on this night in a million nights
Title: on this night in a million nights
Pairing(s): Ohno/Nino
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1100
Summary: "To seven days," Ohno says then, and raises his bottle to Nino's. "To a week."
A/N: Happy birthday, Neenface! :D As I said in my personal journal, I somehow manage to post a fic every year on Nino's birthday. This year's (sappy and unbeta'd--hey I wanted it to be a surprise!) ficlet takes place in the Encaustic universe. Timeline-wise, let's just stick it a week before Ohno's departure back to Tokyo--so, if you're going by the original sections in Encaustic, this snippet would be wedged between parts 29 and 30. Sort of. Just pretend, ok? Ok. :D (Also--here's where the title comes from! Aka my favorite musical.)
Nino comes over on a night full of stars.
It's almost like the calm skies of Okinawa have been invaded by missionaries of city light from Tokyo. In Ohno's head his two worlds have collided in a sprinkle of twinkling light; neon signs have traveled far from Tokyo to fade out into the constellations Ohno is looking at now. When he stares hard enough into the distance he imagines that the stars are winking, communicating secrets across the galaxy and into this lush space.
And Ohno, who is a little tipsy, listens to each one.
"Listen," he whispers as Nino plops down next to him on the porch. "The stars are talking."
Nino groans. "You're drunk already, aren't you, Oh-chan?"
Ohno thinks about it.
"I don't think so," he finally says, and lifts up the bottle in his hand. Against the naked bulb of the porch light it looks eerie, a caramel-colored glass tube filled with intoxicating foamy liquid. "I haven't had enough."
Or maybe he's had more than he thinks he has. Ohno had wandered out to the porch with a bottle of beer after dinner in order to escape his mother and sister's incessant, chirpy talk of men and marriage. The only thing Ohno wanted to think about was Nino coming over in a couple of hours, clad in nearly nothing, carrying an evening newspaper and that wonderfully familiar smirk.
"I don't understand why you asked me to come over in the middle of your little drinking session," Nino mumbles, and wrestles the drink out of Ohno's grasp before raising it to his lips and taking a long swig. When he swallows, Ohno watches. "Most people invite others to drink with them, you know, for companionship."
He hands the bottle back empty.
"It was okay, being alone for a bit," is all Ohno says, but his fingers say otherwise. They reach out and walk along Nino's elbow, his shoulder, the shell of his left ear before resting for a second against Nino's lips. Ohno can feel them-thin and a little chapped, but damp with alcohol and sweat. Ohno wouldn't mind kissing them, kissing away the taste of beer and salt. "Do you want one?"
Nino grins lazily and Ohno's fingers retreat. "Why do you think I'm here?"
"To pick fruit," says Ohno, and leans in to press a chaste kiss against Nino's bare shoulder. "Or for that, maybe."
"Beer," Nino says, but he's a little breathless. "I came for the beer."
Less than a minute later Ohno's sister notices that there is a guest in the house (or just that Nino is there-he stopped being a guest long ago and started receiving special Nino treatment, which was guest-like but better) and steps out onto the porch with a tray of two more beer bottles, flush with refrigerator chill. Nino thanks her with the politest of smiles and the coyest of looks.
"Are you hitting on my sister?" Ohno asks once her footsteps have faded into the house.
"She probably doesn't drink alone," Nino shoots back, and tilts his head back when he drinks.
For awhile there is only silence. Ohno turns once to catch droplets sliding from the mouth of Nino's bottle to his chin and farther, into the hollow of his neck. Watermelons, beer-clearly there is a reason why Ohno only offers Nino foods with high water content.
"Also," Nino says, this time softer, and when Ohno looks up Nino's face is right there, so close in front of his own. "She'd probably pay attention to the other person she invited over."
Ohno begins to protest, to open his mouth and say that he pays lots of attention to Nino, even when they're apart-sometimes he has dreams that would make a crowd of virgins blush, that would probably leave even Nino speechless for a few seconds-but the words never come. Nino's lips are against his in a matter of seconds, first just a careful brush and then a real kiss that's sweeter than anything that Ohno can think of right now-acerola juice, his toes sunk into wet sand, his mother's strawberry shortcake that she only makes for extra-special occasions.
"I don't want her to pay attention to you like that," Ohno says once the kiss has broken, and Nino throws his head back as he laughs.
"Anyway," Ohno continues, slightly indignant, "I do pay attention to you."
Here Nino's jaw tightens. "Not enough," he says offhandedly, and Ohno can't tell whether he's being serious or not. "Not enough to last me a whole week."
He takes a drink, longer this time, and Ohno realizes that he is being serious-that Nino is scared of seeing Ohno leave. It's strange to see Nino like this, if only because everything he says is usually shrouded by something else, a thin veil of sarcasm and feigned strength that Ohno usually sees peeled away once the sun has gone down and the door has shut behind them.
"Stay tonight?" is all Ohno asks.
It's a quiet plea, one filled with tiny promises that Ohno intends to fulfill-promises of bed-sharing and kisses that last for hours, for days, for weeks if Nino wanted them to. Ohno might be leaving in a week, stepping onto a plane and soaring back to the digitalized, automatic land of Tokyo, but that's seven days from now and this is the first night before the other six. They might as well start this off right.
Nino simply nods.
"To seven days," Ohno says then, and raises his new bottle to Nino's. "To a week."
"You're stupid," Nino says, but he clinks his bottle to Ohno's anyway, and with heart. "To a week, then, Oh-chan."
Three hours and four beers later Nino and Ohno are curled up in bed, sheets tossed off in favor of the night breeze from the window covering them both with sticky island humidity. Nino is mumbling incoherently, something about how a week is too long, or not long enough-Ohno can't really understand him above the jumble of thoughts in his own head. He's concentrating too hard on making this moment last as long as it can, even if they are both close to falling asleep.
Nino gives in first. "'Night, Oh-chan," he mutters all of a sudden, close to Ohno's ear. His voice is nearly gone, already lost to fatigue and a comfortable bed and the soft warmth thrumming between them. "You'll be here in the morning, yeah?"
Ohno finds Nino's hand and tangles it with his own. "Yeah," he breathes, and shuts his eyes. "We'll both be here."
Pairing(s): Ohno/Nino
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1100
Summary: "To seven days," Ohno says then, and raises his bottle to Nino's. "To a week."
A/N: Happy birthday, Neenface! :D As I said in my personal journal, I somehow manage to post a fic every year on Nino's birthday. This year's (sappy and unbeta'd--hey I wanted it to be a surprise!) ficlet takes place in the Encaustic universe. Timeline-wise, let's just stick it a week before Ohno's departure back to Tokyo--so, if you're going by the original sections in Encaustic, this snippet would be wedged between parts 29 and 30. Sort of. Just pretend, ok? Ok. :D (Also--here's where the title comes from! Aka my favorite musical.)
Nino comes over on a night full of stars.
It's almost like the calm skies of Okinawa have been invaded by missionaries of city light from Tokyo. In Ohno's head his two worlds have collided in a sprinkle of twinkling light; neon signs have traveled far from Tokyo to fade out into the constellations Ohno is looking at now. When he stares hard enough into the distance he imagines that the stars are winking, communicating secrets across the galaxy and into this lush space.
And Ohno, who is a little tipsy, listens to each one.
"Listen," he whispers as Nino plops down next to him on the porch. "The stars are talking."
Nino groans. "You're drunk already, aren't you, Oh-chan?"
Ohno thinks about it.
"I don't think so," he finally says, and lifts up the bottle in his hand. Against the naked bulb of the porch light it looks eerie, a caramel-colored glass tube filled with intoxicating foamy liquid. "I haven't had enough."
Or maybe he's had more than he thinks he has. Ohno had wandered out to the porch with a bottle of beer after dinner in order to escape his mother and sister's incessant, chirpy talk of men and marriage. The only thing Ohno wanted to think about was Nino coming over in a couple of hours, clad in nearly nothing, carrying an evening newspaper and that wonderfully familiar smirk.
"I don't understand why you asked me to come over in the middle of your little drinking session," Nino mumbles, and wrestles the drink out of Ohno's grasp before raising it to his lips and taking a long swig. When he swallows, Ohno watches. "Most people invite others to drink with them, you know, for companionship."
He hands the bottle back empty.
"It was okay, being alone for a bit," is all Ohno says, but his fingers say otherwise. They reach out and walk along Nino's elbow, his shoulder, the shell of his left ear before resting for a second against Nino's lips. Ohno can feel them-thin and a little chapped, but damp with alcohol and sweat. Ohno wouldn't mind kissing them, kissing away the taste of beer and salt. "Do you want one?"
Nino grins lazily and Ohno's fingers retreat. "Why do you think I'm here?"
"To pick fruit," says Ohno, and leans in to press a chaste kiss against Nino's bare shoulder. "Or for that, maybe."
"Beer," Nino says, but he's a little breathless. "I came for the beer."
Less than a minute later Ohno's sister notices that there is a guest in the house (or just that Nino is there-he stopped being a guest long ago and started receiving special Nino treatment, which was guest-like but better) and steps out onto the porch with a tray of two more beer bottles, flush with refrigerator chill. Nino thanks her with the politest of smiles and the coyest of looks.
"Are you hitting on my sister?" Ohno asks once her footsteps have faded into the house.
"She probably doesn't drink alone," Nino shoots back, and tilts his head back when he drinks.
For awhile there is only silence. Ohno turns once to catch droplets sliding from the mouth of Nino's bottle to his chin and farther, into the hollow of his neck. Watermelons, beer-clearly there is a reason why Ohno only offers Nino foods with high water content.
"Also," Nino says, this time softer, and when Ohno looks up Nino's face is right there, so close in front of his own. "She'd probably pay attention to the other person she invited over."
Ohno begins to protest, to open his mouth and say that he pays lots of attention to Nino, even when they're apart-sometimes he has dreams that would make a crowd of virgins blush, that would probably leave even Nino speechless for a few seconds-but the words never come. Nino's lips are against his in a matter of seconds, first just a careful brush and then a real kiss that's sweeter than anything that Ohno can think of right now-acerola juice, his toes sunk into wet sand, his mother's strawberry shortcake that she only makes for extra-special occasions.
"I don't want her to pay attention to you like that," Ohno says once the kiss has broken, and Nino throws his head back as he laughs.
"Anyway," Ohno continues, slightly indignant, "I do pay attention to you."
Here Nino's jaw tightens. "Not enough," he says offhandedly, and Ohno can't tell whether he's being serious or not. "Not enough to last me a whole week."
He takes a drink, longer this time, and Ohno realizes that he is being serious-that Nino is scared of seeing Ohno leave. It's strange to see Nino like this, if only because everything he says is usually shrouded by something else, a thin veil of sarcasm and feigned strength that Ohno usually sees peeled away once the sun has gone down and the door has shut behind them.
"Stay tonight?" is all Ohno asks.
It's a quiet plea, one filled with tiny promises that Ohno intends to fulfill-promises of bed-sharing and kisses that last for hours, for days, for weeks if Nino wanted them to. Ohno might be leaving in a week, stepping onto a plane and soaring back to the digitalized, automatic land of Tokyo, but that's seven days from now and this is the first night before the other six. They might as well start this off right.
Nino simply nods.
"To seven days," Ohno says then, and raises his new bottle to Nino's. "To a week."
"You're stupid," Nino says, but he clinks his bottle to Ohno's anyway, and with heart. "To a week, then, Oh-chan."
Three hours and four beers later Nino and Ohno are curled up in bed, sheets tossed off in favor of the night breeze from the window covering them both with sticky island humidity. Nino is mumbling incoherently, something about how a week is too long, or not long enough-Ohno can't really understand him above the jumble of thoughts in his own head. He's concentrating too hard on making this moment last as long as it can, even if they are both close to falling asleep.
Nino gives in first. "'Night, Oh-chan," he mutters all of a sudden, close to Ohno's ear. His voice is nearly gone, already lost to fatigue and a comfortable bed and the soft warmth thrumming between them. "You'll be here in the morning, yeah?"
Ohno finds Nino's hand and tangles it with his own. "Yeah," he breathes, and shuts his eyes. "We'll both be here."