Prompt: 084 ~ Restrain May 2011©
Fandom: Alice Nine
Focus: Tora x Namie
Word Count: 1,249
Fandom: Alice Nine
Focus: Tora x Namie
Word Count: 1,249
The hardest part of the filming process for Tora was never the filming part.
The hard part was never the getting the fingering right part, never the hitting his marks perfectly part, or the making sure that his acting was exactly what was needed of him part. The hard part was the waiting.
During the time that it took to reset after a take, or the time that it took his bandmates to film, Tora had nothing to do but wait, and it drove him up the walls. And for music videos like the one they had filmed for Blue Flame, and the one they were filming now, it was especially difficult because he wasn’t just waiting. He was wet and waiting.
Nothing would ever make him admit it, but he was cold. And being bored and cold and antsy drove him crazy. There was nothing to be done about it though. First off to admit that he was cold would have been to show weakness, and he wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it anyway. Being cold and bored and wet and waiting was simply a part of the filming process and it was a state of being that he simply had to bear with until his scenes had been finished off and he could leave the set entirely.
Tora would never admit that he was cold, and he wouldn’t admit that he was antsy either. He was more than capable of restraining himself from shivering, and from the nervous fidgeting that would give him away. His restraint was nearly perfect, but that didn’t mean that either his chill nor his antsiness went entirely unnoticed, especially not lately.
By the third take that Tora had finished running through, he was well and truly soaked and sitting around doing nothing while stuck in wet clothes was beginning to seriously piss the tiger off. He kept himself from constantly shifting in his seat to generate warmth only by the sheer force of his willpower. His scowling expression was the only tell he gave, and most of the crew wasn’t well enough versed in his expressions to be able to read it.
“Easy there, Tiger,” Namie crooned suddenly, coming up behind him and breaking through the silence of Tora’s gloom. She shattered his zen completely when she slid around his seat with a hand on his shoulder, steadying herself as she settled on his lap. “Have a sip of my latte, it’ll warm you up.”
Tora grumbled but he didn’t shove her off when she lifted the hot beverage to his lips. It was just cooler than being scalding hot, but it was an almost welcome sensation considering cold Tora was feeling at the moment. Between the latte and the warm shape of Namie on his lap, Tora was distinctly aware of the fact that he wasn’t quite as cold as he’d been moments before.
Reveling momentarily in the warmth, Tora took another sip of the latte and then handed it back to Namie, moving to push her off of him. She was dressed in a single layer of soft cotton, which would be soaking up the water clinging to his clothes like a sponge. And since the fabric hugging her curves was meant more to catch the eyes of passersby rather than heat, she would have even less of a defense against the chill than Tora did. Tora was wet and cold, and he could accept that, but he would not accept Namie being wet and cold as well.
Namie gripped Tora’s side as she drained the last of her latte, refusing to be moved. When she’d finished off the coffee confection, she tossed the empty cup aside in the direction of the trash can and swung one of her legs around so that she was now straddling her guitarist’s lap as she snuggled into Tora’s chest. “I’m not going anywhere, deal with it.”
Failing to push her off of him, Tora tried to stand up, to physically lift her up and away. She’d linked her heels together around the legs of his chair though, and her thighs clung to him with a vice-like grip that made him warm for reason other than a physical transfer of heat. There was only so much Tora could restrain himself from as Namie squirmed in his lap and mewled a protest at being pushed away.
He was forced to settle down a bit in order to allow himself to breathe.
“I have filming,” Tora protested when Namie kept herself pressed close to him.
“You have ten minutes.”
“You have filming.”
Tora snorted. “If you get sick, I’m not bringing you soup on set.”
“Yes, you will.”
“You shouldn’t be okay with getting sick, you have filming!”
“I’m a popstar,” Namie pointed out needlessly, “I always have filming.”
“You’re not always sick for it.”
“I’m not always healthy either.”
Tora grumbled and tried to push her off again. Namie responded only by wrapping her arms around his torso and digging into his back with her nails to keep her seat steady. She clearly knew exactly the effect she was having on him as he was forced to grip the chair’s armrests with white knuckles to restrain himself from attacking her then and there with kisses that would completely ruin both of their make-up’s clean styles.
If he had his way with her now, he would never be able to live it down. The stylists would hate him, and the film crew too, and his bandmates would never let it go.
Namie looked her tiger straight in the eye, saying, “You’re cold and I will not stand for it, so just live with it.”
“You won’t stand at all,” Tora countered.
“Hiroto will be done with his scene by the end of my next take, we can play soccer or something to keep warm,” Tora muttered, grasping at straws with firm determination.
“I’ll be plenty warm.”
“Only if you don’t catch hypothermia first,” Namie chided.
“Tora. Stop talking.”
“You are not fine. I can feel you not-shivering.”
“Doesn’t that prove me right?”
Namie rolled her eyes. “I can feel you not-shivering on purpose, you’re trying not to shiver, even though you want to. I can feel it.”
She shifted her weight in his lap to prove her point.
He couldn’t help but shiver at the sensation, though it was from anything but cold. Namie smirked because she knew it. “There’s a good boy, warmer already aren’t we?”
His voice was strained, though, tight with the tension Namie was using to warm him up from the inside out. She leaned in closer to him, whispering in his ear, “Now be a good little tiger and sit still. If you don’t I might have to bring out the handcuffs and I’ll leave you to explain them to the staff. Think of how your reputation might suffer.”
Tora jumped, trying one last time to get away. Namie bit his ear as a punishment, which really only made it all the harder for Tora to restrain himself. His white-knuckle grasp on the arms of the chair returned. Breathing carefully, Tora tried to settle in for the last few minutes before his next take.
Once he got himself more or less under control, he reflected that there were worse places to be trapped. Granted that many of them required much less self-restraint . . .
Still, at least he was warm.
And he definitely wasn’t bored.