Gift Fic For silver_crystall
To: silver_crystall
From: santa_johnny
Title: you’re a criminal for stealing my heart
Pairing/Group: Arashi; Sakurai Sho/ Aiba Masaki; hints of other Arashi pairings
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Rating for language and mentions of sex.
Notes: For silver_crystall for the JE Hols Fic Exchange 2014
Summary: It was just another heist, just another night of playing with life and death, just another night of mixed sighs and alcohol-filled veins and burning kisses down your spine.
Sho wonders how many times he’s ended up running for his life.
Too many, he decides as he curses silently when he almost knocked over a pile of empty boxes. The abandoned warehouse was dark and damp, apparently the right (and also cliche to the point of making things too easy for them to find) environment to either meet in secret for illegal drug deals or cook up biohazardous weapons of mass destruction.
For today’s case, it seemed like the latter. He passed several metal drums with warnings stamped all over them, screaming at him in Russian about their definitely illegal toxicity levels. Probably the illegal shipments about the bomb threat an international terrorist group has been threatening Japan with that was assigned to his team that they have been stalking for a month now, but amazingly this wasn’t at the top of his priorities.
“Are you really sure about that meter reading?” Sho murmured to the concealed mouthpiece on the collar of his uniform, a sleek black military-grade jumpsuit custom-made to his specifications. He heard a dry chuckle from his ear. “Of course I am, I’m a genius. Hurry up Sho-san, take samples for evidence and get out of there,” Nino said. “There’s a boss level in Mario tatI really want to beat by tonight, so would you mind going a little faster please?”
“What, and risk the whole place blowing up on my face? I’m just taking pictures,” Sho said, taking out the spy camera that Nino had handed to him before he entered the building.
“Oh hey, that rhymed,” came another voice, slow and thick with sleep.
“And now he speaks,” Sho grunted out, crouching down behind a mountain of wooden crates as he tried to find a nice angle to take a shot. “How many hours was it this time, Ohno-san?”
“Fourteen,” Nino said, his grumpy tone evident even through the speakers. “He drooled on my suit! You have to pay for this, sleepyhead.”
“Okay,” Ohno replied, his sentence punctuated by a huge yawn.
“Your breath smells like fish!” Ninomiya complained. There was a scuffle and a large crash, Sho wincing at the loud sound that was probably Nino pushing Ohno and Ohno falling over. They’ve always been the type of friends to bicker aimlessly, so Sho wasn’t that worried.
No, Sho was more worried about the fact that he was surrounded by dangerous chemicals in a building further surrounded with goons with arm muscles as wide as his body, and the only thing he has heard from his partner for the past half hour was radio silence when he was supposed to be helping him take the evidence.
Where the hell is Masaki, anyway? Sho thought to himself, biting his lip.
“Will you guys be quiet and stop fighting?! I’m trying to concentrate here!” a new voice joined in the fray. Unconsciously, Sho’s back straightened at the sound of Jun’s voice. Though technically Ohno is the leader of their little band of criminals, Jun was more of the “ordering people around to do his bidding” person.
(Ohno, in one of his drunken fits when they successfully their first big heist, had sobbed on Sho’s shoulder and declared that they were “going to take the world by storm!” before throwing up on Sho’s lap. It wasn’t pretty, in all senses of the word. Since then, the name kind of stuck, and they call themselves Arashi. They have a spotlight of the kanji that they wave around from helicopters when they feel like it. Totally classy. Whatever, Batman.)
“Sho-san, stick to the plan and get the smallest crate you can find,” Jun’s voice said rapidly into his ear. “We need concrete evidence if we want this to work.”
“Why the hell are we working for Prime Minister KItagawa anyway?” Nino grumbled as he tapped away on a keyboard, probably hacking through the building’s system so he can watch Sho’s surroundings with the security cameras. “I don’t understand why he’s hired a bunch of criminals he’s supposed to be chasing. And I don’t like things I don’t understand.”
“Control freak much?” Jun said.
Nino let out a short laugh. “Look who’s talking! Ohmygod stop flirting with me!” he said.
“Still no sign from Aibacchi?” Ohno asked, stopping the brewing quarrel (or sexual tension--Sho wasn’t really sure what to call whatever Nino and Jun had anymore).
Sho shook his head, refraining from talking and trusting that Nino had his visual on one of the security cameras. He concentrated on a metal box that he had nearly knocked over, tentatively toeing it with the tip of his shoe. Just then, Sho heard a crackle as a voice behind him said “Sho-chan!”
Sho turned, his face brightening when he saw who it was.
“Masaki,” Sho said, the relief evident in his voice. He hit Aiba on the arm and hugged him fiercely.
“I’m fine, Sho-chan,” Aiba said, patting Sho on the shoulder. They broke apart (reluctantly, but they were on a mission, and the other three won’t
“That’s the one we’re looking for,” Aiba said, pointing at the box Sho was inspecting earlier.
“Really?” Sho said. “What about all these crates?”
Aiba shook his head. “Dummies. The guy outside told me before I… er, helped him go to sleep.”
Sho laughed. “My crazy scientist,” he said, fondly looking over at Aiba. “Those cocktails really do their job.”
Aiba grinned. “Told you! I’m good at doing things,” he said, winking at Sho and making him blush.
There was a strange choking sound that came through their earphones.
“We’re still here,” Ohno announced.
“Can’t you at least wait until you two are alone?! I did not need to hear that!” Nino complained.
Aiba shrugged. “Sorry!” Aiba said. “Danger kind of turns the both of us on.”
“Just… just get the hell out of there,” Jun said in a strangled voice. “And be careful.”
Sho had picked up the box and carried it in his arms, letting Aiba walk in front of him. He sought out a security and gave it a thumbs up before returning Aiba’s earlier smirk.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” Sho said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “When have we ever been careful?”
They met in the most normal and dramatic of ways. He was a lawyer who lost his firm and a recently fired private tutor, and had stupidly concluded to spend his last yen on booze before hanging himself by the sleeves of his stupid gray parka on the roofbeams of his apartment. He stumbled into a new bar, and there he was mixing drinks behind the bar looking hot as can be in his suit and his bowtie and sleeves rolled up to his elbows and he congratulated whatever part of his brain decided to get himself shit-faced on what was supposed to be the last night of his life.
“What’s your name?” was the first thing he had asked. Before a drink, before he could mix his infamous cocktails, before anything else, Sho had looked into those eyes and that smile and he was gone.
The bartender had extended his hand to him, a smile on his face as he tilted his head and considered Sho, raking Sho with a gaze that was strangely intimate. “Aiba Masaki,” he said, looking around before lowering his voice and leaning forward to whisper into his ear. In proximity, his voice was huskier, a hint of something dangerous and mysterious.
“Want to wreak havoc in this world with me?”
Sho was speechless.
Show was never speechless.
Sho had nodded his head, and Aiba had smiled, popping a cherry into his mouth as he smirked at Sho before turning to serve a drink to another customer.
A fucking cherry.
He had tried to pick the bartender up (which surprised him, because all the relationships he’d had before then had all been with women). But what surprised him more was how he found himself being bundled up into a taxi, whisked all the way to an obviously luxurious penthouse apartment that he couldn’t even think to imagine he could afford, even when he had his law practice. As soon as the door closed, it was a dance of flying pants and the undulating through the air of the black strip of the bowtie, exposing necks and Adam’s apples and the birthmark on the bartender’s shoulder, and the smooth slopes of his shoulders and planes of his stomach he was thankful he had kept maintaining, if only for this.
If only forever for this, then he would be glad to get drunk every single day. For those smiles as Aiba marked his skin with his heady scent.
Scotch and cherries and rum and vanilla and lemon and all the colors of the rainbow. If color had a scent, he invented it.
If life didn’t have meaning, he gave it a reason.
It was just another heist, just another night of playing with life and death, just another night of mixed sighs and alcohol-filled veins and burning kisses down your spine. It was another shared night in their shared life of crime and corruption and finding the only things that were right in the company of their friends and the solace of each other’s arms. Just another night with adrenaline pumping through their veins, another night not giving a damn in what tomorrow would bring.
Just another night of stealing each other’s breath away.
Just another night of being criminals by stealing each other’s hearts.
From: santa_johnny
Title: you’re a criminal for stealing my heart
Pairing/Group: Arashi; Sakurai Sho/ Aiba Masaki; hints of other Arashi pairings
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Rating for language and mentions of sex.
Notes: For silver_crystall for the JE Hols Fic Exchange 2014
Summary: It was just another heist, just another night of playing with life and death, just another night of mixed sighs and alcohol-filled veins and burning kisses down your spine.
Sho wonders how many times he’s ended up running for his life.
Too many, he decides as he curses silently when he almost knocked over a pile of empty boxes. The abandoned warehouse was dark and damp, apparently the right (and also cliche to the point of making things too easy for them to find) environment to either meet in secret for illegal drug deals or cook up biohazardous weapons of mass destruction.
For today’s case, it seemed like the latter. He passed several metal drums with warnings stamped all over them, screaming at him in Russian about their definitely illegal toxicity levels. Probably the illegal shipments about the bomb threat an international terrorist group has been threatening Japan with that was assigned to his team that they have been stalking for a month now, but amazingly this wasn’t at the top of his priorities.
“Are you really sure about that meter reading?” Sho murmured to the concealed mouthpiece on the collar of his uniform, a sleek black military-grade jumpsuit custom-made to his specifications. He heard a dry chuckle from his ear. “Of course I am, I’m a genius. Hurry up Sho-san, take samples for evidence and get out of there,” Nino said. “There’s a boss level in Mario tatI really want to beat by tonight, so would you mind going a little faster please?”
“What, and risk the whole place blowing up on my face? I’m just taking pictures,” Sho said, taking out the spy camera that Nino had handed to him before he entered the building.
“Oh hey, that rhymed,” came another voice, slow and thick with sleep.
“And now he speaks,” Sho grunted out, crouching down behind a mountain of wooden crates as he tried to find a nice angle to take a shot. “How many hours was it this time, Ohno-san?”
“Fourteen,” Nino said, his grumpy tone evident even through the speakers. “He drooled on my suit! You have to pay for this, sleepyhead.”
“Okay,” Ohno replied, his sentence punctuated by a huge yawn.
“Your breath smells like fish!” Ninomiya complained. There was a scuffle and a large crash, Sho wincing at the loud sound that was probably Nino pushing Ohno and Ohno falling over. They’ve always been the type of friends to bicker aimlessly, so Sho wasn’t that worried.
No, Sho was more worried about the fact that he was surrounded by dangerous chemicals in a building further surrounded with goons with arm muscles as wide as his body, and the only thing he has heard from his partner for the past half hour was radio silence when he was supposed to be helping him take the evidence.
Where the hell is Masaki, anyway? Sho thought to himself, biting his lip.
“Will you guys be quiet and stop fighting?! I’m trying to concentrate here!” a new voice joined in the fray. Unconsciously, Sho’s back straightened at the sound of Jun’s voice. Though technically Ohno is the leader of their little band of criminals, Jun was more of the “ordering people around to do his bidding” person.
(Ohno, in one of his drunken fits when they successfully their first big heist, had sobbed on Sho’s shoulder and declared that they were “going to take the world by storm!” before throwing up on Sho’s lap. It wasn’t pretty, in all senses of the word. Since then, the name kind of stuck, and they call themselves Arashi. They have a spotlight of the kanji that they wave around from helicopters when they feel like it. Totally classy. Whatever, Batman.)
“Sho-san, stick to the plan and get the smallest crate you can find,” Jun’s voice said rapidly into his ear. “We need concrete evidence if we want this to work.”
“Why the hell are we working for Prime Minister KItagawa anyway?” Nino grumbled as he tapped away on a keyboard, probably hacking through the building’s system so he can watch Sho’s surroundings with the security cameras. “I don’t understand why he’s hired a bunch of criminals he’s supposed to be chasing. And I don’t like things I don’t understand.”
“Control freak much?” Jun said.
Nino let out a short laugh. “Look who’s talking! Ohmygod stop flirting with me!” he said.
“Still no sign from Aibacchi?” Ohno asked, stopping the brewing quarrel (or sexual tension--Sho wasn’t really sure what to call whatever Nino and Jun had anymore).
Sho shook his head, refraining from talking and trusting that Nino had his visual on one of the security cameras. He concentrated on a metal box that he had nearly knocked over, tentatively toeing it with the tip of his shoe. Just then, Sho heard a crackle as a voice behind him said “Sho-chan!”
Sho turned, his face brightening when he saw who it was.
“Masaki,” Sho said, the relief evident in his voice. He hit Aiba on the arm and hugged him fiercely.
“I’m fine, Sho-chan,” Aiba said, patting Sho on the shoulder. They broke apart (reluctantly, but they were on a mission, and the other three won’t
“That’s the one we’re looking for,” Aiba said, pointing at the box Sho was inspecting earlier.
“Really?” Sho said. “What about all these crates?”
Aiba shook his head. “Dummies. The guy outside told me before I… er, helped him go to sleep.”
Sho laughed. “My crazy scientist,” he said, fondly looking over at Aiba. “Those cocktails really do their job.”
Aiba grinned. “Told you! I’m good at doing things,” he said, winking at Sho and making him blush.
There was a strange choking sound that came through their earphones.
“We’re still here,” Ohno announced.
“Can’t you at least wait until you two are alone?! I did not need to hear that!” Nino complained.
Aiba shrugged. “Sorry!” Aiba said. “Danger kind of turns the both of us on.”
“Just… just get the hell out of there,” Jun said in a strangled voice. “And be careful.”
Sho had picked up the box and carried it in his arms, letting Aiba walk in front of him. He sought out a security and gave it a thumbs up before returning Aiba’s earlier smirk.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” Sho said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “When have we ever been careful?”
They met in the most normal and dramatic of ways. He was a lawyer who lost his firm and a recently fired private tutor, and had stupidly concluded to spend his last yen on booze before hanging himself by the sleeves of his stupid gray parka on the roofbeams of his apartment. He stumbled into a new bar, and there he was mixing drinks behind the bar looking hot as can be in his suit and his bowtie and sleeves rolled up to his elbows and he congratulated whatever part of his brain decided to get himself shit-faced on what was supposed to be the last night of his life.
“What’s your name?” was the first thing he had asked. Before a drink, before he could mix his infamous cocktails, before anything else, Sho had looked into those eyes and that smile and he was gone.
The bartender had extended his hand to him, a smile on his face as he tilted his head and considered Sho, raking Sho with a gaze that was strangely intimate. “Aiba Masaki,” he said, looking around before lowering his voice and leaning forward to whisper into his ear. In proximity, his voice was huskier, a hint of something dangerous and mysterious.
“Want to wreak havoc in this world with me?”
Sho was speechless.
Show was never speechless.
Sho had nodded his head, and Aiba had smiled, popping a cherry into his mouth as he smirked at Sho before turning to serve a drink to another customer.
A fucking cherry.
He had tried to pick the bartender up (which surprised him, because all the relationships he’d had before then had all been with women). But what surprised him more was how he found himself being bundled up into a taxi, whisked all the way to an obviously luxurious penthouse apartment that he couldn’t even think to imagine he could afford, even when he had his law practice. As soon as the door closed, it was a dance of flying pants and the undulating through the air of the black strip of the bowtie, exposing necks and Adam’s apples and the birthmark on the bartender’s shoulder, and the smooth slopes of his shoulders and planes of his stomach he was thankful he had kept maintaining, if only for this.
If only forever for this, then he would be glad to get drunk every single day. For those smiles as Aiba marked his skin with his heady scent.
Scotch and cherries and rum and vanilla and lemon and all the colors of the rainbow. If color had a scent, he invented it.
If life didn’t have meaning, he gave it a reason.
It was just another heist, just another night of playing with life and death, just another night of mixed sighs and alcohol-filled veins and burning kisses down your spine. It was another shared night in their shared life of crime and corruption and finding the only things that were right in the company of their friends and the solace of each other’s arms. Just another night with adrenaline pumping through their veins, another night not giving a damn in what tomorrow would bring.
Just another night of stealing each other’s breath away.
Just another night of being criminals by stealing each other’s hearts.