It Happened One Night (in Saipan)
Title: It Happened One Night (in Saipan)
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Aiba Masaki/Becky
Summary: Becky was pretty certain there’d be news headlines the next day announcing that Saipan had been completely submerged.
Notes/Warnings: For A Kiss, and All Was Said. May induce cavities! Writing Aiba/Becky makes me super happy, can you tell? More more more, I say!
She had an idea they’d cancel flights as soon as she opened the curtains in her hotel room that morning, but the production staff had far more confidence than Becky did. Her manager was making a flurry of phone calls even now as the van left the airport. They’d gone all the way there to discover that the torrential downpour was canceling flights for at least the next day as long as the storm system was passing through the Marianas.
“You get an extra vacation day?” their director offered weakly as they drove at almost a crawl back to their hotel. The rain was coming down so heavily that the windshield wipers were more decorative than useful. At this rate, Becky was pretty certain there’d be news headlines the next day announcing that Saipan had been completely submerged.
Maybe it was exaggerating, but she had a lot of commitments the following day. And naturally, her companion did as well. In the back of the van, Aiba’s manager was competing with her own to be heard as they made calls back home. She looked back to see Aiba himself looking a little down.
“Some vacation,” he said glumly, adjusting the baseball cap on his head.
“At least we got the shoot done?” she offered optimistically. They’d spent all day yesterday at a bird sanctuary learning all about Melanesian Honeyeaters and Pacific Reef Egrets for Shimura Zoo. Becky just hoped they would edit out the part where one of the egrets treated her shoulder as a restroom.
He nodded, checking his phone. “Yeah. Maybe it could be our last footage!” He leaned forward, hand gripping the back of her seat. “Aiba Masaki and Becky, lost in the rain.”
She turned away from him and sighed. “They’ll remember me as the girl who got pooped on.”
He patted her shoulder before settling back in his seat. “That’ll be the part where everyone starts to cry during the Becky tribute.”
She grinned. He always found a way to make her smile against her better judgment. She was kind of glad that if she had to be stuck somewhere, it was with one of her more entertaining co-workers.
“What are you missing tomorrow?” she asked, trying to be heard over the two dueling managers.
“Luckily enough, photoshoot and a few interviews. I can do the interviews over the phone tonight.”
“Lucky is right. Three programs tomorrow. I’m inconveniencing a lot of people.”
“Rain happens, Becky-chan.”
“And if you were missing a taping?”
His phone buzzed with an incoming mail. “I’d be in deep trouble.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said, squinting out the window to watch the palm trees swaying under the wind and the rain.
“Sho-chan says hello.” Aiba snorted. “He also says stay dry.”
--
Everyone else’s flights out had been canceled, and the Hyatt Regency was full of unhappy tourists when they returned. The crew was hauling all the camera equipment back in while the producer was negotiating to get rooms for another night. She and Aiba sat on a bench in the lobby, duffel bags at their feet as they waited for new keycards.
It was nice to just sit and relax and not have to worry about anyone rushing up or taking their picture. She could already see stress melting away from Aiba. He tended to have quite a bit more attention than she did, far more pressure and media focus. He rarely got days off. It was rather sad that it took an act of nature to grant him a reprieve.
“Wonder if they have an indoor pool?” he was mumbling, eyes closed as he leaned back against the wall, completely at peace.
“It’s almost a typhoon out there, and you want to go swimming?”
He shrugged. “Got a better plan?”
She didn’t. Maybe a nap. Maybe three naps. She had her sketch pad too. The way Aiba was sitting with his long legs completely stretched out and his cap sideways would be a funny little drawing she could work on. At the very least, it would be less creepy looking than the way he’d drawn her before.
His eyes were shut, so she slipped her pad and a pencil out of her bag. Maybe it was a different kind of creepy, she thought as she started staring at his jaw line, at the shadows the hat cast across his face. She’d never really looked at him this closely. They usually had on makeup for filming. It was kind of refreshing to see the real Aiba, warts and all. Not that he had warts or anything.
The bottle of water in his hand started to slide down his leg where he’d balanced it, hitting the bench as his breathing started to get heavier. She suppressed a grin at how easily he could fall asleep in a crowded lobby full of grouchy travelers speaking half a dozen languages.
While an obviously honeymooning couple argued in English by the potted plant at her other side, she drew his legs almost comically long, scribbling in a few rips and tears in what would eventually be his jeans. His head started to droop lower and lower until his chin was nearly hitting his chest.
“Aiba-kun,” she mumbled under her breath, sketching the oddly colorful flip-flops he was wearing. “You have cute taste in shoes.”
She didn’t have much time to get lost in her work though because their producer came hurrying over with keycards and a dozen apologies for keeping them waiting. Aiba stirred, blinking slowly as he seemed to realize that he’d been asleep. She closed her sketch pad, hauling her purse up onto her lap and shoving the pad and pencil back inside before he figured out what she’d been up to. Why was she so embarrassed all of a sudden?
Becky took the keycard with a quiet thank you, while Aiba straightened up and hid a yawn behind his hand. “Thanks,” he said, shoving the card into his pocket.
His manager approached, wiggling her cell phone. “Got you in with Wink Up early!”
He nodded, shouldering his bag. Not too much time to relax as a member of Arashi, but Aiba didn’t look surprised or even irritated. It was just the way things went for him, and much as he could annoy her, she had to respect him for that.
“I’ll catch you later,” he said, giving her a little wave before taking the phone and following his manager out of the lobby.
Her own manager looked considerably more flustered as she approached. “They’re trying to find people to replace you on the panels tomorrow.”
She stood, gathering her own things. “Don’t suppose Becky live via satellite from the plane will work in the morning?”
Her manager looked out the lobby doors, and the rain was still falling briskly. “If they cancel the flight tomorrow, I will rent us a boat.”
Becky laughed and followed her manager to the bank of elevators, weaving between tourists. They couldn’t change the weather. It wasn’t worth worrying about since it was out of their hands. “What were you sketching?” her manager asked, and she did her best not to blush again.
“Just the plants in the lobby.”
--
The production staff took everyone out for dinner. And by “out,” it meant the Italian restaurant in the hotel. Nobody batted an eye about charging the whole thing on the NTV corporate card. They were stuck there after all. Becky was disappointed that Aiba hadn’t been able to join them. He was apparently on his third phone interview of the day. Did he ever get to stop working?
“It’s too bad we aren’t filming this,” the director said. “Since Becky-san’s eating chicken.”
She stared at her plate in confusion. “Why?”
The producer chuckled. “We could say you took revenge on that egret!”
The table erupted into laughter, and she shook her head. There was no way they’d let her live this down. She could already imagine the sound effects and the music they’d be playing. Aiba had jumped away from her before he got the second wave of egret poo on his own jumpsuit, and they’d have daring escape music for him too.
“Not funny,” she complained, suddenly wishing she’d opted for some pasta. Then again, if Aiba had been the one to get pooped on, she’d never let him forget it. The whole dinner she’d been thinking about him. She needed to...not do that.
She excused herself shortly thereafter, clutching her leftover chicken. Aiba-kun was just Aiba-kun.
Her manager was cooped up in her room, still trying to figure out Becky's schedule for tomorrow. Even the offer of a free meal hadn’t taken her away from her phone. “You should eat something,” Becky pleaded, opening the styrofoam container and trying to tempt the hardworking woman with the chicken.
“They’ve got Oomasa Aya-san to cover for Waratte Iitomo. She’s promoting something or other already, thank goodness.” The container stayed in Becky’s hands. “We’re still trying to figure something out for Itte Q.”
“So this means you won’t eat?”
The manager held up a coffee cup. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
She left, feeling slightly guilty for inconveniencing staff back home and her manager. Then again, she supposed it was part of the job. One of those worst case scenarios. Chicken under her arm, she fumbled around for her keycard. How glamorous her life was. Sitting in a hotel room in Saipan munching on leftover chicken carbonara!
The door next to hers opened first though, and out came Aiba’s manager talking at a frenzied pace. She should have just swiped the keycard and gone inside to change into her favorite pajamas, but the door was closing slowly, and she decided that she really didn’t need to eat all this leftover chicken herself.
She caught the door with her hand, nearly dropping the container. “Aiba-kun?”
“Yo!”
She entered, keeping the door open with her foot as she held up the container of food. He was sitting at the edge of the bed frowning as he clicked through the channels on the TV. The storm was doing a good job keeping most of them fuzzy or unreachable.
“You didn’t get a chance to eat. Carbonara?”
He turned to see her and was off the bed in an instant, TV remote falling to the carpet with a thud. “Really? For me?”
“Well, it’s my leftovers.”
He gave her a suspicious look as he took the container from her and opened it up. “Leftovers huh?”
She tried to grab it back. “If you don’t want it, I’ll be happy to take it back to my own room.”
He waved her off and pulled it closer. “Three idol magazines and TV Life. One of the TV ones. Or was it two? Ugh, I am so hungry.” He looked pretty blissful with the promise of lukewarm Italian until realization hit. “No fork?”
“What do I look like, your maid?”
Aiba set the food on the desk in the corner of the room and started feeling around in his jean pockets.
“What?” she asked, seeing him grow increasingly alarmed.
“Keycard. I have a bad track record with these things.”
She found it easily on the nightstand between the double beds, waving it. “This keycard?”
“That one,” he said, snatching it from her. “I’m getting a fork.”
She followed him out into the hall, getting out her own keycard. “I hope it tastes okay. If you need to heat it up, take it out of the styrofoam. This one’s not microwave safe.”
“Yeah, I know that,” he said with a laugh, tapping his head with his keycard. “Don’t underestimate the power of Masaki dot com.” He frowned then. “You’re not coming?”
She felt a little warmer with the way he was looking at her, all disappointed. His hair was pretty messy, probably from wearing his hat half the day and laying on the bed talking to magazine reporters for the rest of it. It was really kind of cute. “You need me to help you find a fork?”
He leaned forward until he was teetering at the edge of her personal space, and her palms were getting clammy. “You got a lot of exciting plans tonight?”
Pajamas. Fighting with her TV the same way Aiba had been fighting with his. Falling asleep early, even though she’d had a nap in the afternoon. She put her keycard in her pocket. “Alright, let’s get you a fork.”
--
The fork adventure turned out to be more exciting than she would have thought. They’d made it halfway to the bank of elevators when the lights flickered out overhead. Being on the eighth floor of the hotel really didn’t help.
Dim emergency lights came on all down the hall, bathing the floor in a pale orange glow. “Maybe you should just go without the fork?” she asked.
He smiled. “I’m hungry, Becky, but I’m not on TV right now. I can be a grown-up once in a while!”
She led the way to the stairwell. They took the eight flights down in seriousness, gripping the rail tightly. It was still pretty dark, and they didn’t need to go falling down the stairs. A canceled flight was far more easily dealt with than two broken necks.
The lobby was full again, and the guests were even grouchier. They weaved in and out of people demanding refunds and a woman shouting something about never staying at the hotel again, even though there wasn’t much the Hyatt could do about the weather or the power.
“You might as well just get food while we’re down here,” she told him. “In case the refrigerators are out too?”
“We could have ice cream!”
“You shouldn’t just eat ice cream for dinner,” she said, following him into one of the other restaurants, this one featuring a pretty large buffet. “Do you even have money with you?”
“You are reminding me of Matsujun, and not in a good way right now,” he complained. Other people seemed to have the same idea though. The whole room was being quickly lit with candles by the harried staff as people sat around and ate. Aiba stopped one of the dining room staff. “Are you charging for ice cream?”
The man didn’t understand Japanese, so Aiba tried English.
“Ice cream?” the busy man muttered. “You want ice cream, yes? Sure, take ice cream.”
Aiba thanked the man and turned to her with a rather satisfied grin. “Ha!”
She trailed him over to the soft-serve machine, watching him fill up a cup with some vanilla-chocolate swirl that was rapidly turning into soup. “That looks gross.”
“Oi! I’m hungry!” he protested, tossing on some sprinkles haphazardly in the dim light before grabbing a plastic spoon. “You sure you don’t want any?”
Seeing the way the ice cream was melting in his cup, she was pretty sure she didn’t. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the fork,” she informed him, snatching a plastic one before following him to one of the tables. She was fairly certain he’d forgotten about his need for one as soon as the thought of free ice cream had gone to his brain.
He was focusing on eating as much of his ice cream as he could while it was still solid, so he didn’t say anything. She watched him down spoonful after spoonful, wondering why she was following Aiba Masaki around the Saipan Hyatt Regency during a blackout. But when he started whining noisily about a “brain freeze” and cradled his head in his hands, she remembered why. He needed a babysitter.
“And how old will you be this year, Aiba-san?”
“Twenty-eight,” he grumbled, shoving the cup of ice cream away. It was all liquid at this point anyhow.
--
Aiba complained his way through a second cup of ice cream before they finally headed back. Becky had a feeling that the carbonara left sitting out on the desk wouldn’t look too good when they got to the room, but they had to get back up there first. The lobby was now swarming with police.
“Did they report us missing?” Aiba asked, but they got their answer soon enough when they heard a shout.
A man came running through the crowd, police on his tail. He was headed in their direction, and before she could react, Aiba’s hand clamped down around her wrist, and he tugged her aside, wrapping a protective arm around her.
They stood there unmoving as police tackled the man, clearly an angry guest whose temper had flared out of control. Staff were desperately trying to keep people calm, and Aiba was steadier than she was as the police handcuffed the man and got him up and moving.
“You okay?” he asked.
This had been quite a trip, and all for the little plastic fork in her pocket. “Yeah,” she said, still a bit stunned. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
His hand moved down from her wrist, his fingers linking with hers as he pulled her with him. “Come on, we should get upstairs.”
She didn’t really freak out about him holding her hand until they were on the second floor landing, and she slipped her hand away. What were they doing? What if their managers saw them? “Don’t forget your fork,” she said weakly, holding it out when he turned back in surprise.
“Oh. Thanks.” He took it, nodding his head in appreciation. The lights in the stairwell flickered back on. “Alright! Finally! The TV will be back!”
“But it wasn’t working when we left!”
Aiba’s steps were lighter as he climbed, and she laughed away the strange feelings bubbling in her stomach. She was already missing the almost confident way he’d held her hand in his own. Maybe she was just seeing something that wasn’t there.
--
Climbing the stairs was exhausting, and she was tired when they made it back to their floor.
“If I can’t use the styrofoam,” Aiba was saying as he pulled out his keycard, “then what can I use for a plate?”
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to find her own keycard.
“You’re not coming in?” he asked.
“To...to your room?”
He flushed suddenly. “Oh. I forgot.”
“Forgot?” she asked him, tapping her card against the door. “Forgot what? That I’m a girl?”
“Actually, yeah. I’m used to being in hotels with the other members. We’re always in each other’s rooms. Well,” he hesitated. “I didn’t forget you were a girl. Not entirely. I mean...”
“Aiba-kun,” she said, sliding her keycard in and hearing it beep. “Go eat your food.”
She closed the door behind her, so nervous her hands were shaking as she moved to the bed and set the keycard down on her night table. There were almost a dozen new mails on her phone, and she yawned, answering her manager’s question about where she’d been. “Helping Aiba-san retrieve a fork” was the truth after all.
She changed into her pajamas and settled under the covers. One channel was coming in clearly enough, but it was a cricket match and no matter how many times her dad had tried to explain the sport, it made no sense. Her phone buzzed, and it was a mail from an unknown sender.
“I’m bored!!” was almost immediately followed up with “It’s Aiba~! I got your address from your manager!”
“He’s sending me mail from the next room?” she wondered aloud, chuckling quietly and trying to focus on her phone’s screen even though the combination of bed plus pajamas plus cricket match was making her even more tired.
“How were the leftovers?”
“Great! Thank you~!”
“Watching cricket?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s the only thing on right now!!”
“So bored!! You should come over!!”
She paused. She was makeup-less, in her pajamas and neither of their agencies would be in favor of them fraternizing in one another’s room alone. Even if they were just friends. They were just friends, weren’t they? She didn’t even know what to type in response, fiddling with some of the charms on her phone in her nervousness. Luckily, he beat her to it with another message.
“Can I at least see the picture you drew of me?”
There was no way she could hide under her blanket forever, could she? Eventually, the storm outside would stop, and their flight could leave, and they’d go back home and back to all their responsibilities. And how did he know? He’d been half-asleep and then fully asleep! Hadn’t he?
“It’s not done” she sent back, almost immediately regretting it. She could have lied and said she was drawing a plant. Even her manager had bought that!
His next message surprised her even more.
“If you won’t come over, can I come say good night?”
She hesitated. Say good night? He couldn’t just...stop sending her messages? Maybe he wanted one last chance to make fun of her for serving as a bird bathroom. She wasn’t too fond of him seeing her in her pajamas, but her brain wasn’t coming up with any good excuses.
“Ok.”
Her message had barely sent before she heard his door open next to hers and then his knock. She kicked the covers off, tossing her phone on the bed. “Coming, coming,” she said, hoping her hair didn’t look too horrible.
He was smiling when she undid all three locks and opened the door. “Hello,” he said, seemingly amused about something.
“Hello.”
He scratched his head, trying to nonchalantly check her out in her pajamas. “So.”
Her pulse was racing. “So...good night, Aiba-kun?” He was still watching her, and it was making her self-conscious. Did she have something on her face? “Something else you wanted?”
He caught her off guard, bending down and kissing her so quickly she didn’t process it until he was already leaning back again. All she registered was a brief hint of minty toothpaste. He’d been thoughtful enough to brush after the carbonara.
“I’ve wanted to try that for a while,” he said, looking a little embarrassed himself. “Well, good night.”
“Aiba-kun!” she sputtered as he turned to go back to his room.
“Cute pajamas,” he remarked, slipping his keycard out of his own pajama bottoms. He was gone before she could call for him again.
She stood in the doorway stunned until she heard her phone buzzing. Another mail from Aiba was waiting for her when she got back to bed, feeling incredibly light and almost dizzy from her surprise.
“We should hang out more often when we get home” was followed with half a dozen smily face emoji and a tiny heart.
--
They were viewing the VTR in the studio. “And be sure to watch out for this part,” Aiba called out cheerfully as Becky’s least favorite bird flew into the shot.
The bird did his business, and she watched herself run screaming as Aiba jumped out of the way. The audience and other panelists erupted into laughter at her expense, and Becky was mortified.
She looked over and saw Aiba looking straight at her, even with the cameras rolling. Things were definitely different now. A good different. But that didn't necessarily eliminate his more annoying tendencies.
“How embarrassing!” he mouthed, giving her a wink before turning away to keep watching the VTR.
Becky could only hope the studio lights and makeup would hide her blush.
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Aiba Masaki/Becky
Summary: Becky was pretty certain there’d be news headlines the next day announcing that Saipan had been completely submerged.
Notes/Warnings: For A Kiss, and All Was Said. May induce cavities! Writing Aiba/Becky makes me super happy, can you tell? More more more, I say!
She had an idea they’d cancel flights as soon as she opened the curtains in her hotel room that morning, but the production staff had far more confidence than Becky did. Her manager was making a flurry of phone calls even now as the van left the airport. They’d gone all the way there to discover that the torrential downpour was canceling flights for at least the next day as long as the storm system was passing through the Marianas.
“You get an extra vacation day?” their director offered weakly as they drove at almost a crawl back to their hotel. The rain was coming down so heavily that the windshield wipers were more decorative than useful. At this rate, Becky was pretty certain there’d be news headlines the next day announcing that Saipan had been completely submerged.
Maybe it was exaggerating, but she had a lot of commitments the following day. And naturally, her companion did as well. In the back of the van, Aiba’s manager was competing with her own to be heard as they made calls back home. She looked back to see Aiba himself looking a little down.
“Some vacation,” he said glumly, adjusting the baseball cap on his head.
“At least we got the shoot done?” she offered optimistically. They’d spent all day yesterday at a bird sanctuary learning all about Melanesian Honeyeaters and Pacific Reef Egrets for Shimura Zoo. Becky just hoped they would edit out the part where one of the egrets treated her shoulder as a restroom.
He nodded, checking his phone. “Yeah. Maybe it could be our last footage!” He leaned forward, hand gripping the back of her seat. “Aiba Masaki and Becky, lost in the rain.”
She turned away from him and sighed. “They’ll remember me as the girl who got pooped on.”
He patted her shoulder before settling back in his seat. “That’ll be the part where everyone starts to cry during the Becky tribute.”
She grinned. He always found a way to make her smile against her better judgment. She was kind of glad that if she had to be stuck somewhere, it was with one of her more entertaining co-workers.
“What are you missing tomorrow?” she asked, trying to be heard over the two dueling managers.
“Luckily enough, photoshoot and a few interviews. I can do the interviews over the phone tonight.”
“Lucky is right. Three programs tomorrow. I’m inconveniencing a lot of people.”
“Rain happens, Becky-chan.”
“And if you were missing a taping?”
His phone buzzed with an incoming mail. “I’d be in deep trouble.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said, squinting out the window to watch the palm trees swaying under the wind and the rain.
“Sho-chan says hello.” Aiba snorted. “He also says stay dry.”
--
Everyone else’s flights out had been canceled, and the Hyatt Regency was full of unhappy tourists when they returned. The crew was hauling all the camera equipment back in while the producer was negotiating to get rooms for another night. She and Aiba sat on a bench in the lobby, duffel bags at their feet as they waited for new keycards.
It was nice to just sit and relax and not have to worry about anyone rushing up or taking their picture. She could already see stress melting away from Aiba. He tended to have quite a bit more attention than she did, far more pressure and media focus. He rarely got days off. It was rather sad that it took an act of nature to grant him a reprieve.
“Wonder if they have an indoor pool?” he was mumbling, eyes closed as he leaned back against the wall, completely at peace.
“It’s almost a typhoon out there, and you want to go swimming?”
He shrugged. “Got a better plan?”
She didn’t. Maybe a nap. Maybe three naps. She had her sketch pad too. The way Aiba was sitting with his long legs completely stretched out and his cap sideways would be a funny little drawing she could work on. At the very least, it would be less creepy looking than the way he’d drawn her before.
His eyes were shut, so she slipped her pad and a pencil out of her bag. Maybe it was a different kind of creepy, she thought as she started staring at his jaw line, at the shadows the hat cast across his face. She’d never really looked at him this closely. They usually had on makeup for filming. It was kind of refreshing to see the real Aiba, warts and all. Not that he had warts or anything.
The bottle of water in his hand started to slide down his leg where he’d balanced it, hitting the bench as his breathing started to get heavier. She suppressed a grin at how easily he could fall asleep in a crowded lobby full of grouchy travelers speaking half a dozen languages.
While an obviously honeymooning couple argued in English by the potted plant at her other side, she drew his legs almost comically long, scribbling in a few rips and tears in what would eventually be his jeans. His head started to droop lower and lower until his chin was nearly hitting his chest.
“Aiba-kun,” she mumbled under her breath, sketching the oddly colorful flip-flops he was wearing. “You have cute taste in shoes.”
She didn’t have much time to get lost in her work though because their producer came hurrying over with keycards and a dozen apologies for keeping them waiting. Aiba stirred, blinking slowly as he seemed to realize that he’d been asleep. She closed her sketch pad, hauling her purse up onto her lap and shoving the pad and pencil back inside before he figured out what she’d been up to. Why was she so embarrassed all of a sudden?
Becky took the keycard with a quiet thank you, while Aiba straightened up and hid a yawn behind his hand. “Thanks,” he said, shoving the card into his pocket.
His manager approached, wiggling her cell phone. “Got you in with Wink Up early!”
He nodded, shouldering his bag. Not too much time to relax as a member of Arashi, but Aiba didn’t look surprised or even irritated. It was just the way things went for him, and much as he could annoy her, she had to respect him for that.
“I’ll catch you later,” he said, giving her a little wave before taking the phone and following his manager out of the lobby.
Her own manager looked considerably more flustered as she approached. “They’re trying to find people to replace you on the panels tomorrow.”
She stood, gathering her own things. “Don’t suppose Becky live via satellite from the plane will work in the morning?”
Her manager looked out the lobby doors, and the rain was still falling briskly. “If they cancel the flight tomorrow, I will rent us a boat.”
Becky laughed and followed her manager to the bank of elevators, weaving between tourists. They couldn’t change the weather. It wasn’t worth worrying about since it was out of their hands. “What were you sketching?” her manager asked, and she did her best not to blush again.
“Just the plants in the lobby.”
--
The production staff took everyone out for dinner. And by “out,” it meant the Italian restaurant in the hotel. Nobody batted an eye about charging the whole thing on the NTV corporate card. They were stuck there after all. Becky was disappointed that Aiba hadn’t been able to join them. He was apparently on his third phone interview of the day. Did he ever get to stop working?
“It’s too bad we aren’t filming this,” the director said. “Since Becky-san’s eating chicken.”
She stared at her plate in confusion. “Why?”
The producer chuckled. “We could say you took revenge on that egret!”
The table erupted into laughter, and she shook her head. There was no way they’d let her live this down. She could already imagine the sound effects and the music they’d be playing. Aiba had jumped away from her before he got the second wave of egret poo on his own jumpsuit, and they’d have daring escape music for him too.
“Not funny,” she complained, suddenly wishing she’d opted for some pasta. Then again, if Aiba had been the one to get pooped on, she’d never let him forget it. The whole dinner she’d been thinking about him. She needed to...not do that.
She excused herself shortly thereafter, clutching her leftover chicken. Aiba-kun was just Aiba-kun.
Her manager was cooped up in her room, still trying to figure out Becky's schedule for tomorrow. Even the offer of a free meal hadn’t taken her away from her phone. “You should eat something,” Becky pleaded, opening the styrofoam container and trying to tempt the hardworking woman with the chicken.
“They’ve got Oomasa Aya-san to cover for Waratte Iitomo. She’s promoting something or other already, thank goodness.” The container stayed in Becky’s hands. “We’re still trying to figure something out for Itte Q.”
“So this means you won’t eat?”
The manager held up a coffee cup. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
She left, feeling slightly guilty for inconveniencing staff back home and her manager. Then again, she supposed it was part of the job. One of those worst case scenarios. Chicken under her arm, she fumbled around for her keycard. How glamorous her life was. Sitting in a hotel room in Saipan munching on leftover chicken carbonara!
The door next to hers opened first though, and out came Aiba’s manager talking at a frenzied pace. She should have just swiped the keycard and gone inside to change into her favorite pajamas, but the door was closing slowly, and she decided that she really didn’t need to eat all this leftover chicken herself.
She caught the door with her hand, nearly dropping the container. “Aiba-kun?”
“Yo!”
She entered, keeping the door open with her foot as she held up the container of food. He was sitting at the edge of the bed frowning as he clicked through the channels on the TV. The storm was doing a good job keeping most of them fuzzy or unreachable.
“You didn’t get a chance to eat. Carbonara?”
He turned to see her and was off the bed in an instant, TV remote falling to the carpet with a thud. “Really? For me?”
“Well, it’s my leftovers.”
He gave her a suspicious look as he took the container from her and opened it up. “Leftovers huh?”
She tried to grab it back. “If you don’t want it, I’ll be happy to take it back to my own room.”
He waved her off and pulled it closer. “Three idol magazines and TV Life. One of the TV ones. Or was it two? Ugh, I am so hungry.” He looked pretty blissful with the promise of lukewarm Italian until realization hit. “No fork?”
“What do I look like, your maid?”
Aiba set the food on the desk in the corner of the room and started feeling around in his jean pockets.
“What?” she asked, seeing him grow increasingly alarmed.
“Keycard. I have a bad track record with these things.”
She found it easily on the nightstand between the double beds, waving it. “This keycard?”
“That one,” he said, snatching it from her. “I’m getting a fork.”
She followed him out into the hall, getting out her own keycard. “I hope it tastes okay. If you need to heat it up, take it out of the styrofoam. This one’s not microwave safe.”
“Yeah, I know that,” he said with a laugh, tapping his head with his keycard. “Don’t underestimate the power of Masaki dot com.” He frowned then. “You’re not coming?”
She felt a little warmer with the way he was looking at her, all disappointed. His hair was pretty messy, probably from wearing his hat half the day and laying on the bed talking to magazine reporters for the rest of it. It was really kind of cute. “You need me to help you find a fork?”
He leaned forward until he was teetering at the edge of her personal space, and her palms were getting clammy. “You got a lot of exciting plans tonight?”
Pajamas. Fighting with her TV the same way Aiba had been fighting with his. Falling asleep early, even though she’d had a nap in the afternoon. She put her keycard in her pocket. “Alright, let’s get you a fork.”
--
The fork adventure turned out to be more exciting than she would have thought. They’d made it halfway to the bank of elevators when the lights flickered out overhead. Being on the eighth floor of the hotel really didn’t help.
Dim emergency lights came on all down the hall, bathing the floor in a pale orange glow. “Maybe you should just go without the fork?” she asked.
He smiled. “I’m hungry, Becky, but I’m not on TV right now. I can be a grown-up once in a while!”
She led the way to the stairwell. They took the eight flights down in seriousness, gripping the rail tightly. It was still pretty dark, and they didn’t need to go falling down the stairs. A canceled flight was far more easily dealt with than two broken necks.
The lobby was full again, and the guests were even grouchier. They weaved in and out of people demanding refunds and a woman shouting something about never staying at the hotel again, even though there wasn’t much the Hyatt could do about the weather or the power.
“You might as well just get food while we’re down here,” she told him. “In case the refrigerators are out too?”
“We could have ice cream!”
“You shouldn’t just eat ice cream for dinner,” she said, following him into one of the other restaurants, this one featuring a pretty large buffet. “Do you even have money with you?”
“You are reminding me of Matsujun, and not in a good way right now,” he complained. Other people seemed to have the same idea though. The whole room was being quickly lit with candles by the harried staff as people sat around and ate. Aiba stopped one of the dining room staff. “Are you charging for ice cream?”
The man didn’t understand Japanese, so Aiba tried English.
“Ice cream?” the busy man muttered. “You want ice cream, yes? Sure, take ice cream.”
Aiba thanked the man and turned to her with a rather satisfied grin. “Ha!”
She trailed him over to the soft-serve machine, watching him fill up a cup with some vanilla-chocolate swirl that was rapidly turning into soup. “That looks gross.”
“Oi! I’m hungry!” he protested, tossing on some sprinkles haphazardly in the dim light before grabbing a plastic spoon. “You sure you don’t want any?”
Seeing the way the ice cream was melting in his cup, she was pretty sure she didn’t. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the fork,” she informed him, snatching a plastic one before following him to one of the tables. She was fairly certain he’d forgotten about his need for one as soon as the thought of free ice cream had gone to his brain.
He was focusing on eating as much of his ice cream as he could while it was still solid, so he didn’t say anything. She watched him down spoonful after spoonful, wondering why she was following Aiba Masaki around the Saipan Hyatt Regency during a blackout. But when he started whining noisily about a “brain freeze” and cradled his head in his hands, she remembered why. He needed a babysitter.
“And how old will you be this year, Aiba-san?”
“Twenty-eight,” he grumbled, shoving the cup of ice cream away. It was all liquid at this point anyhow.
--
Aiba complained his way through a second cup of ice cream before they finally headed back. Becky had a feeling that the carbonara left sitting out on the desk wouldn’t look too good when they got to the room, but they had to get back up there first. The lobby was now swarming with police.
“Did they report us missing?” Aiba asked, but they got their answer soon enough when they heard a shout.
A man came running through the crowd, police on his tail. He was headed in their direction, and before she could react, Aiba’s hand clamped down around her wrist, and he tugged her aside, wrapping a protective arm around her.
They stood there unmoving as police tackled the man, clearly an angry guest whose temper had flared out of control. Staff were desperately trying to keep people calm, and Aiba was steadier than she was as the police handcuffed the man and got him up and moving.
“You okay?” he asked.
This had been quite a trip, and all for the little plastic fork in her pocket. “Yeah,” she said, still a bit stunned. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
His hand moved down from her wrist, his fingers linking with hers as he pulled her with him. “Come on, we should get upstairs.”
She didn’t really freak out about him holding her hand until they were on the second floor landing, and she slipped her hand away. What were they doing? What if their managers saw them? “Don’t forget your fork,” she said weakly, holding it out when he turned back in surprise.
“Oh. Thanks.” He took it, nodding his head in appreciation. The lights in the stairwell flickered back on. “Alright! Finally! The TV will be back!”
“But it wasn’t working when we left!”
Aiba’s steps were lighter as he climbed, and she laughed away the strange feelings bubbling in her stomach. She was already missing the almost confident way he’d held her hand in his own. Maybe she was just seeing something that wasn’t there.
--
Climbing the stairs was exhausting, and she was tired when they made it back to their floor.
“If I can’t use the styrofoam,” Aiba was saying as he pulled out his keycard, “then what can I use for a plate?”
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to find her own keycard.
“You’re not coming in?” he asked.
“To...to your room?”
He flushed suddenly. “Oh. I forgot.”
“Forgot?” she asked him, tapping her card against the door. “Forgot what? That I’m a girl?”
“Actually, yeah. I’m used to being in hotels with the other members. We’re always in each other’s rooms. Well,” he hesitated. “I didn’t forget you were a girl. Not entirely. I mean...”
“Aiba-kun,” she said, sliding her keycard in and hearing it beep. “Go eat your food.”
She closed the door behind her, so nervous her hands were shaking as she moved to the bed and set the keycard down on her night table. There were almost a dozen new mails on her phone, and she yawned, answering her manager’s question about where she’d been. “Helping Aiba-san retrieve a fork” was the truth after all.
She changed into her pajamas and settled under the covers. One channel was coming in clearly enough, but it was a cricket match and no matter how many times her dad had tried to explain the sport, it made no sense. Her phone buzzed, and it was a mail from an unknown sender.
“I’m bored!!” was almost immediately followed up with “It’s Aiba~! I got your address from your manager!”
“He’s sending me mail from the next room?” she wondered aloud, chuckling quietly and trying to focus on her phone’s screen even though the combination of bed plus pajamas plus cricket match was making her even more tired.
“How were the leftovers?”
“Great! Thank you~!”
“Watching cricket?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s the only thing on right now!!”
“So bored!! You should come over!!”
She paused. She was makeup-less, in her pajamas and neither of their agencies would be in favor of them fraternizing in one another’s room alone. Even if they were just friends. They were just friends, weren’t they? She didn’t even know what to type in response, fiddling with some of the charms on her phone in her nervousness. Luckily, he beat her to it with another message.
“Can I at least see the picture you drew of me?”
There was no way she could hide under her blanket forever, could she? Eventually, the storm outside would stop, and their flight could leave, and they’d go back home and back to all their responsibilities. And how did he know? He’d been half-asleep and then fully asleep! Hadn’t he?
“It’s not done” she sent back, almost immediately regretting it. She could have lied and said she was drawing a plant. Even her manager had bought that!
His next message surprised her even more.
“If you won’t come over, can I come say good night?”
She hesitated. Say good night? He couldn’t just...stop sending her messages? Maybe he wanted one last chance to make fun of her for serving as a bird bathroom. She wasn’t too fond of him seeing her in her pajamas, but her brain wasn’t coming up with any good excuses.
“Ok.”
Her message had barely sent before she heard his door open next to hers and then his knock. She kicked the covers off, tossing her phone on the bed. “Coming, coming,” she said, hoping her hair didn’t look too horrible.
He was smiling when she undid all three locks and opened the door. “Hello,” he said, seemingly amused about something.
“Hello.”
He scratched his head, trying to nonchalantly check her out in her pajamas. “So.”
Her pulse was racing. “So...good night, Aiba-kun?” He was still watching her, and it was making her self-conscious. Did she have something on her face? “Something else you wanted?”
He caught her off guard, bending down and kissing her so quickly she didn’t process it until he was already leaning back again. All she registered was a brief hint of minty toothpaste. He’d been thoughtful enough to brush after the carbonara.
“I’ve wanted to try that for a while,” he said, looking a little embarrassed himself. “Well, good night.”
“Aiba-kun!” she sputtered as he turned to go back to his room.
“Cute pajamas,” he remarked, slipping his keycard out of his own pajama bottoms. He was gone before she could call for him again.
She stood in the doorway stunned until she heard her phone buzzing. Another mail from Aiba was waiting for her when she got back to bed, feeling incredibly light and almost dizzy from her surprise.
“We should hang out more often when we get home” was followed with half a dozen smily face emoji and a tiny heart.
--
They were viewing the VTR in the studio. “And be sure to watch out for this part,” Aiba called out cheerfully as Becky’s least favorite bird flew into the shot.
The bird did his business, and she watched herself run screaming as Aiba jumped out of the way. The audience and other panelists erupted into laughter at her expense, and Becky was mortified.
She looked over and saw Aiba looking straight at her, even with the cameras rolling. Things were definitely different now. A good different. But that didn't necessarily eliminate his more annoying tendencies.
“How embarrassing!” he mouthed, giving her a wink before turning away to keep watching the VTR.
Becky could only hope the studio lights and makeup would hide her blush.