[FIC] flower press. g. arashi, aiba/ohno romance~ 989 words.
Title: Flower Press
Group: Arashi
Pairing/Genre: Aiba/Ohno, ~romance~
Rating: G
Word Count: 989 words
Summary: Nobody else quite understands the freedom of lying in a field, complete silence surrounding them.
Note: Written for my rainbowfilling prompt table! The prompt was "bluebells". I have a Supernatural fic titled the same thing, but my defence is that I have an adorable years-later moment in my head that involves Ohno having saved the flower pressed in his favorite book that he then turns into something for Aiba to keep. YEAH THAT'S RIGHT. I JUST ROMANCED THIS UP EVEN MORE. Thanks, as always, to phrenk for holding my hand and making this better. ♥
The grass is warm beneath them and Aiba feels like giggling as a breeze makes the blades tickle at the back of his neck. Ohno smiles serenely, eyes closed against the late afternoon sun and his hands folded neatly over his middle, letting time wash over him like water. It's a rare moment of respite for both of them, an oasis in the middle of busy schedules and responsibility, something that they choose to share because nobody else quite understands the freedom of lying in a field, complete silence surrounding them.
The sun is setting slowly in the distance when Aiba rolls onto his stomach to look at Ohno. There's a peace on Ohno's face that doesn't come easily to them these days, and it makes Aiba smile, briefly because he knows the moment is fleeting. He spies a patch of purple flowers at arm's length and rolls over to take a closer look. The delicate petals feel like silk against his fingers, and he feels a little bad as he twists the stem in a clean break at the base, but it passes. He returns to his original spot and lays his free hand on top of Ohno's.
Ohno rouses and blinks blearily at Aiba. "Is it time to go?" he asks, and Aiba shakes his head, holding up the purple flower. Ohno's mouth quirks into a smile and he unfolds his hands, fingers curling around Aiba's and pinching the stem. "For me?"
Aiba doesn't let go of the flower for a moment, letting the touch linger, and nods. "I don't think it will last long," he says, though he's not just talking about the flower. Ohno understands, because the sun is lower in the sky than when they arrived, and that means the sand in the hourglass is running low.
Ohno moves so that he's leaning on his side, the hand holding the flower propping him up, and holds Aiba's gaze. "Thank you," he says, but he's not just talking about the flower, either. Aiba ducks his head, and this is always the moment he tries to laugh off, but Ohno won't let him this time. "These are my favorite moments, Masaki," he says, the wind picking up his words and playing with them. "I wouldn't want to spend them with anyone else."
Aiba meets Ohno's eyes again, and the warmth behind them feels better than the warmth of the sun on his back. He nods slowly in agreement, and pitches his voice low so that he can pretend he's not really speaking. "I wish they would last forever." He holds Ohno's gaze for a moment, but the confession fills his stomach with butterflies so he sits up abruptly, turning his back to Ohno and facing the setting sun.
Ohno lets out a short breath. This isn't the first time they've lay in this field, half-confessing things they shouldn't, but it's the last time that Ohno wants to let the moment pass. "You know," he says, moving to sit beside Aiba, "we don't have to leave this here. We can take it with us. Give it some light, feed it. See how it grows." He holds the flower between them, twirling it slowly.
They've never really been talking about the flower.
Nerves seize Aiba's stomach and he shakes his head, focusing on the flower, Ohno's fingers - anything but the way his heart is beating hard and fast in his chest. His feelings for Ohno have never abated, just put aside, because they overwhelm him. His voice feels stuck in his throat, but he manages to whisper, "Isn't it too late for that?"
Ohno looks over at Aiba, still twirling the flower between his fingers. With his hair falling messily into his eyes, Aiba looks much younger than his thirty years. Ohno remembers the young Aiba he first met more than a decade ago, the resentment he used to feel for the constant bubbly exterior, and smiles at the way they've both grown since those days. "I think it's the perfect time," he says, and leans over to press his lips to the corner of Aiba's mouth.
Aiba doesn't move for a moment, paralyzed by his own emotions. He's terrible at doing things in half measures, especially feeling, so he's never let himself entertain the thought that these moments of half-confession might ever lead anywhere. He doesn't want to, still, in case it all comes crashing down around them, but then he looks at Ohno. There's nothing but affection in Ohno's eyes, and Aiba feels nothing but calm, instantly. It's as though Ohno has set him free, and the first thing Aiba can think to do with this freedom is surge forward, crashing his mouth against Ohno's, teeth colliding and lips bruising. It's a clumsy, silly kiss, but it's all Aiba wants, and all that feels right.
Ohno reaches up to press a hand over Aiba's jawline, his fingers gripping the flower stubbornly, and tilts his head just slightly, deepening the kiss in one fluid movement. He had held out for this moment for so long, not out of fear, but because he knew that it would be worth it. Aiba was impatient about silly things - birthdays and good food and new movies - but Ohno knew that neither of them would rush something like this. He knew that when they finally couldn't take it anymore, it would be the right time.
Eventually, the sun before them flirts with the horizon, which only means one thing. Ohno extracts himself from the kiss, finding with some amusement that Aiba seems to have forgotten how to breathe through a kiss. "It's time to go, Aiba-chan," he says, running a thumb over Aiba's swollen lower lip.
Aiba nods, reaching to press his hand over Ohno's on his cheek. "Don't forget to bring the flower," he says, his small smile breaking into a grin that he fears might be permanent.
Group: Arashi
Pairing/Genre: Aiba/Ohno, ~romance~
Rating: G
Word Count: 989 words
Summary: Nobody else quite understands the freedom of lying in a field, complete silence surrounding them.
Note: Written for my rainbowfilling prompt table! The prompt was "bluebells". I have a Supernatural fic titled the same thing, but my defence is that I have an adorable years-later moment in my head that involves Ohno having saved the flower pressed in his favorite book that he then turns into something for Aiba to keep. YEAH THAT'S RIGHT. I JUST ROMANCED THIS UP EVEN MORE. Thanks, as always, to phrenk for holding my hand and making this better. ♥
The grass is warm beneath them and Aiba feels like giggling as a breeze makes the blades tickle at the back of his neck. Ohno smiles serenely, eyes closed against the late afternoon sun and his hands folded neatly over his middle, letting time wash over him like water. It's a rare moment of respite for both of them, an oasis in the middle of busy schedules and responsibility, something that they choose to share because nobody else quite understands the freedom of lying in a field, complete silence surrounding them.
The sun is setting slowly in the distance when Aiba rolls onto his stomach to look at Ohno. There's a peace on Ohno's face that doesn't come easily to them these days, and it makes Aiba smile, briefly because he knows the moment is fleeting. He spies a patch of purple flowers at arm's length and rolls over to take a closer look. The delicate petals feel like silk against his fingers, and he feels a little bad as he twists the stem in a clean break at the base, but it passes. He returns to his original spot and lays his free hand on top of Ohno's.
Ohno rouses and blinks blearily at Aiba. "Is it time to go?" he asks, and Aiba shakes his head, holding up the purple flower. Ohno's mouth quirks into a smile and he unfolds his hands, fingers curling around Aiba's and pinching the stem. "For me?"
Aiba doesn't let go of the flower for a moment, letting the touch linger, and nods. "I don't think it will last long," he says, though he's not just talking about the flower. Ohno understands, because the sun is lower in the sky than when they arrived, and that means the sand in the hourglass is running low.
Ohno moves so that he's leaning on his side, the hand holding the flower propping him up, and holds Aiba's gaze. "Thank you," he says, but he's not just talking about the flower, either. Aiba ducks his head, and this is always the moment he tries to laugh off, but Ohno won't let him this time. "These are my favorite moments, Masaki," he says, the wind picking up his words and playing with them. "I wouldn't want to spend them with anyone else."
Aiba meets Ohno's eyes again, and the warmth behind them feels better than the warmth of the sun on his back. He nods slowly in agreement, and pitches his voice low so that he can pretend he's not really speaking. "I wish they would last forever." He holds Ohno's gaze for a moment, but the confession fills his stomach with butterflies so he sits up abruptly, turning his back to Ohno and facing the setting sun.
Ohno lets out a short breath. This isn't the first time they've lay in this field, half-confessing things they shouldn't, but it's the last time that Ohno wants to let the moment pass. "You know," he says, moving to sit beside Aiba, "we don't have to leave this here. We can take it with us. Give it some light, feed it. See how it grows." He holds the flower between them, twirling it slowly.
They've never really been talking about the flower.
Nerves seize Aiba's stomach and he shakes his head, focusing on the flower, Ohno's fingers - anything but the way his heart is beating hard and fast in his chest. His feelings for Ohno have never abated, just put aside, because they overwhelm him. His voice feels stuck in his throat, but he manages to whisper, "Isn't it too late for that?"
Ohno looks over at Aiba, still twirling the flower between his fingers. With his hair falling messily into his eyes, Aiba looks much younger than his thirty years. Ohno remembers the young Aiba he first met more than a decade ago, the resentment he used to feel for the constant bubbly exterior, and smiles at the way they've both grown since those days. "I think it's the perfect time," he says, and leans over to press his lips to the corner of Aiba's mouth.
Aiba doesn't move for a moment, paralyzed by his own emotions. He's terrible at doing things in half measures, especially feeling, so he's never let himself entertain the thought that these moments of half-confession might ever lead anywhere. He doesn't want to, still, in case it all comes crashing down around them, but then he looks at Ohno. There's nothing but affection in Ohno's eyes, and Aiba feels nothing but calm, instantly. It's as though Ohno has set him free, and the first thing Aiba can think to do with this freedom is surge forward, crashing his mouth against Ohno's, teeth colliding and lips bruising. It's a clumsy, silly kiss, but it's all Aiba wants, and all that feels right.
Ohno reaches up to press a hand over Aiba's jawline, his fingers gripping the flower stubbornly, and tilts his head just slightly, deepening the kiss in one fluid movement. He had held out for this moment for so long, not out of fear, but because he knew that it would be worth it. Aiba was impatient about silly things - birthdays and good food and new movies - but Ohno knew that neither of them would rush something like this. He knew that when they finally couldn't take it anymore, it would be the right time.
Eventually, the sun before them flirts with the horizon, which only means one thing. Ohno extracts himself from the kiss, finding with some amusement that Aiba seems to have forgotten how to breathe through a kiss. "It's time to go, Aiba-chan," he says, running a thumb over Aiba's swollen lower lip.
Aiba nods, reaching to press his hand over Ohno's on his cheek. "Don't forget to bring the flower," he says, his small smile breaking into a grin that he fears might be permanent.