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The television studio is buzzing with energy. A makeup artist powders Jun’s nose one last time and gives him an approving smile, which he returns nervously. Sho does his own inspection of Jun’s appearance, re-adjusting his tie with a frown. Jun resists swatting his hand away, for his own pride’s sake.
“You’ll do fine,” Sho says firmly, patting the tie with certainty. Jun notes that the tie is now off-center with mild irritation. Actually, he can’t tell if he’s irritated about the tie or the fact that he has to appear on Sho’s goddamn news program. The few hours worth of meetings that afternoon have merely left him feeling inadequate and uneducated.
“Just letting you know,” Jun says with a genial smile that is strictly for appearance’s sake, “that visiting a fellow member at his solo work is very out of character for us.” He gives a quick glance and close-lipped nod to the admin girls twittering in the corner, who all make sharp intakes of breath. Sho follows suit and they resume whispering excitedly among themselves. “Seriously, you’re hovering. It’s bad for my image.”
Sho frowns. “My image, you mean. I’m the one who’s going to be on nationally televised news with barely any prep, remember?” Jun is about to come back with something about how it’s all Sho’s fault, and if he hadn’t force fed him a piece of that suspicious cake left in the green room they wouldn’t be in this mess, but the director interrupts.
“Sakurai-san, five minutes till we go live,” he says.
Jun nods. “Be right there,” he replies. He is surprised he didn’t choke on his words from how nervous he’s feeling. Now would be as a good a time as ever for the return of his meditative breathing exercises, he thinks frantically. Or would that be weird for Sho to do?
“Break a leg,” Sho says, and for a moment Jun is jolted by the intense stare he’s given by himself. Does he always look at Sho-kun like that? Jun shakes the thought away; now is not the time.
“Better get some crutches ready,” he says as he walks onto the set to line up alongside Murao-san and Yamagishi-san.
It all began when Jun and Sho found themselves in the green room alone together with a big, white, birthday party-sized cake on the coffee table.
“I think it’s looking at me,” Sho hunched down to examine it with intense concentration.
Jun looked up from the drama script he was skimming through. “I’m pretty sure that you’re the one looking. Didn’t you have ramen half an hour ago?”
“Fine, we’re staring each other down. Also, it’s a completely different palate,” Sho said with a derisive glance. He picked up one of the plates and knives placed beside it.
“You’re eating the cake,” Jun said disbelievingly.
“I am eating the cake,” Sho confirmed, slicing through the top layer of whipped cream with satisfaction. “And you should have a slice too.”
Jun eyed the thickness of the now exposed cream warily. “I’m restricting my sugars right now. How do you know that cake’s even meant for us?”
Sho did an impressive imitation of Jun as he rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t say that it’s not for us. Just a bite? I’m pretty sure your low blood sugar levels are putting you on edge.”
It turned out that Jun was still weak to Sho’s goading persistence, as he cut a piece of cake with the side of a fork and popped it in his mouth.
“This is a waste of calories,” he said glumly, watching Sho enjoy his own mouthful of solidified sugar. Oh well. It was worth seeing him so pleased.
Later Sho will tell the tale of the most intense food coma he had ever experienced. All Jun will remember is desperately needing to take a nap, just for five minutes.
It takes an unexpectedly short amount of time to adjust to being in someone else’s body. Honestly, it’s not like there’s much difference in their height to throw him off, and there aren’t any big surprises with another man’s anatomy. It’s just the little things, really.
“It only takes me ten minutes to do my hair! Just ten!” Jun says ecstatically to Sho, who looks ready to fall asleep in the makeup chair.
“Yes, it does, and I am missing it already,” he groans as he leans back. Thoroughly read newspapers are scattered around him haphazardly. The stylist forces Sho to sit back upright, and she attacks the back of his head with heavy duty hairspray.
Jun’s spring in his step quickly disappears when he realises exactly how much more talking Sho has to do, as he fumbles his line for the fourth time. Not to mention the number of times the director yells cut and asks for a better delivery. Thank god it’s all on Sho-kun’s head.
His mood only worsens when he attempts his stretches before sleeping and finds himself unable to even touch his ankles. Giving up, he tries to get comfortable in Sho’s bed. At least it’s vaguely tidy and liveable now. After Jun had unlocked the door and been greeted by piles of clutter and unfolded clothes, he had spent the better part of the evening filling garbage bags and laundry baskets with the random objects left floating around and filling up the laundry machine to do a load in the morning.
Then he realises that Sho’s pillow feels too soft and all wrong, and Jun prepares himself for a very sleepless night.
“…And goodnight.” The three newscasters bow as the camera pans out. Jun lets out a sigh he feels he’d been holding the entire show. Crisis averted.
“You did it,” Sho says as he comes up to him, eyes filled with relief.
“Was there any other alternative?” Jun asks. Out of the corner of his eye he spots their managers heading over. “Hey, can I come over tonight?” he asks quickly.
Sho looks confused. “Sure, it’s your place. Why?”
“I need to pick up my pillow. It was a nightmare trying to get to sleep last night,” Jun says.
An expression passes over Sho’s face that is gone in an instant; before Jun has time to figure out what it means Sho is saying, “Oh, is that all? Sure, see you in about an hour,” and slipping away to talk to his manager.
“Okay, this is weird,” Jun says as he stares up at himself looking very flustered. He swears they were just having a couple of beers a minute ago. Post-crisis drinks do not normally end in being straddled by someone with an expression that is a mix of determined, embarrassed and grumpy. Pushed down onto the hard wooden floor, with Sho’s hands placed on either side of his face, Jun wishes his pillow wasn’t on the sofa out of arm’s reach. They’ve been like this for a while now, and Sho’s body heat after a few drinks is almost too much.
He watches Sho’s cheeks grow pink, and feels a little satisfied that his complexion lets Sho’s self-consciousness show through for once.
“Don’t tell me I’m the only one who can’t take being in each other’s body any longer.” Sho demands.
Jun raises an eyebrow. At the back of his mind he realises that the effect probably isn’t as powerful as it usually would be. “Should I be offended?” He tries to make up for it by using the deeper, huskier tones of Sho’s voice.
Sho stammers, “What? No, you know that’s not what I— Don’t be an ass, Jun,” he groans, falling onto his elbows and hiding his face in the crook of Jun’s shoulder.
Jun rests his head on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. He catches the barely-there scent of his cologne in Sho’s hair. He can’t stop the smile growing on his face.
“This is really weird, Sho-kun,” he says with a laugh. He moves away to be able to take in Sho’s familiar expressions on his own face; frustrated, unsure, hopeful.
Jun moves in and gives Sho a chaste kiss, eyes fluttering shut. It feels like they’re there for an eternity, and he thinks he’d be more than happy to stay a little longer than that, when Jun opens his eyes and finds himself looking down at Sho. Fringe in his eyes and lips moist, Sho looks back up at him with gradual realisation.
“We’re back,” Sho says slowly.
Jun smiles, “Guess so.” Taking in Sho’s disheveled hair and the slight sheen on his skin, he decides that he definitely enjoys this view a lot more.
Sho asks, “I don’t think it’ll be too weird if we do that one more time?”
Jun pretends to consider. “Not too weird.”