Kicks to the ass welcomed
I can't write lately. It took me forty-five mintues to write this for rainbowfilling. And it shouldn't have. It really, really shouldn't have. I'm not even that happy with it. I just wanted to do SOMETHING. Argh.
Title: Above us, only sky
Rated: G
Warning: No?
Pairing: Ohno/Jun
Prompt: Speechless
Summary: Into the wordless, soundless blue beside you.
Above us, only sky
Things build up inside Jun and bubble like acid, race through him like a poison. Too much stress, not enough sleep, more work than he can handle, a friend's heartbreak that he can't heal. Nino never lets any of them try, ever, but it still hurts Jun more than he'd like. They're older now, things are supposed to be different now.
He's so angry and fragile and cold that he feels like a teenager again. He's thirty-years old and about to have a tantrum.
So he does the only thing he knows to do that will fix this even the slightest bit. He goes to Ohno. Ohno is sitting in a flower bed full of fake flowers, waiting for the camera to come back around to him and Jun knows he is messing up the shot he just can't care. It's mess up the shot or pitch a fit. He drops down into the bed among the plastic gerbera daisies and the silk baby's-breath and polyester ferns and sprawls there helplessly gangling in a way he shouldn't be anymore. Not really.
He doesn't say anything, doesn't lean, doesn't move, can barely breathe.
Ohno leans over and puts an arm around his shoulders. Ohno smells like salt air and fish scales and pine-scented shaving cream. Ohno smells like pancake makeup over the Ohno-ness, and hairspray. His arm is warm and solid, steady and present. It doesn't press on him, doesn't pull him in. It just is.
Jun grits his teeth as the director starts to speak. He can hear Ohno move-a hand, an arm, his head?-and the director changes topics, changes directions, the whole crew moves off a few feet to the left where Nino is playing red-hands with Sho and Aiba in a bizarre three-way free-for-all. Jun manages to unlock his jaw so that the muscle isn't jumping painfully.
Ohno's hand, the one on the arm around Jun's shoulder, curves and holds, getting a grip on him before tugging him until he's on his back in the make-believe flowers and pretend earth, curled into the imitation nature in the wooden box in the middle of the Adachi parking lot.
Settled, Ohno's hand lets go and just rests on Jun's shoulder. As heavy as the sunlight and just as undemanding. The sky above is washed-out blue, the kind of sky only mid-day of mid-summer can find. Ohno breathes, in and out, silent at Jun's side. After a moment, Jun breathes too. It comes easier and easier and all of a sudden-in a rushing, swooping, dipping flood of it-there is peace and space. The empty sky and the feeling of Ohno breathing is all that he knows and Jun feels better.
With a sigh, Jun turns his head, finding Ohno looking at him with his sleepy, wise eyes. He smiles at him and closes his eyes.
Ohno kisses his forehead. It's something soft in a world of softness and, in a moment that stretches miles, everything is perfectly all right with the world.
Jun gets up and goes back to work.
Title: Above us, only sky
Rated: G
Warning: No?
Pairing: Ohno/Jun
Prompt: Speechless
Summary: Into the wordless, soundless blue beside you.
Above us, only sky
Things build up inside Jun and bubble like acid, race through him like a poison. Too much stress, not enough sleep, more work than he can handle, a friend's heartbreak that he can't heal. Nino never lets any of them try, ever, but it still hurts Jun more than he'd like. They're older now, things are supposed to be different now.
He's so angry and fragile and cold that he feels like a teenager again. He's thirty-years old and about to have a tantrum.
So he does the only thing he knows to do that will fix this even the slightest bit. He goes to Ohno. Ohno is sitting in a flower bed full of fake flowers, waiting for the camera to come back around to him and Jun knows he is messing up the shot he just can't care. It's mess up the shot or pitch a fit. He drops down into the bed among the plastic gerbera daisies and the silk baby's-breath and polyester ferns and sprawls there helplessly gangling in a way he shouldn't be anymore. Not really.
He doesn't say anything, doesn't lean, doesn't move, can barely breathe.
Ohno leans over and puts an arm around his shoulders. Ohno smells like salt air and fish scales and pine-scented shaving cream. Ohno smells like pancake makeup over the Ohno-ness, and hairspray. His arm is warm and solid, steady and present. It doesn't press on him, doesn't pull him in. It just is.
Jun grits his teeth as the director starts to speak. He can hear Ohno move-a hand, an arm, his head?-and the director changes topics, changes directions, the whole crew moves off a few feet to the left where Nino is playing red-hands with Sho and Aiba in a bizarre three-way free-for-all. Jun manages to unlock his jaw so that the muscle isn't jumping painfully.
Ohno's hand, the one on the arm around Jun's shoulder, curves and holds, getting a grip on him before tugging him until he's on his back in the make-believe flowers and pretend earth, curled into the imitation nature in the wooden box in the middle of the Adachi parking lot.
Settled, Ohno's hand lets go and just rests on Jun's shoulder. As heavy as the sunlight and just as undemanding. The sky above is washed-out blue, the kind of sky only mid-day of mid-summer can find. Ohno breathes, in and out, silent at Jun's side. After a moment, Jun breathes too. It comes easier and easier and all of a sudden-in a rushing, swooping, dipping flood of it-there is peace and space. The empty sky and the feeling of Ohno breathing is all that he knows and Jun feels better.
With a sigh, Jun turns his head, finding Ohno looking at him with his sleepy, wise eyes. He smiles at him and closes his eyes.
Ohno kisses his forehead. It's something soft in a world of softness and, in a moment that stretches miles, everything is perfectly all right with the world.
Jun gets up and goes back to work.