Prompt 27

[aibamods]

 

Title: where the heart is

Rating: Teen? Whatever rating covers potty-mouths and morning wood

Word Count: ~8k

Pairing: Aiba/Jun, side Ohmiya, past Sakumoto, past friends-with-benefits!Aimiya

Summary: Perfect location, perfect price, perfect...con? Jun really should’ve known better than to listen to Aiba’s plans. Really, this is his own fault.

Notes: Fingers crossed that this remotely lives up to your amazing prompt, dear recipient! Hope you don’t mind Junba, and the fact that my fingers slipped and Ohmiya-ed (oops?). Also, thanks to my dear soul twin anupapaya for beta-ing and convincing me to do my very first (!) exchange, we die together babe.

 

“Matsujun! Jun-kun! Jun-sama! Jun-”

Jun flings the door open with a snarl, glaring at the occupant at the other side of the door. Aiba, hand still poised to pound against it, almost trips over himself with the force of his forward movement meeting air instead of wood. He catches himself clumsily, Jun too irritated to even try to lend a hand, and peers at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Jun doesn’t buy it for a second.

“What,” he snaps. Aiba’s grin grows wider.

“Move in with me!” The thing is, this isn't the first time that Aiba has pulled something like this. Jun has known Aiba since his teens, all long-limbed and awkward, his violent enthusiasm still hidden under a layer of general social anxiety. In the over-a-decade span of their friendship, Jun has been dragged into no less than two dozen schemes, including That Time With the Balloons, The Zoo Incident, The Mirrorman Debacle (also known as the day when Jun learned that Aiba’s veterinarian training extended to people-first-aid), The Zoo Incident Take Two (Now With Bonus Pythons!), and The Boat Thing, which still makes Sho twitch whenever he sees origami. Or lakes. Suffice it to say, Jun has a deep and unfortunate understanding of what it means when Aiba has that grin on his face.

“No,” he says, and closes the door. Or tries to, anyways, frowning as a thick brown boot jams its way into the frame, Aiba wincing a little at the contact but plowing on without comment. Damn his habit of wearing sturdy yet comfortable footwear, foiling Jun at every turn.

“But it’s important!” Aiba insists, digging himself a little closer to the door. Jun pushes at the door with more strength, taking vicious satisfaction at the way that Aiba starts to tear up. He’d never actually break his toes, or anything, but he wasn’t above a few bruises in the name of sanity. “I was looking for an place, y’know, after the mold thing at my apartment-”

Jun cringes at the memory of Aiba’s mold thing, which had eventually led to him camping out at Nino and Ohno’s apartment while poison control checked the building and informed him that the entire complex was ‘unfit for continued human survival’.

“- and I didn’t want to sleep on Nino’s couch anymore, so I was looking online, and I found this great deal, on a house, even-”

Jun closes the door further. Aiba yelps.

“It has a rooftop garden-!”

Jun pauses in his efforts to crush Aiba’s foot into viscera, intrigued despite himself. Aiba grabs at the chance to continue. “And two bathrooms! It has a walk-in closet bigger than my old apartment, Matsujun. And it’s affordable.”

“So why do you need me?” Jun asks, relenting as he opens the door wider. He knows he’s going to regret this. “If it’s so affordable.”

“Well,” Aiba’s voice pitches slightly higher, the corner of his grin going crooked with mild guilt. “The place...kind of comes with a condition...?”

Jun waits patiently as he trails off, suspicions mounting as Aiba clearly searches for the best way to put the condition. He takes a deep breath.

“It’s kind of...a deal for couples only.”

A beat.

“What.”

Aiba’s eyes grow impossibly huge and innocent. Jun remains unmoved, raising an expectant eyebrow. Aiba eventually relents, sighing. “So it’s this house being rented out by this really rich couple, and they want the tenants to be ‘just as blessed in love as they are’, so they’ll only sell it to couples...or something...”

“Aiba-chan,” Jun says slowly. “You are aware that we aren't dating, right?”

Aiba flutters his eyelashes at him. “Jun-kun, don't you want me?”

Jun scowls at him, and Aiba deflates. “Come on,” he wheedles. “I need this place, Matsujun, if I have to sleep on that couch for another week I’m going to die, the walls aren’t soundproof and neither of them care about keeping it PG-13, and there isn't anything else in my budget in Tokyo, and the only people looking for roommates at this time of year are creepers. Do you want a jogger to find my body at five in the morning?”

“I just wanted a few more hours of sleep,” Jun mutters. Then, louder: “And why me?”

Even without asking, he can guess, and Aiba gives him an incredulous look. “Who else?” he points out. “Nino and Ohno are already living together- if I asked Nino to move in with me instead he’ll laugh in my face, and Oh-chan would be nicer about it but he’d never do it, either. Sho-chan is in Cambridge right now, and even if he weren’t he’s kind of...messy.” It’s a nicer way of saying that Sho is an utter slob, while Aiba, despite appearances, is actually somewhat of a neat-freak. “So you’re my only hope, Matsujun!”

It’s a terrible idea. Jun knows it’s a terrible idea. He has an apartment that he’s very comfortable in, though the commute leans on the long side, and it’s absurd of Aiba to expect him to give it up for a ridiculous ploy that is unlikely to work. It’s ridiculous to assume that the two of them will be able to cohabitate for a week, let alone for months on end- there’s a reason why he stayed with the Ohmiya duo and not Jun when he had to leave his apartment, after all. It’ll never work, because Aiba is too loud and too enthusiastic and takes up too much space with the force of his personality. Because Jun’s personality is the exact same way, too huge to live with, sharp-edged and meticulous to a degree that will irritate even Aiba’s seemingly-infinite joy. They’ll end up hating each other by the first fortnight, and Jun kind of likes having Aiba as a friend, despite his general...everything.

But Aiba’s eyes are huge and bright, not the mock-puppy-dog eyes of before, instead something genuinely hopeful. Jun opens his mouth to refuse him, but Aiba says “please, Matsujun?”, voice soft and terribly fragile, and Jun finds himself sighing the way he did when he was fifteen and Aiba asked him if he could help him sneak into the zoo, when he was nineteen and Aiba had showed up at his dorm with a small, sodden puppy, when he was twenty-three and asking Jun with tears in his voice if he maybe had time to come over, because Becky just packed her bags and the apartment was too big for one. Jun sighs, because of all the reasons not to move in with Aiba, this is the biggest reason why it’d be a terrible idea.

“Where is this place, exactly?” he finds himself asking instead, and resolutely pretends that he wasn’t doing it for the brilliant smile that lights up Aiba’s face.

 Aiba doesn’t let Matsujun change his mind before dragging him to the house, feeling hope bubbling under his skin like soda foam, light and effervescent. They take the train to the neighbourhood, Aiba watching the morning skyline as Jun naps in his seat, unaware of the glances that his striking features attract. Aiba catches a teenage girl discreetly taking a photo and hides a grin, making a note to tease Jun about it later. He doesn't bother stopping her, because it’ll be good business for Jun’s interior design company- Nino had always claimed that it was his pretty face that brought clients in, and while Aiba believes in Jun’s design capabilities, he also thinks that the other man’s looks doesn’t exactly hurt his business, either.

He shakes Jun awake as they reach their station, his companion blinking sleepily at him before getting out of his seat with a groan, grumbling a little as he follows Aiba out the train. As they walk to the house, he becomes slightly more aware, and his voice breaks the quiet of the mostly-empty pavement. “So, how are we doing this?”

Aiba shrugs, a little sheepish. “I hadn't really planned anything after getting you to come,” he admits, and Jun snorts.

“Of course not. Do we need a backstory, or something?” he pauses. “I guess we can just tell them a version of the truth: that we met during high school, and have known each other for ten years. Maybe we got together at graduation, or something.”

Aiba beams, mind going into romantic overdrive as he considers all the possibilities. “Oh, you could’ve confessed to me when we graduated, because you didn't want us to separate without telling me how you felt!” he hooks an arm around Jun’s shoulders, basking a little in the way that the younger man doesn't move away. “And then you came to the a university near me, so that we wouldn’t be separated!”

“Why am I the needy one in this relationship?” Jun asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who started sobbing at Ohno and Sho’s graduation. And at our graduation. If anything, it should be you confessing your undying love for me.”

“Okay,” Aiba agrees cheerfully, just to see Jun’s moment of off-kilter surprise. “I’ll confess to you, and that means we’ve been dating for- what, almost a decade?”

“Just about,” Jun agrees, a strange, strangled note in his voice, but Aiba doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it before they reach their destination.

“Well, here it is,” Aiba fidgets, taking his arm back from Jun’s shoulders and rocking back on his heels as Jun considers the small house with assessing eyes. Aiba suddenly feels an urgent need to be able to look into Jun’s mind, see all the calculations he’s making as he looks at the house. He’d known, on some level, that Jun may not fall in love with the place with the same speed that Aiba had, that he may not see the small structure, walled with warm brown wood offset by cream-white edges, interestingly geometrical with peeks of green barely visible through the glass fence on the roof, and be filled with the same instant sense of home.

He had hoped, bone-deep, that Jun would like it, believing in the wish so deeply that it almost felt inevitable that he would, but he knew that these emotions don't necessarily translate into reality, and he’d made no plans for if Jun decided not to help him. “Well...?” he asks, hesitant.

Jun frowns a little. “It’s... unique,” he replies, thoughtful. Aiba feels a fission of nervousness shoot up his spine, and his mouth opens involuntarily.

“Isn’t it cool, though?” he starts, his voice a beat faster than his mind. “Like something Captain would’ve made!” When Jun still doesn’t reply, he falters. “Do you- hate it?”

Jun blinks at him, eyes surprised, before softening slightly. “Actually, it’s pretty nice,” he admits, and Aiba feels a gust of relief sweep through him. “I was surprised. I didn't think you could find anything like this in Tokyo.”

“Thank you!” a high, feminine voice comes from the direction of the door, and the two of them turn to see a tall, tan woman walking out, looking at them with a grin. “We designed the place ourselves, you know.”

“Oh! Owner-san!” Aiba waves a hand at her. “Um, I was just showing my boyfriend-” he’s quite proud of himself for not stumbling over the word, and resolutely does not look over at Jun to make sure he hasn't given the game away. “- this place. Is that okay? It said to come over anytime on the listing-”

The woman waves his words away. “Nah, it’s fine, we’re early risers,” she holds out a hand, her grip firm in Aiba’s as she shakes it. “I’m Ami.”

“Aiba Masaki,” Aiba replies, “and my boyfriend’s Matsumoto Jun.” Is he using the word boyfriend too many times? He snaps his mouth shut.

Jun steps forward to greet her, polite as always, and says: “I like the minimalist modernist sensitivity of this place, it really lends to the warmly humanistic theme you’ve got going on.”

Aiba looks at him incomprehensibly, while Ami’s smile grows wider. “Thank you! I didn’t understand any of that, though. This was all Manami’s idea, but I’ll gladly take the credit if you’re that impressed,” she winks, dimpling sweetly. Another voice calls from just inside the doors.

“I’d usually say what’s mine is yours, Nori-chan, but in this case I think I’m going to take umbrage with you using me for my architecture degree.” another woman steps out of the house, running a hand through her messy brunette hair as she steps beside her partner, leaning against her shoulder sleepily. She looks at Jun consideringly. “You a design student?”

“Nihon Kogakuin,” Jun confirms. Manami’s eyes light up with recognition.

“Kyoto Seika,” she replies, and they nod at each other like they’ve just done a secret handshake or something. Aiba finds himself meeting Ami’s eyes from beside their partners, the same amusement passing between the two of them. He’s startled at how natural it feels, to be considered as part of a pair with Jun, though he probably should’ve expected it- they have known each other forever, after all, and Jun has always been good at throwing himself into a job once he accepts it.

Ami tilts her head at them. “So...are you open to signing the rental agreement for the house, say, now?”

Aiba blinks. “Uh, don’t you have other applicants?”

“I mean, yeah, but I like you guys, and Jun-kun over there seems like he’s able to properly appreciate how awesome Manami’s work is. How long have you two been together?”

“Uh,” for a second, Aiba blanks and panics. Then Jun’s hand brushes against his, and he regains his bearings. “We got together when I was seventeen, so- about ten years, now?”

She nods decisively. “I guessed as much. ” Aiba blinks- what? “So you two won’t be leaving any time soon, which is what we wanted when we said we were looking for another couple. We wanted people who would be able to appreciate this place for what it is, and who would take care of it for a long time.”

Manami joins in: “It was my idea- it’s dumb, I know, but I designed this place for Ami, and it kind of...didn't feel right, to just give it away to anybody. We wanted this place to be a place where relationships can grow,” she flushes a little. “Sorry, I got a bit too idealistic there, didn't I. What I mean is that you two seem good together, so I don't mind passing the house over to you. We’re leaving in a few days, anyways, so we were kind of working on a time crunch.”

Aiba feels a pang of guilt in his stomach at how thoroughly he deceived them, looking at how earnestly they’d offered their home as a love-nest for him and Jun. It wasn’t enough to make him give up on the place, but he wished that they weren’t such good actors.

Nevermind that it didn't feel at all like acting.

Jun nods beside him, curling an arm around his waist in a casually proprietary touch. “We’ll take it,” he says, like he hadn’t been hesitant about the place this very morning. Aiba tries not to let the shock show on his face, choosing to kiss Jun on the cheek instead, hoping that the gesture conveys his gratitude instead of ringing false.

They hold hands as they sign the papers, the whole process seeming bizarrely quick, like a montage playing in his mind. “There’ll be a cleaner coming over every week for the first two months- he’s included in the price, so don't mind him,” Manami informs them as they talk over the deal. “But after that it’s all yours!”

They walk away with a pair of glittering golden keys and the promise of moving in by the end of the week. Aiba holds his key so tightly in his hand that it almost hurts, overflowing with joy and not-quite-nervousness.

“That was okay,” he comments, grinning as he lets go of Jun’s hand, far enough that the girls wouldn't be able to see. His palm feels cold for a second, and he grips the key in his other hand even harder. “I mean, we’ll have to pretend until the housekeeper finishes coming, but it’s only a few times a month, for about two months, right?”

“Right,” Jun says, something in his voice sounding not quite convinced. Aiba opens his mouth to reassure him further, then catches the look on his faces and closes it again.

It’s okay, he tells himself, looking at the sunlight reflecting off of Jun’s hair. Jun’s doing this. That’s what’s important.

He pushes away the corner of his mind that sounds like Nino, telling him that he’s being hopelessly naive, and bumps their shoulders together, smiling at Jun until the other boy quirks his lips back.

Yeah, this is going to work. He can feel it.

 “I’m taking the bed,” Jun announces, the first time they get a good look at the bed in the center of the room, a week later. Manami and Ami had been kind enough to leave behind their queen-sized bed and mattress, leaving them to only need to buy the sheets and pillows. It would’ve been inviting even without the rose-colored lenses of exhaustion after hours of moving in, and Jun was prepared to fight dirty in order to claim his rightful place.

Aiba blinks. Laughs. “Don’t be silly, Matsujun, of course you are!” Jun relaxes for a second, before: “And so am I!”

“What.”

“I mean, we have to maintain appearances until after the housekeeper stops coming, which means that we can only use one bedroom for at least two months, and the bed’s big enough to share,” Aiba grins at him, completely at ease, because he’s a fucking moron. “The whole point of this was so that I didn't have to sleep on the sofa again, remember?”

“No.” Jun informs him. “We can switch off, you take the sofa one day and I’ll do it the next day. There’s no reason for us to share unless someone’s literally in the house with us, making sure we’re dating.”

“But we need to keep up appearances!” Aiba retorts. “The housekeeper will be able to tell that only one person’s been using the bed, and he’ll tell them, and then they’ll think we’ve been fighting or something!”

“The housekeeper’s not a spy, Masaki.”

“He could be!”

Jun opens his mouth to argue further, but finds his mind too heavy with exhaustion to deal with Aiba’s apparent infinite well of paranoia. “Look. We’ll talk about this in the morning. For now, just-” he waves a hand towards the sofa, stumbling towards the bed without looking at Aiba’s response. He tucks himself under the newly-bought covers, cool against his skin, and falls asleep instantly.

The next morning, he stirs at a weight across his stomach, a long line of warmth curved over his front. He blinks, registers the curve of Aiba’s lips at the dip of his chin, his slightly cool nose poking into his jaw, his breath brushing the jut of his collarbones, and barely manages to stifle a scream. He tries to turn around and shuffle away, only for a strong arm to pull him back, firm and insistent as Aiba presses himself into a long, warm line along Jun’s back. He closes his eyes, willing himself not to flush. It’s hard, though, when he can feel Aiba’s - business - pressed at the divet of his back, followed by a strong thigh between his. A thigh that alerts him to the ache in his own boxers.

Right, he thinks, as he gingerly begins the work of peeling a six-foot tall man off of his body. This is going to be awful.

”This is awful!” Aiba wails, face-down on Nino’s - or Nino-and-Ohno’s - sofa. “Jun was right, I never should’ve done this.”

Nino’s TV emits the sound of an explosion, emphasising his despair. Nino himself clicks a few buttons, directing his character, before answering. “I mean, yeah.”

“Eloquent, Mr. Academy-Award-Winning-Screenwriter,” Aiba mutters at him. “Aren't you supposed to comfort me?” he lifts his head from attempting to suffocate himself on the paint-stained cushions, peering balefully at Nino’s distracted back. “You’re supposed to be a good friend here, Nino!”

“If you wanted someone to pretend that your life choices don't suck, you should’ve gone to Sho,” Nino informs him, still only half-paying attention. “Besides, it’s only been what, two weeks since you moved in?” And hadn't that been a fun conversation, him and Jun telling Ohno, Sho and Nino about their new living situation over the phone. Sho had been equal parts scandalized and wary about the legal implications, Ohno had been supportive and mildly impressed at their antics, and Nino had laughed at them for ages, asking if he can get a recording of the two of them for his next screenplay, a work that he claimed would be “the best comedy of the decade”. It had taken the combined forces of Ohno commandeering the phone and Sho taking over the conversation to prevent Jun from committing homicide.

Nino continues: “It’s just a bit of friendly boners between childhood friends, what the fuck are you stressing about? We’ve literally showered together hung-over before, multiple times, and you never had a crisis of sexuality then. I’m almost insulted.”

“Please, like anyone but Ohno’s going to go for your jailbait ass.”

“Ah, but it’s such a nice ass.”

“Nice like an emaciated scarecrow.” Aiba pouts. “Jun has a bony ass, too, but he’s so hot.”

Nino snorts. “You’ve known this ever since he hit that growth spurt when we were eighteen and became Mister Hottest Bachelor of the Year, why is this news?”

“He’s so hot,” Aiba repeats, emphasising the words more fully. “Unreasonably hot. Nobody should be that hot vacuuming! It’s distracting.”

Nino actually pauses the game then, looking at him strangely. “Wait,” his eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

Aiba blinks. “What?”

“You-” Nino cuts himself off. “Holy shit.”

“Nino,” Aiba says, mildly irritated the way that only Nino seems to bring out in him. “What are you talking about?”

“I take it all back, this is a great idea,” Nino grins, the way he does whenever he knows something you don’t. It’s a common expression on his face. “Aiba-chan, let me ask you a question: if you want to fuck Jun, why don’t you just do it? Ask? I mean, that’s what you did with me.”

Aiba splutters a little. “That was just- we were fourteen! And making out! It wasn’t sex.”

“I mean, for fourteen it might as well have been,” Nino replies placidly. Aiba gropes around the couch, finds one of Nino’s notebooks, and throws it at his head. Nino dodges nimbly, and continues without a pause. “And besides, that doesn't answer the question. I know you aren't some puritan who’s too delicate to ask, so why not? Worst that can happen is he says no, and then you’ll know for sure that he doesn’t want it and you can move on.”

“We’re living together, Nino,” Aiba points out. “We’re sleeping in the same bed. Don't you think it’d be a little weird if I propositioned him?”

“I think it’s weird that you haven’t tried,” Nino says. “No offense, but you’re not known for your incredible subtlety or self-restraint. You would’ve done it by now if it was any of us.”

Aiba opens his mouth to deny Nino’s words, then closes it. There were a dozen responses that he could give, but he knows that Nino’s telling the truth: Aiba throws himself into things, full-throttle and without regard to the possibility of failure. It’s been like that ever since he was a kid, the trait compounded after his hospitalization in his first year of college. When he had been gasping for breath in his college dorm, His RA’s voice loud and indistinguishable in his ear, he couldn’t help but think about how he hadn't told Ohno that his paintings never failed to make Aiba’s breath stop with pride because he thought it would be too sentimental, how he hadn't invited Sho to that oyster place by the beach because he thought that Sho wouldn't have time for him, how he’d never told Nino that he was his best friend because he thought Nino would mock him for being sentimental, how he’d never let Jun take him shopping at the places that Aiba had been secretly interested in because he was afraid he’d look silly. When he woke up to find Jun sleeping over his hospital bed, usually-neat hair pressing patterns against his cheek, the first thing he blurted out was to ask when he’d have time to take Aiba to that new boutique he’d been talking about.

And it’s true that Aiba loves this house enough not to jeopardize it, but that doesn't mean that he couldn’t have asked. If Jun had disagreed and felt uncomfortable, they could've switched sleeping places like he’d suggested in the first place, and only slept together for the nights before the housekeeper came. It wouldn’t have been too hard to pull off, and with anyone else, Aiba would’ve taken the risk.

But- “It’s Jun,” Aiba protests, feeling like that’s the only reason he needs without quite knowing why. Nino stares at him, eyes narrowed.

“You,” he says slowly. “Are a moron.”

“That’s not helping.”

Nino shakes his head. “Nope, I’m not getting involved in this particular trainwreck. Not without a camera, a recording device, and preferably at least a mile away from the disaster area. Especially not if you’re still at this stage.”

“Huh?” Aiba frowns at him, willing him to make sense. Nino smirks.

“Just-” he sighs. “Call when you get it. I’ll try to dig your dumb ass out then. But before that, there’s no point in giving you any advice.”

Before Aiba can protest, he’s hit in the head with a controller. “Now, c’mon,” Nino demands. “I’ve listened to my obligatory share of bitching, let me beat you up before Oh-chan comes home from fishing. If you’re good, I might even let you take home a few worms.”

Aiba narrows his eyes at him. “If I win, you’ll let me take home a tuna.”

“It’s not even tuna season, moron. If you win, I’ll let you take home a yellowtail or something. God knows you need the brainpower.”

Aiba shoves Nino playfully as the music from the television screen begins to play, letting their conversation fade into the back of his mind, buried but not forgotten.

 It’s that conversation that bubbles up in Aiba’s mind again, sudden and unwarranted, when he comes home from work to find Jun tending to the rooftop garden a few days later. Jun has almost completely taken over Ami’s garden, her crawling vines and bright buttercups replaced with bushes of fragrant thyme and sprouting lemon trees. The smell of the garden, wet earth and crisp vegetation cut through with bright citrusy, herb-y notes, is so Jun that it makes something in Aiba`s throat clench. He looks at Jun, crouched over the neatly-packed earth with stained gloves and old jeans, hair pinned back with a polka-dotted headband that looks like it`d been stolen from his sister, and draws nearer, unable to help himself.

“Are you planting something new?” he asks, leaning down behind Jun and catching a whiff of something strangely familiar, herbal and comforting. Jun doesn't look up at him, and Aiba watches the way the setting sun plays over the sweat beading at his neck. Jun hesitates. “Shiso,” he mutters, quiet, and Aiba places the familiar smell into its rightful place in his mind.

“I love shiso!” he says, delighted, remembering how he overcame his initial aversion to the pungent herb to grow to love it. His mind pops with possibilities. “When will it be ready? Can I use it now? Oh- can I make umeboshi with it? I haven't had homemade umeboshi since my mom made it when I was a kid, maybe I can ask for her recipe-”

“Masaki,” Jun says, stilling him. He’s been calling him that more, lately, using it to punctuate a point or reminding him of a household chore. It never fails to still Aiba, quieting and focusing him in a way that almost nothing else quite did. It’s not that he’s not called that- his family calls him that, and Nino and Sho both use his given name when annoyed and fond, respectively, but Jun is different, the way he is in so many things. Jun’s smiling at him now, a small, sweet smile that had been lost when the small adolescent Aiba befriended became a sharp-edged teen, and had returned when those edges smoothed over into quiet, caring seriousness in adulthood. “They’ll be ready soon,” he’s saying, voice quietly fond. “I know you love it- why did you think I planted it?”

Something clicks into place.

Oh, Aiba thinks, looking down at Jun’s pale, sun-lit face, a smudge of dirt at his temple that Aiba wants to wipe away. That’s what Nino was talking about.

Nino was right: this was going to be a disaster.

 “This is a disaster,” Jun tells Ohno over the phone, voice strangled. “I should’ve never agreed to this. It’s going to kill me, and my gravestone will say ‘Here lies Matsumoto Jun, who died because he chose to live with Aiba Masaki’. Nino will find a way to contact my ghost just to mock my awful life decisions. Fuck.” It’s one of the those times when he’s alone in their home, Aiba leaving for work while Jun writes up (or should be writing up) emails and drafting designs from the comfort of his - their - home. Instead, he chooses to call Ohno, who should be opening his bakery at this hour but who everyone knows will be painting instead, to bemoan his living arrangements.

Ohno makes a soft sound of sympathy over the phone- or maybe it was a snore. You never really knew, with him. “Is this about the Aiba-chan snacks?” the older boy asks softly. So, not asleep. “Nino said that they were bad enough to kill an army, but me ‘n Sho-chan can eat them fine. Maybe have some milk with it?”

Jun facepalms. “No, Ohno-san, it’s not the cooking,” he pauses. Considers. “Well, not just the cooking.”

Though the cooking had been...a journey. A journey full of trials, tribulations, and “Matsujun, what would happen if we pickled this?”. Jun had put his foot down after exactly one meal, and took over kitchen duties to Aiba’s protests. Not that that stopped Aiba in any way, merely redirected his energy towards trying to coax Jun into tasting his creations on a near-daily basis.

“It’s-” he waves a fruitless hand around, trying to find any dignified way of putting it. “His moles.”

Okay, apparently not. At least Ohno wasn’t prone to mockery.

Here’s the thing: Jun is aware that Aiba is...attractive. That was never a question. Everyone knew Aiba was hot, it was like a fact of the universe, like gravity or ocean tides or the fact that Sho needed about half a bottle of Ambien to survive a plane ride. It had always been obvious, but it had also been a distant awareness, the same way that he was aware that Ohno or Nino were attractive in their own ways, the same way that he grew to think of Sho’s smile as not heart-stopping or world-tilting, but beautiful all the same. The same way he knew that others found him attractive.

Now, though-

Now there was Aiba, sprawled out in Jun’s leather couch, worn t-shirt riding up to show tan muscles. Aiba wandering around shirtless as he looks for his socks. Aiba stripping of fur-covered clothes as he wanders into the living room after a day at the veterinary office, dragging his shirt over his head in a smooth, thoughtless move. Aiba coming fresh out of the shower, thin shirts and boxers clinging to damp skin- worse, Aiba coming out of the shower after forgetting his pyjamas, towel slung low over his hips in the most obnoxiously attractive of ways.

It was enough to drive a man to drink, if it weren't for the fact that he lived with Aiba, which meant that he really couldn't trust himself drunk around the other man, which meant that drinking was strictly prohibited to times when he was alone, bitching to his best friend over the phone.

“Why the fuck didn't I learn after Sho?” he laments, feeling maudlin. “Fucking- being attracted to your friends never pays off. Dumb.”

Ohno hums. “Aiba-chan is very pretty,” he agrees, soft. “But Jun-kun isn't dumb.”

“I am,” Jun insists. “I’m very stupid. Stupid enough to fall for someone like-” he pauses, his words filtering through his slightly buzzed mind. “Fuck.”

“Oh,” Ohno says, not sounding very surprised. Jun puts his head in his hands.

Because that was it, wasn’t it? If it had just been attraction, Jun could’ve dealt with it, could’ve pushed it down and ignored it until it faded the same way he got rid of any other mild inconvenience. But it wasn’t just Aiba looking good in his worn three-quarter jeans and animal pun tees, it was all the other stuff. The way that finding Aiba half-asleep on the sofa made Jun smile involuntarily, lingering at the sight for a beat too long before waking the other boy up before he rolls his way off the couch. The way that his clumsiness had somehow gone from annoying to endearing. The way that seeing his slack face first thing in the morning had somehow become breathtaking.

The way that, Jun realises with mounting horror, he didn't want to fuck Aiba - well, he didn’t just want to fuck him. He also wanted to hold his hand.

“I should’ve cut it off when it was still attraction,” he whispers, terror crashing over him with the force of a thousand tiny puppies. “Before I got a freaking crush. What am I, twelve?”

“Aiba-chan’s very loveable,” Ohno says comfortingly, and Jun knows that if he were actually here he would’ve been patting Jun’s back gently. “Jun-kun has good taste.”

“Unlike you,” Jun says on autopilot, mind still whirring. “Oh god,” he murmurs. “I’m going to have to move out, aren't I.”

There’s a beat of silence over the phone, and Ohno sounds more confused than usual when his voice comes through once more. “Why would you move out? Isn't this a good thing?”

“A good-” Jun splutters. “Ohno-san, I have a crush on my roommate, who I share a bed with. How is this a good thing?”

“Well, now you can really share his bed,” Ohno says, perfectly innocent.

“You’ve been around Nino for too long,” Jun says wearily, though he’s perfectly aware that Ohno is completely capable of being a little shit all by himself.

“Well, why not?” Ohno sounds infuriatingly calm. “Now that you know, you can tell him, and you’ll be a real couple.”

“Have you forgotten about Sho-san?”

“Sho-chan was different,” Ohno says mildly. “You put him on a - what was it? - a pedestal. And he didn't want to break your heart, so he never said anything about it, and then it got super awkward for everyone. Aiba-chan wouldn’t do something like that, he’s too straightforward.”

It’s possibly the most words that Jun has ever heard from Ohno at any given time, and spoke to a level of observation that Jun was aware that Ohno possessed, but never expected him to show. “Yeah, but-” he waves a hand, knowing that Ohno wouldn’t be able to see it.

“It worked out for me ‘n Nino.”

Jun rubs at his temples. “You asked Nino out by blasting Taylor Swift under his window and asking him to be ‘the Yuuji to my Taka’. On April Fool’s day.” Sho had asked hesitantly the next day whether it was a goof or if they were actually going out, and Nino had just stared at him for a full minute from Ohno’s lap before saying simply: “Yes.”

Jun still wasn't sure if they had actually started dating that day, or if it had been one of their convoluted long-term practical jokes.

“Ah, my space cowboy,” Ohno sighs dreamily, and the most horrifying thing is that Jun can't tell if he’s joking. “My forever guy.” For a blissful moment, Jun thinks that they’re back into status quo territory, but then he starts again. “But that’s not what worked. What worked was that we knew each other, what we could have from each other.”

“I don’t know, though,” Jun says. “What he can give me.”

“But you know you work together,” Ohno tells him, terribly fond. “You know you can fall in love while building lives around each other. Isn't that a good place to start?”

And, putting it like that, Jun supposes that it is.

 Predictably, Jun’s hard-won determination to actually pursue a relationship is hijacked by Aiba’s Feelings, though he didn't know it at the time. What he does know at the time is this: Sho’s visiting.

To reiterate: Sakurai Sho. Is visiting.

“Masaki, help me vacuum the sofa- this place is a mess.” Jun demands, hair tied back as he dusts the already-spotless counter. Aiba stares at him for a moment, incredulous, but decides not to argue with an irate Matsumoto Jun.

He’s pretty sure that Sho won't mind a bit of a mess, if you could even call their house that. Both Jun and Aiba are capable and habitual cleaners, and even when they weren’t- well, Sho wasn’t exactly going to find their house any messier than his. But this was Jun, and Jun had always been...weird. About Sho. Aiba’s stomach twists a little at the thought, but he pushes it out of his mind determinedly. It’s not like you’re dating, he tells himself. You don't get to be jealous of someone Jun likes. The thought isn't very comforting.

It takes them the entire Friday evening to clean the house to Jun’s exacting standards, wiping down surfaces and changing the guest bedroom sheets and fluffing the couch cushions (why...?). By the end of it, even Aiba’s sturdy fountain of cheer has faded somewhat, and he finds himself relieved when Jun finally declares that the house is ‘barely’ acceptable for their guest.

“Did you want to impress him that much?” Aiba almost asks, and it’s what he would’ve said before all of this, easy and teasing, but now he finds that he really doesn’t want to hear the answer.

 The doorbell rings the next afternoon, six on the dot, and the ridiculous preciseness is so Sho that Jun feels a rush of familiar affection. When he opens the door, it for a second is like stepping back in time, Sho standing in front of him with the same warm smile, the same broad, sloping shoulders, the same crinkled brown eyes that Jun had been so ridiculously infatuated with almost a decade ago. It’s almost strange when Jun doesn’t feel the familiar swoop in the pit of his chest, though he’d begun to fall out of love years ago, quietly beginning to let go when Sho had boarded a plane to halfway across the world.

“Matsujun!” Sho says, bright despite the early hour. “It’s been a while.”

“We Skyped last week,” Jun returns, smiling. “But yeah, it’s good to see you in person.”

Sho moves in for a hug, and it’s never gotten any less strange that he’s actually shorter than Jun. Behind them, there’s a smattering of footsteps. Jun braces himself for Aiba’s inevitably loud greeting, or him tackling the two of them in one of those group hugs that he loves so much, but the footsteps stop, and there isn’t any more noise. Jun pulls back from the hug, turning to face Aiba, and catches a glimpse of a strange look on Aiba’s face, before a grin takes over his expression.

“Sho-chan! You look sharper in person!” Aiba strides over in a few steps, and Sho moves to hug him fully. “But you’re paler than Nino! Have you gone out at all these months?”

Sho laughs. “British weather,” he explains, pulling back to look at Aiba from arm’s-length. “You look good, though. Veterinarian life suits you.”

Aiba beams at him, and Jun manages to forget the moment of strangeness from before.

 Sho sits on at the dining table and chats with them over pasta and good wine, face calm in a way that Aiba wouldn’t have believed he could have become when they were teenagers. Years of college has actually softened rather than hardened him, wearing down his frantic energy and steel-edged anxiety into something more steady and confident. It reminds him of Jun, the way he learned to settle underneath his skin, and the thought of what other things they might share makes him hurt, just a bit. He’d never been a jealous person- not with previous partners, and certainly not of his friends, but maybe that was because he’d never had anything to be jealous of.

Dinner is delicious as always, and Sho heaps praise on a smugly pleased Jun as they move to the living room to chat, limbs loose and heavy with good food, alcohol and company. Jun laughs at something Sho says, a sweet, startled sound like Aiba rarely hears, and he has to force himself to keep his smile on his face. “So,” he says, keeping his voice steady. “Are you going to stay in Britain after you finish your dissertation?”

Sho considers. “I don’t think so,” he decides. “I love Japan too much- and I’d like to see you guys more often. Skype just isn't the same.” he waves around the living room. “I mean- how could I have seen how cool your new place is if I had to look through those call windows?”

Jun looks pleased at the inadvertent compliment to his furniture. Aiba laughs and says: “This was all Matsujun, you know, we couldn’t salvage anything from my old place.”

“Not that I would’ve allowed anything like that in here even if we could’ve gotten some stuff out,” Jun wrinkles his nose. “Your furnishings were made up of shitty thrift shop finds and roadside pickups, not exactly prime home material.”

Aiba shrugs. “I’m a veterinary assistant, we’re not exactly known for being in the upper tax brackets,” he flutters his eyelashes at Jun. “Which is why I’m so grateful for Jun-sama for saving me out of my squalor and allowing me to live in the lap of luxury!” he sighs dramatically, lowering his voice a pitch. “My hero.”

Jun rolls his eyes, but looks pleased - and somewhat flushed? - anyways. “Don’t be a moron, I’m in it for the garden.”

Aiba’s reply is cut off by Sho’s laughter, the older boy looking between the two of them with deep fondness. “You know,” he says. “I thought this wouldn’t end well. But you two are good for each other. I’m glad.”

Aiba opens his mouth. Closes it. That almost sounds like he thinks-

“Oh, no,” Jun says, flushing. “We’re not- we’re not actually a couple.”

And okay, that stings. Even if it’s just the truth. Sho looks between the two of them, blinking in confusion. “O-oh,” he says, hesitant. “I see. I’m sorry- I just assumed-”

Aiba cuts himself off with a laugh. “Sho-chan, please, like Jun would go for me.”

He grins over at Jun, a little teasing, only to find the other boy looking at him strangely.

“Why wouldn't I go for someone like you?” Jun asks, brows furrowed. Sho looks at the two of them, expression growing profoundly uncomfortable. Aiba shrugs, a little helplessly.

“Er,” he says, awkward, then continues, seeing Jun’s stubborn face. “...because I’m not your type?”

“Who said you weren't my type?” Jun presses on, looking offended, of all things. Aiba looks at Sho pleadingly, but Sho is determinedly trying to become one with the sofa cushions.

He waves a awkward hand. “I mean-” he gestures at Sho, who tries even harder to feed himself to their furniture. “- you know? And I’m-” he gestures to himself. “...me.”

“Yeah, you’re you,” Jun agrees, perfectly placid but for the fire in his eyes. “You’re Aiba Masaki. You’re ridiculous, and infuriating, and loud and clumsy as hell and made me move in with you because of the couple’s discount.” Aiba makes a face, because Jun didn't have to rub salt in the wound, thanks. “And, you gave me a garden because you knew I’d like it, you text me pictures of animals every day because you know they hate me but you also know that I like seeing them, and you literally spend your days saving lives. What kind of standards would I have if I wasn't in love with you?”

A beat of silence.

“Sorry, you’re what?” Aiba squeaks out. “But-” he flaps a disbelieving hand at Sho, who’s trying very hard to inch off the sofa without making any noise. “- you’re in love with him!”

At that, Sho visibly breaks, face twisting into comical horror as he practically dives for the door, a babble of “I’mgoingtoleavenowgoodtoseeyouhopeitallworksoutbye-” falling from his lips as he scrambles for the exit, not even bothering to put on his shoes in his haste to leave the situation. Aiba and Jun don’t even glance away from each other.

“You...think I’m still in love with Sho,” Jun says slowly as the doors slam behind them, like it’s an absurd notion to have.

“I mean,” Aiba says. “You were in love with him-”

“In high school,” Jun says flatly. Aiba frowns back at him.

“And most of college,” he reminds him. “At least for six years. It wouldn’t be weird if you, you know...”

“Were still in love with him?” Jun’s voice is growing more and more incredulous. “After five years? After moving in with you? Christ, Masaki, even if I didn’t like you, it’d be kind of weird for me to agree to be a pretend couple with you if I’d still had feelings for Sho!”

“I thought you were being a good friend!” Aiba says, aware of how weak an argument that was the second he heard himself saying it. “I mean- your type was Sho-chan, so, well.” he glances down, a little shy. “I’m not exactly Sho.”

Jun glares at him. “I don’t have a type,” he grits out. “I fall in love with the person I fall in love with. And even if I did- you and Sho are both kind, you both laugh at the smallest things, you both get excited at everything the world has to offer, you’re both relentlessly optimistic, you both drive yourselves insane trying to help others, you both love reading, you’re both smart - and don’t look at me like that, you’re a vet, of course you’re smart - and you’re both absolutely oblivious.” Jun groans. “God, I do have a type, don’t I?”

Aiba tries to process the new information flooding his mind. “Wait,” he says slowly. “If you’re in love with me- does that mean we could’ve been having sex this entire time?” he’s a little annoyed now, actually, thinking about how much sex they could’ve been having in that giant bed, instead of awkward boners. Jun looks like he’s reconsidering being in love with such a moron, but now that Aiba knows to look for it, he can see the fondness underneath.

“You are infuriating,” Jun informs him, sounding like he’s trying not to laugh.

Aiba grins at him, waggling his eyebrows. “Why don’t you stop me, then?” he teases, feeling lighter than air, effervescent bubbles back under his skin.

Jun smiles at him, wide and brilliant and loving, and does.

Comments

[ribon]

This was such a cute fic! thank you for sharing :D I love how in character everyone was! definitely going into my favorites 💘