[Oneshot] Special Delivery
Title: Special Delivery
Genre: AU, Fluff
Pairing: Junnosuke Taguchi/Masuda Takahisa
Rating: G
Summary: Junno is a bike messenger in Tokyo, and with his job comes certain hazards. The results of these hazards may not always be bad, though...
Notes: Written for a comment fic challenge (same one that spawned Bon Voyage) here over the weekend. The prompt was Junnosuke Taguchi x Masuda Takahisa = Let it Be [SMAP]. The inspiration for the fic was drawn from the video. Once again, dedicated to nanyakanya, because her love for Massu is pure. Also, she is awesome and knows her puns. ♥
Being a bike messenger in Tokyo is, Junno thinks, a very underappreciated job. Navigating the mid-morning or after lunch crowds, often while carrying breakable cargo from here to there on a tight schedule, is even harder than it sounds. He works long hours, often when the heat or the cold have other people hurrying from one place to another or sticking to their nice, climate controlled apartments and houses, and most of the time he does this for a commission that doesn’t amount to five percent of what his boss is making from the deliveries.
The job does, however, pay for his bike up keep and repairs, and a nice, heavy winter jacket, so he doesn’t see any point in complaining. Especially when, all-in-all, he loves his job and the freedom it allows him. It keeps him out of a badly lit cubicle and stuffy suits and for now that’s enough.
He's in the middle of a delivery and particularly in love with his job, enjoying the crisp autum air on his cheeks as he winds his way through a series of side streets on his way to an office building that he’s delivered to before, when a man suddenly steps out of nowhere and right into his path.
It is in this instant that Junno thinks that he loves his job, but not some of the hazards that come with it.
He swerves to the side on reflex, catching a glimpse of the wide-eyed, shocked look on the man’s face before he skids past him and into the side of a nearby building, the collision leaving him sprawled out in a graceless heap of tires and limbs, staring up at a bright yellow sign that reads Tokyo’s Best Ramen! overhead.
There are footsteps and a worried sound, and then the stranger is leaning over him, his face round and concerned. “I’m so sorry! I should have been paying more attention-are you alright?”
Junno blinks, a little dazed as the man reaches down to help him sit up, still babbling apologies as he starts to dust off Junno’s jacket and checks him over for injuries.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” The man’s voice is genuinely worried and Junno looks at him a bit stupidly as he tries to decide. He doesn’t feel that injured, really.
“I… no, I don’t think so.”
The stranger frowns and reaches up, pushing Junno’s hair out of his eyes with a worried look. He ‘tsks’ softly and digs some sort of wipe out of his pocket, ripping the packet open to dab at Junno’s forehead gently.
It burns slightly and Junno fliches away from it, the stranger giving him an apologetic look.
“Sorry... the alcohol stings a bit sometimes. I just thought we should get it cleaned up.” The man’s voice is deep, much deeper than belongs with such a round, youthful face. Junno blinks and smiles a little at the thought, an expression the other returns.
“It’s okay,” Junno assures him, only flinching a little when the other starts to dab at his forehead again. He must be cut, but he can’t really feel it. “Is it bad?”
“No… it looked like there was more blood than there was,” the man answers, folding the used wipe up and tucking it inside its wrapper neatly.
Junno nods, willing to trust the other’s judgment as he glances down at his coat. There’s a small tear in one of the pockets and it’s black along one arm where he skidded across the sidewalk, but nothing that a thorough washing and a needle and thread won’t fix. For once he’s actually glad his boss insists on white uniforms-as impractical as they seem it makes them easier to wash. He’s started keeping a ready supply of bleach at home since he started this job.
“What about you? Are you alright?” He asks, suddenly realizing that he hasn’t bothered up to this point, and feeling more than a little rude for doing so.
“I’m fine. Just glad you’re alright,” the man answers with a smile that is so genuine Junno can’t help but return it.
“I’m fine. Just a little tired,” Junno cracks and is pleasantly surprised to hear the other’s deep, breathy laughter. He joins in, his own laughter high pitched and his smile showing far too many teeth, but the stranger doesn’t seem to mind at all.
“Good to hear.” The other man grins, his eyes lighting up with it.
“People don’t usually laugh at my jokes,” Junno admits, pleased with himself and far too happy, despite the dirt on his jacket and the fact that his bike is still laying on its side on the sidewalk and he’s no doubt scratched the paint again, a fact which won’t escape his boss’s notice. It’s this thought that makes him remember that he’s here because of work, work that involves a very strict time schedule and an often less than forgiving boss.
“Oh no-I have to go!” He stands suddenly, his eyes wide and voice flustered as he goes to inspect his bike, checking the satchel slung across his seat, glad for once that he was only carrying documents and not something breakable.
“Are you sure?” The other man is watching him, his brows furrowed and face a little confused. He keeps staring, watching as Junno lifts his bike and checks it over quickly for damage. “I don’t know if you should ride again so soon.”
“No, it’s okay,” Junno assures him as he stands, relieved to see that his bike is still in working order. It looks a little worse for the wear, but he can deal with that as long as it can get him to where he’s going. “I have to go. I’m supposed to deliver these by three.”
The stranger frowns a little and glances at his watch, then back up at Junno, and nods as if this makes perfect sense. Junno slings one long leg over the bike, checking that the satchel is secure before he leaves. He’s about to take off again when the other man steps forward and places a hand on his arm. “What’s your name?”
“Junno,” he answers automatically, then smiles sheepishly and blushes at his own informality. “Junnosuke Taguchi.”
The man nods, mouths his name silently and then offers him a bright smile. “Takahisa Masuda. My friends call me Massu.”
“Massu,” Junno repeats and can’t help but notice the way the other brightens at the sound of it. “Maybe I’ll run into you again someday.”
“I hope not,” Massu answers, chuckling softly. He drops his hand from Junno’s arm and motions to the sign overhead. “But you should come back someday. This place has the best gyoza in town.”
Junno glances at the sign, his sense of urgency forgotten for a moment as he considers. “I should.”
“How about tonight at 8? My treat.”
Junno grins and nods at the other. “See you at eight.”
He smiles and hums softly as he takes off on his bike again, thinking that gyoza has never sounded better.
Genre: AU, Fluff
Pairing: Junnosuke Taguchi/Masuda Takahisa
Rating: G
Summary: Junno is a bike messenger in Tokyo, and with his job comes certain hazards. The results of these hazards may not always be bad, though...
Notes: Written for a comment fic challenge (same one that spawned Bon Voyage) here over the weekend. The prompt was Junnosuke Taguchi x Masuda Takahisa = Let it Be [SMAP]. The inspiration for the fic was drawn from the video. Once again, dedicated to nanyakanya, because her love for Massu is pure. Also, she is awesome and knows her puns. ♥
Being a bike messenger in Tokyo is, Junno thinks, a very underappreciated job. Navigating the mid-morning or after lunch crowds, often while carrying breakable cargo from here to there on a tight schedule, is even harder than it sounds. He works long hours, often when the heat or the cold have other people hurrying from one place to another or sticking to their nice, climate controlled apartments and houses, and most of the time he does this for a commission that doesn’t amount to five percent of what his boss is making from the deliveries.
The job does, however, pay for his bike up keep and repairs, and a nice, heavy winter jacket, so he doesn’t see any point in complaining. Especially when, all-in-all, he loves his job and the freedom it allows him. It keeps him out of a badly lit cubicle and stuffy suits and for now that’s enough.
He's in the middle of a delivery and particularly in love with his job, enjoying the crisp autum air on his cheeks as he winds his way through a series of side streets on his way to an office building that he’s delivered to before, when a man suddenly steps out of nowhere and right into his path.
It is in this instant that Junno thinks that he loves his job, but not some of the hazards that come with it.
He swerves to the side on reflex, catching a glimpse of the wide-eyed, shocked look on the man’s face before he skids past him and into the side of a nearby building, the collision leaving him sprawled out in a graceless heap of tires and limbs, staring up at a bright yellow sign that reads Tokyo’s Best Ramen! overhead.
There are footsteps and a worried sound, and then the stranger is leaning over him, his face round and concerned. “I’m so sorry! I should have been paying more attention-are you alright?”
Junno blinks, a little dazed as the man reaches down to help him sit up, still babbling apologies as he starts to dust off Junno’s jacket and checks him over for injuries.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” The man’s voice is genuinely worried and Junno looks at him a bit stupidly as he tries to decide. He doesn’t feel that injured, really.
“I… no, I don’t think so.”
The stranger frowns and reaches up, pushing Junno’s hair out of his eyes with a worried look. He ‘tsks’ softly and digs some sort of wipe out of his pocket, ripping the packet open to dab at Junno’s forehead gently.
It burns slightly and Junno fliches away from it, the stranger giving him an apologetic look.
“Sorry... the alcohol stings a bit sometimes. I just thought we should get it cleaned up.” The man’s voice is deep, much deeper than belongs with such a round, youthful face. Junno blinks and smiles a little at the thought, an expression the other returns.
“It’s okay,” Junno assures him, only flinching a little when the other starts to dab at his forehead again. He must be cut, but he can’t really feel it. “Is it bad?”
“No… it looked like there was more blood than there was,” the man answers, folding the used wipe up and tucking it inside its wrapper neatly.
Junno nods, willing to trust the other’s judgment as he glances down at his coat. There’s a small tear in one of the pockets and it’s black along one arm where he skidded across the sidewalk, but nothing that a thorough washing and a needle and thread won’t fix. For once he’s actually glad his boss insists on white uniforms-as impractical as they seem it makes them easier to wash. He’s started keeping a ready supply of bleach at home since he started this job.
“What about you? Are you alright?” He asks, suddenly realizing that he hasn’t bothered up to this point, and feeling more than a little rude for doing so.
“I’m fine. Just glad you’re alright,” the man answers with a smile that is so genuine Junno can’t help but return it.
“I’m fine. Just a little tired,” Junno cracks and is pleasantly surprised to hear the other’s deep, breathy laughter. He joins in, his own laughter high pitched and his smile showing far too many teeth, but the stranger doesn’t seem to mind at all.
“Good to hear.” The other man grins, his eyes lighting up with it.
“People don’t usually laugh at my jokes,” Junno admits, pleased with himself and far too happy, despite the dirt on his jacket and the fact that his bike is still laying on its side on the sidewalk and he’s no doubt scratched the paint again, a fact which won’t escape his boss’s notice. It’s this thought that makes him remember that he’s here because of work, work that involves a very strict time schedule and an often less than forgiving boss.
“Oh no-I have to go!” He stands suddenly, his eyes wide and voice flustered as he goes to inspect his bike, checking the satchel slung across his seat, glad for once that he was only carrying documents and not something breakable.
“Are you sure?” The other man is watching him, his brows furrowed and face a little confused. He keeps staring, watching as Junno lifts his bike and checks it over quickly for damage. “I don’t know if you should ride again so soon.”
“No, it’s okay,” Junno assures him as he stands, relieved to see that his bike is still in working order. It looks a little worse for the wear, but he can deal with that as long as it can get him to where he’s going. “I have to go. I’m supposed to deliver these by three.”
The stranger frowns a little and glances at his watch, then back up at Junno, and nods as if this makes perfect sense. Junno slings one long leg over the bike, checking that the satchel is secure before he leaves. He’s about to take off again when the other man steps forward and places a hand on his arm. “What’s your name?”
“Junno,” he answers automatically, then smiles sheepishly and blushes at his own informality. “Junnosuke Taguchi.”
The man nods, mouths his name silently and then offers him a bright smile. “Takahisa Masuda. My friends call me Massu.”
“Massu,” Junno repeats and can’t help but notice the way the other brightens at the sound of it. “Maybe I’ll run into you again someday.”
“I hope not,” Massu answers, chuckling softly. He drops his hand from Junno’s arm and motions to the sign overhead. “But you should come back someday. This place has the best gyoza in town.”
Junno glances at the sign, his sense of urgency forgotten for a moment as he considers. “I should.”
“How about tonight at 8? My treat.”
Junno grins and nods at the other. “See you at eight.”
He smiles and hums softly as he takes off on his bike again, thinking that gyoza has never sounded better.