Special Delivery
A slightly belated Christmas gift! Enjoy. ♥
Title: Little of Your Time [3/6]
Author: waxrose
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Nino/Jun with Aiba/Jun
Length: ~2,000 words [Story total = ~6,500]
Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who has left such wonderful comments and been patient with me over a fic that was supposed be out last August - especially aoimidori. ♥ I was a bit stuck on the direction to take for this chapter and ended up incorporating some old drabbles I had written - I think it worked out well enough. I have no idea how this is going to end, honestly. :|
Summary: A remix of this drabble, originally done for aoimidori.
Part One | Part Two
Sho has always found other people's love problems a little ridiculous. Whether you like someone or not, whether to tell them or not - he didn't get how people always agonized over these problems, picked them over like they were some grand mystery. Love was simple, attraction ever simpler; people just chose to complicate it because they couldn't deal with the possibility that there wouldn't be a happy outcome. They looked for signals, signs, portents that lined up with the ending that they wanted, even when it would be much less agony to accept the harsh truth and move on.
Nino has been in a black mood all afternoon. He has his nose buried in a manga, flipping through the pages too rapidly to be actually reading it. His eyebrows are creased together in that way he has when he is trying not to look pissed off. He had automatically groped at Ohno's ass when their captain has slid onto the couch beside him, slotting up neatly against Nino's side, but it had looked half-hearted, joyless.
Sho briefly pauses to consider how pathetic his life was when he thought it was weird that one of his bandmates wasn't gleefully pinching another's ass.
Aiba had casually mentioned to him the other day, when they had gone out drinking, that he thought that Nino and Jun might be sleeping together.
"You're crazy," Sho had told him flat-out, uneasily, because Aiba's expression was dead serious.
"I don't know," Aiba insisted, staring down at his bottle, picking at the label morosely with his fingertips. "Neither of them will tell me anything. They act all weird around each other, though. Too casual."
"So maybe they had a fight." Sho signaled the bartender for another beer; he was not nearly drunk enough for this conversation. "Or whatever it is, they'll sort it out between themselves, maybe."
Aiba sighed, like Sho wasn't being helpful at all. "Maybe," he echoed doubtfully.
Aiba had switched the topic after that and Sho had chalked the whole weird conversation up to Aiba's imagination. He hadn't quite forgotten it, though and he's started to wonder, in the past couple of days, whether or not Aiba had been right after all.
Sho watches Nino slowly dress himself after the day's shoot is over, fingers lazily fiddling with his shirt's buttonholes while he darts glances at Jun, wry, silent, almost expressionless.
Leader had already scooted out of the door with an alarming speed, waving them off with a vague goodbye, saying something about doing some fishing. It was 10:00pm, but that was no longer unusual for Ohno. Sho still worried some nights about boats capsizing and the freezing wind off the ocean and Ohno not dressing properly or eating enough or bothering to sleep before the next morning's practice - but Leader really loved to fish, so there was really nothing that could be done.
Sho is pretty sure that Jun has already re-arranged the contents of his shoulder bag about three times.
"Matsujun!" Aiba flails at Jun, grinning mischievously as he almost lands in his lap. "Yakiniku?"
"Not tonight. I'm too tired." Jun's reply is curt, but he does almost look kind of sorry, so Aiba only pouts a little before flinging himself at Sho.
"Sho-chan, come out to dinner with me?"
Sho sighs, smiling at the insistent tug on his sleeve, Aiba's pleading glance as he leaned against Sho. "All right. Just for awhile."
*
Sho hadn't meant to spy. He respected his bandmate's privacy (and most of the time, he honestly just did not want to know), and he usually just had the unfortunate luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and thus privy to a lot of things that he could really have led a happy and fulfilling life without seeing.
Like now, he and Aiba were down the sidewalk and around the block before Sho realized that he had been checking his messages during a break in the shoot and slipped his cell phone into the trousers he had been wearing when the director called them back together.
It's late, and there are only a few people wandering around the building, so Sho races impatiently up the stairs two at a time back to their dressing room.
The door is open just a crack, the strong florescent lighting beaming out into the darker hallway as Sho approaches, breathing a bit heavily from his run up the stairs.
He reaches to push the door inwards and freezes, breathing catching in his throat when he hears a low, strained moan just inside the room.
It's clearly Nino, even though it's unlike any sound he's ever heard come from Nino before.
Sho steps back just a little and tries to compose himself (it's not helping that there are still sounds coming from inside the room, quiet laughter and whispers that Sho can barely make out, the almost imperceptible sounds of a bodies shifting against furniture or a wall, or - ) - he expected this. He didn't come back deliberately to find this, but he knew, some part of him knew exactly what he would see.
The fact that he came back anyways is the hardest to come to terms with. Sho stomps loudly a bit, moving towards the door and pushing it open as slowly, loudly and normally as he can. Jun is perched on a stool, one hand running through tousled curls as he fumbles inside his passenger bag. He looks up when Sho comes in and his expression is both carefully guarded and somewhat relieved.
Nino is still shirtless, staring somewhat sullenly as he stretches his arms above his head, lingering in the center of the room.
"Forgot my phone," Sho says, and heads for the closet where he hung the trousers up for the wardrobe staff, feeling odd that he was suddenly the one explaining himself to them.
"See you," Jun says, as Sho makes his exit again.
"'Night," Nino says, and Sho has known him long enough to be able to see the nervous tension itching at his skin.
"Ready to go?" Aiba asks when Sho returns at street level, phone still clutched in his hand.
"Yes," Sho says, mind reeling a little and unable to focus on walking, directions, anything past the smooth glide of Jun's hands on Nino's back, Nino's teeth scraping the curve of Jun's throat in his mind's eye.
*
"We need to stop this," Jun says, breaking the silence that had settled between them after Sho had left. He watched Nino for a reaction, but Nino's face gave nothing away. "I don't -" His words catch in his mind - he knows what he feels, but it's something too unwound, to snarled and sharp and dangerous to express.
"Don't," Nino says, a warning in his voice. He looks uncomfortable."Let's not talk about it."
"We - " Jun gives up, rubbing at his forehead with one hand in frustration. "I don't want this anymore," he finally says, taking the easy way out.
There is a long silence.
Nino's expression is impassive, arms folded across his bare chest. Jun looks away, sliding off the stool and gathering up his bag. "I'm going home," he says, his throat tight.
Nino just lets him go without a word - somehow that makes Jun angrier than anything else.
*
"Jun-chan." Aiba looks sleepy, soft and comfortable in sweats and a hoodie. Jun tucks his hands into his jacket pockets, his heart skipping in fear. "What are you doing all the way over here?"
It's just past midnight now and Jun had circled the city block around Aiba's place a good five times, trying to convince himself that this wasn't a good idea. It didn't work - he already knew that it wasn't a good idea, knew that things were fucked up enough already, but he couldn't stop himself. Even now, looking at Aiba, he could feel a tight coil of want and desperation and frustration unspiraling in him.
How long ago now had Nino turned up on his doorstep just like this, no words, just an unspoken sense that there was a line to be crossed and not just crossed, but needed to be shattered utterly, wiped away until it didn't exist at all?
"Matsujun?" Aiba reaches out a hand to feather against Jun's overheated cheek. "Hey, you're shaking."
Jun takes a deep breath, catching Aiba's wrist in one hand and drawing him in, closing in eyes just in time to see Aiba's widen imperceptibly as he kisses him.
It's like that for long minutes, Aiba's hand warm in his as their mouths move together, slow like. Jun lets go of Aiba's hand, reaching out to pull Aiba's hips flush against his. Aiba makes a low noise into Jun's mouth, fingers tracing slowly over the bumps of Jun's spine, dragging the hem of his shirt up slightly as he goes.
Jun can feel his pulse fluttering madly in his throat, aroused only from Aiba's skin pressing against his, Aiba's lips soft and wet angled against his. He's been waiting for far too long. He breaks off the kiss, feeling dizzy and too hot, sucking in air. Aiba tucks his face into the curve of Jun's neck, breaths rushed and hot against Jun's skin. Jun cards his fingers through Aiba's hair, movements slow in the warm stillness of the room.
"Masaki," he whispers against Aiba's ear, nosing at the soft strands of hair. Aiba shivers against him, makes a vague noise into Jun's neck before pulling back to look at Jun properly. His eyes are dark, serious and warm. Jun kisses him again, lingering on the curve of Aiba's upper lip. Jun doesn't know how to ask.
"Finally," Aiba says quietly, simply. He reaches around Jun to lock the door behind him. He wraps his arms around Jun's waist, leaning in for another kiss and lets Jun back him towards his bedroom.
Jun's fingers shake as he slides Aiba's sweater over his head. He can feel Aiba watching him, his fingers still lightly stroking the bare skin under the hem of Jun's shirt.
"Don't." There's something intense and fragile in Aiba's gaze, dark eyes locked on Jun as the latter presses him back against the bed, their legs and arms a hopeless tangle as they fall back together.
"What?" Jun strips off his shirt quickly, moving to straddle Aiba and take care of his pants. He's fast, practiced, worried that if he stops to think he'll think twice and think better of this.
Aiba lifts his hips obligingly and groans softly as Jun palms the front of his underwear, hissing slowly through his teeth as Jun kneads his growing hardness slowly, teasingly. Aiba is beautiful when he's undone like this, emotionally naked and almost painful in his projected intensity.
"Don't pretend that he doesn't matter." Aiba's words jolt him, make Jun pause for a second, sit back.
Aiba is silent, unmoving beneath him and he's serious, like the tentative sweep of his fingers against the back of Jun's wrist. His words make cold fear rise in Jun's chest, make him realize that he and Nino hadn't been so careful after all.
"He doesn't have anything to do with this," Jun says finally, and they both know it's a lie, but Jun doesn't leave much room for argument, shifting and grinding down against Aiba, fingernails biting deeply into Aiba's shoulders as they rock against each other.
"I want -" Aiba says, but Jun doesn't let him finish, pinning down his wrists and kissing him until neither of them have breath left for words.
Part Four
TBC.