[FIC] Arashi - Ohmiya Drabbles (Set Six)
Title: teeny tidbits of whimsy and schmoop (set six)
Fandom: Arashi
Pairing: Ohno/Ninomiya
Rating: In order: G, PG, G, PG, G
Disclaimer: Not associated with Johnny's Entertainment. This is fiction; it never happened.
A/N: #3 (they say in heaven, love comes first) takes place in the same 'verse as a NEWS fic I did a long time ago. ( Link). It's not necessary to read that first.
#4 (and now for something completely different) is Enomiya and is 100% for darkdropout, who wrote a darling fic (link) based on my prompt and loves the idea of these dorks together just as much as I do. I figured I'd return the favor. Never enough Enomiya, right??
Also on AO3 (Link)
love so sweet
Ohno comes in every morning at seven to grab a pastry and a coffee on his way to work. Nino both loves and hates him for this.
“Good morning, Nino,” Ohno greets, the air of someone that has been up since five AM in order to fish floating around him with little sparkles. Nino garbles out a particularly incoherent reply and slumps against the counter. Ohno laughs and pats his head. “Up late playing video games again, huh?”
“Nghhh,” Nino says. Ohno nods as if this makes sense and shuffles off to place his order with Jun. By the time he returns, Nino has managed to crawl his way into just enough wakefulness to form sentences. “Why do you have to have work so early?” He demands, already ringing up Ohno’s usual purchase.
“I get sleepy in the afternoons,” Ohno tells him.
“You get sleepy whenever you stand still for five minutes.” Nino points out.
Ohno laughs, unoffended, and Nino smiles to himself. His heart absolutely does not skip a beat, thank you very much.
“See you tomorrow?” Ohno offers as he takes his breakfast in hand.
Nino ducks his head to hide his pleased expression. “Tomorrow,” he agrees.
***
go straight to happy-ever-after
Ohno wakes up the next morning to an empty bed and sounds coming from his kitchen. He blinks sleepily against the sun, then rolls out of bed and slips into a pair of boxers left haphazardly strewn across his floor. He makes his way to the bathroom first, then down the hall. He stops in the kitchen doorway.
Nino is there. Still there, when Ohno had half-imagined he’d be gone by morning. Instead, he’s standing at Ohno’s stove, wearing Ohno’s shirt and nothing else as he nudges something with a spatula. His hair is sleep-mussed and adorable. The neck of Ohno’s shirt sits unevenly on his shoulder, revealing a patch of skin that Ohno has vivid memories of tasting and biting the night before.
“I know you’re back there,” Nino says, though he doesn’t turn to look.
Ohno grins and goes to join him. He wraps his arms around Nino’s middle and hooks his chin over his shoulder. Nino relaxes back against him. They rock together for a moment. Now that he’s closer, Ohno can see what Nino’s cooking: pancakes.
“No awkward Morning After?” Ohno inquires.
Nino smiles and gives a tiny laugh. “I thought we’d skip that part.”
Ohno hums and presses his lips to that same patch of skin he’d spied a moment ago. He inhales the scent of Nino and Nino in the morning and Nino wearing his clothes. He grins when Nino shudders under his attention.
“Okay,” he agrees, and Nino covers his hands with one of his own, squeezing briefly.
***
they say in heaven, love comes first
Nino, as it turns out, is kind of a terrible angel.
“Hey!”
Ohno snickers and continues to sketch out the general shape of the bright gold wings that are currently spread out over his bed. They really are stunning. Ohno can spend hours on end just staring at them, tracing his eyes along the contours of each feather and joint with dedicated fascination. Nino seems self-conscious about them, will blush and look away under Ohno’s attention, but ever since that first day when Ohno asked him not to hide them, he’s left them out in the open whenever they’re alone.
Ohno’s fingers itch to touch. Thus far, he hasn’t been able to work up the nerve.
“It’s true, though,” he points out. Nino huffs, turns his face so he’s looking away from Ohno.
“You don’t have to say it like that,” he mutters, petulant. He’s quiet for a bit, but Ohno can feel a tension in the air that wasn’t there a moment ago. So he waits, adding some light crosshatching to his sketch. Finally, Nino seems to find the words: “I can, you know. If… if you want me to, I can.”
Ohno looks at him. Nino is still refusing to meet his eyes, but Ohno knows he’s being sincere. He would, if Ohno asked him to: complete his mission, do what it was he was sent down here to do.
“If you did,” Ohno says, “you’d have to leave.”
Nino’s breath hitches. He gives a jerky nod.
Ohno smiles. “Then no,” he says. “Not just yet.”
Maybe, he thinks to himself, not ever.
***
and now for something completely different
Enomoto has begun to describe his life in two phases: Before Nino and After Nino.
Before Nino is easier to categorize than After Nino. Before Nino, Enomoto’s life is easy. He wakes up, he eats breakfast, he goes to work, he tinkers with his locks, he comes home. Simple. Neat.
After Nino is… less so.
“I have work,” Enomoto says, insistent, as if this should be enough to dissuade the young man wrapped tightly around him.
“Skip it,” Nino encourages. The words are mouthed right against Enomoto’s skin in a way that draws a shiver out of him against his will. “You’ve got plenty of vacation days; I know you never use them.”
“But.” Enomoto begins. He means to finish, but Nino’s fingers snake up to remove his glasses and Nino’s mouth moves from the skin of his shoulder to the skin of his neck. It suddenly becomes a great deal harder to find the right words. By the time Nino is done with him, Enomoto is so thoroughly late that he may as well not go in, and Nino is curled against his chest with a satisfied smirk.
They don’t get up for breakfast; instead they have an early lunch in bed. When they’re done, they relocate to the couch, where Nino allows Enomoto to find a lock to fuss with while he slumps against Enomoto’s side and plays with his video games.
After Nino is a difficult thing, because every day After Nino is different. Nino is barely-controlled chaos in a tiny, snark-filled form. Routine is meaningless with him. Enomoto barely has time to keep pace, let alone plan ahead.
It is, Enomoto thinks as his lock clicks open far sooner than he expects, perhaps the better way to live.
***
bear with me (I’m fragile)
“I’m a space pirate,” Nino says the first time Ohno asks, evasive and a firm believer in never giving too much away on a first date. “You caught me on shore leave.”
Ohno grins and asks, unashamedly, about his latest booty capture.
It’s dumb. Nino laughs anyway and feels a little of the tension in him ease.
*
“A secret agent,” Nino says the next time, months and many dates later, when they are waiting for their movie to start and Ohno has been trying - and failing - to subtly shuffle closer to Nino for a few moments now. “I could tell you more, but I’d have to kill you.”
“That’s okay,” Ohno says, and gives up any hope of casual disinterest with the way that he finally plasters himself to Nino’s side. “I like the mystery.”
Nino turns to stare at him. He looks for so long that he misses the start of the film entirely.
*
“I compose,” Nino says, the last time Ohno asks him. They are in his apartment and Ohno is staring at his piano with fascination. Nino feels heat in his cheeks and a pressure in his chest. He ducks his head and looks up at Ohno shyly, nervous as he shuffles the half-finished songs and blank sheet music in his hands before finally setting them aside.
Ohno smiles in that way that lights up his whole face. “Can I hear one?” He asks, his hand reaching out with confidence to capture one of Nino’s.
Nino exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He threads their fingers together and nods.
Fandom: Arashi
Pairing: Ohno/Ninomiya
Rating: In order: G, PG, G, PG, G
Disclaimer: Not associated with Johnny's Entertainment. This is fiction; it never happened.
A/N: #3 (they say in heaven, love comes first) takes place in the same 'verse as a NEWS fic I did a long time ago. ( Link). It's not necessary to read that first.
#4 (and now for something completely different) is Enomiya and is 100% for darkdropout, who wrote a darling fic (link) based on my prompt and loves the idea of these dorks together just as much as I do. I figured I'd return the favor. Never enough Enomiya, right??
Also on AO3 (Link)
love so sweet
Ohno comes in every morning at seven to grab a pastry and a coffee on his way to work. Nino both loves and hates him for this.
“Good morning, Nino,” Ohno greets, the air of someone that has been up since five AM in order to fish floating around him with little sparkles. Nino garbles out a particularly incoherent reply and slumps against the counter. Ohno laughs and pats his head. “Up late playing video games again, huh?”
“Nghhh,” Nino says. Ohno nods as if this makes sense and shuffles off to place his order with Jun. By the time he returns, Nino has managed to crawl his way into just enough wakefulness to form sentences. “Why do you have to have work so early?” He demands, already ringing up Ohno’s usual purchase.
“I get sleepy in the afternoons,” Ohno tells him.
“You get sleepy whenever you stand still for five minutes.” Nino points out.
Ohno laughs, unoffended, and Nino smiles to himself. His heart absolutely does not skip a beat, thank you very much.
“See you tomorrow?” Ohno offers as he takes his breakfast in hand.
Nino ducks his head to hide his pleased expression. “Tomorrow,” he agrees.
***
go straight to happy-ever-after
Ohno wakes up the next morning to an empty bed and sounds coming from his kitchen. He blinks sleepily against the sun, then rolls out of bed and slips into a pair of boxers left haphazardly strewn across his floor. He makes his way to the bathroom first, then down the hall. He stops in the kitchen doorway.
Nino is there. Still there, when Ohno had half-imagined he’d be gone by morning. Instead, he’s standing at Ohno’s stove, wearing Ohno’s shirt and nothing else as he nudges something with a spatula. His hair is sleep-mussed and adorable. The neck of Ohno’s shirt sits unevenly on his shoulder, revealing a patch of skin that Ohno has vivid memories of tasting and biting the night before.
“I know you’re back there,” Nino says, though he doesn’t turn to look.
Ohno grins and goes to join him. He wraps his arms around Nino’s middle and hooks his chin over his shoulder. Nino relaxes back against him. They rock together for a moment. Now that he’s closer, Ohno can see what Nino’s cooking: pancakes.
“No awkward Morning After?” Ohno inquires.
Nino smiles and gives a tiny laugh. “I thought we’d skip that part.”
Ohno hums and presses his lips to that same patch of skin he’d spied a moment ago. He inhales the scent of Nino and Nino in the morning and Nino wearing his clothes. He grins when Nino shudders under his attention.
“Okay,” he agrees, and Nino covers his hands with one of his own, squeezing briefly.
***
they say in heaven, love comes first
Nino, as it turns out, is kind of a terrible angel.
“Hey!”
Ohno snickers and continues to sketch out the general shape of the bright gold wings that are currently spread out over his bed. They really are stunning. Ohno can spend hours on end just staring at them, tracing his eyes along the contours of each feather and joint with dedicated fascination. Nino seems self-conscious about them, will blush and look away under Ohno’s attention, but ever since that first day when Ohno asked him not to hide them, he’s left them out in the open whenever they’re alone.
Ohno’s fingers itch to touch. Thus far, he hasn’t been able to work up the nerve.
“It’s true, though,” he points out. Nino huffs, turns his face so he’s looking away from Ohno.
“You don’t have to say it like that,” he mutters, petulant. He’s quiet for a bit, but Ohno can feel a tension in the air that wasn’t there a moment ago. So he waits, adding some light crosshatching to his sketch. Finally, Nino seems to find the words: “I can, you know. If… if you want me to, I can.”
Ohno looks at him. Nino is still refusing to meet his eyes, but Ohno knows he’s being sincere. He would, if Ohno asked him to: complete his mission, do what it was he was sent down here to do.
“If you did,” Ohno says, “you’d have to leave.”
Nino’s breath hitches. He gives a jerky nod.
Ohno smiles. “Then no,” he says. “Not just yet.”
Maybe, he thinks to himself, not ever.
***
and now for something completely different
Enomoto has begun to describe his life in two phases: Before Nino and After Nino.
Before Nino is easier to categorize than After Nino. Before Nino, Enomoto’s life is easy. He wakes up, he eats breakfast, he goes to work, he tinkers with his locks, he comes home. Simple. Neat.
After Nino is… less so.
“I have work,” Enomoto says, insistent, as if this should be enough to dissuade the young man wrapped tightly around him.
“Skip it,” Nino encourages. The words are mouthed right against Enomoto’s skin in a way that draws a shiver out of him against his will. “You’ve got plenty of vacation days; I know you never use them.”
“But.” Enomoto begins. He means to finish, but Nino’s fingers snake up to remove his glasses and Nino’s mouth moves from the skin of his shoulder to the skin of his neck. It suddenly becomes a great deal harder to find the right words. By the time Nino is done with him, Enomoto is so thoroughly late that he may as well not go in, and Nino is curled against his chest with a satisfied smirk.
They don’t get up for breakfast; instead they have an early lunch in bed. When they’re done, they relocate to the couch, where Nino allows Enomoto to find a lock to fuss with while he slumps against Enomoto’s side and plays with his video games.
After Nino is a difficult thing, because every day After Nino is different. Nino is barely-controlled chaos in a tiny, snark-filled form. Routine is meaningless with him. Enomoto barely has time to keep pace, let alone plan ahead.
It is, Enomoto thinks as his lock clicks open far sooner than he expects, perhaps the better way to live.
***
bear with me (I’m fragile)
“I’m a space pirate,” Nino says the first time Ohno asks, evasive and a firm believer in never giving too much away on a first date. “You caught me on shore leave.”
Ohno grins and asks, unashamedly, about his latest booty capture.
It’s dumb. Nino laughs anyway and feels a little of the tension in him ease.
*
“A secret agent,” Nino says the next time, months and many dates later, when they are waiting for their movie to start and Ohno has been trying - and failing - to subtly shuffle closer to Nino for a few moments now. “I could tell you more, but I’d have to kill you.”
“That’s okay,” Ohno says, and gives up any hope of casual disinterest with the way that he finally plasters himself to Nino’s side. “I like the mystery.”
Nino turns to stare at him. He looks for so long that he misses the start of the film entirely.
*
“I compose,” Nino says, the last time Ohno asks him. They are in his apartment and Ohno is staring at his piano with fascination. Nino feels heat in his cheeks and a pressure in his chest. He ducks his head and looks up at Ohno shyly, nervous as he shuffles the half-finished songs and blank sheet music in his hands before finally setting them aside.
Ohno smiles in that way that lights up his whole face. “Can I hear one?” He asks, his hand reaching out with confidence to capture one of Nino’s.
Nino exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He threads their fingers together and nods.