Changes in the Dark
Title: Changes in the Dark
Genre: Romance, Friendship
Pairing: Aimiya
Rating: NC-17 (very light)
Disclaimer: I do not know or own Arashi. None of this ever happened.
A/N: To the bestliest best kokkaii I know. Happy Birthday!!
Beta'ed by the never-psychic eva_lee
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“Not another spiny!” Nino shouts at the tiny TV in his bedroom, furiously pressing the buttons of his famicom controller with a zeal that only two-dimensional enemies can inspire. Aiba laughs breathily beside him, though Nino has no idea why - Luigi died about three turns back. The slightly older boy (a whole six months, Nino would argue if he wasn't so absorbed in dodging the tiny pink creatures) presses against him, winding an arm around Nino's shoulders as he revels in Nino's upcoming failure. It happens faster than he can blink; Mario dies and Nino is left shouting “Damn you, Lakitu!” at the screen. Just as he slings the controller across the floor in annoyance, everything goes black around them and Nino stills.
“Nino, I think you broke it,” Aiba whispers in his ear, shaky and more than a little freaked out. He doesn't relinquish his hold on Nino, but rather goes out of his way to reign Nino in tighter, an arm settling around the slighter boy's front to match with the one already around his back. They've always been like this with each other, but this is the first time Nino actually feels like shrugging him off.
“I didn't break it, you idiot,” Nino says as he pulls away from Aiba. He can't afford to be that close... not when, well, he just can't. That's what this night is for after all - to mend the weirdness between them that had seemingly cropped up in their last year of high school. They'd been best friends since diapers and Nino wasn't about to let the fact that the contents of his pants had decided that its next target was Aiba ruin what they'd had all these long years. He'd tried distancing himself for a while, but ultimately Aiba had noticed and Nino just hadn't been able to stay away.
There's a sound on the staircase outside and suddenly the door flies open, startling them both. The two look up with wide eyes to see Nino's mother standing in the doorway, holding a flashlight just under her chin like she's at a campfire telling scary stories. “I swear, you're more of a girl than your sister is,” his mom says over her own fit of giggles and Aiba's.
It takes Nino no more than five seconds to realize he'd jumped into Aiba's lap, his arms secured around the other man's neck this time. Carefully he crawls off and fixes his parent with the most scathing glare he can muster; it has no effect.
“Don't look at me like that. All I did was come in here to give you this,” she says and tosses a flashlight in the room. It bounces off of Nino's leg with an audible thud before rolling across the floor in front of him. He scrambles to find it in the darkness when his mother turns away, sliding the door shut behind her.
“Thanks, mom!” Aiba calls out cheerfully as she shuffles down the staircase. They don't hear from her again for the rest of the night, which suits Nino just fine; he's got enough to worry about as it is without his mom walking in every few minutes.
“So,” Aiba says, startling Nino out of his thoughts, “what are we gonna do now?”
“Is it my job to entertain you?” Nino scoffs, flicking the flashlight on and training it full on Aiba's face. The taller boy winces, shielding his eyes from the light, and reaches forward with his other hand to alter the general direction. “Looks like playing more games is out of the question,” Nino sighs when the light bounces off the television screen.
“I brought manga,” Aiba suggests, holding up a battered volume of Dragonball.
Nino shakes his head and flops back on the carpeted floor, his feet tangling with the controller cords as he points the flashlight toward the ceiling. “It's too dark to read anything.”
He's surprised when moments later, Aiba's heavy body (heavier than Nino's anyway) is draped over his stomach, taking in all his warmth. Aiba wraps his arms around the smaller body and makes a contented sigh as he cuddles with Nino like he's a pillow. Nino smacks him upside the head. “We used to do this all the time as kids,” Aiba tells him without bothering to move. “I know, I've seen the pictures that can prove it.”
Nino knows too. His mother likes to break them out when he has friends over.
He mumbles something about it being embarrassing and feels Aiba's laughter rumbling through his abdomen long before he hears it. “There are more embarrassing ones out there and you know it,” Aiba counters, shifting his hands against Nino's torso as though he can't decide where to hold him. “Like the one of us in the bath together. Does your mom still have that one?”
“Unfortunately,” Nino responds with as little enthusiasm as humanly possible. They couldn't have been any more than three or four, with a smattering of rubber ducks and toy plastic boats that were covered in colored bubbles. “You accidentally peed in the water and your mom had to scoop us out and wash us all over again.”
“You remember that?” Aiba's laughter grows by the second and as he shakes, so does Nino. He raises himself off Nino, just enough to move, and scoots his body along the shorter boy's until he is head to head with him, a hand tracing fingertips up and down the line of Nino's neck. “What else do you remember, Nino-chan?”
Nino rolls his eyes, mostly to hide the strange stirrings in his body, the way he secretly hopes Aiba might move a little closer. He clicks the flashlight on and off, filling and voiding the room of light. “I remember that you colored pictures all over the wall by the end of my bed with crayons and mom found it the next morning. I had to spend the rest of the day scrubbing it because she didn't believe it wasn't me. And unless I'm mistaken, your art was mostly crude renderings of poop and penises.”
“I did the same thing in my house and blamed it on Yuu-chan. Didn't work so well since he couldn't walk yet.”
“No doubt.”
Aiba brings his hand up to feather through the ends of Nino's hair at his nape, sighing lightly against the shell of Nino's ear. “Hey,” he says just above a whisper, “do you want to know what I remember?”
He knows he should push Aiba away, but for the life of him, Nino can't find the words or the strength to do it. Instead he lets his silence speak for him as he stares at the ceiling, going over every contour - from the crack that runs the length of his room to the cobwebs around his light fixture - with the aid of his flashlight. His mom had been after him to clean it for some time, but laziness always won out in the end.
“I remember the first day of kindergarten,” Aiba says softly against him. “You pushed Ayumi-chan into the mud because she said she wanted to marry me. She cried for an hour after that and you had to sit in time out. The look on your face was priceless, all scrunched up and angry. I don't think I've ever seen you so angry. I couldn't stop laughing after that.”
Nino scoffs. “There I was protecting your honor and you had the nerve to laugh at my misfortune?”
“Is that what it was?” Aiba asks in a tone of teasing disbelief. “I was under the impression you wanted to keep me for yourself.” Nino freezes; he doesn't tell Aiba that he would if he could.
There are a lot of other things he doesn't tell Aiba: how he's not sure if the way Aiba's pressed up against his side is a good or bad thing; how he wishes he were brave enough to reach up and wind his thin arms around Aiba's waist; how he would love for them to fall asleep like that, twisted around each other. But if he were to fall asleep, the night would fly by that much faster and there is the possibility they'll never have this kind of moment again.
“What's with this trip down memory lane?” he asks instead, trying to keep his irritation at a minimum. He's known the other boy long enough to know that if he gets angry, Aiba will be across the room in a second, clutching to a pillow and laughing at himself awkwardly. He doesn't want Aiba to move away just yet.
“Well, I just remember a lot, is all.” Aiba stills, his hand at he junction where Nino's shirt meets his skin. His fingers dance over the hem, unsure of where he's going, how far he feels like testing. “Like how you used to call me Masaki,” he adds, straightening a wrinkle in the collar. Somehow Nino is disappointed.
“You used to call me Kazu,” he counters, letting the flashlight go rolling across the floor.
Aiba giggles. “I did, didn't I? I guess things just change like that.”
Guilt washes over Nino at the prospect of feeling attracted to someone he's spent so many innocent days with. Nino can't help but feel as though he's destroyed something important between them, something they can never get back. He resolves to bury it deep inside. They can't be children forever, and probably hadn't been in quite a few years (Aiba is already eighteen, a voice in his mind rings), but he can keep their memories precious at least.
Aiba lifts his upper body so that he can stare down at Nino in the dark and it's hard to see, but Nino can just make out the light fringe of his bangs as they hang down just above his forehead. “You think too much.” Aiba tweaks his nose and Nino knows he's not being serious at all. “I never know what you're thinking at all.”
Nino fights the urge to laugh as his eyes roll upward derisively. Of all the stupid things he'd ever heard- “You know what I'm thinking better than anyone else on this planet,” he refutes as though it's common knowledge and only Aiba is missing out. And then his words hit him just like that. Aiba already knows.
In the next few seconds Nino knows he's gone from an only somewhat pale (it is baseball season, after all) to a tomato red, and he's thankful that Aiba cannot see. He can't bear it though; it's nearly intolerable so he pushes Aiba violently off of him and scrambles up to sit at the corner of his bed, against the wall for some kind of support. “What the hell are you going on about?” he asks with a fake laugh, even though he'd been the one talking to begin with.
Things are brighter on his bed, just under the window where the moonlight spills in and Nino can see Aiba's face a little more clearly. He's serious - more serious than Nino's ever seen him - as he slinks and crawls up onto the edge.
Nino has a pillow clutched to his chest, sitting on his haunches as best he can on the lumpy mattress. (It's old and he hasn't asked his mom to replace it in forever.) This position seems to be a favorite of both when they're scared or embarrassed or just plain trying to hide something and Nino cant help but roll his eyes at the thought. There had been many times when they'd both sit pressed into the corner, holding onto each other behind a pillow (it had seemed much larger at the time), but Nino doubts they'll both fit at this age.
That doesn't stop Aiba from creeping forward.
Nino sits back, his spine against the wall under the window and his knees are pulled forward, but there's enough room between his legs and his chest for Aiba to place a hand down on Nino's other side, keeping him from escape a second time. He's not sure there's any place to run to anyway. “Hey Nino-chan,” Aiba says; it's more of a whisper, warm against Nino's skin. He noses at Nino's hair, his breath tickling the outside of Nino's ear. “You know, sometimes change can be really good.”
There's a kiss laid at Nino's jaw, light and feathery, so he closes his eyes tightly and prays that it's a dream, and if it is, that it will never end. Because Aiba can't know what he's feeling, can't be there in his little space, can't be spoiling Nino with a series of sweet kisses up and down his neck. Nino knows it can't be real.
“Stop it,” he says immediately and forces Aiba back enough that he has room to breathe. “Just stop it.”
“Oh... I thought...” Aiba's voice is hesitant, scared even, and filled with a self-doubt that Nino hates. The taller boy's hands wring in his lap, as though he's been mistaken all along, and his vision swims around the sheets under them, unable to look up again. “I'm sorry Nino,” he concludes.
An apology isn't what Nino wants though. Nor does he want the attention (the kissing, and everything else) to end. As much of a physical person as he is, Nino feels for the first time that he needs to hear an explanation. “Why?” he asks. “Why are you doing this now?”
“Because I thought Nino...”
“No,” Nino shuts him down before he can continue along that train of thought. “Why are YOU doing this now?”
Aiba looks up, and again he knows, because one look is all it takes. His hands stop wringing, clutching instead at the fabric of his own shorts as he thinks about his answer earnestly. “Isn't this the next step?” Aiba asks. “I mean, we've been together since forever and you're my best friend and there's no one else and there will never be anyone else and I just thought...”
Nino blinks. He hadn't expected that at all. “Leave it to you to have it all figured out,” he mumbles just loud enough for Aiba to hear.
“Right?” Aiba sounds as though he's reigning in all his excitement. He reaches forward stealthily and takes Nino's hand in his, just holding him, threading their fingers together for the time being, until they're both certain of what's happening between them.
It can't be bad, Nino thinks, if Aiba wants it too, right? Change is inevitable and they can't go back to being children. Would he even want to now that there is so much more to explore? Nino carefully nudges the pillow away to the side and leans forward onto his knees. Aiba's taller than him in this position, so he has to look up to see the older boy's expression. “Hey, close your eyes for a minute,” Nino tells him softly.
“Why?” Aiba's brows quirk.
“Just do it.” Nino doesn't want to sound forceful, but he has no other outlet for his embarrassment, so it comes out all at once. Luckily Aiba seems to catch the urgency in his voice and long lashes flutter shut while full lips part ever so slightly. Shakily, Nino raises a hand and brings it around the back of Aiba's neck to settle at the fine hairs there. He plays like that for a while, his vision tracing the contours of Aiba's face, taking in every detail while he stalls what he knows has to happen next.
“Nino-chan,” Aiba whispers, “are you going to kiss me?”
Nino thinks it would be absolutely uncool if he didn't by that point, so he leans in, partly because he wants to and partly to shut Aiba up. Their mouths meet: awkwardly still, stiff and unmoving. It's both the best and worst kiss Nino has ever experienced.
When Nino backs away, his eyelids are clenched shut, too afraid to look at his friend. “That was horrible,” he says without thinking. He gulps in a large amount of air upon realization and his eyes fly open.
“That's because you're too tense,” Aiba says. He takes Nino by the wrist and tugs him forward, situating them both until Nino's just about straddling him. Nino doesn't see how the position is any less awkward, but he allows Aiba to guide him forward, placing his arms over the older boy's shoulders. Aiba reaches around Nino's waist and holds him tight in an embrace. “There's no reason for us to be so weird, is there?” Aiba asks, running his hands up and down Nino's back comfortingly. “I'm me and you're you and we've always been us, right?”
Nino nods from where he's laid his forehead against Aiba's shoulder. They've always been touchy-feely in their friendship, from hand holding to leaning against one another, and even the (more than) occasional hug. The hands at his back calm him and he's grateful for it, even if he knows that Aiba is scared too.
Eventually though, his nerves subside and he feels like trying again. Nino lifts his head and faces Aiba straight on, brown eyes to brown eyes. It's a bit mesmerizing, but he can't think of anything except the warmth that floods through him and the way Aiba leans forward as much as he can to meet him. When their lips touch again it's still awkward, but Nino puts in more effort and soon they're gliding with a bit of heated moisture, kiss after kiss until they're both breathless.
“Better?” Aiba nudges the collar of Nino's shirt with his nose until a more satisfactory amount of skin is exposed and begins leaving light kisses along the path. Nino wants to ask how Aiba knows just what to do.
“Better,” he answers instead.
There's a moment shared between them of simple, gentle touches, unspoken words, and Nino lets out a shaky laugh, letting the tension roll off his shoulders. Aiba's following smile is brighter than the absent sun and Nino does his best to mirror it, though nothing can ever compare. They hold each other a little closer now, a little more resolved to keep going, as though they'd been waiting their whole lives to accumulate and evolve into something more.
When they kiss again, it's at a slower pace, smooth and frightening at the same time, but with a contented presence they can’t seem to get enough of. Neither is particularly skilled at what they're doing, but they're willing to take the time and learn with even slower movements. Aiba's fingers trace the line of the hem at the bottom of Nino's shirt, grazing bare skin lightly until he gathers the courage necessary to push his clammy hands under the fabric and over Nino's boney expanse.
Nino shivers against Aiba's mouth at the contact, his bottom lip quaking as the older boy takes the opportunity to invade. Their tongues meet tentatively, reaching out to assure that, yes - this is okay, and Nino recognizes the flavor of curry they'd eaten earlier. Aiba breaks away and tells Nino he'd wanted seconds anyway.
There's no reason to stop because they both trust each other implicitly and that's the most important thing. Or at least that's what Nino thinks to himself when a voice creeps up and tells him he might want to rethink doing this in his mother's home. He quashes it back down in favor of stealing another long kiss, drawing a sort of breathy whine from the very back of Aiba's throat.
Nino's shirt begins climbing and climbing at Aiba's insistence, until he is forced to lift his arms and accept the fact that it is coming off. Cool air hits him moments later, but it's short-lived as Aiba returns his hands to Nino's skin, splayed palms moving at their own leisure to explore. Aiba's still wearing his watch and the wide band of fake-leather offers an interesting contrast to the feel of skin alone.
“Let's ahn-” Nino can't finish the thought as Aiba pulls him closer, feeling the excitement that grows between them, touching where their bodies would be connected if not for the fabric of their pajama pants. It's a thin material, a matching set, and Nino grinds himself against Aiba, if only to elicit an equally embarrassing moan from the taller boy. Aiba doesn't let him down.
“Let's what?” Aiba asks between kisses, the words barely on his mind.
Nino doesn't remember, but he smiles lazily, pressing his palms against Aiba's shoulders to push him down against the mattress. The older falls back with a bounce, his back hitting the sheets and causing their lower halves to jar against each other. The feeling is maddening and they're both certain there's no going back now.
The friction is delightful and they set a steady rhythm as their mouths meet again and Nino hikes up Aiba's shirt - so unfair that it's still on - and takes to exploring his way upward with short fingers and flattened palms. He rakes across the other's stomach, causing Aiba to jump and shriek into his mouth. Of course Aiba's ticklish - he's always known that. Nino does it again anyway.
Aiba takes hold of Nino's wrists and pulls them up until his hands are resting at either side of Aiba's face, holding his slighter body up. There's a reason for this, Nino knows as he leans over Aiba's body, and he's well aware of the long masculine fingers playing at the waistband of his pants. He doesn't have time to protest as Aiba loops his thumbs into the fabric and pushes them down, taking his underwear with them, and exposing him to the naked air.
“You-” Nino's eyes widen, but he doesn't move. “Why the hell are you trying to undress me when you're still wearing all your clothes?”
“Oh?” Aiba asks laughingly. “Was I supposed to be naked too?”
Nino's glad they're teasing each other; he doesn't think he can handle a heavier atmosphere. Still, they've seen each other without clothing before (which in all honesty had caused a few uncomfortable moments for Nino in the past), and there's not much they're unfamiliar with, so he quickly turns off of Aiba and shimmies the rest of the way out of his clothing. Thankfully Aiba gets the message and does the same next to him.
Nothing is graceful as Aiba turns and positions himself above Nino, looking down with a silly grin that fades only as their mouths come together again. They're back to slow, hesitant touches, shielded only by smiles and a bravery that seems to heat within their blood. They meet first with lips, and then hands, arms winding around one another as they strive to be closer, and then their legs tangle as best they can, and the pair learns to move.
Their breathing becomes more and more erratic, the air around them hot, causing a fine sheen of sweat to form on their skin. It's hard to keep kissing when Aiba's hand is traveling lower and lower, so Nino takes to lightly nipping at his neck, playful bites along the line from his jaw to his shoulder. Nino's holding on so tightly, his head and neck and shoulders coming up off the bed, though he knows he has to give Aiba room to work between them. “Touch me already,” he tries not to sound so needy, so clingy, but it's there in his voice.
Aiba adjusts so that he's kneeling over Nino and he takes the shorter one's hand and brings it down between them. Nino doesn't have to look to know; he feels the way Aiba guides him slowly, his hand wrapping around Aiba's length. “So I'll know how Nino-chan likes it,” Aiba says. And Nino gets it, the way Aiba's hand stays atop his even as he moves, memorizing the way it feels, even though he's pretty sure Aiba can already feel it to the very core of his bones.
“Ah-” Aiba pants into his ear, barely even a sound. Nino feels clumsy, but he knows it's effective and so he does his best, relying on what he knows of Aiba and how Nino himself likes to be touched.
Aiba's hand over his speeds up, taking control, tightening around Nino's smaller digits. Nino knows it's not a lack on his part - they're both in the moment and there's no room for such insignificant thoughts when everything feels so good. It all so fast as Aiba's other hand wraps around Nino, and the younger lets out a gasp unexpectedly, mewling into Aiba's ear and oh - Nino likes that too.
They rock against each other, and Nino thinks this is all that's going to happen for tonight, but that's alright. They can take things at a leisurely pace. All that matters now is that he's with Aiba, like this, how he thought they'd never be.
Aiba comes before Nino does, his free hand reaching up to brace himself as he convulses in pleasure. Nino watches intently, eyes focused as Aiba continues to work Nino even through his orgasm, and that's all it takes to come undone. With a shudder they crash into one another.
That's when the power comes back on. The overhead light floods through the room, illuminating what they'd just done, would gladly do again at some later date, and somehow it makes things all that more real, even with the start menu theme to Mario playing in the background.
They can't find the will to speak or move for some minutes, Aiba laying haphazardly along Nino's side like he doesn't want to give up the skinship just yet; even if he's hot and sweating and they both probably need to clean up.
“Hey,” Aiba whispers against his neck lightly. It tingles the sensitive skin, just above his pulse point, and Nino unconsciously turns his head to expose more of the area. “Change is good, isn't it? This change is good.” Aiba is looking for some kind of confirmation to know that he hadn't just screwed up something good.
Nino's got his doubts too, of course, but the euphoria that flows through his body is enough to quell it for the time being. He brings a hand up to pet through Aiba's fluffy hair and lets out a pleased sigh. “We'll make it good,” he answers. It's a promise.