Happy spring, plotbunnytohma!
Title: Thoughtful Gifts
Recipient's name: plotbunnytohma
Pairing: Kirihara/Ryoma
Rating: PG
Author's Note: Written for plotbunnytohma in the spring_fluff exchange. Hope this turned out okay. Thanks to my beta for the quick turnover!
Summary: Ryoma gets Kirihara something unexpected.
"What's this?" asked Kirihara, shaking the small, silver box in his hands a little more roughly than was strictly necessary. He watched Ryoma's face as he did so, amused when the box was snatched out of his hands.
"A present," Ryoma replied tersely, his voice kept low. The game was at four games to three, Rikkai's pair against Rokkaku's in the first set of doubles; the two of them sat further back in the cramped stands, in almost-privacy where they wouldn't be seen as much, though anything said too loudly would more than likely be overheard.
Kirihara snatched his present back. He shook it again; then looked at Ryoma. "I hope it wasn't alive."
Ryoma frowned.
Knocking Ryoma's hat off his head with a fast yet effective flick of his fingers, he worked on unfastening the shimmering silver ribbon, enjoying Ryoma's muffled line of complaints as he stuck his hat back on his head. The box was barely bigger than his palm and felt light; when he opened it, he saw a plain brown collar.
"Echizen. What..."
"It's for your dog," said Ryoma. He pulled his hat lower over his eyes. "You said a brown collar would look better than the red one he has. So..."
When Ryoma stopped talking, Kirihara looked up, but Ryoma's eyes were firmly on the game. He flipped the box over, the collar landing in his palm. He brought it to his eyes, running one finger over the thick line of what he realised was leather.
"I got a matching one for Karupin," said Ryoma, interrupting his thoughts. "He looks better in brown too."
"...uh huh," said Kirihara, still not quite sure what to make of his gift. It was definitely thoughtful; he had said he wanted something to better bring out the brown patches in his new puppy's fur; he hadn't really expected Ryoma to listen though. It was difficult to tell when Ryoma actually picked up on things and when he ignored them completely. Kirihara liked that, for some reason he didn't really understand - something about being close to someone who didn't memorise every detail but acted when it was important was easier to get along with.
It didn't hurt that Ryoma's eyes were a colour Kirihara swore didn't exist in the rainbow, or that he would subconsciously curl closer towards Kirihara the few times they got to lie close together.
"Most people would say thank you," Ryoma muttered.
"Yeah, well. You're not going out with most people," said Kirihara, eyes focused on the game. "You're going out with me."
Ryoma smirked. "My dad's always telling me I have horrible taste."
Kirihara punched him in the knee.
At the sound of loud cheering in front of them, they both looked back at the court; it was now five games to three, Rikkai's lead. Kirihara leaned back, collar held between his fingers as he steadied himself, leaning his head to the side; when lips pressed against his neck, Ryoma leaned forward, closing his eyes. Kirihara kissed him softly, on the neck, on the cheek.
He pulled away, sitting forward once more. Ryoma's face was barely visible beneath the white cap, but Kirihara could still see faint spots of pink just beneath. He twirled the collar in his fingers, looking at it in something akin to fascination.
"If you drop it, I'm not getting you another one," Ryoma threatened, standing up.
"Where are you going?" asked Kirihara, reaching for Ryoma's jacket.
"Juice."
Kirihara tugged hard on the sleeve of Ryoma's Seigaku uniform. Ryoma consequently landed back on top of the stone bench with a loud sort of sound. He glared at Kirihara.
Kirihara reached for his hand. Ryoma's eyes widened, then looked around cautiously.
"Relax," said Kirhara. He turned away for a few seconds, holding Ryoma's hand with one of his own as the other fished inside his bag. He muttered an "oh, there it is" before turning to Ryoma. He placed the cylindrical object in Ryoma's hand and let go.
"You...bought me Ponta?" asked Ryoma.
"That's what you like, right?" asked Kirihara, waving off the thoughtfulness Ryoma was attempting to verbally thrust on him.
"Yeah..."
"Then?" said Kirihara, looked at him. "Drink it. It's not poisoned."
"I like the grape one."
Kirihara rolled his eyes; he grabbed the Ponta can from Ryoma and shoved it in his bag. Almost immediately afterward, his hand emerged again - with three different cans. "Here, take the one you like and stop pouting."
Ryoma carefully selected the grape, popping the top open and draining a fourth of the can. Kirihara picked the orange and tried it, feeling doubtful. It didn't end up tasting half bad, though he didn't see why Ryoma seemed addicted to the stuff. Maybe he'd have to try the grape one next time.
They sat and drank, the game ending within five minutes, the singles matches about to start. Kirihara played in singles two, winning against his opponent. Ryoma wandered off halfway through the game, appearing again just before it ended to see the final three plays.
"Sanada's taking us out for pizza," said Kirihara, wiping his face with a towel. "Wanna come?"
"No," answered Ryoma without hesitation.
It wasn't a surprising answer, but Kirihara tugged on the brim of Ryoma's cap anyway, pulling it far down over his eyes. Ryoma grunted and re-situated it, looking up defiantly. His mouth was set into an angry pout, hands balled at his sides, as if he were about to hit him.
Kirihara didn't bother looking left or right before leaning down, kissing Ryoma softly, tongue running along the inside of Ryoma's mouth for two quick seconds before pulling back.
Ryoma looked thoughtful; then he frowned.
"You taste like orange."
Kirihara hit him again, collar heavy and warmed in his left pocket as he ran to catch up to the rest of the Rikkai team.
Recipient's name: plotbunnytohma
Pairing: Kirihara/Ryoma
Rating: PG
Author's Note: Written for plotbunnytohma in the spring_fluff exchange. Hope this turned out okay. Thanks to my beta for the quick turnover!
Summary: Ryoma gets Kirihara something unexpected.
"What's this?" asked Kirihara, shaking the small, silver box in his hands a little more roughly than was strictly necessary. He watched Ryoma's face as he did so, amused when the box was snatched out of his hands.
"A present," Ryoma replied tersely, his voice kept low. The game was at four games to three, Rikkai's pair against Rokkaku's in the first set of doubles; the two of them sat further back in the cramped stands, in almost-privacy where they wouldn't be seen as much, though anything said too loudly would more than likely be overheard.
Kirihara snatched his present back. He shook it again; then looked at Ryoma. "I hope it wasn't alive."
Ryoma frowned.
Knocking Ryoma's hat off his head with a fast yet effective flick of his fingers, he worked on unfastening the shimmering silver ribbon, enjoying Ryoma's muffled line of complaints as he stuck his hat back on his head. The box was barely bigger than his palm and felt light; when he opened it, he saw a plain brown collar.
"Echizen. What..."
"It's for your dog," said Ryoma. He pulled his hat lower over his eyes. "You said a brown collar would look better than the red one he has. So..."
When Ryoma stopped talking, Kirihara looked up, but Ryoma's eyes were firmly on the game. He flipped the box over, the collar landing in his palm. He brought it to his eyes, running one finger over the thick line of what he realised was leather.
"I got a matching one for Karupin," said Ryoma, interrupting his thoughts. "He looks better in brown too."
"...uh huh," said Kirihara, still not quite sure what to make of his gift. It was definitely thoughtful; he had said he wanted something to better bring out the brown patches in his new puppy's fur; he hadn't really expected Ryoma to listen though. It was difficult to tell when Ryoma actually picked up on things and when he ignored them completely. Kirihara liked that, for some reason he didn't really understand - something about being close to someone who didn't memorise every detail but acted when it was important was easier to get along with.
It didn't hurt that Ryoma's eyes were a colour Kirihara swore didn't exist in the rainbow, or that he would subconsciously curl closer towards Kirihara the few times they got to lie close together.
"Most people would say thank you," Ryoma muttered.
"Yeah, well. You're not going out with most people," said Kirihara, eyes focused on the game. "You're going out with me."
Ryoma smirked. "My dad's always telling me I have horrible taste."
Kirihara punched him in the knee.
At the sound of loud cheering in front of them, they both looked back at the court; it was now five games to three, Rikkai's lead. Kirihara leaned back, collar held between his fingers as he steadied himself, leaning his head to the side; when lips pressed against his neck, Ryoma leaned forward, closing his eyes. Kirihara kissed him softly, on the neck, on the cheek.
He pulled away, sitting forward once more. Ryoma's face was barely visible beneath the white cap, but Kirihara could still see faint spots of pink just beneath. He twirled the collar in his fingers, looking at it in something akin to fascination.
"If you drop it, I'm not getting you another one," Ryoma threatened, standing up.
"Where are you going?" asked Kirihara, reaching for Ryoma's jacket.
"Juice."
Kirihara tugged hard on the sleeve of Ryoma's Seigaku uniform. Ryoma consequently landed back on top of the stone bench with a loud sort of sound. He glared at Kirihara.
Kirihara reached for his hand. Ryoma's eyes widened, then looked around cautiously.
"Relax," said Kirhara. He turned away for a few seconds, holding Ryoma's hand with one of his own as the other fished inside his bag. He muttered an "oh, there it is" before turning to Ryoma. He placed the cylindrical object in Ryoma's hand and let go.
"You...bought me Ponta?" asked Ryoma.
"That's what you like, right?" asked Kirihara, waving off the thoughtfulness Ryoma was attempting to verbally thrust on him.
"Yeah..."
"Then?" said Kirihara, looked at him. "Drink it. It's not poisoned."
"I like the grape one."
Kirihara rolled his eyes; he grabbed the Ponta can from Ryoma and shoved it in his bag. Almost immediately afterward, his hand emerged again - with three different cans. "Here, take the one you like and stop pouting."
Ryoma carefully selected the grape, popping the top open and draining a fourth of the can. Kirihara picked the orange and tried it, feeling doubtful. It didn't end up tasting half bad, though he didn't see why Ryoma seemed addicted to the stuff. Maybe he'd have to try the grape one next time.
They sat and drank, the game ending within five minutes, the singles matches about to start. Kirihara played in singles two, winning against his opponent. Ryoma wandered off halfway through the game, appearing again just before it ended to see the final three plays.
"Sanada's taking us out for pizza," said Kirihara, wiping his face with a towel. "Wanna come?"
"No," answered Ryoma without hesitation.
It wasn't a surprising answer, but Kirihara tugged on the brim of Ryoma's cap anyway, pulling it far down over his eyes. Ryoma grunted and re-situated it, looking up defiantly. His mouth was set into an angry pout, hands balled at his sides, as if he were about to hit him.
Kirihara didn't bother looking left or right before leaning down, kissing Ryoma softly, tongue running along the inside of Ryoma's mouth for two quick seconds before pulling back.
Ryoma looked thoughtful; then he frowned.
"You taste like orange."
Kirihara hit him again, collar heavy and warmed in his left pocket as he ran to catch up to the rest of the Rikkai team.