Jun's Birthday Fic
Title: Friends and Birthdays
Pairing: JunMa
Rating: G
Note: Just something that hit me. I wasn't going to write a birthday fic. I think writing two Jun's beats everything but yeah still felt I should write something
There was a time in Jun’s life when birthdays meant sneaking out to have a drink at Ohno’s because he was the only legal one of them, being loud, dancing, girls, their soft skin and sinful, surreptitious nights that the paparazzi could not find out about.
As the birthdays gradually passed the more conventional celebrations lost its appeal, Jun himself grew more pensive and introverted, he thought it was a gradual progression, maybe this was what people called aging. Grey hairs scared him beyond his wits but growing old in this way was not half bad.
On this particular birthday he was glad to have an off day and that smiling in front of cameras and staff and accepting flowers weren’t a part of the routine. Other than the tirade of messages flooding his phone and mail there really was nothing getting between him and his pristinely furnished apartment with its famous talking equipments.
He was contemplating between the lazy couch television surfing and a hot bath - his conversations with the bath was particularly cheery - when the bell rang.
Jun couldn’t really say that he was altogether surprised to see Arashi, Shun and Toma on the other side of the door when he opened it but a broad grin broke across his face and he spluttered and finally let them in.
There was Nino holding a bag full of takeout, it looked almost as big as he did and probably weighed more. Nino always insisted on giving birthday treats, he felt it automatically exempted him from other sorts of treats which included expensive things like alcohol.
Naturally Aiba came with the drinks because what is birthdays without a little merriment? Aiba has become awfully depressed over the fact that Jun seemed to have lost his interest in the flavours of life over the recent years.
They sit down to a pleasant meal, Sho joins in late because he had skipped down to the kitchen to put the cake in the freezer. Shun keeps up a lively chatter around the group and even Ohno nods slightly to the things he says.
There is much laughter and all the elements that makes up for a good birthday, a good time with people he has spent most of his life with, people with whom he’s grown up.
Toma’s infectious laughter fills the room and everyone joins in the chortles no matter if they know the reason or not. A few beer cans are rolling on the floor, far fewer than seven grown men should have produced after a celebration and the sake bottle is almost empty. Aiba toasts the last sip to Jun then downs it himself.
The cake fight could be due to the fact that they are all a little tipsy and more prone to acting silly than normal but mostly its because they need an excuse to act silly, to scream and fight and grapple at each other’s elbows while trying to paint each other’s face with cake.
Eventually, the time for it to be his birthday no more approached and everyone got up with different excuses, filming, interviews, to catch the train. One by one they trooped out, some dabbing at their faces to get the cake out and Aiba offering to lick them clean, he manages to lick Ohno; he giggles and licks back. Jun threatens to throw them out if they’re not gone in the next five minutes.
Only Toma is there and for a moment Jun didn’t notice he didn’t leave with the rest because he’s behind the couch picking up discarded beer bottles and utensils. Jun stops him, tells him its alright. He doesn’t need to clean just to stay but Toma shakes his head tells him he’s staying to clean up.
Jun nods lets him help, even if it means he can’t really put cleaning off till tomorrow like he’d planned originally. He’s not a cleaning up sort of person and he lets Toma take the lead for the most part. Listens to him while he recounts how he had to clean dishes each night at his house because he could never help out in the kitchen where cooking or even cutting vegetables were concerned.
Jun’s heard this story before but its late and he doesn’t want to search his brain to start a separate conversation. Toma’s voice is deep and it becomes kind of annoyingly and uncharacteristically high whenever he gets too excited and he tends to do that a lot but he’s used to such an unusual voice recounting countless of stories to him, sometimes the same twice like he is now and it calms him down. It reminds him of the familiar mechanic sound of his bath telling him the water is ready for him. It instills in him a feeling that is similar, of home and comfort and warm water against his aching limbs slowly flowing over the knots in his muscles and relaxing them.
Jun feels relaxed.
Jun dozes off under Toma’s repetitive story, not because he’s bored but because he knows he can; because when tomorrow comes Toma won’t be offended demand an explanation or apologize for imposing on him. Because Toma knows its neither of those.
His eyes shoot open suddenly at a clattering noise and he’s just in time to catch Toma stuffing the china in the wrong cabinet, he sighs. Realizes Toma probably doesn’t know everything, tries not to blame him and grabs the plates to arrange them in a fashion that is more conventional to the setting of his kitchen.
Toma chuckles and bounds off with a mock apology.
When Jun is done and ready to proceed to bed he finds Toma sleeping on the couch, looking content and happy. It fills Jun with an indescribable feeling, like a liquid filling up the hollows of his heart. It reflects how Toma makes do with and enjoys whatever he can get his hands on. Jun is proud to know this. He feels privileged in a way to have known Toma’s struggles and to see him through his achievements.
Jun doesn’t have the heart to wake him up. He throws a blanket over him instead before engaging in the daily rituals preceding to bedtime.
He slips into bed and pulls up the covers, snuggles and stretches before turning of the bedside light.
He can’t sleep.
Something nags at him, at this ungodly hour of the night (morning)
He gets out of bed and checks the fridge for milk.
It’s there.
He loiters in the kitchen for a while, clad in his pyjamas, the nagging still persistent.
Jun sets the cereal box and a bowl out and goes to bed.
Pairing: JunMa
Rating: G
Note: Just something that hit me. I wasn't going to write a birthday fic. I think writing two Jun's beats everything but yeah still felt I should write something
There was a time in Jun’s life when birthdays meant sneaking out to have a drink at Ohno’s because he was the only legal one of them, being loud, dancing, girls, their soft skin and sinful, surreptitious nights that the paparazzi could not find out about.
As the birthdays gradually passed the more conventional celebrations lost its appeal, Jun himself grew more pensive and introverted, he thought it was a gradual progression, maybe this was what people called aging. Grey hairs scared him beyond his wits but growing old in this way was not half bad.
On this particular birthday he was glad to have an off day and that smiling in front of cameras and staff and accepting flowers weren’t a part of the routine. Other than the tirade of messages flooding his phone and mail there really was nothing getting between him and his pristinely furnished apartment with its famous talking equipments.
He was contemplating between the lazy couch television surfing and a hot bath - his conversations with the bath was particularly cheery - when the bell rang.
Jun couldn’t really say that he was altogether surprised to see Arashi, Shun and Toma on the other side of the door when he opened it but a broad grin broke across his face and he spluttered and finally let them in.
There was Nino holding a bag full of takeout, it looked almost as big as he did and probably weighed more. Nino always insisted on giving birthday treats, he felt it automatically exempted him from other sorts of treats which included expensive things like alcohol.
Naturally Aiba came with the drinks because what is birthdays without a little merriment? Aiba has become awfully depressed over the fact that Jun seemed to have lost his interest in the flavours of life over the recent years.
They sit down to a pleasant meal, Sho joins in late because he had skipped down to the kitchen to put the cake in the freezer. Shun keeps up a lively chatter around the group and even Ohno nods slightly to the things he says.
There is much laughter and all the elements that makes up for a good birthday, a good time with people he has spent most of his life with, people with whom he’s grown up.
Toma’s infectious laughter fills the room and everyone joins in the chortles no matter if they know the reason or not. A few beer cans are rolling on the floor, far fewer than seven grown men should have produced after a celebration and the sake bottle is almost empty. Aiba toasts the last sip to Jun then downs it himself.
The cake fight could be due to the fact that they are all a little tipsy and more prone to acting silly than normal but mostly its because they need an excuse to act silly, to scream and fight and grapple at each other’s elbows while trying to paint each other’s face with cake.
Eventually, the time for it to be his birthday no more approached and everyone got up with different excuses, filming, interviews, to catch the train. One by one they trooped out, some dabbing at their faces to get the cake out and Aiba offering to lick them clean, he manages to lick Ohno; he giggles and licks back. Jun threatens to throw them out if they’re not gone in the next five minutes.
Only Toma is there and for a moment Jun didn’t notice he didn’t leave with the rest because he’s behind the couch picking up discarded beer bottles and utensils. Jun stops him, tells him its alright. He doesn’t need to clean just to stay but Toma shakes his head tells him he’s staying to clean up.
Jun nods lets him help, even if it means he can’t really put cleaning off till tomorrow like he’d planned originally. He’s not a cleaning up sort of person and he lets Toma take the lead for the most part. Listens to him while he recounts how he had to clean dishes each night at his house because he could never help out in the kitchen where cooking or even cutting vegetables were concerned.
Jun’s heard this story before but its late and he doesn’t want to search his brain to start a separate conversation. Toma’s voice is deep and it becomes kind of annoyingly and uncharacteristically high whenever he gets too excited and he tends to do that a lot but he’s used to such an unusual voice recounting countless of stories to him, sometimes the same twice like he is now and it calms him down. It reminds him of the familiar mechanic sound of his bath telling him the water is ready for him. It instills in him a feeling that is similar, of home and comfort and warm water against his aching limbs slowly flowing over the knots in his muscles and relaxing them.
Jun feels relaxed.
Jun dozes off under Toma’s repetitive story, not because he’s bored but because he knows he can; because when tomorrow comes Toma won’t be offended demand an explanation or apologize for imposing on him. Because Toma knows its neither of those.
His eyes shoot open suddenly at a clattering noise and he’s just in time to catch Toma stuffing the china in the wrong cabinet, he sighs. Realizes Toma probably doesn’t know everything, tries not to blame him and grabs the plates to arrange them in a fashion that is more conventional to the setting of his kitchen.
Toma chuckles and bounds off with a mock apology.
When Jun is done and ready to proceed to bed he finds Toma sleeping on the couch, looking content and happy. It fills Jun with an indescribable feeling, like a liquid filling up the hollows of his heart. It reflects how Toma makes do with and enjoys whatever he can get his hands on. Jun is proud to know this. He feels privileged in a way to have known Toma’s struggles and to see him through his achievements.
Jun doesn’t have the heart to wake him up. He throws a blanket over him instead before engaging in the daily rituals preceding to bedtime.
He slips into bed and pulls up the covers, snuggles and stretches before turning of the bedside light.
He can’t sleep.
Something nags at him, at this ungodly hour of the night (morning)
He gets out of bed and checks the fridge for milk.
It’s there.
He loiters in the kitchen for a while, clad in his pyjamas, the nagging still persistent.
Jun sets the cereal box and a bowl out and goes to bed.