just a little bit further to your town [arashi rps]

Title: just a little bit further to your town
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~5,000 words
Pairing Ohno/Nino, Arashi gen.
Summary: Part of the same universe as Saudade and In That Certain Time. The title comes from Arashi's Subarashiki Sekai. If you're interested, I've put up my soundtrack for this 'verse on my journal over here. Thank you and lots of love to rhythmia, honooko & still_ciircee for looking this over for me! ♥

“Are you done sulking yet?” Aiba asks again, tapping his fingers on the cart.

“I’m not sulking,” Jun replies absently, his eyes still fixed on the cooler, frowning. He’s trying to remember which brand of yogurt Leader likes best. Out of spite, because grocery shopping with Aiba is a study in patience (one near-miss with a can pyramid and two inappropriate jokes about the shape of bananas in front of some preschoolers so far), he adds, “I’m still trying to figure out how I got stuck here with you.”

Aiba pouts, but a grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “Matsujun is so mean.”

“Stop that,” Jun says, avoiding Aiba’s puppy eyes. “You’re over 30, you know.”

“I’m not the one with grey hairs,” Aiba points out, wilting a little under Jun’s glare. The incident with the hair dye and Aiba’s camera had been at least two years ago, but Jun didn’t think he’d ever hear the end of it.

Jun tosses a carton of the healthiest-looking yogurt in the cart and whaps Aiba in the shoulder a little more violently than necessary. “Baking aisle,” he commands.

“Nino was sulking the whole time we were in Australia,” Aiba says casually a few minutes later, while Jun is kneeling down to check the price of the smaller bags of rice on the bottom shelf. “The whooole time. Even when he was drunk – especially when he was drunk.”

“Mmhmm.” Jun is pretty sure he knows where Aiba is going with this, and he’s not quite sure what he thinks about the whole thing altogether. “Do you think we’re going to need two of the smaller bags? It’s probably too much to drag one of the big ones onto the ferry.”

“Maybe. Two? Sho-chan eats lots of rice,” Aiba says, distracted. “Leader too.”

“Two it is, then.” Jun hefts the sacks into the cart, trying not to squash any of the vegetables. “By the way, does – what’s her name? – Mei? Was she okay with you leaving for the holidays?”

“Who?” Aiba asks, looking confused and Jun resists the urge to beat him over the head with one of the sacks of rice. “Mei – oh, Jun, that was two months ago! But Sumire’s cool with it, yeah. She’s going skiing with her friends.”

“Right.” Jun doesn’t know why he even bothers to try and keep track anymore sometimes. It’s not like he’s Sho and wants to lecture Aiba about settling down and starting on his two-and-a-half kids – and hell, Jun’s hardly the golden standard for marriage anymore – but seeing the same face more than once would be nice. It isn’t like Aiba isn’t sincere about things, because he is – he dives into each new relationship like a schoolboy in love and it has to hurt when it ends. Aiba’s never acted like it fazes him. “So you and Mei broke up?”

Aiba shrugs, the same slightly baffled, unperturbed expression on his face from every unsuccessful A no Arashi experiment ever. “Yeah, we did.” I wonder why that happened?, Jun could almost hear him wonder, serious and curious, What if we try it again? It sounds almost comical in his head – ah, he didn’t need to worry about Aiba. Aiba bruised himself on the world like an overgrown puppy, all excitement and no fear, and then he licked his cuts. He'd be okay.

"Can't we just get most of this stuff at the island grocery?" Aiba waves Jun's list at him. "It's too much to carry there. Let's just buy the rice and stuff when we get to the island tomorrow."

"It's fresher here." Jun says firmly. "And cheaper." He had braved Toshima-mura's tiny grocery mart just once during his week with Ohno, when they had run out of coffee and toast bread, and he was still surprised that he had left with his pants intact.

"At least the rice," Aiba says coaxingly. "Think of poor Sho-chan and his air muscles. We can make him go pick it up once we get there. The supermarket grannies will love him."

"They will rape him," Jun says, but he piled the sacks of rice back onto the shelf anyways. He checks his list again; they've only got to pick out some meat still, then they can check out.

"You keep changing the subject," Aiba says, as Jun is sorting through packages of beef. "Because I think we should talk about Leader and Nino and every time I say something, you just –"

"Aiba," Jun says impatiently. "Aiba. We are not talking about this in public."

"You didn't want to talk about it in the taxi either," Aiba pointed out.

"Public," Jun hisses, as a group of passing schoolgirls giggle and try not to stare too obviously. He tugs his trucker hat a little farther down over his face.

"Okay," Aiba says, unruffled, and then, "Oh! Are we getting beer?"

"For what, New Year's?" Jun nudges Aiba into steering the cart in a straight path. "Didn't Sho say he'd take care of that?"

"How about for tonight?" Aiba narrowly avoids a run-in with another cart being pushed by a middle-aged woman coming around a sharp corner from the meat section. "Whoops, oh! Sorry."

"We can just go out, can't we?" Jun grabs the cart from Aiba, pushing determinedly forward towards the check-outs.

"Oh? I thought we were staying in," Aiba says innocently, and really, Jun should have known that Aiba is always paying attention, even when it looks like he isn't, even when he's busy poking at a display of O'Zacks like a sticky-handed three-year old while Jun has rushed conversations at the bakery counter.

He'd hidden the tiny white box carefully under his bundled-up leather jacket, but he should have known that Aiba had caught on when he didn't even comment on Jun picking up a few ingredients that weren't on the list the five of them had hastily scribbled out before Nino and Ohno had rushed out to catch the ferry after the taping.

"I just feel bad, all right?" Jun says gruffly, as they load the items from their cart onto the moving belt. "We didn't really do anything for your birthday this year."

"Nino took me to a strip club when we were down under," Aiba says cheerfully. "It was fun." His eyes track the package of chicken breasts, the box of linguine and the garlic as Matsujun pulls them from the cart. "Uwaaa, but Matsujun is making me a birthday dinner! You're the best."

Jun fights off Aiba's stranglehold around his neck as he's trying to fumble his credit card out of his wallet. "Get off of me, you moron!"

He tries not to smile, but it's a losing battle.

*

Three days ago – Perth, 1:30AM

"It's like," Nino says, sounding a lot more slurred than he did two shots ago, eyes fixed on the blond rubbing teasingly against the pole of the left of the stage closest to their table. "It's like, fuck. Can't turn my mind off. I just want him."

Aiba makes a vague, sympathetic noise, nearly uppercutting Nino in the chin in an attempt to pat him on the hand. "Like fish."

"Is what." Nino slides his head down into his hands, cradling his forehead. "You make even less sense than I do and I'm the one with the giant fucking problem here."

"No, s'like." Aiba gestures wildly. "Big ugly fish. Lots of teeth. Do you want another drink?"

"What, I'm an ugly fish?" Nino stumbles to his feet, bracing his hands against the smooth wood of the table. "I'll get this round, birthday boy." The cute, petite brunette who had been circling Aiba all evening was dancing near the table, flicking glances at him, running her hands over her hips.

The bar is noisy and crowded, and Nino taps his fingers against the counter while he waits, the pound of the music driving under his skin. He chances a glance back at their table; the brunette has all but crawled into Aiba's lap, swaying her hips sensually as she dances in front of him. She's wearing a cheap, kitschy Santa hat. He can see Aiba's face; bemused, smiling stupidly, kind of turned on. The air in the bar is sharp with the tang of sweat, the air too heated. Nino's dying for a cigarette; screw indoor smoking bans anyways. The girl will probably keep Aiba busy for awhile, and then he can sneak out for a smoke without being lectured about Ohno.

Almost automatically, he digs his phone out of his pocket, flipping it open. No new messages. The bartender slides over the drinks and Nino shoves his cell back into his pants, wishing he somehow could just stop caring about it.

"Anko!" Aiba says triumphantly, when Nino returns. Nino rubs at his face, feeling suddenly tired. The girl is gone, somehow, and Aiba is leaning forward on his elbows on the table, earnest and fixated. "They mate for life."

"I hate you." Nino shoved Aiba's drink towards him before knocking back his own. "I don't even care if it is your birthday tomorrow."

"No, 'n, listen." Aiba's eyes are starting to wander, but his voice is fervent. "Follows his mate, you see? Across the ocean, like, smells her."

"Smells her how? Can fish smell anything?"

"He follows her scent, see, "Aiba plows on determindedly." Follows it, and once he's found her –"

"All the way across the ocean."

"All the way 'cross the ocean. He bites her and," Aiba pauses for dramatic effect. "He never lets go."

Nino considers this, staring at the bottom of his empty glass. "That's romantic."

"Isn't it?" Aiba says earnestly, missing the sarcasm by a wide mile. "And he attaches himself to her like – becomes like a fish penis or something. Reproductive organs. They fuse together."

Nino watches Aiba drain his glass. "So you're saying that I should bite Leader and become his fish-penis?"

"You're missing the metaphor, Nino-chan." Aiba hits him on the shoulder. "I'm saying – what I'm saying is that you can't let go."

Nino absentmindedly picks up a napkin from the table, ripping off pieces and twisting them into tiny paper ropes. "It's so fucking stupid," he mutters, more to himself than Aiba.

"We all just want you two to be happy," Aiba says quietly. "You should talk."

Nino feels the edges of his lips pull into a bitter smile. "Sure. Yeah." He wonders if it's just because he's drunk or if he's finally getting desperate enough to believe that might actually go well. He still can't allow himself to believe that.

Aiba clinks his empty glass against his solemnly. "Happy Christmas."

*

"I haven't really had time to unpack," Jun says by way of an apology when Aiba stubs his toe on a cardboard box before Jun managed to flip the lights on.

They pick their way through the small labyrinth of boxes and crates surrounding the entranceway, and Aiba dumps his overnight bags in the hallway before carrying the groceries into the kitchen. He stretches his shoulders, taking a good look around the small apartment.

"Don't you have any furniture at all?" The kitchen opened directly onto the living room, separated only by a small island counterspace. The floor of the living room was empty, cleanly polished wooden floorboards with a few boxes stacked haphazardly here and there.

Jun shrugs. "I left most of it with Aiko. A lot was her stuff to begin with." He begins to rummage through the bags of groceries. "I haven't really had time to go shopping, but I've been on the set up north, so I've only been back here a handful of times."

"Oh." Aiba had only actually met Aiko a few times, both before and after she and Jun had gotten married. He knew that she was an interior designer – that was how she and Jun had met – Jun had been driving them all crazy that year with plans to re-decorate his old apartment. Aiba remembers her seeming very polite and reserved, petite and clean-looking. She was serious about her work, and matched Jun's iron stubbornness with good humour and flexibility. They had matched each other well - had, Aiba echoes in his head. The 'had' still felt startling, somehow.

"I don't know if I'll stay here long." Jun continues unpacking while Aiba wanders over to the balcony window to check out the view. The sky is already dark, it's well-past ten. Lights brighten up the city in tiny sparks of white and large electric splashes of colour. "It's kind of small. I don't know. Maybe it just feels like that after staying at Leader's place all week."

"About Leader –" Aiba begins tentatively, sensing his chance. They're definitely not in public anymore and Jun can't avoid the subject forever – but Jun just grimaces and shakes his head.

"I know you mean well, Masaki." Jun pulls up a kitchen stool, sits down. He looks tired, Aiba thinks. "But it's just not a good idea. Someone's going to get hurt."

"It's not an idea," Aiba says, a bit stung. "They like each other. And they should stop being stupid about it."

Jun looks uncomfortable, but resolute. "I'm not trying to sound cold," he says carefully, "But you need a little more than love to go by." He slides off the stool, rummaging through a floor cupboard, pulling out pots and pans. "You can love each other until you're blue in the face, but that doesn't mean you'll be compatible in a relationship."

"They've known each other for over half their lives," Aiba says, trying to keep things light, "If they didn't work well together, they would have killed each other already."

"That's different." Jun slams a large pot into the sink, filling it up with water, "Arashi isn't a relationship, it's work. It's being together by design, or being together by choice. That's two very different things."

Jun turns off the tap, turns around to face Aiba and leans back against the counter crossing his arms over his chest. "I loved my wife." His voice sounds sort of bitter, but mostly sad. "I thought we had it all together. We worked well together – and we fell apart anyways. What's to say that Leader and Nino won't?"

"They might," Aiba says softly, even though he doesn't quite believe it himself. "But don't they have the right to try anyways?"

He can see Jun wavering a little, so he tries for one final push. "Both of them love Arashi just as much as you do." Jun's expression flickers. "They aren't going to do anything to hurt each other, or us. But right now, neither of them are happy."

Jun doesn't respond for the longest time, and Aiba waits, watches Jun bring the water to a boil and stir the pot of pasta as it cooks, blowing softly on the foam that bubbles too close to the edge.

"Let those idiots do what they want," Jun grumbles finally, and Aiba smiles. He knows that he's won.

They eat dinner perched on stools at the island counter, forks scraping up pasta and chicken and the rich tomato sauce in a companionable silence. Aiba sips at his glass of wine, watching Jun eat out of the corner of his eyes. He wonders if it's okay to ask.

Jun catches his eye, and to Aiba's surprise, he smiles. "Stop acting like I'm going to hit you."

"Sorry," Aiba says, feeling sheepish. It's just like Matsujun to be all prickly about people trying to take care of him. "Can I ask you something, then?"

"Yeah." Jun twirls a forkful of pasta slowly. "Yeah, you can."

"What happened?" Aiba asks hesitatingly. He's been wondering ever since Nino broke the news to him. "Was is because of –" He stops, not knowing how to say it. They haven't mentioned it at all since that day, last year. "When you lost the baby, did that –?"

Jun frowns, pushing his pasta around the plate. "I don't know," he says honestly. "Somehow – it probably did. We just kept fighting after that. When we finally decided to end it, it almost felt like a relief."

"Jun," Aiba says softly. Part of him wants to squeeze Jun into a tight hug – but another part of him doesn't want any new bruises (those wallabies sure could kick, and both Nino and the staff had enjoyed Aiba's pain far more than was good or healthy).

He settles for a hand on Jun's knee. Jun looks down at it in mild surprise, but lets it be.

"Things are going to be okay," Jun says, and he sounds convincing. He stands up to start clearing away their plates and Aiba rises to help, but Jun pushes him back down into his stool.

"You cooked, I'll do dishes," Aiba protests.

"I'll take care of it," Jun says firmly, "I need you to unpack that box over there." He points at what looks to Aiba like a completely random, small cardboard box buried under three others in a corner of the living room.

It's totally a distraction technique, and Aiba knows it, but he goes with it anyways.

He's so very lucky, he thinks, insides warm as he rips off the tape sealing the box and pulling out stacks of soft white bath towels as slowly as he can manage. He sneaks looks back towards the kitchen every now and then to watch Jun carefully lighting the candles on his tiny birthday cake, his tired face softened by the flickering glow.

*

Jun's apartment is dark when Sho lets himself in with the key Jun gave him, careful not to make too much noise. He can hear soft breathing from the direction of the living room, and he toes his shoes off quietly. He hadn't thought he'd be this late, but the producer had wanted to meet with him about the segment on the upcoming ecology summit, and then some of the crew had invited him out for drinks.

He checks the time on Jun's stove as he pads carefully around the stacked cardboard boxes and into the kitchen; it's just after two now.

"Hey," Jun says from behind Sho, surprising him. Jun has a soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he clearly just climbed out of bed. He flicks on the light above the stove and the kitchen is bathed in soft yellow light. Sho can see that Jun is only wearing an old t-shirt and his boxers. His hair is all sleep-ruffled and he's got his glasses on. "Aiba's still sleeping. Hungry?"

"A little," Sho admits. Jun starts to pull out containers from the fridge. "Did you guys have fun?"

"Yeah." Jun squints at the microwave buttons while Sho takes off his coat, going back into the hallway to drape it over his bags. In the dim light spilling out of the kitchen, he can see Aiba sprawled on his back across a futon in the middle of the living room floor, covers tucked neatly around his chest, his face turned away from the light. Sho can hear him breathing in the quiet stillness of Jun's living room, like barely audible sighs.

"You get to sleep in the middle now, by the way," Jun informs Sho as he comes back into the kitchen, setting a plate of steaming pasta on the counter. "I'm not his personal stuffed animal."

Sho rolls back his cuffs, trying to avoid getting the sauce on his white dress shirt. "You only have one futon?"

Jun shrugs. "Sorry. We probably should have bunked at Aiba's place, but I'm closer to the Yamanote Line and we'll need to make an early start."

"I don't mind," Sho says around a mouthful of pasta. "I didn't get to really see your new place before you kicked me out."

Jun actually laughs at that. "You'll get kicked out again if you hog the covers," he threatens, and heads off towards the bathroom to let Sho finish eating.

Jun shoos Sho out of the kitchen when he comes back to find Sho trying to wash his dishes as quietly as humanly possible. Sho brushes his teeth and folds his clothes neatly, deciding to just forgo digging his pajamas out of his bag in favour of sleeping in his boxers. He's too tired to care, Jun and Aiba won't, and Jun's apartment is warm anyways.

Aiba makes sleepy, vulnerable noises as Sho and Jun maneuver themselves into the futon in the dark living room. Sho gently shoves Aiba into a smaller space, tucking his limbs in closer so Jun can have some room.

"Sho-chan," Aiba mutters sleepily as Sho tries to untangle the blankets from where they're twisting around Aiba's torso. He wraps his arms around Sho's waist as Sho slides down into the sheets, hampering Sho's efforts to get comfortable. "Good night kiss?"

"I'm not your girlfriend," Sho shoves Aiba away, sighing when Aiba bounces back like a spring, butting his head kittenishly against Sho's chin. He gives up and pecks Aiba on the cheek. That seems to please Aiba, he giggles and settles back into his own corner of the futon. Sho can almost hear Jun rolling his eyes from where he's easing himself in on Sho's other side.

"9:00AM ferry, right?" Sho yawns; the futon is soft and the blankets are warm and smell so good. His eyelids feel heavy. He watches Jun set the alarm on his cellphone.

"Sorry," Jun sets his phone on the floor next to the futon. "You're not going to get much of a rest, are you?"

Sho hums, letting his head sink into the pillow. Like any of them weren't used to going on no sleep. Though he had to admit, it was a lot easier when he was twenty-five. "I can sleep at Ohno's place when we get there."

Jun settles in next to him, tugging over his share of the covers. "Sleep tight."

Sho lets the dark silence of Jun's apartment sink in around him, his breathing evening out. It's been a long, busy day and it's all too easy to just let sleep overtake him instantly.

"Hey," Aiba says drowsily. "I wonder what Captain and Nino are doing right now."

No one gets any sleep for awhile after that.

*

Ohno feels stupidly happy, squished up next to Nino on his sofa. The wind is still howling fiercely outside even though the rain stopped long ago, the smack of the gusts against his porch doors a strange, almost soothing rhythm. The kittens are curled up together, overlapping each other in their bed by the television, sleeping soundly – although Shizuka looks up sleepily at the screen when the Zero theme plays. Sho is her Favourite.

It still feels ridiculous and strange and a bit like someone else's life. But it feels good, too, it feels real. He's full of ramen and beer, with that happy, sinking feeling of sleep setting in, curled up against Nino on the worn softness of his couch. Nino is petting his hair absentmindedly. Neither of them are really watching the news; Ohno watches every week, but he can never seem to remember what the stories were or what anyone said. He just watches Sho. His tie is striped today, Ohno notes, skinny lines of red against thick lines of black.

Nino seemed to like watching Zero so he could crack jokes about how Sho-chan looked constipated when the camera caught him on a side-shot, or twisting all of Sho's lines so they sounded vaguely dirty.

Before the broadcast is even half-over, they're both leaning into each other, wheezing with laughter. Nino coughs, chuckling to himself, his head in Ohno's lap. He looks so relaxed, so bright and tired and open and Ohno wants to kiss him.

"Hey," Ohno says, as his own chuckles die out, and he's suddenly overwhelmed with the idea that he can, he can, so he leans down and kisses Nino softly on the lips.

Nino answers the kiss, his lips sliding against Ohno, feather-light, barely-there kisses that leave Ohno dizzy. He pulls Nino closer to him, trying to get him to stop teasing.

"It's surprising, given the economic situation that these levels are dipping," Murao-san's voice blares suddenly from the television. "What do you think, Sakurai-kun?"

"Ah. Sho-chan's back on." Ohno hadn't even noticed that the commercial break had ended. "Should we turn the TV off?" He doesn't make a move to look for the remote, though, too impatient with Nino's lips on his neck, his cold fingers slipping under the hem of Ohno's shirt.

"Nah. Just think of Sho's trauma-face," Nino rucked up Ohno's t-shirt up under his armpits so he could lick at his torso, "He'll never be able to look into a camera again without crying."

"Well, the Nikkei is still rising strongly," says Sho seriously, while Nino busily unzips Ohno's fly. "So hopefully we'll being seeing some results of that soon across the markets."

Ohno digs out the remote from the couch cushions it had gotten wedged between, aiming it at the television while Nino coaxes him to lift his hips enough to slide his pants down. The room seems somehow silent, bigger when the screen goes blank. Suddenly it's like the actual situation filters into Ohno's mind and there's Nino kneeling in front of him, his shirt missing and his hair sticking up in four directions.

"Oh-chan," Nino murmurs, and curls his hand around the back of Ohno's head, kissing him on the lips again, again. It's easy to kiss Nino, even when they were young and there was that nervous, niggling uncertainty about how much of a joke kisses between them were at all. It feels more amazing than Ohno could have ever thought, too, to have Nino's mouth moving against his, slow and deliberate, Nino's short fingers tangling into his hair, the scratch of Nino's stubbly chin against his face.

Nino rolls his palm against the front of Ohno's boxers and Ohno gasps, feeling himself harden under Nino's touch; it's like a shock to his foundations. Nino laughs at him, but it's a bit stiff – he looks determined, but somehow scared, and Ohno catches his hand as he moves to massage Ohno through his underwear. He's already breathing harshly, it's like everything is coming to him in pieces.

"Not in here." Shizuka is now staring accusingly at Ohno from the kitten-pile on the cushion in the corner; Ohno would feel guilty about turning off Zero, but Sho was coming over soon anyways.

"Okay," Nino says. He licks his lips and laughs again, nervous chuckles. "All right."

There's no urgency to it, once they shuffle into the bedroom. Ohno's bed is huge and extremely comfortable, and takes up most of the tiny room. Ohno knows the fast, heated tension of sex, the quick excitement of skin pressing hot against his and the frantic movements - and he remembers the slow times, sweet and thick-aired, almost like a dream. This feels somehow in between, so absurdly ordinary. He's let his mind drift to thoughts about Nino more than he'd care to admit over the past three years, sometimes at night, when the island's black and solemn quiet presses in on the edges of his mind, remembers the heat of Nino in his lap, remembers being scared and turned-on and so confused.

Ohno takes off his shirt and sits on the bed cross-legged. "We're going to have sex," he says aloud, wonderingly, probably kind of stupidly, because it just suddenly occurs to them that Nino is in his room, they are both half-naked and this is actually going to happen.

Nino makes a strangled noise, re-doing his belt. "I need a smoke." He stalks outside of the bedroom and Ohno sits still, a little uncertain. He listens to the kittens mewing as Nino moves through the creaky-floored living room, and the slide of the porch door.

He waits a few minutes, then he goes to find Nino. He can see him through the glass porch door, hunched up at the bottom of the steps, wrapped in Jun's electric blue windbreaker.

"You're going to catch a cold and die," Nino says, as Ohno slides down to sit next to him on the porch steps, leaning into Nino. "And then Sho will drown me in the ocean. Go put a shirt on."

Ohno shrugs, he can't help but shiver at the howling wind off the ocean, the cold sand against his feet. Nino clicks his tongue and wraps half of the windbreaker around Ohno. It's warm in the crook of Nino's arm and Ohno drowses a little, watching the red-hot tip of Nino's cigarette burn off ash against the dark sky.

He nuzzles the cold tip of his nose into Nino's chest, just above his heart and feels Nino stiffen up a little again. "Too much?" he asks. This feels so awkward to talk about. They never really talk about anything, which is partly how they got into this mess to begin with.

Nino shakes his head. "I spent so many years trying to tell myself this was impossible." He tucks his head on top of Ohno's, drawing the windbreaker a little tighter around both of them. "I guess I still can't let myself believe it – that this could work."

Ohno gets that; he's known Nino forever and he's loved him for nearly as long, but he can't get this straight in his head. It feels too easy, and he knows it won't be. They can't always be like this, alone on their own little island. Soon, Nino is going to have to go home and the distance is going to force them to define exactly what this all means.

"What do you want?" Nino asks, his voice barely above a scratchy whisper on the wind. He stubs out his cigarette in the sand beside the porch steps. His eyes are serious. "Is this just a one-off, or. I just."

Ohno knows exactly what he wants. He's known since he came home that one chilly day at the end of August two summers ago, ever since he came home to find Nino curled up peacefully on his couch, like he belonged there.

"I want you to re-paint the door in the spring," Ohno finally says, lamely. He doesn't look at Nino. "I don't want the colour to fade."

Nino's hand finds him under the jacket, squeezes tightly and holds on. Ohno chances a look up, and Nino is smiling again, for real this time. "Let's go back inside."

Ohno nods, and doesn't let go of Nino's hand until they're back inside the bright warmth of the house.

FIN

cross-posted to kotobayori