Invitation to the Pants Party
Title: Invitation to the Pants Party
Rating: PG-13 with overtly implied adult situations
Characters/Pairings: Matsumoto Jun/Sakurai Sho
Summary: Sho has ugly sweatpants that look like jeans. Jun is intent on erasing them from the face of the earth. Who emerges triumphant?
Notes/Warnings: Yo dawg, I herd it was Sho's birthday (and it still is in my timezone for a few minutes). Sho really does have sweatpants that look like denim. Aiba even requested on national television that Sho stop wearing them in 2008, but on HnA, Yoko noted that Sho still had them during Quiz Show filming. I choose to believe the fake jeans will never die.
Jun went through his bag one last time.
Gaja Sugarille Brunello di Montalcino, 2001. Check.
Change of clothes. Check.
Toothbrush. Check.
Skin care regimen. Check.
Vitamins and supplements. Check.
Backup protection in case *someone* had been too lazy/forgetful/embarrassed to send Manager-san to the convenience store...
Again.
Check.
Jun took the black garbage bag, balling it up and shoving it in next to his skin care bag. Then he grabbed it and tried folding it, pushing out all of the air and settling it back in the duffel again. He frowned. He yanked the bag out and balled it up once more. He hid it underneath a pair of socks and zipped the bag closed once and for all. Or at least until he got in the taxi and fussed over it again.
He nodded and tossed the bag over his shoulder, grabbing his keys and phone.
Garbage bag for the destruction of the world’s most offensive item. Check.
--
It wasn’t that Sho’s sweatpants that looked like jeans were terrible so much as Jun thought they were an abomination against God. Okay, so maybe they were terrible. They were misleading. They were ugly. They were getting old. Sure, it was true that Leader held on to some of his t-shirts for a long time, especially ones he’d been given by the radio station, but he probably had fifteen black FM Yokohama shirts in his regular rotation.
There was only one pair of sweatpants that looked like jeans.
There was a rip in the left knee from the time they were learning the choreography for Monster. There was a patch on the thigh Jun knew Sho had had a manager fix. The once elastic waistband had worn out so they sagged a bit against Sho’s ass. And yet, without fail, Sho came to rehearsal after rehearsal, informal meeting after informal meeting wearing the things.
And that was just in public. Jun preferred Sho coming to his apartment - he usually wore normal, regular, average pants then. But if it was Jun visiting Sho, the likelihood of having to see the ugly things was rather high. It was starting to take a toll on him. There was Sho’s scent and Sho’s lips and Sho’s hands, and Jun had no problem with those things. But as soon as he put his hand to the familiar jersey material, knowing he was touching a fake pocket, he wanted to flee.
It made the whole foreplay to sex transition time extremely awkward, and Sho just couldn’t figure out why.
Well, Jun rationalized as he got into the elevator and headed up to Sho’s floor, there would be no more of that. He was doing his bandmates a service. It was for the good of Arashi, and Jun just wouldn’t be Jun if he didn’t care about the good of Arashi. Plus, he was doing Sho a service whether he understood it or not.
The door was unlocked when he arrived, since Jun had sent a message in the cab. If Sho was being this open and trusting, it would be pretty easy to get the fake jeans in his bag and smuggle them out in the morning. He probably wouldn’t get laid for a few weeks in retaliation, but he felt it was something he could live with. Sho would see sense in the end, Jun was sure of it.
He found Sho in the kitchen, already popping open a beer. “I said I was bringing wine,” Jun said by way of greeting, lips forming a definite pout.
Sho brought the can to his lips. “It’s my birthday. I can drink whatever I want.”
Jun rolled his eyes. Sho’s birthday was actually in a few days, but it was just easier to celebrate when they both had an evening free. Besides, the whole month of January had been one long birthday for Sho - photo shoot cakes and variety filming cakes. Sho was probably going to turn into cake and split his pants during the group’s next Music Station appearance. Not that Jun had any complaints about the tight slacks Sho kept choosing from the stylists. He just didn’t know how anyone could eat that much cake.
He unzipped his bag carefully, setting the Gaja Sugarille on Sho’s counter. “Ordering take-out?” he asked nervously, doing his best to zip his bag back in a nonchalant way.
Sho didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, fingers brushing against Jun’s arm as he left the kitchen, beer in tow. “Soba!” Sho cheered, sitting down on his couch with a happy sigh.
Jun could have made soba for a fraction of what he’d now be paying the delivery person. Because, after all, it was Sho’s “birthday” and the birthday boy never paid. To be fair, Jun thought, the bar tab on his own “birthday” had been pretty high last year, and Sho hadn’t said a thing. There hadn’t been a lot of talking that night anyhow, he remembered with a grin.
He helped himself to a beer from Sho’s refrigerator, thankful that Sho had worn a different pair of sweats as he joined him on the sofa. At least he’d be able to get through dinner. Jun understood the need to be comfortable and had his share of cozy linen or cotton pajama bottoms, but Sho seemed to shop with Aiba too much. Tonight’s selection were Aiba-length with orange and yellow stripes. And yet Aiba was always snickering about the fake jeans. Jun would never fully understand Aiba.
“Want me to put your bag in the bedroom?” Sho offered, getting to his feet.
“No!” Jun immediately protested, nearly dropping the can of beer on Sho’s rug. “I mean, you stay here. I...I...I got it.”
And to think, he occasionally acted. In movies and television, no less! Jun grabbed his bag from the side of the couch and headed down the hallway to Sho’s bedroom. It would have been better to not switch on the light. There were clothes everywhere and a very narrow path to Sho’s bed which was, unsurprisingly, covered in more clothes. Jun set the bag down on his usual side, pulling clothes off the bed and onto the floor. Not preferable, but he didn’t need to roll over onto a belt buckle later that evening.
He was just giving the room one final scan, searching desperately for the ugly sweatpants. His plan of attack was simple - snatch them up in the morning while Sho was in the shower, leave before he noticed something out of place in his organized chaos of a bedroom. But before he could locate the offending item, Sho was tapping on the doorframe.
“Drop something?” Sho asked. “You’ve been gone for five minutes.”
He shrugged. “I was cleaning off the bed.”
“Oh?” Sho asked in a voice that sent all the blood in Jun’s body south. “We haven’t even had dinner yet.”
Concentration was always difficult once he was in Sho’s bedroom, a place he’d fantasized about during long nights in high school. Of course, the whole “getting caught in Sho’s bedroom by Sho’s parents” fear had finally subsided now that Sho had a place of his own.
“I was...” He made sure his bag was tucked out of sight. “Your room is a mess.”
“Well, I’m hardly home,” Sho reminded him, taking a very dangerous step forward. They needed to get back to the relative safety of the living room with its promise of good wine and soba. Soba always required attention to eat.
He definitely didn’t need Sho taking charge. Even if it was his fake birthday, Jun was a man with a plan for those fake jeans. He didn’t need to get exhausted yet, let Sho do anything to him that he hadn’t budgeted for quite this early in the night. He ignored the look in Sho’s eyes and headed back for the hallway. It was probably rude of him to do so, but who knew what Sho would do. Get naked and after that, change into the fake jeans? There was no way Jun could sleep beside him all night - Sho wasn’t the lightest sleeper, but he’d definitely notice Jun stripping him down and shoving the pants in his bag.
Jun downed most of the beer in record time to calm his nerves once he got back to the living room. Sho sat closer. Jun could smell him, could already feel Sho’s fingers moving to his thigh.
“What’s wrong with you? You’re so jittery,” Sho said, chuckling. “What, am I getting too old for you? Having second thoughts?”
He closed his eyes when he felt Sho’s breath by his ear, but thankfully, fate intervened with the ring of the doorbell.
Sho grumbled, getting to his feet. “At least it’s soba.”
Jun cleared his throat, pulling his wallet from his pocket and praying that the delivery person wouldn’t look too closely down at his crotch. He couldn’t exactly walk to the door with a pillow held over himself. Jun barely opened the door, shoving the money out and grabbing the take-out bag.
Sho had managed to uncork the wine and was already pouring it in glasses when he brought the bag into the kitchen. “Wine doesn’t seem right for soba, you know. It should be sake. Or more beer.”
“You’re the one who ordered soba.”
“You’re the one who insisted on the wine even though it’s MY birthday.”
“It’s not really your birthday.”
“You’re a rude guest.”
He looked up, meeting Sho’s eyes, and they both laughed until Jun realized they should probably just eat their dinner already. They stood side by side at Sho’s kitchen counter as though it was a stand-up soba place, dipping and slurping down their favorite noodles. They were damn good, imbued with that delivered soba kind of unhealthiness that Jun always made up for with an extra kilometer or two on the treadmill the following day.
Sho usually gave his whole heart and soul to eating, giving Jun a chance to calm down, relax, think critically. They’d be full for a while, especially because Sho would probably eat more than he needed to. They’d finish the wine, they’d fool around, they’d sleep. No room for error.
An hour later, the wine was finished and Sho was already passing out against his shoulder. Full stomach and a good buzz on one of their only days off, Jun knew he should have foreseen this happening. But if Sho fell asleep now, it gave him extra time to dig around in the bedroom. There was always the possibility of Sho asking him to join him in the shower come morning...normally an offer Jun wouldn’t dare pass up, but not when he had a fashion emergency to abscond with.
He got up, helping Sho to lay down. “Mmm...good birthday,” he mumbled as Jun put a blanket over him. The wine had been excellent, and he felt light on his feet as he headed back to Sho’s bedroom. The pile of clothes he’d moved from the bed to the floor were still there, no ugly pants among them.
The problem, of course, was that they looked like jeans, and Sho had his fair share of them. Jun scoured the room, picking up denim and more denim and more denim and knowing that Sho probably had so many pairs of pants because he forgot he even had them after throwing them on the floor.
So they weren’t on the ground. That left the closet and the drawers. Closet was a last resort - he’d only find more jeans and maybe Sho’s wisdom teeth in a jar and housewife porn and other quirky things Sho thought were worth keeping. Drawers first.
Drawer one - underwear, something Sho actually washed and folded and put away, thankfully. But no fake jeans. Drawer two - socks, mostly plain save for a few loud, colorful pairs that had “shopping trip with Aiba-chan” written all over them. The next drawer, t-shirts. The next, half t-shirts, the rest knitted sweaters from his grandmother in the countryside. He’d only heard about these in whispered passing from Nino, whose sweater silence Sho had obviously bought with the new stereo in Nino’s apartment.
He got through the rest of the dresser, fear growing. Had Sho seen through him entirely? How? How could he have known what Jun was plotting? Where the hell had he stashed the damn things? And then, as he turned around in frustration, he saw the flash of blue. They’d been haphazardly tossed under Sho’s desk beside an extra laptop charger.
“Jackpot,” he muttered to himself, walking over and crouching down to grab them. All he had to do was shove them in his bag, and Sho would be none the wiser. It was a great day to be Matsumoto Jun - national idol, fake jeans sleuth. He could already hear his bandmates’ words of praise as he imagined setting the pants on fire...
“Oh! You found them, Ma-chan!”
He froze, hand curled around the crotch of the fake jeans. Sho had been asleep. He’d been asleep!
“I’ve been looking everywhere for these, and you were in here cleaning.” Sho’s voice was still a little sleepy, and Jun’s heart sank as he approached. “You don’t have to clean just because it’s my birthday.”
At least Sho wasn’t suspicious about him digging around in his room. He got to his feet, not picking up the pants. Sho pulled off his current sweatpants, temporarily sending Jun into a daze at the sudden flash of green boxer shorts. “You’re...you’re changing?”
Sho grabbed the ugly, horrid things up off the floor and tugged them on, destroying Jun’s last shred of hope. “These are more comfortable.”
“It’s made of the same material,” Jun sputtered uselessly.
Sho shrugged. “I like these.”
But I don’t! I really, really don’t, Jun thought bitterly. Maybe he could shove Sho around, act a bit rough. Sho was usually into that. It would be the perfect excuse to rip the pants. Then again, he’d just have staff fix them - it wouldn’t solve the problem. No, he had to ensure that the pants went with him come morning.
He needed to make sure Sho was going to sleep like a rock. Sho always slept like a rock after a lot of exertion. Like after concerts. Like after...
He had to give Sho a birthday he’d never, ever forget. It wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening.
Jun put on what he hoped was his most predatory grin and stepped forward. So long as he focused on Sho’s eyes, Sho’s mouth, Sho’s collarbones, Sho’s arms, Sho’s fingers, Sho’s everything-but-the-ugliest-pants-on-earth he was just fine.
“Hi,” Sho said shyly as soon as Jun was in his space.
He skimmed his thumb along his lower lip, wetting it just slightly before pressing it against Sho’s mouth. “Hi.”
Sho gulped, and Jun had him. He definitely had him. Grabbing hold of Sho’s sleeve, he hauled him across the cleaner part of the floor and shoved him down on the bed. Sho’s eyes were wide as saucers, and he was probably still a bit out of it after his nap. All the more helpful, Jun decided.
Just one more thing before round one could get started. He nearly went flying over a Grandma Sakurai knitted sweater as he hurried to switch off the light.
--
“What’s with you tonight?” Sho yawned as Jun rolled him onto his back a few hours later. “Not that I’m complaining...”
“What can I say?” Jun replied, remembering just where he’d deposited those horrible pants at the bedside. He fumbled around in the dark for another condom, ripping it open with his teeth. “I guess I just need you.”
Sho made a very pleased noise in the back of his throat, and Jun almost felt bad for all the evil he was plotting to commit against the fake jeans.
But not that bad.
--
“Jun, come on, what time is it?”
“Oh, about 4:00...”
“But I’m tiiiiiired!” Sho rolled over onto his side in protest, hugging a spare pillow. “Didn’t we just...”
Jun grabbed hold of Sho’s hip, spooning up behind him. “But that was two hours ago. And it’s your birthday.”
It still wasn’t Sho’s birthday, but whatever. He listened to Sho grumble for a few seconds, at least until Jun moved his hand inward.
“I guess it *is* my birthday after all.”
--
Dawn broke, and Sho’s hair was in Jun’s mouth and Sho’s limbs were curled all around him. Jun was sore. He was pretty damn sore. His jaw ached a bit. He knew there’d be bruises forming if they hadn’t already, but Sho was out. Very much out. Out to the point that Jun could grab the pants and leave and lock the door with his spare key.
It would be rather mean, cruel even to leave Sho to wake up alone. But the whole set-up was cruel, and Jun was going to be walking funny for a while anyhow. If only the rest of Arashi knew what he’d done for the sake of them all. On second thought, it was the last thing Jun wanted the rest of Arashi to know.
He moved Sho as gently as he could. Didn’t want the man waking up thinking it was time for an unprecedented round 4. Jun moved at a snail’s pace across the mattress, rolling gently off and onto the floor, feeling almost like a cat. The zipper for his bag would make noise, so he decided it was best to just take it all to go. There was just enough sunlight behind the blinds to let him retrieve his clothes, and he snuck out of the room, hearing Sho’s soft, satisfied snores behind him. Like a damn ninja.
He dressed hurriedly in his change of clothes once he made it to Sho’s bathroom. Quick brushing of teeth, quick washing of his face. He tiptoed out, seeing the empty wine bottle on the table as he got to the entryway. Key in the lock, and he was home free.
Jun waited until he got into the elevator before unzipping the bag again and shoving the hideous pants into the garbage bag. A strange giddiness overcame him. Good food, great sex, and he had the stupid pants. They were his to destroy.
He was still sore though, so he found his way to a neighborhood park, put on his sunglasses and called for a cab. On the way back to his apartment, Jun wondered if Sho had woken yet, discovered him gone. Discovered the pants gone. But Sho hadn’t called or left him any messages.
He smiled as he got home. Work was light today - just a CM shoot later that afternoon with the others. He had all morning to plan and plot.
But as soon as he grabbed the garbage bag, felt the weight of the horrible pants within, he knew what he wanted to do. He opened one of his kitchen drawers and grabbed his best pair of scissors.
“Sho-kun,” he muttered to himself. “I’m sorry.” He made the first snip and couldn’t even stifle his maniacal giggles. “Actually, I’m not sorry.”
--
Later that day, Jun was feeling great as he and Aiba got out of the company car that had picked them up. He hadn’t given Aiba any specifics, only hinting that “the fake jeans are no more.” Aiba had nearly cried in joy in the back of the car and was only now settling down again as they greeted the staff.
“We’re still waiting on Ninomiya-san and Ohno-san, but Sakurai-san is here already,” one of the staff told them, and Jun tried to keep his face neutral.
Aiba elbowed him. “You think...you think Sho-chan’s going to murder you in your sleep? They’re his favorite pants, you know.”
Jun was pretty satisfied with himself. “He can do whatever he wants.” There was no going back anyhow, since there was now a garbage bag in his building’s dumpster full of several hundred pieces of fake jeans. After the scissors, there’d been the pinking shears. Then the scissors again. He’d stopped himself just short of putting bits of fabric in the blender - that would have just ruined a perfectly good blender.
Aiba opened the door, and Jun followed, all set to prepare for filming and treat Sho as a colleague the way they always were extremely careful to do after a night together. But his joy and his preparation were all for nothing.
Sho was sitting on the couch, looking through his phone. And he was wearing the fake jeans.
The staff walking behind him accidentally collided with his back, he’d stopped so quickly in his tracks. Even Aiba let out a gasp in confusion.
Sho looked up, calm and self-assured. “Oh. Aiba-chan, Matsujun. Hello.”
“Hey Sho-chan,” Aiba muttered quickly, heading straight for the stylists.
Sho snapped his phone closed, getting up and stretching, taking extra time to pull up the god-awful pants before giving Jun a winning idol smile. “Let’s work hard together, shall we?”
--
The CM shoot had been a near disaster. Fourteen takes and all because Jun was utterly distracted. Even Leader was growing annoyed with him. But it all wrapped up well, and Aiba must have said something to the others because he and Sho were left alone in the changing room.
He was just pulling on his own clothes again when he sensed Sho at his back, fingers suddenly wrapping around his wrist. The room was devoid of staff, so Sho took pleasure in wrenching Jun around so they were face to face.
“Oh, Matsumoto-san,” Sho said in his very best “I know everything about you” voice. “Did you really think that was going to work?”
He blinked. “I’m sorry?” he asked, playing dumb.
Sho smiled, and Jun knew he was in deep, deep shit. “I have to admit, I didn’t know what you were up to until...oh, the second time you wanted to get me off...” Jun could feel his cheeks burn in embarrassment. “...but really, you need to plan better.”
Jun stiffened as Sho pushed Jun’s hand downward, letting him touch the jersey fabric, right over the fake pocket of the stupid fake jeans. “I hate these pants, Sho. I hate them more than you can possibly imagine.”
“I know you do,” Sho said triumphantly. Jun’s heart sank, and Sho patted his cheek.
“That’s why I bought five more pairs.”
Rating: PG-13 with overtly implied adult situations
Characters/Pairings: Matsumoto Jun/Sakurai Sho
Summary: Sho has ugly sweatpants that look like jeans. Jun is intent on erasing them from the face of the earth. Who emerges triumphant?
Notes/Warnings: Yo dawg, I herd it was Sho's birthday (and it still is in my timezone for a few minutes). Sho really does have sweatpants that look like denim. Aiba even requested on national television that Sho stop wearing them in 2008, but on HnA, Yoko noted that Sho still had them during Quiz Show filming. I choose to believe the fake jeans will never die.
Jun went through his bag one last time.
Gaja Sugarille Brunello di Montalcino, 2001. Check.
Change of clothes. Check.
Toothbrush. Check.
Skin care regimen. Check.
Vitamins and supplements. Check.
Backup protection in case *someone* had been too lazy/forgetful/embarrassed to send Manager-san to the convenience store...
Again.
Check.
Jun took the black garbage bag, balling it up and shoving it in next to his skin care bag. Then he grabbed it and tried folding it, pushing out all of the air and settling it back in the duffel again. He frowned. He yanked the bag out and balled it up once more. He hid it underneath a pair of socks and zipped the bag closed once and for all. Or at least until he got in the taxi and fussed over it again.
He nodded and tossed the bag over his shoulder, grabbing his keys and phone.
Garbage bag for the destruction of the world’s most offensive item. Check.
--
It wasn’t that Sho’s sweatpants that looked like jeans were terrible so much as Jun thought they were an abomination against God. Okay, so maybe they were terrible. They were misleading. They were ugly. They were getting old. Sure, it was true that Leader held on to some of his t-shirts for a long time, especially ones he’d been given by the radio station, but he probably had fifteen black FM Yokohama shirts in his regular rotation.
There was only one pair of sweatpants that looked like jeans.
There was a rip in the left knee from the time they were learning the choreography for Monster. There was a patch on the thigh Jun knew Sho had had a manager fix. The once elastic waistband had worn out so they sagged a bit against Sho’s ass. And yet, without fail, Sho came to rehearsal after rehearsal, informal meeting after informal meeting wearing the things.
And that was just in public. Jun preferred Sho coming to his apartment - he usually wore normal, regular, average pants then. But if it was Jun visiting Sho, the likelihood of having to see the ugly things was rather high. It was starting to take a toll on him. There was Sho’s scent and Sho’s lips and Sho’s hands, and Jun had no problem with those things. But as soon as he put his hand to the familiar jersey material, knowing he was touching a fake pocket, he wanted to flee.
It made the whole foreplay to sex transition time extremely awkward, and Sho just couldn’t figure out why.
Well, Jun rationalized as he got into the elevator and headed up to Sho’s floor, there would be no more of that. He was doing his bandmates a service. It was for the good of Arashi, and Jun just wouldn’t be Jun if he didn’t care about the good of Arashi. Plus, he was doing Sho a service whether he understood it or not.
The door was unlocked when he arrived, since Jun had sent a message in the cab. If Sho was being this open and trusting, it would be pretty easy to get the fake jeans in his bag and smuggle them out in the morning. He probably wouldn’t get laid for a few weeks in retaliation, but he felt it was something he could live with. Sho would see sense in the end, Jun was sure of it.
He found Sho in the kitchen, already popping open a beer. “I said I was bringing wine,” Jun said by way of greeting, lips forming a definite pout.
Sho brought the can to his lips. “It’s my birthday. I can drink whatever I want.”
Jun rolled his eyes. Sho’s birthday was actually in a few days, but it was just easier to celebrate when they both had an evening free. Besides, the whole month of January had been one long birthday for Sho - photo shoot cakes and variety filming cakes. Sho was probably going to turn into cake and split his pants during the group’s next Music Station appearance. Not that Jun had any complaints about the tight slacks Sho kept choosing from the stylists. He just didn’t know how anyone could eat that much cake.
He unzipped his bag carefully, setting the Gaja Sugarille on Sho’s counter. “Ordering take-out?” he asked nervously, doing his best to zip his bag back in a nonchalant way.
Sho didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, fingers brushing against Jun’s arm as he left the kitchen, beer in tow. “Soba!” Sho cheered, sitting down on his couch with a happy sigh.
Jun could have made soba for a fraction of what he’d now be paying the delivery person. Because, after all, it was Sho’s “birthday” and the birthday boy never paid. To be fair, Jun thought, the bar tab on his own “birthday” had been pretty high last year, and Sho hadn’t said a thing. There hadn’t been a lot of talking that night anyhow, he remembered with a grin.
He helped himself to a beer from Sho’s refrigerator, thankful that Sho had worn a different pair of sweats as he joined him on the sofa. At least he’d be able to get through dinner. Jun understood the need to be comfortable and had his share of cozy linen or cotton pajama bottoms, but Sho seemed to shop with Aiba too much. Tonight’s selection were Aiba-length with orange and yellow stripes. And yet Aiba was always snickering about the fake jeans. Jun would never fully understand Aiba.
“Want me to put your bag in the bedroom?” Sho offered, getting to his feet.
“No!” Jun immediately protested, nearly dropping the can of beer on Sho’s rug. “I mean, you stay here. I...I...I got it.”
And to think, he occasionally acted. In movies and television, no less! Jun grabbed his bag from the side of the couch and headed down the hallway to Sho’s bedroom. It would have been better to not switch on the light. There were clothes everywhere and a very narrow path to Sho’s bed which was, unsurprisingly, covered in more clothes. Jun set the bag down on his usual side, pulling clothes off the bed and onto the floor. Not preferable, but he didn’t need to roll over onto a belt buckle later that evening.
He was just giving the room one final scan, searching desperately for the ugly sweatpants. His plan of attack was simple - snatch them up in the morning while Sho was in the shower, leave before he noticed something out of place in his organized chaos of a bedroom. But before he could locate the offending item, Sho was tapping on the doorframe.
“Drop something?” Sho asked. “You’ve been gone for five minutes.”
He shrugged. “I was cleaning off the bed.”
“Oh?” Sho asked in a voice that sent all the blood in Jun’s body south. “We haven’t even had dinner yet.”
Concentration was always difficult once he was in Sho’s bedroom, a place he’d fantasized about during long nights in high school. Of course, the whole “getting caught in Sho’s bedroom by Sho’s parents” fear had finally subsided now that Sho had a place of his own.
“I was...” He made sure his bag was tucked out of sight. “Your room is a mess.”
“Well, I’m hardly home,” Sho reminded him, taking a very dangerous step forward. They needed to get back to the relative safety of the living room with its promise of good wine and soba. Soba always required attention to eat.
He definitely didn’t need Sho taking charge. Even if it was his fake birthday, Jun was a man with a plan for those fake jeans. He didn’t need to get exhausted yet, let Sho do anything to him that he hadn’t budgeted for quite this early in the night. He ignored the look in Sho’s eyes and headed back for the hallway. It was probably rude of him to do so, but who knew what Sho would do. Get naked and after that, change into the fake jeans? There was no way Jun could sleep beside him all night - Sho wasn’t the lightest sleeper, but he’d definitely notice Jun stripping him down and shoving the pants in his bag.
Jun downed most of the beer in record time to calm his nerves once he got back to the living room. Sho sat closer. Jun could smell him, could already feel Sho’s fingers moving to his thigh.
“What’s wrong with you? You’re so jittery,” Sho said, chuckling. “What, am I getting too old for you? Having second thoughts?”
He closed his eyes when he felt Sho’s breath by his ear, but thankfully, fate intervened with the ring of the doorbell.
Sho grumbled, getting to his feet. “At least it’s soba.”
Jun cleared his throat, pulling his wallet from his pocket and praying that the delivery person wouldn’t look too closely down at his crotch. He couldn’t exactly walk to the door with a pillow held over himself. Jun barely opened the door, shoving the money out and grabbing the take-out bag.
Sho had managed to uncork the wine and was already pouring it in glasses when he brought the bag into the kitchen. “Wine doesn’t seem right for soba, you know. It should be sake. Or more beer.”
“You’re the one who ordered soba.”
“You’re the one who insisted on the wine even though it’s MY birthday.”
“It’s not really your birthday.”
“You’re a rude guest.”
He looked up, meeting Sho’s eyes, and they both laughed until Jun realized they should probably just eat their dinner already. They stood side by side at Sho’s kitchen counter as though it was a stand-up soba place, dipping and slurping down their favorite noodles. They were damn good, imbued with that delivered soba kind of unhealthiness that Jun always made up for with an extra kilometer or two on the treadmill the following day.
Sho usually gave his whole heart and soul to eating, giving Jun a chance to calm down, relax, think critically. They’d be full for a while, especially because Sho would probably eat more than he needed to. They’d finish the wine, they’d fool around, they’d sleep. No room for error.
An hour later, the wine was finished and Sho was already passing out against his shoulder. Full stomach and a good buzz on one of their only days off, Jun knew he should have foreseen this happening. But if Sho fell asleep now, it gave him extra time to dig around in the bedroom. There was always the possibility of Sho asking him to join him in the shower come morning...normally an offer Jun wouldn’t dare pass up, but not when he had a fashion emergency to abscond with.
He got up, helping Sho to lay down. “Mmm...good birthday,” he mumbled as Jun put a blanket over him. The wine had been excellent, and he felt light on his feet as he headed back to Sho’s bedroom. The pile of clothes he’d moved from the bed to the floor were still there, no ugly pants among them.
The problem, of course, was that they looked like jeans, and Sho had his fair share of them. Jun scoured the room, picking up denim and more denim and more denim and knowing that Sho probably had so many pairs of pants because he forgot he even had them after throwing them on the floor.
So they weren’t on the ground. That left the closet and the drawers. Closet was a last resort - he’d only find more jeans and maybe Sho’s wisdom teeth in a jar and housewife porn and other quirky things Sho thought were worth keeping. Drawers first.
Drawer one - underwear, something Sho actually washed and folded and put away, thankfully. But no fake jeans. Drawer two - socks, mostly plain save for a few loud, colorful pairs that had “shopping trip with Aiba-chan” written all over them. The next drawer, t-shirts. The next, half t-shirts, the rest knitted sweaters from his grandmother in the countryside. He’d only heard about these in whispered passing from Nino, whose sweater silence Sho had obviously bought with the new stereo in Nino’s apartment.
He got through the rest of the dresser, fear growing. Had Sho seen through him entirely? How? How could he have known what Jun was plotting? Where the hell had he stashed the damn things? And then, as he turned around in frustration, he saw the flash of blue. They’d been haphazardly tossed under Sho’s desk beside an extra laptop charger.
“Jackpot,” he muttered to himself, walking over and crouching down to grab them. All he had to do was shove them in his bag, and Sho would be none the wiser. It was a great day to be Matsumoto Jun - national idol, fake jeans sleuth. He could already hear his bandmates’ words of praise as he imagined setting the pants on fire...
“Oh! You found them, Ma-chan!”
He froze, hand curled around the crotch of the fake jeans. Sho had been asleep. He’d been asleep!
“I’ve been looking everywhere for these, and you were in here cleaning.” Sho’s voice was still a little sleepy, and Jun’s heart sank as he approached. “You don’t have to clean just because it’s my birthday.”
At least Sho wasn’t suspicious about him digging around in his room. He got to his feet, not picking up the pants. Sho pulled off his current sweatpants, temporarily sending Jun into a daze at the sudden flash of green boxer shorts. “You’re...you’re changing?”
Sho grabbed the ugly, horrid things up off the floor and tugged them on, destroying Jun’s last shred of hope. “These are more comfortable.”
“It’s made of the same material,” Jun sputtered uselessly.
Sho shrugged. “I like these.”
But I don’t! I really, really don’t, Jun thought bitterly. Maybe he could shove Sho around, act a bit rough. Sho was usually into that. It would be the perfect excuse to rip the pants. Then again, he’d just have staff fix them - it wouldn’t solve the problem. No, he had to ensure that the pants went with him come morning.
He needed to make sure Sho was going to sleep like a rock. Sho always slept like a rock after a lot of exertion. Like after concerts. Like after...
He had to give Sho a birthday he’d never, ever forget. It wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening.
Jun put on what he hoped was his most predatory grin and stepped forward. So long as he focused on Sho’s eyes, Sho’s mouth, Sho’s collarbones, Sho’s arms, Sho’s fingers, Sho’s everything-but-the-ugliest-pants-on-earth he was just fine.
“Hi,” Sho said shyly as soon as Jun was in his space.
He skimmed his thumb along his lower lip, wetting it just slightly before pressing it against Sho’s mouth. “Hi.”
Sho gulped, and Jun had him. He definitely had him. Grabbing hold of Sho’s sleeve, he hauled him across the cleaner part of the floor and shoved him down on the bed. Sho’s eyes were wide as saucers, and he was probably still a bit out of it after his nap. All the more helpful, Jun decided.
Just one more thing before round one could get started. He nearly went flying over a Grandma Sakurai knitted sweater as he hurried to switch off the light.
--
“What’s with you tonight?” Sho yawned as Jun rolled him onto his back a few hours later. “Not that I’m complaining...”
“What can I say?” Jun replied, remembering just where he’d deposited those horrible pants at the bedside. He fumbled around in the dark for another condom, ripping it open with his teeth. “I guess I just need you.”
Sho made a very pleased noise in the back of his throat, and Jun almost felt bad for all the evil he was plotting to commit against the fake jeans.
But not that bad.
--
“Jun, come on, what time is it?”
“Oh, about 4:00...”
“But I’m tiiiiiired!” Sho rolled over onto his side in protest, hugging a spare pillow. “Didn’t we just...”
Jun grabbed hold of Sho’s hip, spooning up behind him. “But that was two hours ago. And it’s your birthday.”
It still wasn’t Sho’s birthday, but whatever. He listened to Sho grumble for a few seconds, at least until Jun moved his hand inward.
“I guess it *is* my birthday after all.”
--
Dawn broke, and Sho’s hair was in Jun’s mouth and Sho’s limbs were curled all around him. Jun was sore. He was pretty damn sore. His jaw ached a bit. He knew there’d be bruises forming if they hadn’t already, but Sho was out. Very much out. Out to the point that Jun could grab the pants and leave and lock the door with his spare key.
It would be rather mean, cruel even to leave Sho to wake up alone. But the whole set-up was cruel, and Jun was going to be walking funny for a while anyhow. If only the rest of Arashi knew what he’d done for the sake of them all. On second thought, it was the last thing Jun wanted the rest of Arashi to know.
He moved Sho as gently as he could. Didn’t want the man waking up thinking it was time for an unprecedented round 4. Jun moved at a snail’s pace across the mattress, rolling gently off and onto the floor, feeling almost like a cat. The zipper for his bag would make noise, so he decided it was best to just take it all to go. There was just enough sunlight behind the blinds to let him retrieve his clothes, and he snuck out of the room, hearing Sho’s soft, satisfied snores behind him. Like a damn ninja.
He dressed hurriedly in his change of clothes once he made it to Sho’s bathroom. Quick brushing of teeth, quick washing of his face. He tiptoed out, seeing the empty wine bottle on the table as he got to the entryway. Key in the lock, and he was home free.
Jun waited until he got into the elevator before unzipping the bag again and shoving the hideous pants into the garbage bag. A strange giddiness overcame him. Good food, great sex, and he had the stupid pants. They were his to destroy.
He was still sore though, so he found his way to a neighborhood park, put on his sunglasses and called for a cab. On the way back to his apartment, Jun wondered if Sho had woken yet, discovered him gone. Discovered the pants gone. But Sho hadn’t called or left him any messages.
He smiled as he got home. Work was light today - just a CM shoot later that afternoon with the others. He had all morning to plan and plot.
But as soon as he grabbed the garbage bag, felt the weight of the horrible pants within, he knew what he wanted to do. He opened one of his kitchen drawers and grabbed his best pair of scissors.
“Sho-kun,” he muttered to himself. “I’m sorry.” He made the first snip and couldn’t even stifle his maniacal giggles. “Actually, I’m not sorry.”
--
Later that day, Jun was feeling great as he and Aiba got out of the company car that had picked them up. He hadn’t given Aiba any specifics, only hinting that “the fake jeans are no more.” Aiba had nearly cried in joy in the back of the car and was only now settling down again as they greeted the staff.
“We’re still waiting on Ninomiya-san and Ohno-san, but Sakurai-san is here already,” one of the staff told them, and Jun tried to keep his face neutral.
Aiba elbowed him. “You think...you think Sho-chan’s going to murder you in your sleep? They’re his favorite pants, you know.”
Jun was pretty satisfied with himself. “He can do whatever he wants.” There was no going back anyhow, since there was now a garbage bag in his building’s dumpster full of several hundred pieces of fake jeans. After the scissors, there’d been the pinking shears. Then the scissors again. He’d stopped himself just short of putting bits of fabric in the blender - that would have just ruined a perfectly good blender.
Aiba opened the door, and Jun followed, all set to prepare for filming and treat Sho as a colleague the way they always were extremely careful to do after a night together. But his joy and his preparation were all for nothing.
Sho was sitting on the couch, looking through his phone. And he was wearing the fake jeans.
The staff walking behind him accidentally collided with his back, he’d stopped so quickly in his tracks. Even Aiba let out a gasp in confusion.
Sho looked up, calm and self-assured. “Oh. Aiba-chan, Matsujun. Hello.”
“Hey Sho-chan,” Aiba muttered quickly, heading straight for the stylists.
Sho snapped his phone closed, getting up and stretching, taking extra time to pull up the god-awful pants before giving Jun a winning idol smile. “Let’s work hard together, shall we?”
--
The CM shoot had been a near disaster. Fourteen takes and all because Jun was utterly distracted. Even Leader was growing annoyed with him. But it all wrapped up well, and Aiba must have said something to the others because he and Sho were left alone in the changing room.
He was just pulling on his own clothes again when he sensed Sho at his back, fingers suddenly wrapping around his wrist. The room was devoid of staff, so Sho took pleasure in wrenching Jun around so they were face to face.
“Oh, Matsumoto-san,” Sho said in his very best “I know everything about you” voice. “Did you really think that was going to work?”
He blinked. “I’m sorry?” he asked, playing dumb.
Sho smiled, and Jun knew he was in deep, deep shit. “I have to admit, I didn’t know what you were up to until...oh, the second time you wanted to get me off...” Jun could feel his cheeks burn in embarrassment. “...but really, you need to plan better.”
Jun stiffened as Sho pushed Jun’s hand downward, letting him touch the jersey fabric, right over the fake pocket of the stupid fake jeans. “I hate these pants, Sho. I hate them more than you can possibly imagine.”
“I know you do,” Sho said triumphantly. Jun’s heart sank, and Sho patted his cheek.
“That’s why I bought five more pairs.”