"Language Barriers Do Not Apply" Chapter Four
Title: Language Barriers Do Not Apply
Chapter: 4/12
Fandom: Arashi
Character, Pairing(s): Matsumoto Jun/Zac Efron, Sho --> Jun
Rating: T
Warnings: Language, angst.
Summary: What had been a one-time thing has turned into ... not a one-time thing. And they aren't the only ones involved.
Eleven long hours later found Zac standing in the open terminals of the Narita airport with his carry-on clutched like a lifeline. He'd always thought that airports were fairly international- same structure, same general flow, and now, with the fast-speaking natives moving all around him, he no longer held that belief. It was like being dumped in the most unknown location he could think of without any way to understand what was going on around him.
He tried not to look like a tourist, but he had his Japanese-English dictionary in his hand to pull out every time he came across a sign he couldn't read (and looking up the kanji took a long time, even though the dictionary was separated into sections like 'travel' and 'airports'). He just needed to get to the baggage claim; eventually, following a few other people who looked like they had just arrived ended up getting him to the right location. He waited for his luggage to show up on the moving claim with knots of apprehension in his stomach.
Pulling out his cell phone, he tried to dial, only to have the screen inform him that his battery was dead before it turned completely off.
"Shit," he muttered, jamming the phone back into his pocket. A quick look around confirmed, thank goodness, that there was only one set of doors leading out of the international (he was pleased that he had picked up that much, at least) baggage claim, so there was really only one place Jun could be waiting for him to exit. When his bags finally made their way down the slowly moving conveyer, he grabbed them and made his way to the exit, where the setting sun was shining in through the windows.
He wasn't sure what to look for. Without his phone, he would have to be a bit more obvious- enough to catch his ride's attention, at least. There hadn't looked to be anyone within the baggage claim waiting for him (and he'd checked all the papers held up twice, just to be sure).
Every car that slowed near the doors, he craned to see- but not one stopped. After fifteen minutes, his nervousness was growing- had there been a problem? Had Jun been held up? There were a thousand things that could go wrong or be delayed, and each was solvable easily had he only remembered his phone charger. He didn't have Jun's number memorized to call from a pay phone, and mentally cursed himself for not writing it down outside of his mobile's address book. He stood again, seeing a black car that looked like it could have tinted windows (if stars in Japan were anything like stars in the States, it was a must to avoid being seen) and then, when it failed to stop, sat back down on his luggage again. His midsection was churning.
"Where are you?" he muttered, to himself, checking his watch again. It was synched to the airport clocks hanging from the ceiling, so he knew he'd gotten the conversion right. It was well past the time he'd arrived at the terminal; it was well past the time he'd imagine Jun would arrive to pick him up.
Zac turned, looking back towards the gates into baggage claim. It was going to get dark soon, and he had his dictionary and hotel reservations- if nothing else, he could at least get himself to his room. He was tired, and his head hurt, and the hundreds of people speaking quick, clipped Japanese around him was only making the entire situation that much worse. He needed to lie down- he needed to avoid getting worked up.
It was a little late for that, but Zac grabbed his belongings and headed back inside, making his way to one of the desks near the doors. He pulled out his dictionary when he got to the counter.
"Hi," he said, slowly, flipping through the pages. "I need- a cab."
The woman at the counter said something quickly, too quickly for Zac to pick up. He was too rattled to grasp what he normally would have caught.
"Again?" he tried, and she repeated it, slower.
"Where to?" she asked.
"Ah, Grant Hyatt Tokyo," he replied. She gave him a smile, and began typing something into the computer. A few moments later, she turned to him again.
"Do you have Japanese money?" she asked. He nodded. More typing, and then she picked up the phone to call. Trying to ignore his throbbing headache, Zac looked over to the doors once more, just in case Jun had come in trying to find him. There were a lot of figures moving around, but none were familiar- none were the face he was hoping to see. There was only so much he could do to rationalize away the awful crushing sensation in his chest. The disappointment was bitter in the back of his throat. The woman helping him put the phone down, and he turned back. "It will be here in ten minutes," she said.
"Thank you," he replied, listlessly, reaching for his bags once more. He went back out the doors to wait.
Seated on his luggage, in the flurry of activity around him, he began to think the entire trip had been a very, very poor decision.
--------
“Thanks for the hard work everyone!” he shouted as he walked away from the set for the day. He received several polite thank yous in return. Sho ran a hand through his hair, still stiff with hair spray from the long day of drama shooting. He yawned, going through the double doors of the soundstage and out into the NTV studio lobby.
He didn't expect to see Jun sitting in a chair thumbing through a magazine, waiting by the exit. Sho felt his stomach drop down to somewhere near his knees, best estimate. It was the day, wasn't it? The day his...friend was arriving. Outwardly, Jun looked calm, but Sho knew that when Jun was angry, truly angry, he was far more cutting and merciless. And he did it without even yelling.
Of course this was all bound to come back and bite him in the ass. Sho had been irritated with himself all week. He'd had every opportunity to confess to Jun about answering his phone, but he'd been too ashamed to admit it. And so each hour that he held the secret, his guilt increased. And as this day had approached, he'd been increasingly on edge. He'd screwed up his lines a few times that day, and no amount of apologizing would make up for wasting people's time and wasting the network's money.
All he'd wanted was to just come out and admit to Jun what he'd done, but now that Jun was here, right in front of him with nobody else there - Sho wanted to just run the other way. When did he get so ridiculous? He halted in front of Jun's chair.
“Hey.”
Jun didn't even look up from the magazine. “What time's the flight?”
Well, never let it be said that Matsumoto Jun wasn't one to get right to the point. He could feign surprise. He could tell Jun he didn't know what he was talking about, but he didn't need to be any more of a jerk about this. Sho watched people coming in and out of the TV station doors. He was grateful nobody else was paying attention. “5:00 PM I think. Around then.”
He watched Jun's hands freeze, then tighten around the magazine. “5:00 PM...on what day?”
Sho swallowed. “Today.”
Jun set the magazine down and stood. “It's already half past five. I have to go.” Sho stood aside and let the other man pass. He couldn't read Jun's expression, which only proved how angry he was.
“I'm sorry,” he said to Jun's retreating back, causing him to stop. “Let me...I can explain.” But could he?
Jun turned around. Sho had never seen this particular look directed at him. As if he wasn't even there. “We have nothing to say to each other.”
With that, Jun went out the doors, moving through the crowd of people on the street to hail a cab. All Sho could do was watch him go.
-------
Zac wasn't at the airport.
Jun hadn't bothered with a hat, or his glasses- he hadn't bothered with anything. His head was buzzing with barely suppressed rage, and no outlet for which to release it, and he just stood inside the doors at baggage claim, feeling like he'd swallowed his heart. He tried calling again, but he'd already dialed the number 8 times, and each time it had gone straight to voice mail- either Zac's phone was off, or he was being actively ignored.
He wanted to hit something. He wanted to hit something, he wanted to hit someone- it had taken all of his willpower to leave the studio Sho was filming at without burying his fist into the drywall. He'd had years of practice of keeping his cool, but never before had he had to use it on his bandmates; never before had he felt so betrayed, so terrible. And now his other world was falling apart, too, because he was standing in the Narita airport looking for someone who had obviously left, who wasn't taking his calls- and it wasn't even his fault.
He couldn't fathom why Sho had done that. In fact, he couldn't really think about it at all without feeling the rising ire all over again, jumbled up on top of everything else, choking him until he couldn't breathe anymore. He had to find Zac- he had to explain. He had to apologize. But if he couldn't get ahold of him through his cell phone, the only other thing he could do was-
Jun spun, heading back out the doors to the car still idling by the sidewalk, barking out the destination as soon as he climbed in. "Grand Hyatt Tokyo."
He couldn't keep his hands from shaking during the drive towards the hotel. He tried to calm himself down, but his nerves were on edge, alight, driving him crazy- he should have known something had happened. He should have known when he hadn't heard anything for days. But he never thought that someone would take a call on his phone without relaying the message...
The car stopped, and Jun was out the door before the tires had finished squealing, heading into the lobby.
The woman at the counter looked startled as he approached the desk.
"I need a room number," Jun said, without preamble, stumbling over the words. "I need the room number for Mike Jackson."
"I'm sorry, sir, we don't give out room numbers of guests," the receptionist said. Jun barely held back slamming his palms down on the marble, and only managed to stop by reminding himself that it wasn't her fault- none of it was, really.
"Then call up," he demanded. "Call up to the room. Please."
Either she knew who he was, and was complying because of it, or she sensed the agitation in his voice and assumed it was an emergency- he didn't care which it was. All that mattered was that she picked up the phone and pressed the buttons to call up to the room. He impatiently tapped his fingertips against the counter as he waited, heart pounding in his ears. No one in the lobby was paying attention to him; at least, he couldn't see anyone looking in his direction when he scanned the room quickly.
"May I ask your name?" the receptionist inquired, startling Jun from his reverie. It stumped him for a moment, because they hadn't planned on having one for him- it wasn't supposed to be like this.
"Tsukasa," he stammered, finally, too fast- it was too obvious he was lying, and he wasn't in the correct state to care. The receptionist repeated it into the phone, and Jun held his breath. The next moment felt like it lasted a lifetime.
"Very good," the woman said, replacing the phone receiver in the cradle. She leveled him an unreadable expression. "It's number 429. You can use the elevator through that hallway."
Jun was off with barely more than a mumbled "thank you". The elevator ride felt like it lasted forever. He couldn't tell what he was more nervous about- seeing Zac again, which was ridiculous in more ways than he really cared to go over, or the inevitable confrontation. Thinking about everything made his blood boil; he clenched his fists at his side, over and over, digging his fingernails into his palms.
The doors opened on floor 4, and he stepped into the hallway. When he reached room 429, it took a couple moments to get his hand to stop trembling enough to knock- he tried to come up with the English way to say what he needed, and came up far too blank. There was a long pause, and then the anticipated click of the handle moving.
"I'm sorry," he gushed, in English, as soon as the door opened. "I'm sorry, I-"
His mind struggled to find the words. Zac's face was hard, carefully neutral- he held the door open enough to talk, but no more; it was obvious that it wasn't an invitation to enter.
"I didn't-" he tried again, trailing off, because Zac started talking. It was fast, too fast to catch, too loud and rushed and increasing in tone as he continued. Jun could only pick up words, fragments, and the underlying emotion behind everything. "Cab", "there", "call", it was just snippets- he couldn't get it all. And then Zac was shouting, and pointing, and it just incessed him further, because he didn't deserve to be yelled at, if only he could explain that he hadn't meant to do anything wrong.
"It wasn't my fault!" he shouted in Japanese. "I didn't even get the message, I didn't know what time you were coming- Sho picked up my phone and didn't tell me, he was the one you talked to! He never relayed anything, I never knew. I didn't mean to leave you there, I swear, God, I swear I didn't-"
He didn't know how much Zac got; not much, by the still furious look on the American man's face. Zac leaned in, finger in Jun's face.
"How could you-" and then a garble that Jun couldn't latch onto- "for you, here" and more, more he couldn't pick up on. Zac was talking too fast, shouting too loud.
"I didn't mean to!" he tried yelling, over Zac's voice- it was a stupid tactic, because the other man already couldn't understand most of what he was saying. "It wasn't my fault, I didn't mean to, I didn't know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"
Zac stopped shouting very suddenly, looking slightly breathless and still angry. His hand dropped down to his side, and they just stood there for a long time, staring at each other. Jun didn't know what to say to make it better- if there was anything. The entire situation was a convoluted web around his shoulders, bearing down on him. His cell phone beeped in his pocket; a reminder from his calendar.
"Tomorrow," Jun tried, slower, in English. "You- come to filming."
"Why?" Zac spat.
"To watch," Jun said. He dug into his pockets to find a crumbled corner of paper. He couldn't think of anything else to do- it was all he could offer. "Arashi no Shukudai-kun."
Zac just looked warily at him as he scratched the address onto the paper with the almost-empty pen he found in the other side of his coat. At least he wasn't yelling anymore- but the door hadn't opened any further to allow Jun in.
This was not how he had imagined the first night going.
Once finished, he handed the ripped corner to Zac, who accepted it with trepidation.
"10 AM," he said, in English again. "Please."
There was a long pause, as Zac's eyes roved over the hastily scribbled note.
"Fine," he said, finally. "Yeah, fine."
"You'll come?"
"Yeah." Zac sighed, hand falling down to his side. He looked at the floor, at Jun's shoes, and then across the hall, to the room numbers on the wall. "I'm tired. Long day."
Jun swallowed hard. There were so many things he wanted to say, still more he wanted to explain, but he couldn't- he didn't know how. And the dismissal was easily read in Zac's tone. Jun couldn't tell if his stomach was dropping from disappointment, or the loss of adrenaline that had been fueling him, or a combination of both.
"Okay," he said. "Then- see you."
"Bye," Zac said, and the door clicked closed.
-----
“And you're sure he'll stay back? There's a hundred screaming girls in the audience, MatsuJun,” Nino remarked as they prepared for filming to start.
“He's just watching. He'll be up in the booth with the crew,” Ohno offered, trying to make peace as always. Jun had not met Sho's eyes since arriving for the Shukudai filming, and now his American friend would be watching the show today.
Aiba punched Jun in the arm. “Why didn't you tell us earlier? We could have gotten him on the show. We could have made a golden hour special and everything!”
“Nah, he was here for a movie premiere a few months back. He's just on holiday and wants to know the real Japan,” Jun explained. “I can't think of anything that would freak out an American more than this.” The others laughed, and Sho faked a grin.
The AD gave them a wave. They'd be starting up in a few moments. Jun excused himself to make sure Zac had made it to the studio, and Sho went over his notecards for their guest's introduction, trying to make himself look busy so nobody could see how nervous he was.
Not only did Jun pretty much loathe him now, but he'd invited Zac for the filming. Even if he didn't recognize Sho's voice from the stupid phone call, they'd bumped into each other in the street that one night. And for all he knew, Jun had probably already told Zac that he was the weirdo who'd taken the call in the first place. Shukudai filming was always quite relaxed and laid-back, depending on the guest, but their real guest tonight was going to be up in the booth watching.
Jun returned a few minutes later, chatting amiably with Inoue Mao, who was their guest for the evening. Sho imagined that having a friend around was keeping Jun's anger in check. There was an Aibaland segment that night, and Aiba was keeping mum on the details. There'd been a huge box labeled 'Cosplay' but other than that, Sho was oblivious. Well, if he had to wear a maid's costume again, so be it.
The filming started, and Sho had been doing this for enough years that personal problems never really interfered with his ability to get on with the program. They made it through the usual introductions, and since Jun sat two people over for much of the show's first half, they didn't have to interact anyhow. And Mao's food request for the evening was for super spicy curry, so Jun didn't really participate there either.
But of course, as filming continued, Sho could see Aiba's anxiousness grow as the time came closer to his segment. He exchanged a nervous look with Nino several times - if Aiba's segment was pointless enough, maybe it would be cut. But that didn't factor out Jun's friend watching from the booth. Jun had gone up during breaks in their filming to check on Zac, even bringing Ohno with him on the last one. It seemed that Jun was playing up the chance acquaintances thing rather than anything serious. Well, he was a fairly good actor after all.
Aiba got the audience revved up, introducing his segment. Ogura-san looked almost embarrassed as he tugged the cosplay box onto center stage. Aiba clapped excitedly, announcing the “Hana Yori Arashi Waltz Competition” and Sho felt his head begin to ache already. Great. Dancing.
Ogura-san opened the cosplay box as Aiba explained the rules. With Ogura-san as judge, Mao and the five members would split into three pairs and dance a waltz. Peering into the box, there were labeled costumes for all of them. “Oh thank god!” he shouted as he pulled out a tuxedo rather than an evening gown for himself. The audience clapped and squealed as Jun and Leader pulled out red dresses to match Mao.
“How is this Hana Yori Arashi if Matsumoto-kun and I don't dance together?” Mao teased Aiba, who was already giggling and playing with a cummerbund.
“It's just a name, Mao-chan,” Jun grumbled, poking at one of the sequins. The cameras cut for them to change and they all dragged themselves backstage. They all dressed quickly enough, and Sho was already getting sweaty palms. Waltzes were easy enough. One, two, three. Repeat ad infinitum. But Aiba tended to be a bit of a sadist when it came to his segments, sometimes putting even Jun to shame. It would be just like Aiba to match Sho up with Leader so they could tease him about embarrassing Ohno with his poor coordination.
They made it back to the set and the cameras started rolling again. There were quite a few noisy screams as Mao, Jun and Ohno came out in their red dresses. Sho tried to avoid looking. This was going to be crazy enough. Aiba was wearing a top hat and was still laughing quite a bit as Ogura-san encouraged him to hurry up. “Okay okay okay, looks like Nino will be partnering with Oh-chan!” The audience screamed. Sho shoved his hands in his pockets and focused on Mao, praying for Aiba to make the right call. “And since I am a huge fan of Mao-chan,” Aiba announced. “She's mine! All mine!”
“That's perverted,” Jun complained noisily, and everyone laughed. Sho felt lightheaded. Damn it.
Sho frowned. “He's going to step on my feet!”
“If he doesn't kick you first,” Nino said, earning more laughs from the audience and the others. He and Aiba stood together while Nino and Leader went first. Of course, Aiba had chosen some strange techno remix of the waltz from Sleeping Beauty, so not only did they have to dance properly, but they had to do so nearly three times as fast.
Ogura-san finally called Nino and Ohno's turn over once Nino knocked the pair of them into the back wall of the set. Jun was whispering with Mao, looking anywhere but across the floor. “We'll save Sho-san for last,” Aiba announced as he and Mao got ready. The ridiculous music started, and Aiba jokingly got a little too close to Mao for Jun's liking. The audience got a kick out of red dress Jun hurrying across the floor to pull the pair apart.
“Domyouji strikes again!” Nino shouted.
“Dance right or disqualification,” Ogura-san warned Aiba, who was readjusting his top hat.
“I want to win!” Mao protested, and Aiba obligingly danced like a proper gentleman with her. Well, as proper as could be expected at that speed. Finally, the moment arrived, and as the audience applauded Aiba and Mao, Sho met Jun's eyes across the stage.
“I want to win too,” was all Jun said as he approached. Nino and Ohno were making comments as Sho wiped his palms on his tuxedo pants and met Jun halfway. He just stared at the thin little straps of the dress.
“You look ridiculous,” Sho told him. Don't break character now. Jun merely rolled his eyes, ever the cool guy as he allowed Sho to place a shaking hand at his waist and grab his hand with the other.
“No hip-hop,” Ogura-san warned. Somewhere in the booth, Zac was watching. What the hell could the guy be thinking? There was no way he'd understood much of what had happened during filming so far and now his...Jun was in a dress and preparing to dance with the guy who'd pissed him off. Americans were rather impetuous, Sho thought. Maybe he'd storm out in a huff, all diva-like and hurry back to the States. Sho was embarrassed to realize how much that would please him.
Jun's hand was equally sweaty in his as Ogura-san prepared to order the music start. “Get closer! This is boring!” Aiba shouted.
The audience clapped, and Sho looked up to see Jun's eyes. They were dark, daring him to do so. They hadn't exchanged more than a sentence since the day before at the NTV studios. Arashi was all about performance, giving the audience what they wanted, whether there were American boys (or boyfriends?) waiting in the wings or not.
Sho made an annoyed sound as he pulled Jun closer, feeling his body heat even through the tuxedo. He blinked a few times. Sure, they were a close group, but he and Jun hadn't been all that touchy feely of late and now was even weirder. “Is this enough?” When this was broadcast, there would probably be little pop-up boxes left and right proclaiming his lack of athletic ability, lack of dance ability, lack of any life skills outside of newscasting abilities.
“Start the music already. This dress is itchy,” Jun lied. Well, Sho figured he was lying. The music started, and as Sho moved to pull Jun one way, Jun pulled the other way. “Just follow me,” Jun said, low enough that his mic wouldn't pick it up.
They put on quite the performance as the 'female' partner dragged Sho back and forth. The other members laughed hysterically and the audience encouraged it all the more. Jun was pulling him fast, very roughly, even rougher than he had to for it to be joking. Everyone would just write it off as the DoS being the DoS, even when in a dress. But Sho knew better. With every squeeze of their hands together and every glare as they turned briefly from the camera's view, Jun wasn't letting Sho forget what he'd done to betray their friendship.
Jun's foot came down hard on his. Thankfully he was wearing sandals with the dress instead of the stilettos Aiba had suggested during their costume changing. Knowing his own reputation on the set, Sho fell back dramatically, landing hard on his ass. The wood floor of the Shukudai stage was unpleasant, but it was better than having to endure another second of this. Everyone laughed at him as if they'd expected him to fall, but from the disappointed look in Jun's face, it was obvious that Jun saw right through his ploy.
As Nino helped Sho get back up, Ogura-san declared Aiba and Mao the winners. Jun's smile was back as he congratulated his friend. As if nothing awkward at all had just happened. Sho did the same, scratching his head and grinning from ear to ear for once again meeting everyone's expectations.
-----
After the AD announced "Cut!" and the filming ended, the green room was warm; they were all in a hurry to get themselves out of Aiba's ridiculous outfits, and Jun was smarting from Sho's laughable excuse to get out of their dance number. He ignored the older man, even when it was obvious that Sho was trying to catch his eye- it kept making him angry, every time he thought about the betrayal.
When he was sans-dress once more, he mumbled a barely coherent "bathroom" to the others and headed across the hall. He pushed open the bathroom door only to barely miss running smack into the figure trying to leave. Zac laughed, and pushed up his sleeves, fixing the fabric folds near his elbows.
"Sorry," he apologized, in Japanese.
"Did you enjoy the filming?" Jun asked, moving to the sink to wash his hands and throw some water on his face (it was always so much nicer to get the gunk off his face that they layered on whenever they went under the bright studio lights). He wrung his hands out over the sink, and wiped his face off on his shirt.
"Yes," Zac said, after a short moment in which Jun assumed he was trying to translate what had been said. "It was... interesting."
He said something else, in English, and Jun just cocked his head at him in confusion. After Jun turned, Zac started pantomiming a dance, with hands held out in curves like they were wrapped around another figure. From the way his feet moved, he knew how to waltz.
"Do stuff like that?" Zac asked, switching to broken Japanese again.
"Ah," Jun said, guessing at what the English had been. "Not always. But- yes, there's always something like that."
Zac just grinned, and some of the tension seemed to evaporate; Jun was glad. He'd been dealing with knots in his stomach since the blow-out in the hotel corridor the night before. It felt good to breathe without them working their way up through his chest to clog his lungs. There was a pause, and Jun finished drying his hands off, and Zac pointed at his shirt, drawing an imaginary line in the air.
"You- looked nice," he said, slowly.
"What?" Jun asked. It wasn't even that he was confused- though he was- it was just that he was a bit shocked to hear that come out of Zac's mouth. Zac moved his finger again, up and down in the air in front of him.
"In the dress," Zac said, an odd smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You looked nice in the dress."
"Oh," Jun said. He wet his lips, unsure when exactly they had gotten so dry. "Thanks."
Zac took a step forward, and suddenly the atmosphere was different; hard to read. Jun had missed completely when it had changed, when it had mutated- either he hadn't been paying attention, or it had happened so quickly. He raised a hand, near Jun's shoulder, near Jun's neck, and then his fingers were playing against the side, brushing against his skin, like a command. It was impossible not to obey, not to be sucked in- Jun leaned forward, meeting him halfway.
Zac's mouth was soft, and his touch was light. It was trying, testing- unsure. Jun swore he could taste the doubt and hesitation he was feeling himself in the pit of his stomach on the other man's mouth. It tasted like the fight from last night, like the screaming they'd done at each other. It was bitter, and Jun wanted nothing more than to make it disappear. He leaned in further, trying to erase the awkwardness, the space between them.
The hand that had been teasing his jawline moved to his neck, to tangle in the hair at the back, to pull him forward further- and Jun complied, because his own fingers were running over Zac's shoulders, brushing across the threads of his shirt.
"Jun," Zac breathed, against his mouth, like a hitch in the back of his throat. It wasn't a moan, wasn't a sigh- it was somewhere in between, lost in the friction between them. "This- we-"
"I know," Jun answered, moving his hands to the sides of Zac's head. He wasn't willing to part yet, he wasn't willing to give it up. He parted his lips to give access, to run his tongue in one lingering motion. Zac made the noise again, the hitch, the not-moan; though the second sounded considerably more like one. And then Jun realized that he might have been doing the same thing without knowing it.
Zac moved, free arm moving up to tangle in Jun's shirt at the waist. His fingertips slipped underneath the hem, skimming across Jun's stomach. His touch was electric, and Jun felt it everywhere; it no longer mattered that they were standing in front of the sinks in the bathroom, across from the green room. Even the fight was in the recesses of his mind, along with his doubts, his misgivings. He pulled in, to press their forms together, searching. He didn't know how much more he could get, but he craved it. He wanted it with every screaming nerve alight with sensation.
There was pressure against his shoulders, pushing him back, and his head hit the paper towel dispenser.
"Ow," he whispered, into Zac's mouth. The lips moving beneath his curved in a grin he could practically taste.
"Sorry," came the half-muffled response, in Japanese. Jun wanted to answer no you're not but couldn't quite pull himself away to form the words; the other man was doing something with his tongue that was rendering the majority of his brain functions completely useless, and he couldn't register much else. The hand that had been glancing across his stomach was moving up his side, across his ribs, and then back down, as if the owner couldn't make up his mind.
Then the pressure against his mouth was gone, moved to the skin between is ear and his jaw- he had to bite back his own moan and squeeze his eyes shut. If they kept this up, he wasn't going to be able to leave the bathroom for another ten minutes without complete humiliation- and stopping sounded like such a terrible idea. He bit his bottom lip, tugging at the hem of Zac's shirt.
"Wait," Zac said, pulling away and grabbing Jun's hands with his own. "Wait."
"Yeah," Jun agreed, both thankful and not that his partner had more restraint than he. "We can't do this here."
"Right," Zac replied. The American ran a hand through is hair, mussing up the tresses. He was out of breath, and flushed, and just looking at him made Jun realized he had to look a fright himself. He tried to straighten his clothing, his hair- he'd have to do something, at least, before going back in to face the others. Then he met Jun's gaze and laughed, a giddy, slightly forced laugh, and Jun had to join in; it was too insane.
"Okay?" Jun asked.
"Okay," Zac repeated, with a nod. He rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand, taking a deep breath, and Jun tried to steady his rapidly pounding heart. When he thought he looked at least decently presentable, he started for the door and motioned for Zac to follow.
The door pushed open a second before his fingers reached the handle.
"Oh," Sho said. There was a flicker of something, something unplaceable, and then his face was carefully blank. He stepped back, allowing them to exit first into the hall. "Sorry."
Jun didn't look at him again as they passed him by.
Chapter: 4/12
Fandom: Arashi
Character, Pairing(s): Matsumoto Jun/Zac Efron, Sho --> Jun
Rating: T
Warnings: Language, angst.
Summary: What had been a one-time thing has turned into ... not a one-time thing. And they aren't the only ones involved.
Eleven long hours later found Zac standing in the open terminals of the Narita airport with his carry-on clutched like a lifeline. He'd always thought that airports were fairly international- same structure, same general flow, and now, with the fast-speaking natives moving all around him, he no longer held that belief. It was like being dumped in the most unknown location he could think of without any way to understand what was going on around him.
He tried not to look like a tourist, but he had his Japanese-English dictionary in his hand to pull out every time he came across a sign he couldn't read (and looking up the kanji took a long time, even though the dictionary was separated into sections like 'travel' and 'airports'). He just needed to get to the baggage claim; eventually, following a few other people who looked like they had just arrived ended up getting him to the right location. He waited for his luggage to show up on the moving claim with knots of apprehension in his stomach.
Pulling out his cell phone, he tried to dial, only to have the screen inform him that his battery was dead before it turned completely off.
"Shit," he muttered, jamming the phone back into his pocket. A quick look around confirmed, thank goodness, that there was only one set of doors leading out of the international (he was pleased that he had picked up that much, at least) baggage claim, so there was really only one place Jun could be waiting for him to exit. When his bags finally made their way down the slowly moving conveyer, he grabbed them and made his way to the exit, where the setting sun was shining in through the windows.
He wasn't sure what to look for. Without his phone, he would have to be a bit more obvious- enough to catch his ride's attention, at least. There hadn't looked to be anyone within the baggage claim waiting for him (and he'd checked all the papers held up twice, just to be sure).
Every car that slowed near the doors, he craned to see- but not one stopped. After fifteen minutes, his nervousness was growing- had there been a problem? Had Jun been held up? There were a thousand things that could go wrong or be delayed, and each was solvable easily had he only remembered his phone charger. He didn't have Jun's number memorized to call from a pay phone, and mentally cursed himself for not writing it down outside of his mobile's address book. He stood again, seeing a black car that looked like it could have tinted windows (if stars in Japan were anything like stars in the States, it was a must to avoid being seen) and then, when it failed to stop, sat back down on his luggage again. His midsection was churning.
"Where are you?" he muttered, to himself, checking his watch again. It was synched to the airport clocks hanging from the ceiling, so he knew he'd gotten the conversion right. It was well past the time he'd arrived at the terminal; it was well past the time he'd imagine Jun would arrive to pick him up.
Zac turned, looking back towards the gates into baggage claim. It was going to get dark soon, and he had his dictionary and hotel reservations- if nothing else, he could at least get himself to his room. He was tired, and his head hurt, and the hundreds of people speaking quick, clipped Japanese around him was only making the entire situation that much worse. He needed to lie down- he needed to avoid getting worked up.
It was a little late for that, but Zac grabbed his belongings and headed back inside, making his way to one of the desks near the doors. He pulled out his dictionary when he got to the counter.
"Hi," he said, slowly, flipping through the pages. "I need- a cab."
The woman at the counter said something quickly, too quickly for Zac to pick up. He was too rattled to grasp what he normally would have caught.
"Again?" he tried, and she repeated it, slower.
"Where to?" she asked.
"Ah, Grant Hyatt Tokyo," he replied. She gave him a smile, and began typing something into the computer. A few moments later, she turned to him again.
"Do you have Japanese money?" she asked. He nodded. More typing, and then she picked up the phone to call. Trying to ignore his throbbing headache, Zac looked over to the doors once more, just in case Jun had come in trying to find him. There were a lot of figures moving around, but none were familiar- none were the face he was hoping to see. There was only so much he could do to rationalize away the awful crushing sensation in his chest. The disappointment was bitter in the back of his throat. The woman helping him put the phone down, and he turned back. "It will be here in ten minutes," she said.
"Thank you," he replied, listlessly, reaching for his bags once more. He went back out the doors to wait.
Seated on his luggage, in the flurry of activity around him, he began to think the entire trip had been a very, very poor decision.
--------
“Thanks for the hard work everyone!” he shouted as he walked away from the set for the day. He received several polite thank yous in return. Sho ran a hand through his hair, still stiff with hair spray from the long day of drama shooting. He yawned, going through the double doors of the soundstage and out into the NTV studio lobby.
He didn't expect to see Jun sitting in a chair thumbing through a magazine, waiting by the exit. Sho felt his stomach drop down to somewhere near his knees, best estimate. It was the day, wasn't it? The day his...friend was arriving. Outwardly, Jun looked calm, but Sho knew that when Jun was angry, truly angry, he was far more cutting and merciless. And he did it without even yelling.
Of course this was all bound to come back and bite him in the ass. Sho had been irritated with himself all week. He'd had every opportunity to confess to Jun about answering his phone, but he'd been too ashamed to admit it. And so each hour that he held the secret, his guilt increased. And as this day had approached, he'd been increasingly on edge. He'd screwed up his lines a few times that day, and no amount of apologizing would make up for wasting people's time and wasting the network's money.
All he'd wanted was to just come out and admit to Jun what he'd done, but now that Jun was here, right in front of him with nobody else there - Sho wanted to just run the other way. When did he get so ridiculous? He halted in front of Jun's chair.
“Hey.”
Jun didn't even look up from the magazine. “What time's the flight?”
Well, never let it be said that Matsumoto Jun wasn't one to get right to the point. He could feign surprise. He could tell Jun he didn't know what he was talking about, but he didn't need to be any more of a jerk about this. Sho watched people coming in and out of the TV station doors. He was grateful nobody else was paying attention. “5:00 PM I think. Around then.”
He watched Jun's hands freeze, then tighten around the magazine. “5:00 PM...on what day?”
Sho swallowed. “Today.”
Jun set the magazine down and stood. “It's already half past five. I have to go.” Sho stood aside and let the other man pass. He couldn't read Jun's expression, which only proved how angry he was.
“I'm sorry,” he said to Jun's retreating back, causing him to stop. “Let me...I can explain.” But could he?
Jun turned around. Sho had never seen this particular look directed at him. As if he wasn't even there. “We have nothing to say to each other.”
With that, Jun went out the doors, moving through the crowd of people on the street to hail a cab. All Sho could do was watch him go.
-------
Zac wasn't at the airport.
Jun hadn't bothered with a hat, or his glasses- he hadn't bothered with anything. His head was buzzing with barely suppressed rage, and no outlet for which to release it, and he just stood inside the doors at baggage claim, feeling like he'd swallowed his heart. He tried calling again, but he'd already dialed the number 8 times, and each time it had gone straight to voice mail- either Zac's phone was off, or he was being actively ignored.
He wanted to hit something. He wanted to hit something, he wanted to hit someone- it had taken all of his willpower to leave the studio Sho was filming at without burying his fist into the drywall. He'd had years of practice of keeping his cool, but never before had he had to use it on his bandmates; never before had he felt so betrayed, so terrible. And now his other world was falling apart, too, because he was standing in the Narita airport looking for someone who had obviously left, who wasn't taking his calls- and it wasn't even his fault.
He couldn't fathom why Sho had done that. In fact, he couldn't really think about it at all without feeling the rising ire all over again, jumbled up on top of everything else, choking him until he couldn't breathe anymore. He had to find Zac- he had to explain. He had to apologize. But if he couldn't get ahold of him through his cell phone, the only other thing he could do was-
Jun spun, heading back out the doors to the car still idling by the sidewalk, barking out the destination as soon as he climbed in. "Grand Hyatt Tokyo."
He couldn't keep his hands from shaking during the drive towards the hotel. He tried to calm himself down, but his nerves were on edge, alight, driving him crazy- he should have known something had happened. He should have known when he hadn't heard anything for days. But he never thought that someone would take a call on his phone without relaying the message...
The car stopped, and Jun was out the door before the tires had finished squealing, heading into the lobby.
The woman at the counter looked startled as he approached the desk.
"I need a room number," Jun said, without preamble, stumbling over the words. "I need the room number for Mike Jackson."
"I'm sorry, sir, we don't give out room numbers of guests," the receptionist said. Jun barely held back slamming his palms down on the marble, and only managed to stop by reminding himself that it wasn't her fault- none of it was, really.
"Then call up," he demanded. "Call up to the room. Please."
Either she knew who he was, and was complying because of it, or she sensed the agitation in his voice and assumed it was an emergency- he didn't care which it was. All that mattered was that she picked up the phone and pressed the buttons to call up to the room. He impatiently tapped his fingertips against the counter as he waited, heart pounding in his ears. No one in the lobby was paying attention to him; at least, he couldn't see anyone looking in his direction when he scanned the room quickly.
"May I ask your name?" the receptionist inquired, startling Jun from his reverie. It stumped him for a moment, because they hadn't planned on having one for him- it wasn't supposed to be like this.
"Tsukasa," he stammered, finally, too fast- it was too obvious he was lying, and he wasn't in the correct state to care. The receptionist repeated it into the phone, and Jun held his breath. The next moment felt like it lasted a lifetime.
"Very good," the woman said, replacing the phone receiver in the cradle. She leveled him an unreadable expression. "It's number 429. You can use the elevator through that hallway."
Jun was off with barely more than a mumbled "thank you". The elevator ride felt like it lasted forever. He couldn't tell what he was more nervous about- seeing Zac again, which was ridiculous in more ways than he really cared to go over, or the inevitable confrontation. Thinking about everything made his blood boil; he clenched his fists at his side, over and over, digging his fingernails into his palms.
The doors opened on floor 4, and he stepped into the hallway. When he reached room 429, it took a couple moments to get his hand to stop trembling enough to knock- he tried to come up with the English way to say what he needed, and came up far too blank. There was a long pause, and then the anticipated click of the handle moving.
"I'm sorry," he gushed, in English, as soon as the door opened. "I'm sorry, I-"
His mind struggled to find the words. Zac's face was hard, carefully neutral- he held the door open enough to talk, but no more; it was obvious that it wasn't an invitation to enter.
"I didn't-" he tried again, trailing off, because Zac started talking. It was fast, too fast to catch, too loud and rushed and increasing in tone as he continued. Jun could only pick up words, fragments, and the underlying emotion behind everything. "Cab", "there", "call", it was just snippets- he couldn't get it all. And then Zac was shouting, and pointing, and it just incessed him further, because he didn't deserve to be yelled at, if only he could explain that he hadn't meant to do anything wrong.
"It wasn't my fault!" he shouted in Japanese. "I didn't even get the message, I didn't know what time you were coming- Sho picked up my phone and didn't tell me, he was the one you talked to! He never relayed anything, I never knew. I didn't mean to leave you there, I swear, God, I swear I didn't-"
He didn't know how much Zac got; not much, by the still furious look on the American man's face. Zac leaned in, finger in Jun's face.
"How could you-" and then a garble that Jun couldn't latch onto- "for you, here" and more, more he couldn't pick up on. Zac was talking too fast, shouting too loud.
"I didn't mean to!" he tried yelling, over Zac's voice- it was a stupid tactic, because the other man already couldn't understand most of what he was saying. "It wasn't my fault, I didn't mean to, I didn't know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"
Zac stopped shouting very suddenly, looking slightly breathless and still angry. His hand dropped down to his side, and they just stood there for a long time, staring at each other. Jun didn't know what to say to make it better- if there was anything. The entire situation was a convoluted web around his shoulders, bearing down on him. His cell phone beeped in his pocket; a reminder from his calendar.
"Tomorrow," Jun tried, slower, in English. "You- come to filming."
"Why?" Zac spat.
"To watch," Jun said. He dug into his pockets to find a crumbled corner of paper. He couldn't think of anything else to do- it was all he could offer. "Arashi no Shukudai-kun."
Zac just looked warily at him as he scratched the address onto the paper with the almost-empty pen he found in the other side of his coat. At least he wasn't yelling anymore- but the door hadn't opened any further to allow Jun in.
This was not how he had imagined the first night going.
Once finished, he handed the ripped corner to Zac, who accepted it with trepidation.
"10 AM," he said, in English again. "Please."
There was a long pause, as Zac's eyes roved over the hastily scribbled note.
"Fine," he said, finally. "Yeah, fine."
"You'll come?"
"Yeah." Zac sighed, hand falling down to his side. He looked at the floor, at Jun's shoes, and then across the hall, to the room numbers on the wall. "I'm tired. Long day."
Jun swallowed hard. There were so many things he wanted to say, still more he wanted to explain, but he couldn't- he didn't know how. And the dismissal was easily read in Zac's tone. Jun couldn't tell if his stomach was dropping from disappointment, or the loss of adrenaline that had been fueling him, or a combination of both.
"Okay," he said. "Then- see you."
"Bye," Zac said, and the door clicked closed.
-----
“And you're sure he'll stay back? There's a hundred screaming girls in the audience, MatsuJun,” Nino remarked as they prepared for filming to start.
“He's just watching. He'll be up in the booth with the crew,” Ohno offered, trying to make peace as always. Jun had not met Sho's eyes since arriving for the Shukudai filming, and now his American friend would be watching the show today.
Aiba punched Jun in the arm. “Why didn't you tell us earlier? We could have gotten him on the show. We could have made a golden hour special and everything!”
“Nah, he was here for a movie premiere a few months back. He's just on holiday and wants to know the real Japan,” Jun explained. “I can't think of anything that would freak out an American more than this.” The others laughed, and Sho faked a grin.
The AD gave them a wave. They'd be starting up in a few moments. Jun excused himself to make sure Zac had made it to the studio, and Sho went over his notecards for their guest's introduction, trying to make himself look busy so nobody could see how nervous he was.
Not only did Jun pretty much loathe him now, but he'd invited Zac for the filming. Even if he didn't recognize Sho's voice from the stupid phone call, they'd bumped into each other in the street that one night. And for all he knew, Jun had probably already told Zac that he was the weirdo who'd taken the call in the first place. Shukudai filming was always quite relaxed and laid-back, depending on the guest, but their real guest tonight was going to be up in the booth watching.
Jun returned a few minutes later, chatting amiably with Inoue Mao, who was their guest for the evening. Sho imagined that having a friend around was keeping Jun's anger in check. There was an Aibaland segment that night, and Aiba was keeping mum on the details. There'd been a huge box labeled 'Cosplay' but other than that, Sho was oblivious. Well, if he had to wear a maid's costume again, so be it.
The filming started, and Sho had been doing this for enough years that personal problems never really interfered with his ability to get on with the program. They made it through the usual introductions, and since Jun sat two people over for much of the show's first half, they didn't have to interact anyhow. And Mao's food request for the evening was for super spicy curry, so Jun didn't really participate there either.
But of course, as filming continued, Sho could see Aiba's anxiousness grow as the time came closer to his segment. He exchanged a nervous look with Nino several times - if Aiba's segment was pointless enough, maybe it would be cut. But that didn't factor out Jun's friend watching from the booth. Jun had gone up during breaks in their filming to check on Zac, even bringing Ohno with him on the last one. It seemed that Jun was playing up the chance acquaintances thing rather than anything serious. Well, he was a fairly good actor after all.
Aiba got the audience revved up, introducing his segment. Ogura-san looked almost embarrassed as he tugged the cosplay box onto center stage. Aiba clapped excitedly, announcing the “Hana Yori Arashi Waltz Competition” and Sho felt his head begin to ache already. Great. Dancing.
Ogura-san opened the cosplay box as Aiba explained the rules. With Ogura-san as judge, Mao and the five members would split into three pairs and dance a waltz. Peering into the box, there were labeled costumes for all of them. “Oh thank god!” he shouted as he pulled out a tuxedo rather than an evening gown for himself. The audience clapped and squealed as Jun and Leader pulled out red dresses to match Mao.
“How is this Hana Yori Arashi if Matsumoto-kun and I don't dance together?” Mao teased Aiba, who was already giggling and playing with a cummerbund.
“It's just a name, Mao-chan,” Jun grumbled, poking at one of the sequins. The cameras cut for them to change and they all dragged themselves backstage. They all dressed quickly enough, and Sho was already getting sweaty palms. Waltzes were easy enough. One, two, three. Repeat ad infinitum. But Aiba tended to be a bit of a sadist when it came to his segments, sometimes putting even Jun to shame. It would be just like Aiba to match Sho up with Leader so they could tease him about embarrassing Ohno with his poor coordination.
They made it back to the set and the cameras started rolling again. There were quite a few noisy screams as Mao, Jun and Ohno came out in their red dresses. Sho tried to avoid looking. This was going to be crazy enough. Aiba was wearing a top hat and was still laughing quite a bit as Ogura-san encouraged him to hurry up. “Okay okay okay, looks like Nino will be partnering with Oh-chan!” The audience screamed. Sho shoved his hands in his pockets and focused on Mao, praying for Aiba to make the right call. “And since I am a huge fan of Mao-chan,” Aiba announced. “She's mine! All mine!”
“That's perverted,” Jun complained noisily, and everyone laughed. Sho felt lightheaded. Damn it.
Sho frowned. “He's going to step on my feet!”
“If he doesn't kick you first,” Nino said, earning more laughs from the audience and the others. He and Aiba stood together while Nino and Leader went first. Of course, Aiba had chosen some strange techno remix of the waltz from Sleeping Beauty, so not only did they have to dance properly, but they had to do so nearly three times as fast.
Ogura-san finally called Nino and Ohno's turn over once Nino knocked the pair of them into the back wall of the set. Jun was whispering with Mao, looking anywhere but across the floor. “We'll save Sho-san for last,” Aiba announced as he and Mao got ready. The ridiculous music started, and Aiba jokingly got a little too close to Mao for Jun's liking. The audience got a kick out of red dress Jun hurrying across the floor to pull the pair apart.
“Domyouji strikes again!” Nino shouted.
“Dance right or disqualification,” Ogura-san warned Aiba, who was readjusting his top hat.
“I want to win!” Mao protested, and Aiba obligingly danced like a proper gentleman with her. Well, as proper as could be expected at that speed. Finally, the moment arrived, and as the audience applauded Aiba and Mao, Sho met Jun's eyes across the stage.
“I want to win too,” was all Jun said as he approached. Nino and Ohno were making comments as Sho wiped his palms on his tuxedo pants and met Jun halfway. He just stared at the thin little straps of the dress.
“You look ridiculous,” Sho told him. Don't break character now. Jun merely rolled his eyes, ever the cool guy as he allowed Sho to place a shaking hand at his waist and grab his hand with the other.
“No hip-hop,” Ogura-san warned. Somewhere in the booth, Zac was watching. What the hell could the guy be thinking? There was no way he'd understood much of what had happened during filming so far and now his...Jun was in a dress and preparing to dance with the guy who'd pissed him off. Americans were rather impetuous, Sho thought. Maybe he'd storm out in a huff, all diva-like and hurry back to the States. Sho was embarrassed to realize how much that would please him.
Jun's hand was equally sweaty in his as Ogura-san prepared to order the music start. “Get closer! This is boring!” Aiba shouted.
The audience clapped, and Sho looked up to see Jun's eyes. They were dark, daring him to do so. They hadn't exchanged more than a sentence since the day before at the NTV studios. Arashi was all about performance, giving the audience what they wanted, whether there were American boys (or boyfriends?) waiting in the wings or not.
Sho made an annoyed sound as he pulled Jun closer, feeling his body heat even through the tuxedo. He blinked a few times. Sure, they were a close group, but he and Jun hadn't been all that touchy feely of late and now was even weirder. “Is this enough?” When this was broadcast, there would probably be little pop-up boxes left and right proclaiming his lack of athletic ability, lack of dance ability, lack of any life skills outside of newscasting abilities.
“Start the music already. This dress is itchy,” Jun lied. Well, Sho figured he was lying. The music started, and as Sho moved to pull Jun one way, Jun pulled the other way. “Just follow me,” Jun said, low enough that his mic wouldn't pick it up.
They put on quite the performance as the 'female' partner dragged Sho back and forth. The other members laughed hysterically and the audience encouraged it all the more. Jun was pulling him fast, very roughly, even rougher than he had to for it to be joking. Everyone would just write it off as the DoS being the DoS, even when in a dress. But Sho knew better. With every squeeze of their hands together and every glare as they turned briefly from the camera's view, Jun wasn't letting Sho forget what he'd done to betray their friendship.
Jun's foot came down hard on his. Thankfully he was wearing sandals with the dress instead of the stilettos Aiba had suggested during their costume changing. Knowing his own reputation on the set, Sho fell back dramatically, landing hard on his ass. The wood floor of the Shukudai stage was unpleasant, but it was better than having to endure another second of this. Everyone laughed at him as if they'd expected him to fall, but from the disappointed look in Jun's face, it was obvious that Jun saw right through his ploy.
As Nino helped Sho get back up, Ogura-san declared Aiba and Mao the winners. Jun's smile was back as he congratulated his friend. As if nothing awkward at all had just happened. Sho did the same, scratching his head and grinning from ear to ear for once again meeting everyone's expectations.
-----
After the AD announced "Cut!" and the filming ended, the green room was warm; they were all in a hurry to get themselves out of Aiba's ridiculous outfits, and Jun was smarting from Sho's laughable excuse to get out of their dance number. He ignored the older man, even when it was obvious that Sho was trying to catch his eye- it kept making him angry, every time he thought about the betrayal.
When he was sans-dress once more, he mumbled a barely coherent "bathroom" to the others and headed across the hall. He pushed open the bathroom door only to barely miss running smack into the figure trying to leave. Zac laughed, and pushed up his sleeves, fixing the fabric folds near his elbows.
"Sorry," he apologized, in Japanese.
"Did you enjoy the filming?" Jun asked, moving to the sink to wash his hands and throw some water on his face (it was always so much nicer to get the gunk off his face that they layered on whenever they went under the bright studio lights). He wrung his hands out over the sink, and wiped his face off on his shirt.
"Yes," Zac said, after a short moment in which Jun assumed he was trying to translate what had been said. "It was... interesting."
He said something else, in English, and Jun just cocked his head at him in confusion. After Jun turned, Zac started pantomiming a dance, with hands held out in curves like they were wrapped around another figure. From the way his feet moved, he knew how to waltz.
"Do stuff like that?" Zac asked, switching to broken Japanese again.
"Ah," Jun said, guessing at what the English had been. "Not always. But- yes, there's always something like that."
Zac just grinned, and some of the tension seemed to evaporate; Jun was glad. He'd been dealing with knots in his stomach since the blow-out in the hotel corridor the night before. It felt good to breathe without them working their way up through his chest to clog his lungs. There was a pause, and Jun finished drying his hands off, and Zac pointed at his shirt, drawing an imaginary line in the air.
"You- looked nice," he said, slowly.
"What?" Jun asked. It wasn't even that he was confused- though he was- it was just that he was a bit shocked to hear that come out of Zac's mouth. Zac moved his finger again, up and down in the air in front of him.
"In the dress," Zac said, an odd smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You looked nice in the dress."
"Oh," Jun said. He wet his lips, unsure when exactly they had gotten so dry. "Thanks."
Zac took a step forward, and suddenly the atmosphere was different; hard to read. Jun had missed completely when it had changed, when it had mutated- either he hadn't been paying attention, or it had happened so quickly. He raised a hand, near Jun's shoulder, near Jun's neck, and then his fingers were playing against the side, brushing against his skin, like a command. It was impossible not to obey, not to be sucked in- Jun leaned forward, meeting him halfway.
Zac's mouth was soft, and his touch was light. It was trying, testing- unsure. Jun swore he could taste the doubt and hesitation he was feeling himself in the pit of his stomach on the other man's mouth. It tasted like the fight from last night, like the screaming they'd done at each other. It was bitter, and Jun wanted nothing more than to make it disappear. He leaned in further, trying to erase the awkwardness, the space between them.
The hand that had been teasing his jawline moved to his neck, to tangle in the hair at the back, to pull him forward further- and Jun complied, because his own fingers were running over Zac's shoulders, brushing across the threads of his shirt.
"Jun," Zac breathed, against his mouth, like a hitch in the back of his throat. It wasn't a moan, wasn't a sigh- it was somewhere in between, lost in the friction between them. "This- we-"
"I know," Jun answered, moving his hands to the sides of Zac's head. He wasn't willing to part yet, he wasn't willing to give it up. He parted his lips to give access, to run his tongue in one lingering motion. Zac made the noise again, the hitch, the not-moan; though the second sounded considerably more like one. And then Jun realized that he might have been doing the same thing without knowing it.
Zac moved, free arm moving up to tangle in Jun's shirt at the waist. His fingertips slipped underneath the hem, skimming across Jun's stomach. His touch was electric, and Jun felt it everywhere; it no longer mattered that they were standing in front of the sinks in the bathroom, across from the green room. Even the fight was in the recesses of his mind, along with his doubts, his misgivings. He pulled in, to press their forms together, searching. He didn't know how much more he could get, but he craved it. He wanted it with every screaming nerve alight with sensation.
There was pressure against his shoulders, pushing him back, and his head hit the paper towel dispenser.
"Ow," he whispered, into Zac's mouth. The lips moving beneath his curved in a grin he could practically taste.
"Sorry," came the half-muffled response, in Japanese. Jun wanted to answer no you're not but couldn't quite pull himself away to form the words; the other man was doing something with his tongue that was rendering the majority of his brain functions completely useless, and he couldn't register much else. The hand that had been glancing across his stomach was moving up his side, across his ribs, and then back down, as if the owner couldn't make up his mind.
Then the pressure against his mouth was gone, moved to the skin between is ear and his jaw- he had to bite back his own moan and squeeze his eyes shut. If they kept this up, he wasn't going to be able to leave the bathroom for another ten minutes without complete humiliation- and stopping sounded like such a terrible idea. He bit his bottom lip, tugging at the hem of Zac's shirt.
"Wait," Zac said, pulling away and grabbing Jun's hands with his own. "Wait."
"Yeah," Jun agreed, both thankful and not that his partner had more restraint than he. "We can't do this here."
"Right," Zac replied. The American ran a hand through is hair, mussing up the tresses. He was out of breath, and flushed, and just looking at him made Jun realized he had to look a fright himself. He tried to straighten his clothing, his hair- he'd have to do something, at least, before going back in to face the others. Then he met Jun's gaze and laughed, a giddy, slightly forced laugh, and Jun had to join in; it was too insane.
"Okay?" Jun asked.
"Okay," Zac repeated, with a nod. He rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand, taking a deep breath, and Jun tried to steady his rapidly pounding heart. When he thought he looked at least decently presentable, he started for the door and motioned for Zac to follow.
The door pushed open a second before his fingers reached the handle.
"Oh," Sho said. There was a flicker of something, something unplaceable, and then his face was carefully blank. He stepped back, allowing them to exit first into the hall. "Sorry."
Jun didn't look at him again as they passed him by.