[Arashi] substitute
[Title] substitute
[Author] honooko
[Rating] PG-13
[Notes] Wrote this on a scrap of paper at work. I write in cursive, so no one can read it but me. XD Aiba/Nino bittersweet.
Sometimes Nino sits on Aiba's back porch and pretends it's his porch too. It's familiar enough; Nino knows the direction of the wood grain, where all the twisting knots are, and the locations of all the screws. He knows the feel of it, warm from the sun and hard against his back.
Aiba pushes him flat against it, drawing a hand up Nino's side. His t-shirt bunches up. Aiba is heavy across his body, and he has Nino neatly pinned in place. It's too hot for this; cicadas hiss in rising waves of sound and the air is sticky with heat. Aiba's movements are slow, lazy, as his fingers trail across Nino's skin.
"It's too hot," Nino protests half-heartedly. Aiba murmurs in agreement, his lips pressed against Nino's throat. Nino wants to push him off. But he also needs this; he needs help with this tight coil of tension knotted up in his stomach. Aiba knows it, too; the first time they did this had almost been an accident. Aiba had avoided Nino for a week after that, terrified he had ruined a dear friendship. But Nino tracked him down.
"We're friends," he had said. "I'll share anything with you." And so it started: they shared everything from games, to secrets, to bodies. Aiba called Nino at three in the morning when he had a vivid nightmare about his house burning down, leaving him unable to sleep. Nino told Aiba when he came home from school and saw his mother crying in the kitchen, and he didn't know what to do.
Nino knows it's not serious. He knows they're just exploring, substituting each other for different people. But they still love each other, and Nino devours that delicious feeling of being loved.
Now, they're making out on Aiba's back porch. They aren't worried about getting caught because they already did, last week. Aiba's mother walked in when Nino was kneeling on the floor rather unmistakably busy. She had let out a shout of surprise and announced as she slammed the door closed that she didn't want to know what was going on. Since then, Aiba's family have been pointedly absent from whatever part of the house he and Nino were in.
"You grew again," Nino says, irritated as his own hands moved up Aiba's back.
"Sure did," Aiba says and Nino can hear the lecherous tone.
"Not that," Nino says, thumping Aiba on the shoulder. Aiba pushes himself up on his hands, giving Nino a confused look.
"Do you want to do this or not?" Aiba asks. Nino looks up at him, his gaze heavy and serious. Nino squirms underneath him, gripped with indecision.
"I don't know," he says. "I mean-sure, why not?" But instead of resuming the make-out, Aiba rolls off, sighing heavily.
"Cocktease," he accuses Nino across the silence. Nino thumps him on the shoulder again. It wasn't that he didn't want to; he just kept thinking about something Aiba had said today at dance practice.
"I think I like someone."
Nino frowned at the ceiling. Aiba wasn't his. They weren't in love; they weren't even dating. But he felt hurt all the same; Aiba didn't like Nino like that, but sometimes Nino wanted him to.
"If you want it so bad, go feel up Jun," Nino says. "He's the one you're thinking about anyway."
A pause, then Aiba kisses his cheek sweetly.
"When I'm with you, I'm only thinking about you," Aiba says. Nino feels instantly guilty, because he can't say the same thing. Sometimes, he isn't thinking about Aiba. But because it is Aiba, he feels safe doing it. What a terrible friend he is, to use Aiba this way.
"Okay," Nino says. "I believe you."
Someday, he won't have Aiba here like this. Someday, Aiba will realize that the person he likes feels the same way, and he won't need Nino for this. He might not need Nino for anything, after that. Nino tells himself that by then, he won't need Aiba for this either.
He curls on his side, facing Aiba, and ignores the part of his heart that says, 'You will never stop needing this.'
[Author] honooko
[Rating] PG-13
[Notes] Wrote this on a scrap of paper at work. I write in cursive, so no one can read it but me. XD Aiba/Nino bittersweet.
Sometimes Nino sits on Aiba's back porch and pretends it's his porch too. It's familiar enough; Nino knows the direction of the wood grain, where all the twisting knots are, and the locations of all the screws. He knows the feel of it, warm from the sun and hard against his back.
Aiba pushes him flat against it, drawing a hand up Nino's side. His t-shirt bunches up. Aiba is heavy across his body, and he has Nino neatly pinned in place. It's too hot for this; cicadas hiss in rising waves of sound and the air is sticky with heat. Aiba's movements are slow, lazy, as his fingers trail across Nino's skin.
"It's too hot," Nino protests half-heartedly. Aiba murmurs in agreement, his lips pressed against Nino's throat. Nino wants to push him off. But he also needs this; he needs help with this tight coil of tension knotted up in his stomach. Aiba knows it, too; the first time they did this had almost been an accident. Aiba had avoided Nino for a week after that, terrified he had ruined a dear friendship. But Nino tracked him down.
"We're friends," he had said. "I'll share anything with you." And so it started: they shared everything from games, to secrets, to bodies. Aiba called Nino at three in the morning when he had a vivid nightmare about his house burning down, leaving him unable to sleep. Nino told Aiba when he came home from school and saw his mother crying in the kitchen, and he didn't know what to do.
Nino knows it's not serious. He knows they're just exploring, substituting each other for different people. But they still love each other, and Nino devours that delicious feeling of being loved.
Now, they're making out on Aiba's back porch. They aren't worried about getting caught because they already did, last week. Aiba's mother walked in when Nino was kneeling on the floor rather unmistakably busy. She had let out a shout of surprise and announced as she slammed the door closed that she didn't want to know what was going on. Since then, Aiba's family have been pointedly absent from whatever part of the house he and Nino were in.
"You grew again," Nino says, irritated as his own hands moved up Aiba's back.
"Sure did," Aiba says and Nino can hear the lecherous tone.
"Not that," Nino says, thumping Aiba on the shoulder. Aiba pushes himself up on his hands, giving Nino a confused look.
"Do you want to do this or not?" Aiba asks. Nino looks up at him, his gaze heavy and serious. Nino squirms underneath him, gripped with indecision.
"I don't know," he says. "I mean-sure, why not?" But instead of resuming the make-out, Aiba rolls off, sighing heavily.
"Cocktease," he accuses Nino across the silence. Nino thumps him on the shoulder again. It wasn't that he didn't want to; he just kept thinking about something Aiba had said today at dance practice.
"I think I like someone."
Nino frowned at the ceiling. Aiba wasn't his. They weren't in love; they weren't even dating. But he felt hurt all the same; Aiba didn't like Nino like that, but sometimes Nino wanted him to.
"If you want it so bad, go feel up Jun," Nino says. "He's the one you're thinking about anyway."
A pause, then Aiba kisses his cheek sweetly.
"When I'm with you, I'm only thinking about you," Aiba says. Nino feels instantly guilty, because he can't say the same thing. Sometimes, he isn't thinking about Aiba. But because it is Aiba, he feels safe doing it. What a terrible friend he is, to use Aiba this way.
"Okay," Nino says. "I believe you."
Someday, he won't have Aiba here like this. Someday, Aiba will realize that the person he likes feels the same way, and he won't need Nino for this. He might not need Nino for anything, after that. Nino tells himself that by then, he won't need Aiba for this either.
He curls on his side, facing Aiba, and ignores the part of his heart that says, 'You will never stop needing this.'