ficlet: this might be a prologue
Title: this might be a prologue
Fandom: future(?) Matsumiya (Arashi RPS)
Rating: PG
Genre: I don't really know, actually. Unequivocally AU, though.
Word Count: 796
Summary: Jun races cars, usually when he's inside them.
Notes: This might be a prologue. It certainly feels like a prologue. But see, I haven't really decided if I'm going to continue this. Mostly I just wanted to write a useless little something for chelshock today. ♥ And since this is one of the billions of scenarios she's randomly come up with... :3.
Jun chases the grime out from under his fingernails, scrubs at his skin until it bleats at him, red and incensed under the spray of the hot water. He shakes his hand through his hair, letting the suds slide away and run into the drain. He turns off the shower and steps into the tub, sinking, dissolving into it. And then he sits.
Jun tells the guys that he can't sleep without the smell of sweat and fuel. They all talk like that, warming the air with tales of using bolts as pillows and feeling more comfortable on concrete than on a mattress. But they're always laughing and grinning, slapping each other's backs as the final mouthfuls of beer are left flat and forgotten in their bottles. Jun likes that his coworkers are his friends. He likes that they can all talk big together, dicking around before they go home and wash themselves honest again, before they burrow into their matching fluffy bed sets. He likes that he doesn't have to say what's on his mind to be understood. And he likes that when he does say what's on his mind, whether or not it's hidden behind the loud attitude that's almost a prerequisite in his profession, they really hear him.
And so Jun dries himself off after a relaxing dip in the tub, wiggles his way into the pajama set Masaki once called "pansy" ("Don't be jealous, Masaki. I'll get you your own set, and then maybe someone will finally think you're worth sleeping with."), and falls asleep even before the bolts have stopped rattling under his head.
Mornings are early. Jun's much closer to a morning monster than he is to a morning person, so he depends on Masaki to bring him coffee. Masaki leaves that day's cup on the counter next to Jun's two-meter radius, and Jun blows and sips and waits for the monster to disappear before he begins the morning meeting. It's normally just a sentence or two out of habit, but it helps him center himself, and he refuses to start the day without it.
"Gather up," he calls, stepping into his racing suit. He works on tying the sleeves around his waist, watching his hands as he speaks. "During the time trial yesterday, I slipped up in the final lap, so remember to lay into me right at the end." He tightens the knot with a grunt and looks up at his crew, meeting their eyes individually before he nods his head again. "I'm counting on you." Once he hears the chorus of wordless assent, he looks back up and watches them trickle to their corners of the garage. He gropes for his coffee and takes one last gulp before he heads over to his car for a routine check.
It's early for a knock from a visitor, but there it is, sharp against the garage door. Jun doesn't look up from the tire he's inspecting, and when he hears the gentle dance of Shun's socket wrench against the work bench, he feels the usual pang of gratitude. Shun gets the first one today.
"Jun," Shun calls a minute later. Jun looks up to see a small man beaming at him from behind Shun. "This is Ninomiya, from a couple of doors down. He says he just wanted to come by and say hello."
Jun knows who Ninomiya is. Everyone in the circuit knows who Ninomiya is. Ninomiya Kazunari's been the champion of more tournaments than he has room for on his trophy shelf, and it's said that he's as quick with his words as he is on the track. It's a dramatic kind of rumor that floats around wherever he goes, like dirty exhaust, so when Jun gives him a quick up-and-down and finds him unexpectedly small and cute, he's not sure what to think. He wipes his hands on his pants as he stands up, stepping forward and extending his hand in greeting. "Matsumoto. Nice to meet you." He pauses momentarily, but he can't really help himself. This is the great Ninomiya? He's so unthreatening. Jun grins into his next sentence. "Let's be friends."
Ninomiya smiles and takes Jun's hand. His grip is surprisingly firm, somehow arrogant against Jun's palm. "Friends, huh?"
Jun nods smugly and waits for Ninomiya to release his hand. He doesn't. He just smiles evenly and keeps his eyes on Jun's, and Jun blinks as his grin falters. How can he be losing already? After a long moment, Jun looks down at their hands, still clasped together.
Jun sees Ninomiya smirk out of the corner of his eye. "How about rivals, then?" Ninomiya says pleasantly. He finally lets go, and Jun's hand bumps awkwardly against his leg. "Please keep me in your favor."
Fandom: future(?) Matsumiya (Arashi RPS)
Rating: PG
Genre: I don't really know, actually. Unequivocally AU, though.
Word Count: 796
Summary: Jun races cars, usually when he's inside them.
Notes: This might be a prologue. It certainly feels like a prologue. But see, I haven't really decided if I'm going to continue this. Mostly I just wanted to write a useless little something for chelshock today. ♥ And since this is one of the billions of scenarios she's randomly come up with... :3.
Jun chases the grime out from under his fingernails, scrubs at his skin until it bleats at him, red and incensed under the spray of the hot water. He shakes his hand through his hair, letting the suds slide away and run into the drain. He turns off the shower and steps into the tub, sinking, dissolving into it. And then he sits.
Jun tells the guys that he can't sleep without the smell of sweat and fuel. They all talk like that, warming the air with tales of using bolts as pillows and feeling more comfortable on concrete than on a mattress. But they're always laughing and grinning, slapping each other's backs as the final mouthfuls of beer are left flat and forgotten in their bottles. Jun likes that his coworkers are his friends. He likes that they can all talk big together, dicking around before they go home and wash themselves honest again, before they burrow into their matching fluffy bed sets. He likes that he doesn't have to say what's on his mind to be understood. And he likes that when he does say what's on his mind, whether or not it's hidden behind the loud attitude that's almost a prerequisite in his profession, they really hear him.
And so Jun dries himself off after a relaxing dip in the tub, wiggles his way into the pajama set Masaki once called "pansy" ("Don't be jealous, Masaki. I'll get you your own set, and then maybe someone will finally think you're worth sleeping with."), and falls asleep even before the bolts have stopped rattling under his head.
Mornings are early. Jun's much closer to a morning monster than he is to a morning person, so he depends on Masaki to bring him coffee. Masaki leaves that day's cup on the counter next to Jun's two-meter radius, and Jun blows and sips and waits for the monster to disappear before he begins the morning meeting. It's normally just a sentence or two out of habit, but it helps him center himself, and he refuses to start the day without it.
"Gather up," he calls, stepping into his racing suit. He works on tying the sleeves around his waist, watching his hands as he speaks. "During the time trial yesterday, I slipped up in the final lap, so remember to lay into me right at the end." He tightens the knot with a grunt and looks up at his crew, meeting their eyes individually before he nods his head again. "I'm counting on you." Once he hears the chorus of wordless assent, he looks back up and watches them trickle to their corners of the garage. He gropes for his coffee and takes one last gulp before he heads over to his car for a routine check.
It's early for a knock from a visitor, but there it is, sharp against the garage door. Jun doesn't look up from the tire he's inspecting, and when he hears the gentle dance of Shun's socket wrench against the work bench, he feels the usual pang of gratitude. Shun gets the first one today.
"Jun," Shun calls a minute later. Jun looks up to see a small man beaming at him from behind Shun. "This is Ninomiya, from a couple of doors down. He says he just wanted to come by and say hello."
Jun knows who Ninomiya is. Everyone in the circuit knows who Ninomiya is. Ninomiya Kazunari's been the champion of more tournaments than he has room for on his trophy shelf, and it's said that he's as quick with his words as he is on the track. It's a dramatic kind of rumor that floats around wherever he goes, like dirty exhaust, so when Jun gives him a quick up-and-down and finds him unexpectedly small and cute, he's not sure what to think. He wipes his hands on his pants as he stands up, stepping forward and extending his hand in greeting. "Matsumoto. Nice to meet you." He pauses momentarily, but he can't really help himself. This is the great Ninomiya? He's so unthreatening. Jun grins into his next sentence. "Let's be friends."
Ninomiya smiles and takes Jun's hand. His grip is surprisingly firm, somehow arrogant against Jun's palm. "Friends, huh?"
Jun nods smugly and waits for Ninomiya to release his hand. He doesn't. He just smiles evenly and keeps his eyes on Jun's, and Jun blinks as his grin falters. How can he be losing already? After a long moment, Jun looks down at their hands, still clasped together.
Jun sees Ninomiya smirk out of the corner of his eye. "How about rivals, then?" Ninomiya says pleasantly. He finally lets go, and Jun's hand bumps awkwardly against his leg. "Please keep me in your favor."