#21: Fic: Your Home Is Your Castle!, G
Title: Your Home Is Your Castle!
Fandom: Arashi
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Summary: Ohno really wants to build a house. So he does.
Disclaimer: All not mine.
Notes: Thanks to forochel for looking through this. Written for picfor1000, based on this prompt.
There was a bag of doughnuts on his kitchen table when Ohno got out of the shower.
He knew they weren't from his mother, because she always bought the sort where the dough was twisted around itself; these were the normal kind, from an unknown bakery, wrapped in a brown paper bag that had not yet begun to betray sodden patches of oil. He opened the top and peered in at them - still-warm, cinnamon and soft heat, slightly melted sugar dusting sticky to touch. The doughnut he removed was not quite a circle, but when he bit into it the crust gave just like he expected it to, perfect texture in imperfect shape.
The average Japanese house lasts for approximately forty-four years, according to Sho.
"Basically, you're buying the land," he told Ohno, "Most people choose to rebuild - you should, too; this one was constructed before they put in the latest earthquake regulations."
He took a loan from the company because his life savings hadn't quite been enough to cover everything. When the president asked him what had inspired him to purchase a permanent home, he squirmed a bit in the large office chair and mumbled something vague about putting down roots somewhere. Two days later the money was in his bank account.
Sho had been the one to find him a good carpenter, a distracted old man named Takayama who had assured Ohno that his house would last a hundred years. Ohno fell in love with it the moment he set eyes on the preliminary sketches; loved its tricky little false ceilings and delicate beams, the way the rooms and corridors formed a compact huddle of spaces.
"Let's have a sleepover!" said Aiba, even though it wasn't his house.
"I don't see how that's possible," replied Jun, dry even over the faint static of their conference call, "Since you're not actually in Japan."
Their work in the recent months had scattered them; the last time Ohno had seen anyone else had been two weeks ago, when Sho had come for his stageplay. Aiba was off feeding fairy penguins in Adelaide; Nino had a movie and Jun his drama, both shuttling off to other parts for location shoots and, in Nino's case, long days in the cold.
Only Ohno seemed to stay in the same place, not so much tethered as he was the anchor, both home and harbour at thirty years of age, kept in position by the close gravity of missing Arashi.
Some mornings, he discovered shortbread on the coffee table, biscotti in a ziplock bag placed carefully on top of his unused umbrella stand. It was a trade of treats for time in Ohno's house; meringues for a nap on Ohno's sofa and a quick flip through his magazines; ginger snaps for two cups of tea.
Ohno tracked these temporary inhabitants through the trail they left behind: picking up displaced blankets and stacked-up back issues where they had previously been scattered, finding a used sachet in the bin and his spare mugs still damp on the drying rack.
"It seems I've got houseguests," said Ohno when Sho asked him how everything was working out.
"Who?" asked Sho.
"I don't know," said Ohno.
"It is not easy," said Sho in a tone bordering on exasperation, "To install motion sensors and intrusion detectors in a traditional-style house."
Ohno considered this for a moment.
"What I mean is, you might actually want to use them."
"Okay," said Ohno.
The next morning, he left a bowl of chahan on the table with instructions for reheating.
It was on a Tuesday that Ohno identified one intruder.
Nino slept like a cat Ohno's sister had once owned, with his legs curled together and arms sprawled out in front of him, brow slightly furrowed as if concentrating even in dreams. Ohno found him like this when he returned home after an early morning shoot: fast asleep on Ohno's bed and still wearing the plaid shirt and silver pants that Matsujun had picked at critically before Music Bank earlier that day.
His sister's cat had been gorgeous in slumber but crabby when awoken - much like Nino, Ohno thought distantly - which was partly why he chose to merely remove Nino's socks and slightly crushed cap before wandering off to doze on the sofa.
A few hours later he was jolted awake by the sound of his alarm clock beeping frantically in an empty house. Sitting on the coffee table were ten bright red macarons in a plastic airtight container.
"I know someone who can install CCTV in your front garden," Sho told him, "Her rates are very competitive."
"I don't need CCTV," said Ohno.
"You also need," Sho continued, "To actually remember the code for your security system."
Ohno tried not to look guilty.
"I know," said Sho.
He returned from an afternoon of grocery shopping to find the a woman in overalls standing outside his house, in the middle of helping Sho climb over Ohno's front gate.
"In most cases, a regular phone call would suffice," he told Sho, after watching him tumble off it.
"There's someone in there," said Sho, scrambling to his feet. "We heard noises."
"He wants to apprehend the culprit," the CCTV technician added helpfully.
It appeared, on entry, that there were three trespassers rather than one, and while Sho crept down the entryway Ohno examined his shoe cupboard and figured there was nothing to worry about.
There was, after all, only one person Ohno knew who would wear mustard-coloured spangly dress shoes of his own volition.
And this was how Ohno held a housewarming party without even planning one: Aiba wandered out of the guest room to inform Sho that Jun was currently taking a shower, and the CCTV technician sat down on a pile of cushions in the living area that turned out to be hiding a very cross Nino. While Sho attempted to get over his utter shock, Ohno discovered the large apple pie in his refrigerator.
"I brought drinks," said Aiba, "And penguin keychains."
"Whatever for?" asked Sho, after he had calmed down considerably.
Nino tossed something over at Sho, which landed on the floor with a clatter. "Our extra keys."
--------------
In the making of Aozora Pedal, Ohno tells the cameraman at one point: "I feel like building a house. Really. I'm seriously considering it." And it all went downhill from there.
Fandom: Arashi
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Summary: Ohno really wants to build a house. So he does.
Disclaimer: All not mine.
Notes: Thanks to forochel for looking through this. Written for picfor1000, based on this prompt.
There was a bag of doughnuts on his kitchen table when Ohno got out of the shower.
He knew they weren't from his mother, because she always bought the sort where the dough was twisted around itself; these were the normal kind, from an unknown bakery, wrapped in a brown paper bag that had not yet begun to betray sodden patches of oil. He opened the top and peered in at them - still-warm, cinnamon and soft heat, slightly melted sugar dusting sticky to touch. The doughnut he removed was not quite a circle, but when he bit into it the crust gave just like he expected it to, perfect texture in imperfect shape.
The average Japanese house lasts for approximately forty-four years, according to Sho.
"Basically, you're buying the land," he told Ohno, "Most people choose to rebuild - you should, too; this one was constructed before they put in the latest earthquake regulations."
He took a loan from the company because his life savings hadn't quite been enough to cover everything. When the president asked him what had inspired him to purchase a permanent home, he squirmed a bit in the large office chair and mumbled something vague about putting down roots somewhere. Two days later the money was in his bank account.
Sho had been the one to find him a good carpenter, a distracted old man named Takayama who had assured Ohno that his house would last a hundred years. Ohno fell in love with it the moment he set eyes on the preliminary sketches; loved its tricky little false ceilings and delicate beams, the way the rooms and corridors formed a compact huddle of spaces.
"Let's have a sleepover!" said Aiba, even though it wasn't his house.
"I don't see how that's possible," replied Jun, dry even over the faint static of their conference call, "Since you're not actually in Japan."
Their work in the recent months had scattered them; the last time Ohno had seen anyone else had been two weeks ago, when Sho had come for his stageplay. Aiba was off feeding fairy penguins in Adelaide; Nino had a movie and Jun his drama, both shuttling off to other parts for location shoots and, in Nino's case, long days in the cold.
Only Ohno seemed to stay in the same place, not so much tethered as he was the anchor, both home and harbour at thirty years of age, kept in position by the close gravity of missing Arashi.
Some mornings, he discovered shortbread on the coffee table, biscotti in a ziplock bag placed carefully on top of his unused umbrella stand. It was a trade of treats for time in Ohno's house; meringues for a nap on Ohno's sofa and a quick flip through his magazines; ginger snaps for two cups of tea.
Ohno tracked these temporary inhabitants through the trail they left behind: picking up displaced blankets and stacked-up back issues where they had previously been scattered, finding a used sachet in the bin and his spare mugs still damp on the drying rack.
"It seems I've got houseguests," said Ohno when Sho asked him how everything was working out.
"Who?" asked Sho.
"I don't know," said Ohno.
"It is not easy," said Sho in a tone bordering on exasperation, "To install motion sensors and intrusion detectors in a traditional-style house."
Ohno considered this for a moment.
"What I mean is, you might actually want to use them."
"Okay," said Ohno.
The next morning, he left a bowl of chahan on the table with instructions for reheating.
It was on a Tuesday that Ohno identified one intruder.
Nino slept like a cat Ohno's sister had once owned, with his legs curled together and arms sprawled out in front of him, brow slightly furrowed as if concentrating even in dreams. Ohno found him like this when he returned home after an early morning shoot: fast asleep on Ohno's bed and still wearing the plaid shirt and silver pants that Matsujun had picked at critically before Music Bank earlier that day.
His sister's cat had been gorgeous in slumber but crabby when awoken - much like Nino, Ohno thought distantly - which was partly why he chose to merely remove Nino's socks and slightly crushed cap before wandering off to doze on the sofa.
A few hours later he was jolted awake by the sound of his alarm clock beeping frantically in an empty house. Sitting on the coffee table were ten bright red macarons in a plastic airtight container.
"I know someone who can install CCTV in your front garden," Sho told him, "Her rates are very competitive."
"I don't need CCTV," said Ohno.
"You also need," Sho continued, "To actually remember the code for your security system."
Ohno tried not to look guilty.
"I know," said Sho.
He returned from an afternoon of grocery shopping to find the a woman in overalls standing outside his house, in the middle of helping Sho climb over Ohno's front gate.
"In most cases, a regular phone call would suffice," he told Sho, after watching him tumble off it.
"There's someone in there," said Sho, scrambling to his feet. "We heard noises."
"He wants to apprehend the culprit," the CCTV technician added helpfully.
It appeared, on entry, that there were three trespassers rather than one, and while Sho crept down the entryway Ohno examined his shoe cupboard and figured there was nothing to worry about.
There was, after all, only one person Ohno knew who would wear mustard-coloured spangly dress shoes of his own volition.
And this was how Ohno held a housewarming party without even planning one: Aiba wandered out of the guest room to inform Sho that Jun was currently taking a shower, and the CCTV technician sat down on a pile of cushions in the living area that turned out to be hiding a very cross Nino. While Sho attempted to get over his utter shock, Ohno discovered the large apple pie in his refrigerator.
"I brought drinks," said Aiba, "And penguin keychains."
"Whatever for?" asked Sho, after he had calmed down considerably.
Nino tossed something over at Sho, which landed on the floor with a clatter. "Our extra keys."
--------------
In the making of Aozora Pedal, Ohno tells the cameraman at one point: "I feel like building a house. Really. I'm seriously considering it." And it all went downhill from there.