Work Text:
“Don’t move!” Ohno Satoshi admonished his reluctant model.
“Ohno-san…this is really uncomfortable.” Sakurai objected.
The artist shrugged. The program staff had asked Arashi’s Leader to depict each member of the group spelling out A.M.N.O.S in human letters as a special project. He had refused at first, and it had taken the persuasion of all the members and the promise to model personally to get the eldest man to forgo his planned fishing trip in favour of the task.
Now, alone in the makeshift art studio, Sho posed awkwardly in shape of an S. He began to regret talking their laid-back leader into this undertaking. Sakurai was learning, the hard way, that when it came to his art-work, Ohno could be relentless.
“Your foot…” The artist continued. “You need to raise it up more.”
“It’s impossible.” The caster reiterated. “Can’t you just use a photograph?”
“That’s no good.” Ohno replied without taking his eyes from the sketch in front of him. “You promised. Anyway…. I’m nearly done.” He finished in a more reasonable tone.
Sakurai suppressed a sigh and resolved to endure a little longer. The uncomfortable pose had been fun at first; fuelling laughter and nostalgia of the time he had first learnt it as part of a male cheerleading team. Now, struggling to balance on one foot and hold his arms aloft for an extended period of time, he questioned the wisdom of the Directors’ idea.
Yet, he held his tongue. He knew he had been irritable lately, getting annoyed by things that normally would only earn his laughter. Even the other members had noticed, to the point that Matsujun had told him to chill out. The irony of that statement had not been lost on the rapper, despite his current state of mind.
Gritting his teeth, Sho tried to take his mind off his own situation. Matsujun was next in line to model for their leader, and the thought of Captain Sadism attempting to look cool while modelling the ‘M’ pose went a long way to improving his mood.
“OK! It’s done.”
The unnaturally loud words from his leader startled the younger man out of his reprieve and he lost his balance. “Really?” He found himself hopping in place; unwilling to break his pose for fear of earning the artists’ ire.
“Really.” Satoshi reassured him. “You can go now. I’ll do the colour and shading from the photo.”
“You could have just used the photo from the start!” He exclaimed accusingly. Yet, a smile threatened to ruin his pretence of rightful indignation. Sometimes, Satoshi’s logic was impossible to follow.
“Don’t want to. This is better, isn’t it?” Ohno shrugged. “And you promised. Everyone did.” He added, as if that explained everything.
“I see…” Sakurai said, not really seeing at all. As he headed towards the exit to make his escape he sought to confirm Ohno’s modelling arrangements. “Shall I send Matsumoto here now or will you send for him later?”
Ohno ceased his examination of the sketch to meet the eye of the younger man. There was a long pause as he considered Sakurai’s question. “Ah… it’s fine.” He replied vaguely.
“Eh? What’s fine? Which is it?”
“Uhn… that is, I’ll call him later.” The older man clarified.
Sakurai nodded and left the room. With all of his work commitments finished for that day, the young man found himself at a loss for what to do next. He had just about decided to head home and catch up on his sleep when he literally bumped into Aiba in the hallway.
Exclaiming in surprise more than any physical pain, the taller man jumped back as if scolded. “Uwah! Sakurai-san, I didn’t see you there.” He laughed nervously. Sho could not blame the man for his trepidation, Sakurai had snapped needlessly at the young man a few times over the past week.
Heaving a sigh and careful to keep his tone light he addressed his friend. “It was my fault.” He smiled. “I was completely zoned out.” Aiba nodded a touch too empathically, betraying his discomposure. The young caster could not help but grin; Aiba’s action made him seem like a young puppy eager to please a temperamental master. Which, Sho realised, was probably not far from the truth.
“Oi,” he continued when Aiba had been nodding a few seconds too long. “You don’t have to agree to that extent….” But it was amusement, not irritation that coloured his tone.
Aiba Masaki finally seemed to understand his friends’ improved mood and visibly relaxed. “Sorry.” He laughed. “Hey, Sho-san, are you finished for today? Work, I mean.”
“Hm? Yeah, I am. Why?”
“Do you want to go for some drinks with me?” The would-be scientist did not pause long enough to allow the older man time to respond right away. He seemed afraid that the shorter male would suffer another swift turn of temper and reject his invitation. “I asked Nino but he bought a new game he wants to play. And Leader and Matsumoto-san are still working. So let’s go together!” Aiba’s excitement rose to new heights as he spoke. Taking Sakurai’s wrist in hand he drew his friend in the direction of the exit.
“Aiba-chan…”
“Together, right? You don’t have any plans do you?” He sounded slightly hurt at the possibility, but that did not alter his determined stride.
“Not really.” Sho replied. He offered no resistance to Aiba peremptory actions and allowed himself to be led by the cheerful man. “But I was going to sleep.” He added to Aiba’s back.
“You can sleep later.” He paused, turning to fix his long-time friend and colleague with a sly grin. “I’ll tuck you in.”
“Eh!?” Sakurai balked, pulling his wrist free in the process. “Aiba-chan-”
“Geez,” Aiba backed up enough to put a friendly arm around the sloping shoulders of the disconcerted boy. “I’m joking Sho-kun. Joking.” He repeated for empathises. “Let’s go!”
Sho rolled his eyes at his own reaction and nodded his consent to the taller man. “Alright. Let’s go.” Side by side the pair made their way outside to hail a taxi and make their way to one of their regular bars.
* * *
Aiba studied his friends’ expression discreetly over the top of his pint glass. He had hoped some time away from the demands of his work and a liberal does of alcohol would relieve Sakurai of whatever was bothering him. To that end, he had carefully nursed his own drinks all night while making sure to keep the older man suitably topped up.
Unfortunately, his plan did not seem to be having the desired effect. They had had a pleasant enough time. The pair had discussed various aspects of work and had laughed as they reminisced on times past, but they had gone no deeper. Sakurai had yet to unburden himself and Aiba felt the man was drawing further into himself.
Aiba told himself his motives were that of any good friend, and while that was true in itself, he knew there was more to it. He wanted to be the person Sakurai confided in. He wanted to be the one the older man came to with his problems. He could not explain why he felt this way; perhaps he wanted to feel needed by his fellow member. Maybe he wanted the chance to prove that he could be relied upon.
In truth, Aiba had never been the type of person to closely examine his reasoning. Just knowing that he wanted to help his friend was enough to galvanise him into action. And he would use any method to achieve that goal without worrying overmuch about the consequences.
As he gazed upon his overworked friend, however, he wondered if he was really any help at all. Sakurai had fallen silent some time before and seemed completely lost in his own thoughts. In an effort to break the tableau, Aiba tried to refill the older mans glass from the pitcher on the table.
Sakurai placed his hand over the top of his glass, gently cutting off his friend. “No more.” He sighed. “You’ve refilled my glass five times already Aiba-chan.” The words were softly spoken and held a trace of tolerant amusement. “And my glass hasn’t been more than half empty all night. There is no point in trying to get me drunk.”
“What? I’m not.” He lied with great aplomb. If there was one thing Aiba could affect easily, it was innocence.
Apparently, the rapper was not buying it. “Aiba-chan… just because my glass is never empty, it does not mean I’m drinking a lot. I’ve had the equivalent of maybe two pints.” He pointed out. “You’re on your fourth. You should stop trying to be sneaky; you suck at it.”
Aiba Masaki knew his second greatest skill was knowing when to admit defeat. “That’s so harsh!” He accused his friend, but the effect was somewhat marred by the guilty grin he wore. “You should drink more!” He filled up his own glass as if to punctuate his words. “You’ve been really, really weird lately.”
“I know.” Taking a pull of his beverage, he smiled reassuringly. “Sorry. I guess I have had a lot on my mind.”
“Like what?”
“I wasn’t really sure at first.” Sakurai confessed. “I think I’m just getting older, you know?”
Aiba objected strenuously to this statement. “You are not old Sho-kun!” He found the thought of someone born in the same year as him being old deeply distressing.
“Not old: Older. I don’t know…. Most people our age are married with families. I suppose I kind of wonder if we are missing out on something.”
Eyes wide, Aiba leaned in close to his friend. “Sakurai-san,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.” The older man answered shortly. “But isn’t that weird?”
“Huh? How?”
“Because…. I’m nearly thirty, Aiba-chan. I live at home and I’m single. If I wasn’t in Arashi, no, if I wasn’t in Jonny’s….” He left the sentence trail away, unfinished. Neither needed the words spoken to know the truth of them. Any other man in the same situation without the label of fame would be thought odd at best.
“You could always get your own place.” Aiba suggested helpfully.
“You are missing the point.”
The taller man sighed in sympathy. “It’s not forever.” He reasoned. “We have to follow the rules now, but we just have to be patient. Some of our seniors got married and have families now. We will too.”
Sakurai gave a short bark of bitter laughter. “And how much will we have missed by then? I don’t know; it just doesn’t feel like a fair trade anymore.”
For a long moment, silence greeted his statement, and Sho feared he had said too much. He saw the look of hurt cloud Aiba’s features and regretted burdening his cheerful friend with such heavy thoughts. He watched as Aiba drained his glass far too quickly and tried to think of a way to retract his assertion.
Before he could formulate a suitable plan, however, Aiba spoke. And the question surprised Sakurai almost as much as the tone of bewildered betrayal in which it was asked. “Sakurai-san, do you really not like being in Arashi?”
“What!? No, that’s not what I meant!” He insisted truthfully. “I like what I do. I’m happy with work.”
The relief of the taller man was almost palpable. “Me too.” He grinned, refilling his glass happily. “I’m glad to be in Arashi!”
Sho rolled his eyes. The alcohol was obviously starting to affect Aiba if past experiences were to be trusted. “Exactly.” He agreed. “Work is great; I was just thinking it would be nice to have a private life too.” He shrugged, a self deprecating smile fixed upon his face. “That’s probably pretty selfish of me though. Arashi has been doing really well right now; I guess I should be focusing on that.”
“Mm… it’s not selfish.” Aiba bolstered him. “But you don’t have to worry about any of that stuff yet.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
“I mean, you should worry about stuff like that when you actually find someone you like. Then you can worry about it together with that person, right?”
Sakurai gaped. Sometimes, Aiba Masaki displayed an amazing capacity for accidental wisdom. He truly was a Miracle Boy. “That was good.”
“Eh? What was?”
“What you said just now. It’s close to genius!”
“Really?” The younger man seemed just a startled as Sakurai himself, but quickly found himself agreeing. “Good? Yeah, it was good, wasn’t it? I guess I am a genius after all.”
The young caster could only laugh at the antics so typical of Aiba. He knew nothing had been truly resolved, yet he did feel the tension of the past week relieve slightly. After confiding in his fellow Idol, he understood he was not alone in his fears. Having someone to share his worries with had been his main concern after all. And he realised he had had that in Aiba all along.
Having cleared the air somewhat, the pair was able to settle into their usual pattern of nights out. Aiba seemed determined to make up for nursing his earlier drinks by finishing the pitcher of beer more quickly than was strictly wise. Sho could not fault the lithe man, he himself set about actually finishing a pint for the first time of the night too.
* * *
Spilling out of the bar in the small hours of the morning, Sakurai supported his inebriated friend and hailed a taxi. He was a little worse for wear himself, but Aiba was only capable of standing by leaning heavily upon his shoulders. Even keeping the younger man on his feet became difficult when Aiba suffered fits of giggles periodically for no apparent reason.
A taxi pulled up and Sakurai patiently manhandled the lanky form of his drinking partner into the backseat. He manoeuvred himself beside his drunken colleague and gave the driver Aiba’s address. He would see the man safely home and then get himself home and to bed. After the events of the night, Sakurai was both physically and mentally exhausted.
Beside him, Aiba fell sideways, his head falling into Sho’s lap. The rapper carefully arranged his friend into a more comfortable position and relaxed into his seat. Unconsciously he stroked the silky hair atop the younger mans head and he felt Aiba shift slightly.
His eyes barely half open; Aiba turned a little to look up at him, his expression serene. Sakurai moved to stroke the hair of Aiba’s brow and his own furrowed slightly in concern. “You don’t have work in the morning do you?” He asked gently. If Aiba was unable to perform his work properly tomorrow, Sakurai would only have himself to blame. He suspected Aiba had only decided to go out drinking on the spur of the moment for his sake.
“Mmm… Location shoot.” The man replied sleepily. “For Shimura.”
“Are you going to be alright?”
He felt, rather than saw, Aiba’s slight nod. “In the afternoon.” He continued placating Sho’s concerns. “At three.”
Sakurai inclined his head in acknowledgement and relief. Aiba had never really seemed to suffer from bad hangovers, but he doubted the man would be able to function much before noon.
The remainder of the journey passed in companionable silence. As the taxi pulled up outside of Aiba’s home, Sakurai had to shift the man from his lap in order to reach over and pay the driver. The long limbed man had recovered somewhat on the drive and only needed a little assistance to climb out of the vehicle and stumble to his door.
Sakurai helped Aiba get the door unlocked and saw him safely inside. He would have left then if he had not seen Aiba struggling quite so much to remove his shoes. The older man laughed as he knelt to aid his hapless comrade. “Aiba-chan,” Sakurai said kindly as he pulled off one shoe and then the other. “You’re so hopeless. You really have to learn some restraint….”
“What are you saying Sho-kun?” He replied, careful not to slur his words and getting unsteadily to his feet. “I held back for most of the night.”
“And then more than made up for it later.” He toed off his own shoes and placed a steadying arm around Aiba’s waist.
“Yeah…well…whatever….”
Sakurai shook his head and suppressed a chuckle. Reasoning with Aiba when the man was sober was difficult; trying it when he was up to his ears in alcohol was just useless. Rather than argue his point, he guided the other man to his bedroom and pulled back the covers before letting Aiba fall into bed.
This was not the first time he had helped another member of the group to bed after a night out. In fact, he had been on the receiving end of such solicitous actions himself several times. Therefore, he found nothing unusual about stripping the lithe man down to his boxers and draping the quilt over his long frame.
Aiba mumbled his thanks in a barely audible whisper before adding “G’night, Sho-chan.” And succumbing to the deep sleep of the dead drunk.
Although tired, Sakurai found himself more worried about his friend than usual. Aiba had not really drunk more than he normally did, but he had drunk faster than he was used to. The caster decided to stay a while and keep a watchful eye on the younger man. If Aiba was still asleep in an hour and had not spilled his guts in his sleep, Sakurai figured he would be fine and he could leave. Until that time, he would settle in and watch over his friend.
* * *
It was still dark when Aiba opened his eyes. Sleepily, he squinted at the digital clock; the illuminated digits told him it was only a little after four. It was not unusual for him to wake up in the small hours after a night of drinking. He often got up briefly to relieve himself and hydrate his parched throat.
It was unusual, however, to find another person in his bed.
Behind him, Sakurai lay asleep atop the covers. His solid form pressed against Aiba’s back, his arm draped casually over the tall mans waist. Masaki could feel the warmth of the other man even through the quilt that divided them.
Sakurai had obviously not intended to fall asleep. He was fully clothed on top of the covers and his right arm was pinned under his own head as if he drifted off while bracing it upon his elbow. His chest rose and fell in the regular rhythm of deep slumber. And each exhalation of that hot breath on the exposed skin of Aiba’s neck sent shivers down the mans spine.
Aiba found himself holding his own breath, unwilling to move lest he disturb the man who held him. Instinctively he pressed himself further into the cradle of Sakurai’s body. The arm about him waist tightened briefly, drawing him even closer and Aiba placed his own hand atop Sakurai’s as if to keep it there.
He was barely aware of his fingers gently stoking the hand they held, but a slight change in the quality of the breath against his skin got his immediate attention.
“…Masaki…”
His name, a breathy moan against his back, caused a shudder to ripple through his body. Suddenly, Aiba hated the quilt that separated them. An inadvertent moan escaped his throat as he tilted his head, exposing his neck as if hoping to allow more hot breaths to brush his skin.
Sakurai responded to the blatant invitation. Before he knew quite what was happening, Aiba felt Sakurai pressing his soft full lips to the curve of skin where his shoulder met his neck. Soft but insistent kisses trailed along the tendons of his throat coming to the sensitive skin at his jaw line just below his ear.
“Aiba-chan…” His voice was thick and low as he murmured directly in his ear. Aiba groaned, screwing his eyes tight against the sensations that coursed through his body. “Aiba-chan, look at me.” The gentle command could not be denied.
Opening his eyes, he turned to meet Sakurai’s gaze. He saw his own feelings reflected in the dark pools of his friends’ eyes. They were a mixture of fear, wonder, pleading and something deeper. But above all else, they shone with the light of gentle kindness, and Aiba knew he could not fight against this feeling. He did not want to.
The two men held each others gaze for long moments before Aiba gave an almost imperceptible nod and his mouth curled into a shy smile. Sakurai needed no further encouragement to lean over the younger man and press a kiss to his lips.
He tasted of sleep and stale beer, but neither man seemed to care. Slanting his mouth over the tall man and pressing firmly against him, Sakurai deepened the kiss. Breaths rasped and mingled as Sho probed gently with his tongue, tracing the contours of the familiar but forbidden mouth.
Aiba responded by moaning against his tongue, sending vibrations snaking to the very core of the rappers being. The younger man shifted to lay flat on his back and kicked at the quilt until it piled in a heap at the end of the bed. Sho took his cue and brought his leg over to straddle the man without breaking their kiss.
He felt Aiba buck beneath him as the young man reached up and used the collar of Sakurai’s rumpled shirt to pull him closer. Sho’s own hands were busy exploring every inch of exposed skin on the lithe man. He traced the sharp curve of Aiba’s collarbone and the smooth plains of his chest. He paused briefly when he came to the faint scar on his chest and stroked the fading blemish tenderly.
Masaki broke the desperate kiss and let his hands fall to rest on Sakurai’s hips. “Sho-chan…” His lips were pink and swollen, his cheeks flushed with heat and his eyes darkened with desire. “Enough. I can’t take it.”
Swallowing against his own lust, Sakurai nodded understanding. He had needed the closeness tonight, the intimate touch of someone who knew him well, but neither man was ready to take it any further.
Carefully, he climbed away from his recumbent friend and out of the bed. “I should head home.”
Braced on his elbows, Aiba sat up, a look of alarm crossing his face. “You can stay.” He said with a note of pleading in his voice. “I didn’t mean…”
“I know.” Sakurai reassured him. “But….Not tonight.” He was not sure if he meant to imply there would be other nights, yet he hoped that it would prove true. “I’ll call you later,” he added in more normal tones. “And make sure you are up in time for your shoot.”
Aiba visibly relaxed. “Alright.” He sat up fully before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing with his comrade. He put his arms around Sakurai’s shoulders and offered a hug that spoke more of their continued friendship than their intimate encounter.
The older male retuned the embrace and gave his friend a few pats on the back. “I’ll see myself out.” He said as he released the man. “You should get back to sleep.”
Masaki agreed. Before Sakurai had taken more than a single step away, however, he reached out to plant one final, chaste kiss upon the older male. “Sho-kun, thanks.” He added with a smile then climbed back into bed. He was focused on straightening the quilt as Sakurai left the room.
Sakurai Sho left the house dark and quiet, in stark contrast to his own mood. He felt lighter and freer than he would have thought possible. Somehow he knew that tonight would not change his friendship with his bubbly colleague except to strengthen it. Neither would speak openly of what had transpired, of course, but it would not become an obstacle to them either.
And he knew that he would never be so consumed by his own worries again. Rather, he thought, because he had found a person with whom he could share them. He had found someone who knew him better than anyone. Someone he would be close to for a long time to come.
End.