[FIC] Arashi - Ohmiya Drabbles (Set Nine)
Title: teeny tidbits of whimsy and schmoop (set nine)
Fandom: Arashi
Pairing: Ohno/Ninomiya
Rating: In order: PG, G, PG, G, G
Disclaimer: Not associated with Johnny's Entertainment. This is fiction; it never happened.
A/N: I'm about to fall into Final Fantasy 8 hell and it's all rikke_leonhart's fault. Just sayin'.
catch you catch me
“These are tight,” Ohno observes, tugging at his wrist experimentally. The handcuff clangs as it hits the metal headboard, but holds fast.
“That was kind of the point,” Nino assures him, fingers nimble as he buttons up his shirt. Ohno’s shirt. It looks nice on him, if a little big in the shoulders and rumpled from a night on the floor.
Ohno pouts a little. “I thought this was about us,” he whines.
Nino pauses, right in the middle of tugging his pants on. It’s a brief thing, then he continues, fastening them and coming over to stand beside Ohno. Ohno looks up at him with the most pathetic expression he can muster and Nino has to laugh, because for being a police detective, Ohno certainly doesn’t look the part.
“You’re so strange,” Nino says, bemused. He leans over, close, stops just before their mouths touch. It’s enough that Ohno can feel the movement of his lips as he speaks. “Aren’t you supposed to be trying to catch me?”
And, well. Yes. He is. Because Ohno is a detective and Nino.
Nino is the greatest thief that ever lived.
The fact that every time Ohno manages to corner him, they end up in a hotel room together is beside the point.
Ohno pouts. “I wouldn’t have done anything.”
Nino looks down at him and a strange expression passes over his face. “I believe you,” he says, softly, like Ohno isn’t really meant to hear it. There’s something different in his voice - unguarded, raw. A little unsteady. It only lasts a moment, and then it’s gone and the mask of the confident thief has slipped back on, smoothly covering up the Nino that Ohno likes best.
“Well,” Nino chirrups. He gives Ohno’s cheek a pat. “This was fun. We should do again sometime.” He leans all the way over now, slants their lips together in a long kiss. It’s different, though; sweet, unhurried, almost tender. Nino has never kissed Ohno like this. When they part, Ohno stares at him for a long time.
“I’ll find you again,” he promises.
Nino smirks. “I’m counting on it.”
And then he’s gone.
Ohno sits back against the headboard. He thinks of all the things that Nino has stolen - art and jewels and money. But also - kisses and glances and maybe even Ohno himself.
He waits a good five minutes before he starts picking the lock on the handcuffs. Nino, he figures, deserves a head start.
***
our children were not supposed to be fuzzy
Nino comes home one day and cats.
“Kittens.” Ohno corrects. They’re tiny, underfed little things. Three of them, barely a few weeks old probably, tripping over each other gracelessly.
They’re on Ohno’s lap and he looks absolutely thrilled.
“You can’t keep them.” Nino tells him, and then immediately retreats to the kitchen before the older man can respond.
He gets a few minutes of peace to steel himself for the oncoming battle. He hears Ohno trail after him eventually, and when Nino lifts his head from the refrigerator, he spies the furry little lumps falling over themselves trying to latch onto Ohno’s pant legs. They’re probably going to tear the fabric, he thinks.
“Kazu-” Ohno starts.
“No.” Nino says, firm. “No cats. We’ve talked about this.”
They have. Not that it’s ever mattered with anything else they’ve talked about - like the Saturday morning fishing trips, or the spare room that Nino had wanted to turn into a music studio and Ohno had wanted to put his art supplies in and in the end the piano had ended up in the living room.
But still. Nino wants to cling to the idea that he has at least some control in this relationship, alright.
Ohno is apparently in a mood, however. There’s a stubborn look forming on his face, determination setting into the line of his mouth, his brow furrowed. It’s more adorable than it is frightening, which makes it all the more dangerous. Nino, with no small amount of irritation, already feels his resolve wavering.
“They’re babies.” Ohno says.
“And I bet they were in a cardboard box when you found them.” Nino snips. He does, after all, hate to lose. “Was it raining, too?”
Ohno huffs a little. Nino waits. After a moment, Ohno deflates. “…not raining,” he admits grudgingly.
A heavy silence falls over them, neither of them budging.
A soft mewling breaks it. They both look down to find one of the kittens - an orange tabby - waving a plaintive paw at Nino.
Nino looks back up and stares at Ohno. Ohno smiles hopefully.
Nino sighs. “I swear,” he grumbles, stooping down to scoop the kitten up gently, “Sometimes you’re worse than Aiba.”
***
a stunning documentary achievement
“And here we have the wild Ohno in his natural habitat,” Nino says, speaking formally and with the air of a professional even as Aiba laughs himself silly off camera and Ohno squishes his face into something ridiculous.
Sho is cackling; only half of him is in the frame. “Liar!” He declares. “We’re nowhere near a fishing boat!”
“It’s my secondary habitat!” Ohno insists. The camera begins to shake; Nino is laughing too hard to keep it steady.
“You look so dumb!”
“You all look dumb,” Jun informs them fondly from where he is sitting beside Ohno.
Nino continues to laugh. “And now,” he says, turning the camera so it’s facing him, revealing a wicked smirk. “We shall see the wild Ohno’s mating habits.” Aiba howls and there is the sound of a chair tipping over, which sets Sho off as well. The camera returns to Ohno and moves closer. “Come here, Oh-chan!”
“Not on top of me!” Jun hollers, trying to escape too late and ending up right in the middle of a pile of Ohmiya snuggles instead.
***
old and grey
Ohno wakes up to aches in his joints and a lonely spot in the bed beside him. Nino is already in the kitchen, sipping his coffee and skimming over sheets of music that are still works in progress. He doesn’t sleep as much these days, goes to bed earlier and wakes at hours that used to be reserved for Ohno’s fishing trips.
“Morning,” Nino greets him absently.
Ohno mumbles a reply; he won’t be coherent until he’s at least two cups in.
As he drinks his first, he takes in the sight of his other half. Forty-five looks good on Nino; a bit of the teenage look has finally faded away. There are wrinkles on his forehead, laugh lines around his eyes. A touch of grey to his hair that he steadfastly refuses to dye out. But beneath it all, he is the same - mischievous eyes, kitten grin, tiny spot on his chin that Ohno adores.
Ohno loves him. Just as much now as he did when they were teenagers.
Maybe more.
“Sap,” Nino tells him, still leafing through his pages.
Ohno pouts. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Didn’t have to,” Nino’s eyes finally lift away and meet Ohno’s; there’s a sparkle there that for the millionth time takes Ohno’s breath away.
“So mean,” Ohno huffs. He turns to pour his second cup, and in the time it takes him to do so, the chair at the kitchen table scrapes back. Seconds later there are arms wrapped around his middle, a chin on his shoulder. Ohno lets out a groan, only partially exaggerated; the weight of it really does make his bones creak.
“Old man,” Nino teases. There is nothing but affection in his tone.
“Not so young yourself.” Ohno points out, thoughtful. He hums a little, smiles faintly. His hands come up to cover Nino’s and for a moment they stand together, swaying very slightly. He says, quietly, “Love you.”
Nino huffs. “Sap.” He repeats. And then drops a kiss to Ohno’s shoulder, his own little way of saying I love you too.
***
so happy I’m stuck with you, you weirdo
Nino finds a single shoe under his bed and can’t make sense of it. It’s not one of his, he can tell immediately from the size, and that’s more or less normal - Ohno leaves bits and pieces of his life spread out across Nino’s apartment like he’s unintentionally setting up a scavenger hunt. Nino’s used to finding odd tidbits in strange places.
What he can’t understand is why it’s just the one.
“You’ve never brought a spare pair of shoes over here,” he says, baffled. Ohno is holding the offending shoe and turning it this way and that, looking for all the world as if he’s never seen it before. “What, did you just - leave one day with only one shoe on?”
Ohno looks up from his inspection, a thoughtful look crossing his features briefly. “…maybe.”
Nino stares at him, and he wants to be frustrated with this, he really does. But Ohno’s unique brand of weird has always been a soft spot for him, so the most he can manage is a noise that is half-laughter, half-incredulity. He says, “You’re going to drive me crazy when you move in, aren’t you?”
Ohno takes this in stride, as if it isn’t the first time they’ve ever talked about it. “Probably,” he acknowledges. He sets the shoe down and gives Nino a smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “You’ll enjoy it, though.”
Nino laughs, helplessly fond. “Yeah,” he admits. “I think I will.”
Fandom: Arashi
Pairing: Ohno/Ninomiya
Rating: In order: PG, G, PG, G, G
Disclaimer: Not associated with Johnny's Entertainment. This is fiction; it never happened.
A/N: I'm about to fall into Final Fantasy 8 hell and it's all rikke_leonhart's fault. Just sayin'.
catch you catch me
“These are tight,” Ohno observes, tugging at his wrist experimentally. The handcuff clangs as it hits the metal headboard, but holds fast.
“That was kind of the point,” Nino assures him, fingers nimble as he buttons up his shirt. Ohno’s shirt. It looks nice on him, if a little big in the shoulders and rumpled from a night on the floor.
Ohno pouts a little. “I thought this was about us,” he whines.
Nino pauses, right in the middle of tugging his pants on. It’s a brief thing, then he continues, fastening them and coming over to stand beside Ohno. Ohno looks up at him with the most pathetic expression he can muster and Nino has to laugh, because for being a police detective, Ohno certainly doesn’t look the part.
“You’re so strange,” Nino says, bemused. He leans over, close, stops just before their mouths touch. It’s enough that Ohno can feel the movement of his lips as he speaks. “Aren’t you supposed to be trying to catch me?”
And, well. Yes. He is. Because Ohno is a detective and Nino.
Nino is the greatest thief that ever lived.
The fact that every time Ohno manages to corner him, they end up in a hotel room together is beside the point.
Ohno pouts. “I wouldn’t have done anything.”
Nino looks down at him and a strange expression passes over his face. “I believe you,” he says, softly, like Ohno isn’t really meant to hear it. There’s something different in his voice - unguarded, raw. A little unsteady. It only lasts a moment, and then it’s gone and the mask of the confident thief has slipped back on, smoothly covering up the Nino that Ohno likes best.
“Well,” Nino chirrups. He gives Ohno’s cheek a pat. “This was fun. We should do again sometime.” He leans all the way over now, slants their lips together in a long kiss. It’s different, though; sweet, unhurried, almost tender. Nino has never kissed Ohno like this. When they part, Ohno stares at him for a long time.
“I’ll find you again,” he promises.
Nino smirks. “I’m counting on it.”
And then he’s gone.
Ohno sits back against the headboard. He thinks of all the things that Nino has stolen - art and jewels and money. But also - kisses and glances and maybe even Ohno himself.
He waits a good five minutes before he starts picking the lock on the handcuffs. Nino, he figures, deserves a head start.
***
our children were not supposed to be fuzzy
Nino comes home one day and cats.
“Kittens.” Ohno corrects. They’re tiny, underfed little things. Three of them, barely a few weeks old probably, tripping over each other gracelessly.
They’re on Ohno’s lap and he looks absolutely thrilled.
“You can’t keep them.” Nino tells him, and then immediately retreats to the kitchen before the older man can respond.
He gets a few minutes of peace to steel himself for the oncoming battle. He hears Ohno trail after him eventually, and when Nino lifts his head from the refrigerator, he spies the furry little lumps falling over themselves trying to latch onto Ohno’s pant legs. They’re probably going to tear the fabric, he thinks.
“Kazu-” Ohno starts.
“No.” Nino says, firm. “No cats. We’ve talked about this.”
They have. Not that it’s ever mattered with anything else they’ve talked about - like the Saturday morning fishing trips, or the spare room that Nino had wanted to turn into a music studio and Ohno had wanted to put his art supplies in and in the end the piano had ended up in the living room.
But still. Nino wants to cling to the idea that he has at least some control in this relationship, alright.
Ohno is apparently in a mood, however. There’s a stubborn look forming on his face, determination setting into the line of his mouth, his brow furrowed. It’s more adorable than it is frightening, which makes it all the more dangerous. Nino, with no small amount of irritation, already feels his resolve wavering.
“They’re babies.” Ohno says.
“And I bet they were in a cardboard box when you found them.” Nino snips. He does, after all, hate to lose. “Was it raining, too?”
Ohno huffs a little. Nino waits. After a moment, Ohno deflates. “…not raining,” he admits grudgingly.
A heavy silence falls over them, neither of them budging.
A soft mewling breaks it. They both look down to find one of the kittens - an orange tabby - waving a plaintive paw at Nino.
Nino looks back up and stares at Ohno. Ohno smiles hopefully.
Nino sighs. “I swear,” he grumbles, stooping down to scoop the kitten up gently, “Sometimes you’re worse than Aiba.”
***
a stunning documentary achievement
“And here we have the wild Ohno in his natural habitat,” Nino says, speaking formally and with the air of a professional even as Aiba laughs himself silly off camera and Ohno squishes his face into something ridiculous.
Sho is cackling; only half of him is in the frame. “Liar!” He declares. “We’re nowhere near a fishing boat!”
“It’s my secondary habitat!” Ohno insists. The camera begins to shake; Nino is laughing too hard to keep it steady.
“You look so dumb!”
“You all look dumb,” Jun informs them fondly from where he is sitting beside Ohno.
Nino continues to laugh. “And now,” he says, turning the camera so it’s facing him, revealing a wicked smirk. “We shall see the wild Ohno’s mating habits.” Aiba howls and there is the sound of a chair tipping over, which sets Sho off as well. The camera returns to Ohno and moves closer. “Come here, Oh-chan!”
“Not on top of me!” Jun hollers, trying to escape too late and ending up right in the middle of a pile of Ohmiya snuggles instead.
***
old and grey
Ohno wakes up to aches in his joints and a lonely spot in the bed beside him. Nino is already in the kitchen, sipping his coffee and skimming over sheets of music that are still works in progress. He doesn’t sleep as much these days, goes to bed earlier and wakes at hours that used to be reserved for Ohno’s fishing trips.
“Morning,” Nino greets him absently.
Ohno mumbles a reply; he won’t be coherent until he’s at least two cups in.
As he drinks his first, he takes in the sight of his other half. Forty-five looks good on Nino; a bit of the teenage look has finally faded away. There are wrinkles on his forehead, laugh lines around his eyes. A touch of grey to his hair that he steadfastly refuses to dye out. But beneath it all, he is the same - mischievous eyes, kitten grin, tiny spot on his chin that Ohno adores.
Ohno loves him. Just as much now as he did when they were teenagers.
Maybe more.
“Sap,” Nino tells him, still leafing through his pages.
Ohno pouts. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Didn’t have to,” Nino’s eyes finally lift away and meet Ohno’s; there’s a sparkle there that for the millionth time takes Ohno’s breath away.
“So mean,” Ohno huffs. He turns to pour his second cup, and in the time it takes him to do so, the chair at the kitchen table scrapes back. Seconds later there are arms wrapped around his middle, a chin on his shoulder. Ohno lets out a groan, only partially exaggerated; the weight of it really does make his bones creak.
“Old man,” Nino teases. There is nothing but affection in his tone.
“Not so young yourself.” Ohno points out, thoughtful. He hums a little, smiles faintly. His hands come up to cover Nino’s and for a moment they stand together, swaying very slightly. He says, quietly, “Love you.”
Nino huffs. “Sap.” He repeats. And then drops a kiss to Ohno’s shoulder, his own little way of saying I love you too.
***
so happy I’m stuck with you, you weirdo
Nino finds a single shoe under his bed and can’t make sense of it. It’s not one of his, he can tell immediately from the size, and that’s more or less normal - Ohno leaves bits and pieces of his life spread out across Nino’s apartment like he’s unintentionally setting up a scavenger hunt. Nino’s used to finding odd tidbits in strange places.
What he can’t understand is why it’s just the one.
“You’ve never brought a spare pair of shoes over here,” he says, baffled. Ohno is holding the offending shoe and turning it this way and that, looking for all the world as if he’s never seen it before. “What, did you just - leave one day with only one shoe on?”
Ohno looks up from his inspection, a thoughtful look crossing his features briefly. “…maybe.”
Nino stares at him, and he wants to be frustrated with this, he really does. But Ohno’s unique brand of weird has always been a soft spot for him, so the most he can manage is a noise that is half-laughter, half-incredulity. He says, “You’re going to drive me crazy when you move in, aren’t you?”
Ohno takes this in stride, as if it isn’t the first time they’ve ever talked about it. “Probably,” he acknowledges. He sets the shoe down and gives Nino a smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “You’ll enjoy it, though.”
Nino laughs, helplessly fond. “Yeah,” he admits. “I think I will.”