Slight Chance of Snow -- junnosuke's Request
To: junnosuke
From: Secret Santa
Pairing: JinDa (Akanishi Jin/Ueda Tatsuya idc which order)
Genre: Smut, fluff, anything non-AU.
Rating: Anything, but NC-17 is best, of course.
Short summary: Anything. Bonus points if it's related to their Real Face days or talks about the hip thrusting from them.
Other little tidbits: Non-AU and wonderful grammar are pluses.
SLIGHT CHANCE OF SNOW
“And cut!”
Movement stops for a moment and someone shouts “Nature call!” and a short break begins.
He drifts to the warehouse door, past the voices, the crew and the equipment and peers into the grey. Grey hills, grey drive, grey light. The sky is heavy with snow about to fall. Away from the heaters and wearing only the odd raiment required for the video he feels a chill on the bare skin of his arms. Two birds fly by silhouetted darkly against the wan color of the clouds.
“It makes you think of things that will never happen.” He hears someone say quietly, someone standing suddenly so close that he is nearly startled. When he sees it is Ueda who has spoken he is no longer surprised by either the stealth of his appearance nor the oddity of his observation. But Jin recoups and considers. With Ueda there is time to think before answering. It’s never just banter or one-upmanship but real conversation, somehow like fencing or walking through woods with lights of revelation flickering periodically through the dense foliage of everyday life, everyday ignorances.
“Um, I think of sad things when it gets like this. I think of the past,” he says. Ueda looks out the large door as well. His mouth is not curved upwards but his face conveys a smile somehow, or at least amusement. Then he realizes that this is most likely exactly what Ueda meant. Things that would never happen, like changing the past or had he meant something other than that? Ueda made him think and it was like taking steps into a shadowed attic with a lantern in hand, bringing light.
“I think,” Ueda says and Jin feels because he has now returned his attention to the cloud-laden sky that the other man is watching him. His heart begins to pick up speed and he wonders why and then is answered as the dark-haired mystery of a man continues. “…in our portion of the dance, you hesitate.”
“I, I do?” he questions though he knows it’s true. He knows exactly what Ueda means because he is aware he does it each and every take, every time. He tries not to look for a reaction and each time Ueda obliges by turning his face to the left. Each take it is the same, turn to the left. That mysterious face, that enigmatic expression - and Jin asks himself ‘what is he thinking?’ What if I should slip, or what if, in some other context I should slow or stop my hand and what if I touched him? Would he look at me in some other way, or some way that he never has? But the grey sky doesn’t surrender any clues.
When the break is over they find their way back to the set and he becomes engrossed once again in the scene. They are going to shoot other members’ sequences. He can sit down for a moment before they gather again for group work. He sits by the heater and closes his eyes. He falls into a daydream where dark birds dip daringly close to forbidden islands. Grey tendrils waft and swirl through night scenes of impending storms.
“Jin,” someone says and he awakens reluctantly. He realizes he is aroused and he clears his throat and stands up quickly trying to cover himself with a shirt he seizes quickly from one of the nearby chairs. It’s time again and he looks for Ueda and sees he is already in place. The others are waiting also and he jogs the few steps over to join them. They test the boom camera and it glides overhead and then slides back and he thinks he’d better watch himself or he’d be revealing confused expressions on the video. The music starts, the dance begins and at one minute into it plus a few more seconds and they turn and are standing in their places, and he lifts his right hand and tries not to hesitate. But he does the smooth downward stroke the same as every other time. Now, though he knows that they are working and it’s just a scene, just a movement, he does hesitate, a micro second. And as He turns his head to the left always the left he flashes a look that makes Jin feel transparent.
What is it that I want he wonders. And he wonders as he rides home tiredly after the whole shoot is over and he asks himself again as falls his own bed, alone but not until his thumb brushes across his sensitive skin and he sighs into slumbers.
The next day is again more of the same. And again, at the warehouse door they stand close together. The sky looks much less heavy now. It has unburdened itself partially overnight and the ground is painted lightly with white as are the trees and bushes, cars and even the fence along the road leading to the back of the warehouse where they are standing, peering. From the slanting shadows and the nearly salty hiss of the wind there is more to come.
Ueda comes alongside him like a car that moves into position to pass on the highway. Yet he hovers there. And for whatever reason, he feels like the unsettled sky, like something important is waiting to occur. The director wants to get a few more takes to choose from for his final product. So they take their places and they face each other as the script demands. The music begins and they move closer. Ueda drops his gaze and Jin raises his hand, curving his fingers as graceful as a fan. He runs them, only a few inches away from actual contact, down the length of Ueda’s body. They bend their knees in synch. He puts his hand up on his hip and undulates, one smooth roll and then a second. There is an answering movement and the sequence is nearly ended.
It was fanservice, simulated sex. It was meant to be the talking point of the video. But there was something else behind it. And when Jin looked up at that last second, Ueda doesn’t turn his head left but his eyes of darkest brown are burning up into Jin’s. Both of them step back. They run through the performance this last time and the day wraps early. Someone says something about a storm front moving in.
Heading back to the vans, they pass the large door again and Jin slows his pace. Beside him, as if bidden, Ueda lingers as well.
“Tat-chan,” he says as quietly as he can without attracting anyone else’s attentions. He knows over his thundering heartbeat that he’s not talking to the Ueda who is a dancer, or a co-worker or even the Ueda who writes soulful lyrics or smiles mysterious smiles that make his face somehow more radiant than the most beautiful face Jin can imagine. He is talking to the Ueda who can say such things as ‘clouds make me see the past and the future’, the Ueda who makes him think there is worth in every one of his own ideas and utterances, the Ueda who somehow makes him feel important even when he has no words to share at all.
“Tat-chan,” he stumbles. “I,…” he breathes and like a sigh lets his heart push out the next words. “I want to touch you.” And when it is finally out, they have approached the exit and step out, almost together. It has begun to snow but Jin doesn’t notice since Ueda has put his hand gently to Jin’s arm as he smiles his mysterious smile and says, “I know.”