(no subject)
Title: You're a real mean mama, but you got a lot of time for me
Author: samansucks
Pairing: (unrequited)Aiba/Jun
Rated: PG for mild swearing, I guess
Summary: Jun's in love, and it's really pissing him off.
Knowing when you’re fucked is a commendable quality in a person, Jun thinks, even when it’s probably a permanent kind of fucked. Especially when it’s a permanent kind of fucked.
It’s a quality he admires in himself.
He’s ignoring Masaki’s LINE messages right now. Aiba’s been sending progressively more overwrought bunny stickers (the most recent is running with a stubby little arm thrown over its eyes, tears trailing behind it) and Jun can’t help but smile as they pop up on his screen, but that doesn’t mean he has to answer a damn thing.
It’s been a rough week, and he feels over-saturated. Between their coinciding drama releases and the media frenzy that goes along with them, he’s all emotionally tired out and he just wants to lounge around on his sofa like a gigantic cat with a movie and a bowl of pineapple slices and pretend that feelings are a thing that other people have.
His phone buzzes. The bunny is sitting on a little red stool with a grey pallor to its little white face--the face of a bunny who has clearly given up on life. Ugh.
*
He picks up his phone without thinking. To be fair, it's closer to 3 AM than 2 and it's hard to think when shaken from sleep by a burst of frenzied buzzing.
"JUN!"
"…you'd better be on fire."
"Nope! You've been ignoring me and I thought I'd launch a surprise attack when your defenses are at their weakest!" Jun can't see him make a cat claw motion, but he knows it's happening as well as he knows his own name or that Ohno's ideal woman is Shinozaki Ai. "Like a lion."
Jun hangs up on him.
That doesn't keep him from calling back one more time, but luckily Aiba isn't inconsiderate enough to take too much time away from their precious few sleeping hours and leaves it at that. He kind of feels like an asshole, but in a good way.
*
"My phone doesn't control my life." Jun declares to the demure screen of his purple iPhone. For once in its short life, it has nothing to say. Typical.
"I have a life outside of work," he continues, less a declaration and more a question. It carries on saying nothing, but Jun can imagine that, were it not inanimate, it would point out that he'd immediately bought the purple iPhone when it had become available. Purple, like his color in the group that is his job that he totally has a life outside of.
He sighs. Work really is his whole life, and he's happy about that roughly 95% of the time. Unfortunately, that 5% does like to make itself known on occasion.
He toys with the idea of calling Aiba up, of apologizing for his bratty behavior and maybe even explaining.
Maybe things would go better than he expects. He knows few human beings as good to their very core as Masaki, so it's not revulsion or anger he fears.
Maybe things would go exactly as he thinks they would.
He rolls over onto his other side across the expanse of his full-size bed and resolutely ignores his phone.
He drifts off without plugging it in and the battery is completely exhausted when he wakes up. Luckily he's only got an afternoon shoot that day, so no one has to know about his slip-up.
*
He doesn't bother looking up from his magazine until Nino's boots, a clunky pair of black Docs battered within an inch of their life, land in his lap without a word of warning. Nino, as it turns out, is still attached to them. Jun decides the best strategy under these circumstances is to ignore him completely; a pointed glare would only encourage Nino. He turns the page. A delicious-looking recipe for grilled swordfish. He folds the corner down for future reference.
"Ow, fuck!"
Nino's sitting up now, bent awkwardly at his middle in order to pinch Jun at the juncture of shoulder and neck while simultaneously keeping his filthy boots in Jun's lap.
"Vulcan nerve pinch. You deserved it and you know exactly why." Jun rolls his eyes, but then Nino places his 3DS on the floor beside the couch and regards him seriously. This…really can't be good.
"No, I really don't know why. Do the staff know you haven't thrown out those boots yet?" He dumps Nino's legs out of his lap unceremoniously and crosses his legs to discourage them from returning.
"That would be a lot more convincing if you weren't a pathetic blackout of a drunk who hung all over me and went on and on about how Aiba-chan smells like sunshine and happiness and then didn't remember a fucking thing the next morning. Three years ago, Jun." His lips were in a tight approximation of a smile that made Jun feel like an absolute shit. "Just because you can't deal with your feelings doesn't give you the right to be a jerk."
He grabs his 3DS from the floor and, rather than making a dramatic exit, opts to move to a chair on the opposite side of the room. He doesn't speak again, but he casts Jun the occasional pointed disapproving frown.
Jun hangs his head over the back of the couch and sighs. If he'd ever seen anyone snubbing Aiba in the way he's been doing recently his reaction would have been exactly like Nino's, if not worse. He really has taken this too far.
*
They're in another dressing room; they've become a more commonplace surrounding for Jun than his own home for the last 15 years, so he usually has little trouble relaxing. Today, though, his stomach is staging a revolt. The shoot is a magic-themed two-shot with Aiba in anticipation of the near-simultaneous releases of their respective magic-themed dramas. Jun gets some satisfaction out of the fact that while he's doing a shoot with a theme that Nino would love, Nino is stuck working on a dance step he just can't seem to get.
It's extremely early, and Aiba is asleep at one of the makeup tables nearest the corner. Jun stands directly behind him and taps out a message on LINE.
Slacker, it reads. He follows it quickly with a disappointed rabbit sticker.
Aiba jerks awake in rather dramatic fashion, head and arms coming up off the table so quickly Jun wonders if he'll be feeling some of the symptoms of whiplash later. He smiles into the mirror as Aiba returns to awareness and meets his eyes in its reflection.
"Jun," he admonishes with a transparent mixture of pleasure and faux annoyance. "I'd planned on at least ten more minutes."
"Since you've looked on the edge of unconsciousness every time the camera is off you for the last week, I thought I'd do us all a favor." He thrust the paper cup of coffee he'd been using as a hand warmer on the walk at Aiba. "Caffeinate yourself like a reasonable human being."
"Thanks, Jun-chan." He accepts the cup gratefully, for all the world looking as though he hasn't spent the better part of the last week being ignored by the person offering it. He breathes in the scent of warm coffee with eyes closed, expression blissful, and Jun is momentarily overwhelmed by the beauty of this person's ability and willingness to forgive.
"I knew you'd never think to do anything practical for yourself, so it seemed appropriate."
He smiles, mostly to himself, as Aiba makes a half-hearted protest to the slight to his character into his coffee. It feels a bit like everything he's feeling is written on his face, but this is a convenient hole in Aiba's occasional intuitiveness that he's used to conceal himself for almost as long as he can remember.
He'll probably never say anything. It's probably not meant to be; maybe that's okay.
He's lucky to have as much as he does.
Author: samansucks
Pairing: (unrequited)Aiba/Jun
Rated: PG for mild swearing, I guess
Summary: Jun's in love, and it's really pissing him off.
Knowing when you’re fucked is a commendable quality in a person, Jun thinks, even when it’s probably a permanent kind of fucked. Especially when it’s a permanent kind of fucked.
It’s a quality he admires in himself.
He’s ignoring Masaki’s LINE messages right now. Aiba’s been sending progressively more overwrought bunny stickers (the most recent is running with a stubby little arm thrown over its eyes, tears trailing behind it) and Jun can’t help but smile as they pop up on his screen, but that doesn’t mean he has to answer a damn thing.
It’s been a rough week, and he feels over-saturated. Between their coinciding drama releases and the media frenzy that goes along with them, he’s all emotionally tired out and he just wants to lounge around on his sofa like a gigantic cat with a movie and a bowl of pineapple slices and pretend that feelings are a thing that other people have.
His phone buzzes. The bunny is sitting on a little red stool with a grey pallor to its little white face--the face of a bunny who has clearly given up on life. Ugh.
*
He picks up his phone without thinking. To be fair, it's closer to 3 AM than 2 and it's hard to think when shaken from sleep by a burst of frenzied buzzing.
"JUN!"
"…you'd better be on fire."
"Nope! You've been ignoring me and I thought I'd launch a surprise attack when your defenses are at their weakest!" Jun can't see him make a cat claw motion, but he knows it's happening as well as he knows his own name or that Ohno's ideal woman is Shinozaki Ai. "Like a lion."
Jun hangs up on him.
That doesn't keep him from calling back one more time, but luckily Aiba isn't inconsiderate enough to take too much time away from their precious few sleeping hours and leaves it at that. He kind of feels like an asshole, but in a good way.
*
"My phone doesn't control my life." Jun declares to the demure screen of his purple iPhone. For once in its short life, it has nothing to say. Typical.
"I have a life outside of work," he continues, less a declaration and more a question. It carries on saying nothing, but Jun can imagine that, were it not inanimate, it would point out that he'd immediately bought the purple iPhone when it had become available. Purple, like his color in the group that is his job that he totally has a life outside of.
He sighs. Work really is his whole life, and he's happy about that roughly 95% of the time. Unfortunately, that 5% does like to make itself known on occasion.
He toys with the idea of calling Aiba up, of apologizing for his bratty behavior and maybe even explaining.
Maybe things would go better than he expects. He knows few human beings as good to their very core as Masaki, so it's not revulsion or anger he fears.
Maybe things would go exactly as he thinks they would.
He rolls over onto his other side across the expanse of his full-size bed and resolutely ignores his phone.
He drifts off without plugging it in and the battery is completely exhausted when he wakes up. Luckily he's only got an afternoon shoot that day, so no one has to know about his slip-up.
*
He doesn't bother looking up from his magazine until Nino's boots, a clunky pair of black Docs battered within an inch of their life, land in his lap without a word of warning. Nino, as it turns out, is still attached to them. Jun decides the best strategy under these circumstances is to ignore him completely; a pointed glare would only encourage Nino. He turns the page. A delicious-looking recipe for grilled swordfish. He folds the corner down for future reference.
"Ow, fuck!"
Nino's sitting up now, bent awkwardly at his middle in order to pinch Jun at the juncture of shoulder and neck while simultaneously keeping his filthy boots in Jun's lap.
"Vulcan nerve pinch. You deserved it and you know exactly why." Jun rolls his eyes, but then Nino places his 3DS on the floor beside the couch and regards him seriously. This…really can't be good.
"No, I really don't know why. Do the staff know you haven't thrown out those boots yet?" He dumps Nino's legs out of his lap unceremoniously and crosses his legs to discourage them from returning.
"That would be a lot more convincing if you weren't a pathetic blackout of a drunk who hung all over me and went on and on about how Aiba-chan smells like sunshine and happiness and then didn't remember a fucking thing the next morning. Three years ago, Jun." His lips were in a tight approximation of a smile that made Jun feel like an absolute shit. "Just because you can't deal with your feelings doesn't give you the right to be a jerk."
He grabs his 3DS from the floor and, rather than making a dramatic exit, opts to move to a chair on the opposite side of the room. He doesn't speak again, but he casts Jun the occasional pointed disapproving frown.
Jun hangs his head over the back of the couch and sighs. If he'd ever seen anyone snubbing Aiba in the way he's been doing recently his reaction would have been exactly like Nino's, if not worse. He really has taken this too far.
*
They're in another dressing room; they've become a more commonplace surrounding for Jun than his own home for the last 15 years, so he usually has little trouble relaxing. Today, though, his stomach is staging a revolt. The shoot is a magic-themed two-shot with Aiba in anticipation of the near-simultaneous releases of their respective magic-themed dramas. Jun gets some satisfaction out of the fact that while he's doing a shoot with a theme that Nino would love, Nino is stuck working on a dance step he just can't seem to get.
It's extremely early, and Aiba is asleep at one of the makeup tables nearest the corner. Jun stands directly behind him and taps out a message on LINE.
Slacker, it reads. He follows it quickly with a disappointed rabbit sticker.
Aiba jerks awake in rather dramatic fashion, head and arms coming up off the table so quickly Jun wonders if he'll be feeling some of the symptoms of whiplash later. He smiles into the mirror as Aiba returns to awareness and meets his eyes in its reflection.
"Jun," he admonishes with a transparent mixture of pleasure and faux annoyance. "I'd planned on at least ten more minutes."
"Since you've looked on the edge of unconsciousness every time the camera is off you for the last week, I thought I'd do us all a favor." He thrust the paper cup of coffee he'd been using as a hand warmer on the walk at Aiba. "Caffeinate yourself like a reasonable human being."
"Thanks, Jun-chan." He accepts the cup gratefully, for all the world looking as though he hasn't spent the better part of the last week being ignored by the person offering it. He breathes in the scent of warm coffee with eyes closed, expression blissful, and Jun is momentarily overwhelmed by the beauty of this person's ability and willingness to forgive.
"I knew you'd never think to do anything practical for yourself, so it seemed appropriate."
He smiles, mostly to himself, as Aiba makes a half-hearted protest to the slight to his character into his coffee. It feels a bit like everything he's feeling is written on his face, but this is a convenient hole in Aiba's occasional intuitiveness that he's used to conceal himself for almost as long as he can remember.
He'll probably never say anything. It's probably not meant to be; maybe that's okay.
He's lucky to have as much as he does.