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What Could Happen
What Could Happen
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: G
Word Count: 413
Summary: There's a campfire on the beach.
They're at the beach; there's a bonfire. It's huge, reaching up and up and the smoke just goes even higher, so even if Ohno tilts his head back, it seems endless, right up to the stars. His back would be cold, except Nino's sitting behind him, arms around his waist, lazy lazy. Sho brought a blanket; Nino stole it, and it's wrapped around them, streaks of blue and white that flicker with shadows as the fire dances not four feet away.
Jun is telling ghost stories. Ohno isn't listening, but he likes to watch Jun's face move--Jun is very subtle, sometimes, when he's not trying so hard, and it's a story that he's told countless times before. Ohno can tell, because of the way Jun's hands move, practiced gestures that convey something about an old woman and her dead lover who rises from his grave every evening.
He's sleepy. They swam for hours, he and Nino, racing away from Aiba, who seemed to think dodgeball was a good idea; now their skin smells like the sea, and there's sand all up their legs and in their swim trunks, but it's not itchy anymore, not since the fire dried them.
Ohno stretches one foot towards the fire, but pulls it back when Sho warns him: Satoshi, be careful, you'll singe yourself. He snuggles closer to Nino, closes his eyes and just breathes. The fire crackles in his ears, and Jun's voice is flowing, and Ohno really doesn't care about the words, just the quality of it. He wishes he could paint Jun's voice. In his mind, he creates colors, lets them seep into each other, against each other, in a pattern that Jun inspires.
He doesn't want to move when Nino shakes him awake--or tries, anyway. Ohno is hard to wake at the best of times, but Arashi has gotten used to it, and they coax him from his slumber with gentle hands and teasing voices, helping him to stand, helping him to walk to their tent, helping him to crawl inside. Sho is laughing, back with Aiba, doing something with the fire--putting it out maybe? Ohno's too drowsy to care, much. The sleeping bags are there, stretched out like coccoons, ready to hold them in sleep. Ohno crawls most of the way in one; Nino tucks him in, a little smile on his face, patting Ohno's cheek without any words at all.
originally written July 12 2006
Pairing: Ohmiya
Rating: G
Word Count: 413
Summary: There's a campfire on the beach.
They're at the beach; there's a bonfire. It's huge, reaching up and up and the smoke just goes even higher, so even if Ohno tilts his head back, it seems endless, right up to the stars. His back would be cold, except Nino's sitting behind him, arms around his waist, lazy lazy. Sho brought a blanket; Nino stole it, and it's wrapped around them, streaks of blue and white that flicker with shadows as the fire dances not four feet away.
Jun is telling ghost stories. Ohno isn't listening, but he likes to watch Jun's face move--Jun is very subtle, sometimes, when he's not trying so hard, and it's a story that he's told countless times before. Ohno can tell, because of the way Jun's hands move, practiced gestures that convey something about an old woman and her dead lover who rises from his grave every evening.
He's sleepy. They swam for hours, he and Nino, racing away from Aiba, who seemed to think dodgeball was a good idea; now their skin smells like the sea, and there's sand all up their legs and in their swim trunks, but it's not itchy anymore, not since the fire dried them.
Ohno stretches one foot towards the fire, but pulls it back when Sho warns him: Satoshi, be careful, you'll singe yourself. He snuggles closer to Nino, closes his eyes and just breathes. The fire crackles in his ears, and Jun's voice is flowing, and Ohno really doesn't care about the words, just the quality of it. He wishes he could paint Jun's voice. In his mind, he creates colors, lets them seep into each other, against each other, in a pattern that Jun inspires.
He doesn't want to move when Nino shakes him awake--or tries, anyway. Ohno is hard to wake at the best of times, but Arashi has gotten used to it, and they coax him from his slumber with gentle hands and teasing voices, helping him to stand, helping him to walk to their tent, helping him to crawl inside. Sho is laughing, back with Aiba, doing something with the fire--putting it out maybe? Ohno's too drowsy to care, much. The sleeping bags are there, stretched out like coccoons, ready to hold them in sleep. Ohno crawls most of the way in one; Nino tucks him in, a little smile on his face, patting Ohno's cheek without any words at all.
originally written July 12 2006