Fic: Relearning
Title: Relearning
Author: fairymage
Rating: PG-13... maybe a little higher
Community: golden_pair
Contest: Fic for a Pic 2006
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Golden Pair
Cross-posted to golden_pair
He was bored.
Most people would have thought he was crazy. Hell, 99% of Japan thought he was crazy. He was at the top of his game! He was good! He wasn’t undefeated, but that was beside the point. He was an idol, with throngs of adoring fans. People loved his happy, upbeat attitude and his smile. He’d lost most of his acrobatics with age and professional development, but his playful streak never vanished entirely. In short, there was virtually nowhere for him to go.
Which was why he was bored.
No one but the man sitting across from him at the dinner table seemed to understand this. Dark-haired, quiet, serious. The opposite of everything that Eiji had become over the years. He’d disappeared into the inconspicuous yet rewarding world of pediatrics, putting his patience and good humor to work. He understood Eiji with the patience that allowed him to have fluent conversations with a four year old and carefully explain where babies came from to a nine year old.
So he, unlike anyone else, understood why Eiji wanted to try his hand at doubles again.
“Just as long as you keep in mind that it won’t be the same,” Oishi reminded him gently. “I’m in no condition to play with you anymore.” His voice held a gentle note of reprimand that he rarely used with his patients-it was reserved for his impulsive boyfriend alone.
“I know. I’m just…”
“You’re restless,” Oishi finished, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin as he reached for the snap peas. “That’s all. You’ve always wanted to be active, moving, never stagnant. And right now, you feel like you’ve got nowhere to go. And you probably don’t.”
Eiji often wondered if Oishi would have made a good psychologist, or if he was the only one Oishi understood so well.
“When do you plan on starting?”
Eiji shrugged nonchalantly. “When I find a partner.”
“No one’s going to want to play with you anytime soon,” Oishi pointed out. “You’ve become one of the top Japanese singles players. Most of them will doubt your ability to return to doubles fluidly.”
Eiji shrugged again. “Then I’ll just have to prove them wrong.”
Oishi smiled into his rice.
-----
“How’d it go today?”
“Fine.”
“Can you pass the corn?”
“It’s hard.”
“I know. But you’re stubborn. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m so used to having the court to myself. It’s… it’s like it’s about what I anticipate, and what I can see… and…”
“You just need to get readjusted to having someone else on the court with you.”
“It’s…”
“Hard, I know. Here, put this down, please?”
“Oishi…”
“Yes, Eiji?”
“Are you sure you don’t have time to…”
“Play with you? Yes, Eiji, I’m positive. I also don’t have anything close to the physical condition required to play at your level.”
“No, no, not play with me… Just… practice. Just so that I remember… what it’s like to have someone else out there with me.”
“I… suppose I can try to make some time after work and on weekends.”
-----
They were terrible.
Oishi hadn’t held a tennis racquet with the intent of hitting a tennis ball since high school. Eiji hadn’t played doubles since about the same time. And no matter how good they had once been together-perfect unison, perfect synchronization, perfect understanding-they were nothing like that anymore.
Eventually they got better, more comfortable. Oishi’s body remembered what it was like to play tennis, and since he’d never played singles seriously, it naturally fell back into its old place, rusty though it may have been. Eiji slowly adjusted to only covering half the court. It was the simplest place to start; the real tricks of the trade were to be remastered at a much, much later date.
His problem, Oishi said calmly one night over spinach and roast beef, was that Eiji was too used to relying on his sense of sight. He couldn’t feel the other player anymore, couldn’t trust his other senses to know what his partner was going to do. And he couldn’t do that either, because Eiji was so unpredictable.
Eiji asked him how to fix it.
Oishi was quiet, and said he’d think about it and ask around. He wasn’t sure if it was something that could be taught. They tried to remember how they’d done it, so long ago, but it was so distant and so natural that they couldn’t break it down. In their memories, it felt like it had always clicked for them.
For now, all they could do was practice.
One day Oishi related something one of his patients had told him. She was in middle school, and her drama class had done what she called a “trust exercise”-an activity to establish and increase trust amongst the cast members. Blindfolded, they’d had to stand alone on the stage and use their other senses to identify where their classmates were and where they were moving.
It was more complicated than that, Oishi admitted, but he’d cut out most of the details. Did Eiji want to try it after dinner? They wouldn’t do it on a tennis court, not at first, but they could try it in their living room, or something. Eiji would have to rely on his hearing, his sense of smell, and be able to simply feel the presence of another person.
Eiji agreed quickly, but became nervous once Oishi had finished wrapping the bandages (having a doctor in the house was always useful in the most unexpected ways) over his eyes. He couldn’t see anything. And it wasn’t just Oishi, the other person. It was everything else. He couldn’t tell where the carpet he stood on ended and became the kitchen tile. He didn’t know how far it was to the living room couch, or how far the banister of the stairs stuck out.
He knew Oishi was standing right behind him, because he hadn’t felt him move, so it didn’t take him by surprise when Oishi told him that he would be moving, and that Eiji would have to find him. Then he was quiet, and Eiji wondered if now he had moved.
Timidly he began shuffling forward, afraid to pick up his feet lest he put it down somewhere unexpected. He remembered he’d been facing the living room, so he put his hands out to feel for the couch. Once he’d found it, his hands anxiously patting its length, he paused and took a deep breath, trying to visualize the living room in his mind. He struggled with the layout a bit, and ran into an edge of the coffee table in the process. He was afraid his hiss of pain would bring Oishi out of hiding, but it didn’t.
In this way he fumbled through the downstairs-the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, the den and the dining room. His hands never found Oishi, though he suspected that by touch alone he wouldn’t be able to find him. He was too smart to let that happen; if nothing else, he’d force Eiji to learn.
He had to crawl up the first few steps before he got a feeling for them. Once he knew what one felt like, he was able to go up them standing. In the upstairs hallway he paused, trying to figure out where to go. His hand on the wall to guide him, he followed it down to the extra bedroom. He called out Oishi’s name, knowing full well that Oishi wouldn’t respond. He stood in the doorway for a long time, then finally turned away. He didn't think he felt the presence of another person in the room.
It was getting easier. Lightbulbs flickered in his brain as he entered the bathroom. The bathroom was tiled, he remembered, and so any sound was amplified. He stood as quietly as possible in the doorway, listening for any telltale signs of someone breathing or clothing rustling. He knew without having to take more than three steps into the room that Oishi wasn’t in there.
That left only their bedroom. Either that or he’d missed him downstairs somewhere.
Gingerly he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The bedroom was carpeted, and would eat up the sounds before they reached the doorway. He was shuffling slowly towards the bed when he heard something, and then the door closed.
Instinctively he turned, hands out, feeling the air for Oishi. Oishi was still in this room, he hadn’t left. There was definitely something different about the air when another warm, living, breathing body was sharing it with you. Then he dropped to his hands and knees, crawling again. It made him feel safer, being close to the ground.
He was paused, sitting back on his heels, hands planted in front of him, debating what to do next, when he knew Oishi was behind him. He heard the rustle of cloth, felt the gentle movement of Oishi’s breath against the back of his neck, was overwhelmed by the unique scent that was Oishi.
Oishi asked if he’d known that he was there; Eiji was about to respond when Oishi’s hands slid around his waist and beneath his shirt, one running lightly over his stomach, the other slipping downward.
As Oishi leaned down to kiss his throat, Eiji twisted in his embrace, pulling them together and towards the floor. Gently Oishi released him, and he felt long fingers fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants. Squirming, he wiggled out of his shirt and reached eagerly for his lover. He could almost see the smile on Oishi’s face as he felt the fully-clothed body meet his naked one, pressing gently. Oishi was kissing him, working their bodies into a comfortable position, extracting gentle murmurs and mewls of pleasure from Eiji.
In the pause just before foreplay ended and something else entirely started, he asked Oishi if they were done with the lesson. He could feel the thin sheen of sweat on Oishi’s body through his clothes, could smell the change arousal had wrought, could hear the heavy panting of Oishi’s breath.
“Only if you want to be.”
He’d learned enough for one day, he decided. Tennis would come later. Much, much later.
Author: fairymage
Rating: PG-13... maybe a little higher
Community: golden_pair
Contest: Fic for a Pic 2006
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Golden Pair
Cross-posted to golden_pair
He was bored.
Most people would have thought he was crazy. Hell, 99% of Japan thought he was crazy. He was at the top of his game! He was good! He wasn’t undefeated, but that was beside the point. He was an idol, with throngs of adoring fans. People loved his happy, upbeat attitude and his smile. He’d lost most of his acrobatics with age and professional development, but his playful streak never vanished entirely. In short, there was virtually nowhere for him to go.
Which was why he was bored.
No one but the man sitting across from him at the dinner table seemed to understand this. Dark-haired, quiet, serious. The opposite of everything that Eiji had become over the years. He’d disappeared into the inconspicuous yet rewarding world of pediatrics, putting his patience and good humor to work. He understood Eiji with the patience that allowed him to have fluent conversations with a four year old and carefully explain where babies came from to a nine year old.
So he, unlike anyone else, understood why Eiji wanted to try his hand at doubles again.
“Just as long as you keep in mind that it won’t be the same,” Oishi reminded him gently. “I’m in no condition to play with you anymore.” His voice held a gentle note of reprimand that he rarely used with his patients-it was reserved for his impulsive boyfriend alone.
“I know. I’m just…”
“You’re restless,” Oishi finished, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin as he reached for the snap peas. “That’s all. You’ve always wanted to be active, moving, never stagnant. And right now, you feel like you’ve got nowhere to go. And you probably don’t.”
Eiji often wondered if Oishi would have made a good psychologist, or if he was the only one Oishi understood so well.
“When do you plan on starting?”
Eiji shrugged nonchalantly. “When I find a partner.”
“No one’s going to want to play with you anytime soon,” Oishi pointed out. “You’ve become one of the top Japanese singles players. Most of them will doubt your ability to return to doubles fluidly.”
Eiji shrugged again. “Then I’ll just have to prove them wrong.”
Oishi smiled into his rice.
-----
“How’d it go today?”
“Fine.”
“Can you pass the corn?”
“It’s hard.”
“I know. But you’re stubborn. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m so used to having the court to myself. It’s… it’s like it’s about what I anticipate, and what I can see… and…”
“You just need to get readjusted to having someone else on the court with you.”
“It’s…”
“Hard, I know. Here, put this down, please?”
“Oishi…”
“Yes, Eiji?”
“Are you sure you don’t have time to…”
“Play with you? Yes, Eiji, I’m positive. I also don’t have anything close to the physical condition required to play at your level.”
“No, no, not play with me… Just… practice. Just so that I remember… what it’s like to have someone else out there with me.”
“I… suppose I can try to make some time after work and on weekends.”
-----
They were terrible.
Oishi hadn’t held a tennis racquet with the intent of hitting a tennis ball since high school. Eiji hadn’t played doubles since about the same time. And no matter how good they had once been together-perfect unison, perfect synchronization, perfect understanding-they were nothing like that anymore.
Eventually they got better, more comfortable. Oishi’s body remembered what it was like to play tennis, and since he’d never played singles seriously, it naturally fell back into its old place, rusty though it may have been. Eiji slowly adjusted to only covering half the court. It was the simplest place to start; the real tricks of the trade were to be remastered at a much, much later date.
His problem, Oishi said calmly one night over spinach and roast beef, was that Eiji was too used to relying on his sense of sight. He couldn’t feel the other player anymore, couldn’t trust his other senses to know what his partner was going to do. And he couldn’t do that either, because Eiji was so unpredictable.
Eiji asked him how to fix it.
Oishi was quiet, and said he’d think about it and ask around. He wasn’t sure if it was something that could be taught. They tried to remember how they’d done it, so long ago, but it was so distant and so natural that they couldn’t break it down. In their memories, it felt like it had always clicked for them.
For now, all they could do was practice.
One day Oishi related something one of his patients had told him. She was in middle school, and her drama class had done what she called a “trust exercise”-an activity to establish and increase trust amongst the cast members. Blindfolded, they’d had to stand alone on the stage and use their other senses to identify where their classmates were and where they were moving.
It was more complicated than that, Oishi admitted, but he’d cut out most of the details. Did Eiji want to try it after dinner? They wouldn’t do it on a tennis court, not at first, but they could try it in their living room, or something. Eiji would have to rely on his hearing, his sense of smell, and be able to simply feel the presence of another person.
Eiji agreed quickly, but became nervous once Oishi had finished wrapping the bandages (having a doctor in the house was always useful in the most unexpected ways) over his eyes. He couldn’t see anything. And it wasn’t just Oishi, the other person. It was everything else. He couldn’t tell where the carpet he stood on ended and became the kitchen tile. He didn’t know how far it was to the living room couch, or how far the banister of the stairs stuck out.
He knew Oishi was standing right behind him, because he hadn’t felt him move, so it didn’t take him by surprise when Oishi told him that he would be moving, and that Eiji would have to find him. Then he was quiet, and Eiji wondered if now he had moved.
Timidly he began shuffling forward, afraid to pick up his feet lest he put it down somewhere unexpected. He remembered he’d been facing the living room, so he put his hands out to feel for the couch. Once he’d found it, his hands anxiously patting its length, he paused and took a deep breath, trying to visualize the living room in his mind. He struggled with the layout a bit, and ran into an edge of the coffee table in the process. He was afraid his hiss of pain would bring Oishi out of hiding, but it didn’t.
In this way he fumbled through the downstairs-the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, the den and the dining room. His hands never found Oishi, though he suspected that by touch alone he wouldn’t be able to find him. He was too smart to let that happen; if nothing else, he’d force Eiji to learn.
He had to crawl up the first few steps before he got a feeling for them. Once he knew what one felt like, he was able to go up them standing. In the upstairs hallway he paused, trying to figure out where to go. His hand on the wall to guide him, he followed it down to the extra bedroom. He called out Oishi’s name, knowing full well that Oishi wouldn’t respond. He stood in the doorway for a long time, then finally turned away. He didn't think he felt the presence of another person in the room.
It was getting easier. Lightbulbs flickered in his brain as he entered the bathroom. The bathroom was tiled, he remembered, and so any sound was amplified. He stood as quietly as possible in the doorway, listening for any telltale signs of someone breathing or clothing rustling. He knew without having to take more than three steps into the room that Oishi wasn’t in there.
That left only their bedroom. Either that or he’d missed him downstairs somewhere.
Gingerly he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The bedroom was carpeted, and would eat up the sounds before they reached the doorway. He was shuffling slowly towards the bed when he heard something, and then the door closed.
Instinctively he turned, hands out, feeling the air for Oishi. Oishi was still in this room, he hadn’t left. There was definitely something different about the air when another warm, living, breathing body was sharing it with you. Then he dropped to his hands and knees, crawling again. It made him feel safer, being close to the ground.
He was paused, sitting back on his heels, hands planted in front of him, debating what to do next, when he knew Oishi was behind him. He heard the rustle of cloth, felt the gentle movement of Oishi’s breath against the back of his neck, was overwhelmed by the unique scent that was Oishi.
Oishi asked if he’d known that he was there; Eiji was about to respond when Oishi’s hands slid around his waist and beneath his shirt, one running lightly over his stomach, the other slipping downward.
As Oishi leaned down to kiss his throat, Eiji twisted in his embrace, pulling them together and towards the floor. Gently Oishi released him, and he felt long fingers fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants. Squirming, he wiggled out of his shirt and reached eagerly for his lover. He could almost see the smile on Oishi’s face as he felt the fully-clothed body meet his naked one, pressing gently. Oishi was kissing him, working their bodies into a comfortable position, extracting gentle murmurs and mewls of pleasure from Eiji.
In the pause just before foreplay ended and something else entirely started, he asked Oishi if they were done with the lesson. He could feel the thin sheen of sweat on Oishi’s body through his clothes, could smell the change arousal had wrought, could hear the heavy panting of Oishi’s breath.
“Only if you want to be.”
He’d learned enough for one day, he decided. Tennis would come later. Much, much later.