aoife_hime: ([kat-tun] jin + lollipop = otp)
aoife_hime ([personal profile] aoife_hime) wrote on October 5th, 2010 at 06:18 pm
[fic] Extended Recess's Extended Universe... continued!
Title: Jinxed
Characters/Groups: Jin, Yamapi, Kame, Nakamaru, Matsujun, various other JE cameos
Genre: AU Crack, Gen
Rating: PG-15 (language)
Author's Notes: A continuation of the Extended Recess extended universe! This only took about six weeks longer than I thought it would.
Summary: Jin seems to have a great propensity for breaking vending machines.


One Hit Wonder

Jin remembered as he raced past the map of Massachusetts that he hadn’t bothered to tie his shoes that morning before dragging himself to the tour bus. Not even a second later, both of his shoes flew off in unknown directions.

Unfortunately, his socks didn’t present nearly enough traction against the linoleum. And despite his so-tired-he-was-basically-drugged state, Jin had somehow managed to build up a significant amount of speed before the loss of his shoes. This combination could only mean one thing.

Skid! Crash! Crack! Thump!

… Yeah. That.

Nevertheless, there was a noble cause at the heart of his reckless behavior.


Okay, so maybe not “noble” per say, but certainly worthwhile.

It took a few moments for the pain in his forehead to kick in but when it did it pounded against his skull, demanding rather petulantly to be noticed. The jabbing pain in his ribs where the coin return lever was still jabbing him wasn’t being any more polite.

Geez, even his injuries were attention whores.

So perhaps bodily slamming himself into a rickety old vending machine somewhere around the Massachusetts-Vermont border wasn’t the smartest move in the world. Jin considered this possibility as he flipped himself over like a sloppy flapjack in order to better stare down an equal parts pissed-off and exasperated Yamapi. Beyond Pi, a cameraman and a guy with a boom were frantically getting their equipment adjusted. The footage would probably end up looking like it was filmed by a five year old, all shaky and rushed and off-balance. In other words, perfect footage for a reality TV show.

“It’s not your vending machine, moron! It’s the state’s vending machine!” Pi spat back, unconsciously crumpling his dollar bill in his fist. It just so happened that that dollar was exactly one more dollar than Jin had in his bank account – let alone on his person – at the moment.

It didn’t really make any sense, then, why Jin should be laying claim to an entire vending machine when he couldn’t afford anything save the air between the neatly-stacked candy bars. But that was sleep deprivation for you. Get a guy up before six in the morning and stick him on a bus with his mortal enemy and lapses in judgment were bound to ensue.

Case in point: right now. And it didn’t seem as if there was any end in sight.

“It’s mine! You don’t deserve it and I totally saw it first!” Jin heard himself say. Apparently, the gap between his brain and his mouth had magically expanded since he dragged himself out of bed this morning. If Meisa were here, she’d probably be saying something about how miracles really did happen all the while looking like she was about to stab him with her stilettos.

In front of him, Pi’s eyes widened and Jin could see all the way into their soul-sucking depths. Creepy. Dude should wear sunglasses more.

“What are you, four?!”

Over to Jin’s left, a little old lady scurried towards the parking lot as quickly as her arthritis would allow. In her rush, she almost tripped over one of Jin’s wayward shoes.

“Finders keepers, losers weepers!” To emphasize this statement, Jin slammed himself into a more secure position against the front of the vending machine. The machine responded with an ominous rattle and a groan.


Another slam. Another rattle. A few candy bars fell from their slots. “NO SNICKERS FOR YOU, CAPTAIN VORTEX!”



This time when Jin reasserted his position guarding his precious vending machine, though, something was different. The machine didn’t groan. It didn’t rattle. It did none of those things.

Instead, it simply fell apart.

Shelves with rows of neatly-stacked snacks tipped forward and junk food cascaded into the scarred Plexiglas front. It was somewhere around this point that Jin’s common sense came back to him in a rush and he leapt away from the vending machine as if it were on fire. Pi, meanwhile, was staring at the wreckage, jaw hanging slack and eyes wide with disbelief. The sound of rushing footsteps and someone pushing open the glass front doors meant that it was only a matter of time before someone in charge came around to assess the damage.

In this sort of situation, nothing alleviates an awkward silence better than a flushing toilet. It was fortunate, then, that at that moment Nakamaru happened to finish up his business in the men’s room. The man in question walked out of the bathroom, wallet already open before he took in the damage that Jin had managed to wreak on the only decent vending machine in the rest stop that likely hadn’t been updated since the 1960’s. After he’d had a few seconds to take in the carnage, Maru looked despondently between the broken machine and the dollar bill he had just pulled out of his wallet. In the silence that had quickly reinstated itself over the entire rest area building, it was easy to hear the loud growl that emanated from the vicinity of his stomach.

“All I wanted was a Kit-Kat bar…”

If Second is the Best, Why Are You So Upset?

Jin had done any number of mortifyingly embarrassing things in his life. He could probably fill a notebook factory full of notebooks with details of the ones he remembered, and probably equally as many with details of the ones he’d either forgotten or suppressed.

Getting into a knock-down, drag-out fight with Pi over Jin’s supposed cheating at DDR shouldn’t have been one of those things.

DDR was a matter of pride for Jin. There was a period right after Extended Recess disbanded but before he started getting solo gigs when all of his marketable skills had failed him (Meisa would say he was a lazy bastard in denial about his band’s break-up, but Jin thought that was inaccurate, not to mention a bit harsh). During that time, he’d subsisted on rapidly declining CD sales and DDR tournaments held in the basement of the local arcade (some of those people were scary-serious and smelled like they didn’t shower ever, but Jin was okay with that as long as they gave him money when he won and didn’t stand too close to him until after they’d reapplied deodorant). The point was, he didn’t need to cheat at DDR – he was totally the best, with or without the furry suit, no question about it and he would defend that point even if it meant slapping Pi in the face with a pair of ridiculous furry marmoset paws.

In the end, though, the fight was one of the mortifyingly embarrassing events in Jin’s life. Precisely because they…

Had been fighting in furry costumes.

In the lobby of a giant-ass convention center.

In front of more people than had ever attended an Extended Recess concert.

It didn’t help matters that they were fighting so raucously that they managed to take down a cat, a wolf, a pig, an inconveniently placed vending machine, and another cat before security dragged them off to separate back rooms to cool down.

“I’m not bailing you out of jail if the convention staff brings you up on disorderly conduct charges. So you had better pray that whoever’s in charge has as few brain cells as you do,” was all Meisa had to say when Kame dialed her number for Jin and held the phone up to his ear (cell phones were not made for marmoset paws and the stupid security guard – who was probably laughing his ass off in the hallway somewhere right about now – wouldn’t let him change out of the damn costume). She hung up before Jin could formulate a coherent response.

Meanwhile, back out in the lobby, Maru groaned and ran a hand through his still sweat-drenched hair as he stared at the remains of the broken vending machine. His stomach gave an insistent rumble.

“Damn it, guys, this time I really wanted a Kit-Kat bar!”

Third Time’s the Charm

It was difficult to sleep in these cheap motels on the best of nights. They smelled unpleasantly of stale smoke buried under overly-strong air freshener, the pillows were lumpy, the air conditioning rattled in a distinctly non-soothing sort of way, and the sheets were scratchy and occasionally gave him hives. Worst of all, though, was the fact that each and every one of the motels at which their bus stopped seemed to have been built by the same contractor, a contractor who had purposely skimped on soundproofing for the sake of getting the job done faster.

So it was that it was more than possible for Matsumoto Jun to hear every single insult, crash, grapple, and exclamation of the fight that Yamashita and Akanishi were having – AGAIN – in the lobby, since his room was unfortunately located right next to it.

Jun heaved a sigh and turned over onto his side, wrapping a pillow around his ears in the process. As loud and annoying as his air conditioner could be, it somehow wasn’t loud enough to drown out the nearby scuffle. He would have blasted his iPod, but he couldn’t sleep with headphones (he’d tried back when he was in a band during long nights on the tour bus and had learned that all it got him was a night of restless sleep and sensitive ears the next morning). And there was something distinctly tacky and almost sad about falling asleep in a motel room by himself to the dulcet tones of blaring infomercials. His life was currently just this side of pathetic, but he hadn’t sunk quite that low yet.

Yamashita was yelling something now about potato salad. Obviously, the two had moved on to the truly important subjects in life. Jun frowned as he heard a series of disturbingly heavy, metallic thuds. What were those idiots doing?! It sounded like they were trying to take out a wall with a battering ram.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

Jun snorted, and because he still had a pillow mostly over his ears, the sound reverberated loudly inside his head. Of course Kamenashi would come out to investigate. Some people were so predictable… and so obvious (it wasn’t as if Jun hadn’t picked up anything about male signals from being in a boy band). Granted, it would probably take Kame’s tongue down Jin’s throat and hand down Jin’s pants for Akanishi to get the hint…

It occurred to Jun that it was now, for the most part, quiet in the lobby; Kame had obviously gotten Yamashita and Akanishi to stop whatever the hell it was they had been doing. This pleased Jun to no end. Finally, he could go back to trying to get some decent sleep.

… Or he could lie awake trying to figure out just why the hell it had sounded as if those two imbeciles had been laying siege to the motel just moments earlier. It didn’t matter, he told himself. It really, really didn’t matter. As long as it didn’t show up on his bill, it had nothing to do with him. Nothing at all.

Jun grumbled as he tied the sash around his fuzzy purple monogrammed bathrobe and trudged out into the hallway. Damn his curiosity.

Just as he opened his door, Nakamaru walked past, moving purposefully in the direction of the lobby without even sparing Jun a glance. Jun watched as the fashion salesman also completely ignored a boxer-clad Kamenashi (who was, for whatever reason, still standing in the hallway with his hands on his hips and a girly pout on his face) and stopped in front of the lone vending machine in the lobby. Maru inserted one coin followed by another; in profile, Jun could see he was smiling almost like a child in front of an ice cream truck. Abruptly, said smile crumbled and morphed into a very confused frown. With the heel of his hand, he smacked the part of the vending machine right by the coin slot. When nothing happened, Maru pressed the coin return lever repeatedly, but apparently to no avail.

It was then that Jun realized what had caused the banging. He joined Kamenashi at the lobby entrance and for a few moments the two watched in silence as Maru dug through his pockets for additional change.

“Did they really just break another vending machine?” Jun finally asked. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe his eyes, it was just that he really didn’t believe that any one person could ruin so many vending machines in such a short space of time. Breaking three vending machines in the space of a week seemed a bit ridiculous, even for someone like Akanishi Jin.

Meanwhile, Maru inserted a few more coins into the slot. They could hear the clink of the change as it fell into the bowels of the machine, but apparently it still didn’t register with whatever outdated (and recently much-abused) electronics were in there. A very tense moment ensued during which Maru stood absolutely still. It was so silent that Jun could actually hear the low rumble of cars racing along on the nearby interstate through the broken (and therefore partially-open) front door. A few seconds later both he and Kame jumped as Maru started banging on the front of the machine with both fists.

“Looks like it, yeah,” Kame finally replied, chewing the inside of his lip thoughtfully.

Maru made a whining noise that was so high-pitched it made Jun’s hair stand on end. “Why, god, why?!”

“So that really makes number three?” Jun frowned. Really, unbelievable.


A sort of squealing sound came from Maru’s direction as the man sank to his knees, his fists leaving wide streaks as they slid down the Plexiglas. Jun stuck a finger in one ear to clean out some earwax; was that really sobbing he heard?

“Do you think we should, you know, do something? He looks really upset…”

Just then, Maru choked out what was most definitely a sob. Well, a sob mixed with a very loud hiccup. Jun’s eyes widened in disbelief. “All I wanted was one Kit-Kat bar!” cried the broken man on the floor. “One! Is that too much to ask?!” What followed was quite possibly the most pathetic wail either Jun or Kame had ever heard and they looked at each other uncomfortably.

“Maybe it would be best for him to walk it off,” Kame suggested tentatively. “Alone.”

Jun was about to disagree – it didn’t seem right to leave a man alone when he was in such a state – but the too-real image of spending half the night alone with a distraught and chocolate-deprived Nakamaru sitting on the end of his bed was enough to change his mind.

“Yeah,” Jun agreed. “He’ll be fine in the morning.”


“This sucks.”

Jin gazed longingly at the pathetic fountain that was apparently the fifth hole’s water hazard. Perhaps if he stared at it long enough, it would spontaneously turn into a swimming pool. A swimming pool with two story-tall water slides and a bunch of hot chicks in bikinis sunbathing next to it. Oh, and waitresses in short skirts bringing him drinks that he bought with his ungodly sum of newly-won cash. Having all of those MTV idiots groveling at his feet because he was basically god’s gift to gambling would be a nice touch.

Now that was more of what he had in mind when he thought of free time in Vegas.

“Jin, just hit the damn ball,” Kame nagged, his voice cutting through Jin’s daydreams. Judging by his tone, this was probably about the fifth time he’d said that. Either that or he was still sore about losing the night before to the genius that was Jonas Brothers underwear.

“My grandma plays faster than you!” Pi shouted from two holes ahead where he and his pink golf ball were doing battle with a windmill. To Jin’s immense satisfaction, Pi’s next shot caught one of the windmill blades and rebounded back at him so fast that it clipped him in the foot.

He would have spent the next five minutes laughing his ass off as Pi danced back and forth, his wounded foot cradled in both hands as he yowled like a cat that had just had its tail stepped on, but Kame’s glare brought him swiftly back to the reality of Athena’s Paradise, aka hole number five. Resignedly, Jin wiped the sweat that was beading on his forehead before it had a chance to sting his eyes once again and lined up his next putt.

It hadn’t been his idea to go mini-golfing during their precious free hours in Las Vegas. If he’d had his way, he’d be in a high roller room playing the most intense game of poker in his life right now. He and Pi had made more than enough money off of crazed pubescent girls’ underwear fetishes the night before to buy him into such a game. Unfortunately for him, the contracts they’d all signed at the beginning of this adventure said something to the effect that MTV owned all of the money earned by any of the contestants during any of the challenges. Jin had sputtered angrily until Asami pulled out a copy of the papers he’d signed back in Vermont while half conscious and pointed out that, indeed, his commentary, actions, sanity, soul, and financial gain during the fifteen day time period all belonged to MTV.

However, possibly just to prove she wasn’t utterly heartless or possibly because she truly was a devious sadistic witch, Asami had been gracious enough to give Jin and Pi five bucks each accompanied by the words “spend it wisely.” Jin was just starting to get his hopes back up (five dollars wasn’t much of a start, but this was Vegas – anything could happen) when she’d all but shoved them out of the bus at the entrance to some weird rooftop mini golf course on the outskirts of downtown, saying something about it being less likely for them to get themselves into trouble during their free time there than at a casino. Kame and a few of the other contestants got off the bus at the mini golf course as well, the allure of the strip not outshining that of eighteen holes of rooftop putting. Or something. Jin suspected they might all be suffering from heat stroke.

As the bus pulled away, Jin was faced with the option of walking back to the strip in full-on desert heat (there was no way he was wasting his precious five bucks on a taxi) or spending his free time mini golfing. Grudgingly, he chose the latter.

He started regretting the decision almost immediately when Pi started making kissy faces in Jin’s direction when he and Kame ended up as partners. His nose may have still stung from the Red Bull explosion from last night, but there was no way the ex-baseball star had a thing for him (it was Kame, for Christ’s sake, not Elton John!). His afternoon only got more intolerably irksome from there. Jin may have been the king of DDR, but mini golf was most definitely not part of his skill set.

Hole five was no exception. Par three, my ass, he thought. I’ll be lucky if I get it in six.

Jin’s putter connected with his absurdly yellow golf ball. As usual, the ball went nowhere near where he’d intended it to go; instead, it skipped over the tops of some artificial hills, ricocheted twice off the baseboards that separated the hole from the sidewalk, and stopped less than an inch from the pool at the base of the fountain.

Jin didn’t even bother hold in his whine and added a foot stomp for good measure. Unfortunately, all that accomplished was tipping his ball over the pool’s lip and into two inches of water.

“Fuck,” he cursed, completely oblivious to the scandalized and, in one case, deadly looks he was receiving from nearby parents (one mom even went so far as to cover her son’s ears and rush him towards the exit even though he was in the middle of a shot). “The only way I’m going to hit that damn ball now is if I stand with one foot in the water.” He looked over at Kame with what he hoped was a pitiable expression. Based on Kame’s deadpan expression, Jin figured it wasn’t having much of an effect.

“Two stroke penalty if you move your ball,” was all he had to say to Jin’s pout. “Water’s not that deep; you could take the shot from there pretty easily.”

Which was an easy thing for Kame to say considering he’d finished the hole in two strokes. Bastard.

Jin sighed. “Fine, whatever.” He then proceeded to line up for the most awkward putt of his of his life.

Perhaps it was his desire to be finished with the damn course as soon as possible. Perhaps he had finally reached his breaking point with the show in general. Perhaps he simply misjudged the force needed to clear the ball from the water. Whatever the case, when Jin’s putter next connected with his ball, he had no trouble clearing it from the water hazard (even if said water hazard splashed all over him in the process). In fact, he had no trouble clearing the fifth hole entirely. And the sixth, and the eighth. Jin had managed to hit the ball with such force that the thing became a deadly, low-flying neon yellow comet streaking across the rooftop. Over on hole nine, Taguchi literally did a back flip in order to avoid the lethal projectile, while Maru dove behind a weathered statue of Humpty Dumpty.

The ball’s travels were stopped only by the presence of a row of antiquated vending machines lined up near the end of the course.

There was a crash, except not exactly; the plastic siding of the machine that had taken a direct hit didn’t shatter, but fault lines rapidly spider-webbed out from the impact crater. A split second later, the sound of something electrical shorting out reached their ears and some sparks flew out of the coin slot. Jin flinched reflexively. Next to him, Kame simply stood and stared, his eyebrows creeping up towards his hairline in disbelief.

Jin blew a wet clump of hair off of his face, trying very hard to ignore the gazes of every single person on the rooftop at that moment.


Five by Five by Five

In Jin’s perfect world, he would never have to wake up before ten in the morning. He’d be recognized as the truly talented musician that he was and every single one of his band’s albums would go double platinum. He’d never have to worry about his credit cards being declined and he’d never have to spend the night alone if he didn’t wish to do so.

But most importantly, everyone would believe him whenever he told the truth.

“This is the fifth vending machine you’ve broken in fifteen days,” Pi said, counting on his fingers just to be annoying. Jin tried to kick him in the shins, but he dodged. “That has to be some sort of record or something. Quick, somebody call Guinness!”

Obviously, this was not a perfect world.

Jin, Yamapi, and Kame stood together in the parking lot of their last MTV-sponsored hole-in-the-wall motel. Jin still held a used fire extinguisher limply in his hands. The acrid smell of melting plastic stuck in his nose. Inside the building, fire alarms continued to flash and wail, and in the distance a fire truck’s banshee sirens could be heard.

“Seriously, guys, I didn’t do that,” Jin insisted again. “It was the monkey! It was trying to -”

“There was no monkey,” interrupted Kame. “Animals aren’t allowed to stay here.” He left off the, And I would know because I read through all of the motel policies printed in some obscure bedside pamphlet that nobody but me reads, but by the bored and slightly irritated look on his face, Jin could easily fill in the blanks.

“There was too a monkey! I saw it with my own eyes! It had a little red fez and a vest and was trying to steal a Twix and it totally ended up setting the vending machine on fire!”

Pi snorted. “Yeah, because monkeys love chocolate-y, crunchy goodness so much that they hotwire vending machines of motels they’re NOT STAYING IN.”

“Fuck you both,” Jin grumbled. He would have headed back to his room to sulk, but the entire motel had been evacuated (and since his room was only a few doors down from the scene of the crime, it probably smelled like singed carpet and melted plastic anyways). The cast of MTV Road Rules was gathered in the parking lot along with a few truckers, a lady with a bad dye job and five squirmy kids, and a sweet old couple who looked like they seriously regretted not splurging on the Hampton Inn across the road. More than a few people were giving Jin and his used fire extinguisher nasty looks; he was pretty sure that Matsumoto, for one, would have murdered him with his eyes if such a thing were possible. The man was probably pissed that his clothes were all going to smell like a bad campfire for the next month.

Jin shifted uncomfortably; he hadn’t had time to grab a pair of shoes before running outside. After Kame’s off-hand comment about being careful about not stepping on the rusty nails that littered the questionable motel’s equally sketchy parking lot, he was paranoid about getting blood poisoning or rabies or whatever it was that rusty nails gave you.

He wasn’t the only uncomfortable one, though. Ueda had obviously been in the middle of a shower and had only had time to wrap a towel around his skinny waist before evacuating. Tegoshi was pouting in an altogether too cute way, all the while rubbing his eyes like a small child who’d been woken up early from a nap. Nishikido looked like he wanted to kill every person in the parking lot, starting with Jin. But then again, Jin figured Nishikido normally looked like that, so maybe he didn’t really care that he was stuck in a parking lot at midnight in his Batman & Robin pajamas.

In fact, the only person who actually seemed to be completely at ease was Nakamaru.

Jin stared at the man (even his pajamas were argyle, it was insane) who was currently watching the smoke waft through a third floor window. A third floor window that, Jin knew, was right next to Maru’s room. Why the hell was he smiling? And was that… It was! He was even humming to himself! It made about as much sense to Jin’s already broken brain as a monkey trying to break into a vending machine with a bobby pin, which is to say none.

It was at that moment, though, that Maru took a big bite out of something that crunched in a tell-tale fashion. Suddenly, the humming made sense.

Maru chewed, swallowed, and continued right where he’d left off. “Hmm hmm hmm hmmm… hmmm hmm hmm hmmm… Break me off a piece of that Kit-Kat bar!”
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