Becky's innocent Aiba/Jun prompt that broke my brain and made me cry a lot
First: ask me how much I hate lice and kids with long hair. Go ahead, ask me.
For beckerbell, who helped me learn that Tokuyama Hidenori is the biggest nerd (yes, even bigger than Nino and Jun) EVER. Despite the 'oh, god, what am I writing' that this fic inspired in me my love for her is, nevertheless, cemented in rainbows and retarded dorkery. ♥ Prompt: Aiba/Jun or even just Jun-centric gen-ish, he's asked "If there was one thing you could change about your bandmates....?"
Couldn't Say, Can't Tell You
Ten years, Jun thinks. He thinks that somehow it's the only way to explain the feelings inside of himself at the moment. It is the third of November and they are stepping into their tenth year as Arashi. Jun laughs as often as he chokes up as they do a small concert from the roof of the JE building. They hustle inside for the interview in front of a live audience.
There is a lot of talk about their future-that's where they want their focus to be; Aiba explains to the host that they have too much in mind, too many dreams, to look at their past yet. The host nods and smiles and says that they'll each have one 'looking back' question.
Ohno's question is about being Leader. They watch the janken match that had netted him the job before the host turns to him. "Looking back, would you still have offered the job to Sakurai-kun?"
"Yes," Ohno answers immediately before turning to Sho. "Sho-kun, do you want to be leader?"
"No," Sho says. "For me, it's Ohno-kun." (A deliberate echo, Jun thinks, the words from years ago in the present. That time, this time, next time.)
The audience laughs and they keep laughing with Nino's question ('if you could tell your self from debut one thing, what would it be?') and his answer of "Grab Leader's butt-the crowd will love it." There are shrieks as Nino's hand shoots out towards Ohno and even more when Ohno bats him off, laughing so honestly that his whole face scrunches up.
Sho's question is: 'If you could do one thing differently, what would it be?' Sho folds his hands, prayerfully, and says in a small voice: "I would never, ever, tell Nino or MatsuJun that I'm afraid of heights." The audience giggles and claps for him, a few squealed 'ganbatte's mixed in.
"Aiba-san," the host turns, smiling. "Aiba-san, is there anything you would say to the members that could not have been said before now?"
Aiba scrubs a hand through his hair. "Waahh, I say a lot of-wait a minute, wait a minute, this is after Sho-chan, right? I'm answering after Sho-chan, right?" Aiba turns to Nino, taking both of his hands. "Nino, Sho-chan is afraid of heights," he says to him and the audience roars as Sho puts his face in his hands, tipping sideways to laugh against Ohno's shoulder.
Nino stands up, still holding hands with Aiba. "Manager! Manger, Sho-chan wants to do the cliff-diving experiment!"
"Okay," their manager calls from the back of the room.
It takes everybody a minute to calm down enough for Jun's question. "Matsumoto-san, if there was one thing you could change about your bandmates…?"
Jun freezes for a moment, unexpectedly torn between the awareness of the cameras and the audience and the warmly expectant looks on the faces of his bandmates.
There are days when Jun is sure he never wants to see any of them again unless he is strangling them with their own accessories. They each have their bad habits, their push-able buttons. They don't fight but they don't always get along, either. There's a million and one things that Jun could say.
He thinks, Leader could stop spacing out and Sho could stop with his parent-child lectures. He thinks, Nino gets too possessive and it leads to snaps and snarls that make everybody feel bad. Aiba has an ill-advised enthusiasm for all sorts of bad ideas that can't end well. But he doesn't say that. He can't.
Because at the same time that he thinks of those faults he also thinks that the gentle drift of Ohno's brain from regular space frees all of them to relax, to let go, to explore. And that Sho's lectures shelter them, are Sho's way of giving them his knowledge and his protection. He thinks that Nino's fierce love is boundless and while it would be nice to not have his fingers snapped off for touching Ohno at the wrong time it would also mean not having a sheepish Nino turn up at his door to spend an evening curled on the couch with him, as devoted to Jun-in his own way-as he is to Ohno or Sho or Aiba. And Aiba…
Aiba's enthusiasm is infectious, bright and golden and beckoning. Jun thinks he has never been able to resist it, even in times when he cared more about his image than he does today. He knows he's never been able to resist. Because it is Aiba, it is curiosity, intelligence, acceptance with open mind and arms. It is Aiba, expansive and welcoming and trying desperately to not feel so shy even after so long in the public eye.
Changing anything about any one of them is unthinkable. If they change, he wants it to be through their own hard work, their trial and error. He likes to look back and be able to track the way they've grown up. Video and interviews and arguments and discarded hobbies are their doorframe of measure-marks. He knows he is taking too long to answer but he can't think of what he can say. He can feel the mood growing quieter, the high tension and laughter tapering away.
"Ahh," he says at last. "It's true that everybody has their bad points but I truly believe that the only person I'm meant to change is myself." He thinks, suddenly, of what he would change about himself and doesn't say it. Instead he ducks his head almost shyly. From the corner of his eye he can see nods around the studio.
"As expected of Matsumoto," their host says, "a thoughtful answer."
Jun can feel the eyes on him. Arashi's eyes. There is so much warmth as they look at him that he can't help himself. "It wouldn't be bad if this one," he jerks his head at Aiba, "were a bit less of an idiot, though," he says.
It's this or having to fight back tears again, he thinks as the audience explodes.
---
Jun knows that he's still not acting quite right even though they've left the cameras and the building behind and are sequestered in Nino's Pajero.
I shouldn't do this, Jun thinks. The others are letting him to himself. They've learned to leave him in his moods until he wants to come out of them. He wants to come out now but he feels stuck. Nino and Ohno are in the front seats, playing Ohno's favorite 'wait in traffic' game. Which is to say that Nino points to a car at random and Ohno gets to tell him how-exactly-that asshole is holding up traffic and making Nino waste gas.
Sho is sitting behind Nino, leaning against the back of the driver's seat and helping him pick cars, laughing when Ohno gives a crude summation of the driver's parentage, sexual history, and mental deficiencies that have made him park in the middle of the street, blocking two lanes.
And Jun is thinking that he's tired of thinking so he startles a little when a warm hand covers his on the seat. Aiba is sitting between him and Sho and looking at him. When Jun makes eye contact, Aiba smiles a little at him, a nonverbal 'I am here'. He gives him a little smile in return. Aiba's smile widens briefly and he looks away and demands to know how Leader knows that about some other guy's nuts.
Jun looks out the window again and thinks about the studio, the questions, the things he could change.
"Nino," he says when they stop in front of his building. "I'll take Aiba home from here. It'll save you a trip."
Nino turns, giving him a quick smile. "Have it your way."
Aiba is looking at him in mild surprise. Aiba's apartment is not that much out of the way from Sho's. Jun gets out of the car and holds the door open for Aiba. "Come on," he tells him, sounding firm, almost impatient. "I'll make dinner," he adds, a little softer.
"Okay, MatsuJun," Aiba nods, getting out of Nino's car, standing on Jun's street. "I want spaghetti gorgonzola."
Jun feels less stuck as Nino and Sho laugh and Ohno asks what the joke is and he waves as they pull away before he leads Aiba in to his building.
---
Jun makes bucatini carbonara and Aiba calls him 'Bambi' the entire time he cooks.
"Keep it up and you're doing the dishes," he tells Aiba but he knows even as he makes the threat that they'll do them together, side-by-side at Jun's kitchen sink.
And they do, still sipping red wine as they work and talking about golf and Aiba's pet bird, and Jun's new surfboard, the cute girl that Sho currently has a crush on and how Sho is really too old to be having crushes instead of dating properly. They move from the kitchen to the couch and talk about the manga Jun has just finished, the one Aiba has just started, and the volumes they suspect that Nino has stolen from both of them.
It gets late; the level of wine in the bottle gets lower slowly, they're not so much sitting on the couch as sprawled over it, and the conversation is almost as much silence as it is words. More, maybe.
Things are comfortable, warm and close. Aiba is solid against him, lying down with him on the wide world of Jun's living room furniture. "Stay the night," Jun says. It seems rushed to him, like he spoke too suddenly into the quiet between them. He feels like he's been waiting to say those words for too long and now they're no good anymore.
But Aiba is smiling at him, warm and sleepy. "Okay. It's a long way to home, anyhow. Wine always makes me feel tired." He sits up, stretches, the hem of his shirt lifting and fluttering against his belly, the bottom of his ribs.
Jun stays where he is, laid out on the couch, feeling like he's offering something in just the set of his body. "Have a shower," he doesn't look away from Aiba as he says it. They all showered at the studio before they left. When Aiba says nothing, he repeats himself. "You can have shower. If you want."
Aiba has stopped, hands still raised over his head but lowering slowly. "I can?" his eyes are solemn and dark, questioning.
Jun thinks if this were television, if this were a concert, he'd look at me differently. He'd play like he doesn't understand what I mean. He wouldn't be so direct. The reality of the situation is almost surreal. Jun licks his lip and sits up, nodding silently.
"Are you going to shower?" Aiba asks.
"Yes." Jun doesn't look at Aiba, just shoves himself to his feet. "I'll wait in the bedroom." His heart is pounding. Ten years of running, running in his veins.
He doesn't hear Aiba follow him, his own steps the only sound.
---
In the end, he only waits in the bedroom until he hears the shower start. This is stupid he thinks. He takes two condoms and a bottle of lube out of his nightstand drawer and drops them on the bed before heading for his bathroom. He doesn't bother to knock on the door, just opens it and goes in. He tries hard to not stare at Aiba, naked under his shower spray and decorated with soap bubbles.
"MatsuJun?" Aiba glances over his shoulder, looking at him with his pretty, serious eyes.
This is so stupid, Jun thinks. "I was getting nervous," he says and drags off his shirt. "About having sex with you," he clarifies as he reaches for his belt. "Which is stupid."
"Uwaaaaah MatsuJun is so bold," Aiba says. And he grins at him. "Need help with your pants?"
"Now who's bold?" asks Jun, but he lifts his hands away from the fly of his pants in a gesture that says 'have at'. "All yours."
"Yay!" Aiba's grin gets bigger, brighter as he steps out of the spray. His fingers are wet as they touch Jun's belly, sweep under the waistband of his jeans. "I'm going to kiss you while I do it!"
"You're so dumb," Jun tells him. He has a feeling he's grinning himself. He can feel it drain away, though, as he reaches for Aiba. Aiba's hands are busy with his pants, carefully avoiding touching him any more than necessary (Aiba's a tease, Jun thinks, and this is entirely unsurprising to him) so Jun slides his fingers into Aiba's hair, tugging his face up so that he can kiss him.
Jun takes a moment to feel everything: the mist of the shower humid on his exposed skin, the tug of Aiba's fingers at his zipper, the tightening coil of arousal low in his stomach. Under his hands Aiba's damp hair feels like raw silk and it clings to his fingers as he furrows them through it, pushing the hair away from Aiba's face so that he can see him as he closes the distance. He's moaning even before his mouth finds Aiba's, already open for him.
His eyes can't stay open, falling shut with heavy pleasure. He's had dark fantasies about Aiba Masaki's mouth before and it's a lot to handle realizing that his lips really are that soft, that his tongue is that talented, his mouth that hot and eager. Jun feels his pants finally open, feels Aiba shove them down, and he moans again. "Masaki…"
"I like kissing," Aiba tells him breathlessly as Jun kicks out of his jeans. "I really like kissing a lot," he says and proves it by kissing him again.
Somehow, Jun's completely not shocked by this revelation. He's glad to hear it, though. Because Jun really likes kissing a lot, too, likes the way two mouths meet and part, slipping against each other swollen and damp. He likes the slick softness of the inside of a mouth that isn't his own and he loves all the things a tongue can say that aren't words. Aiba, he thinks, has a great vocabulary. He drags his hands through Aiba's hair, one hand cupping the back of his head and the other scoring red marks down to the birthmark on Aiba's shoulder, digging in as he gets a good grip and kisses Aiba back, swallowing the small noises that he makes.
"MatsuJun," Aiba says, tearing his mouth away.
"Shut up," Jun tells him, catching his mouth again. Aiba is hard and wet against him and Jun presses into him, biting at Aiba's lips with each rock of his hips. He sucks on Aiba's lower lip, teasing it with his tongue.
Aiba pulls away again. "MatsuJun," he says again and he's breathing hard, his voice is husky and Jun really does sort of hate the way it takes forever to make Aiba stop talking. He plants his hand firmly in the small of Aiba's back and rolls their hips together and Aiba moans and Jun thinks I have to find a wall to push him up against before he remembers that there is a handy wall somewhere just behind Aiba and he shoves him forward.
He gets a face-full of water for his trouble.
"I tried to tell you," says Aiba as Jun jerks his head back, spluttering and coughing. "We're still in the shower." Aiba is laughing right in his face but Jun isn't insulted; Aiba doesn't just laugh when things are funny but when he's happy, too, and Jun can tell the difference easily.
He hides his face in Aiba's neck on the pretense of kissing him there. "That's because you're covered in soap and I haven't washed yet." He worries a patch of skin gently between his teeth.
Aiba threads his hands through Jun's hair in a way Jun discovers that he really likes. "You can use my soap," he offers, squirming against Jun in a way that Jun thinks should probably be illegal. Jun bites him gently in thanks and Aiba asks him, "Are you going to leave a mark?"
Jun thinks that he'd like to leave a mark. Aiba's skin is fine and smooth under his mouth, tastes sweet against his tongue. "That would be a bad idea," is what he says, lightly sucking a few drops off water off of Aiba's skin before slicking his tongue over it again.
"I-oh," Aiba sighs as Jun finds a tiny mole on Aiba's shoulder to occupy his mouth. "I want you to leave one," he finishes. "You want to make a mark, right?"
Of course I do, Jun thinks. He bites Aiba's shoulder, not gently, and shifts to rub his cock alongside Aiba's, moaning against Aiba's throat. "Idiot," he whispers. "It's a bad idea."
"Sometimes you think too much," Aiba says. "You don't have to think so much when you're with me," Aiba says, soft-voiced and gentle. "You can leave a mark. We can hide it away as our secret. It's okay if only we know, right?"
Aiba touches his temple, his cheek, settles one hand over Jun's heart and we're not talking about hickeys anymore, Jun thinks. He twines his arms around Aiba's neck. "Let's get out of here," he suggests.
---
Things slow down in the bedroom; Jun believes in ridiculously high thread counts and there's no way he's letting a wet Aiba touch his sheets. He towels himself off quickly while Aiba is still scrubbing vigorously at his hair. Jun tosses his towel on the nightstand beside his bed and takes Aiba's towel from him.
Aiba watches him as Jun begins to dry him. "I like your towels," he says quietly.
Jun kisses the corner of Aiba's mouth, stroking the towel down Aiba's neck, out over the wing of his collarbone. "Thank you," he says gravely.
"You're teasing me," Aiba accuses on a faint giggle.
Jun pretends to ponder this as he runs the towel down Aiba's chest, paying close attention to Aiba's nipples and the way they get harder with every pass. "Maybe a little," he decides at last.
Aiba giggles again. He sounds happy and Jun can't help but drop to his knees. "MatsuJun?"
"God, you've got long legs," Jun tells him, which is half an answer to the question in Aiba's voice and half simple appreciation. He dries the top of Aiba's right foot, moves up to wrap the towel around his ankle, touching the thin skin over the bump of bone before he works his way briskly up Aiba's right calf, his knee, his thigh, the crest of his hip. Then he switches to the left, repeating the process. When that's done, he looks up into Aiba's deep, clear eyes; holding his gaze, he swipes the towel through the thick crush of dark hair that rides low on his abdomen.
"Jun," Aiba says, low and throaty as Jun ignore his cock. "Ah-Jun," his breath catches as Jun slips the towel between his legs, drying the soft sac there with a delicate touch.
He can feel the heat and weight of Aiba's balls in his hands and there is only so much Jun can do in the position he's in. "Masaki," he says quietly, eyes still locked. Jun thinks that he couldn't look away even if he wanted to. He kisses the head of Aiba's cock softly, slowly, the way he'd kiss Aiba's mouth. He scatters tiny, open-mouthed kisses over the length of his shaft. It's not a blowjob, not a precursor to one. It's not about getting Aiba off. Jun just wants to touch him, kiss him.
"Please," Aiba says and his hand is there, cupping Jun's face, fingers stroking Jun's cheek.
Jun wishes he had a mirror. He's done enough print work to know how they would look together but he wants to see it. He turns his head and scrapes his teeth across the inside of Aiba's wrist, nips the mound at the base of his thumb, kisses the cup of his palm. "What?"
Aiba lets go of Jun's face, the warmth of his hand lingering like an afterimage, and curls his fingers around his cock, holding it steady, offering it out. "Please," he repeats.
Jun wets his lips, presses another kiss to the head of Aiba's cock, flicking the tip of his tongue against the slit there before he stands up. "Turn around," he instructs him. "I've got to dry your back."
Aiba cuffs him on the shoulder. "Do-S banchou~!" he pouts but he turns around, presenting Jun with his back.
There are times when Jun forgets that Aiba is both taller and broader than he is himself. Sometimes he forgets that Aiba is strong and sturdily built. Aiba is someone solid. Jun wraps one arm around Aiba's waist and rests his cheek against the firm plane of his shoulder and brings the towel up. He watches it move across the glisten of water on Aiba's skin, lower and lower. He's not sure whose breath hitches first-his or Aiba's-as he slides the towel down the dip of his spine, over the swell of his buttocks. When he can reach no lower, he drops the towel and slides his hand back up until he's holding that naked curve in his hand.
There is something he has to do, something he needs to know. He slips his fingers into the shadowed cleft and feels Aiba shiver against him. Aiba's head rolls back limply until his temple is pressed to Jun's. "Jun," he says. It's not an objection.
"I want you inside me."
"I haven't…with a guy…I've never…"
Everything inside of Jun trembles and everything inside of him holds absolutely still, all at once. "It's all right. I'll walk you through it," he promises.
---
"Jun." Aiba is braced above him, poised at his entrance. "Jun."
"Come on," Jun moans, tossing his head restlessly, "I'm ready. I'm ready now."
Aiba shifts and Jun is too distracted by the feeling of Aiba between his legs, the tuck of his waist hot against the insides of his thighs, to realize that Aiba is actually pulling back a little. "Answer me something," he says.
"Now?"
Aiba shifts again and touches Jun's lips gently. "What were you going to say? At the interview. You looked away."
Jun kisses Aiba's fingertips and looks at him, really looks. It's probably a weird time for Aiba to be asking about it, even thinking about it, but Jun understands why it's now. Because now is the only time Jun will answer him and they both know it. All his walls are down and it's not even due to the incipient orgasm.
He thinks of the interview, his question. If you could change one thing about your bandmates…and he thinks of his answer again. Quit ignoring it, quit finding excuses, quit hoping it'll go away, just fall in love…
"Quit waiting," he says.
"Okay," Aiba responds.
And then Aiba is there, inside of him wholly in one smooth rush, and Jun arches his back and comes hard without even knowing he was close.
---
"Masaki?" He shoves at Aiba's shoulder. "Hey, roll over."
"Mfrph," Aiba mutters. His arms tighten around Jun. "No," he says a little more clearly. "We're not getting up. We're going to cuddle."
"No, we're not. You're going to roll over and grab the towel from the nightstand." It's not that Jun minds cuddling.
"It can wait," Aiba yawns, snuggling into him a little more.
Jun fights the urge to pet his hair. The waves in it are coming out now that it's mostly dry. "The hell it can," he says. "Quit being lazy and inconsiderate and get that towel before I pinch you in a way you won't like."
Though Aiba doesn't move for a long moment, Jun can feel him thinking that over. He pushes off of Jun with a heartfelt groan. "I thought you'd be a cuddler," he pouts as he scrabbles into a mostly-sitting position.
"I am," Jun says, sitting up himself and grabbing the towel. He deals with his condom efficiently and cleans himself off before offering it to Aiba, who still hasn't moved. "I am, he says again. "I just don't cuddle filthy." Aiba grumbles something under his breath but takes the towel from him. Jun goes to the kitchen for a glass of water, bringing one back for Aiba.
"Well," says Aiba when they're settled again and his fingers are sweet on the nape of Jun's neck, sweeping light arcs over the skin. "Well, if Jun-chan is going to stop waiting then I guess I'll have to stop being stupid, right?"
Jun's ear is pressed against Aiba's chest. He can hear the beat of his heart, the breath in his lungs. Don't, Jun thinks. I don't want anybody but you. He folds his arms over Aiba's chest, props his chin on his arms, and looks at Aiba. "Don't be dumb," he says.
Aiba smiles at him, bright and real and familiar.
Ten years, thinks Jun and he smiles back.
GOD DAMN. Writing Matsumoto Jun is hard work. Too hard for me. I'm going to go cry for a while now.
And. Every time I do prompts I always think 'oh, it'll just be drabbles, just short stuff' but a few of them always turn out to be MUCH BIGGER THAN A DRABBLE. I know this happens and yet I DO IT ANYHOW.
For beckerbell, who helped me learn that Tokuyama Hidenori is the biggest nerd (yes, even bigger than Nino and Jun) EVER. Despite the 'oh, god, what am I writing' that this fic inspired in me my love for her is, nevertheless, cemented in rainbows and retarded dorkery. ♥ Prompt: Aiba/Jun or even just Jun-centric gen-ish, he's asked "If there was one thing you could change about your bandmates....?"
Couldn't Say, Can't Tell You
Ten years, Jun thinks. He thinks that somehow it's the only way to explain the feelings inside of himself at the moment. It is the third of November and they are stepping into their tenth year as Arashi. Jun laughs as often as he chokes up as they do a small concert from the roof of the JE building. They hustle inside for the interview in front of a live audience.
There is a lot of talk about their future-that's where they want their focus to be; Aiba explains to the host that they have too much in mind, too many dreams, to look at their past yet. The host nods and smiles and says that they'll each have one 'looking back' question.
Ohno's question is about being Leader. They watch the janken match that had netted him the job before the host turns to him. "Looking back, would you still have offered the job to Sakurai-kun?"
"Yes," Ohno answers immediately before turning to Sho. "Sho-kun, do you want to be leader?"
"No," Sho says. "For me, it's Ohno-kun." (A deliberate echo, Jun thinks, the words from years ago in the present. That time, this time, next time.)
The audience laughs and they keep laughing with Nino's question ('if you could tell your self from debut one thing, what would it be?') and his answer of "Grab Leader's butt-the crowd will love it." There are shrieks as Nino's hand shoots out towards Ohno and even more when Ohno bats him off, laughing so honestly that his whole face scrunches up.
Sho's question is: 'If you could do one thing differently, what would it be?' Sho folds his hands, prayerfully, and says in a small voice: "I would never, ever, tell Nino or MatsuJun that I'm afraid of heights." The audience giggles and claps for him, a few squealed 'ganbatte's mixed in.
"Aiba-san," the host turns, smiling. "Aiba-san, is there anything you would say to the members that could not have been said before now?"
Aiba scrubs a hand through his hair. "Waahh, I say a lot of-wait a minute, wait a minute, this is after Sho-chan, right? I'm answering after Sho-chan, right?" Aiba turns to Nino, taking both of his hands. "Nino, Sho-chan is afraid of heights," he says to him and the audience roars as Sho puts his face in his hands, tipping sideways to laugh against Ohno's shoulder.
Nino stands up, still holding hands with Aiba. "Manager! Manger, Sho-chan wants to do the cliff-diving experiment!"
"Okay," their manager calls from the back of the room.
It takes everybody a minute to calm down enough for Jun's question. "Matsumoto-san, if there was one thing you could change about your bandmates…?"
Jun freezes for a moment, unexpectedly torn between the awareness of the cameras and the audience and the warmly expectant looks on the faces of his bandmates.
There are days when Jun is sure he never wants to see any of them again unless he is strangling them with their own accessories. They each have their bad habits, their push-able buttons. They don't fight but they don't always get along, either. There's a million and one things that Jun could say.
He thinks, Leader could stop spacing out and Sho could stop with his parent-child lectures. He thinks, Nino gets too possessive and it leads to snaps and snarls that make everybody feel bad. Aiba has an ill-advised enthusiasm for all sorts of bad ideas that can't end well. But he doesn't say that. He can't.
Because at the same time that he thinks of those faults he also thinks that the gentle drift of Ohno's brain from regular space frees all of them to relax, to let go, to explore. And that Sho's lectures shelter them, are Sho's way of giving them his knowledge and his protection. He thinks that Nino's fierce love is boundless and while it would be nice to not have his fingers snapped off for touching Ohno at the wrong time it would also mean not having a sheepish Nino turn up at his door to spend an evening curled on the couch with him, as devoted to Jun-in his own way-as he is to Ohno or Sho or Aiba. And Aiba…
Aiba's enthusiasm is infectious, bright and golden and beckoning. Jun thinks he has never been able to resist it, even in times when he cared more about his image than he does today. He knows he's never been able to resist. Because it is Aiba, it is curiosity, intelligence, acceptance with open mind and arms. It is Aiba, expansive and welcoming and trying desperately to not feel so shy even after so long in the public eye.
Changing anything about any one of them is unthinkable. If they change, he wants it to be through their own hard work, their trial and error. He likes to look back and be able to track the way they've grown up. Video and interviews and arguments and discarded hobbies are their doorframe of measure-marks. He knows he is taking too long to answer but he can't think of what he can say. He can feel the mood growing quieter, the high tension and laughter tapering away.
"Ahh," he says at last. "It's true that everybody has their bad points but I truly believe that the only person I'm meant to change is myself." He thinks, suddenly, of what he would change about himself and doesn't say it. Instead he ducks his head almost shyly. From the corner of his eye he can see nods around the studio.
"As expected of Matsumoto," their host says, "a thoughtful answer."
Jun can feel the eyes on him. Arashi's eyes. There is so much warmth as they look at him that he can't help himself. "It wouldn't be bad if this one," he jerks his head at Aiba, "were a bit less of an idiot, though," he says.
It's this or having to fight back tears again, he thinks as the audience explodes.
---
Jun knows that he's still not acting quite right even though they've left the cameras and the building behind and are sequestered in Nino's Pajero.
I shouldn't do this, Jun thinks. The others are letting him to himself. They've learned to leave him in his moods until he wants to come out of them. He wants to come out now but he feels stuck. Nino and Ohno are in the front seats, playing Ohno's favorite 'wait in traffic' game. Which is to say that Nino points to a car at random and Ohno gets to tell him how-exactly-that asshole is holding up traffic and making Nino waste gas.
Sho is sitting behind Nino, leaning against the back of the driver's seat and helping him pick cars, laughing when Ohno gives a crude summation of the driver's parentage, sexual history, and mental deficiencies that have made him park in the middle of the street, blocking two lanes.
And Jun is thinking that he's tired of thinking so he startles a little when a warm hand covers his on the seat. Aiba is sitting between him and Sho and looking at him. When Jun makes eye contact, Aiba smiles a little at him, a nonverbal 'I am here'. He gives him a little smile in return. Aiba's smile widens briefly and he looks away and demands to know how Leader knows that about some other guy's nuts.
Jun looks out the window again and thinks about the studio, the questions, the things he could change.
"Nino," he says when they stop in front of his building. "I'll take Aiba home from here. It'll save you a trip."
Nino turns, giving him a quick smile. "Have it your way."
Aiba is looking at him in mild surprise. Aiba's apartment is not that much out of the way from Sho's. Jun gets out of the car and holds the door open for Aiba. "Come on," he tells him, sounding firm, almost impatient. "I'll make dinner," he adds, a little softer.
"Okay, MatsuJun," Aiba nods, getting out of Nino's car, standing on Jun's street. "I want spaghetti gorgonzola."
Jun feels less stuck as Nino and Sho laugh and Ohno asks what the joke is and he waves as they pull away before he leads Aiba in to his building.
---
Jun makes bucatini carbonara and Aiba calls him 'Bambi' the entire time he cooks.
"Keep it up and you're doing the dishes," he tells Aiba but he knows even as he makes the threat that they'll do them together, side-by-side at Jun's kitchen sink.
And they do, still sipping red wine as they work and talking about golf and Aiba's pet bird, and Jun's new surfboard, the cute girl that Sho currently has a crush on and how Sho is really too old to be having crushes instead of dating properly. They move from the kitchen to the couch and talk about the manga Jun has just finished, the one Aiba has just started, and the volumes they suspect that Nino has stolen from both of them.
It gets late; the level of wine in the bottle gets lower slowly, they're not so much sitting on the couch as sprawled over it, and the conversation is almost as much silence as it is words. More, maybe.
Things are comfortable, warm and close. Aiba is solid against him, lying down with him on the wide world of Jun's living room furniture. "Stay the night," Jun says. It seems rushed to him, like he spoke too suddenly into the quiet between them. He feels like he's been waiting to say those words for too long and now they're no good anymore.
But Aiba is smiling at him, warm and sleepy. "Okay. It's a long way to home, anyhow. Wine always makes me feel tired." He sits up, stretches, the hem of his shirt lifting and fluttering against his belly, the bottom of his ribs.
Jun stays where he is, laid out on the couch, feeling like he's offering something in just the set of his body. "Have a shower," he doesn't look away from Aiba as he says it. They all showered at the studio before they left. When Aiba says nothing, he repeats himself. "You can have shower. If you want."
Aiba has stopped, hands still raised over his head but lowering slowly. "I can?" his eyes are solemn and dark, questioning.
Jun thinks if this were television, if this were a concert, he'd look at me differently. He'd play like he doesn't understand what I mean. He wouldn't be so direct. The reality of the situation is almost surreal. Jun licks his lip and sits up, nodding silently.
"Are you going to shower?" Aiba asks.
"Yes." Jun doesn't look at Aiba, just shoves himself to his feet. "I'll wait in the bedroom." His heart is pounding. Ten years of running, running in his veins.
He doesn't hear Aiba follow him, his own steps the only sound.
---
In the end, he only waits in the bedroom until he hears the shower start. This is stupid he thinks. He takes two condoms and a bottle of lube out of his nightstand drawer and drops them on the bed before heading for his bathroom. He doesn't bother to knock on the door, just opens it and goes in. He tries hard to not stare at Aiba, naked under his shower spray and decorated with soap bubbles.
"MatsuJun?" Aiba glances over his shoulder, looking at him with his pretty, serious eyes.
This is so stupid, Jun thinks. "I was getting nervous," he says and drags off his shirt. "About having sex with you," he clarifies as he reaches for his belt. "Which is stupid."
"Uwaaaaah MatsuJun is so bold," Aiba says. And he grins at him. "Need help with your pants?"
"Now who's bold?" asks Jun, but he lifts his hands away from the fly of his pants in a gesture that says 'have at'. "All yours."
"Yay!" Aiba's grin gets bigger, brighter as he steps out of the spray. His fingers are wet as they touch Jun's belly, sweep under the waistband of his jeans. "I'm going to kiss you while I do it!"
"You're so dumb," Jun tells him. He has a feeling he's grinning himself. He can feel it drain away, though, as he reaches for Aiba. Aiba's hands are busy with his pants, carefully avoiding touching him any more than necessary (Aiba's a tease, Jun thinks, and this is entirely unsurprising to him) so Jun slides his fingers into Aiba's hair, tugging his face up so that he can kiss him.
Jun takes a moment to feel everything: the mist of the shower humid on his exposed skin, the tug of Aiba's fingers at his zipper, the tightening coil of arousal low in his stomach. Under his hands Aiba's damp hair feels like raw silk and it clings to his fingers as he furrows them through it, pushing the hair away from Aiba's face so that he can see him as he closes the distance. He's moaning even before his mouth finds Aiba's, already open for him.
His eyes can't stay open, falling shut with heavy pleasure. He's had dark fantasies about Aiba Masaki's mouth before and it's a lot to handle realizing that his lips really are that soft, that his tongue is that talented, his mouth that hot and eager. Jun feels his pants finally open, feels Aiba shove them down, and he moans again. "Masaki…"
"I like kissing," Aiba tells him breathlessly as Jun kicks out of his jeans. "I really like kissing a lot," he says and proves it by kissing him again.
Somehow, Jun's completely not shocked by this revelation. He's glad to hear it, though. Because Jun really likes kissing a lot, too, likes the way two mouths meet and part, slipping against each other swollen and damp. He likes the slick softness of the inside of a mouth that isn't his own and he loves all the things a tongue can say that aren't words. Aiba, he thinks, has a great vocabulary. He drags his hands through Aiba's hair, one hand cupping the back of his head and the other scoring red marks down to the birthmark on Aiba's shoulder, digging in as he gets a good grip and kisses Aiba back, swallowing the small noises that he makes.
"MatsuJun," Aiba says, tearing his mouth away.
"Shut up," Jun tells him, catching his mouth again. Aiba is hard and wet against him and Jun presses into him, biting at Aiba's lips with each rock of his hips. He sucks on Aiba's lower lip, teasing it with his tongue.
Aiba pulls away again. "MatsuJun," he says again and he's breathing hard, his voice is husky and Jun really does sort of hate the way it takes forever to make Aiba stop talking. He plants his hand firmly in the small of Aiba's back and rolls their hips together and Aiba moans and Jun thinks I have to find a wall to push him up against before he remembers that there is a handy wall somewhere just behind Aiba and he shoves him forward.
He gets a face-full of water for his trouble.
"I tried to tell you," says Aiba as Jun jerks his head back, spluttering and coughing. "We're still in the shower." Aiba is laughing right in his face but Jun isn't insulted; Aiba doesn't just laugh when things are funny but when he's happy, too, and Jun can tell the difference easily.
He hides his face in Aiba's neck on the pretense of kissing him there. "That's because you're covered in soap and I haven't washed yet." He worries a patch of skin gently between his teeth.
Aiba threads his hands through Jun's hair in a way Jun discovers that he really likes. "You can use my soap," he offers, squirming against Jun in a way that Jun thinks should probably be illegal. Jun bites him gently in thanks and Aiba asks him, "Are you going to leave a mark?"
Jun thinks that he'd like to leave a mark. Aiba's skin is fine and smooth under his mouth, tastes sweet against his tongue. "That would be a bad idea," is what he says, lightly sucking a few drops off water off of Aiba's skin before slicking his tongue over it again.
"I-oh," Aiba sighs as Jun finds a tiny mole on Aiba's shoulder to occupy his mouth. "I want you to leave one," he finishes. "You want to make a mark, right?"
Of course I do, Jun thinks. He bites Aiba's shoulder, not gently, and shifts to rub his cock alongside Aiba's, moaning against Aiba's throat. "Idiot," he whispers. "It's a bad idea."
"Sometimes you think too much," Aiba says. "You don't have to think so much when you're with me," Aiba says, soft-voiced and gentle. "You can leave a mark. We can hide it away as our secret. It's okay if only we know, right?"
Aiba touches his temple, his cheek, settles one hand over Jun's heart and we're not talking about hickeys anymore, Jun thinks. He twines his arms around Aiba's neck. "Let's get out of here," he suggests.
---
Things slow down in the bedroom; Jun believes in ridiculously high thread counts and there's no way he's letting a wet Aiba touch his sheets. He towels himself off quickly while Aiba is still scrubbing vigorously at his hair. Jun tosses his towel on the nightstand beside his bed and takes Aiba's towel from him.
Aiba watches him as Jun begins to dry him. "I like your towels," he says quietly.
Jun kisses the corner of Aiba's mouth, stroking the towel down Aiba's neck, out over the wing of his collarbone. "Thank you," he says gravely.
"You're teasing me," Aiba accuses on a faint giggle.
Jun pretends to ponder this as he runs the towel down Aiba's chest, paying close attention to Aiba's nipples and the way they get harder with every pass. "Maybe a little," he decides at last.
Aiba giggles again. He sounds happy and Jun can't help but drop to his knees. "MatsuJun?"
"God, you've got long legs," Jun tells him, which is half an answer to the question in Aiba's voice and half simple appreciation. He dries the top of Aiba's right foot, moves up to wrap the towel around his ankle, touching the thin skin over the bump of bone before he works his way briskly up Aiba's right calf, his knee, his thigh, the crest of his hip. Then he switches to the left, repeating the process. When that's done, he looks up into Aiba's deep, clear eyes; holding his gaze, he swipes the towel through the thick crush of dark hair that rides low on his abdomen.
"Jun," Aiba says, low and throaty as Jun ignore his cock. "Ah-Jun," his breath catches as Jun slips the towel between his legs, drying the soft sac there with a delicate touch.
He can feel the heat and weight of Aiba's balls in his hands and there is only so much Jun can do in the position he's in. "Masaki," he says quietly, eyes still locked. Jun thinks that he couldn't look away even if he wanted to. He kisses the head of Aiba's cock softly, slowly, the way he'd kiss Aiba's mouth. He scatters tiny, open-mouthed kisses over the length of his shaft. It's not a blowjob, not a precursor to one. It's not about getting Aiba off. Jun just wants to touch him, kiss him.
"Please," Aiba says and his hand is there, cupping Jun's face, fingers stroking Jun's cheek.
Jun wishes he had a mirror. He's done enough print work to know how they would look together but he wants to see it. He turns his head and scrapes his teeth across the inside of Aiba's wrist, nips the mound at the base of his thumb, kisses the cup of his palm. "What?"
Aiba lets go of Jun's face, the warmth of his hand lingering like an afterimage, and curls his fingers around his cock, holding it steady, offering it out. "Please," he repeats.
Jun wets his lips, presses another kiss to the head of Aiba's cock, flicking the tip of his tongue against the slit there before he stands up. "Turn around," he instructs him. "I've got to dry your back."
Aiba cuffs him on the shoulder. "Do-S banchou~!" he pouts but he turns around, presenting Jun with his back.
There are times when Jun forgets that Aiba is both taller and broader than he is himself. Sometimes he forgets that Aiba is strong and sturdily built. Aiba is someone solid. Jun wraps one arm around Aiba's waist and rests his cheek against the firm plane of his shoulder and brings the towel up. He watches it move across the glisten of water on Aiba's skin, lower and lower. He's not sure whose breath hitches first-his or Aiba's-as he slides the towel down the dip of his spine, over the swell of his buttocks. When he can reach no lower, he drops the towel and slides his hand back up until he's holding that naked curve in his hand.
There is something he has to do, something he needs to know. He slips his fingers into the shadowed cleft and feels Aiba shiver against him. Aiba's head rolls back limply until his temple is pressed to Jun's. "Jun," he says. It's not an objection.
"I want you inside me."
"I haven't…with a guy…I've never…"
Everything inside of Jun trembles and everything inside of him holds absolutely still, all at once. "It's all right. I'll walk you through it," he promises.
---
"Jun." Aiba is braced above him, poised at his entrance. "Jun."
"Come on," Jun moans, tossing his head restlessly, "I'm ready. I'm ready now."
Aiba shifts and Jun is too distracted by the feeling of Aiba between his legs, the tuck of his waist hot against the insides of his thighs, to realize that Aiba is actually pulling back a little. "Answer me something," he says.
"Now?"
Aiba shifts again and touches Jun's lips gently. "What were you going to say? At the interview. You looked away."
Jun kisses Aiba's fingertips and looks at him, really looks. It's probably a weird time for Aiba to be asking about it, even thinking about it, but Jun understands why it's now. Because now is the only time Jun will answer him and they both know it. All his walls are down and it's not even due to the incipient orgasm.
He thinks of the interview, his question. If you could change one thing about your bandmates…and he thinks of his answer again. Quit ignoring it, quit finding excuses, quit hoping it'll go away, just fall in love…
"Quit waiting," he says.
"Okay," Aiba responds.
And then Aiba is there, inside of him wholly in one smooth rush, and Jun arches his back and comes hard without even knowing he was close.
---
"Masaki?" He shoves at Aiba's shoulder. "Hey, roll over."
"Mfrph," Aiba mutters. His arms tighten around Jun. "No," he says a little more clearly. "We're not getting up. We're going to cuddle."
"No, we're not. You're going to roll over and grab the towel from the nightstand." It's not that Jun minds cuddling.
"It can wait," Aiba yawns, snuggling into him a little more.
Jun fights the urge to pet his hair. The waves in it are coming out now that it's mostly dry. "The hell it can," he says. "Quit being lazy and inconsiderate and get that towel before I pinch you in a way you won't like."
Though Aiba doesn't move for a long moment, Jun can feel him thinking that over. He pushes off of Jun with a heartfelt groan. "I thought you'd be a cuddler," he pouts as he scrabbles into a mostly-sitting position.
"I am," Jun says, sitting up himself and grabbing the towel. He deals with his condom efficiently and cleans himself off before offering it to Aiba, who still hasn't moved. "I am, he says again. "I just don't cuddle filthy." Aiba grumbles something under his breath but takes the towel from him. Jun goes to the kitchen for a glass of water, bringing one back for Aiba.
"Well," says Aiba when they're settled again and his fingers are sweet on the nape of Jun's neck, sweeping light arcs over the skin. "Well, if Jun-chan is going to stop waiting then I guess I'll have to stop being stupid, right?"
Jun's ear is pressed against Aiba's chest. He can hear the beat of his heart, the breath in his lungs. Don't, Jun thinks. I don't want anybody but you. He folds his arms over Aiba's chest, props his chin on his arms, and looks at Aiba. "Don't be dumb," he says.
Aiba smiles at him, bright and real and familiar.
Ten years, thinks Jun and he smiles back.
GOD DAMN. Writing Matsumoto Jun is hard work. Too hard for me. I'm going to go cry for a while now.
And. Every time I do prompts I always think 'oh, it'll just be drabbles, just short stuff' but a few of them always turn out to be MUCH BIGGER THAN A DRABBLE. I know this happens and yet I DO IT ANYHOW.