Drabble: [Arashi] 39. Summer (Dreams) + Natural
Title: 39. Summer (Dreams)
Character/Rating: Aiba, G
Word Count: 771
Summary: Masaki has a dream once, when he's nine years old. It's not like a dream dream, not like his classmates want to be teachers or police officers or pilots. It's the sleeping kind of dream.
Masaki has a dream once, when he's nine years old. It's not like a dream dream, not like his classmates want to be teachers or police officers or pilots. It's the sleeping kind of dream, the one a little boy has in the midst of midsummer when air lies limply in a haze above pavement, the flowers are bright, and Aiba's mother has opened the narrow window in his room so that cool night air can circulate and let him sleep.
He can't sleep, though.
Masaki rubs his ankle with his foot and stares at the ceiling. He closes his eyes and rubs them until fireworks explode. He opens them again and wonders if he can sneak out without either waking up Yuusuke or his mother or worse, both, although the consequence can't be worse than staring at this ceiling and not being able to fall asleep and wondering why his pitches always kind of veer left and how fishy dinosaurs became land dinosaurs and -- he falls asleep.
He awakens again in an apartment...
Everything is hazy and soft and he knows, in the uncaring way that people do when they realise the fact, that he's in a dream. The walls are white and clean and there's a distinct lack of mess except in little piles and some clothes that are lying scattered on the floor. Two little puppies (cute, Masaki thinks) snuffle in a corner and when Aiba rounds the doorframe the first thing he sees is a giant column of laundry leaning precariously against a closet door.
Huh, Masaki thinks. His laundry looks a lot like that too, when his mom is too busy to check it.
A man shoots out of the room and runs right through him. "Late, late," he yelps, "so late, why did I keep pushing snooze, dumb Aiba-chan!" He pets the puppies, grabs a bag, and trips over several piles of stuff before finally making his way through the front door.
Masaki blinks. Then blinks again, because he's suddenly in a car and how does that work? But it's a dream, so it's okay.
It's a stuffy little van. There's a man with his nose buried in a newspaper who says, "Late again?" his voice wry. A raspy snore comes from a man who's nestled himself in a corner and is sleeping with a baseball cap over his face. "What I wouldn't give to stuff something up his nose..."
"But then Leader wouldn't be able to breathe, Sho-chan!"
"But then he'd stop snoring."
The apartment-man has sprawled over the remaining two seats, breathing heavily. He coughs and then fumbles his way into his bag for a tissue.
"Hay fever again?"
"Forgot my shot."
Guy-with-the-newspaper lowers it and peers over it with suspicious eyes. "Insomnia too?"
"Like Aiba Masaki of Arashi would lose to insomnia!" Apartment-man says, crossing his arms huffily.
Aiba Masaki, Masaki thinks, eyes wide. That's my name! When he looks closer he gets it, suddenly. That's-- that's me! He doesn't know how he missed it before. It's his face, just older and... he wrinkles his nose. I look like Mom! Ew!
The dream moves around him languidly, like watching a movie out of the corner of his eye, like touching silk and letting it slip through your fingers, like watching the tide recede away from the sand. He blinks again and there they are again, the three men from the car and two others, arms around each others' shoulders and jumping up and down. They're in the middle of a large platform - no, in a stadium - and it's summer and so hot, the breeze barely doing anything beyond stirring their hair from their foreheads. Masaki knows, somehow, that they're happy, even though Nino's (Nino?) back hurts and he himself has pulled something in his shoulder and Jun's (who?) going to explode from self-inflicted stress. But they're happy, and Masaki doesn't want to wake up.
The roaring of the crowd sounds like his alarm clock and Masaki thinks, no, wait--
He wakes to the summer breeze coming from his open window. The dream slips through his fingers like water and he forgets their names and faces. "Wait," he says out loud, clutching his awesome baseball blanket, "come on, Maa-kun, remember, it's important, gotta remember!"
"Remember what?" Mom asks, coming in to the room with Yuusuke clutching at her apron.
"I... nothing." Masaki replies sulkily. I can't remember! But it was such a good dream!
He screws his eyes shut and tries to hold on to at least a little bit, but the only thing that comes to mind is the smell of newspapers, a little old man snoring while he fishes, the roar of a crowd in summer, happiness, and a storm.
Title: Natural
Pairings/Rating: Aiba/Jun, G
Word Count: 273
Summary: Aiba has red on his cheeks.
Jun is halfway through his morning bento before he realises that Aiba is sitting nearby him. His chopsticks slide a bit through his fingers and before he knows it there's sauce over his fingers from trying to save them. The reason he didn't notice before this is that for once, Aiba is quiet. Jun licks the sauce from his fingertips.
Aiba's eyes are closed underneath his bangs, shadowed around the corners in deep blue-grey by late nights of work and probably the bad influence of Nino. His neck is goosebumped with cold because the room is chilly, and the only move Aiba has made towards warmth is the utterly ridiculous oversized headphones he has covering his ears. Jun has been trying to ignore the unfashionable ring of fur they have around the edges.
The slight whispery whistle of Aiba's snores is almost lost in the whine of the air conditioner and the quiet hum of music coming from his headphones. But Jun knows it's happening; Aiba's mouth is slightly open, his dull red lips chapped in a way that'll get him yelled at. As much as the bags around Aiba's eyes are large, so are the patches of natural red healthiness on his cheeks and, inexplicably, Jun reaches out with a wet finger.
When he touches Aiba's skin, Aiba's eyes slide open slowly and flutter stupidly, Jun thinks, causing the corners of his eyes to crease even more.
"What?" Aiba says, quietly and sleepily. It's not exactly a question.
"Nothing," Jun answers, brushing the pads of his fingers over Aiba's cheek. It's warm.
Aiba turns towards Jun's hand, his whole body tilting, awakening. "Okay," he says, and smiles.
Character/Rating: Aiba, G
Word Count: 771
Summary: Masaki has a dream once, when he's nine years old. It's not like a dream dream, not like his classmates want to be teachers or police officers or pilots. It's the sleeping kind of dream.
Masaki has a dream once, when he's nine years old. It's not like a dream dream, not like his classmates want to be teachers or police officers or pilots. It's the sleeping kind of dream, the one a little boy has in the midst of midsummer when air lies limply in a haze above pavement, the flowers are bright, and Aiba's mother has opened the narrow window in his room so that cool night air can circulate and let him sleep.
He can't sleep, though.
Masaki rubs his ankle with his foot and stares at the ceiling. He closes his eyes and rubs them until fireworks explode. He opens them again and wonders if he can sneak out without either waking up Yuusuke or his mother or worse, both, although the consequence can't be worse than staring at this ceiling and not being able to fall asleep and wondering why his pitches always kind of veer left and how fishy dinosaurs became land dinosaurs and -- he falls asleep.
He awakens again in an apartment...
Everything is hazy and soft and he knows, in the uncaring way that people do when they realise the fact, that he's in a dream. The walls are white and clean and there's a distinct lack of mess except in little piles and some clothes that are lying scattered on the floor. Two little puppies (cute, Masaki thinks) snuffle in a corner and when Aiba rounds the doorframe the first thing he sees is a giant column of laundry leaning precariously against a closet door.
Huh, Masaki thinks. His laundry looks a lot like that too, when his mom is too busy to check it.
A man shoots out of the room and runs right through him. "Late, late," he yelps, "so late, why did I keep pushing snooze, dumb Aiba-chan!" He pets the puppies, grabs a bag, and trips over several piles of stuff before finally making his way through the front door.
Masaki blinks. Then blinks again, because he's suddenly in a car and how does that work? But it's a dream, so it's okay.
It's a stuffy little van. There's a man with his nose buried in a newspaper who says, "Late again?" his voice wry. A raspy snore comes from a man who's nestled himself in a corner and is sleeping with a baseball cap over his face. "What I wouldn't give to stuff something up his nose..."
"But then Leader wouldn't be able to breathe, Sho-chan!"
"But then he'd stop snoring."
The apartment-man has sprawled over the remaining two seats, breathing heavily. He coughs and then fumbles his way into his bag for a tissue.
"Hay fever again?"
"Forgot my shot."
Guy-with-the-newspaper lowers it and peers over it with suspicious eyes. "Insomnia too?"
"Like Aiba Masaki of Arashi would lose to insomnia!" Apartment-man says, crossing his arms huffily.
Aiba Masaki, Masaki thinks, eyes wide. That's my name! When he looks closer he gets it, suddenly. That's-- that's me! He doesn't know how he missed it before. It's his face, just older and... he wrinkles his nose. I look like Mom! Ew!
The dream moves around him languidly, like watching a movie out of the corner of his eye, like touching silk and letting it slip through your fingers, like watching the tide recede away from the sand. He blinks again and there they are again, the three men from the car and two others, arms around each others' shoulders and jumping up and down. They're in the middle of a large platform - no, in a stadium - and it's summer and so hot, the breeze barely doing anything beyond stirring their hair from their foreheads. Masaki knows, somehow, that they're happy, even though Nino's (Nino?) back hurts and he himself has pulled something in his shoulder and Jun's (who?) going to explode from self-inflicted stress. But they're happy, and Masaki doesn't want to wake up.
The roaring of the crowd sounds like his alarm clock and Masaki thinks, no, wait--
He wakes to the summer breeze coming from his open window. The dream slips through his fingers like water and he forgets their names and faces. "Wait," he says out loud, clutching his awesome baseball blanket, "come on, Maa-kun, remember, it's important, gotta remember!"
"Remember what?" Mom asks, coming in to the room with Yuusuke clutching at her apron.
"I... nothing." Masaki replies sulkily. I can't remember! But it was such a good dream!
He screws his eyes shut and tries to hold on to at least a little bit, but the only thing that comes to mind is the smell of newspapers, a little old man snoring while he fishes, the roar of a crowd in summer, happiness, and a storm.
Title: Natural
Pairings/Rating: Aiba/Jun, G
Word Count: 273
Summary: Aiba has red on his cheeks.
Jun is halfway through his morning bento before he realises that Aiba is sitting nearby him. His chopsticks slide a bit through his fingers and before he knows it there's sauce over his fingers from trying to save them. The reason he didn't notice before this is that for once, Aiba is quiet. Jun licks the sauce from his fingertips.
Aiba's eyes are closed underneath his bangs, shadowed around the corners in deep blue-grey by late nights of work and probably the bad influence of Nino. His neck is goosebumped with cold because the room is chilly, and the only move Aiba has made towards warmth is the utterly ridiculous oversized headphones he has covering his ears. Jun has been trying to ignore the unfashionable ring of fur they have around the edges.
The slight whispery whistle of Aiba's snores is almost lost in the whine of the air conditioner and the quiet hum of music coming from his headphones. But Jun knows it's happening; Aiba's mouth is slightly open, his dull red lips chapped in a way that'll get him yelled at. As much as the bags around Aiba's eyes are large, so are the patches of natural red healthiness on his cheeks and, inexplicably, Jun reaches out with a wet finger.
When he touches Aiba's skin, Aiba's eyes slide open slowly and flutter stupidly, Jun thinks, causing the corners of his eyes to crease even more.
"What?" Aiba says, quietly and sleepily. It's not exactly a question.
"Nothing," Jun answers, brushing the pads of his fingers over Aiba's cheek. It's warm.
Aiba turns towards Jun's hand, his whole body tilting, awakening. "Okay," he says, and smiles.