Never Say The Word But Our Eyes Always Do
Title: Never Say The Word But Our Eyes Always Do
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Matsumoto Jun/Sakurai Sho
Summary: The best solution to loneliness and one of his closest friends didn’t have to be mutually exclusive.
Notes/Warnings: For r_1_ss_a. This is part of her gift for generously donating to help_pakistan. Thank you! This is inspired by Jun's recent message to Sho: "Thank you for always staying until late (as in later than he should have been) listening to discussions together with me, to make up for every time I can't come for the rehearsals."
Sho has to be tired, but he’s stayed the whole time to make sure Jun’s all caught up. With drama filming, he’s had to miss two rehearsals in a row, but he wouldn’t know it since Sho’s been so thorough in filling him in. Sho’s got a brain for details, and Jun’s glad that Sho’s the one helping him out.
“We’ve got about thirty seconds to get from here,” Sho says, gesturing to his laptop screen, “over to this part of the stage.”
“Here?” Jun asks innocently, smudging Sho’s screen a bit as their fingers briefly touch.
Sho makes a face that Jun can’t really read, but he moves his hand to his lap. “Yeah, then there’s a water cue as soon as we all get to that mark.”
“I’m sure I’ll remember,” he says, smiling in thanks as one of the staff members takes away his and Sho’s empty coffee cups.
“I’m sure you will,” Sho says. “But Aiba-chan might need some pyro up his ass to get this bit down.”
Jun snickers a bit, imagining that if Aiba himself was there to hear Sho’s comment that there’d be a rather noisy complaint. But it’s late, and Jun prefers the quiet hum of Sho’s laptop and the shuffling of the staff moving through the room
They’ve gone over a video of the rehearsal footage, and Jun can see clearly where he’ll fit in for this song or that now that the Kokuritsu set list is confirmed. And then there are all the pictures from Sho’s camera he’s uploaded to his laptop, letting the staff fill in gaps where he can’t. Song by song, lights, fireworks, waterworks, everything has been gone over in the minute detail Jun prefers.
But it’s well after midnight now, and Jun’s schedule’s clear enough that he’ll make the next rehearsal session. No need to keep Sho later than necessary tonight. He thanks the staff for working around his schedule as Sho gathers up his things. “I’ll be free tomorrow night if you can think of anything I’ve missed, Matsumoto-san,” Sho says calmly as they head for the exit, staff at their heels.
“Thanks, Sho-kun. I appreciate all you’ve done to help me.”
“Of course,” Sho replies. They get to the door, and a company car’s waiting to get them both home. Sho’s halfway to the car when Jun turns around and looks to the staff apologetically.
“I’ve inconvenienced you all enough. It’s late, I’ll just catch the train,” he insists. Sho closes the car door after himself without even glancing back, and it pulls away.
The staff are worried about his ability to get home on his own, although he’s a grown man and is perfectly capable of taking the train. He’s got a hat and his glasses, and he’s dressed sloppily enough to not get mistaken for who he really is. He just doesn’t need the staff knowing what his real motive is.
“Thank you again for all your hard work,” Jun says, leaving the slightly disappointed staff members in his wake as he leaves the building. And as soon as he’s out of their line of sight, the weariness he’s been feeling after a long day of drama shooting subsides long enough for him to break into a run.
He has to hurry. It’s late, and traffic won’t be that horrible. At least the subway’s more direct, since they’ve been doing some construction at night in the neighborhood. The subway’s nearly empty, and he gets off at the right stop. Not his normal stop, of course, but the stop he’s getting more and more used to.
This thing with Sho - it doesn’t have a name, not anything he can put into words. It’s just something that never made sense before in all the years they’d known each other. Something they both may have wanted but didn’t know how to vocalize without it becoming a mess. But this year or so has changed them. Enough meals together, enough time getting to know one another all over again has led them here. Jun intends to ride it out as long as it’ll last.
Maintaining a steady relationship with anyone is nearly impossible in their business. He and Sho know that better than anyone. It only makes sense to gravitate to someone with the same understanding, the same awareness. Jun just wishes he hadn’t waited over a decade to discover that the best solution to loneliness and one of his closest friends didn’t have to be mutually exclusive.
It’s almost 1:00 when he arrives at the apartment building, quickly counting the correct number of windows up to the right floor. The lights are still off, and through some miracle (and the street construction), he’s managed to get here first. He’s lurking, no doubt about it as he sneaks into the shadows by the rear entrance Sho prefers.
Sure, he’s been presumptuous enough to bring his toothbrush and a change of clothes in his bag, but he’d caught Sho’s eyes during the meeting enough times to know this won’t be that surprising. He adjusts the cap on his head and grins, knowing how grumpy Sho will be when he gets home. But Sho’s kind of fun to fuss over when he’s grumpy.
He hears a car door slam, and thank yous for the driver. Jun waits until the company car pulls away, and Sho’s tugging the keys out of his bag before he steps into the light. Sho’s looking for the rear door key and doesn’t even look up.
“You said you were taking the train,” Sho points out, walking right past him. “You really thought I wouldn’t suspect?”
He shrugs and follows Sho inside. “Well, I couldn’t say to drop me off here with the staff around, could I?”
“True,” Sho answers. They make their way through the quiet corridor to the elevator banks. Sho turns to stare at him while they wait for the doors to open. “Didn’t you have filming all day?”
“Yeah.”
“I said I’d be home tomorrow too.”
The doors open, and they get inside. Jun presses the button for Sho’s floor before he gets a chance to kick him out and send him home. “Well, maybe I wanted to see you tonight. To thank you for your help.”
Sho’s chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip, seeming to consider Jun’s offer as the elevator starts to move. “You already said thank you at the office.”
Jun steps forward, hooking his finger in one of the belt loops of Sho’s jeans. “There are many ways to say thank you. Just like there’s many ways to get me caught up on rehearsals. You didn’t have to take so many pictures and make sure they shot video.”
Sho turns to him and smiles. “I like to be thorough. Don’t want you screwing up and missing a cue.”
“Oh,” he says, giving Sho a little push. “You think I’m that out of practice?”
It’s late, and Sho’s too tired to hide his blush. “Alright, I guess you can stay,” he says as the elevator doors open. “But I didn’t make my bed this morning.”
“Nobody’s perfect.”
He stands behind Sho while he’s turning the key in the lock, teasing his fingers along the collar of Sho’s t-shirt, scratching a bit at the hairs plastered to his neck. “Tickles,” Sho complains as he shrugs Jun away from him and pulls the door open. “Inside, alright?”
He obeys. He should be exhausted. He should really just collapse on Sho’s couch and not move a muscle until morning, but he rarely gets time to con Sho into letting him stay over. If anything, it’s usually Sho staying over by him. “I like your shower,” is usually the excuse, but Jun thinks that Sho feels more comfortable being the one to leave in the morning.
He slips off his sandals and walks ahead while Sho makes all his “it’s late, I’m tired” complaining noises. Jun ignores him and carries his bag straight to Sho’s bathroom. Sho’s changed into a tank top and shorts, leaning against the doorframe by the time Jun’s spitting toothpaste into the sink.
“You sure planned this out, huh?” Sho asks, crossing his arms.
Jun takes another swig of water and spits. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re too domestic,” Sho complains, grabbing his own toothbrush and elbowing him aside. “It’s gross.”
He ruffles Sho’s hair in a way that always annoys him. They’re not usually affectionate, even by fan service standards. Jun makes up for it in private on these rare occasions. If Sho finds it gross, that’s his problem. He never does tell Jun to stop though.
Sho’s room is a mess, and Jun resists the urge to start picking spare pieces of clothes up to put in Sho’s perfectly serviceable hamper. That would also be too “domestic” and thus gross by Sho’s standards. Sho doesn’t want Jun to act like a wife, not that Jun thinks picking up clothes is so foreign a concept for a grown man.
He changes into shorts and a t-shirt, tossing his bag onto another pile of Sho’s discarded clothes after he pulls out his script. If Jun has the nicer shower, Sho has the nicer pillows. He props a few back against the headboard and relaxes, running lines with himself until Sho comes back smelling like soap and mouthwash.
“The light’s bad in here,” Sho worries aloud, fussing with his lamp. “I can bring another one in if it’ll help...”
He closes the script and sets it down beside the bed along with his glasses. “Don’t worry about it. I’m done.”
Sho isn’t satisfied, staring at the lampshade. “You’re sure? I could get one.” He’s pretty sure that Sho will fall asleep standing up before too long, and he leans over to tug the other man down to lie beside him. “I have to get up to turn the overhead light off, you know.”
He keeps Sho pressed down against the mattress, leaning over to brush his lips against Sho’s mouth. He likes it when Sho’s pouting. His lip juts out, an easy target for Jun to graze his teeth against. “I know.”
Sho’s fingers seem to say “I want this just as much” as they skim down Jun’s side, running under the soft cotton shirt to find and claim skin. Sho’s kisses are lazy and slow, and Jun’s doing most of the work. “I want this just as much but...”
“Tired,” Sho mumbles, hands slipping away from Jun’s body to flop wearily against the bed. “It’s late.”
“I know,” Jun says again. He scoots away from Sho and gets up, turning off the light. It always feels right, never as strange as he’d first imagined, when they share a bed. Feeling his way back, he gets under the sheets and pulls them up over both of them. He’s filming a rather romantic scene tomorrow. He should probably get some sleep.
Sho usually saves his own “gross” moments for when the lights are off. Jun’s laying on his back, and Sho’s on his stomach, but Sho wiggles his way close enough so their shoulders are at least touching. Contact is something neither of them can take for granted.
They’ll probably wake up in some cluster of limbs. He’ll have Sho drool on his clothes and maybe even Sho hair in his face. He’ll only let it annoy him a bit. They don’t get nights like this too often. He gives Sho a little nudge. “Thanks again.”
“Hmm?”
“For staying late.”
Sho’s fingers scrape across his wrist briefly. “I’m great, aren’t I?”
It would be rude to give Sho a swift kick and send him to his own floor, so Jun settles for a smile in the dark. “Yeah, you’re wonderful,” he says in a tone that would probably sound rude to anyone but the person beside him.
“Damn right,” Sho mumbles, voice mostly muffled against his pillow. “Night.”
“Night.”
In the morning, Jun finds that Sho actually had anticipated him spending the night all along. Sho’s still sound asleep, but Jun’s favorite coffee creamer’s in the refrigerator and his usual mug’s on the counter when he wanders into the kitchen.
He picks up the mug and smiles. “Gross.”
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Matsumoto Jun/Sakurai Sho
Summary: The best solution to loneliness and one of his closest friends didn’t have to be mutually exclusive.
Notes/Warnings: For r_1_ss_a. This is part of her gift for generously donating to help_pakistan. Thank you! This is inspired by Jun's recent message to Sho: "Thank you for always staying until late (as in later than he should have been) listening to discussions together with me, to make up for every time I can't come for the rehearsals."
Sho has to be tired, but he’s stayed the whole time to make sure Jun’s all caught up. With drama filming, he’s had to miss two rehearsals in a row, but he wouldn’t know it since Sho’s been so thorough in filling him in. Sho’s got a brain for details, and Jun’s glad that Sho’s the one helping him out.
“We’ve got about thirty seconds to get from here,” Sho says, gesturing to his laptop screen, “over to this part of the stage.”
“Here?” Jun asks innocently, smudging Sho’s screen a bit as their fingers briefly touch.
Sho makes a face that Jun can’t really read, but he moves his hand to his lap. “Yeah, then there’s a water cue as soon as we all get to that mark.”
“I’m sure I’ll remember,” he says, smiling in thanks as one of the staff members takes away his and Sho’s empty coffee cups.
“I’m sure you will,” Sho says. “But Aiba-chan might need some pyro up his ass to get this bit down.”
Jun snickers a bit, imagining that if Aiba himself was there to hear Sho’s comment that there’d be a rather noisy complaint. But it’s late, and Jun prefers the quiet hum of Sho’s laptop and the shuffling of the staff moving through the room
They’ve gone over a video of the rehearsal footage, and Jun can see clearly where he’ll fit in for this song or that now that the Kokuritsu set list is confirmed. And then there are all the pictures from Sho’s camera he’s uploaded to his laptop, letting the staff fill in gaps where he can’t. Song by song, lights, fireworks, waterworks, everything has been gone over in the minute detail Jun prefers.
But it’s well after midnight now, and Jun’s schedule’s clear enough that he’ll make the next rehearsal session. No need to keep Sho later than necessary tonight. He thanks the staff for working around his schedule as Sho gathers up his things. “I’ll be free tomorrow night if you can think of anything I’ve missed, Matsumoto-san,” Sho says calmly as they head for the exit, staff at their heels.
“Thanks, Sho-kun. I appreciate all you’ve done to help me.”
“Of course,” Sho replies. They get to the door, and a company car’s waiting to get them both home. Sho’s halfway to the car when Jun turns around and looks to the staff apologetically.
“I’ve inconvenienced you all enough. It’s late, I’ll just catch the train,” he insists. Sho closes the car door after himself without even glancing back, and it pulls away.
The staff are worried about his ability to get home on his own, although he’s a grown man and is perfectly capable of taking the train. He’s got a hat and his glasses, and he’s dressed sloppily enough to not get mistaken for who he really is. He just doesn’t need the staff knowing what his real motive is.
“Thank you again for all your hard work,” Jun says, leaving the slightly disappointed staff members in his wake as he leaves the building. And as soon as he’s out of their line of sight, the weariness he’s been feeling after a long day of drama shooting subsides long enough for him to break into a run.
He has to hurry. It’s late, and traffic won’t be that horrible. At least the subway’s more direct, since they’ve been doing some construction at night in the neighborhood. The subway’s nearly empty, and he gets off at the right stop. Not his normal stop, of course, but the stop he’s getting more and more used to.
This thing with Sho - it doesn’t have a name, not anything he can put into words. It’s just something that never made sense before in all the years they’d known each other. Something they both may have wanted but didn’t know how to vocalize without it becoming a mess. But this year or so has changed them. Enough meals together, enough time getting to know one another all over again has led them here. Jun intends to ride it out as long as it’ll last.
Maintaining a steady relationship with anyone is nearly impossible in their business. He and Sho know that better than anyone. It only makes sense to gravitate to someone with the same understanding, the same awareness. Jun just wishes he hadn’t waited over a decade to discover that the best solution to loneliness and one of his closest friends didn’t have to be mutually exclusive.
It’s almost 1:00 when he arrives at the apartment building, quickly counting the correct number of windows up to the right floor. The lights are still off, and through some miracle (and the street construction), he’s managed to get here first. He’s lurking, no doubt about it as he sneaks into the shadows by the rear entrance Sho prefers.
Sure, he’s been presumptuous enough to bring his toothbrush and a change of clothes in his bag, but he’d caught Sho’s eyes during the meeting enough times to know this won’t be that surprising. He adjusts the cap on his head and grins, knowing how grumpy Sho will be when he gets home. But Sho’s kind of fun to fuss over when he’s grumpy.
He hears a car door slam, and thank yous for the driver. Jun waits until the company car pulls away, and Sho’s tugging the keys out of his bag before he steps into the light. Sho’s looking for the rear door key and doesn’t even look up.
“You said you were taking the train,” Sho points out, walking right past him. “You really thought I wouldn’t suspect?”
He shrugs and follows Sho inside. “Well, I couldn’t say to drop me off here with the staff around, could I?”
“True,” Sho answers. They make their way through the quiet corridor to the elevator banks. Sho turns to stare at him while they wait for the doors to open. “Didn’t you have filming all day?”
“Yeah.”
“I said I’d be home tomorrow too.”
The doors open, and they get inside. Jun presses the button for Sho’s floor before he gets a chance to kick him out and send him home. “Well, maybe I wanted to see you tonight. To thank you for your help.”
Sho’s chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip, seeming to consider Jun’s offer as the elevator starts to move. “You already said thank you at the office.”
Jun steps forward, hooking his finger in one of the belt loops of Sho’s jeans. “There are many ways to say thank you. Just like there’s many ways to get me caught up on rehearsals. You didn’t have to take so many pictures and make sure they shot video.”
Sho turns to him and smiles. “I like to be thorough. Don’t want you screwing up and missing a cue.”
“Oh,” he says, giving Sho a little push. “You think I’m that out of practice?”
It’s late, and Sho’s too tired to hide his blush. “Alright, I guess you can stay,” he says as the elevator doors open. “But I didn’t make my bed this morning.”
“Nobody’s perfect.”
He stands behind Sho while he’s turning the key in the lock, teasing his fingers along the collar of Sho’s t-shirt, scratching a bit at the hairs plastered to his neck. “Tickles,” Sho complains as he shrugs Jun away from him and pulls the door open. “Inside, alright?”
He obeys. He should be exhausted. He should really just collapse on Sho’s couch and not move a muscle until morning, but he rarely gets time to con Sho into letting him stay over. If anything, it’s usually Sho staying over by him. “I like your shower,” is usually the excuse, but Jun thinks that Sho feels more comfortable being the one to leave in the morning.
He slips off his sandals and walks ahead while Sho makes all his “it’s late, I’m tired” complaining noises. Jun ignores him and carries his bag straight to Sho’s bathroom. Sho’s changed into a tank top and shorts, leaning against the doorframe by the time Jun’s spitting toothpaste into the sink.
“You sure planned this out, huh?” Sho asks, crossing his arms.
Jun takes another swig of water and spits. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re too domestic,” Sho complains, grabbing his own toothbrush and elbowing him aside. “It’s gross.”
He ruffles Sho’s hair in a way that always annoys him. They’re not usually affectionate, even by fan service standards. Jun makes up for it in private on these rare occasions. If Sho finds it gross, that’s his problem. He never does tell Jun to stop though.
Sho’s room is a mess, and Jun resists the urge to start picking spare pieces of clothes up to put in Sho’s perfectly serviceable hamper. That would also be too “domestic” and thus gross by Sho’s standards. Sho doesn’t want Jun to act like a wife, not that Jun thinks picking up clothes is so foreign a concept for a grown man.
He changes into shorts and a t-shirt, tossing his bag onto another pile of Sho’s discarded clothes after he pulls out his script. If Jun has the nicer shower, Sho has the nicer pillows. He props a few back against the headboard and relaxes, running lines with himself until Sho comes back smelling like soap and mouthwash.
“The light’s bad in here,” Sho worries aloud, fussing with his lamp. “I can bring another one in if it’ll help...”
He closes the script and sets it down beside the bed along with his glasses. “Don’t worry about it. I’m done.”
Sho isn’t satisfied, staring at the lampshade. “You’re sure? I could get one.” He’s pretty sure that Sho will fall asleep standing up before too long, and he leans over to tug the other man down to lie beside him. “I have to get up to turn the overhead light off, you know.”
He keeps Sho pressed down against the mattress, leaning over to brush his lips against Sho’s mouth. He likes it when Sho’s pouting. His lip juts out, an easy target for Jun to graze his teeth against. “I know.”
Sho’s fingers seem to say “I want this just as much” as they skim down Jun’s side, running under the soft cotton shirt to find and claim skin. Sho’s kisses are lazy and slow, and Jun’s doing most of the work. “I want this just as much but...”
“Tired,” Sho mumbles, hands slipping away from Jun’s body to flop wearily against the bed. “It’s late.”
“I know,” Jun says again. He scoots away from Sho and gets up, turning off the light. It always feels right, never as strange as he’d first imagined, when they share a bed. Feeling his way back, he gets under the sheets and pulls them up over both of them. He’s filming a rather romantic scene tomorrow. He should probably get some sleep.
Sho usually saves his own “gross” moments for when the lights are off. Jun’s laying on his back, and Sho’s on his stomach, but Sho wiggles his way close enough so their shoulders are at least touching. Contact is something neither of them can take for granted.
They’ll probably wake up in some cluster of limbs. He’ll have Sho drool on his clothes and maybe even Sho hair in his face. He’ll only let it annoy him a bit. They don’t get nights like this too often. He gives Sho a little nudge. “Thanks again.”
“Hmm?”
“For staying late.”
Sho’s fingers scrape across his wrist briefly. “I’m great, aren’t I?”
It would be rude to give Sho a swift kick and send him to his own floor, so Jun settles for a smile in the dark. “Yeah, you’re wonderful,” he says in a tone that would probably sound rude to anyone but the person beside him.
“Damn right,” Sho mumbles, voice mostly muffled against his pillow. “Night.”
“Night.”
In the morning, Jun finds that Sho actually had anticipated him spending the night all along. Sho’s still sound asleep, but Jun’s favorite coffee creamer’s in the refrigerator and his usual mug’s on the counter when he wanders into the kitchen.
He picks up the mug and smiles. “Gross.”