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Morning Light

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The weird thing about dreams is that they never seem weird, not when they're happening. To Jun, it seems perfectly ordinary to be sipping a latte in a crowded café and discussing politics with the baby giraffe Aiba was showing him pictures of last night.

His brain — which, he will soon remember, hasn't been the best at making good decisions lately — doesn't register anything strange until it starts feeding him sensory details from the outside world. Sometimes it'll be his alarm clock going off, or a phone call from his manager, or the oppressive heat of having gone to sleep with a heavy blanket when the weather is just starting to change from winter to spring.

This time, it's the gentle, almost ticklish feeling of lips on his skin.

When the baby giraffe cranes its long neck over the café table and starts mouthing at Jun's shoulder like it thinks he's food, that's when he finally realizes something isn't quite right.

Suddenly, he can feel the warm streaks of sunlight creeping in through his bedroom curtains. He can feel the bedsheet wrapped around his hips and legs, he can taste the sourness left over from last night's binge drinking, and he can hear the quiet, rhythmic breathing of the body hovering over him.

He wakes with a jolt, all images of baby giraffes and steamy lattes vanishing from his mind. Above him, Ohno leans up and greets him with a lazy smile. "Good morning."

Jun is still reeling, but he can see that Ohno is definitely more awake than he is. He still has one hand on Jun's chest, the other one propped against the mattress, and the look in his eyes is hot and intense, like maybe he's been having some vivid dreams of his own. Jun's heart picks up a panicky drumbeat as the memories flood back: Aiba's birthday celebration; way too many tequila shots for a bunch of overworked thirty-somethings; the two of them sharing a cab. Jun's intent had been to get Ohno home safely, but somehow they ended up in Jun's apartment —

In Jun's bed —

The images all come to him in a rush, the last one hitting him like a ten-ton truck. He was leaning over Ohno the way Ohno is leaning over him now, with Ohno languid and wanting beneath him — he was kissing Ohno's neck and touching him all over, incapable of stopping now that he had the one thing he'd been wanting for so many years, now that Ohno was with him, and willing, and egging him on — and both of them drunk, so drunk

That last part is what makes his blood run cold. He's been embarrassingly in love with Ohno for as long as he can remember, but going after him while wasted beyond any threshold of reasonable thought or advisable action wasn't really what he had in mind. He'd constructed a mental list on several occasions, and Get him drunk was always way at the bottom, below even Mortifying intervention by other members and Last two people alive. But it was Aiba's birthday, and after the third round, Sho kept harping on about how there were "miracles in the air!" as Nino motioned for more and more toasts. So much for drinking responsibly.

Here, in the aftermath of Jun's catastrophic lapse in good judgement, Ohno is still balanced over him, looking at him expectantly. He sits back, resting his weight right over Jun's hips, and dear god, that is not helping.

Jun's limbs feel like they're still asleep even if his brain and heart are running a marathon, but he manages to lift his arms and get his hands on Ohno's shoulders, holding him at bay. He stutters out, "O—Ohno-san," his mouth moving clumsily around the sounds.

With a smirk and a sultry drawl obviously meant as a parody of seduction, Ohno says, "That's not what you called me last night." He gives his hips a little wiggle, which could be hilarious any other time except that right now those hips are settled right over Jun's dick, traitorously half-hard already even with the sheet still between them, and all Jun can do is gasp out, "Satoshi —"

But the protest is lost as Ohno leans down, as fluid as ever despite how shitfaced he was not even twelve hours ago, and kisses Jun square on the mouth.

Jun is only human, and right now he's a hungover, shell-shocked human at that. He can't fight his body's instinctive reaction, the way his hands curl tighter over Ohno's shoulders to pull him closer or the way his head tilts and his mouth opens to receive the kiss.

Sleepy and caught off guard, Jun is helpless to do anything but drift in that blissful, dreamlike moment. The warning sirens in his mind fade into quiet hums, and the rapid thumping of his heart slows into a peaceful rhythm. Ohno is here with him, in his bed — kissing him — running his graceful fingers through Jun's pillow-rumpled hair — giving him everything he's ever wanted. In that dreamy kiss, Jun finds that everything in his world is exactly as it should be.

But, like any dream, he can't hold off forever the nagging feeling that something just isn't right. This time, it's the electrifying touch of Ohno's tongue that invites recognition to come bulldozing back to the forefront of Jun's mind.

This is not what he wanted.

With every last shred of willpower available to him, Jun somehow manages to break away, pushing Ohno back with renewed strength. Ohno still has that sated, mid-makeout look in his eyes, but it changes pretty quickly once he sees Jun's face.


There are a million questions Jun could ask, but the one that comes out first is "Are we really doing this?"

Ohno's face scrunches up into a grumpy frown. "Well I'm trying."

"I'm serious," Jun says, desperate. "We're doing this — for real? Last night wasn't a mistake?"

Now Ohno looks downright affronted. "Do you think it was?"

"What — no! It's just, we were both so drunk, and I don't want… this isn't how I wanted it to happen."

Ohno's expression relaxes as he considers. It takes a few moments for the gears to shift, but he finally says, "I guess it's not perfect, right? But I wanted it too, Jun-kun. It's not like I would have said no if you'd approached me like that when we were totally sober."

Ohno says it so casually, like it's the simplest, most straightforward thing, but Jun is having trouble comprehending everything around that tantalizing bit in the middle: I wanted it too. His throat suddenly feels desert-dry when he rasps out, "You… really?"

Ohno continues to blink down at him, unfazed. "Are you surprised?"

If Jun is completely honest with himself — and right now his brain is too busy for things like crushing self-doubt when it's spending all its resources just trying to catch up — then maybe he's not that surprised after all. It's not as if Ohno has ever given him any sign of being uninterested. But Jun knows there's a difference between I'm willing to make fanservice-flavored jokes with you in front of seventy-thousand people and I'm willing to jump in the sack with you for real. Ohno and Nino are a great example of that, though Jun immediately shoves that image right down into the dreary depths of his mind for further reflection when he doesn't already have so much to think about. He knows there's a difference, and he's always been too afraid to figure out where that line is drawn between them — afraid for their relationship, afraid for Arashi, afraid that he would want more than Ohno would be willing to give.

But now Ohno is here, looking him in the eyes, telling him in all seriousness, I wanted it too.

"I guess it's not that surprising," he admits. It's a little embarrassing to say it out loud like that, even more so when Ohno's mouth widens into a smile and his hips do that maddening swivel thing again. Jun is being entirely truthful when he says, "Maybe a little overwhelming, though. It's just, I've wanted this for so long."

Ohno is still swiveling. "Oh yeah? Wanted what?"

Jun remembers, last night: sitting in the cab, breathing obscenities in Ohno's ear and confessing, with the synthetic confidence of too much booze, exactly what he's wanted to do to him all these years.

Ohno seems to remember too. He leans down until they're chest-to-chest, finding no resistance from Jun, and whispers, "Tell me again."

With Ohno's lips by his ear, with Ohno naked on top of him and warming him all over, all Jun can muster is one last, weak protest: "We haven't even brushed our teeth yet."

When Ohno just laughs, Jun leans up for a hesitant kiss — and when Ohno returns it enthusiastically, the hesitation all melts away.

Things are always more clear in the stark light of morning-after sobriety, for better or worse. This time is definitely for the better. Jun repositions his hands on Ohno's shoulders and pulls him down until they're pressed together all along their bodies, the thin cotton of the sheet between them doing nothing to hide the way Ohno is already hard, his hips moving in little ruts against Jun's thighs. Jun opens up to wrap his legs around Ohno, sheet and all, and feels pleasure spark up and down his veins at the way it makes Ohno moan. Jun heard a lot of that last night, but the memories are fuzzy. He wants more.

Their legs get caught and tangled when Jun attempts to flip them over, until their kisses dissolve into laughter and they pull apart so they can attempt to untangle themselves. Finally the sheet gets thrown onto the floor, joining the clothes they discarded last night, and Jun finds himself right where he's wanted to be for so long: holding Ohno down against the mattress, kissing him breathless, feeling Ohno's fingernails rake down his back as he gasps for more.

Maybe Jun is still asleep after all. Maybe he's just nestled quietly in his bed, alone, and later he'll wake up and laugh at all the things that seemed perfectly normal when he was experiencing them. But something about the softness of Ohno's skin gliding against his, the fan of Ohno's eyelashes in the morning sun, the way Ohno's kisses taste without the haze of alcohol to muddy it all up, somehow it all feels solid and certain — it feels real.

Either way, Jun is happy to stay in bed just a while longer.