Pianissimo: 05 (La Corda d'Oro, Ryoutarou/Len)
Title: Pianissimo ~ A Violin & Piano Romance
05: I Never
Fandom: La Corda d’Oro
Pairing: Eventual Ryoutarou Tsuchiura x Len Tsukimori, briefly mentioned one-sided Ryoutarou x Kahoko
Rating: PG-13, I guess, if only for alcohol usage
Disclaimer: La Corda d’Oro and its characters do not belong to me.
Summary: Future fic. A series of one-shots and drabbles following the progression of the relationship between Ryoutarou and Len, from feuding roommates to friends to lovers.
A/N: *There’s a reference to “You’re Pretty” (just for you, pillowmagic!) that won’t make sense unless you’ve read it, but it isn’t a huge part of the story or anything.
When Len answered the phone on Friday afternoon, he was greeted with a frantic whisper: “Get out. Get out and run now while you still can.”
“What?”
“Get out while you st-”
“Stop talking like that.”
“Okay, okay,” Ryoutarou relented. “Listen, some guys from the team want to come over.”
“So?”
“So, I know they aren’t exactly your cup of tea,” Ryoutarou explained gingerly, “and I figured you might want to go somewhere else, like the library or something.”
Len frowned. “Thanks for the heads up.” And he hung up before Ryoutarou could say anything else.
Stupid pianist. What was he implying? That Len couldn’t hang with the boys or something like that? As if. He could hang. He could so hang. He could hang all over the place if he wanted to. Stupid pianist. He’d show him.
In hindsight, maybe he should’ve gone to the library or something.
Len had no idea that five men could take up so much space. It seemed more like five hundred. He was just grateful that they’d obviously showered after practice, so they weren’t sweating all over the place. But they’d brought beer. And that couldn’t mean anything good.
“I told you to run, man,” Ryoutarou whispered in his ear as he passed by, moving to sit by Sasaki on the couch, and Len felt quite proud of himself for not shivering at the feeling.
It felt like he was surrounded by a bunch of long-legged monkeys. In Oda’s case, a gorilla; he was a big guy. And he laughed a lot-a big, hearty, rumbling laugh. Very intimidating.
They all were-intimidating soccer monkeys. Even Akira, who was a little on the short side and turned red every five minutes or so. Basho, who had a nose ring, had a habit of jumping up and shouting, “BOOYAH,” every time he made a sex joke. Which was often. Nobu was quieter, but he had big eyes that looked at Len with an uncomfortable intensity. And Sasaki-well, Sasaki always made Len somewhat…nervous. And…oddly competitive. Just because.
“Len,” Sasaki said, rather cheerfully, “sit down and have a beer! We’re playing I Never.”
Antagonistic little punk.
“I Never?” Len arched an eyebrow as he perched himself on the arm of the chair Oda was occupying that sat across from the couch. “That’s pretty high school, isn’t it?”
“That your way of chickening out?” Basho, was sitting on the floor beside the chair, teased with a grin, holding up a beer can.
Len glanced at Ryoutarou, who was shaking his head vehemently, and felt emboldened. He took the offered can and popped the top open casually, like he drank beer everyday. He’d never drunk beer once in his life, really, but they didn’t need to know that. Ryoutarou might’ve guessed; Len figured by the way the pianist was looking at him, but he chose to ignore that.
“All right, I’ll start,” Basho said. “I’ve never…no, no, I’ve done that. Hm, and I’ve done that…twice, if you know what I’m saying!” He laughed, holding his hand up for a high-five.
“Okay, man.” Ryoutarou rolled his eyes, slapping his palm lightly. “Play the game.”
“All right, all right. I’ve never-”
“And try to keep it rated PG,” Nobu added. “At least for now, huh?”
“Lame,” Basho snorted. “Whatever. You’ll change your minds once you’ve got some booze in you. So, here we go. I’ve never worn a skirt.”
Nobu scowled and drank, cheeks going pink as his teammates snickered. “It was one time…”
“Sure,” Basho smirked and then looked up at Len. “Your turn.”
Len didn’t even blink. “I’ve never played soccer.”
Grumbling, the guys admitted that was a good one and they all drank.
“Very well,” Oda said as he lowered his beer can. “I’ve never played an instrument.”
“Thanks, man,” Ryoutarou deadpanned as he and Len drank, trying not to smirk and draw attention to the little grimace Len made. “I’ve never…” He did smirk, then, as a wicked thought came to him. “I’ve never needed to use a parrot to get compliments.*”
Len glared over the can as he brought it to his lips. He almost didn’t notice that Akira was drinking too, until the other guys gave a teasing, “Awww,” and Akira’s face turned red. He might have to ask the guy about that later. Men who enjoy parrot praise are a rare breed and need to stick together.
“I’ve never had famous parents,” Sasaki chirped.
Monkey punk.
Len sighed and drank again; the beer still tasted weird and cheap, but he was starting to feel a nice little buzz in his throat and head. “This is a conspiracy.”
“Maybe this will help you out,” Akira timidly offered. “I’ve never kissed a member of the cheerleading squad.”
Len nodded faintly in thanks, while mentally scolding himself for feeling oddly relieved when he noticed Ryoutarou was the only other guy not drinking.
“I’ve never…” Nobu said slowly, thoughtfully. “I’ve never…been in love.”
Akira turned red and drank. Oda smiled fondly and drank. Sasaki hesitated for a moment and drank. Len looked at Ryoutarou and Ryoutarou looked back at him. And drank. Len felt a tightening in his chest and drank and found he was able to ignore that feeling, if only momentarily.
[~]
Len was really drunk.
During the game, Ryoutarou had watched with partial uneasiness and partial amusement as Len’s face grew flushed and low chuckles started trickling from his throat every few minutes or so. He shook his head as Len leaned precariously, almost falling off the arm of the chair and into Oda’s lap.
“I’ve never ridden a bike,” Len said solemnly, looking at Oda, who sat still as the others drank. “You neither? Isn’t that sad?”
Oda nodded, sniffling. “Talk about sad, I’ve never even ridden a tricycle!”
“Aw, man, don’t cry,” Basho soothed from where he was lying on his back on the floor. “You guys can ride my bi-tri-cycle anytime! BOOYAH!”
“Really?” Len asked.
“Okay,” Ryoutarou interrupted quickly, shrugging Sasaki’s arm off of his shoulder. “Len looks tired. He should go to bed.”
He stood from the couch and took the half-empty beer can from Len-his fourth-and handed it to Basho. He came willingly when Ryoutarou helped him to his feet and slipped an arm around his waist to keep him from stumbling on the way to Len’s bedroom; the others called after them a loud and sincere, “Good night, Len,” and the violinist chuckled.
Ryoutarou smiled slightly as he lowered the other man onto his bed. Doing this for Len felt kinda funny, but in a kinda good way. He pulled the cover up to tuck the guy in, and Len looked up at him with his eyes half-lidded and glazed over.
“Do they like me?” He asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Ryoutarou assured him. “Of course they like you.”
“Well, I’m a very likable person.”
“Sure,” he teased. “When you’re drunk.”
“Ha.” Len closed his eyes and then opened them again, his brow furrowing uncertainly. “…Do you like me?”
Ryoutarou looked at him, silent for a moment. He doubted the way he answered right now would matter, since Len might not remember a thing in the morning, anyway. But even if he did remember…there was nothing wrong with being honest, right? And he and Len were friends now, weren’t they? Sort of? He liked to think so, in any case.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “Even when you’re not drunk.”
Len smiled at him, and it wasn’t a tiny smile, but it was still a drunk smile, so Ryoutarou tried not to get too excited. And, really, a smile shouldn’t get him that excited.
But then Len lifted his head up from the pillow.
And kissed him.
It was a brief kiss. Just a short meeting of lips. But it was a kiss. And not the kind of kiss Ryoutarou could maybe expect from a good friend, like Sasaki or Hihara. But rather, it was the kind of kiss Ryoutarou had been waiting to maybe one day receive from Kahoko. And he’d gotten it from Len.
He stared, stunned, as the violinist pulled away with closed eyes and curled onto his side, still smiling. He ran his palm over his mouth and swallowed hard, his knees going a little weak and causing him to sit down on the floor. Oh, hell. That inexplicable feeling in his chest was back again. This was no good. Maybe he was having a heart attack.
Or maybe he was-
No. No, no, no. That was not happening. He was not going to think about that. Len was drunk, that was all. If he remembered in the morning, they’d laugh it off and Ryoutarou would have marvelous blackmail. If he forgot, Ryoutarou would forget, too.
Yes. That was it. He would just forget. Just forget. It shouldn’t be too hard. He was forgetting already.
[~]
“Please tell me I didn’t do something to embarrass myself.”
Ryoutarou’s face warmed and his heart started hammering at the sound of Len’s voice behind him. So much for forgetting.
“You, ah, don’t remember anything?” He asked, slowly taking down his cereal bowl from the cupboard, stalling.
“Practically nothing after Basho decided to do something about Akira’s lack of lapdance experience.”
“Sorry about that,” Ryoutarou said, turning to give Len an apologetic look. “I didn’t think he’d actually-”
“Yeah, I don’t think Akira did, either.” Len half-smirked and Ryoutarou laughed. “So…?”
“So…” He turned back to the counter and started filling his bowl. “No. You didn’t embarrass yourself.”
“Good,” Len sighed in relief. “I’m gonna go take something for this headache.”
Ryoutarou nodded, thinking that Len handled a hangover rather nicely. As Len headed for the bathroom, Ryoutarou heard him mumble something that sounded suspiciously like, “I knew I could hang with those monkeys.”
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing.”
05: I Never
Fandom: La Corda d’Oro
Pairing: Eventual Ryoutarou Tsuchiura x Len Tsukimori, briefly mentioned one-sided Ryoutarou x Kahoko
Rating: PG-13, I guess, if only for alcohol usage
Disclaimer: La Corda d’Oro and its characters do not belong to me.
Summary: Future fic. A series of one-shots and drabbles following the progression of the relationship between Ryoutarou and Len, from feuding roommates to friends to lovers.
A/N: *There’s a reference to “You’re Pretty” (just for you, pillowmagic!) that won’t make sense unless you’ve read it, but it isn’t a huge part of the story or anything.
When Len answered the phone on Friday afternoon, he was greeted with a frantic whisper: “Get out. Get out and run now while you still can.”
“What?”
“Get out while you st-”
“Stop talking like that.”
“Okay, okay,” Ryoutarou relented. “Listen, some guys from the team want to come over.”
“So?”
“So, I know they aren’t exactly your cup of tea,” Ryoutarou explained gingerly, “and I figured you might want to go somewhere else, like the library or something.”
Len frowned. “Thanks for the heads up.” And he hung up before Ryoutarou could say anything else.
Stupid pianist. What was he implying? That Len couldn’t hang with the boys or something like that? As if. He could hang. He could so hang. He could hang all over the place if he wanted to. Stupid pianist. He’d show him.
In hindsight, maybe he should’ve gone to the library or something.
Len had no idea that five men could take up so much space. It seemed more like five hundred. He was just grateful that they’d obviously showered after practice, so they weren’t sweating all over the place. But they’d brought beer. And that couldn’t mean anything good.
“I told you to run, man,” Ryoutarou whispered in his ear as he passed by, moving to sit by Sasaki on the couch, and Len felt quite proud of himself for not shivering at the feeling.
It felt like he was surrounded by a bunch of long-legged monkeys. In Oda’s case, a gorilla; he was a big guy. And he laughed a lot-a big, hearty, rumbling laugh. Very intimidating.
They all were-intimidating soccer monkeys. Even Akira, who was a little on the short side and turned red every five minutes or so. Basho, who had a nose ring, had a habit of jumping up and shouting, “BOOYAH,” every time he made a sex joke. Which was often. Nobu was quieter, but he had big eyes that looked at Len with an uncomfortable intensity. And Sasaki-well, Sasaki always made Len somewhat…nervous. And…oddly competitive. Just because.
“Len,” Sasaki said, rather cheerfully, “sit down and have a beer! We’re playing I Never.”
Antagonistic little punk.
“I Never?” Len arched an eyebrow as he perched himself on the arm of the chair Oda was occupying that sat across from the couch. “That’s pretty high school, isn’t it?”
“That your way of chickening out?” Basho, was sitting on the floor beside the chair, teased with a grin, holding up a beer can.
Len glanced at Ryoutarou, who was shaking his head vehemently, and felt emboldened. He took the offered can and popped the top open casually, like he drank beer everyday. He’d never drunk beer once in his life, really, but they didn’t need to know that. Ryoutarou might’ve guessed; Len figured by the way the pianist was looking at him, but he chose to ignore that.
“All right, I’ll start,” Basho said. “I’ve never…no, no, I’ve done that. Hm, and I’ve done that…twice, if you know what I’m saying!” He laughed, holding his hand up for a high-five.
“Okay, man.” Ryoutarou rolled his eyes, slapping his palm lightly. “Play the game.”
“All right, all right. I’ve never-”
“And try to keep it rated PG,” Nobu added. “At least for now, huh?”
“Lame,” Basho snorted. “Whatever. You’ll change your minds once you’ve got some booze in you. So, here we go. I’ve never worn a skirt.”
Nobu scowled and drank, cheeks going pink as his teammates snickered. “It was one time…”
“Sure,” Basho smirked and then looked up at Len. “Your turn.”
Len didn’t even blink. “I’ve never played soccer.”
Grumbling, the guys admitted that was a good one and they all drank.
“Very well,” Oda said as he lowered his beer can. “I’ve never played an instrument.”
“Thanks, man,” Ryoutarou deadpanned as he and Len drank, trying not to smirk and draw attention to the little grimace Len made. “I’ve never…” He did smirk, then, as a wicked thought came to him. “I’ve never needed to use a parrot to get compliments.*”
Len glared over the can as he brought it to his lips. He almost didn’t notice that Akira was drinking too, until the other guys gave a teasing, “Awww,” and Akira’s face turned red. He might have to ask the guy about that later. Men who enjoy parrot praise are a rare breed and need to stick together.
“I’ve never had famous parents,” Sasaki chirped.
Monkey punk.
Len sighed and drank again; the beer still tasted weird and cheap, but he was starting to feel a nice little buzz in his throat and head. “This is a conspiracy.”
“Maybe this will help you out,” Akira timidly offered. “I’ve never kissed a member of the cheerleading squad.”
Len nodded faintly in thanks, while mentally scolding himself for feeling oddly relieved when he noticed Ryoutarou was the only other guy not drinking.
“I’ve never…” Nobu said slowly, thoughtfully. “I’ve never…been in love.”
Akira turned red and drank. Oda smiled fondly and drank. Sasaki hesitated for a moment and drank. Len looked at Ryoutarou and Ryoutarou looked back at him. And drank. Len felt a tightening in his chest and drank and found he was able to ignore that feeling, if only momentarily.
[~]
Len was really drunk.
During the game, Ryoutarou had watched with partial uneasiness and partial amusement as Len’s face grew flushed and low chuckles started trickling from his throat every few minutes or so. He shook his head as Len leaned precariously, almost falling off the arm of the chair and into Oda’s lap.
“I’ve never ridden a bike,” Len said solemnly, looking at Oda, who sat still as the others drank. “You neither? Isn’t that sad?”
Oda nodded, sniffling. “Talk about sad, I’ve never even ridden a tricycle!”
“Aw, man, don’t cry,” Basho soothed from where he was lying on his back on the floor. “You guys can ride my bi-tri-cycle anytime! BOOYAH!”
“Really?” Len asked.
“Okay,” Ryoutarou interrupted quickly, shrugging Sasaki’s arm off of his shoulder. “Len looks tired. He should go to bed.”
He stood from the couch and took the half-empty beer can from Len-his fourth-and handed it to Basho. He came willingly when Ryoutarou helped him to his feet and slipped an arm around his waist to keep him from stumbling on the way to Len’s bedroom; the others called after them a loud and sincere, “Good night, Len,” and the violinist chuckled.
Ryoutarou smiled slightly as he lowered the other man onto his bed. Doing this for Len felt kinda funny, but in a kinda good way. He pulled the cover up to tuck the guy in, and Len looked up at him with his eyes half-lidded and glazed over.
“Do they like me?” He asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Ryoutarou assured him. “Of course they like you.”
“Well, I’m a very likable person.”
“Sure,” he teased. “When you’re drunk.”
“Ha.” Len closed his eyes and then opened them again, his brow furrowing uncertainly. “…Do you like me?”
Ryoutarou looked at him, silent for a moment. He doubted the way he answered right now would matter, since Len might not remember a thing in the morning, anyway. But even if he did remember…there was nothing wrong with being honest, right? And he and Len were friends now, weren’t they? Sort of? He liked to think so, in any case.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “Even when you’re not drunk.”
Len smiled at him, and it wasn’t a tiny smile, but it was still a drunk smile, so Ryoutarou tried not to get too excited. And, really, a smile shouldn’t get him that excited.
But then Len lifted his head up from the pillow.
And kissed him.
It was a brief kiss. Just a short meeting of lips. But it was a kiss. And not the kind of kiss Ryoutarou could maybe expect from a good friend, like Sasaki or Hihara. But rather, it was the kind of kiss Ryoutarou had been waiting to maybe one day receive from Kahoko. And he’d gotten it from Len.
He stared, stunned, as the violinist pulled away with closed eyes and curled onto his side, still smiling. He ran his palm over his mouth and swallowed hard, his knees going a little weak and causing him to sit down on the floor. Oh, hell. That inexplicable feeling in his chest was back again. This was no good. Maybe he was having a heart attack.
Or maybe he was-
No. No, no, no. That was not happening. He was not going to think about that. Len was drunk, that was all. If he remembered in the morning, they’d laugh it off and Ryoutarou would have marvelous blackmail. If he forgot, Ryoutarou would forget, too.
Yes. That was it. He would just forget. Just forget. It shouldn’t be too hard. He was forgetting already.
[~]
“Please tell me I didn’t do something to embarrass myself.”
Ryoutarou’s face warmed and his heart started hammering at the sound of Len’s voice behind him. So much for forgetting.
“You, ah, don’t remember anything?” He asked, slowly taking down his cereal bowl from the cupboard, stalling.
“Practically nothing after Basho decided to do something about Akira’s lack of lapdance experience.”
“Sorry about that,” Ryoutarou said, turning to give Len an apologetic look. “I didn’t think he’d actually-”
“Yeah, I don’t think Akira did, either.” Len half-smirked and Ryoutarou laughed. “So…?”
“So…” He turned back to the counter and started filling his bowl. “No. You didn’t embarrass yourself.”
“Good,” Len sighed in relief. “I’m gonna go take something for this headache.”
Ryoutarou nodded, thinking that Len handled a hangover rather nicely. As Len headed for the bathroom, Ryoutarou heard him mumble something that sounded suspiciously like, “I knew I could hang with those monkeys.”
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing.”