arashi drabbles
archiving the long 'uns from the tumblez (i swear i am still writing. a little!!) somehow all jun.
rating/genre: PG
pairing(s): Matsumiya
words: 167
summary: Jun's been ditched by his prom date. He already rented the suit.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: tagfic excerpt.
Prom Night
“And you haven’t even touched the punch yet, MatsuJun,” drawled Nino as Jun forced him into a twirl, tugging on his not yet unreleased wrist. His sneakers squeaked on the polished dance floor. “And what happened to your date?”
“Shut up and dance,” Jun growled, mouth moving carefully to enunciate properly through his drunken haze.
Considering that the heavy camera slung around his neck kept bumping painfully into his chest, and his dance partner couldn’t see straight, Nino felt like he was doing more than enough dancing.
“Make me,” Nino replied.
When Jun leaned in towards Nino it wasn’t from losing balance. He gave Nino a kiss that another person would have criticised as drunkenly sloppy. For Nino, however, it was possibly maybe actually the first proper kiss he’d ever received in his geeky life, and was therefore amazing.
The gloss, Nino realised, was cherry-flavoured.
“Hang on,” Nino said as they pulled apart, fumbling for the camera. “One more time. This one’s definitely going in the yearbook.”
rating/genre: R
pairing(s): Junba
words: 235
summary: Class J, Aiba the crossdressing steward and Jun the business man with a shirt stained with wine.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: tagfic excerpt.
Stewardess
"Let’s try rub it out," the ‘stewardess’ murmurs, eyes downcast and focusing on the no longer crisp white shirt Jun was wearing. In the cramped cabin crew area between standard class and Class J, it is difficult to maintain any distance between one another; Aiba makes that very easy to understand. As he dabs at the large wine stain, Aiba keeps inching closer, clutching at more and more fabric, bringing Jun into his space more and more. It is only when Jun, intensely aware of how there is a a skirt riding up to reveal a stocking-clad leg practically wedged between his thighs, clears his throat that Aiba looks up from his task.
"Is there something wrong with my service, sir?" Aiba asks, finally looking up into Jun’s eyes. All Jun can see in his haze of want is long lashes, dark eyes curtained by blonde bangs and pink-red lips curling up into a smile.
"It’s appalling," Jun says as he slips a few fingers underneath the scarf tied around Aiba’s neck and tugs his face closer. "You can’t expect to clean this shirt while I’m still wearing it."
"My apologies, sir. We at Class J strive for only the best experience for our passengers."
The bright smile that flashes in Jun’s vision before Aiba presses his full lips to his neck sears into his memory stronger than the skirt or the wig ever could.
rating/genre: G
pairing(s): Matsumiya
words: 365
summary: Nino is going to America.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: tagfic excerpt.
5:15, I have dreams.
In the quiet grey of 5:15 in the morning the harsh blond of his hair stands out, much brighter than the row of dimming streetlights along the road. Nino tugs his sleeves down to cover his wrists and pulls his legs up against his chest. Despite the dredges of summer still remaining during the day, the early morning is chilly and makes Nino think of the warm bed and soft comforter that he has resolved to not go back to. The bulky bags made of sharp corners and delicate lenses are unfortunately not exactly a source of warmth.
As Nino continues to fold in upon himself, now shielding his face from the cold with his knees, he hears someone’s footsteps along the pavement that come to a stop by his side.
"Where are you going?" Nino looks up to see a face that would be displaying curiosity if not for the grumpy furrow of eyebrows and bleary half-shut eyes.
Nino sighs. "To America to learn how to make movies," he replies, a nod indicating to the bags by his side. The boy is suddenly a lot more awake, and takes a seat on the bench beside him.
"Funny, I’m actually an actor. Matsumoto Jun," the boy says, introducing himself with his back straight and eyes bright.
Nino gives him a doubtful look-over. “What have you been in?”
At this Jun falters, his head dipping down bashfully. “Nothing yet, but hey, I’ve got four auditions today, and I’m going to try getting an agent as well, ‘cause I heard that that’s the way to go if you want to get big, and-” He looks up to meet Nino’s stare and gives up. Leaning back on the bench he says, “It’s tough. But I’ll get there.”
"I’m sure you will," Nino says dryly, shutting the conversation down.
As they wait in silence for the 5:35 bus, Jun notes the way Nino hunches at a depressing degree, downward gaze sullen and tired. He also doesn’t seem to be taking the right route to the airport. He has a feeling that if he doesn’t say it now he won’t ever.
"How about filming something before you leave?"
rating/genre: PG
pairing(s): Sakumoto
words: 819
summary: Sho wants a paired look.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: tagfic excerpt.
Shirt
when sho sees jun wearing the hideous brown t-shirt that he gave up on half a year ago for better clothes, he can feel his heart skip a beat from both surprise and the hibernating attraction he nurtures for him waking up with a snort.
jun makes the shirt look good.
the day goes by in a flurry; all sho recalls of it afterwards as he recounts the week in his diary is too much time spent getting peeks of jun from around his newspaper or over ohno’s head.
all he ends up writing down for the day is ‘wear the shirt too?’ it’s somewhat liberating to get the thought down on paper.
as sho puts the shirt on a week later (he wanted to wear it the day after he first saw jun’s but he didn’t want to seem too eager) he doubts it’s even the same shirt as jun’s. it definitely doesn’t hang on him in the same effortless way, and he doesn’t have the array of accessories to disguise its ugliness like jun does; he recalls there is a reason he wasn’t wearing it anymore.
heaving a sigh, he layers it with a grey hoodie and hopes like hell he’s got his timing right.
sho is staring down at the shirt as it lies, eerily ironed, surrounded by books and all his other crumpled clothes on his disheveled bedsheets. it’s been three weeks of the shirt being worn three days out of five; he’s starting to lose sight of the goal. all he knows is that if he wears this shirt one more time nino is going to make a sarcastic comment about needing to use a laundry machine and then what he’s doing won’t be inconspicuous and coincidental anymore (was it ever?).
he finally retires it to the shirt drawer after drinking a glass of scotch and reflecting on what exactly would have come out of wearing the same clothes to work, apart from jun freezing up and borrowing clothes from the stylist.
something akin to satisfaction, maybe.
aiba starts wearing the seventeen-year-old belt on a regular basis. he says it suits his recent style of clothing, which is true but it never would have not suited him anyway. nino is oddly proud and takes to frequently lifting aiba’s shirt to fiddle with the worn-out leather.
sho is despairing and slightly bitter about their happy outcome; jun has not said a word about the shirt since.
jun considers the possibility of wearing the shirt to work; it would be a symbol of good will. but then he thinks about what else it could mean, like opening up and actually being able to laugh about the way they are, and he decides to put on a black scoop-neck shirt instead.
sho reaches a breaking point and bursts out one day, “i’m wearing my brown shirt tomorrow!”
“well i’m not,” jun says coldly as he adjusts his winter coat and hooks his bag over his shoulder.
sho would have protested if ohno didn’t cut between them to lunge for his jacket and trot after jun out into the corridor. sho stares forlornly over ohno’s head at jun’s figure disappearing around the corner.
when sho answers his apartment door jun is standing there, arms crossed tightly across the winter jacket he saw him leave the station in and his breath fogging up around him.
“hey,” jun says, his voice slightly muffled by his thick scarf.
“cold?” sho asks dryly as he opens his door wider and welcomes him in. jun takes off his coat and scarf, hanging them by the door as usual.
“freezing,” he replies as he slips his hands under sho’s jumper and explores his back with icy fingers. sho lets out an undignified squeak but doesn’t pull away.
jun is getting dressed; he has six interviews before eleven before they all meet up for filming. sho is busy appreciating the sight of him buttoning up his jeans from the bed but the confusion sets in when jun starts going through his shirt drawer. it only gets worse when he fishes out the brown shirt and starts pulling it over his head.
“you’re wearing the shirt.” sho is in a state of shock.
“i am,” jun says briskly, picking up the remainder of his clothes around the bedroom.
“well you said you weren’t going to.”
“technically, i’m wearing your shirt, not mine.”
sho just alternately stares at jun, as he looks through his bag and checks his phone and wallet, and the chest of drawers where the brown shirt once resided while jun is grabbing a banana (his personal stock) from sho’s kitchen and shrugging on his coat. jun adjusts his scarf in the mirror.
“see you later.” jun is gone.
sho’s elated surprised fades away only to be replaced by grim realisation.
jun is never going to let them wear the same clothes to work.
rating/genre: PG
pairing(s): Matsumiya
words: 167
summary: Jun's been ditched by his prom date. He already rented the suit.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: tagfic excerpt.
Prom Night
“And you haven’t even touched the punch yet, MatsuJun,” drawled Nino as Jun forced him into a twirl, tugging on his not yet unreleased wrist. His sneakers squeaked on the polished dance floor. “And what happened to your date?”
“Shut up and dance,” Jun growled, mouth moving carefully to enunciate properly through his drunken haze.
Considering that the heavy camera slung around his neck kept bumping painfully into his chest, and his dance partner couldn’t see straight, Nino felt like he was doing more than enough dancing.
“Make me,” Nino replied.
When Jun leaned in towards Nino it wasn’t from losing balance. He gave Nino a kiss that another person would have criticised as drunkenly sloppy. For Nino, however, it was possibly maybe actually the first proper kiss he’d ever received in his geeky life, and was therefore amazing.
The gloss, Nino realised, was cherry-flavoured.
“Hang on,” Nino said as they pulled apart, fumbling for the camera. “One more time. This one’s definitely going in the yearbook.”
rating/genre: R
pairing(s): Junba
words: 235
summary: Class J, Aiba the crossdressing steward and Jun the business man with a shirt stained with wine.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: tagfic excerpt.
Stewardess
"Let’s try rub it out," the ‘stewardess’ murmurs, eyes downcast and focusing on the no longer crisp white shirt Jun was wearing. In the cramped cabin crew area between standard class and Class J, it is difficult to maintain any distance between one another; Aiba makes that very easy to understand. As he dabs at the large wine stain, Aiba keeps inching closer, clutching at more and more fabric, bringing Jun into his space more and more. It is only when Jun, intensely aware of how there is a a skirt riding up to reveal a stocking-clad leg practically wedged between his thighs, clears his throat that Aiba looks up from his task.
"Is there something wrong with my service, sir?" Aiba asks, finally looking up into Jun’s eyes. All Jun can see in his haze of want is long lashes, dark eyes curtained by blonde bangs and pink-red lips curling up into a smile.
"It’s appalling," Jun says as he slips a few fingers underneath the scarf tied around Aiba’s neck and tugs his face closer. "You can’t expect to clean this shirt while I’m still wearing it."
"My apologies, sir. We at Class J strive for only the best experience for our passengers."
The bright smile that flashes in Jun’s vision before Aiba presses his full lips to his neck sears into his memory stronger than the skirt or the wig ever could.
rating/genre: G
pairing(s): Matsumiya
words: 365
summary: Nino is going to America.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: tagfic excerpt.
5:15, I have dreams.
In the quiet grey of 5:15 in the morning the harsh blond of his hair stands out, much brighter than the row of dimming streetlights along the road. Nino tugs his sleeves down to cover his wrists and pulls his legs up against his chest. Despite the dredges of summer still remaining during the day, the early morning is chilly and makes Nino think of the warm bed and soft comforter that he has resolved to not go back to. The bulky bags made of sharp corners and delicate lenses are unfortunately not exactly a source of warmth.
As Nino continues to fold in upon himself, now shielding his face from the cold with his knees, he hears someone’s footsteps along the pavement that come to a stop by his side.
"Where are you going?" Nino looks up to see a face that would be displaying curiosity if not for the grumpy furrow of eyebrows and bleary half-shut eyes.
Nino sighs. "To America to learn how to make movies," he replies, a nod indicating to the bags by his side. The boy is suddenly a lot more awake, and takes a seat on the bench beside him.
"Funny, I’m actually an actor. Matsumoto Jun," the boy says, introducing himself with his back straight and eyes bright.
Nino gives him a doubtful look-over. “What have you been in?”
At this Jun falters, his head dipping down bashfully. “Nothing yet, but hey, I’ve got four auditions today, and I’m going to try getting an agent as well, ‘cause I heard that that’s the way to go if you want to get big, and-” He looks up to meet Nino’s stare and gives up. Leaning back on the bench he says, “It’s tough. But I’ll get there.”
"I’m sure you will," Nino says dryly, shutting the conversation down.
As they wait in silence for the 5:35 bus, Jun notes the way Nino hunches at a depressing degree, downward gaze sullen and tired. He also doesn’t seem to be taking the right route to the airport. He has a feeling that if he doesn’t say it now he won’t ever.
"How about filming something before you leave?"
rating/genre: PG
pairing(s): Sakumoto
words: 819
summary: Sho wants a paired look.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: tagfic excerpt.
Shirt
when sho sees jun wearing the hideous brown t-shirt that he gave up on half a year ago for better clothes, he can feel his heart skip a beat from both surprise and the hibernating attraction he nurtures for him waking up with a snort.
jun makes the shirt look good.
the day goes by in a flurry; all sho recalls of it afterwards as he recounts the week in his diary is too much time spent getting peeks of jun from around his newspaper or over ohno’s head.
all he ends up writing down for the day is ‘wear the shirt too?’ it’s somewhat liberating to get the thought down on paper.
as sho puts the shirt on a week later (he wanted to wear it the day after he first saw jun’s but he didn’t want to seem too eager) he doubts it’s even the same shirt as jun’s. it definitely doesn’t hang on him in the same effortless way, and he doesn’t have the array of accessories to disguise its ugliness like jun does; he recalls there is a reason he wasn’t wearing it anymore.
heaving a sigh, he layers it with a grey hoodie and hopes like hell he’s got his timing right.
sho is staring down at the shirt as it lies, eerily ironed, surrounded by books and all his other crumpled clothes on his disheveled bedsheets. it’s been three weeks of the shirt being worn three days out of five; he’s starting to lose sight of the goal. all he knows is that if he wears this shirt one more time nino is going to make a sarcastic comment about needing to use a laundry machine and then what he’s doing won’t be inconspicuous and coincidental anymore (was it ever?).
he finally retires it to the shirt drawer after drinking a glass of scotch and reflecting on what exactly would have come out of wearing the same clothes to work, apart from jun freezing up and borrowing clothes from the stylist.
something akin to satisfaction, maybe.
aiba starts wearing the seventeen-year-old belt on a regular basis. he says it suits his recent style of clothing, which is true but it never would have not suited him anyway. nino is oddly proud and takes to frequently lifting aiba’s shirt to fiddle with the worn-out leather.
sho is despairing and slightly bitter about their happy outcome; jun has not said a word about the shirt since.
jun considers the possibility of wearing the shirt to work; it would be a symbol of good will. but then he thinks about what else it could mean, like opening up and actually being able to laugh about the way they are, and he decides to put on a black scoop-neck shirt instead.
sho reaches a breaking point and bursts out one day, “i’m wearing my brown shirt tomorrow!”
“well i’m not,” jun says coldly as he adjusts his winter coat and hooks his bag over his shoulder.
sho would have protested if ohno didn’t cut between them to lunge for his jacket and trot after jun out into the corridor. sho stares forlornly over ohno’s head at jun’s figure disappearing around the corner.
when sho answers his apartment door jun is standing there, arms crossed tightly across the winter jacket he saw him leave the station in and his breath fogging up around him.
“hey,” jun says, his voice slightly muffled by his thick scarf.
“cold?” sho asks dryly as he opens his door wider and welcomes him in. jun takes off his coat and scarf, hanging them by the door as usual.
“freezing,” he replies as he slips his hands under sho’s jumper and explores his back with icy fingers. sho lets out an undignified squeak but doesn’t pull away.
jun is getting dressed; he has six interviews before eleven before they all meet up for filming. sho is busy appreciating the sight of him buttoning up his jeans from the bed but the confusion sets in when jun starts going through his shirt drawer. it only gets worse when he fishes out the brown shirt and starts pulling it over his head.
“you’re wearing the shirt.” sho is in a state of shock.
“i am,” jun says briskly, picking up the remainder of his clothes around the bedroom.
“well you said you weren’t going to.”
“technically, i’m wearing your shirt, not mine.”
sho just alternately stares at jun, as he looks through his bag and checks his phone and wallet, and the chest of drawers where the brown shirt once resided while jun is grabbing a banana (his personal stock) from sho’s kitchen and shrugging on his coat. jun adjusts his scarf in the mirror.
“see you later.” jun is gone.
sho’s elated surprised fades away only to be replaced by grim realisation.
jun is never going to let them wear the same clothes to work.