Work Text:
They are sitting quietly in the back of the van, knees knocking when they turn a corner. Aiba is pointing something in his manga out excitedly to Sho. Jun has his earbuds in and his sunglasses mask any form of emotion or consciousness.
Nino gives Ohno a poke in the ribs.
Ohno snorts in surprise.
“Don’t you think...” Nino trails off dramatically.
“Yes, I do,” Ohno smiles proudly at his own wittiness and Nino gazes upon him with the fondness of a young man watching his grandmother discover how to surf the interwebs.
“We could be a novel,” Nino muses, setting his 3DS on his lap. “We could have cliffhangers, plot twists, love triangles, suspenseful situations! We could have a fateful meeting in Uzbekistan but be shunned by the people around us. We could wear sunglasses that don't hide our identity. We could-”
“Except, we're not a novel,” interrupts Ohno. “We're a bunch of old men that sing okay and dance sort of alright.”
“Well, if you put it that way,” Nino frowns.
They are quiet again, for a moment.
Ohno furrows his brows. “What level are you stuck on?”
“Ugh,” groans Nino, “63.”