Jun/Aiba fic~
Now that the semester is done, I promised fic, and I'm delivering! I've had about 1/4 of this written since Thanksgiving, but I finally got it done! Now to get back on track for rainbowfilling...
Title: Repetition
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: G
Pairing: Jun/Aiba
Word Count: 2,698
Beta: yomimashou
Author's Note: Written for rainbowfilling! The prompt was daily routine.
Summary: Over the years, Aiba and Jun have developed a routine.
"I love you," says Aiba, adamant, like he has something to prove. He wraps himself tight around Jun, as tight as he can, but Jun always seems so closed off, even just like this, even lying in bed.
There's a beat of silence before, "Yeah," Jun responds, shifting stiffly in Aiba's embrace, "Yeah, me too."
Aiba doesn't say anything else, but No, really, he wants to say, really, I mean it.
...
When they get home at the end of a long day, it always feels more like they tumble into their apartment, rather than walk in like any normal person. "You elbowed me in the ribs," Jun gripes as he straightens Aiba's shoes in he genkan and places his hat with all the other hats of the same colour on the proper shelf in the closet, but there's a smile on his lips all the same, small and tired but there.
The kitchen is white and bare still; they've been living here together for almost six months now, but they've been so busy that they haven't had a chance to put a personal touch on it yet, besides the purple curtains Jun hung last month and the dining ware set that Aiba's parents gave them as a housewarming gift. But still, it's starting to feel like home, little by little, as they make more and more memories here, memories of Jun at the stove as Aiba peers over his shoulder, always wanting to be involved despite Jun swatting him away, and of the two of them doing dishes, side by side, hip to hip at their own little sink.
Aiba loves the times like those, but frequently, they're too tired from a long day of work to drum up the energy, and so they order curry or pick up bentos from the Lawson's on the corner, dropping the food on the kitchen table and sinking into their seats opposite from one another. Jun grumbles about the quality of their dinner, but Aiba likes this too, likes the instant gratification of the food and the rest and being able to reach across the table and hold Jun's hand in his, simple as it may be.
...
Aiba's bathroom counter isn't that messy, really, all things considered, but the way Jun rolls his eyes every time he sees it makes Aiba self conscious all the same. When he's over, Jun rearranges everything, puts the soaps together and the electric toothbrush that Aiba rarely uses on the side of the counter closer to the outlet so that everything looks neat and proper. "It's logical," Jun explains with exasperation under his tongue, like he's trying to bite it back but can't quite; it's too innate in is speech these days to suppress.
Jun's things live in the cabinet at Aiba's; Jun's over enough that it's only sensible for him to have his own things here, but the products are too numerous to leave out on the counter. When Aiba gets ready for bed, it's brief; he brushes his teeth with whatever paste he happened to pick up at the conbini, washes his face with soap on his counter. It's a ten minute ritual at most, and while it's not like he prides himself in being quick, he's usually tired enough that getting into bed sooner is a pretty good incentive. But Jun is a whole different story; Aiba thinks Jun probably takes longer to get ready for bed than Aiba takes to get ready in the morning. He'll only brush his teeth with one particular brand of toothpaste, and he times exactly how long he brushes each part of his mouth, down to the second. Aiba supposes that after the cosmetic orthodontia that he's had, it makes sense, but then after taking care of his teeth, Jun must remove his makeup with a specific product for sensitive skin, and then there are five different acne scrubs and soaps with which he diligently scours his face. Then finally comes face lotion and an all-natural hair spray of some variety so that his perm isn't crushed overnight before he's finally ready to join Aiba in bed.
"Sorry, did I keep you waiting?" Jun says with a facetiousness that means he thinks Aiba is judging him. Jun always thinks someone is judging him, Aiba thinks, but he doesn't know what to say about that, and so he swallows instead. All the things that Jun does before bed are probably good for him, good for his hair, his skin, his teeth, probably better for him than Aiba's brief and abrupt bedtime routine, and yet, still, Aiba wants so badly to say you don't need it, you're beautiful the way you are...
But he doesn't think Jun would take that very well, and so instead, he shakes his head quickly and replies, "No, not at all!" with the best smile he can fathom in the face of Jun's unhappiness that Aiba can't seem to understand.
...
It's usually late already by the time Jun and Aiba finish dinner, far too late, really. Work always ends late, and then getting home by car through the congested Tokyo highways takes years, and so, by the time they've eaten, it's far past an appropriate bedtime for how early they'll be expected at work the next morning. But yet, being alone, just the two of them, in their little apartment is such a rarity that willpower gives way, and after dinner is all cleaned up, they collapse together onto the sofa for a few minutes.
The sofa itself is from Aiba's previous apartment and doesn't match the decor at all; Jun had complained that he had it all planned out and that now that they had the room they were going to have a black leather living room set, but Aiba's brother had helped pick out the old sofa, and so, in the end, Jun had been forced to give in. Despite the fact that it doesn't match the decor at all, Jun still gripes when Aiba slides over the armrest or puts his heels into the cushions-- "Masaki," he grouses, but there's not bite to it. Still, "I thought you didn't like this sofa," Aiba giggles as he moves his heels and leans into Jun instead.
They've taken to watching late-night dramas recently. It's awkward sometimes, because like as not, one of them is in the 9 pm slot at least one night of the week, and if not, their bandmates, their senpai, their kouhai, but it hardly matters what's actually on the TV. Despite the fact that Jun rolls his eyes when Aiba can't remember characters' names or important plot points, following nighttime dramas is a good excuse to stay on the couch for a full hour, just the two of them, curled in on one another like they can't in public, like Aiba's been waiting to do all day long.
...
It's usually late already by the time Jun and Aiba finish dinner, far too late, really. Work always ends late, and then getting home by train without being recognized or queued for the front page of the tabloids the next day is practically an art, and so, by the time they've eaten, it's far past an appropriate bedtime for how early they'll be expected at work the next morning. But yet, being alone, just the two of them, in Aiba's tiny new apartment is such a rarity that willpower gives out and Aiba doesn't want to go to bed, not now, not yet.
But it's an awkward limbo, because he knows Jun is so bent on doing the "healthy" thing and the "right" thing, and Aiba doesn't want to argue with him, doesn't want to make him unhappy. Being with Jun is sometimes like walking eggshells to Aiba; the others don't seem to notice as much, or else don't seem to care, but Aiba just wants so badly to keep Jun happy, to keep him from throwing any more tantrums, that he's always willing to put what he wants aside. And so he holds his breath, waiting and hoping until Jun finally says "There's something I wanted to watch tonight--" and then Aiba grins because even if Jun will never say it, it means Jun wants to be with him, too.
Jun hates Aiba's couch, Aiba knows; Aiba's brother helped him choose it out when Aiba got his own place, and so Aiba loves it, but Jun always side-eyes it when he sits down, as if the distastefulness of the colour and the upholstery might rub off on him. Aiba hates to see Jun unhappy, and so he tries his best to cuddle up close and make Jun forget about the ugly couch, and most of the time, he thinks, it works, as Jun flips from channel to channel, looking for something suitable as quickly as possible, to back up his claim despite the fact that he has no idea what's on TV tonight. They mostly watch variety shows; Jun, like Aiba, is easily moved to tears, but unlike Aiba, hates to show his weakness, and so dramas and movies are usually to be avoided. Sometimes, Aiba likes to stay up to see themselves; now that C no Arashi has ended and D no Arashi plays an hour earlier, it's more easily justifiable, but Jun rarely wants to see. "That was fun, wasn't it?" Aiba says about particularly fond memories, "God, look at my hair, god, look at my skin," Jun responds, cringing away from the screen.
Aiba looks and sees nothing wrong, but he changes the channel anyway-- he can't seem to find a way to take away Jun's pain, but he'll do anything to keep Jun here with him for a few moments longer.
...
Aiba's side of the bathroom counter isn't that messy, really, all things considered, and the way Jun rolls his eyes every time he sees it makes Aiba stick his tongue out at him. About once a week, Jun rearranges everything, puts the soaps together and the electric toothbrush that Aiba rarely uses on the side of the counter closer to the outlet so that everything looks neat and proper. "It's logical," Jun explains with one eyebrow quirked, despite the fact that he knows it will be a mess again in a matter of days. Jun is well aware by now that Aiba is rarely logical, and despite the fact that Jun will never say it, Aiba has a feeling that it's not something he would ever want Aiba to change.
Jun's things live in the cabinet for the most part; he leaves a few bottles out, but the products are too numerous to all be left on the counter. When Aiba gets ready for bed, it's brief; he brushes his teeth with whatever paste he happened to pick up at the conbini, washes his face with soap on his counter. It's a ten minute ritual at most, and while it's not like he prides himself in being quick, he's usually tired enough that getting into bed sooner is a pretty good incentive. But Jun is a whole different story; Aiba is fairly certain Jun takes longer to get ready for bed than Aiba takes to get ready in the morning. He'll only brush his teeth with one particular brand of toothpaste, and he times exactly how long he brushes each part of his mouth, down to the second. Aiba thinks it's a little silly, but then again, Jun's obsession over details is something he's grown to love in Jun, and so he smiles as he watches Jun's bedtime routine from the bedroom. And then after taking care of his teeth, Jun must remove his makeup with a specific product for sensitive skin, and then there are five different facial scrubs and soaps with which he diligently scours his face. Then finally comes face lotion and an all-natural hair spray of some variety so that his perm isn't crushed overnight before he's finally ready to join Aiba in bed.
"Sorry, did I keep you waiting?" Jun says as he places a kiss on Aiba's cheek, his breath pleasantly minty from the toothpaste. And sometimes, Aiba is a little impatient and pouts at him, but all the things that Jun does before bed are probably good for him, good for his hair, his skin, his teeth, probably better for him than Aiba's brief and abrupt bedtime routine, and besides, they're what makes Jun Jun, and so he says nothing on the topic. Sometimes, it strikes him to say you don't need it, you're beautiful the way you are...
But he's said it so many times by now that he's sure Jun doesn't need to hear him say it again, and will probably punch him in the arm for being mushy, anyway. And so instead, he shakes his head quickly and replies, "You know I'd wait forever for you~" which earns him a punch anyway, but Jun's smiling and Aiba's smiling and it feels just right, all the same.
...
When they get home at the end of a long day, it always feels more like they tumble into Aiba's apartment, rather than walk in like any normal person. "You elbowed me in the ribs," Jun gripes with a roll of his eyes in disapproval at the mess in Aiba's small genkan, and he makes a point of putting his shoes neatly all the way off to one side, as if Aiba's mess will somehow ruin his brand new Armani sneakers. Aiba doesn't know if it means anything or not, but more than anything, he really wishes Jun would relax, would trust him.
The kitchen is white and bare still; Aiba has been living here for almost six months now, but he's been so busy that he hasn't had a chance to put a personal touch on it yet, and besides, he doesn't know the first thing about interior decoration, anyway. He's been tempted to ask Jun, but more than not trusting Jun with his apartment, he's afraid that Jun will say no, and Aiba doesn't really know if he has the courage to face that. And still, it's starting to feel like home, little by little, as he makes more and more memories here, memories of bringing Jun home with him like he wasn't able to back when he lived in Chiba, whether to wipe away the tears Jun has always tried to hard to hide, or to be pressed up on the kitchen counter much to his surprise and delight, or to have Jun roll his eyes and say, "God, you don't know anything about cooking, no, I'll do it for you, you just watch," in a way that made Aiba smile and think that it was perhaps less about Jun being a control freak and more about doing something nice for Aiba without letting it show.
Aiba loves the times like those, but more often, they're too tired from a long day of work for anything so dramatic, and so they order curry or pick up bentos from the Lawson's on the corner, dropping the food on the kitchen table and sinking into their seats opposite from one another. Jun grumbles about the quality of their dinner, but Aiba likes this too, and he hopes that it doesn't bother Jun too much, because more than good food or a nice kitchen, Aiba just wants Jun to stay with him this way every day.
...
"I love you," says Aiba, voice warm and open, as if he's never been happier in his life. He presses close in Jun's embrace, loving the way Jun holds him tighter, tighter still, as if they can't be close enough.
There's a beat of silence before, "Yeah," Jun responds, voice heavy, as if he's on the verge of sleep, his guard let down more fully than he'd ever show anyone else. "Yeah, me too."
And Aiba doesn't say anything else, because he hardly needs to, not now, not ever. The words are part of the routine, but even when it feels like his heart might burst, wrapped up in Jun's arms, Aiba is fairly certain that his love grows stronger with every repetition.
Title: Repetition
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: G
Pairing: Jun/Aiba
Word Count: 2,698
Beta: yomimashou
Author's Note: Written for rainbowfilling! The prompt was daily routine.
Summary: Over the years, Aiba and Jun have developed a routine.
"I love you," says Aiba, adamant, like he has something to prove. He wraps himself tight around Jun, as tight as he can, but Jun always seems so closed off, even just like this, even lying in bed.
There's a beat of silence before, "Yeah," Jun responds, shifting stiffly in Aiba's embrace, "Yeah, me too."
Aiba doesn't say anything else, but No, really, he wants to say, really, I mean it.
...
When they get home at the end of a long day, it always feels more like they tumble into their apartment, rather than walk in like any normal person. "You elbowed me in the ribs," Jun gripes as he straightens Aiba's shoes in he genkan and places his hat with all the other hats of the same colour on the proper shelf in the closet, but there's a smile on his lips all the same, small and tired but there.
The kitchen is white and bare still; they've been living here together for almost six months now, but they've been so busy that they haven't had a chance to put a personal touch on it yet, besides the purple curtains Jun hung last month and the dining ware set that Aiba's parents gave them as a housewarming gift. But still, it's starting to feel like home, little by little, as they make more and more memories here, memories of Jun at the stove as Aiba peers over his shoulder, always wanting to be involved despite Jun swatting him away, and of the two of them doing dishes, side by side, hip to hip at their own little sink.
Aiba loves the times like those, but frequently, they're too tired from a long day of work to drum up the energy, and so they order curry or pick up bentos from the Lawson's on the corner, dropping the food on the kitchen table and sinking into their seats opposite from one another. Jun grumbles about the quality of their dinner, but Aiba likes this too, likes the instant gratification of the food and the rest and being able to reach across the table and hold Jun's hand in his, simple as it may be.
...
Aiba's bathroom counter isn't that messy, really, all things considered, but the way Jun rolls his eyes every time he sees it makes Aiba self conscious all the same. When he's over, Jun rearranges everything, puts the soaps together and the electric toothbrush that Aiba rarely uses on the side of the counter closer to the outlet so that everything looks neat and proper. "It's logical," Jun explains with exasperation under his tongue, like he's trying to bite it back but can't quite; it's too innate in is speech these days to suppress.
Jun's things live in the cabinet at Aiba's; Jun's over enough that it's only sensible for him to have his own things here, but the products are too numerous to leave out on the counter. When Aiba gets ready for bed, it's brief; he brushes his teeth with whatever paste he happened to pick up at the conbini, washes his face with soap on his counter. It's a ten minute ritual at most, and while it's not like he prides himself in being quick, he's usually tired enough that getting into bed sooner is a pretty good incentive. But Jun is a whole different story; Aiba thinks Jun probably takes longer to get ready for bed than Aiba takes to get ready in the morning. He'll only brush his teeth with one particular brand of toothpaste, and he times exactly how long he brushes each part of his mouth, down to the second. Aiba supposes that after the cosmetic orthodontia that he's had, it makes sense, but then after taking care of his teeth, Jun must remove his makeup with a specific product for sensitive skin, and then there are five different acne scrubs and soaps with which he diligently scours his face. Then finally comes face lotion and an all-natural hair spray of some variety so that his perm isn't crushed overnight before he's finally ready to join Aiba in bed.
"Sorry, did I keep you waiting?" Jun says with a facetiousness that means he thinks Aiba is judging him. Jun always thinks someone is judging him, Aiba thinks, but he doesn't know what to say about that, and so he swallows instead. All the things that Jun does before bed are probably good for him, good for his hair, his skin, his teeth, probably better for him than Aiba's brief and abrupt bedtime routine, and yet, still, Aiba wants so badly to say you don't need it, you're beautiful the way you are...
But he doesn't think Jun would take that very well, and so instead, he shakes his head quickly and replies, "No, not at all!" with the best smile he can fathom in the face of Jun's unhappiness that Aiba can't seem to understand.
...
It's usually late already by the time Jun and Aiba finish dinner, far too late, really. Work always ends late, and then getting home by car through the congested Tokyo highways takes years, and so, by the time they've eaten, it's far past an appropriate bedtime for how early they'll be expected at work the next morning. But yet, being alone, just the two of them, in their little apartment is such a rarity that willpower gives way, and after dinner is all cleaned up, they collapse together onto the sofa for a few minutes.
The sofa itself is from Aiba's previous apartment and doesn't match the decor at all; Jun had complained that he had it all planned out and that now that they had the room they were going to have a black leather living room set, but Aiba's brother had helped pick out the old sofa, and so, in the end, Jun had been forced to give in. Despite the fact that it doesn't match the decor at all, Jun still gripes when Aiba slides over the armrest or puts his heels into the cushions-- "Masaki," he grouses, but there's not bite to it. Still, "I thought you didn't like this sofa," Aiba giggles as he moves his heels and leans into Jun instead.
They've taken to watching late-night dramas recently. It's awkward sometimes, because like as not, one of them is in the 9 pm slot at least one night of the week, and if not, their bandmates, their senpai, their kouhai, but it hardly matters what's actually on the TV. Despite the fact that Jun rolls his eyes when Aiba can't remember characters' names or important plot points, following nighttime dramas is a good excuse to stay on the couch for a full hour, just the two of them, curled in on one another like they can't in public, like Aiba's been waiting to do all day long.
...
It's usually late already by the time Jun and Aiba finish dinner, far too late, really. Work always ends late, and then getting home by train without being recognized or queued for the front page of the tabloids the next day is practically an art, and so, by the time they've eaten, it's far past an appropriate bedtime for how early they'll be expected at work the next morning. But yet, being alone, just the two of them, in Aiba's tiny new apartment is such a rarity that willpower gives out and Aiba doesn't want to go to bed, not now, not yet.
But it's an awkward limbo, because he knows Jun is so bent on doing the "healthy" thing and the "right" thing, and Aiba doesn't want to argue with him, doesn't want to make him unhappy. Being with Jun is sometimes like walking eggshells to Aiba; the others don't seem to notice as much, or else don't seem to care, but Aiba just wants so badly to keep Jun happy, to keep him from throwing any more tantrums, that he's always willing to put what he wants aside. And so he holds his breath, waiting and hoping until Jun finally says "There's something I wanted to watch tonight--" and then Aiba grins because even if Jun will never say it, it means Jun wants to be with him, too.
Jun hates Aiba's couch, Aiba knows; Aiba's brother helped him choose it out when Aiba got his own place, and so Aiba loves it, but Jun always side-eyes it when he sits down, as if the distastefulness of the colour and the upholstery might rub off on him. Aiba hates to see Jun unhappy, and so he tries his best to cuddle up close and make Jun forget about the ugly couch, and most of the time, he thinks, it works, as Jun flips from channel to channel, looking for something suitable as quickly as possible, to back up his claim despite the fact that he has no idea what's on TV tonight. They mostly watch variety shows; Jun, like Aiba, is easily moved to tears, but unlike Aiba, hates to show his weakness, and so dramas and movies are usually to be avoided. Sometimes, Aiba likes to stay up to see themselves; now that C no Arashi has ended and D no Arashi plays an hour earlier, it's more easily justifiable, but Jun rarely wants to see. "That was fun, wasn't it?" Aiba says about particularly fond memories, "God, look at my hair, god, look at my skin," Jun responds, cringing away from the screen.
Aiba looks and sees nothing wrong, but he changes the channel anyway-- he can't seem to find a way to take away Jun's pain, but he'll do anything to keep Jun here with him for a few moments longer.
...
Aiba's side of the bathroom counter isn't that messy, really, all things considered, and the way Jun rolls his eyes every time he sees it makes Aiba stick his tongue out at him. About once a week, Jun rearranges everything, puts the soaps together and the electric toothbrush that Aiba rarely uses on the side of the counter closer to the outlet so that everything looks neat and proper. "It's logical," Jun explains with one eyebrow quirked, despite the fact that he knows it will be a mess again in a matter of days. Jun is well aware by now that Aiba is rarely logical, and despite the fact that Jun will never say it, Aiba has a feeling that it's not something he would ever want Aiba to change.
Jun's things live in the cabinet for the most part; he leaves a few bottles out, but the products are too numerous to all be left on the counter. When Aiba gets ready for bed, it's brief; he brushes his teeth with whatever paste he happened to pick up at the conbini, washes his face with soap on his counter. It's a ten minute ritual at most, and while it's not like he prides himself in being quick, he's usually tired enough that getting into bed sooner is a pretty good incentive. But Jun is a whole different story; Aiba is fairly certain Jun takes longer to get ready for bed than Aiba takes to get ready in the morning. He'll only brush his teeth with one particular brand of toothpaste, and he times exactly how long he brushes each part of his mouth, down to the second. Aiba thinks it's a little silly, but then again, Jun's obsession over details is something he's grown to love in Jun, and so he smiles as he watches Jun's bedtime routine from the bedroom. And then after taking care of his teeth, Jun must remove his makeup with a specific product for sensitive skin, and then there are five different facial scrubs and soaps with which he diligently scours his face. Then finally comes face lotion and an all-natural hair spray of some variety so that his perm isn't crushed overnight before he's finally ready to join Aiba in bed.
"Sorry, did I keep you waiting?" Jun says as he places a kiss on Aiba's cheek, his breath pleasantly minty from the toothpaste. And sometimes, Aiba is a little impatient and pouts at him, but all the things that Jun does before bed are probably good for him, good for his hair, his skin, his teeth, probably better for him than Aiba's brief and abrupt bedtime routine, and besides, they're what makes Jun Jun, and so he says nothing on the topic. Sometimes, it strikes him to say you don't need it, you're beautiful the way you are...
But he's said it so many times by now that he's sure Jun doesn't need to hear him say it again, and will probably punch him in the arm for being mushy, anyway. And so instead, he shakes his head quickly and replies, "You know I'd wait forever for you~" which earns him a punch anyway, but Jun's smiling and Aiba's smiling and it feels just right, all the same.
...
When they get home at the end of a long day, it always feels more like they tumble into Aiba's apartment, rather than walk in like any normal person. "You elbowed me in the ribs," Jun gripes with a roll of his eyes in disapproval at the mess in Aiba's small genkan, and he makes a point of putting his shoes neatly all the way off to one side, as if Aiba's mess will somehow ruin his brand new Armani sneakers. Aiba doesn't know if it means anything or not, but more than anything, he really wishes Jun would relax, would trust him.
The kitchen is white and bare still; Aiba has been living here for almost six months now, but he's been so busy that he hasn't had a chance to put a personal touch on it yet, and besides, he doesn't know the first thing about interior decoration, anyway. He's been tempted to ask Jun, but more than not trusting Jun with his apartment, he's afraid that Jun will say no, and Aiba doesn't really know if he has the courage to face that. And still, it's starting to feel like home, little by little, as he makes more and more memories here, memories of bringing Jun home with him like he wasn't able to back when he lived in Chiba, whether to wipe away the tears Jun has always tried to hard to hide, or to be pressed up on the kitchen counter much to his surprise and delight, or to have Jun roll his eyes and say, "God, you don't know anything about cooking, no, I'll do it for you, you just watch," in a way that made Aiba smile and think that it was perhaps less about Jun being a control freak and more about doing something nice for Aiba without letting it show.
Aiba loves the times like those, but more often, they're too tired from a long day of work for anything so dramatic, and so they order curry or pick up bentos from the Lawson's on the corner, dropping the food on the kitchen table and sinking into their seats opposite from one another. Jun grumbles about the quality of their dinner, but Aiba likes this too, and he hopes that it doesn't bother Jun too much, because more than good food or a nice kitchen, Aiba just wants Jun to stay with him this way every day.
...
"I love you," says Aiba, voice warm and open, as if he's never been happier in his life. He presses close in Jun's embrace, loving the way Jun holds him tighter, tighter still, as if they can't be close enough.
There's a beat of silence before, "Yeah," Jun responds, voice heavy, as if he's on the verge of sleep, his guard let down more fully than he'd ever show anyone else. "Yeah, me too."
And Aiba doesn't say anything else, because he hardly needs to, not now, not ever. The words are part of the routine, but even when it feels like his heart might burst, wrapped up in Jun's arms, Aiba is fairly certain that his love grows stronger with every repetition.