Baka6, Like a Million Thorns Along My Side

Title: Like a Million Thorns Along My Side [Juri/Shintarou(Jinguji)]
Rating/Warnings: R, Shintarou’s 16 and Jinguji is in his body so it’s kind of…fucked up. I guess that’s dubious consent too.
Summary: Juri knows he’s a terrible person, but it’s impossible not to take what Jinguji is offering when it’s Shintarou that he’s offering.
AN: so this is the badwrong ouchy other side of the Body to Body fic, in which Hasshi sneezes on Shintarou and Jinguji and they switch bodies for a couple days. In the background was Juri, who clearly is in love with Shintarou even though Shintarou is explicitly not ready for that, and so all this stuff happened. I’m sorry ._____. Title from the Royal Pirate’s song “Drawing the Line.”

Like a Million Thorns Along My Side

It took Juri approximately half a second to realize that it wasn’t Shintarou standing next to him at practice. Sure it looked like Shintarou, but he stood wrong and moved wrong and smiled wrong and also looked super super excited about practice in a way that Shintarou hadn’t since he was about twelve and a half.

“And I get to sing, right?” not-Shintarou gushes. He coughs when Juri raises an eyebrow at him. “I mean, of course I do, no big deal, I do that shit aaaaall the time.”

He could have probably guessed it anyway, but when Jinguji shows up, Juri is pretty sure he knows who got switched. When Shintarou sends that last, frustrated look over his shoulder as the choreographer shoos him off, Juri is sure. Only Shintarou can look so perfectly put-out about anything.

“Hi, Jinguji-kun,” Juri says to the fake Shintarou. Jinguji splutters a lot of denials, but Juri waits him out until Jinguji sheepishly mutters that Hashimoto sneezed on them.

“But I’m not switching back!” Jinguji blurts. “I mean, not yet. Don’t tell, please? I just…just for a little bit…”

“It’s not like I can switch you back,” Juri grumbles. Jinguji gives a whoop of excitement.

Juri just tries to ignore the whole thing for the rest of the day. It’s weird, but around this place everything is weird at least some of the time, even when Hashimoto doesn’t need to be medicated. Juri tries to focus on himself at practice and ignore the slight irritation of Jinguji’s somewhat terrible Shintarou impression in his symmetry position.

Other people notice the difference as well, and not just during dance practice. The usual grabby-handed juniors notice right away that Shintarou is not putting up his usual fight today. Jesse throws an arm around Shintarou’s shoulders and blinks in surprise when Shintarou snuggles into it. Taiga makes a joke that would normally turn Shintarou bright pink, and all Shintarou does is reach over to twirl a strand of Taiga’s hair around his finger and say he thinks Taiga should prove it if he’s not all talk.

“Shin-chan,” Yasui purrs, popping up suddenly, as he does. “Would you come over here and help me with these costumes a second?”

Juri excuses himself for a minute, telling himself he just needs a break and it’s none of his business. In the bathroom he splashes his face with cold water and examines his reflection, wondering if anybody else can see how jealousy is practically oozing out of his pores.

Because he’s been working on getting Shintarou not to run for the hills if he so much as reaches for Shintarou’s hand for what feels like a hundred years. Juri doesn’t mind that much usually, he’s known since they were just dumb kids that having a crush on Shintarou was going to be an uphill road the whole way. Normally he can just close his eyes and count to ten and promise himself it’ll be easier someday if he can just be patient.

“It isn’t even Shintarou in there,” he tells his reflection. “Don’t be a jealous idiot.” But it’s Shintarou’s body all right, and that’s enough to make it feel awful, like the universe is straight up making fun of his pathetic feelings for his best friend.

It’ll probably make everything worse, but he goes to find Shintarou anyway. Shintarou is digging around in Jinguji’s bag, and the expression of distaste he’s got Jinguji’s face screwed up into, plus the terrible pants he’s wearing, are at least entertaining. Shintarou whines like a total baby when Juri fills him in on what his body is up to, and that makes Juri feel better too, because sometimes he’s a bit of a jerk.

“I’m sure he can’t blow all your firsts in a single day,” Juri soothes, which only makes Shintarou wail harder. “You are gonna change back soon, right?” Please, he adds silently, please let it be soon.

“Hashimoto-kun said we have to both want to, and Jinguji is probably never going to want to!” Shintarou says. He looks at his feet. “I’m not even sure I want to. Today was fun, you know? Nobody cared what I did or dressed me up like a weirdo or said I wasn’t fan-servicing right. Even the creepy photographer left me alone.”

Juri can’t help feel a little bad for Shintarou, because the creepy photographer does like him way too much, but it’s totally overpowered by how much he already misses having Shintarou beside him. Words are coming out of his mouth, and he hopes they’re the right ones, because he isn’t even sure which one of them needs more reassurance at this moment.

He needs the hug way more than Shintarou, that’s for sure. Shintarou doesn’t fight him on it today, and Juri’s panic eases a little, even if the body he’s hugging is too skinny and too short and all wrong. He hugs Shintarou harder, hard enough to feel Shintarou buried inside there.

“Just hurry up and fix it,” he begs, eyes squeezed shut and wishing it more than he wishes for solos or screen time or a unit or anything.

It helps for a little bit, most of the rest of the day. But then Juri stumbles over Yasui casually pressing Jinguji into the lockers, and the look of interest on Shintarou’s face is more than Juri can stand.

“Get out of here, shoo,” Juri shoves Yasui aside casually, trying to pretend he’s just mad that they’re blocking his locker. It might even be working, he can act decently. “Go on, go rub up against Hokuto or somebody at least half your age, geez.”

“Spoilsport,” Yasui murmurs, giving Jinguji’s hip a last pinch as he lets himself be pushed away. He tosses a look over his shoulder that says he’s just marking his place in this book for later.

“And you,” Juri says to Jinguji. Jinguji offers him a sheepish smile, T-shirt rumpled in front in a way that makes Juri want to punch the locker. “Don’t go around giving away other people’s firsts. You’re coming home with me tonight, so get Shintarou’s phone and call his mother.”

“Thought you just said I shouldn’t go giving it away?” Jinguji asks, that brat.

“To sleep over, asshole,” Juri says to him. “Nobody in their right mind would believe you were Shintarou, much less his mom. His little sister would tear you to shreds. Never mind about calling, I’ll do it. You probably couldn’t even get that right.”

He gets Jinguji home and into his room with a minimum of fuss, Shintarou’s presence at his house common enough that his mother doesn’t even look up from where she’s bullying Subaru about his math homework at the table.

“Did you boys eat?” she does ask, and Juri says not to get up, he’ll grab something from the kitchen. She’ll definitely know something’s up if they don’t grab anything, given that Shintarou usually eats like he’s been trapped on an island with nothing but coconuts for the last six months.

They end up watching a movie on Juri’s bed together, and apparently Jinguji isn’t used to expending as much energy just existing as Shintarou does, because he falls asleep after they’ve only been sitting there maybe fifteen minutes despite demanding to pick the movie. Juri just rolls his eyes and switches the channel. Jinguji snores a little, which is weird because Shintarou doesn’t, and Juri just ignores him until he starts to feel sleepy himself.

“Hey,” he nudges Jinguji until he stirs. “Wake up. I’m getting a futon out for you.”

“Don’t,” Jinguji mumbles, rolling onto his side and into Juri, throwing a heavy arm across Juri’s chest. “Lemme stay. Feels good next to you.”

Juri stares at the ceiling and tries to will himself to be a half-decent friend, to not enjoy this because it’s creepy and not okay that he’s starting to get hard with Shintarou so close. None of this is okay at all. The other part of him is telling him to shut the fuck up and enjoy it because who knows how long it will be before it happens again, if it ever does.

To make everything worse, Jinguji opens his eyes and looks at him from too close, those eyes dark with sleep and so familiar, looking right at Juri and making his heart skip beats like when the camera’s squarely on him and fangirls scream.

“He likes you, huh?” Jinguji says. “His body really likes you. You guys doing it?”

“No!” Juri snaps with more heat that he means to. The fuck does Jinguji mean, Shintarou’s body likes him? The rush of hope, followed by a wave of frustration about getting his hopes up, just makes Juri prickle with irritation.

“If you want to, it’s okay,” Jinguji adds, yawning a little. “I wouldn’t mind.”

There’s a second where Juri can’t comprehend what Jinguji is offering him, like his brain is trying to protect him from himself, and then it’s the only thing he can think about. How often has he fantasized about Shintarou next to him, underneath him, staring at him with those big brown eyes full of want instead of discomfort and uncertainty. Jinguji is looking at him with those same eyes but he knows exactly what he’s asking for, and it would be so easy to pretend.

Juri knows he’s an asshole for even thinking about it, but he really wants to pretend.

“I’m kinda hard, actually,” Jinguji says, because it’s like he just can’t shut his mouth until he’s dug the biggest hole possible. “So if you could do something…I don’t think I can sleep like this.”

It’s more than Juri can take. He turns his head and Shintarou’s mouth is right there, so Juri kisses him. It turns rough and possessive after only a second, the kiss that Juri’s been holding back every time he sees Shintarou for what feels like ages. Jinguji melts into it easily and that makes it all the hotter, Juri tugging Jinguji closer, tugging Shintarou closer, until they’re pressed flush together the whole way down. Jinguji’s hands are on Juri’s back, digging into his skin a little, and Juri is licking his way into Jinguji’s mouth without really thinking about what he’s doing.

He can’t think about anything except how good Shintarou feels against him, how it’s just as good as he’s been imagining, maybe better. Jinguji licks shyly at Juri’s lower lip and this is definitely better than Juri’s been imagining it would be.

Jinguji is hard, like he said he was, and when it presses against Juri’s hip, all the blood rushes south from Juri’s head, taking most of the guilt along with it. Juri slides his hand from Jinguji’s hip to palm that hardness, moaning quietly himself at how it fills his hand, hot even through Jinguji’s pants. Juri’s seen Shintarou naked a thousand times, in the locker room or changing in hotels, but it’s nothing compared to how Shintarou feels in his hand, pushing up against his palm.

“Please,” Jinguji begs in Shintarou’s voice, low and needy. “Juri-kun, please.”

“Don’t talk,” Juri orders, because that makes it harder to pretend he’s not doing something reasonably awful. “Just shut up.”

Jinguji shuts up. He lets Juri roll him onto his back easily and doesn’t struggle when Juri unbuttons his jeans and pulls them off. He hesitates a moment before reaching for Shintarou’s boxers, but really, it’s too late to back down now, given the way Jinguji is squirming and curling his fingers in Juri’s sheets.

It’s really not any different than Shintarou getting himself off, Juri tells himself as he slides his hand into Shintarou’s boxers and touches him without anything in the way. Jinguji pushes up into Juri’s grip so hard that Juri could just make a fist around him and Jinguji would do all the work himself. Juri is surprised how good it feels when he’s not being touched himself, just the way that Jinguji shakes and makes small noises he can’t quite swallow, all for him. Maybe it would be different if it were somebody besides Shintarou underneath him, or maybe it will be when it is Shintarou, but right now all Juri can think about is how good it is.

How it’s not enough either.

He tugs the boxers down out of the way, enough that he can see his hand wrapped around Shintarou’s cock, flushed and hard. The tip is damp, and Juri wants to taste it, wants to wrap lips around Shintarou’s cock and swallow as much of it as he can. There’s nothing stopping him doing it, so he rolls over and slides down until he can do exactly that. Jinguji makes a strangled noise of surprise above him, and another when Juri sucks on the top half his cock hard enough to make his cheeks hollow.

Fingers touch Juri’s hair, tentatively and then more firmly, and Juri closes his eyes and tries to just think about Shintarou’s cock in his mouth, the way the skin of Shintarou’s hip is so hot underneath his free hand. He digs his fingers in deeper when Jinguji bucks a little underneath him. Juri concentrates on the feel of Shintarou against his tongue, how the taste is salty and a little bitter, how his jaw starts to ache after only a minute, how Jinguji shudders when he twists his grip just so.

“Juri-kun,” Jinguji whispers, trying to warn him without breaking Juri’s no talking rule, but Juri ignores him. Jinguji twists his fingers in Juri’s hair, hips shaking as he tries to hold back. He only lasts a bit longer before he’s coming, falling apart under Juri’s hands and mouth before going slack against the mattress. Juri lifts his head to see and Jinguji’s eyes are closed, chest heaving and tinted pink from his throat down to his nipples.

Juri peels his hand away and winces as he notices that he’s left little marks on Shintarou’s hip from digging his fingers in too tightly. Then suddenly the guilt turns into possession. So what if Shintarou does know that Juri was here? Juri wants him to know exactly that, he thinks darkly, and before he knows what he’s doing, Juri is pressing his mouth to Shintarou’s belly, just beside the dark trail of hair, and worrying another mark into that tanned skin with his teeth.

“What?” Jinguji asks fuzzily. “What’re you…oh…” He shivers when Juri starts on another one, tugs on Juri’s hair with fingers still clumsy from orgasm. “Oh.”

When there’s a small constellation of hickeys across Shintarou’s belly, Juri crawls up to kiss Jinguji instead, feeling like his skin isn’t big enough to hold him. The kisses are open-mouthed and messy, neither one of them able to catch their breath the whole way, Juri feeling like his blood is on fire, his thoughts a confused tangle of Shintarou’s skin against his, Shintarou’s fingers digging into his shoulders.

When Jinguji slides a hand between them and into Juri’s boxers, Juri tears his mouth away suddenly.

“Don’t touch me,” he pants, flopping onto his back.

“But,” Jinguji starts, frowning. “Don’t you want—”

“Don’t touch me,” Juri snaps more harshly. He can’t stand the thought of Jinguji doing that with Shintarou’s body, Shintarou’s hands, even if he’s the one Jinguji is doing the stuff to.

He closes his eyes tight and shoves his boxers down to wrap a hand around himself, jerking himself off quick and rough. He thinks about Shintarou’s skin and Shintarou’s cock and Shintarou staring at him with those brown eyes and Shintarou actually behind them, and then he’s coming over his hand and stomach in hot pulses, spine arching with the force of it.

By the time he’s starting to catch his breath, Juri’s already starting to feel lonely and awful, angry with himself for taking advantage of both Shintarou and Jinguji this way. No wonder Shintarou looks like he’s about to bolt every time Juri gets close.

“Juri-kun?” Jinguji asks, voice soft and unsure. “Maybe this is weird but…it felt good, you doing that to me. Not kind of weird like when other people were touching me today.”

Juri turns his head, frowning at Jinguji. “What does that mean?”

“Like the first time or two you fool around with somebody, it feels weird right? Until you get used to each other.” Jinguji shrugs. “It didn’t feel like that. I guess his body is pretty used to you already.”

Juri’s too tired to work any of it out, not the shit that Jinguji is saying to him or the way his heart is twisting in his chest, none of it. “Just go to sleep,” he orders, standing up so he can yank the blankets back and crawl under them. He rolls onto his side so that his back is to Jinguji, listening to the rustle of Jinguji fumbling under the blankets himself.

He should protest when Jinguji slides close enough to throw an arm over his waist, but Juri doesn’t, because he’s in love with his stupid best friend and the kind of asshole who has sex with his best friend’s body just because he can, and if the universe is making fun of his stupid, stupid crush, then it’s only what he deserves.

“You’re waiting too, huh?” Jinguji asks quietly. “Being patient sucks. But if we keep on waiting, it’ll turn out okay, right? Do you think it will?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Juri tells him, and Jinguji is quiet after that.

The next day is hardly any better than the day before was, but Juri just powers through, doing his best to ignore everybody and not get yelled at too much. Jinguji sneaks off during an afternoon break, and Juri tries not to get his hopes up too much.

But then Shintarou is coming through the door, really Shintarou, and Juri is on his feet before he even realizes what he’s doing. He grabs him by the shoulders to keep from hugging him desperately, staring into Shintarou’s eyes like he can see right through them into his soul. Shintarou grins back, probably the only person more relieved than Juri is. Jesse wolf whistles for them to get a room behind them, and Juri feels so happy he doesn’t even want to punch Jesse in the face.

Still, Juri doesn’t bother trying to keep the secret of what he did last night. As soon as Shintarou asks, Juri drops a hand to fit his hand over Shintarou’s hip, pressing down on the first of the bruises. Shintarou doesn’t seem that upset, though, which Juri supposes is something. He tries not to hope that it means anything, although as usual he’s not that successful.

Over the next few days, the voice that Juri hears in his head every time he watches Shintarou is weirdly Jinguji’s, asking him if it’ll turn out okay if they just keep on waiting, right? He catches Shintarou a few days later, looking in the mirror with his T-shirt pulled up, the marks already fading and Juri feels sad to see them go.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shintarou asks, turning to look at Juri. His face is serious, not mad or weirded out, and Juri catches a glimpse of the adult that Shintarou’s going to be someday, maybe someday soon.

Juri shakes his head. “You know, right? How I feel. It’s…for now I can just be next to you. You being my best friend is the most important thing, for now.”

“Okay.” Shintarou takes him at his word always, even when Juri says dumb stuff like that, and maybe that’s one of the biggest reasons that Juri’s been in love with him forever.

The next time he sleeps over, Shintarou tells Juri not to bother with the futon, and Juri blinks at him in surprise. His heart beats a little louder than usual, and Juri tells it to shut up.

“I mean,” Shintarou fidgets, sitting on the far side of Juri’s bed, “it’s a hassle, right? I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“I don’t mind,” Juri says, quickly enough that Shintarou gives a knowing chuckle. He looks a little guilty sometimes lately when he catches Juri looking at him, and Juri wonders if the switch made him understand, somehow, how hard it is for Juri to hold back when they’re near each other. Juri doesn’t bring it up, though; talking about it doesn’t help anything.

Right this second, he’s focused on enjoying sliding into bed next to Shintarou for the first time (that counts), and he hopes his grin doesn’t look creepy because he can’t wipe it off his face. Shintarou’s answering smile is small and a little eye-roll-y, but it’s a smile.

“Good night,” Juri says. It shouldn’t feel different than when he calls it over the edge of his bed down to the futon on the floor, but it does. This way he can watch Shintarou’s eyes flutter shut, the way his chest rises and falls steadily as he relaxes.

Juri smiles to himself when Shintarou’s breath evens out almost immediately, because Shintarou never falls asleep that fast and the obvious way he fakes it is pretty cute. He’s just guessing at what it’s about, but he knows he’s got it right when he reaches over to stroke Shintarou’s hair and Shintarou all but leans into the touch.

Juri edges just a little closer, so his arm is more comfortable, he tells himself, and brushes Shintarou’s hair out of his face, smoothing it back. It’s not everything he wants, but it’s not nothing either.

“Is it gonna turn out okay, if I keep waiting?” Juri asks Shintarou, voice so quiet, fingers still moving gently against his hair.

Shintarou doesn’t answer, chest rising and falling steadily.