You’re just saying that to make yourself feel better, aren’t you? My sexiness aside, you want muscle and slink to be sexy.”

            “Not exclusively.”

            At Uruha’s pout, Leslie couldn’t help but laugh. “Whatever, at least Boris fits. Nana can wear Kitty’s slink, and I can wear whatever she doesn’t. And I’ve still got a t-shirt for bedtime!”

            “I still can’t believe you actually packed a soccer ball.”

            “Boris.”



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