fic for harinezumi_kun (1/2)
For: harinezumi_kun
From: gomushroom
Title: Twelve Summers or What You Will
Pairing/Focus: Nino/Ohno, Nino/Jun, Nino/Aiba, Sho/Jun
Rating: Light R
Warnings: Genderfluid!Ohno, genderswitch!Sho, polyamory lifestyle, not enough magic for a magical AU fic, loose application of soulmate trope.
Summary: One of Ohno’s ultimate assignments as Nino’s fairy god has always been Nino’s soulmate arrangement with Jun.
Notes: A part of the title is a rip-off of Twelfth Night, which had been an inspiration even if it didn't really stick at the end; there’re also quotes from Rakuen, just saying.
Dear harinezumi_kun, I am extremely nervous with this fic. I tried to incorporate many things from your prompts-several of them were unfamiliar at first, it had been a great challenge writing this along with the extremely fun research. I also saw you played with fairy god concept (brilliantly) before; this fic is just my trying to play with the ideas a bit further. I hope you'll enjoy this ♥! Dear those who held my (trembling) hands through and through, you guys are the greatest, I love you. Dear nino_mod, thank you so much for everything ♥! Lastly, Dear Nino, you're 30, happy birthday!
As soon as the light dims on the baby’s room, Ohno eases his way toward the farthest box. He hovers above the box, filling his vision with a sleeping small figure wrapped tight in white blankets. He reaches out, not caring about the wide smile splitting his face. This is simply one the best days in his life. His fingers wave just centimeters above the baby.
“It’s an honor to finally see you,” he softly murmured. The tip of his finger taps the tip of the tiny nose, and a single yellow spark alights gently. “Nino.”
“Stay still, will you? I can’t do this if you’re shifting around,” Ohno insists, hands clumsily trying to fix Nino’s tie to no avail.
“I don’t know why you insist on me wearing tie if you can’t even help me with it.”
“I can help you with this.” Ohno pulls the fabric again, lining both ends parallel, focusing on the next loop. Another one going on the underside, and then another tug. Almost there. “I have to help you with this.”
Nino’s gaze moves down to the empty space beneath Ohno’s feet, then up to the materializing tips of light blue wings behind Ohno’s back. “You’re floating, old man.”
“Am not now.” Ohno hastily descends with a thud, the pads of his toes back on the floor again and his eyes still fixed on the unfastened necktie. “I’m just nervous, okay? You make me nervous. I am not supposed to be nervous. I am not.”
Nino laughs gracelessly in his face.
Half an hour later, Ohno stretches back against their old couch admiring his work. He motions Nino to do a turn in the center of their living room.
“No.”
He motions again, satisfied grin and shining eyes. He is as proud as someone who ties ties could be. “Oh, come on. Just one turn.”
“No.” Nino’s already shuffling back to the bedroom before Ohno’s finished talking. In the bedroom, Nino sighs loudly, knowing Ohno can hear him rummaging about the shelves. “Now you’re just trying to make me nervous,” he shouts.
“You should be!” Ohno shouts back, barely hiding his chuckles.
“I heard that,” Nino absently replies. He finds his phone and his suit jacket, picking them up to go. He only needs a fresh pair of socks and then he can go. The sooner he’s gone, the sooner he can end the night; he definitely doesn’t have any intention of staying longer than he has to.
“You are meant to be nervous.”
“Meant to be, my ass!” He deliberately slams his top shelf, a statement he doesn’t mind giving right now. Ohno has certainly been persuasive and accommodating all day; it annoys him to no end. Putting his jacket on, he takes a glance in the full-length mirror and kind of likes the way he look.
Ohno is beaming at him when he steps back to the living room, floating on his seat, legs crossed and still with the same smug expression.
“Stop floating!” Nino snaps, a little too loud for a small apartment. “It’s extremely creepy if you do that when you’re sitting down like that.”
“I’m so excited.”
Ohno pats his shoulder, tugging his suit, straightening both sleeves, making sure Nino’s all ready.
“This is annoying. You don’t have to be overly nervous about this.”
“I know,” Ohno answers lightly, picking lint off Nino’s sleeve. “But you don’t have to be either.”
“Stop saying that. I’m not nervous,” Nino says, a little bit too fast to convince both Ohno and himself. “Are you trying to keep me home instead?”
“No, no, no. We can’t have you home tonight. You’re not meant to be home tonight.”
“I’m beginning to hate those words.” Nino holds his chin up high, allowing Ohno to fix his collar. “You owe me big for this. I won’t do this if you didn’t beg, implore, and importune in the first place.”
“I sure did.” Ohno straightens up, nodding his head enthusiastically before patting Nino’s chest for the last time. “All ready. Now, you’re sure you remember the place?”
“It doesn’t matter. You’d be around to drag me back in the right direction should I try to escape this.”
“True, but still.”
“I remember. I also have the directions you asked me to print this morning in my back pocket. I have my phone so you can track me if I as much as take a wrong turn. And you’re going to be literally three floating steps behind. It does not matter.”
“It does matter. You always do,” Ohno nods and whispers.
In the following silence, he leans forward, closing in, giving Nino a solid full kiss. Fluttering his eyes shut, Nino wraps his hand on Ohno’s waist, keeping him on tight hold, brushing the tip of Ohno’s shirt, humming appreciatively when Ohno’s tongue slips in. He sighs at the warmth, and there they are, crowding the entryway. The night is still young, and he needs to go soon; then he feels Ohno slipping gradually upward, causing his eyes to open immediately.
He pulls himself back, trying to nudge Ohno away and failing, arms still around Ohno. He feels Ohno’s mouth move down to peck him on his cheek, and the gently flapping tips of light blue wings fill his view.
“You’re floating! Again!” He halfheartedly shoves Ohno back, getting him to land with no grace and another excited grin.
“I can’t help it. I’m nervous.”
“That’s it. I think you nibbled enough.” Nino runs both his palms down the front of his suit jacket. He’ll smell like Ohno’s for a while, a nice comfort that’ll keep him calm.
Ohno drops a peck on Nino’s cheek, a compliment, and waves him off. “Have a nice night.”
Nino shoots him a short pouty glare and turns promptly to the door.
When the door clacks shut, Nino stops, staring at the ugly carpet of his dim apartment hall, allowing himself to let out the short pants he’s been holding in all afternoon. Ohno will know but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s firm on saying that he isn’t nervous in case Ohno decides to push the matter further since nerves can even begin to explain the tugging he’s constantly feeling at the moment; it’s unnerving, exciting and new.
He fists and unfists his palm, revealing a damp surface. He feels the strong tingles, and from the tips of his fingers a gleam of bright chartreuse dances. It hits him stronger than he’s ever remembered, as if mocking him, exasperating him, branding him.
He never wants this, Nino tells himself, yet inevitably sometimes it rears up and pins him, leaving him no choice. He fists his palm, extinguishing the vivid gleam, letting out an audible sigh. He half hopes that Ohno is still on the other side of the door, watching as always, and knowing that he didn’t want arrangement, perhaps will never want the arrangement, and confessing that he only wants Ohno and nothing else.
“Just get going, Nino!” Ohno shouts from inside the apartment.
“I am!” Nino grumbles, kicking the door for good measure before finally walking toward the stairs.
Nino shifts his gaze from the paper in his hand to the building in front of him. An evening cold breeze chides him as he stands motionless in a small alley. The place is fancy if the dim soft light inside and the small dining crowd he saw through the window are any indication.
He enters and requests his reservation details while internally cursing Ohno for arranging such luxury over a simple arrangement. “I have a reservation for Ninomiya.”
The maître d' leads him to the second floor. Empty tables, soft lights and sounds of a violin, distant and rapid, fill the air. At the far corner table, a young man is busy fiddling with his phone, leaning back in his chair, calm and composed.
“Your table, sir.”
At the sound of the maître d's voice, the young man looks up, airy and confident, looking startling in a suit, horrible multi-colored shirt, checkered tie, and something else that Nino can’t figure out yet.
“Have a seat,” he says with a deep voice and piercing glance; Nino has to remind himself that he wants to hate the man but he nods as he watches the man set his phone aside immediately.
Waiting for Nino to stop fussing with his napkin and settle in his seat, he dismisses the maître d' promptly. “Could you bring the order out now, please?”
Nino might hate this arrangement but there’s so little he can do, especially now that he’s sharing the same table with his match, the annoying creep Matsumoto. An unfamiliar rush goes through his blood and he curses the way his body reacts to the young man whose gaze is currently taking his face in casually.
“You already know my name, right?”
“I do,” Nino answers, looking straight back at the man’s face. He’s not going to lose so early in the arrangement. If the man wants to skip pleasantries he’s not going to argue. “I read your file thoroughly, which graciously doesn’t include your photo, Matsumoto Jun.”
Nino’s sure that Jun’s fairy and most likely Ohno are listening too. Hell, the whole fairy department can be listening for all he cares. He doesn’t give a damn. He had made this decision the moment Ohno presented the file a month ago. It wasn’t the easiest, but he doesn’t see any other way to wrap this up. It’s about time he came clean with his intentions, set forward his wishes and just get on with it.
Nino tries to reason and begins to present his point as soon as the main course is served. “So, you’re okay with this arrangement?”
“I’m not the one making the choice here. Neither are you.”
“And don’t you think it’s going to be a difficult?”
Jun hums in response, appearing to be fully absorbed in his dish, but Nino knows he’s listening; he pushes his argument further.
“So extremely difficult that we should stop right here right now and end this. I don’t want anything to do with this,” Nino points out, with a tone that he’s hoping will be interpreted as irreversible. “I only agreed to come here tonight to cancel this arrangement to your face. But apparently you don’t seem to share the same interest.”
Jun sets down his fork and knife, slowly chewing his food, before leaning back against his chair to give Nino a blank stare.
Purple hot sparks flash, creating something halo-like, and Nino can’t say that he doesn’t feel a rush seeing that. Those are the sparks meant for him, and for him only. No one is able to see them except him, and somehow the thought makes him swell with something he doesn’t recognize.
“I never thought we’d already have a disagreement from the very beginning. You can’t just cancel the arrangement. That’s insane.”
“I am making it known that I don’t have any interest in you at all,” Nino insists, undeterred.
“Right now,” Jun points out. “Right now, you don’t.”
“You’re not the kind of terrible match who would abuse power and start ordering me around, are you?” Nino isn’t entirely sure himself, yet he keeps his chin up, clinging to faint hope, exceedingly faint now that he’s sitting across from Jun.
“I do like you.”
Nino freezes in his seat as if Jun had frozen him in his seat, limiting everything, crushing his only hope. He had been trying to make Jun see his point, setting himself up as an unlikeable person, being difficult, but perhaps that wasn’t the right strategy. Meeting Jun’s gaze, he sees pale purple zephyr dance behind the man’s chair mocking him, binding his gaze in a trance before he’s able to catch his breath.
“You feel that, don't you?” Jun says, reaching for his wine glass and taking a few small sips. “I feel it too; that’s just how it works.”
“I don’t-I don’t think that’d be best.”
“Gone is that all-mouth attitude with a simple demonstration, I see.” Jun sits back, watching Nino now shifting in his seat even more uncomfortably. “You do acknowledge the power. Well, it’s hard to ignore it, knowing that you’ll probably experience it even more intensely than I will since you seem hell-bent to resist it. Yet, you continue to fight it.”
Nino blinks, stiffening at the suggestion. But he doesn’t show it. Not now.
“I am tempted to ask if is there anyone waiting you that makes it worth fighting this,” Jun lightly points out, catching an escaped flinch across the table. “Ah. So there is someone. There has to be someone. You can’t hate me, or the arrangement, that much.”
“You’re vain.”
“I am. Sometimes I am.” Jun shrugs, tapping his fingers absently as he waits for Nino’s next remark.
All of a sudden, Nino feels the uncomfortable urge to reach for those fingers, clasping them in his palm, and rewind time and start the night all over again, with a different approach. It’s frightening how much he can read Jun, and he can only imagine it’s that much easier for Jun to read him.
“I hate you,” he says instead.
“You’re trying to divert the topic,” Jun retorts, tone hot as his eyes darken slightly before going back to sparking with amusement, “and you’ve failed miserably.”
Ohno is deeply focused on his steak when Sho nearly jumps from her seat, barely holding herself, at Jun’s last jab at Nino, almost knocking her wine glass over if not for Ohno’s quick reflexes.
“Dammit, Jun! That’s not what we’ve discussed!” she hisses, carefully covering her face with her hand, trying to compose herself without compromising her makeup. “You’re not supposed be hostile and shit. Not now.”
Sho scoffs loudly when Ohno says nothing after setting the glass a bit farther from her reach. “Satoshi-kun, we need to do something!”
“No, we don’t.”
“But Jun is being a jerk!” Sho persists. “We can’t have this arrangement destroyed by his attitude. I’m so going to teach him a lesson when we’re home.”
“Nino isn’t any better,” Ohno replies absently, still devouring his steak, some dish he can’t even pronounce. The meat is impossibly good; Sho really knows places for good food.
“Satoshi-kun,” Sho reasons, “we need to make this right.”
“No, we don’t.”
Sho is about continue her weak protest when Ohno switches his focus to glance at the far corner table where Nino is currently slumping in his seat, staring at his lap. He’s trying to figure out his next move, Ohno figures, while Jun is staring his match down with a calculated stare.
“See?”
“See what?”
“They’re terrible at this. We need to interfere-“
“No, we don’t.”
“But-“
“We don’t, Sho. We do not interfere with the arrangement,” Ohno says. He turns and fixes his determined eyes on Sho’s. “Your Jun may be hostile and shit. He may be a jerk. And Nino may try to back out from arrangement but we don’t need to make anything right. It’s the arrangement. It is right.”
“Point,” Sho nods, “but-“
“Eat your salad. Let’s not waste this great food.”
Sho huffs again. Ohno has a point, she hates to admit. He has a fine point. She’s just being a worrywart and it won’t help anyone, especially now. She picks up her fork, holding it still in midair as her focus stays on the far corner table. Jun hasn’t made a move yet, she thinks.
“And there’s a drip of sauce on your tunic,” Ohno helpfully points out.
Sho’s eyes dart down and she squeaks, rather loud. “Oh, fuck.”
“How’s the food?”
“It’s great,” Nino says, and when Jun doesn’t seem convinced, he adds, “This whole place is unnerving, that’s all. The food is good.”
“I thought so too. But my nagging fairy thought otherwise. She was saying that I need to make a good first impression and that we should have this dinner at this fancy place when I can just fix you something fancy at home.”
“I thought you were the type who went out all the time. Some social butterfly type.”
“You thought wrong,” Jun replies, a bit too quick, and Nino hastily rejoices on finally hitting a sensitive nerve.
“But I’ll take that as compliment nonetheless,” Jun adds, settling his fork aside before meeting Nino’s eyes with determination. “I refuse to let your preposterous reluctance to accept this arrangement spoil my fate.”
“You’re damn serious about this, aren’t you?”
For the first time tonight, Jun smiles wide, all teeth and eerily beautiful. “I’m damn serious.”
Nino knows when he’s lost a battle; his breath comes short, taken away by either the power or the man in front of him. Either way they’re stuck together in this goddamn arrangement, and Nino can’t possibly resist. Jun, as he finds out, can and doesn’t hesitate to overpower him to make a point. Nino still believes he doesn’t have anything to lose yet it seems he won’t be getting what he wants; the impression only exasperates him more.
Still, that smile is a killer, Nino must admit.
“Now, when should we have our next date?” Jun casually takes out his planner from his jacket, as the waiter pours their coffee. He looks up to meet Nino’s confused expression. “We need to work to make fate work. I suggest, or rather insist, we have dates.”
“We don’t have to have dates. I’m busy, you’re busy. Let’s save ourselves from each other!”
“I can have Sho, my fairy, deal with my schedule for a while,” Jun says, pointedly ignoring Nino’s weak reasoning. “That’d allow me to take a few day offs. Then, for some additional notes…”
Jun continues to scribble more and more, and more while Nino is growing more and more curious across the table with every point Jun takes down, all serious and thoughtful.
Nino leans forward slightly. “What is it? Why are you taking so many additional notes?”
“It’s necessary to put all these new-found facts down now.”
“New-found facts? About what?”
“About you.”
“About me?”
“About you.” Jun stops writing and looks up to find Nino’s mouth slightly open in awe. He then reads his note: “Ninomiya doesn't like red meat, or perhaps meat in general-it’s worth noting, I’ll look into it later. Ninomiya also doesn’t eat his vegetables-the fact that I find amusing and sad at the same time.”
“You should add,” Nino retorts before he can stop himself, “that I don’t like your flashy wardrobe, that it hurts my eyes, and that I still want to cancel this arrangement.”
Jun’s eyes turn fiery in an instant and Nino honestly suspects he’s going to stir up the purple zephyr haze harsher. He waits for the lash to come for a few seconds, his palms wet as he instinctively leans back slowly into his chair.
“Fair enough,” Jun manages to let out. “I shall put those down then.”
Shifting uneasily, Nino meets Jun’s eyes. They are no longer fiery but suspiciously friendly, a bit too open for his comfort, and he lets out a relieved breath. He didn’t know he was holding it. All he knows is that he needs to keep on fighting this.
They stand on in front of the restaurant, cold winter breeze hitting their faces, waiting. Nino notices that once Jun is wrapped in his fluffy winter coat, he looks amazing. None of that flimsy shirt is in sight anymore and it’s so much better; he needs to stop being attracted to the guy.
“Do you need me to walk you home?” Jun casually asks. Nino’s surprised expression draws a warm chuckle from Jun. “Okay. I assume you don’t.”
“You assume correctly.”
“Just checking.”
“I- What are you trying to do now? Isn’t it enough that I agreed to comply after your threat?”
“It wasn’t a threat. I was only delivering a very persuasive demonstration, that’s all.” He turns to find Nino openly staring with a pout and a scolding look. “And I wasn’t trying to do anything just now. I was just asking to check whether you need me to walk you home. Or not.”
“Not!”
“Now, that’s rude,” Jun reminds him mildly. “Even if I’m beginning see how rudeness suits you. Somehow. I’m just going to see how it goes.”
Nino isn’t sure if the power is what gives Jun all his confidence, or if it’s in his nature to play with words like that. It still doesn’t settle nicely for him. Jun is awkward, in his opinion: one with such flashy fashion is definitely awkward and Nino isn’t going to give in easily.
“I’ll be taking my leave now, then.” Jun bows slightly.
“Fine.”
“It was nice to finally meet you, Ninomiya.”
The sound of his name rolling out from Jun's lips shouldn't thrill him. “Oh, fine, whatever.”
Jun smiles again, his best smile tonight. And damn, that power, Nino curses. Damn, damn, damn it.
“Good night. Get home safely, all right?” Jun leans forward, catches Nino’s small chin, tips it up, and drops a light kiss on his cheek before walking away.
Jun’s lips are warm and soft. He smells of wine, and a blush blooms on Nino’s cold cheek. Unwillingly, he might add as realization hits. He stands a little longer, hand going up to touch his burning cheek. “Damn it.”
Because Ohno will be home and he doesn’t want to talk about what happened, not tonight, not when Jun’s soft kiss is still lingering in his mind, Nino decides against going home. He enters the dim bar. It’s a another slow night, he can already tell. He notices few of the regulars are seated on their usual tables, and he goes straight to the bar.
“Oh, Nino.” From behind the counter, Aiba welcomes him. “I thought today was your day off.”
“It is.” Nino discards his suit jacket on the counter, climbing on the stool. Both hands on the counter, he meets Aiba’s curious eyes before sighing and laying his cheek on the cool surface.
Aiba raises his eyebrow at the sight but doesn't question further. “So, beer?”
“Or something stronger. A lot stronger.”
He already slides a tall glass in front of Nino’s face. “For starters, let’s have this to cool you off first.”
As he watches Nino finish his beer in big gulps, forcing the bitter cool liquid down, Aiba pours himself a small amount of sparkling water in a glass and waits.
“Who performed today?” Nino asks as he surveys the stage, empty at the moment except for the stand mic and idling karaoke machine; jazz music is playing in the background, almost muted, drawing nothing. Nothing much, but it’s a weekday anyway so you don’t really expect much from it.
Aiba sips slowly, gazing at the empty stage as well. “A new kid. He was nervous. Almost failed to pull off his own tricks.”
Nino snorts a small laugh, sliding his empty glass toward Aiba for a refill, eyes still on the stage. He can hear Aiba shift immediately behind the counter. “You’re too kind. Accepting a new kid is hard on the business, right, even for a slow weekday.”
“Are we talking about the new kid tonight or the new kid back in the day?” Aiba sets aside the beer bottle. He leans forward on the counter, watching the empty stage with Nino. “I’m still putting the beer on your tab though.”
Nino chokes on his beer and Aiba laughs.
“Are you having a fight with Satoshi?” Aiba finally asks.
A few hours later, they are outside, sitting on the steps of the bar, huddled close, waiting for the taxi Aiba had called 10 minutes before. The bar is already locked behind them and Nino’s clinging to him drunkenly, stealing warmth.
“I will be,” Nino mumbles comfortably into Aiba’s neck as a hand twists around his waist to pull him even closer.
“I see.”
The taxi takes forever; Aiba then hums a song Nino doesn’t recognize as they snuggle close on a cold night.
“Are you okay now?” Aiba asks him after a while.
Nino opens his eyes. Is he okay? That’s a good question. He is, but he’s not. And he doesn’t know which one he should say so he says:
“I will be.”
“Good enough.”
When the taxi finally comes into view, Aiba waves his hands to flag it down, and then nudges Nino to stand. Together, firm and solid Aiba and wobbly drunken Nino walk toward the waiting open taxi door.
“Aiba-chan.” Nino tugs Aiba’s sleeve after he slides over to his seat.
“Mhmm?” Aiba tucks back strays of falling fringe behind Nino’s ear, letting his fingers brush and linger a while before stepping back and giving the address.
“Thank you.” Nino’s voice is soft, barely audible.
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you Monday? You’re performing some hot new stuff, right?”
Nino nods weakly.
“I can’t wait.” He signals to the driver to close the door. “Good night.”
Nino slumps against the seat sleepily as the taxi smoothly drives away, lulling him more into slumber as the sensation of Ohno’s solid kiss, Jun’s soft peck, and Aiba’s warm fingers emerge, clouding his hazy mind. It’s the beers, he tries to convince himself, shaking away the wild images forming freely as he tries to breathe evenly, wishing he had insisted more on that whiskey.
He finds Ohno curled asleep on their bed when he gets home. The bastard, he curses silently, probably faking his sleep altogether. He forces his mind to focus on discarding his clothes before throwing them haphazardly around the darkness of the bedroom. He crawls into the covers, facing away from Ohno, tugging the blankets a little bit too hard over to his side.
Ohno stirs before turning over toward Nino, wrapping his arm loosely around his waist, shifting unceremoniously too close in the distance Nino had set earlier.
“I hate you,” Nino whispers in response, eyes closed already.
Ohno nuzzles closer against him, breathes his welcome onto Nino’s neck, settling comfortably.
In the late morning, Nino, waking up slowly and feeling quite well rested, still hasn’t worked up the mood for a fight. His head throbs with dull pain. Nothing too sharp, but it steadily keeps at the back of his head. He almost wishes for a stronger headache, anything to distract him from Ohno’s body heat wrapping him warm and the glowing memory of last night.
“Coffee,” Nino mumbles toward the pillow as he nudges Ohno’s foot with his cold toes, receiving a grunt. “Coffee!”
Ohno complies eventually, dragging himself out of bed, grumbling and floating heedlessly. Nino is about to scold him for his wings knocking into the dresser, but then he reminds himself that he’s not talking to Ohno, not today, and curls back to sleep under the blanket.
Ohno still hovers, though keeping his distance, around the house even if Nino’s still mad at him, still mad at everything; he’d spent the whole weekend camping out in their small living room, his papers, notes and decks of cards scattered on the carpet as he practiced his tricks, battling frustration and a lack of concentration. Ohno doesn’t press further; he lets Nino be as he tries to ignore him. He lets Nino snuggle on winter nights when the heat in the apartment doesn’t suffice. He nods when Nino offhandedly suggests they need to build a fort to help insulate the heat.
After that night Jun doesn’t call or check up on him; Nino doesn’t want him to in the first place. He knows he will be meeting the man in two weeks and he’ll have two weeks to plan.
“I’m still not talking to you,” Nino impatiently retorts when a pair of boots comes into sight and stops beside him. “Also, how many times have I told you not to wear your dirty boots in the apartment?”
He slowly sets his study notes aside to look up, finding Ohno not only employing fishnet stockings that encase those knobby knees, a short black skirt with a small frilly apron, firm long fingers holding a tray with a tea pot, low cut neckline and a slung white tie, but also lush red lips, pink cheeks, brown curls in pigtails, and a stark white maid hairpiece.
“I’m not touching the floor,” Ohno says, bobbing a subtle curtsy now that Nino has taken in her appearance entirely.
“And no floating!” Nino scolds her.
“It’s harder without wings but I manage.” Ohno descends before she kneels and sits on her feet, still holding the tray. “I take it you’re hungry. You’ve been at this the whole afternoon. I brought tea and snacks.”
“You think you can pull this maid stunt off with me? I’m not twenty anymore, old man.”
“I know,” Ohno says, grinning, slowly setting the tray down on the carpet, smoothing her skirt, “but I’m out of fresh clothes.”
“Yeah, right.”
At Nino’s weak protest, Ohno reaches for the teapot and pours a mug and hands it to Nino. “Here you go.”
Considering his options-the sooner he lets Ohno settle in her place the better-Nino doesn’t utter a single protest about the tea. He lets Ohno unhurriedly arrange a few crackers on a small plate for him, setting aside the tray before all the questions he’s been holding in all week come out of his mouth: “Are you really going to let this happen? Are you going to let Jun take me?”
“I’m really going to let it happen,” Ohno begins, after an unsettling silence that seems to be forever. “Just like I’m going to let Jun take you.”
Nino is fast. He slams his mug on the tray, already leaping up to stomp out of the living room, but Ohno is faster, tackling Nino and dropping both of them on the floor, cushioning Nino’s fall with her body, pinning him on the floor the next second.
“I’m not done.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Out of breath, Nino looks away as he weakly tries to push Ohno away, causing sparks of yellow stars to glow on his hands. “Get off me. You’re just going to do nothing as this arrangement ruins my life, ruins our lives.”
“Nino,” Ohno chides him gently. It is harder to settle her legs on either side of Nino’s legs with the skirt but Ohno manages just fine, now straddling Nino and pressing close. “Just because Jun is taking you it doesn’t mean he’ll be getting rid of me. You need to understand that.”
“I don’t need to understand anything!”
“Yes, you do.” Ohno leans even closer, sounding calm. “This attitude won’t work on me, you know that already. This attitude never works on me.”
Light blue wings now flaps heavily against the ceiling as Nino averts his eyes from Ohno’s persistent stare, betraying Ohno’s cool charade and giving out a hint of desperation; Nino has known that Ohno, for all his coolness, has full control of his wings, except for moments of distress and excitement.
“That’s why I hate you even more.” He keeps his face straight. “And your boobs are pressing against my chest, annoyingly.”
“Why yes, they are.” A frown disappears from Ohno’s face. She looks down, giggling softly, pressing down further, letting all her body weight fall upon Nino. She squirms as a pair of hands squeezes her ass. “They so are.”
“I still hate you,” Nino mumbles as he tugs her down, asking for an open mouth wet kiss.
Twelve summers ago, Nino answers the door of his new apartment and meets a somehow familiar face. He’s about to swing the door closed without warning but the man speaks: “I should’ve been delivered in a box but that’d freak you out. So here I am with one instead.” The small man digs into his jeans pocket and takes out a small box and hands it to Nino.
Reflex works before logic and Nino is already frowning over the box in his palm in confusion. “Huh? Is this a delivery?”
He brings his gaze up to carefully look at the man on his doorstep; he clearly isn’t wearing any courier uniform, and he doesn’t have a nametag he can check. Just a simple pair of jeans, a snug light sweater, harmless and, Nino decides, somehow warm albeit non-descript.
“Well, you can put it that way. I’ll see you soon and happy 18th birthday, Nino.” The man smiles easily, shifting lightly on his feet, his eyes already looking beyond Nino’s shoulder, showing his open interest in Nino’s flat.
Nino turns away quickly, making sure that he isn’t opening his door too wide. The man couldn’t really see his living room from this angle but just in case. When he turns back, he meets an empty space that used to be the man. No one is on his doorstep anymore. He looks down at his hand, at the small box, still bewildered. He surveys the hallway, making sure that the man isn’t hiding in the corner before closing his door still in confusion.
The head of the department looks up from Ohno’s report and nods at him. “Well done, Ohno.”
Ohno beams proudly. “Thank you, Sir. I believe that trick was necessary.”
“Do you have any other points to report regarding your care?”
Ohno bows. “None that demands your immediate attention, Sir.”
“Just be ready for final relocation in a few days, okay?”
“I’ve been more than ready, Sir. Any time."
“Very well. You’re dismissed."
Part 2
From: gomushroom
Title: Twelve Summers or What You Will
Pairing/Focus: Nino/Ohno, Nino/Jun, Nino/Aiba, Sho/Jun
Rating: Light R
Warnings: Genderfluid!Ohno, genderswitch!Sho, polyamory lifestyle, not enough magic for a magical AU fic, loose application of soulmate trope.
Summary: One of Ohno’s ultimate assignments as Nino’s fairy god has always been Nino’s soulmate arrangement with Jun.
Notes: A part of the title is a rip-off of Twelfth Night, which had been an inspiration even if it didn't really stick at the end; there’re also quotes from Rakuen, just saying.
Dear harinezumi_kun, I am extremely nervous with this fic. I tried to incorporate many things from your prompts-several of them were unfamiliar at first, it had been a great challenge writing this along with the extremely fun research. I also saw you played with fairy god concept (brilliantly) before; this fic is just my trying to play with the ideas a bit further. I hope you'll enjoy this ♥! Dear those who held my (trembling) hands through and through, you guys are the greatest, I love you. Dear nino_mod, thank you so much for everything ♥! Lastly, Dear Nino, you're 30, happy birthday!
As soon as the light dims on the baby’s room, Ohno eases his way toward the farthest box. He hovers above the box, filling his vision with a sleeping small figure wrapped tight in white blankets. He reaches out, not caring about the wide smile splitting his face. This is simply one the best days in his life. His fingers wave just centimeters above the baby.
“It’s an honor to finally see you,” he softly murmured. The tip of his finger taps the tip of the tiny nose, and a single yellow spark alights gently. “Nino.”
“Stay still, will you? I can’t do this if you’re shifting around,” Ohno insists, hands clumsily trying to fix Nino’s tie to no avail.
“I don’t know why you insist on me wearing tie if you can’t even help me with it.”
“I can help you with this.” Ohno pulls the fabric again, lining both ends parallel, focusing on the next loop. Another one going on the underside, and then another tug. Almost there. “I have to help you with this.”
Nino’s gaze moves down to the empty space beneath Ohno’s feet, then up to the materializing tips of light blue wings behind Ohno’s back. “You’re floating, old man.”
“Am not now.” Ohno hastily descends with a thud, the pads of his toes back on the floor again and his eyes still fixed on the unfastened necktie. “I’m just nervous, okay? You make me nervous. I am not supposed to be nervous. I am not.”
Nino laughs gracelessly in his face.
Half an hour later, Ohno stretches back against their old couch admiring his work. He motions Nino to do a turn in the center of their living room.
“No.”
He motions again, satisfied grin and shining eyes. He is as proud as someone who ties ties could be. “Oh, come on. Just one turn.”
“No.” Nino’s already shuffling back to the bedroom before Ohno’s finished talking. In the bedroom, Nino sighs loudly, knowing Ohno can hear him rummaging about the shelves. “Now you’re just trying to make me nervous,” he shouts.
“You should be!” Ohno shouts back, barely hiding his chuckles.
“I heard that,” Nino absently replies. He finds his phone and his suit jacket, picking them up to go. He only needs a fresh pair of socks and then he can go. The sooner he’s gone, the sooner he can end the night; he definitely doesn’t have any intention of staying longer than he has to.
“You are meant to be nervous.”
“Meant to be, my ass!” He deliberately slams his top shelf, a statement he doesn’t mind giving right now. Ohno has certainly been persuasive and accommodating all day; it annoys him to no end. Putting his jacket on, he takes a glance in the full-length mirror and kind of likes the way he look.
Ohno is beaming at him when he steps back to the living room, floating on his seat, legs crossed and still with the same smug expression.
“Stop floating!” Nino snaps, a little too loud for a small apartment. “It’s extremely creepy if you do that when you’re sitting down like that.”
“I’m so excited.”
Ohno pats his shoulder, tugging his suit, straightening both sleeves, making sure Nino’s all ready.
“This is annoying. You don’t have to be overly nervous about this.”
“I know,” Ohno answers lightly, picking lint off Nino’s sleeve. “But you don’t have to be either.”
“Stop saying that. I’m not nervous,” Nino says, a little bit too fast to convince both Ohno and himself. “Are you trying to keep me home instead?”
“No, no, no. We can’t have you home tonight. You’re not meant to be home tonight.”
“I’m beginning to hate those words.” Nino holds his chin up high, allowing Ohno to fix his collar. “You owe me big for this. I won’t do this if you didn’t beg, implore, and importune in the first place.”
“I sure did.” Ohno straightens up, nodding his head enthusiastically before patting Nino’s chest for the last time. “All ready. Now, you’re sure you remember the place?”
“It doesn’t matter. You’d be around to drag me back in the right direction should I try to escape this.”
“True, but still.”
“I remember. I also have the directions you asked me to print this morning in my back pocket. I have my phone so you can track me if I as much as take a wrong turn. And you’re going to be literally three floating steps behind. It does not matter.”
“It does matter. You always do,” Ohno nods and whispers.
In the following silence, he leans forward, closing in, giving Nino a solid full kiss. Fluttering his eyes shut, Nino wraps his hand on Ohno’s waist, keeping him on tight hold, brushing the tip of Ohno’s shirt, humming appreciatively when Ohno’s tongue slips in. He sighs at the warmth, and there they are, crowding the entryway. The night is still young, and he needs to go soon; then he feels Ohno slipping gradually upward, causing his eyes to open immediately.
He pulls himself back, trying to nudge Ohno away and failing, arms still around Ohno. He feels Ohno’s mouth move down to peck him on his cheek, and the gently flapping tips of light blue wings fill his view.
“You’re floating! Again!” He halfheartedly shoves Ohno back, getting him to land with no grace and another excited grin.
“I can’t help it. I’m nervous.”
“That’s it. I think you nibbled enough.” Nino runs both his palms down the front of his suit jacket. He’ll smell like Ohno’s for a while, a nice comfort that’ll keep him calm.
Ohno drops a peck on Nino’s cheek, a compliment, and waves him off. “Have a nice night.”
Nino shoots him a short pouty glare and turns promptly to the door.
When the door clacks shut, Nino stops, staring at the ugly carpet of his dim apartment hall, allowing himself to let out the short pants he’s been holding in all afternoon. Ohno will know but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s firm on saying that he isn’t nervous in case Ohno decides to push the matter further since nerves can even begin to explain the tugging he’s constantly feeling at the moment; it’s unnerving, exciting and new.
He fists and unfists his palm, revealing a damp surface. He feels the strong tingles, and from the tips of his fingers a gleam of bright chartreuse dances. It hits him stronger than he’s ever remembered, as if mocking him, exasperating him, branding him.
He never wants this, Nino tells himself, yet inevitably sometimes it rears up and pins him, leaving him no choice. He fists his palm, extinguishing the vivid gleam, letting out an audible sigh. He half hopes that Ohno is still on the other side of the door, watching as always, and knowing that he didn’t want arrangement, perhaps will never want the arrangement, and confessing that he only wants Ohno and nothing else.
“Just get going, Nino!” Ohno shouts from inside the apartment.
“I am!” Nino grumbles, kicking the door for good measure before finally walking toward the stairs.
Nino shifts his gaze from the paper in his hand to the building in front of him. An evening cold breeze chides him as he stands motionless in a small alley. The place is fancy if the dim soft light inside and the small dining crowd he saw through the window are any indication.
He enters and requests his reservation details while internally cursing Ohno for arranging such luxury over a simple arrangement. “I have a reservation for Ninomiya.”
The maître d' leads him to the second floor. Empty tables, soft lights and sounds of a violin, distant and rapid, fill the air. At the far corner table, a young man is busy fiddling with his phone, leaning back in his chair, calm and composed.
“Your table, sir.”
At the sound of the maître d's voice, the young man looks up, airy and confident, looking startling in a suit, horrible multi-colored shirt, checkered tie, and something else that Nino can’t figure out yet.
“Have a seat,” he says with a deep voice and piercing glance; Nino has to remind himself that he wants to hate the man but he nods as he watches the man set his phone aside immediately.
Waiting for Nino to stop fussing with his napkin and settle in his seat, he dismisses the maître d' promptly. “Could you bring the order out now, please?”
Nino might hate this arrangement but there’s so little he can do, especially now that he’s sharing the same table with his match, the annoying creep Matsumoto. An unfamiliar rush goes through his blood and he curses the way his body reacts to the young man whose gaze is currently taking his face in casually.
“You already know my name, right?”
“I do,” Nino answers, looking straight back at the man’s face. He’s not going to lose so early in the arrangement. If the man wants to skip pleasantries he’s not going to argue. “I read your file thoroughly, which graciously doesn’t include your photo, Matsumoto Jun.”
Nino’s sure that Jun’s fairy and most likely Ohno are listening too. Hell, the whole fairy department can be listening for all he cares. He doesn’t give a damn. He had made this decision the moment Ohno presented the file a month ago. It wasn’t the easiest, but he doesn’t see any other way to wrap this up. It’s about time he came clean with his intentions, set forward his wishes and just get on with it.
Nino tries to reason and begins to present his point as soon as the main course is served. “So, you’re okay with this arrangement?”
“I’m not the one making the choice here. Neither are you.”
“And don’t you think it’s going to be a difficult?”
Jun hums in response, appearing to be fully absorbed in his dish, but Nino knows he’s listening; he pushes his argument further.
“So extremely difficult that we should stop right here right now and end this. I don’t want anything to do with this,” Nino points out, with a tone that he’s hoping will be interpreted as irreversible. “I only agreed to come here tonight to cancel this arrangement to your face. But apparently you don’t seem to share the same interest.”
Jun sets down his fork and knife, slowly chewing his food, before leaning back against his chair to give Nino a blank stare.
Purple hot sparks flash, creating something halo-like, and Nino can’t say that he doesn’t feel a rush seeing that. Those are the sparks meant for him, and for him only. No one is able to see them except him, and somehow the thought makes him swell with something he doesn’t recognize.
“I never thought we’d already have a disagreement from the very beginning. You can’t just cancel the arrangement. That’s insane.”
“I am making it known that I don’t have any interest in you at all,” Nino insists, undeterred.
“Right now,” Jun points out. “Right now, you don’t.”
“You’re not the kind of terrible match who would abuse power and start ordering me around, are you?” Nino isn’t entirely sure himself, yet he keeps his chin up, clinging to faint hope, exceedingly faint now that he’s sitting across from Jun.
“I do like you.”
Nino freezes in his seat as if Jun had frozen him in his seat, limiting everything, crushing his only hope. He had been trying to make Jun see his point, setting himself up as an unlikeable person, being difficult, but perhaps that wasn’t the right strategy. Meeting Jun’s gaze, he sees pale purple zephyr dance behind the man’s chair mocking him, binding his gaze in a trance before he’s able to catch his breath.
“You feel that, don't you?” Jun says, reaching for his wine glass and taking a few small sips. “I feel it too; that’s just how it works.”
“I don’t-I don’t think that’d be best.”
“Gone is that all-mouth attitude with a simple demonstration, I see.” Jun sits back, watching Nino now shifting in his seat even more uncomfortably. “You do acknowledge the power. Well, it’s hard to ignore it, knowing that you’ll probably experience it even more intensely than I will since you seem hell-bent to resist it. Yet, you continue to fight it.”
Nino blinks, stiffening at the suggestion. But he doesn’t show it. Not now.
“I am tempted to ask if is there anyone waiting you that makes it worth fighting this,” Jun lightly points out, catching an escaped flinch across the table. “Ah. So there is someone. There has to be someone. You can’t hate me, or the arrangement, that much.”
“You’re vain.”
“I am. Sometimes I am.” Jun shrugs, tapping his fingers absently as he waits for Nino’s next remark.
All of a sudden, Nino feels the uncomfortable urge to reach for those fingers, clasping them in his palm, and rewind time and start the night all over again, with a different approach. It’s frightening how much he can read Jun, and he can only imagine it’s that much easier for Jun to read him.
“I hate you,” he says instead.
“You’re trying to divert the topic,” Jun retorts, tone hot as his eyes darken slightly before going back to sparking with amusement, “and you’ve failed miserably.”
Ohno is deeply focused on his steak when Sho nearly jumps from her seat, barely holding herself, at Jun’s last jab at Nino, almost knocking her wine glass over if not for Ohno’s quick reflexes.
“Dammit, Jun! That’s not what we’ve discussed!” she hisses, carefully covering her face with her hand, trying to compose herself without compromising her makeup. “You’re not supposed be hostile and shit. Not now.”
Sho scoffs loudly when Ohno says nothing after setting the glass a bit farther from her reach. “Satoshi-kun, we need to do something!”
“No, we don’t.”
“But Jun is being a jerk!” Sho persists. “We can’t have this arrangement destroyed by his attitude. I’m so going to teach him a lesson when we’re home.”
“Nino isn’t any better,” Ohno replies absently, still devouring his steak, some dish he can’t even pronounce. The meat is impossibly good; Sho really knows places for good food.
“Satoshi-kun,” Sho reasons, “we need to make this right.”
“No, we don’t.”
Sho is about continue her weak protest when Ohno switches his focus to glance at the far corner table where Nino is currently slumping in his seat, staring at his lap. He’s trying to figure out his next move, Ohno figures, while Jun is staring his match down with a calculated stare.
“See?”
“See what?”
“They’re terrible at this. We need to interfere-“
“No, we don’t.”
“But-“
“We don’t, Sho. We do not interfere with the arrangement,” Ohno says. He turns and fixes his determined eyes on Sho’s. “Your Jun may be hostile and shit. He may be a jerk. And Nino may try to back out from arrangement but we don’t need to make anything right. It’s the arrangement. It is right.”
“Point,” Sho nods, “but-“
“Eat your salad. Let’s not waste this great food.”
Sho huffs again. Ohno has a point, she hates to admit. He has a fine point. She’s just being a worrywart and it won’t help anyone, especially now. She picks up her fork, holding it still in midair as her focus stays on the far corner table. Jun hasn’t made a move yet, she thinks.
“And there’s a drip of sauce on your tunic,” Ohno helpfully points out.
Sho’s eyes dart down and she squeaks, rather loud. “Oh, fuck.”
“How’s the food?”
“It’s great,” Nino says, and when Jun doesn’t seem convinced, he adds, “This whole place is unnerving, that’s all. The food is good.”
“I thought so too. But my nagging fairy thought otherwise. She was saying that I need to make a good first impression and that we should have this dinner at this fancy place when I can just fix you something fancy at home.”
“I thought you were the type who went out all the time. Some social butterfly type.”
“You thought wrong,” Jun replies, a bit too quick, and Nino hastily rejoices on finally hitting a sensitive nerve.
“But I’ll take that as compliment nonetheless,” Jun adds, settling his fork aside before meeting Nino’s eyes with determination. “I refuse to let your preposterous reluctance to accept this arrangement spoil my fate.”
“You’re damn serious about this, aren’t you?”
For the first time tonight, Jun smiles wide, all teeth and eerily beautiful. “I’m damn serious.”
Nino knows when he’s lost a battle; his breath comes short, taken away by either the power or the man in front of him. Either way they’re stuck together in this goddamn arrangement, and Nino can’t possibly resist. Jun, as he finds out, can and doesn’t hesitate to overpower him to make a point. Nino still believes he doesn’t have anything to lose yet it seems he won’t be getting what he wants; the impression only exasperates him more.
Still, that smile is a killer, Nino must admit.
“Now, when should we have our next date?” Jun casually takes out his planner from his jacket, as the waiter pours their coffee. He looks up to meet Nino’s confused expression. “We need to work to make fate work. I suggest, or rather insist, we have dates.”
“We don’t have to have dates. I’m busy, you’re busy. Let’s save ourselves from each other!”
“I can have Sho, my fairy, deal with my schedule for a while,” Jun says, pointedly ignoring Nino’s weak reasoning. “That’d allow me to take a few day offs. Then, for some additional notes…”
Jun continues to scribble more and more, and more while Nino is growing more and more curious across the table with every point Jun takes down, all serious and thoughtful.
Nino leans forward slightly. “What is it? Why are you taking so many additional notes?”
“It’s necessary to put all these new-found facts down now.”
“New-found facts? About what?”
“About you.”
“About me?”
“About you.” Jun stops writing and looks up to find Nino’s mouth slightly open in awe. He then reads his note: “Ninomiya doesn't like red meat, or perhaps meat in general-it’s worth noting, I’ll look into it later. Ninomiya also doesn’t eat his vegetables-the fact that I find amusing and sad at the same time.”
“You should add,” Nino retorts before he can stop himself, “that I don’t like your flashy wardrobe, that it hurts my eyes, and that I still want to cancel this arrangement.”
Jun’s eyes turn fiery in an instant and Nino honestly suspects he’s going to stir up the purple zephyr haze harsher. He waits for the lash to come for a few seconds, his palms wet as he instinctively leans back slowly into his chair.
“Fair enough,” Jun manages to let out. “I shall put those down then.”
Shifting uneasily, Nino meets Jun’s eyes. They are no longer fiery but suspiciously friendly, a bit too open for his comfort, and he lets out a relieved breath. He didn’t know he was holding it. All he knows is that he needs to keep on fighting this.
They stand on in front of the restaurant, cold winter breeze hitting their faces, waiting. Nino notices that once Jun is wrapped in his fluffy winter coat, he looks amazing. None of that flimsy shirt is in sight anymore and it’s so much better; he needs to stop being attracted to the guy.
“Do you need me to walk you home?” Jun casually asks. Nino’s surprised expression draws a warm chuckle from Jun. “Okay. I assume you don’t.”
“You assume correctly.”
“Just checking.”
“I- What are you trying to do now? Isn’t it enough that I agreed to comply after your threat?”
“It wasn’t a threat. I was only delivering a very persuasive demonstration, that’s all.” He turns to find Nino openly staring with a pout and a scolding look. “And I wasn’t trying to do anything just now. I was just asking to check whether you need me to walk you home. Or not.”
“Not!”
“Now, that’s rude,” Jun reminds him mildly. “Even if I’m beginning see how rudeness suits you. Somehow. I’m just going to see how it goes.”
Nino isn’t sure if the power is what gives Jun all his confidence, or if it’s in his nature to play with words like that. It still doesn’t settle nicely for him. Jun is awkward, in his opinion: one with such flashy fashion is definitely awkward and Nino isn’t going to give in easily.
“I’ll be taking my leave now, then.” Jun bows slightly.
“Fine.”
“It was nice to finally meet you, Ninomiya.”
The sound of his name rolling out from Jun's lips shouldn't thrill him. “Oh, fine, whatever.”
Jun smiles again, his best smile tonight. And damn, that power, Nino curses. Damn, damn, damn it.
“Good night. Get home safely, all right?” Jun leans forward, catches Nino’s small chin, tips it up, and drops a light kiss on his cheek before walking away.
Jun’s lips are warm and soft. He smells of wine, and a blush blooms on Nino’s cold cheek. Unwillingly, he might add as realization hits. He stands a little longer, hand going up to touch his burning cheek. “Damn it.”
Because Ohno will be home and he doesn’t want to talk about what happened, not tonight, not when Jun’s soft kiss is still lingering in his mind, Nino decides against going home. He enters the dim bar. It’s a another slow night, he can already tell. He notices few of the regulars are seated on their usual tables, and he goes straight to the bar.
“Oh, Nino.” From behind the counter, Aiba welcomes him. “I thought today was your day off.”
“It is.” Nino discards his suit jacket on the counter, climbing on the stool. Both hands on the counter, he meets Aiba’s curious eyes before sighing and laying his cheek on the cool surface.
Aiba raises his eyebrow at the sight but doesn't question further. “So, beer?”
“Or something stronger. A lot stronger.”
He already slides a tall glass in front of Nino’s face. “For starters, let’s have this to cool you off first.”
As he watches Nino finish his beer in big gulps, forcing the bitter cool liquid down, Aiba pours himself a small amount of sparkling water in a glass and waits.
“Who performed today?” Nino asks as he surveys the stage, empty at the moment except for the stand mic and idling karaoke machine; jazz music is playing in the background, almost muted, drawing nothing. Nothing much, but it’s a weekday anyway so you don’t really expect much from it.
Aiba sips slowly, gazing at the empty stage as well. “A new kid. He was nervous. Almost failed to pull off his own tricks.”
Nino snorts a small laugh, sliding his empty glass toward Aiba for a refill, eyes still on the stage. He can hear Aiba shift immediately behind the counter. “You’re too kind. Accepting a new kid is hard on the business, right, even for a slow weekday.”
“Are we talking about the new kid tonight or the new kid back in the day?” Aiba sets aside the beer bottle. He leans forward on the counter, watching the empty stage with Nino. “I’m still putting the beer on your tab though.”
Nino chokes on his beer and Aiba laughs.
“Are you having a fight with Satoshi?” Aiba finally asks.
A few hours later, they are outside, sitting on the steps of the bar, huddled close, waiting for the taxi Aiba had called 10 minutes before. The bar is already locked behind them and Nino’s clinging to him drunkenly, stealing warmth.
“I will be,” Nino mumbles comfortably into Aiba’s neck as a hand twists around his waist to pull him even closer.
“I see.”
The taxi takes forever; Aiba then hums a song Nino doesn’t recognize as they snuggle close on a cold night.
“Are you okay now?” Aiba asks him after a while.
Nino opens his eyes. Is he okay? That’s a good question. He is, but he’s not. And he doesn’t know which one he should say so he says:
“I will be.”
“Good enough.”
When the taxi finally comes into view, Aiba waves his hands to flag it down, and then nudges Nino to stand. Together, firm and solid Aiba and wobbly drunken Nino walk toward the waiting open taxi door.
“Aiba-chan.” Nino tugs Aiba’s sleeve after he slides over to his seat.
“Mhmm?” Aiba tucks back strays of falling fringe behind Nino’s ear, letting his fingers brush and linger a while before stepping back and giving the address.
“Thank you.” Nino’s voice is soft, barely audible.
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you Monday? You’re performing some hot new stuff, right?”
Nino nods weakly.
“I can’t wait.” He signals to the driver to close the door. “Good night.”
Nino slumps against the seat sleepily as the taxi smoothly drives away, lulling him more into slumber as the sensation of Ohno’s solid kiss, Jun’s soft peck, and Aiba’s warm fingers emerge, clouding his hazy mind. It’s the beers, he tries to convince himself, shaking away the wild images forming freely as he tries to breathe evenly, wishing he had insisted more on that whiskey.
He finds Ohno curled asleep on their bed when he gets home. The bastard, he curses silently, probably faking his sleep altogether. He forces his mind to focus on discarding his clothes before throwing them haphazardly around the darkness of the bedroom. He crawls into the covers, facing away from Ohno, tugging the blankets a little bit too hard over to his side.
Ohno stirs before turning over toward Nino, wrapping his arm loosely around his waist, shifting unceremoniously too close in the distance Nino had set earlier.
“I hate you,” Nino whispers in response, eyes closed already.
Ohno nuzzles closer against him, breathes his welcome onto Nino’s neck, settling comfortably.
In the late morning, Nino, waking up slowly and feeling quite well rested, still hasn’t worked up the mood for a fight. His head throbs with dull pain. Nothing too sharp, but it steadily keeps at the back of his head. He almost wishes for a stronger headache, anything to distract him from Ohno’s body heat wrapping him warm and the glowing memory of last night.
“Coffee,” Nino mumbles toward the pillow as he nudges Ohno’s foot with his cold toes, receiving a grunt. “Coffee!”
Ohno complies eventually, dragging himself out of bed, grumbling and floating heedlessly. Nino is about to scold him for his wings knocking into the dresser, but then he reminds himself that he’s not talking to Ohno, not today, and curls back to sleep under the blanket.
Ohno still hovers, though keeping his distance, around the house even if Nino’s still mad at him, still mad at everything; he’d spent the whole weekend camping out in their small living room, his papers, notes and decks of cards scattered on the carpet as he practiced his tricks, battling frustration and a lack of concentration. Ohno doesn’t press further; he lets Nino be as he tries to ignore him. He lets Nino snuggle on winter nights when the heat in the apartment doesn’t suffice. He nods when Nino offhandedly suggests they need to build a fort to help insulate the heat.
After that night Jun doesn’t call or check up on him; Nino doesn’t want him to in the first place. He knows he will be meeting the man in two weeks and he’ll have two weeks to plan.
“I’m still not talking to you,” Nino impatiently retorts when a pair of boots comes into sight and stops beside him. “Also, how many times have I told you not to wear your dirty boots in the apartment?”
He slowly sets his study notes aside to look up, finding Ohno not only employing fishnet stockings that encase those knobby knees, a short black skirt with a small frilly apron, firm long fingers holding a tray with a tea pot, low cut neckline and a slung white tie, but also lush red lips, pink cheeks, brown curls in pigtails, and a stark white maid hairpiece.
“I’m not touching the floor,” Ohno says, bobbing a subtle curtsy now that Nino has taken in her appearance entirely.
“And no floating!” Nino scolds her.
“It’s harder without wings but I manage.” Ohno descends before she kneels and sits on her feet, still holding the tray. “I take it you’re hungry. You’ve been at this the whole afternoon. I brought tea and snacks.”
“You think you can pull this maid stunt off with me? I’m not twenty anymore, old man.”
“I know,” Ohno says, grinning, slowly setting the tray down on the carpet, smoothing her skirt, “but I’m out of fresh clothes.”
“Yeah, right.”
At Nino’s weak protest, Ohno reaches for the teapot and pours a mug and hands it to Nino. “Here you go.”
Considering his options-the sooner he lets Ohno settle in her place the better-Nino doesn’t utter a single protest about the tea. He lets Ohno unhurriedly arrange a few crackers on a small plate for him, setting aside the tray before all the questions he’s been holding in all week come out of his mouth: “Are you really going to let this happen? Are you going to let Jun take me?”
“I’m really going to let it happen,” Ohno begins, after an unsettling silence that seems to be forever. “Just like I’m going to let Jun take you.”
Nino is fast. He slams his mug on the tray, already leaping up to stomp out of the living room, but Ohno is faster, tackling Nino and dropping both of them on the floor, cushioning Nino’s fall with her body, pinning him on the floor the next second.
“I’m not done.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Out of breath, Nino looks away as he weakly tries to push Ohno away, causing sparks of yellow stars to glow on his hands. “Get off me. You’re just going to do nothing as this arrangement ruins my life, ruins our lives.”
“Nino,” Ohno chides him gently. It is harder to settle her legs on either side of Nino’s legs with the skirt but Ohno manages just fine, now straddling Nino and pressing close. “Just because Jun is taking you it doesn’t mean he’ll be getting rid of me. You need to understand that.”
“I don’t need to understand anything!”
“Yes, you do.” Ohno leans even closer, sounding calm. “This attitude won’t work on me, you know that already. This attitude never works on me.”
Light blue wings now flaps heavily against the ceiling as Nino averts his eyes from Ohno’s persistent stare, betraying Ohno’s cool charade and giving out a hint of desperation; Nino has known that Ohno, for all his coolness, has full control of his wings, except for moments of distress and excitement.
“That’s why I hate you even more.” He keeps his face straight. “And your boobs are pressing against my chest, annoyingly.”
“Why yes, they are.” A frown disappears from Ohno’s face. She looks down, giggling softly, pressing down further, letting all her body weight fall upon Nino. She squirms as a pair of hands squeezes her ass. “They so are.”
“I still hate you,” Nino mumbles as he tugs her down, asking for an open mouth wet kiss.
Twelve summers ago, Nino answers the door of his new apartment and meets a somehow familiar face. He’s about to swing the door closed without warning but the man speaks: “I should’ve been delivered in a box but that’d freak you out. So here I am with one instead.” The small man digs into his jeans pocket and takes out a small box and hands it to Nino.
Reflex works before logic and Nino is already frowning over the box in his palm in confusion. “Huh? Is this a delivery?”
He brings his gaze up to carefully look at the man on his doorstep; he clearly isn’t wearing any courier uniform, and he doesn’t have a nametag he can check. Just a simple pair of jeans, a snug light sweater, harmless and, Nino decides, somehow warm albeit non-descript.
“Well, you can put it that way. I’ll see you soon and happy 18th birthday, Nino.” The man smiles easily, shifting lightly on his feet, his eyes already looking beyond Nino’s shoulder, showing his open interest in Nino’s flat.
Nino turns away quickly, making sure that he isn’t opening his door too wide. The man couldn’t really see his living room from this angle but just in case. When he turns back, he meets an empty space that used to be the man. No one is on his doorstep anymore. He looks down at his hand, at the small box, still bewildered. He surveys the hallway, making sure that the man isn’t hiding in the corner before closing his door still in confusion.
The head of the department looks up from Ohno’s report and nods at him. “Well done, Ohno.”
Ohno beams proudly. “Thank you, Sir. I believe that trick was necessary.”
“Do you have any other points to report regarding your care?”
Ohno bows. “None that demands your immediate attention, Sir.”
“Just be ready for final relocation in a few days, okay?”
“I’ve been more than ready, Sir. Any time."
“Very well. You’re dismissed."
Part 2