Arashi ohno dating
*~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* One day his doorbell rings. The little animal is all round curves and soft, tufty fur. No way could it have rung the doorbell on its own... Nino crouches down hesitantly, and the little panda peeks up at him with wide, shiny eyes.
It’s after one such session that Nino finds himself laying on his couch, with the panda a warm and comfortable weight on his chest. He really does want to go, but then there’s Pan-chan to consider… “But yeah, I’m in.” She’s already so sleepy, he doubts she’ll be up to much mischief at this hour of the night.
She’s chewing and tugging gently on his shirt collar, and the little puffs of her breath are warm on his cheek. ” “We’re going out for drinks, to celebrate the success of Matsu Jun’s stageplay now that it’s over. Sho senses his hesitance, and Nino can hear the frown in his voice. ” “Right…” Nino quickly thinks of an alternative option. Just in case, he digs out a demo CD of his own music and puts it on repeat before blockading her in the living room with her toys and some pillows and blankets. It doesn’t have to be anything big, like this, but call me when you’re free. *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* *~.~* Going back to work is a lot easier than Nino imagined it would be.
He hasn’t left the house in a week, and it’s probably a good thing that he’s forced to stock up on his groceries. “I’ve got a bunch to take home today.” And he holds up the bucket in his other hand as proof. And there’s still some at home from the last time I went. If he were to guess Pan’s age, he’d say she’s probably around six months. “Yeah, they’re fish.” Ohno answers, smirking in a slight, crooked way that says he’s being amused by whatever Nino is doing.
There are fliers spilling out of his mailbox, and he picks out the first grocery-related ones with ‘SALE’ on them that he sees. I got excited.” He pouts and Nino finds he can’t stay angry. The lid is closed, but the strong smell of fish is still escaping. Dad says he’s sick of eating fish…” He’s pouting again, and then he turns his gaze back to Nino’s. Somehow, that expression always makes him uncomfortable, so Nino flushes and shifts the bag of milk to his other arm because it’s starting to hurt.
He stews in the bath until his fingers are all wrinkled, but hesitates before climbing into bed.