A/N: Welcome to 'What Happens in the Garage, Stays in the Garage…' first off I'd like to thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope dearly that you enjoy reading my work. Thanks to being ill a few days ago I decided on a mere impulse to pick up my copy of Jet Set Radio Future, and have managed to get hooked on it once more. Which is why I given myself a ficlit challenge in which I will write 100 Jet Set Radio-centric ficlits based on pre-determined themes and posting them here. Hope you stick around for the ride.

Cheers.

Ficlit: Sleeping Arrangements
Rating: K
Character(s): Corn
Prompt #001: Beginnings
Word Count: 589
Disclaimer: I do not own Jet Set Radio Future, or it's characters. They belong to the geniuses that created them

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A yawn.

Then a low groan…

…added to the morning ambiance as sunbeams shone down on the blonde's face through the holes that littered the tattered maroon curtains. Keeping his eyes plastered shut Corn blindly reached out for his hat, which he assumed would be sitting upon the makeshift end table made of an old waste paper bin. A frown graced his features when his hand felt nothing except cold metal instead of the navy blue textile. The frown was quickly replaced by a lingering wince as he forced his body to switch to an upright position. Muscles in his legs and arms burned subtly, mere whispers of all the physical strain they were put under on a daily basis. Those pains would fade within the hour, nothing a well-brewed cup of coffee wouldn't fix.

His neck and spine however, protested the most, like loudly screaming toddlers in a supermarket, punishing him for neglecting to offer them proper support during the night. This was hardly a surprise. It's a fact one comes to expect when spending the night in the world's shittiest easy chair. Corn promptly made a mental note to preferably arrive home before 2am in the morning in the future. This was due to the mere fact that all other decent crashing areas had a tendency to disappear at a rather fast pace after then. Even the bathtub in which he knew Soda to be currently occupying was slightly more agreeable than 'the chair'.

Truth of the matter was, the GG's, like most if not all the other street gangs scattered throughout Toyko-to were comprised of people who had found themselves living on the streets for one reason or another. It wasn't exactly a popular topic of conversation. Understandably, their 'house' was, naturally small. Made only smaller still, seeing that the home clearly made for three people was forced to house twelve. So naturally sleeping arrangements were scarce at best. The house was generally only a place to do three things, and three things only. Eat, crash, and watch T.V., oh, and washing up was a favorable thing to do as well.

The GG's leader finally made a move to bend over and snatch his hat, which only was a few inches shy of sitting in a half eaten pizza. Corn ran a hand (with minor difficulty) through matted blond hair before ultimately replacing his hat back on his head. Eyes cast their gaze around the room, Garam, Rhyth and Jazz had not moved since he had entered the home only a few hours prior. Garam was laying on his back on the couch, large, bug-like googles laying idly on his chest, while Jazz sat curled up in a rather uncomfortable looking position by his feet using her scarf as a pillow. Rhyth had found an even more obscure pose (that still managed to seem more comfortable than 'the chair') laying on her side, on top of the couch's backboard leaning heavily against the wall legs and arms sprawled out all over. The scene in front of him caused a fond smile to tug at his lips momentarily.

Uncomfortable and unsavory as their current lifestyle might seem to outsiders looking in…

Mornings, beginnings like this Corn wouldn't trade for the world. It almost made him wish there was a camera within his reach, as he stared at them for the longest time. Just watching them breathe. His friends, his family, everything he had left.

It would make a great blackmail photo after all.

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End 001