floweranza: (arashi aibajun 2.)
[personal profile] floweranza
出来た!!!dfgjdfjhg THIS FIC WAS SO HARD ;n; this translation came out while i was writing this and i was like YES omg thx aiba&jun for saying you eat together ilu
confluence, n. 1. a coming or flowing together, meeting, or gathering at one point. 2. the flowing together of two or more streams. Merriam-Webster.


Happy birthday [livejournal.com profile] beckerbell!! :D hearts


Title: Confluence
Pairing: Aiba/Jun
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It's become kind of a given (a funny Arashi inside joke) that no matter where you go in your private time, there's a good chance of Aiba being there.

Jun sighs and sets the hat back down on the shelf. He doesn't really know what to do with his free time. The insanely early cancellation of filming has resulted in eight hours of free time between this day and the next instead of just three.

He's been called a workaholic many times before, and Jun's starting to think everyone's had the right idea. The first thought he had had upon hearing the cancellation was pure annoyance that his planner had been messed up. The second thought had been that he had no idea what to do with eight free hours.

Most likely everyone he knows is working right now. And as he wouldn't like to be disturbed, he's not about to start bothering them.

All Jun's been doing since being allowed to leave has been going around to thrift and furniture stores. He sighs again. If his fans knew he was this much of an aimless person, they probably wouldn't be fans anymore.

There's a bookstore across the street. Jun resignedly heads there, figuring he might as well look for a book his mother had recently recommended. The store is small and cramped inside and Jun has a quick moment of 'idol panic'; if there's ever a commotion, small places are obviously the hardest to escape from. But most teenage girls are in school right now and the coast seems relatively clear.

It's almost deserted inside except for a few old ladies and one young man who is standing between two shelves, nose buried intently in a book. Jun feels a flash of irritation. If you're going to read the book like that, he thinks, why not just buy it and take it home? He turns to go deeper into the store, but something is itching at him so he turns to squint through his sunglasses.

Wait a second.

It's become kind of a given (a funny Arashi inside joke) that no matter where you go in your private time, there's a good chance of Aiba being there. Over the years Jun has heard stories from Sho, Ohno and Nino about them running into Aiba in the weirdest places. He'd always laughed at them because it had never happened to him.

Well. There's always a first for everything.

"Aiba-chan?"

Aiba does that instinctual flail they all do when their names are said in public. His head swivels left and right before he tries to pull the cap down lower, dislodging the sunglasses. They've slid halfway down his nose before he actually looks at Jun, recognizing him. "Matsujun!" he whispers delightedly. Then he frowns. "Wow, you look tired!"

"Thanks," Jun says dryly. "That's what I wanted to hear."

"Eh, you have free time?"

Jun sighs and waves a hand to quiet Aiba down. "Obviously."

"Great!" There's a clatter as Aiba throws the book back on the shelf (a few other customers look up with interest) but Aiba's a whirlwind and before Jun knows it they're both standing outside the small bookstore. Jun stands dazed as the sun shines right through the sides of his sunglasses; he squints at it as Aiba hooks an arm through his, starting to shuffle them down the street.

All of a sudden it hits him that he has no idea what's going on.

"W-wait--"

"Let's go have dinner together, Matsujun! Well, maybe not at a restaurant, I don't have that much cash on me. My place, then. My car's parked pretty close by so we can stop at a combini too--"

Jun digs his heels in, bringing them to a stop. "Hey! I didn't say I could have dinner with you!"

"Come in, we barely have any time to do stuff with each other anymore! Please? It'll be fun!" Aiba has his typical look of stubborn determination, eyebrows bunching up below his bangs and above the dark line of the sunglasses. "I'll make it worth it!"

"Aiba-chan, look, maybe another time--"

"Jun."

Jun jerks his head up to look at Aiba. For an instant there's a flash of neediness in Aiba's eyes, something that Jun recognizes; it's hidden as quickly as it came. Jun's seen it before. It makes Jun think of his own apartment, empty and cold and carefully neat. Then he thinks of Aiba's, which has the strangest (usually broken in some way) ethnic decorations scattered everywhere, and towering piles of laundry that always make Jun's blood boil and an innate warmness that's so Aiba even if Aiba is always complaining about never being able to fill it up with just himself.

"Okay, let's go," Jun says softly, interrupting the other man who's gearing up for more begging, mouth open like an idiot. "Where's your car?"

Obviously not expecting to have won so easily, Aiba blinks at him. "Uh. Two blocks over."

The combination of Aiba and driving is a point of contention for a lot of people. Aiba has a knack of easily finding cheap parking in the city (which annoys Nino) and he's actually a good driver, calm and steady, which annoys Jun just because. Also, Aiba never passes up a chance to rib Jun about that one time Jun drove Aiba's new car against a pole, hahaha, remember that. Jun's about to throttle him by the time they reach the convenience store.

But he keeps a glance at Aiba's hands on the steering wheel throughout the drive. They're just a bit too white, though Aiba's grins and chatter are normal.

"Oh no, you don't," Jun snaps, snatching the red shopping basket out of Aiba's hands. "If I'm going to eat dinner with you, I'm cooking." Last time had been dangerous. Jun still can't forget the taste.

Aiba pouts for a bit before flashing him a bright smile. "Okay! Bambi better cook something good for us, then!"

Jun rolls his eyes. They keep a low profile as they move through the store, Jun carefully checking and comparing prices as he throws things into the basket. Aiba's mostly quiet, shuffling along behind him; his interest is in watching the other customers.

They arrive at the apartment without any incident.

Aiba buzzes them through security. The lights of the parking garage paint alternating bright and dim stripes of yellow across Aiba's cheeks.

It's a pretty high-end place. Being who they are, getting a normal apartment is difficult even if they want one. Most of them grew up in relatively normal homes and truthfully, it's still hard to adjust. (Aiba likes flashy cars, though.) Nino is always proud of saying that he lives in the 'ghetto,' while Sho would likely be okay with living at a farm if he had his army of books and a laptop. Leader probably doesn't care much, one way or the other. Jun is not fond of his own apartment; it feels too big for him, too empty and extravagant. Aiba says the saving grace of this one is the balcony: "You can see fish flip in the water from here!"

"Sorry for the mess," Aiba says, unceremoniously kicking away a game controller. Jun winces, but Aiba carefully sets down the bag with the bottle of wine in its place. "Do you need help with anything? I promise I won't ruin stuff..."

Jun turns and grasps Aiba's elbow, fingers light. "Take a shower while I cook. I'll take one while it's on the stove, so don't let anything burn." His heart thumps a little in his chest, heavy.

Aiba's gaze flickers up to Jun once before his eyelashes lower, resting on his cheeks. "Okay," he says. "Okay!" he repeats, flashing a smile. "I'll be quick! And careful!"

The shower runs in the background while Jun chops the vegetables (he doesn't even need to look down anymore). He thinks of that brief look of loneliness in Aiba's eyes; it's something Jun himself recognizes and hates. He shakes his head and turns back to cooking. What he's possibly offering - if Aiba chooses to take it - is as much for himself as it is for Aiba.

The water turns off and Aiba emerges, running a towel through his mop of hair. There are beads of water running down his neck and Jun tears his eyes away. Aiba looks down at the stove and exclaims delightedly, "Pasta!"

It's actually more complicated than that, but Jun doesn't want to be teased for explaining. He leaves Aiba standing there armed with an apron and a few strict words. ("Don't stir it too much, if it starts bubbling turn the heat down and whatever you do don't add anything--") The whole bathroom smells like Aiba.

When he comes out, Aiba's thoughtfully put out the food and two glasses of wine. It's not a bad arrangement. The TV is set to News ZERO with its volume low because it's Monday and they all watch Sho whenever they can. Jun plops down on the couch next to Aiba, reaching for the plate.

"Good?"

Aiba turns to blink at him, face stuffed like a beaver. "Really good!"

Jun smiles, pleased. They eat companionably for a while, watching Sho discuss something Jun doesn't really understand beyond a layman's knowledge. It's enough just watching him. The level of wine in their glasses gets lower with time.

"I'm sorry." Aiba's voice breaks the quiet, content hum of the room.

"Sorry?"

"Sorry that I just," he starts gesturing, trying to find the words, "dragged you here like this, it's just--"

"That's okay." Jun cuts him off. Then he hesitates. "Is something wrong?" He wouldn't ever think of asking this question to someone else. But it's Aiba.

Aiba pushes his food away from the table, resting his chin on his clasped hands. "Wrong? No..." He fidgets, rocking lightly in his seat. Then he turns to Jun quickly. "It's just, don't you think I've had too much free time lately?"

Jun frowns. "Free time?" There had been a time when Jun had known everyone's schedules for the week, but that's impossible now with the large scope of individual work they all do. He can't know exactly, but he hasn't seen Aiba any less busy than the others. Aiba might not have a drama, but he has a stageplay and Jun thinks that's even more difficult. Drama filming is less pressure; in stage, performances last all day and require a mental dexterity Jun isn't sure he's suited to. "No."

"A stageplay and a few shows," Aiba says wryly, head resting on the back of the couch. His eyes are unfocused and bemused, looking up like the ceiling can answer him something. "I don't do enough. I'm always, always one step behind you guys."

Jun sighs and moves closer to him, reaching out to grasp Aiba's hand. So that's it. Aiba's not drunk. But when he drinks only a little, his barriers of cheerfulness and shyness collapse. Sometimes Jun thinks Aiba ends up drinking so much not because he likes it, but because he does it to pass by the state where he has to think about everything that worries him. "Your stageplay was really good, Aiba-chan."

Aiba makes a wordless noise and squeezes Jun's fingers. His eyes drift closed. They sit together in silence for a while, Aiba's thigh warm against his own. The TV hums softly in the background (he can hear Sho's voice saying something, for a moment) but Jun's world is quiet, centered in on the small amount of wine in him and Aiba by his side.

Aiba's fallen asleep by now, maybe. Jun is leaning away to take the blanket and drape it over him when Aiba tightens his hold on Jun's hand, fingers damp. Jun looks over and the lines around Aiba's eyes have deepened.

More than a decade now, he has watched those lines increase from laughter.

He can't help but lean in and kiss them. Aiba's eyes open at the touch, familiar and dark, and Jun ghosts a kiss over his lips. Aiba smiles.

"Ahh," he says softly. "Like always, Jun-kun's so nice."

Among all the things he loves, Jun can't help but love this person.

They kiss properly, tongues sliding past and caressing each other. Jun nips at Aiba's full lower lip and makes him gasp. He pushes the other man down until he's trapped on the couch beneath Jun's body, knees on either side of Jun's hips and eyes wide. "You idiot," Jun whispers. "The way you are, the things you do, without them everyone would be so unhappy."

He runs his fingers through Aiba's hair, tugs them back lightly so he can kiss along Aiba's jaw. "...don't you dare change, don't do more than you need to..."

Aiba makes a small sound, hands gripping at Jun's shirt where they're stuck between their bodies. "Jun?"

Jun noses at Aiba's cheek, then pushes himself up on his forearms. "Do you want this?"

His bandmate looks up at him, still-wet hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks. He turns his head slowly and kisses at Jun's thin wrist. "Who would refuse?"

"You'd be surprised." Jun laughs and claims Aiba's mouth again. Aiba giggles into the kiss and Jun breaks it to gently bite Aiba's collarbone. "Why are you laughing, moron?"

Aiba gives a skillful roll of his hips against Jun's body, fingers sneaking under Jun's shirt. "I'm happy you're here."

Jun hmms against Aiba's skin, tugging Aiba's shirt up until it's off and puddled by the side of the couch. He thumbs Aiba's soft nipple, watching it harden under his touch. "Lube? Condoms?" he whispers.

Aiba wiggles under Jun, then sticks his hand between the couch cushions and fishes around. A second later he's produced both items. Jun stares at him. "What?" Aiba defends. "It's easy to reach!" He urges Jun's arms up until Jun's shirt is off too, then runs his hands up Jun's sides and pulls him down. "Come on, come on."

Jun clicks his tongue. "Impatient." He kisses down Aiba's chest, pausing to drag his tongue over a nipple. "I'm not going to go fast if you complain." He blows on the wet skin, smirking at Aiba's stifled curse, and then moves down until he can trace the edge of Aiba's pants with a finger. Aiba's erection is already tenting the light sweatpants and Jun smoothes his palm over it.

"Juuuun." Aiba's eyes are needy. He shoves Jun's hands away and pushes his own pants down, kicking them away. Then he grins and pulls Jun's down too, underwear and all. "This is how things go, right?"

Aiba's ruining all his plans of going slowly, drawing this out until Aiba doesn't feel lonely anymore. It's always like that, though; Aiba ends up drawing the rest of them into whatever crazy plan he has, like a real storm. And sometimes it's just easier to go along with him rather than argue.

Jun abandons any sophistication and drops to envelope the warm head of Aiba's cock in his mouth. He sucks in deeply, dragging his tongue over it. Aiba's cursing, hips thrusting up against Jun's hold on them. Jun gives one slow lick up the length before taking his mouth off, placing a kiss on the spit-slicked head. He looks up and grins. Aiba's breathing hard, eyes wide.

"How do you want this?" Jun asks. He then sees that Aiba's hands are trying to sneak down to his own cock and rolls his eyes, grasping them by the wrists.

"Eh?" Aiba says. "Oh. Like this." He pulls and tugs until Jun's sitting and Aiba is straddling his lap. Aiba's birthmark is right in front of Jun's nose and he kisses it; it's really quite pretty. It distracts him so much that Aiba rolling a condom down his length sets his nerves on fire. He's been hard for so long, paying attention just to Aiba and the sudden touch is intense.

"Hey," Jun scowls. He reaches for the lube and squeezes some out on his fingers, intending to pay Aiba back.

"No," Aiba catches Jun's hand, getting the slick over his fingers, "I'll do it myself. Watch," he says and reaches back. His eyes flicker to Jun's face before his eyelashes flutter. Jun's breath hitches because Aiba has his own fingers in himself for Jun to follow, working himself open.

Aiba takes a breath before straddling Jun's hips again. Jun runs a finger down the side of Aiba's cheek, lingering, before Aiba grins and leans his forehead on Jun's shoulder. Jun drops his hands to Aiba's hips to steady him and then Aiba is pushing down, all the way down, until he's whimpering quietly in the back of his throat.

"Okay?" Jun asks, massaging at Aiba's hips and trying so hard not to move. Aiba's clutching at Jun's shoulders, shivering, but he nods and then he rolls his hips. Jun can't help but thrust up into that heat and Aiba moans low and deep.

They find the rhythm easily. It's due to more than ten years of familiarity and friendship and Jun treasures it more than anything as Aiba gasps into his ear, "Jun, Jun, Jun."

Jun runs a hand down Aiba's long spine, feels out where their bodies are joined. Aiba shudders against him, whole body undulating, small puffs of breath sticky and hot against Jun's skin. It's driving him insane, Aiba's heat, the way his hands constantly traverse Jun's body like he doesn't know where he can hold on to so the pleasure doesn't take him away.

He doesn't want to come first. He leans back and sees that Aiba's eyes are closed tight, sweat beading at his temples and cheeks red, flushed. Aiba's breathing raggedly and pushing back at every thrust, a small moan coming out with every grind and stroke of Jun's fingers over his nipples. Jun knows he's close.

Jun hauls Aiba close. He sucks at the junction of Aiba's neck and shoulder, thrusting up hard and pulling a long stroke up Aiba's cock all at the same time. Aiba gasps and arches, an impossibly beautiful silhouette, and comes against Jun's hand and belly.

Jun comes hard at that image, hands spasming on Aiba's skin.

He comes back to himself and Aiba is slumped over him, body warm and still shaking. He's muttering into Jun's shoulder, "Thank you, when I have time to myself and I'm all alone, I..." He lifts himself off Jun's softening cock and they both exhale at the sensation, and then he curls up at Jun's side. "Thank you."

"I know," Jun says. And he does. He turns to Aiba and takes his face in his hands, kissing him deep.

Later on they're both tucked under the blanket together, the TV painting soft light on their skin. Aiba's asleep at Jun's side, arms thrown over Jun's body. Jun's running his fingers through Aiba's hair. They're both people who get lonely easily but together they aren't. That's what makes it special, these occasional meetings of theirs, the coming-togethers that only they can understand.

Aiba whistles through his nose in his sleep. Jun pinches the other's nostrils shut. Then he turns the television off and closes his eyes, because this much free time really is a godsend.
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Julia

May 2009

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