arashi fiction 45 - life goes on
Title: This Time and Always
Who: Jun/Aiba
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some suggestion of sexual activity.
Notes: There are so many things to say. Thank you to all my betas for putting up with me as I furiously threw ideas at you and made you get more excited for this thing than you probably should be. Hope everyone reading can take the plot with a grain of salt - there’s a potential for historical inaccuracies, but in a Disney movie, fluffy way I think.
Summary: Jun and Aiba have more history than either of them know. Originally written for je_holiday.
The names they know now are Aiba Masaki and Matsumoto Jun, and those are the only names they'll ever know. They've heard about ancestors and family trees, enough to know where their bodies came from, and have enough personal history between them to say they know all about each other, how their personalities developed and where they might be headed next.
For all the things they call 'history', they know nothing about history, and how much they truly have together.
All they really know is the smile of the other just before their lips touch, and the thought that something has finally gone right.
---
If they didn't catch up, they were going to be left behind, and Jun had no intention of separating from his group.
"Seriously, what are you doing?" Jun tried to push Aiba along, but once his mind was set on trying something, it was impossible to get him to see reason.
"I'm staying here," the man responded, nodding to himself.
"We don't stay anywhere, we keep moving," Jun reminded him, stomach rumbling already. When had the last of the meat run out? The group was going to hunt without them, he just knew it.
"I'm going to stay and plant some things. I think maybe I can live like that."
Jun shook his head and stormed off without him. Stay in one place and grow plants? What kind of crazy idea was that? If everyone thought that way, they'd be dead.
---
Jun wasn't the type to take a vacation. If you weren't working hard, you were hardly working. Planning cities in locations he'd never even heard of before being handed poorly drawn maps? Not exactly the easiest job on record. Of course he couldn't think of anything he'd rather do - his last system of aqueducts was the best yet.
Still, somehow he'd been convinced that a trip to Pompeii would do him good. A dip in the hot springs, good wine and good company, just a few days of relaxation before it was back to asserting his authority over the planning commission (though several of the members were twice his age).
He had to wonder now if that was where he'd gone wrong. Maybe the Gods viewed that as a mistake.
The best way he could think of not to completely panic and wreck his body with sobs was to think back to the night before. The way Aiba's hands had found their way to dangerous places beneath the bubbling of the water, the man's kiss more innocent than anything their bodies were doing.
Maybe Aiba had reached a boat in time. Maybe Vesuvius from a distance looked more like the Alps, now that all was said and done.
"Day one," he spoke to himself, though he'd never be able to judge time in a dark, empty room.
It was hard to breathe, but... Aiba's hands were exploring under the water. And Aiba was always full of hope.
---
He was trying to sleep, even with the sounds of skin smacking against skin somewhere not too far on the right. He didn't have to do that sort of thing at the end of each training session. He liked his brothers in arms well enough already. Probably more than they realized, since he was one of the few without a wife to see him off, presenting him with a shield and telling him to make her proud.
But there was a foot that kept trying to tickle the bottom of his own. Over and over again.
"I told you I'm not in the mood. I'm tired, I'm going to bed," he warned again. Most people knew not to push him when he used his angry voice.
A high-pitched giggle sounded before the foot returned and the culprit was revealed. Aiba was the only one who thought Jun's reluctance was attractive instead of annoying. He never tried to take advantage, but he never stopped trying to persuade.
"It's a losing battle," Jun growled again. The foot traveled higher - to his calf.
"We won't lose," Aiba spoke with foolish confidence. Jun hadn't meant the actual battle, but explaining himself to Aiba was like an invitation to be disturbed from his rest. He only grunted as Aiba's body started inching closer. He and Aiba had never, and would never. Jun had promised himself so.
"The guy with the sleepy eyes," Aiba started - Jun knew exactly what he was up to, they were transparent to each other by now, "the one who mothers everybody, and the one who looks too young to be here."
"Yeah, so what?" Jun snapped, opening his eyes to meet Aiba's sad gaze.
"I just don't understand. I'm your best friend."
He hated the puppy dog eyes, and the guilt that welled up inside, just because Aiba was right. But if he let himself get as close as he wanted, it wouldn't motivate him to fight, it would motivate him to run away - Aiba in tow.
"Always will be," Jun assured him, rolling over to show Aiba his back.
He had to be strong. For Sparta.
---
"What is your purpose?" Jun called down from the tower, squinting at the plain looking knight below.
"I seek the Holy Grail!" came the response. Without a horse? The man was either unusually brave or incredibly stupid.
"Don't let him in," Jun gave his order, watching curiously as the questionable knight - who should have been on his dejected way by now, made small talk with the guards at the gate. They laughed and waved as he bid them farewell.
Huh.
"GOOD LUCK!" Jun called after him, face turning red in spite of the chill in the air.
He wasn't really sure why he did.
---
He was tired of hearing about the ball game, he really was, and while he could sympathize that his coworker really wanted to be able to participate as more than just a spectator, Jun really wished the man would notice all the hard work he was putting in to finishing this section of the calendar before night fall.
"And then the winning captain presented his head..." Aiba tried to build up suspense in his story, in spite of the fact that anyone who existed would know what was coming next, "and WHACK! His head was gone and he was off to the beyond."
"That's a fantastic story," Jun stated sarcastically. It was probably the fifth time he'd heard it this week.
He knew that Aiba had only taken this position as a chance to be recognized by the elders and asked to participate in the games. It didn't mean he had to like how much enthusiasm Aiba had for that particular part of the sport. He didn't know what was waiting in the beyond, he wasn't sure that any of them knew for certain, and though it would be an honor for Aiba to be sent straight to the Gods... Jun hated the idea of the man reaching that place so soon before him.
"You never want to talk about the game," Aiba spoke. Jun could hear the pout in his voice without having to turn around and see it. Aiba was standing right behind him, breathing in and out, not quite close enough to tickle the hair on the back of Jun's neck but enough to conjure an image of it in his mind.
"Nope," he answered and continued to work.
His work was important. The calendar was important. The games were... cheating.
"And you should be scribing the numbers I give you."
"It's okay if you're jealous you know," Aiba informed him as he picked up his tools, returning to Jun's side, "I am too."
"It's not that I'm jealous," Jun answered with a roll of his eyes - it seemed pointless to be jealous of someone getting their head chopped off, in his opinion, "I'm just tired of hearing about it."
Not that he could blame Aiba for always wanting to talk about it. Things got boring on their own, working day in and day out to create a calendar for a future generation with little benefit to themselves. He'd participated in some strange activities at Aiba's prodding just to pass some time without having to think about time.
The one activity he thought about the most was one Aiba had never actually suggested, but made Jun's entire body blush just to imagine.
Would probably be more exciting than some sport to the death, anyway.
"Poor you. Have to go through the thirteen steps just like everyone else," Aiba teased, throwing an arm about his shoulder. Jun shivered and nudged him away.
"I've probably taken more of those steps than you have. Contact with you is pushing me backward," he jabbed playfully, shaking his head.
Aiba grinned.
"So, speaking of thirteen..." he started, trailing off and watching Jun's expression carefully. Jun raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment. "I was thinking... why don't we just stop with the thirteenth b'ak'tun?"
"Just... stop?" Jun asked incredulously. Aiba seemed to be expecting this response, throwing his head back in a laugh. That would mean not working again after tonight, a tempting proposition, but something that would likely earn them disfavor from the elders and the Gods, not something he thought Aiba was really willing to risk.
Aiba didn't respond, just kept smiling at Jun, that look in his eyes. Like this was the best idea he'd ever come up with and if Jun didn't follow along with it, he'd miss everything.
"That would make it look like the world was going to end in a few thousand years."
Aiba had the decency to look sheepish, but wasn't ready to give up yet.
"They'll find someone else to finish the calendar when they need it. We'll be long gone by the time they even come close to needing more time on this thing."
Jun had a feeling he was talking about a different kind of distance. Up, up and beyond. To be honest, he couldn't shake the thought that Aiba was right. It was nagging at the back of his mind, pushing him in a joint-effort with that fantasy of he and Aiba together and all the things it could mean.
But Jun didn't let go so easily.
"How about this," he began his compromise, tapping his fingers against his thigh, "we finish tonight, and then we work half a day tomorrow. We can even practice for the game if you want, no one has to know."
"No one has to know," Aiba repeated, his curiosity piqued.
"Just you and me," Jun assured him, reaching out his twitching fingers to grasp at Aiba's, squeezing gently.
Aiba stared at their linked hands for what felt like eternity, finally looking up and nodding, accepting his defeat. Maybe he'd not been serious in the first place. Maybe it wasn't much of a loss.
"We have all the time in world anyway," he teased, letting go and stepping into a patch of red-orange light from the setting sun. He was glowing.
They didn't expect what happened next.
Neither did history, leaving behind a list of maybes beneath a Mesoamerican headline.
---
He was absolutely sure that this was the way to spend a Carnival night, the glamorous and the detestable alike. Not that he was after the detestable, of course.
He'd gotten a few raised eyebrows when he'd first announced he was planning a trip to Venice for the festivities, most likely assumed to be heading out of the country for delinquency alone. It wouldn't be unheard of, a member of the German aristocracy taking leave on 'business' just before Lent, though talk of war was rampant. Catholic, Protestant, it honestly didn't matter to Jun, and if there was going to be a conflict, it was better to experience life now before he was called to arms.
He wanted human connectivity, and a study of spectacle, not a romp with a cheap whore on a dirty mattress. If men even made it to mattresses, as he'd seen quite a few pressed against walls already. Eager for a pretty face, hands likely moving before their minds could even catch up.
He had pitied them all, judged them harshly, until he'd stared too long in one direction and fallen victim to the same trap. A bright colored dress, a feathered mask, dark locks shining when passing through the candlelight in her dance - that was all it took, something deep within him compelling him to take her hand and pull her in for the next.
It wasn't about curves, she had few to call her own, but about the smirk that graced her lips, as if she knew the entire world was watching.
It wasn't love. It wasn't even lust. It was curiosity and enchantment that set them in the same gondola, headed... who knew where.
"Excuse me," a voice sounded behind him, an easy enough phrase to understand, but hard to catch when the man spoke so softly.
His Italian was weak, the vernacular confusing and detached from the standard he'd been taught in a stuffy classroom.
"Yes?" Jun responded, the most coherent way he could.
The gondolier looked sheepish, wringing his hands and staring past Jun's shoulder, afraid to meet his eyes. This was probably going to be about money. He'd been recognized as a foreigner and would be expected to pay a higher price. He'd fight the man on it, easily.
"I'm not sure what you're planning on doing next," the man continued nervously. Jun wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone look blissful and ashamed simultaneously, at least not in the innocent way the gondolier was wearing the expression now. "But I thought, to be polite, I should tell you that the person you're with right now is a male."
Jun blinked. Maybe he'd misunderstood.
"THIS IS THE THIRD TIME! Why do I even bother with you?" the up-until-this-moment-a-woman snapped, throwing her... his mask into the water.
"But you have a beauty mark," Jun tried to convince himself this wasn't happening, face turning hot when the man in a dress stared back incredulously.
"That's for insulting mama's food! Better luck next time, Nino!"
"Antonino. You don't get to call me Nino," the man sulked, climbing out of the gondola without so much as a glance back at Jun. He'd not even gotten a chance to say it didn't matter. Just because he didn't flaunt his preferences like everyone else didn't mean -
"Are you hungry?" Aiba asked, smiling down at him, no sign of him expecting Jun to leave or even pay just yet.
And... yeah. Yeah, he kind of was.
---
It was a good life. Un foi, un loi, un roi. A tongue twister, but a motto not so hard to follow when you reaped the benefits of being in court. Jun had been favored for years now, which made things even easier.
No one cared if he missed Act I Scene II to shove his tongue down the throat of another man, so long as he made it back in time for the climactic death scene.
Dinners could be passed with stolen glances, so long as respects were made to the King, perhaps a compliment to his choice in Steinquerque.
He'd just not been listening when the world had warned that good things couldn't last forever.
"FIRE!" he heard the shouts as he was making his way toward the door, "QUICK, BRING WATER!"
Instead of running, he turned, watching as the servants fumbled with pails. Before he could assess what could have possibly happened from the end of the evening's events to now, the guards were dragging Aiba out from the King's Chambers, holding tighter as he tried to kick free.
"I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE!" he yelled as he struggled to get loose.
"What did you do!?" Jun called out to him without thinking, the horror clear on his face.
Helping the King out of his clothes was an honor. He should have known with Aiba it was more a recipe for disaster.
"I thought I could make the room brighter! I didn't mean to get the candle so close to his bed curtains!" Aiba responded in despair, the guards hissing about treason and disgrace as the man continued to kick.
There'd be no more kisses at intermission, no wandering hands behind trees in the courtyard, no shared laughter and gossip about the women who thought they could be won. Not with Aiba.
Jun was too shocked to shed a tear.
"Remember me!" were his last words.
Jun remembered as long as he could.
---
"I captain the ship, I don't own it," Jun told him not for the first time, shaking his head as Aiba made himself comfortable, sprawled across his poor excuse for a bed.
"Just a few days longer! Whose to say you didn't get caught in a storm somewhere in the middle?" Aiba argued, though they both knew the answer to that.
An entire crew. An entire crew to say that there was no storm and to cost Jun his job, and then what would he do? Sneak back on another ship, live a life even lower than that of a sailor? He'd probably die. In jail, in passage, from starvation.
"You like to say we've known each other a year, but you know as well I do that we've known each other but a few days in that time. That's not enough to - "
"The best days of your life!" Aiba interrupted, looking furious but far from threatening. He didn't seem like he believed his own words. He wanted Jun's reassurance.
Jun sighed.
"What are you doing here?" he asked as he lowered himself to the bed, hands already reaching to help Aiba out of his clothes. He wasn't refusing. He couldn't refuse.
"It's cold outside."
"It's winter, of course it's cold outside," Jun chose not to reply until he'd completely stripped himself, shivering and stating the obvious as he continued, "I'm freezing."
Aiba didn't have to speak; his laugh said everything. Jun could stop being an idiot and get under the blankets with him. That would make it significantly less cold. At least once they worked up a sweat together.
"Dirty colonist," Jun mumbled teasingly against Aiba's ear as his hand traveled along skin.
It was a playful way to hide the complicated truth between them. Jun couldn't be a colonist because he was making his living already, on this ship, a ship that wasn't supposed to be for romance and secrets, but for King George. And money - from the pockets of people like Aiba.
Aiba didn't want to be loyal and Aiba couldn't come with him. This was all they had.
After that, words ceased, replaced by slurp of a messier kiss than intended, and the raspy chuckle of a man in love and denial.
Maybe it was meant to feel different. Maybe there should have been fireworks and impossibly loud cries of pleasure. Maybe he could have gone slower longer, prolonged the end, instead of letting the thrill of Aiba around him take over, hips thrusting harder and faster.
Maybe. But there was no control when it came to Aiba, and he couldn't shape his memories alone.
"Can you hear it?" Aiba whispered in the dark, the candles long burned out and his breath lukewarm.
Any other time, Jun would know he meant the beat of his heart, steady and constant. But tonight there were sounds above deck too noisy to ignore. The crew was stirring, shouting, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of disturbance in the harbor.
"Get dressed," Jun ordered, throwing his own clothes on without care. Someone would come to fetch him soon enough, and naked in bed with another man was not the image to present.
Aiba waited to join him against the rail until the commotion had died down, three ships ransacked and cargo lost. Jun wondered if it was enough to paint the entire harbor the color of tea. He could almost smell it. The smoky scent of the cold night air was stronger.
"I'll miss you," the man whispered, risking a desperate grip on Jun's shoulder.
He couldn't bring himself to do more than just stand there until the warmth of Aiba's hand was lost entirely.
Jun had a ship. Aiba had a cause.
---
"Did you hear they're talking about sending convicts here now? Convicts in South Africa, what are they thinking of?" Jun complained at one of the local gentleman. The one he'd forgotten the name of already because he never spoke more than a few syllables when they met up for drinks. Most people just called him 'the false native' when they wanted to refer to him, though Jun had never really liked how superior they were playing themselves up to be.
As if being native was a bad thing. Though he did wish the man would remember a hat.
"I think I'm going to Asia. To cure diseases or something," Aiba answered instead, the shine in his eye as blinding as the African sun.
"Good luck to you," Jun wished him the best before heading out for another of his evening walks. His stomach was unsettled again. The fresh air would do him some good.
--
"IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO DIG A MOAT, GIVE WOMEN THE RIGHT TO VOTE!" she chanted, dress rustling each time she reached the end of her stretch of sidewalk and did an about-turn.
It wasn't the first time he'd seen a suffragette.
London was full of suffragettes, teeming with them, from every echelon of society; each one was armed with a catchy slogan and furiously batting eyelashes. His sister-in-law had spewed her opinions freely, viciously, until the day influenza managed what men with power could not. It silenced her, buried her, and while Jun had made it known to his wife that she could take up the cause in her sister's honor if she wished, in their household no more had been said on the subject. Neither of them had passion for anything, really. A proper British couple in society, many would say.
But it was the first time he'd seen a suffragette quite like this one.
"IF I HAVE TO DIG A MOAT, YOU WILL HAVE TO BUY A BOAT!"
It wasn't that her campaign was particularly effective. Carrying a shovel with a smile was less a way to attract positive attention and more a way to get herself thrown in an asylum if the weary constable shouting about not doing anything rash was any indication, but she didn't seem to mind.
Neither did he.
"IF I PROMISE NOT TO GLOAT, WILL YOU LET ME CAST MY VOTE?"
That is, he didn't mind watching her march all on her own. He found, strangely, he did mind if she was carted off to be analyzed by corrupt doctors with warped view of scientific progress. She wasn't crazy, she was absolutely beautiful.
He crossed the street.
"IF I GET A CHANCE TO VOTE, I WILL VOTE TO BUILD A BRIDGE OVER THE MOAT."
It didn't quite fit her usual pattern, but Jun wasn't approaching her for that. He had one simple question to ask her.
There was something that no one had ever been able to tell him before. Not his sister in law, not so-and-so's wife, no newspaper column, and certainly not the supposed male supporter of the cause who'd really just been flapping his gums for the sake of business (say women can vote and get them to buy your brand of hair product). None of them had answered to his satisfaction. He understood about equal rights, and all the reasons they should be allowed to vote. What he didn't know was why they wanted to.
"Why?" he asked her without introduction, not caring that he was putting his life in danger with the way the shovel followed her in her spin.
"Sorry?" she responded, eyes wide and pose defensive. She probably wasn't used to being acknowledged, and if she had been, not by anyone with good intentions.
"I'm just curious as to why you want to vote," Jun announced with, admittedly, a smirk that was more smug than it should have been. Maybe he was feeling proud of himself for having worked up the courage to speak with her. She didn't seem as impressed.
"My husband studies the economy," she began proudly, something that threw Jun off completely. Not because he'd assumed she was unattached, though the negation of it still pricked at his heart a little, but because no one he'd spoken to seemed interested in what their husbands were doing - unless they were bitter about it. "He knows about where the money's supposed to be going. And when it's going to to turn around and punch the people who used it in the jaw."
Jun flinched.
"I mean... you know, when not to use it. Right? But he never spends it. He either sits on it or has me do it. Groceries and clothing and a new kettle for tea. He's never satisfied with the kettle and I keep telling him I'll fix it myself but he doesn't want me trying anything since the cat."
"I see," Jun spoke briefly, not wanting to stop her now that he was beginning to understand, if he was even beginning to understand... her point seemed to be lost somewhere in his concern for what kind of horrible situation could occur with a kettle and a cat.
"I go to buy milk the other day and it's more expensive than usual, right? And he says - oh, that's funny, because I was just saying the other day that something was going to have to happen. Something, he says. He knew something."
"And that means?" Jun urged her to continue, a smile playing at his lips. It didn't seem like much of a conversation from an outsider's perspective, but Jun knew they were reaching a conclusion together.
"I don't want him running this country without my help."
Her laughter was loud and full for a moment as she leaned her weight against the shovel, using the tool like a cane. Jun matched her laughter with a brighter smile of his own while he gave himself time to process all that she had told him. For all the great minds he'd dined with, none had been so articulate as she had, and that was truly saying something.
"Your husband," Jun decided, shaking his head in wonder, "is the luckiest man on this earth."
For once in his life, Jun refused to be proper, leaving her with a kiss and an expression of awe. A smile and a tip of his hat as a sign of respect, and Jun went on his way, his heart light.
----
"You let Ohno."
"Yes."
"You let Sho."
"Yes I did."
"You let Nino," Aiba made his final point, and a good one to make at that.
Jun made sure to keep his eyes on his script. If they strayed anywhere to his left, his resolve was sure to crumble.
"They can be trusted to put their hands there and nowhere else," Jun reminded him, ears turning a light shade of red, "and I let you play with my hair when we woke up this morning."
It wouldn't be such a problem if they weren't scheduled to film at any given moment. What seemed like free time was not really free time when a crew member could burst through the door even now, claiming they needed one of them on set.
"Jun," he called, as if someone had placed a heart mark at the end of his name, "I'm going to touch it. C'mere?"
"Not going to happen."
"Let's put it to a vote!" Aiba assumed he could appeal to his bandmates when they returned.
"Masaki's vote doesn't count," Jun immediately shot him down.
"I'm going to touch it," Aiba grew more determined, sneaking closer as if Jun wouldn't be able to tell. He was probably smiling too. Jun didn't have to be looking to see. Aiba was always full of hope like that.
"I'm only working half a day tomorrow. You can touch me all you want then, and no one has to know."
"No one has to know?" Aiba repeated, his tone so soft and sad that Jun couldn't help but turn and look.
Aiba grinned.
Jun rolled his eyes, but it didn't stop Aiba from pressing against him, less a hug than just a way to fit their bodies together.
"Before you ask," Jun spoke against the man's shoulder, his voice muffled but clear enough to matter, "yes, I can hear your heartbeat. It's very nice."
"Oh, is that so?" Aiba responded in a playful voice, "Oh oh oh. I see."
He let Aiba gently nudge his chin up, exaggerating his sigh of defeat. They smiled as Aiba's fingers began to thread through product-perfect locks. They both knew it was going to end up this way. They'd just taken the long road this time.
"You do... don't you?" Aiba asked, just before he leaned in for a kiss.
"Always will," Jun answered simply.
And he probably always had.
Who: Jun/Aiba
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some suggestion of sexual activity.
Notes: There are so many things to say. Thank you to all my betas for putting up with me as I furiously threw ideas at you and made you get more excited for this thing than you probably should be. Hope everyone reading can take the plot with a grain of salt - there’s a potential for historical inaccuracies, but in a Disney movie, fluffy way I think.
Summary: Jun and Aiba have more history than either of them know. Originally written for je_holiday.
The names they know now are Aiba Masaki and Matsumoto Jun, and those are the only names they'll ever know. They've heard about ancestors and family trees, enough to know where their bodies came from, and have enough personal history between them to say they know all about each other, how their personalities developed and where they might be headed next.
For all the things they call 'history', they know nothing about history, and how much they truly have together.
All they really know is the smile of the other just before their lips touch, and the thought that something has finally gone right.
---
If they didn't catch up, they were going to be left behind, and Jun had no intention of separating from his group.
"Seriously, what are you doing?" Jun tried to push Aiba along, but once his mind was set on trying something, it was impossible to get him to see reason.
"I'm staying here," the man responded, nodding to himself.
"We don't stay anywhere, we keep moving," Jun reminded him, stomach rumbling already. When had the last of the meat run out? The group was going to hunt without them, he just knew it.
"I'm going to stay and plant some things. I think maybe I can live like that."
Jun shook his head and stormed off without him. Stay in one place and grow plants? What kind of crazy idea was that? If everyone thought that way, they'd be dead.
---
Jun wasn't the type to take a vacation. If you weren't working hard, you were hardly working. Planning cities in locations he'd never even heard of before being handed poorly drawn maps? Not exactly the easiest job on record. Of course he couldn't think of anything he'd rather do - his last system of aqueducts was the best yet.
Still, somehow he'd been convinced that a trip to Pompeii would do him good. A dip in the hot springs, good wine and good company, just a few days of relaxation before it was back to asserting his authority over the planning commission (though several of the members were twice his age).
He had to wonder now if that was where he'd gone wrong. Maybe the Gods viewed that as a mistake.
The best way he could think of not to completely panic and wreck his body with sobs was to think back to the night before. The way Aiba's hands had found their way to dangerous places beneath the bubbling of the water, the man's kiss more innocent than anything their bodies were doing.
Maybe Aiba had reached a boat in time. Maybe Vesuvius from a distance looked more like the Alps, now that all was said and done.
"Day one," he spoke to himself, though he'd never be able to judge time in a dark, empty room.
It was hard to breathe, but... Aiba's hands were exploring under the water. And Aiba was always full of hope.
---
He was trying to sleep, even with the sounds of skin smacking against skin somewhere not too far on the right. He didn't have to do that sort of thing at the end of each training session. He liked his brothers in arms well enough already. Probably more than they realized, since he was one of the few without a wife to see him off, presenting him with a shield and telling him to make her proud.
But there was a foot that kept trying to tickle the bottom of his own. Over and over again.
"I told you I'm not in the mood. I'm tired, I'm going to bed," he warned again. Most people knew not to push him when he used his angry voice.
A high-pitched giggle sounded before the foot returned and the culprit was revealed. Aiba was the only one who thought Jun's reluctance was attractive instead of annoying. He never tried to take advantage, but he never stopped trying to persuade.
"It's a losing battle," Jun growled again. The foot traveled higher - to his calf.
"We won't lose," Aiba spoke with foolish confidence. Jun hadn't meant the actual battle, but explaining himself to Aiba was like an invitation to be disturbed from his rest. He only grunted as Aiba's body started inching closer. He and Aiba had never, and would never. Jun had promised himself so.
"The guy with the sleepy eyes," Aiba started - Jun knew exactly what he was up to, they were transparent to each other by now, "the one who mothers everybody, and the one who looks too young to be here."
"Yeah, so what?" Jun snapped, opening his eyes to meet Aiba's sad gaze.
"I just don't understand. I'm your best friend."
He hated the puppy dog eyes, and the guilt that welled up inside, just because Aiba was right. But if he let himself get as close as he wanted, it wouldn't motivate him to fight, it would motivate him to run away - Aiba in tow.
"Always will be," Jun assured him, rolling over to show Aiba his back.
He had to be strong. For Sparta.
---
"What is your purpose?" Jun called down from the tower, squinting at the plain looking knight below.
"I seek the Holy Grail!" came the response. Without a horse? The man was either unusually brave or incredibly stupid.
"Don't let him in," Jun gave his order, watching curiously as the questionable knight - who should have been on his dejected way by now, made small talk with the guards at the gate. They laughed and waved as he bid them farewell.
Huh.
"GOOD LUCK!" Jun called after him, face turning red in spite of the chill in the air.
He wasn't really sure why he did.
---
He was tired of hearing about the ball game, he really was, and while he could sympathize that his coworker really wanted to be able to participate as more than just a spectator, Jun really wished the man would notice all the hard work he was putting in to finishing this section of the calendar before night fall.
"And then the winning captain presented his head..." Aiba tried to build up suspense in his story, in spite of the fact that anyone who existed would know what was coming next, "and WHACK! His head was gone and he was off to the beyond."
"That's a fantastic story," Jun stated sarcastically. It was probably the fifth time he'd heard it this week.
He knew that Aiba had only taken this position as a chance to be recognized by the elders and asked to participate in the games. It didn't mean he had to like how much enthusiasm Aiba had for that particular part of the sport. He didn't know what was waiting in the beyond, he wasn't sure that any of them knew for certain, and though it would be an honor for Aiba to be sent straight to the Gods... Jun hated the idea of the man reaching that place so soon before him.
"You never want to talk about the game," Aiba spoke. Jun could hear the pout in his voice without having to turn around and see it. Aiba was standing right behind him, breathing in and out, not quite close enough to tickle the hair on the back of Jun's neck but enough to conjure an image of it in his mind.
"Nope," he answered and continued to work.
His work was important. The calendar was important. The games were... cheating.
"And you should be scribing the numbers I give you."
"It's okay if you're jealous you know," Aiba informed him as he picked up his tools, returning to Jun's side, "I am too."
"It's not that I'm jealous," Jun answered with a roll of his eyes - it seemed pointless to be jealous of someone getting their head chopped off, in his opinion, "I'm just tired of hearing about it."
Not that he could blame Aiba for always wanting to talk about it. Things got boring on their own, working day in and day out to create a calendar for a future generation with little benefit to themselves. He'd participated in some strange activities at Aiba's prodding just to pass some time without having to think about time.
The one activity he thought about the most was one Aiba had never actually suggested, but made Jun's entire body blush just to imagine.
Would probably be more exciting than some sport to the death, anyway.
"Poor you. Have to go through the thirteen steps just like everyone else," Aiba teased, throwing an arm about his shoulder. Jun shivered and nudged him away.
"I've probably taken more of those steps than you have. Contact with you is pushing me backward," he jabbed playfully, shaking his head.
Aiba grinned.
"So, speaking of thirteen..." he started, trailing off and watching Jun's expression carefully. Jun raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment. "I was thinking... why don't we just stop with the thirteenth b'ak'tun?"
"Just... stop?" Jun asked incredulously. Aiba seemed to be expecting this response, throwing his head back in a laugh. That would mean not working again after tonight, a tempting proposition, but something that would likely earn them disfavor from the elders and the Gods, not something he thought Aiba was really willing to risk.
Aiba didn't respond, just kept smiling at Jun, that look in his eyes. Like this was the best idea he'd ever come up with and if Jun didn't follow along with it, he'd miss everything.
"That would make it look like the world was going to end in a few thousand years."
Aiba had the decency to look sheepish, but wasn't ready to give up yet.
"They'll find someone else to finish the calendar when they need it. We'll be long gone by the time they even come close to needing more time on this thing."
Jun had a feeling he was talking about a different kind of distance. Up, up and beyond. To be honest, he couldn't shake the thought that Aiba was right. It was nagging at the back of his mind, pushing him in a joint-effort with that fantasy of he and Aiba together and all the things it could mean.
But Jun didn't let go so easily.
"How about this," he began his compromise, tapping his fingers against his thigh, "we finish tonight, and then we work half a day tomorrow. We can even practice for the game if you want, no one has to know."
"No one has to know," Aiba repeated, his curiosity piqued.
"Just you and me," Jun assured him, reaching out his twitching fingers to grasp at Aiba's, squeezing gently.
Aiba stared at their linked hands for what felt like eternity, finally looking up and nodding, accepting his defeat. Maybe he'd not been serious in the first place. Maybe it wasn't much of a loss.
"We have all the time in world anyway," he teased, letting go and stepping into a patch of red-orange light from the setting sun. He was glowing.
They didn't expect what happened next.
Neither did history, leaving behind a list of maybes beneath a Mesoamerican headline.
---
He was absolutely sure that this was the way to spend a Carnival night, the glamorous and the detestable alike. Not that he was after the detestable, of course.
He'd gotten a few raised eyebrows when he'd first announced he was planning a trip to Venice for the festivities, most likely assumed to be heading out of the country for delinquency alone. It wouldn't be unheard of, a member of the German aristocracy taking leave on 'business' just before Lent, though talk of war was rampant. Catholic, Protestant, it honestly didn't matter to Jun, and if there was going to be a conflict, it was better to experience life now before he was called to arms.
He wanted human connectivity, and a study of spectacle, not a romp with a cheap whore on a dirty mattress. If men even made it to mattresses, as he'd seen quite a few pressed against walls already. Eager for a pretty face, hands likely moving before their minds could even catch up.
He had pitied them all, judged them harshly, until he'd stared too long in one direction and fallen victim to the same trap. A bright colored dress, a feathered mask, dark locks shining when passing through the candlelight in her dance - that was all it took, something deep within him compelling him to take her hand and pull her in for the next.
It wasn't about curves, she had few to call her own, but about the smirk that graced her lips, as if she knew the entire world was watching.
It wasn't love. It wasn't even lust. It was curiosity and enchantment that set them in the same gondola, headed... who knew where.
"Excuse me," a voice sounded behind him, an easy enough phrase to understand, but hard to catch when the man spoke so softly.
His Italian was weak, the vernacular confusing and detached from the standard he'd been taught in a stuffy classroom.
"Yes?" Jun responded, the most coherent way he could.
The gondolier looked sheepish, wringing his hands and staring past Jun's shoulder, afraid to meet his eyes. This was probably going to be about money. He'd been recognized as a foreigner and would be expected to pay a higher price. He'd fight the man on it, easily.
"I'm not sure what you're planning on doing next," the man continued nervously. Jun wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone look blissful and ashamed simultaneously, at least not in the innocent way the gondolier was wearing the expression now. "But I thought, to be polite, I should tell you that the person you're with right now is a male."
Jun blinked. Maybe he'd misunderstood.
"THIS IS THE THIRD TIME! Why do I even bother with you?" the up-until-this-moment-a-woman snapped, throwing her... his mask into the water.
"But you have a beauty mark," Jun tried to convince himself this wasn't happening, face turning hot when the man in a dress stared back incredulously.
"That's for insulting mama's food! Better luck next time, Nino!"
"Antonino. You don't get to call me Nino," the man sulked, climbing out of the gondola without so much as a glance back at Jun. He'd not even gotten a chance to say it didn't matter. Just because he didn't flaunt his preferences like everyone else didn't mean -
"Are you hungry?" Aiba asked, smiling down at him, no sign of him expecting Jun to leave or even pay just yet.
And... yeah. Yeah, he kind of was.
---
It was a good life. Un foi, un loi, un roi. A tongue twister, but a motto not so hard to follow when you reaped the benefits of being in court. Jun had been favored for years now, which made things even easier.
No one cared if he missed Act I Scene II to shove his tongue down the throat of another man, so long as he made it back in time for the climactic death scene.
Dinners could be passed with stolen glances, so long as respects were made to the King, perhaps a compliment to his choice in Steinquerque.
He'd just not been listening when the world had warned that good things couldn't last forever.
"FIRE!" he heard the shouts as he was making his way toward the door, "QUICK, BRING WATER!"
Instead of running, he turned, watching as the servants fumbled with pails. Before he could assess what could have possibly happened from the end of the evening's events to now, the guards were dragging Aiba out from the King's Chambers, holding tighter as he tried to kick free.
"I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE!" he yelled as he struggled to get loose.
"What did you do!?" Jun called out to him without thinking, the horror clear on his face.
Helping the King out of his clothes was an honor. He should have known with Aiba it was more a recipe for disaster.
"I thought I could make the room brighter! I didn't mean to get the candle so close to his bed curtains!" Aiba responded in despair, the guards hissing about treason and disgrace as the man continued to kick.
There'd be no more kisses at intermission, no wandering hands behind trees in the courtyard, no shared laughter and gossip about the women who thought they could be won. Not with Aiba.
Jun was too shocked to shed a tear.
"Remember me!" were his last words.
Jun remembered as long as he could.
---
"I captain the ship, I don't own it," Jun told him not for the first time, shaking his head as Aiba made himself comfortable, sprawled across his poor excuse for a bed.
"Just a few days longer! Whose to say you didn't get caught in a storm somewhere in the middle?" Aiba argued, though they both knew the answer to that.
An entire crew. An entire crew to say that there was no storm and to cost Jun his job, and then what would he do? Sneak back on another ship, live a life even lower than that of a sailor? He'd probably die. In jail, in passage, from starvation.
"You like to say we've known each other a year, but you know as well I do that we've known each other but a few days in that time. That's not enough to - "
"The best days of your life!" Aiba interrupted, looking furious but far from threatening. He didn't seem like he believed his own words. He wanted Jun's reassurance.
Jun sighed.
"What are you doing here?" he asked as he lowered himself to the bed, hands already reaching to help Aiba out of his clothes. He wasn't refusing. He couldn't refuse.
"It's cold outside."
"It's winter, of course it's cold outside," Jun chose not to reply until he'd completely stripped himself, shivering and stating the obvious as he continued, "I'm freezing."
Aiba didn't have to speak; his laugh said everything. Jun could stop being an idiot and get under the blankets with him. That would make it significantly less cold. At least once they worked up a sweat together.
"Dirty colonist," Jun mumbled teasingly against Aiba's ear as his hand traveled along skin.
It was a playful way to hide the complicated truth between them. Jun couldn't be a colonist because he was making his living already, on this ship, a ship that wasn't supposed to be for romance and secrets, but for King George. And money - from the pockets of people like Aiba.
Aiba didn't want to be loyal and Aiba couldn't come with him. This was all they had.
After that, words ceased, replaced by slurp of a messier kiss than intended, and the raspy chuckle of a man in love and denial.
Maybe it was meant to feel different. Maybe there should have been fireworks and impossibly loud cries of pleasure. Maybe he could have gone slower longer, prolonged the end, instead of letting the thrill of Aiba around him take over, hips thrusting harder and faster.
Maybe. But there was no control when it came to Aiba, and he couldn't shape his memories alone.
"Can you hear it?" Aiba whispered in the dark, the candles long burned out and his breath lukewarm.
Any other time, Jun would know he meant the beat of his heart, steady and constant. But tonight there were sounds above deck too noisy to ignore. The crew was stirring, shouting, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of disturbance in the harbor.
"Get dressed," Jun ordered, throwing his own clothes on without care. Someone would come to fetch him soon enough, and naked in bed with another man was not the image to present.
Aiba waited to join him against the rail until the commotion had died down, three ships ransacked and cargo lost. Jun wondered if it was enough to paint the entire harbor the color of tea. He could almost smell it. The smoky scent of the cold night air was stronger.
"I'll miss you," the man whispered, risking a desperate grip on Jun's shoulder.
He couldn't bring himself to do more than just stand there until the warmth of Aiba's hand was lost entirely.
Jun had a ship. Aiba had a cause.
---
"Did you hear they're talking about sending convicts here now? Convicts in South Africa, what are they thinking of?" Jun complained at one of the local gentleman. The one he'd forgotten the name of already because he never spoke more than a few syllables when they met up for drinks. Most people just called him 'the false native' when they wanted to refer to him, though Jun had never really liked how superior they were playing themselves up to be.
As if being native was a bad thing. Though he did wish the man would remember a hat.
"I think I'm going to Asia. To cure diseases or something," Aiba answered instead, the shine in his eye as blinding as the African sun.
"Good luck to you," Jun wished him the best before heading out for another of his evening walks. His stomach was unsettled again. The fresh air would do him some good.
--
"IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO DIG A MOAT, GIVE WOMEN THE RIGHT TO VOTE!" she chanted, dress rustling each time she reached the end of her stretch of sidewalk and did an about-turn.
It wasn't the first time he'd seen a suffragette.
London was full of suffragettes, teeming with them, from every echelon of society; each one was armed with a catchy slogan and furiously batting eyelashes. His sister-in-law had spewed her opinions freely, viciously, until the day influenza managed what men with power could not. It silenced her, buried her, and while Jun had made it known to his wife that she could take up the cause in her sister's honor if she wished, in their household no more had been said on the subject. Neither of them had passion for anything, really. A proper British couple in society, many would say.
But it was the first time he'd seen a suffragette quite like this one.
"IF I HAVE TO DIG A MOAT, YOU WILL HAVE TO BUY A BOAT!"
It wasn't that her campaign was particularly effective. Carrying a shovel with a smile was less a way to attract positive attention and more a way to get herself thrown in an asylum if the weary constable shouting about not doing anything rash was any indication, but she didn't seem to mind.
Neither did he.
"IF I PROMISE NOT TO GLOAT, WILL YOU LET ME CAST MY VOTE?"
That is, he didn't mind watching her march all on her own. He found, strangely, he did mind if she was carted off to be analyzed by corrupt doctors with warped view of scientific progress. She wasn't crazy, she was absolutely beautiful.
He crossed the street.
"IF I GET A CHANCE TO VOTE, I WILL VOTE TO BUILD A BRIDGE OVER THE MOAT."
It didn't quite fit her usual pattern, but Jun wasn't approaching her for that. He had one simple question to ask her.
There was something that no one had ever been able to tell him before. Not his sister in law, not so-and-so's wife, no newspaper column, and certainly not the supposed male supporter of the cause who'd really just been flapping his gums for the sake of business (say women can vote and get them to buy your brand of hair product). None of them had answered to his satisfaction. He understood about equal rights, and all the reasons they should be allowed to vote. What he didn't know was why they wanted to.
"Why?" he asked her without introduction, not caring that he was putting his life in danger with the way the shovel followed her in her spin.
"Sorry?" she responded, eyes wide and pose defensive. She probably wasn't used to being acknowledged, and if she had been, not by anyone with good intentions.
"I'm just curious as to why you want to vote," Jun announced with, admittedly, a smirk that was more smug than it should have been. Maybe he was feeling proud of himself for having worked up the courage to speak with her. She didn't seem as impressed.
"My husband studies the economy," she began proudly, something that threw Jun off completely. Not because he'd assumed she was unattached, though the negation of it still pricked at his heart a little, but because no one he'd spoken to seemed interested in what their husbands were doing - unless they were bitter about it. "He knows about where the money's supposed to be going. And when it's going to to turn around and punch the people who used it in the jaw."
Jun flinched.
"I mean... you know, when not to use it. Right? But he never spends it. He either sits on it or has me do it. Groceries and clothing and a new kettle for tea. He's never satisfied with the kettle and I keep telling him I'll fix it myself but he doesn't want me trying anything since the cat."
"I see," Jun spoke briefly, not wanting to stop her now that he was beginning to understand, if he was even beginning to understand... her point seemed to be lost somewhere in his concern for what kind of horrible situation could occur with a kettle and a cat.
"I go to buy milk the other day and it's more expensive than usual, right? And he says - oh, that's funny, because I was just saying the other day that something was going to have to happen. Something, he says. He knew something."
"And that means?" Jun urged her to continue, a smile playing at his lips. It didn't seem like much of a conversation from an outsider's perspective, but Jun knew they were reaching a conclusion together.
"I don't want him running this country without my help."
Her laughter was loud and full for a moment as she leaned her weight against the shovel, using the tool like a cane. Jun matched her laughter with a brighter smile of his own while he gave himself time to process all that she had told him. For all the great minds he'd dined with, none had been so articulate as she had, and that was truly saying something.
"Your husband," Jun decided, shaking his head in wonder, "is the luckiest man on this earth."
For once in his life, Jun refused to be proper, leaving her with a kiss and an expression of awe. A smile and a tip of his hat as a sign of respect, and Jun went on his way, his heart light.
----
"You let Ohno."
"Yes."
"You let Sho."
"Yes I did."
"You let Nino," Aiba made his final point, and a good one to make at that.
Jun made sure to keep his eyes on his script. If they strayed anywhere to his left, his resolve was sure to crumble.
"They can be trusted to put their hands there and nowhere else," Jun reminded him, ears turning a light shade of red, "and I let you play with my hair when we woke up this morning."
It wouldn't be such a problem if they weren't scheduled to film at any given moment. What seemed like free time was not really free time when a crew member could burst through the door even now, claiming they needed one of them on set.
"Jun," he called, as if someone had placed a heart mark at the end of his name, "I'm going to touch it. C'mere?"
"Not going to happen."
"Let's put it to a vote!" Aiba assumed he could appeal to his bandmates when they returned.
"Masaki's vote doesn't count," Jun immediately shot him down.
"I'm going to touch it," Aiba grew more determined, sneaking closer as if Jun wouldn't be able to tell. He was probably smiling too. Jun didn't have to be looking to see. Aiba was always full of hope like that.
"I'm only working half a day tomorrow. You can touch me all you want then, and no one has to know."
"No one has to know?" Aiba repeated, his tone so soft and sad that Jun couldn't help but turn and look.
Aiba grinned.
Jun rolled his eyes, but it didn't stop Aiba from pressing against him, less a hug than just a way to fit their bodies together.
"Before you ask," Jun spoke against the man's shoulder, his voice muffled but clear enough to matter, "yes, I can hear your heartbeat. It's very nice."
"Oh, is that so?" Aiba responded in a playful voice, "Oh oh oh. I see."
He let Aiba gently nudge his chin up, exaggerating his sigh of defeat. They smiled as Aiba's fingers began to thread through product-perfect locks. They both knew it was going to end up this way. They'd just taken the long road this time.
"You do... don't you?" Aiba asked, just before he leaned in for a kiss.
"Always will," Jun answered simply.
And he probably always had.