[037] Marvelous Things - Arashi (Aiba/Becky)
Title: Marvelous Things
Group: Arashi
Pairing/Genre: Aiba/Becky
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; implied adult situations
Word Count: 2300
Summary: But they're not normal, so these days when Aiba breaks into her apartment and sacrifices his free time just for her and pampers her and makes her feel special? These days are the ones that make it all worth while. Knowing that when she wakes up in the morning, she'll be waking up to him, even if it means getting up an hour earlier so he can sneak out, back to his apartment to shower and change before starting his day. She'll take what she can get.
Notes: Birthday cake fic. :D astrangerenters is evil and accidentally (well, maybe not accidentally) prompted me with this panty-exploding gif. This is much much fluffier than I'd originally anticipated, but. Oh well. :D
•••••
There's a wicked bite in the air, a late cold snap hanging on from winter, as Becky pushes through the doors of her apartment building. Her cheeks and nose are pink from the chill, she just knows it.
"Miss Vaughn," the doorman nods, holding the elevator for her as she shuffles past.
"Hello," she says as brightly as she can manage.
It's been a long few days - back to back photoshoots, promotions, filmings, interviews. Becky knows she should be grateful for it all, and she honestly is, but at the same time, it's exhausting. She longs for a hot bath, a warm cup of tea, and the trashy romance novel that's been sitting on her bedside table, unread, for nearly two months. Leaning heavily against the door to her apartment, Becky feels the last dregs of energy seep out of her like molasses, dripping to the floor through her feet. The mental image kind of grosses her out, but she giggles anyway. Her mother always said she had an odd sense of humor.
Pushing the door open, she's almost annoyed to see Aiba's shoes in the hallway. She adores him, even thinks she might be in love with him, but he requires so much some days and she's not sure she can keep up. Especially not today, when she's already running on fumes and the jacuzzi tub in her bathroom (the only reason she bought this place, to be perfectly honest) is calling her name - softly, and with the promise of candles and aromatherapy.
"Masaki?" she calls tentatively, slipping off her flats and padding through the apartment, coat and scarf still on.
"In here," comes the cheerful reply, suspiciously echoing from the kitchen. Becky hears a crash, a muttered curse and hurries in, dropping her bag next to the chair in the living room on her way.
"What are you…" She stops cold and just stares.
"Happy birthday!" Aiba shouts, exuberant as always. He's wearing her favorite apron, the pink one with little yellow flowers and lavender embroidery with "kiss the cook" written in English across the bodice, and Becky thinks perhaps she does love him a little.
Becky fights a smile and tilts her head to one side, tugging off her scarf and sniffling a little. "My birthday's not for another week, you goober."
"I know," Aiba drawls, sliding across the kitchen floor to wrap her in his long arms and dropping a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. "But this is the only day I have off for the next two weeks with everything going on. I wanted to make sure I got to celebrate with you."
Something warm erupts in Becky's chest and she smiles, full and bright this time. Aiba's arms are warm around her shoulders and she slides her own around his waist, trapping him against her. Her coat is still on, but Becky can't bring herself to care as she leans her head against his chest and listens to his heart for a moment, the steady sound of his breathing. It takes a minute before she realizes something is slightly off in this scenario. Pulling back, she looks up at him suspiciously.
"Are you cooking?"
Aiba's a terrible liar, she thinks, as he looks away and tries not to smile. Becky tugs herself out of his arms and slips off her coat, dropping it on the back of a kitchen chair and settling into it.
"I thought we talked about this, Masaki," she says, finally taking stock of the kitchen. It doesn't look destroyed, anyway, but with Aiba, looks can be deceiving.
"I'm not cooking!" he exclaims, pouting a little and going back to fiddle with something on the stove. "Well, not technically."
Becky levels him with what she has come to call her "Aiba stare" - the look she only uses when he's being sneaky. Jun has a similar one and Becky almost suspects she stole the concept from him.
"Aiba," she starts, exasperated.
"I'm making you a birthday cake, okay?" Aiba says, louder than he probably expected. The tips of his ears are pink and his back is turned, but Becky feels her face melt into something like a smile. "And I know you're giving me that glare you're so fond of, but I was trying to do something nice and not burn down your kitchen…"
"Aiba," Becky says again, her voice softer this time.
"And I missed you and I know you're getting a cold and this was going to be the only time I could see you for a few weeks," he barrels on.
"Aiba," she says a bit louder.
"So I wanted to make tonight special and I even bought you a present and-"
"Masaki!" Becky finally shouts. That worked, she thinks, as he turns to face her, looking a bit like a misbehaving puppy about to have his nose rubbed into something unpleasant. Becky's heart is so full at that moment, she thinks it might burst right out of her chest. "Thank you for making me a cake."
As the words come out of her mouth, they feel all wrong. She should have said she loved him. She should have said thank you for coming here on your one day off to see me even though you're only getting 3 hours of sleep and you'd probably like a nap. Becky thinks maybe she should have said anything but that, but his face lights up anyway and she finds herself smiling back. They've been together for what feels like ages, but is actually only a few months and things, sometimes, are still a bit awkward - like being teenagers instead of adults, bumbling and fumbling through life, trying to find the right words to say. Becky wonders if maybe there ever are the right words to say to Aiba. Or rather, if there are the wrong ones.
"You're welcome," he replies, almost shyly, looking down at the floor. There's a comfortable silence for a moment before something dings behind him. "Ah, it's done!" Aiba pulls the steaming cake from the oven and sets it on top, beaming down at it like a proud father. "Go take a bath while it cools and I'll order us some dinner, yeah?"
Becky slides off the chair and walks back over to wrap her arms around him a second time, leaning against his warm back. "Thank you," she whispers.
His hands, one still covered by an oven mitt, slide up to cover her own around his middle. "You're welcome," he replies softly. Tugging one hand away, he spins to face her and kisses her knuckles. "Off to the bath with you," Aiba says brightly, nudging her with his knee.
The bath is everything Becky had hoped it would be. Aiba had laid out and lit her favorite candles already, her little caddy with the bath salts in it, and her favorite magazine with a note on top - "relax!" scribbled across it in Aiba's loopy, sweet handwriting. She smiles, strips, and settles into the warm water.
Half an hour later, the candles are flickering lifelessly, the bottom third of the magazine is soggy and her fingers and toes have pruned sufficiently. Becky is more relaxed than she's been in weeks, maybe months even. Definitely since before Valentine's Day (when Aiba made her fettucine alfredo and somehow managed to catch himself on fire - the thought was there, but so was the fire department). Slipping out of the water, Becky dries herself off quickly and tugs on her robe.
She can hear Aiba's breathy laugh through the bathroom door and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. Padding down the hall, Becky stops to lean against the doorframe to the living room. Aiba's sitting on the floor in front of the couch, Chinese containers strewn across the coffee table, watching one of Arashi's own shows on the television. The TV version of Aiba gets whacked in the head with a bat and the real one's laugh erupts loudly, forcing the smile on Becky's face to full fruition. She watches him for a moment, wondering how in the world she got saddled with such a lovable idiot when he finally notices her standing there. His smile softens and for a moment, Becky pretends this is every day - that she gets to come home and take a bath and spend the evening with her boyfriend like so many other girls her age. If she were normal, if they were normal, they could go to amusement parks and the movies, to homestyle restaurants and on fabulous mini vacations.
But they're not normal, so these days when Aiba breaks into her apartment and sacrifices his free time just for her and pampers her and makes her feel special? These days are the ones that make it all worth while. Knowing that when she wakes up in the morning, she'll be waking up to him, even if it means getting up an hour earlier so he can sneak out, back to his apartment to shower and change before starting his day. She'll take what she can get.
For now, Becky settles on the floor next to him and Aiba's arm curls around her waist like that's where it belongs.
They watch three episodes of Arashi shows (on different channels, no less) before Aiba decides it's cake time. Ordering her to close her eyes ("no peeking!"), Aiba scurries into the kitchen. Becky can hear him clicking off the lights on his way back in and resists the urge to peek through her fingers. It's only after he's settled back next to her and starts humming "happy birthday" that she's allowed to open her eyes.
It's beautiful, and Becky says as such, tears springing to her eyes. It's a simple round birthday cake, so similar to the dozens sold in stores, but this one has Aiba written all over it. Roughly piped sunflowers dot the edges, strawberries and bits of mango shoved between them haphazardly. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE <3" is written in the middle in that familiar Aiba scrawl.
He insists on cutting her the first piece and gets white frosting everywhere. Aiba licks it off his fingers slowly (almost too slowly) and something familiar shoots through Becky's stomach. She's not sure how it ends up on his nose, but that doesn't stop her from leaning in and licking it off….and then rubbing more on the side of his face. It turns into an all-out battle - Aiba chasing her around the living room with a handful of cake and a dangerous look in his eye. Becky laughs as she trips over her own feet and lands on the couch, then squeaks as Aiba falls after her, the cake landing right on her chest. They both heave heavy breaths for a moment before he pulls back just far enough to wiggle down, cleaning it away with his tongue.
They end up in the shower, Becky's back pressed up against the cool tile as Aiba rubs the loofah slowly from head to toe. She thinks, somewhere in the back of her mind, how amusing it is that this is her second bath of the day, though she might end up dirtier than when she came in, when Aiba does something with his tongue and she no longer cares for water conservation. Aiba does all manner of amazing things with his mouth over the course of the night and Becky thinks how utterly lucky she is to have this silly, beautiful, fantastic man in her life as stars erupt behind her eyes again and again.
They're lying in her big bed, hours before other people their age would even consider sleeping. Aiba's limbs are octopus'ed around her, as usual, and he's snoring lightly in her ear, just barely asleep.
"I love you," she says quietly, stroking his hair from his face and realizing how very true that statement is.
Aiba grins and snuffles a little in his half-sleep. "I know," he murmurs back, before squeaking in protest and laughing as she hits him. Aiba rolls, pinning her beneath him and smiles down at her sleepily.
"I love you, too," he says. "Now, can I go back to sleep?"
"You're such a romantic," she replies, pushing him off to the side and turning her back to him. Her heart and her smile widen as he slips his arms back around her middle. Becky feels Aiba press a kiss to the back of her neck. It's the simple little things like that - the kisses, the candles, her favorite magazine in the bath - that make Becky feel well and truly loved, every day.
"I've loved you since the first moment I met you," he confesses, his voice shy, as if this would be the moment she would reject him, or think him weird. She'll tell him later that she fell for him the first time he held the door for her, the first time he blushed as she murmured a quiet "thank you," the first time she saw him play with puppies. She's fallen in love with him all over again every day since they met.
Becky snuggles down into his arms and smiles, thankful that she has the better part of the year to come up with a present for him. The trashy romance novel still sits neglected on her bedside table, but Becky can't bring herself to care. She has her own romance, and it's better than anyone could ever imagine.
Group: Arashi
Pairing/Genre: Aiba/Becky
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; implied adult situations
Word Count: 2300
Summary: But they're not normal, so these days when Aiba breaks into her apartment and sacrifices his free time just for her and pampers her and makes her feel special? These days are the ones that make it all worth while. Knowing that when she wakes up in the morning, she'll be waking up to him, even if it means getting up an hour earlier so he can sneak out, back to his apartment to shower and change before starting his day. She'll take what she can get.
Notes: Birthday cake fic. :D astrangerenters is evil and accidentally (well, maybe not accidentally) prompted me with this panty-exploding gif. This is much much fluffier than I'd originally anticipated, but. Oh well. :D
•••••
There's a wicked bite in the air, a late cold snap hanging on from winter, as Becky pushes through the doors of her apartment building. Her cheeks and nose are pink from the chill, she just knows it.
"Miss Vaughn," the doorman nods, holding the elevator for her as she shuffles past.
"Hello," she says as brightly as she can manage.
It's been a long few days - back to back photoshoots, promotions, filmings, interviews. Becky knows she should be grateful for it all, and she honestly is, but at the same time, it's exhausting. She longs for a hot bath, a warm cup of tea, and the trashy romance novel that's been sitting on her bedside table, unread, for nearly two months. Leaning heavily against the door to her apartment, Becky feels the last dregs of energy seep out of her like molasses, dripping to the floor through her feet. The mental image kind of grosses her out, but she giggles anyway. Her mother always said she had an odd sense of humor.
Pushing the door open, she's almost annoyed to see Aiba's shoes in the hallway. She adores him, even thinks she might be in love with him, but he requires so much some days and she's not sure she can keep up. Especially not today, when she's already running on fumes and the jacuzzi tub in her bathroom (the only reason she bought this place, to be perfectly honest) is calling her name - softly, and with the promise of candles and aromatherapy.
"Masaki?" she calls tentatively, slipping off her flats and padding through the apartment, coat and scarf still on.
"In here," comes the cheerful reply, suspiciously echoing from the kitchen. Becky hears a crash, a muttered curse and hurries in, dropping her bag next to the chair in the living room on her way.
"What are you…" She stops cold and just stares.
"Happy birthday!" Aiba shouts, exuberant as always. He's wearing her favorite apron, the pink one with little yellow flowers and lavender embroidery with "kiss the cook" written in English across the bodice, and Becky thinks perhaps she does love him a little.
Becky fights a smile and tilts her head to one side, tugging off her scarf and sniffling a little. "My birthday's not for another week, you goober."
"I know," Aiba drawls, sliding across the kitchen floor to wrap her in his long arms and dropping a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. "But this is the only day I have off for the next two weeks with everything going on. I wanted to make sure I got to celebrate with you."
Something warm erupts in Becky's chest and she smiles, full and bright this time. Aiba's arms are warm around her shoulders and she slides her own around his waist, trapping him against her. Her coat is still on, but Becky can't bring herself to care as she leans her head against his chest and listens to his heart for a moment, the steady sound of his breathing. It takes a minute before she realizes something is slightly off in this scenario. Pulling back, she looks up at him suspiciously.
"Are you cooking?"
Aiba's a terrible liar, she thinks, as he looks away and tries not to smile. Becky tugs herself out of his arms and slips off her coat, dropping it on the back of a kitchen chair and settling into it.
"I thought we talked about this, Masaki," she says, finally taking stock of the kitchen. It doesn't look destroyed, anyway, but with Aiba, looks can be deceiving.
"I'm not cooking!" he exclaims, pouting a little and going back to fiddle with something on the stove. "Well, not technically."
Becky levels him with what she has come to call her "Aiba stare" - the look she only uses when he's being sneaky. Jun has a similar one and Becky almost suspects she stole the concept from him.
"Aiba," she starts, exasperated.
"I'm making you a birthday cake, okay?" Aiba says, louder than he probably expected. The tips of his ears are pink and his back is turned, but Becky feels her face melt into something like a smile. "And I know you're giving me that glare you're so fond of, but I was trying to do something nice and not burn down your kitchen…"
"Aiba," Becky says again, her voice softer this time.
"And I missed you and I know you're getting a cold and this was going to be the only time I could see you for a few weeks," he barrels on.
"Aiba," she says a bit louder.
"So I wanted to make tonight special and I even bought you a present and-"
"Masaki!" Becky finally shouts. That worked, she thinks, as he turns to face her, looking a bit like a misbehaving puppy about to have his nose rubbed into something unpleasant. Becky's heart is so full at that moment, she thinks it might burst right out of her chest. "Thank you for making me a cake."
As the words come out of her mouth, they feel all wrong. She should have said she loved him. She should have said thank you for coming here on your one day off to see me even though you're only getting 3 hours of sleep and you'd probably like a nap. Becky thinks maybe she should have said anything but that, but his face lights up anyway and she finds herself smiling back. They've been together for what feels like ages, but is actually only a few months and things, sometimes, are still a bit awkward - like being teenagers instead of adults, bumbling and fumbling through life, trying to find the right words to say. Becky wonders if maybe there ever are the right words to say to Aiba. Or rather, if there are the wrong ones.
"You're welcome," he replies, almost shyly, looking down at the floor. There's a comfortable silence for a moment before something dings behind him. "Ah, it's done!" Aiba pulls the steaming cake from the oven and sets it on top, beaming down at it like a proud father. "Go take a bath while it cools and I'll order us some dinner, yeah?"
Becky slides off the chair and walks back over to wrap her arms around him a second time, leaning against his warm back. "Thank you," she whispers.
His hands, one still covered by an oven mitt, slide up to cover her own around his middle. "You're welcome," he replies softly. Tugging one hand away, he spins to face her and kisses her knuckles. "Off to the bath with you," Aiba says brightly, nudging her with his knee.
The bath is everything Becky had hoped it would be. Aiba had laid out and lit her favorite candles already, her little caddy with the bath salts in it, and her favorite magazine with a note on top - "relax!" scribbled across it in Aiba's loopy, sweet handwriting. She smiles, strips, and settles into the warm water.
Half an hour later, the candles are flickering lifelessly, the bottom third of the magazine is soggy and her fingers and toes have pruned sufficiently. Becky is more relaxed than she's been in weeks, maybe months even. Definitely since before Valentine's Day (when Aiba made her fettucine alfredo and somehow managed to catch himself on fire - the thought was there, but so was the fire department). Slipping out of the water, Becky dries herself off quickly and tugs on her robe.
She can hear Aiba's breathy laugh through the bathroom door and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. Padding down the hall, Becky stops to lean against the doorframe to the living room. Aiba's sitting on the floor in front of the couch, Chinese containers strewn across the coffee table, watching one of Arashi's own shows on the television. The TV version of Aiba gets whacked in the head with a bat and the real one's laugh erupts loudly, forcing the smile on Becky's face to full fruition. She watches him for a moment, wondering how in the world she got saddled with such a lovable idiot when he finally notices her standing there. His smile softens and for a moment, Becky pretends this is every day - that she gets to come home and take a bath and spend the evening with her boyfriend like so many other girls her age. If she were normal, if they were normal, they could go to amusement parks and the movies, to homestyle restaurants and on fabulous mini vacations.
But they're not normal, so these days when Aiba breaks into her apartment and sacrifices his free time just for her and pampers her and makes her feel special? These days are the ones that make it all worth while. Knowing that when she wakes up in the morning, she'll be waking up to him, even if it means getting up an hour earlier so he can sneak out, back to his apartment to shower and change before starting his day. She'll take what she can get.
For now, Becky settles on the floor next to him and Aiba's arm curls around her waist like that's where it belongs.
They watch three episodes of Arashi shows (on different channels, no less) before Aiba decides it's cake time. Ordering her to close her eyes ("no peeking!"), Aiba scurries into the kitchen. Becky can hear him clicking off the lights on his way back in and resists the urge to peek through her fingers. It's only after he's settled back next to her and starts humming "happy birthday" that she's allowed to open her eyes.
It's beautiful, and Becky says as such, tears springing to her eyes. It's a simple round birthday cake, so similar to the dozens sold in stores, but this one has Aiba written all over it. Roughly piped sunflowers dot the edges, strawberries and bits of mango shoved between them haphazardly. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE <3" is written in the middle in that familiar Aiba scrawl.
He insists on cutting her the first piece and gets white frosting everywhere. Aiba licks it off his fingers slowly (almost too slowly) and something familiar shoots through Becky's stomach. She's not sure how it ends up on his nose, but that doesn't stop her from leaning in and licking it off….and then rubbing more on the side of his face. It turns into an all-out battle - Aiba chasing her around the living room with a handful of cake and a dangerous look in his eye. Becky laughs as she trips over her own feet and lands on the couch, then squeaks as Aiba falls after her, the cake landing right on her chest. They both heave heavy breaths for a moment before he pulls back just far enough to wiggle down, cleaning it away with his tongue.
They end up in the shower, Becky's back pressed up against the cool tile as Aiba rubs the loofah slowly from head to toe. She thinks, somewhere in the back of her mind, how amusing it is that this is her second bath of the day, though she might end up dirtier than when she came in, when Aiba does something with his tongue and she no longer cares for water conservation. Aiba does all manner of amazing things with his mouth over the course of the night and Becky thinks how utterly lucky she is to have this silly, beautiful, fantastic man in her life as stars erupt behind her eyes again and again.
They're lying in her big bed, hours before other people their age would even consider sleeping. Aiba's limbs are octopus'ed around her, as usual, and he's snoring lightly in her ear, just barely asleep.
"I love you," she says quietly, stroking his hair from his face and realizing how very true that statement is.
Aiba grins and snuffles a little in his half-sleep. "I know," he murmurs back, before squeaking in protest and laughing as she hits him. Aiba rolls, pinning her beneath him and smiles down at her sleepily.
"I love you, too," he says. "Now, can I go back to sleep?"
"You're such a romantic," she replies, pushing him off to the side and turning her back to him. Her heart and her smile widen as he slips his arms back around her middle. Becky feels Aiba press a kiss to the back of her neck. It's the simple little things like that - the kisses, the candles, her favorite magazine in the bath - that make Becky feel well and truly loved, every day.
"I've loved you since the first moment I met you," he confesses, his voice shy, as if this would be the moment she would reject him, or think him weird. She'll tell him later that she fell for him the first time he held the door for her, the first time he blushed as she murmured a quiet "thank you," the first time she saw him play with puppies. She's fallen in love with him all over again every day since they met.
Becky snuggles down into his arms and smiles, thankful that she has the better part of the year to come up with a present for him. The trashy romance novel still sits neglected on her bedside table, but Becky can't bring herself to care. She has her own romance, and it's better than anyone could ever imagine.