Don't Fall Asleep
Title: Don't Fall Asleep
Rating: G
Pairing: Ohno/Aiba
Word Count: 852
Summary: Ohno has always been the type to fall asleep easily.
Warnings/Notes: Three vignettes of Tennen being sweet and clingy when Ohno is sleepy, simply because I want it. Um, we can call it the Don't Fall Asleep series (lol) because I think there will be more? Ohno's a sleepyhead after all, and my mind, a fertile ground for Tennen hijinks. ♥
DEBUT
They are young, their voices only barely beginning to take responsibility for the deeper notes that they are expected to reach. Ohno feels a mounting sense of anxiety in that thrumming darkness. Their first concert, their first song-now that was over, things could only become easier, right? He tries to convince himself as the light cues them to start dancing to the next song.
No one knows his name, no one knows his face, no one knows him. He looks out at the crowd and squints to find an uchiwa that bears his face. Years of jazz and traditional dancing could not mask his heavy feet that night.
A couple of hours later, the audience's cheers is still in his ears. He’s nowhere near absorbing what just happened that night; no Junior show or appearance he’s ever been in could have ever prepared him. The views rushing past the van’s window become strange to his eyes, as if he’s been warped into a different territory altogether. He wonders about how his life has changed in just one night.
What am I even doing, he thinks, as his head bops forward in a warning. It probably looks a little comedic to anyone who witnesses it. He is bone-tired, physically and mentally.
“Ohno-kun, your place is near,” the bright-eyed, subdued boy beside him says. “Don’t fall asleep.”
A chilly hand curls over his. Ohno is too tired to be baffled and lets his younger bandmate do as he pleases. He doesn’t fall asleep; instead, he watches Tokyo pass him by. Aiba breathes evenly beside him, his hand a strange mix of clammy and reassuring.
He realizes the feeling he couldn’t name all day, sitting right there in his belly: dread. Exhaling, he flips his hands over so that they are palm-to-palm. Aiba’s eyes flutter open.
“Want to talk?”
He doesn’t, not in particular, but cracks up at Aiba’s serious tone anyway.
MIDNIGHT
The room smells like Jun’s cloying perfume and the distinctly boy smell of five barely grown-up men cramped together. Jun presses replay again as Sho grumbles, “no, no, before that, right?” On the small TV, Ohno watches himself spin and run backwards. It is strangely hypnotic.
Nino stands up from his spot on the bed and ransacks the mini-bar. “I’m getting one,” he says, the pop of the beer can opening echoing in the room.
“You’re paying for that,” Jun mutters, too tired to glare at him. Ohno watches them and sinks further down the headboard. The warmth of Aiba, who’s perched beside him, is inviting. He leans his head and lands on Aiba’s bony shoulder.
“Beer helps with thinking, right Sho-chan?” Nino says, throwing a can to Sho, who barely manages to catch it.
“Right, beer.”
Ohno almost purrs as Aiba rubs just the right spot on his ear. “Me too please,” Aiba says. Ohno doesn’t even flinch when the can dangerously rushes a couple of centimeters past his nose.
Jun sighs. “Okay you drunkards, I found it. See how we lost the audience’s attention on that one?” He scrubs through the five of them dancing, disjointed and sloppy. Ohno silently agrees with him but feels too happy where he is. It’s been a long day, and if he could just doze off for a little bit…
Aiba gulps the beer like a thirsty sailor. “Don’t fall asleep,” he whispers, mouth close to Ohno’s ears. “Even I can’t save you from Matsujun.”
Ohno laughs. He coughs and nods solemnly when Jun shoots him a sharp look.
ALARM
“What time will this end?” Ohno mumbles to no one in particular, eyes opening.
In the greenroom, it’s only him and Aiba. The other three are out in the studio, filming their singing parts. Aiba looks up from the soba that he’s demolishing and shrugs. “It should end pretty early, right?”
“Right,” Ohno replies, stretching with abandon on the couch. The magazine on his belly slips to the floor. He holds his pose like a cat.
“No plans to pick that up?” Aiba says, amused.
“Aiba-chaaaaan,” Ohno whines, curling into a compact ball of jeans and flannel on the couch as he squirms to find another comfortable position.
Aiba giggles. “Yes, yes.” He unfolds his legs and stands up to reach for the magazine. Of course, it’s one on fishing. Not that Aiba had expected anything else. “I thought you wanted to keep your fishing magazines in mint condition?”
Ohno shakes his head. “Nino says no one collects fishing magazines.” The cushion gives way as Aiba sits by his chest. He sets the magazine aside and watches Ohno breathing. In, out. In, out.
Is he serious? Aiba thinks. He pokes him at the middle, eliciting only a strange gurgling.
“Oi.”
No reaction.
“Don’t fall asleep, you’re up next you know!”
“Hmn,” Ohno says, pouting, eyes still shut close.
Were it anyone else, Aiba would hesitate. But since it’s Ohno-well. Aiba just couldn’t resist.
Minutes later, he nurses his ribs that were kicked so spectacularly. “Idiot,” Ohno grouses, leaning over his stomach. Aiba can still hear the echoes of Ohno’s high-pitched, tortured laughter. Tickles are the best alarms, after all.
Rating: G
Pairing: Ohno/Aiba
Word Count: 852
Summary: Ohno has always been the type to fall asleep easily.
Warnings/Notes: Three vignettes of Tennen being sweet and clingy when Ohno is sleepy, simply because I want it. Um, we can call it the Don't Fall Asleep series (lol) because I think there will be more? Ohno's a sleepyhead after all, and my mind, a fertile ground for Tennen hijinks. ♥
DEBUT
They are young, their voices only barely beginning to take responsibility for the deeper notes that they are expected to reach. Ohno feels a mounting sense of anxiety in that thrumming darkness. Their first concert, their first song-now that was over, things could only become easier, right? He tries to convince himself as the light cues them to start dancing to the next song.
No one knows his name, no one knows his face, no one knows him. He looks out at the crowd and squints to find an uchiwa that bears his face. Years of jazz and traditional dancing could not mask his heavy feet that night.
A couple of hours later, the audience's cheers is still in his ears. He’s nowhere near absorbing what just happened that night; no Junior show or appearance he’s ever been in could have ever prepared him. The views rushing past the van’s window become strange to his eyes, as if he’s been warped into a different territory altogether. He wonders about how his life has changed in just one night.
What am I even doing, he thinks, as his head bops forward in a warning. It probably looks a little comedic to anyone who witnesses it. He is bone-tired, physically and mentally.
“Ohno-kun, your place is near,” the bright-eyed, subdued boy beside him says. “Don’t fall asleep.”
A chilly hand curls over his. Ohno is too tired to be baffled and lets his younger bandmate do as he pleases. He doesn’t fall asleep; instead, he watches Tokyo pass him by. Aiba breathes evenly beside him, his hand a strange mix of clammy and reassuring.
He realizes the feeling he couldn’t name all day, sitting right there in his belly: dread. Exhaling, he flips his hands over so that they are palm-to-palm. Aiba’s eyes flutter open.
“Want to talk?”
He doesn’t, not in particular, but cracks up at Aiba’s serious tone anyway.
MIDNIGHT
The room smells like Jun’s cloying perfume and the distinctly boy smell of five barely grown-up men cramped together. Jun presses replay again as Sho grumbles, “no, no, before that, right?” On the small TV, Ohno watches himself spin and run backwards. It is strangely hypnotic.
Nino stands up from his spot on the bed and ransacks the mini-bar. “I’m getting one,” he says, the pop of the beer can opening echoing in the room.
“You’re paying for that,” Jun mutters, too tired to glare at him. Ohno watches them and sinks further down the headboard. The warmth of Aiba, who’s perched beside him, is inviting. He leans his head and lands on Aiba’s bony shoulder.
“Beer helps with thinking, right Sho-chan?” Nino says, throwing a can to Sho, who barely manages to catch it.
“Right, beer.”
Ohno almost purrs as Aiba rubs just the right spot on his ear. “Me too please,” Aiba says. Ohno doesn’t even flinch when the can dangerously rushes a couple of centimeters past his nose.
Jun sighs. “Okay you drunkards, I found it. See how we lost the audience’s attention on that one?” He scrubs through the five of them dancing, disjointed and sloppy. Ohno silently agrees with him but feels too happy where he is. It’s been a long day, and if he could just doze off for a little bit…
Aiba gulps the beer like a thirsty sailor. “Don’t fall asleep,” he whispers, mouth close to Ohno’s ears. “Even I can’t save you from Matsujun.”
Ohno laughs. He coughs and nods solemnly when Jun shoots him a sharp look.
ALARM
“What time will this end?” Ohno mumbles to no one in particular, eyes opening.
In the greenroom, it’s only him and Aiba. The other three are out in the studio, filming their singing parts. Aiba looks up from the soba that he’s demolishing and shrugs. “It should end pretty early, right?”
“Right,” Ohno replies, stretching with abandon on the couch. The magazine on his belly slips to the floor. He holds his pose like a cat.
“No plans to pick that up?” Aiba says, amused.
“Aiba-chaaaaan,” Ohno whines, curling into a compact ball of jeans and flannel on the couch as he squirms to find another comfortable position.
Aiba giggles. “Yes, yes.” He unfolds his legs and stands up to reach for the magazine. Of course, it’s one on fishing. Not that Aiba had expected anything else. “I thought you wanted to keep your fishing magazines in mint condition?”
Ohno shakes his head. “Nino says no one collects fishing magazines.” The cushion gives way as Aiba sits by his chest. He sets the magazine aside and watches Ohno breathing. In, out. In, out.
Is he serious? Aiba thinks. He pokes him at the middle, eliciting only a strange gurgling.
“Oi.”
No reaction.
“Don’t fall asleep, you’re up next you know!”
“Hmn,” Ohno says, pouting, eyes still shut close.
Were it anyone else, Aiba would hesitate. But since it’s Ohno-well. Aiba just couldn’t resist.
Minutes later, he nurses his ribs that were kicked so spectacularly. “Idiot,” Ohno grouses, leaning over his stomach. Aiba can still hear the echoes of Ohno’s high-pitched, tortured laughter. Tickles are the best alarms, after all.