(no subject)
Title: Nothing You Do
Fandom: Prince of Tennis.
Featuring: SanaYuki, damn it all.
Genre: Fluff/romance.
Words: ~ 1,560.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: Fluff and a tiiiny touch of language. Sap.
Notes: Inspired by That's When I Love You, by Aslyn. It's kind of a songfic; a six-drabble set with a few lines from the lyrics before each one.
When you have to look away
When you don't have much to say
Comforted by the familiar dull thump of ball on clay and twang of catgut, a very tired Seiichi found himself struggling to keep from nodding off. Over though they were, the hospital visits and surgery had certainly taken their toll, and despite himself, the captain was leaning gradually toward his friend on the bench beside him.
Gen'ichirou was entirely absorbed in Yagyuu and Yanagi's match, eyes following the ball in its zigzagging path from one racket to the other. He might have stayed that way, in fact, if it weren't for the gentle weight of another person on his shoulder. Glancing down in surprise, he found the apparently-dozing captain of Rikkai propped up against him, and became briefly flustered. Should he wake him? Or let him sleep? Should he carry him to the clubhouse? Or would that be - too - intimate? Surely, the other regulars would have something to say about it.
His questions were answered when Seiichi fluttered his lashes and looked up from beneath them, smiling. "You don't mind if I sleep here, do you, Gen'ichirou?"
Strangely, opening his mouth didn't seem to coax forth words the way it normally might. Gen'ichirou closed his mouth and shook his head after a moment, averting his eyes.
Letting his soft smile turn fleetingly to a grin, the younger boy snuggled more comfortably into his vice-captain. It was good that Gen'ichirou didn't mind, he mused, because he certainly smelled better than the couch in the clubhouse.
To hear you stumble when you speak
Or see you walk with two left feet
The first time Seiichi ever said 'I love you' to Gen'ichirou was in their first year of highschool. They were on their way back from Seigaku's tennis courts one afternoon, where they'd been playing some practice matches with their old rivals. He said it offhandedly, laughing, but he meant it. Next thing he knew, he was walking alone, and his friend was in a heap on the walkway five feet behind. Several heartbeats passed as Seiichi stared back at the older boy, and eventually, he asked guilelessly, "Did you just fall down, Gen'ichirou?"
All-too-aware of his teammates' laughter from their 'safe distance' (he could certainly serve a very violent ball that far), Gen'ichirou moved to stand, trying to keep his face turned away from his former captain. His cheeks were burning. "A-ah... I'm... fine, ah... b-bu- Yukimura." He'd never spoken a longer sentence in his life.
Seiichi hid a smile behind his jacket sleeve. "If you say so."
When you're mad because you lost a game
Forget I'm waiting in the rain
This, Gen'ichirou decided, was the longest and most irritating match he'd ever been stupid enough to agree to. To make matters worse, he was on the losing end of it, and the losing was painful and slow. Tezuka was playing right-handed, and had been the whole time. Now it was raining, and if Gen'ichirou was any judge, around ten o'clock at night. They were well into the tiebreak, and Gen'ichirou was infuriated. He was sure Tezuka was dropping points on purpose, and if the ex-captain had somehow picked up Fuji's sadistic streak, he wouldn't be surprised.
One more dropped point might have had Gen'ichirou snapping at him to take his points already and get the hell lost, but Tezuka seemed to know his limits. He never switched hands, taking two points in depressingly quick succession from his fellow first-year, and met him at the net without any apparent balking.
"Thank you," he said, shaking Gen'ichirou's hand firmly. "It was a good game." Gen'ichirou couldn't tell if that was sweat or rain on the other boy's face, but his breathing was just as laboured as Gen'ichirou's own. That was when he saw it: Tezuka was just as exhausted, just as frustrated as he was, and he'd beaten him not by a mile, but by an inch. Tezuka hadn't been toying with him; he'd been pushing his own limits. A wave of shame washed over Gen'ichirou, and he released his rival's hand and turned, walking away wordlessly.
Tezuka had been evenly matched with him through the whole game, trading ace for ace, return for return. And in the end, he'd overcome his boundaries again, if only by a little bit, while Gen'ichirou was busy lolling in his anger. Gritting his teeth, he slung his bag over his shoulder and began to run from the street court, trying to drown out his own thoughts in the sound of his heartbeat, his breathing, his footfalls, the rainfall.
Not even half a block away, he felt a hand grab his shoulder and spun mid-step. Wide cobalt eyes and rain-soaked sapphire tresses greeted him, and suddenly, Gen'ichirou had guilt to combat the shame. "Yukimura!" He braced himself for the tirade to come; forgetting Seiichi had severe consequences, particularly when he'd been waiting patiently for you in the pouring rain.
"So," Seiichi said, evidently unfazed by the dash to catch up with his companion, "did you finally figure out that he was playing for real, or are you just pissed that he beat you?"
When you turn to hide your eyes
Because the movie made you cry
When he first heard the sound for what it was, Seiichi swore his heart stopped. When he heard it a second time, he was torn between letting on that he'd heard it by pausing the DVD player and possibly missing a heart-wrenching moment or two of Dead Poets Society by glancing over surreptitiously. In the end, he did neither.
"Gen'ichirou, are you crying?" he asked in the levellest voice he could manage, given his own emotionally-wrought state.
A soft gasp sounded from beside him, and Seiichi finally did pause the movie. He looked over just in time to see Gen'ichirou turning a clearly tear-streaked face away from him, wiping at his eyes. Leaning over, Seiichi placed a kiss to the other boy's temple, but he knew better than to linger. Men like Gen'ichirou were not to be trifled with when crying, he was sure, so he picked up the remote, rubbing at his own eyes, and settled for making him cry some more.
When you can't quite match your clothes
Or when you laugh at your own jokes
"You really mean to tell me that you're wearing... that?"
"What's wrong with this?" Gen'ichirou looked faintly exasperated.
Seiichi crinkled his nose. "It's... God, I don't know. It's like something that crawled out of the forties. More than that, I'm inclined to think you're colourblind."
Gen'ichirou rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely over his shoulder. "Marui's colourblind; at least I don't look like a mango." He snorted lightly and turned so that Seiichi could see past him to the loud ensemble Marui had put together. "Whoever told him those colours go well together ought to be shot."
"That's it. Get in here." Seiichi reached out for Gen'ichirou's arm and dragged him into the house, shaking his head. "Come on, all of you!" he called back. "Honestly, must I do everything? I even have to dress you!"
Sputtering slightly, Gen'ichirou twisted his wrist in the younger boy's alarmingly-iron grip. "You don't have to dress anyone!"
When you forget that we had a date
Or that look you get when you show up late
It was six minutes to eight and the waitress had brought him three glasses of water, now. She smiled the first time, asked the second, and looked sympathetic the third. Gen'ichirou should have been here at seven-thirty, he'd explained, and she'd shaken her head, offering a small, knowing smile.
Seiichi was irritated, but not rightfully at her. He was irritated at the way he kept himself here. Five minutes was one thing; ten was cause for a little cold-shoulder, but he shouldn't still be here. But 'I'll wait fifteen minutes' turned into 'just five minutes more' and then 'ten minutes and I'll be out of here,' and for whatever ungodly reason, here he was, still.
At four minutes past eight, a ruffled-looking Gen'ichirou hurried in the door and came to Seiichi, his eyes already pleading. (It was amazing, how emotional his eyes were, even when the rest of his face was set in stone.) He sat across from the smaller boy, brows knit together and preceding his apology.
"Seiichi, I'm sorry. I got caught up watching those tapes that Renji brought me of our matches with the regulars. I must have rewatched them six or seven times; I hardly realized it." The waitress was back, smiling, and setting a glass of water in front of Gen'ichirou. "I just can't believe you got beaten so... single-handedly. I keep thinking that there has to be something...."
Gen'ichirou looked almost forlorn. In spite of all his solid intentions of chewing the older boy out when and if he got there, Seiichi found himself melting from the inside out. It was touching, realizing that after all these years - all these matches, all these hospital visits - Gen'ichirou still thought Seiichi was invincible, somehow.
"Shut up," he finally said. "The waitress is trying to take your order, you big stupid loser." The expression Gen'ichirou wore after that confirmed Seiichi's suspicions: no one had, in fact, ever called Gen'ichirou a 'big stupid loser' before.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis.
Featuring: SanaYuki, damn it all.
Genre: Fluff/romance.
Words: ~ 1,560.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: Fluff and a tiiiny touch of language. Sap.
Notes: Inspired by That's When I Love You, by Aslyn. It's kind of a songfic; a six-drabble set with a few lines from the lyrics before each one.
When you have to look away
When you don't have much to say
Comforted by the familiar dull thump of ball on clay and twang of catgut, a very tired Seiichi found himself struggling to keep from nodding off. Over though they were, the hospital visits and surgery had certainly taken their toll, and despite himself, the captain was leaning gradually toward his friend on the bench beside him.
Gen'ichirou was entirely absorbed in Yagyuu and Yanagi's match, eyes following the ball in its zigzagging path from one racket to the other. He might have stayed that way, in fact, if it weren't for the gentle weight of another person on his shoulder. Glancing down in surprise, he found the apparently-dozing captain of Rikkai propped up against him, and became briefly flustered. Should he wake him? Or let him sleep? Should he carry him to the clubhouse? Or would that be - too - intimate? Surely, the other regulars would have something to say about it.
His questions were answered when Seiichi fluttered his lashes and looked up from beneath them, smiling. "You don't mind if I sleep here, do you, Gen'ichirou?"
Strangely, opening his mouth didn't seem to coax forth words the way it normally might. Gen'ichirou closed his mouth and shook his head after a moment, averting his eyes.
Letting his soft smile turn fleetingly to a grin, the younger boy snuggled more comfortably into his vice-captain. It was good that Gen'ichirou didn't mind, he mused, because he certainly smelled better than the couch in the clubhouse.
To hear you stumble when you speak
Or see you walk with two left feet
The first time Seiichi ever said 'I love you' to Gen'ichirou was in their first year of highschool. They were on their way back from Seigaku's tennis courts one afternoon, where they'd been playing some practice matches with their old rivals. He said it offhandedly, laughing, but he meant it. Next thing he knew, he was walking alone, and his friend was in a heap on the walkway five feet behind. Several heartbeats passed as Seiichi stared back at the older boy, and eventually, he asked guilelessly, "Did you just fall down, Gen'ichirou?"
All-too-aware of his teammates' laughter from their 'safe distance' (he could certainly serve a very violent ball that far), Gen'ichirou moved to stand, trying to keep his face turned away from his former captain. His cheeks were burning. "A-ah... I'm... fine, ah... b-bu- Yukimura." He'd never spoken a longer sentence in his life.
Seiichi hid a smile behind his jacket sleeve. "If you say so."
When you're mad because you lost a game
Forget I'm waiting in the rain
This, Gen'ichirou decided, was the longest and most irritating match he'd ever been stupid enough to agree to. To make matters worse, he was on the losing end of it, and the losing was painful and slow. Tezuka was playing right-handed, and had been the whole time. Now it was raining, and if Gen'ichirou was any judge, around ten o'clock at night. They were well into the tiebreak, and Gen'ichirou was infuriated. He was sure Tezuka was dropping points on purpose, and if the ex-captain had somehow picked up Fuji's sadistic streak, he wouldn't be surprised.
One more dropped point might have had Gen'ichirou snapping at him to take his points already and get the hell lost, but Tezuka seemed to know his limits. He never switched hands, taking two points in depressingly quick succession from his fellow first-year, and met him at the net without any apparent balking.
"Thank you," he said, shaking Gen'ichirou's hand firmly. "It was a good game." Gen'ichirou couldn't tell if that was sweat or rain on the other boy's face, but his breathing was just as laboured as Gen'ichirou's own. That was when he saw it: Tezuka was just as exhausted, just as frustrated as he was, and he'd beaten him not by a mile, but by an inch. Tezuka hadn't been toying with him; he'd been pushing his own limits. A wave of shame washed over Gen'ichirou, and he released his rival's hand and turned, walking away wordlessly.
Tezuka had been evenly matched with him through the whole game, trading ace for ace, return for return. And in the end, he'd overcome his boundaries again, if only by a little bit, while Gen'ichirou was busy lolling in his anger. Gritting his teeth, he slung his bag over his shoulder and began to run from the street court, trying to drown out his own thoughts in the sound of his heartbeat, his breathing, his footfalls, the rainfall.
Not even half a block away, he felt a hand grab his shoulder and spun mid-step. Wide cobalt eyes and rain-soaked sapphire tresses greeted him, and suddenly, Gen'ichirou had guilt to combat the shame. "Yukimura!" He braced himself for the tirade to come; forgetting Seiichi had severe consequences, particularly when he'd been waiting patiently for you in the pouring rain.
"So," Seiichi said, evidently unfazed by the dash to catch up with his companion, "did you finally figure out that he was playing for real, or are you just pissed that he beat you?"
When you turn to hide your eyes
Because the movie made you cry
When he first heard the sound for what it was, Seiichi swore his heart stopped. When he heard it a second time, he was torn between letting on that he'd heard it by pausing the DVD player and possibly missing a heart-wrenching moment or two of Dead Poets Society by glancing over surreptitiously. In the end, he did neither.
"Gen'ichirou, are you crying?" he asked in the levellest voice he could manage, given his own emotionally-wrought state.
A soft gasp sounded from beside him, and Seiichi finally did pause the movie. He looked over just in time to see Gen'ichirou turning a clearly tear-streaked face away from him, wiping at his eyes. Leaning over, Seiichi placed a kiss to the other boy's temple, but he knew better than to linger. Men like Gen'ichirou were not to be trifled with when crying, he was sure, so he picked up the remote, rubbing at his own eyes, and settled for making him cry some more.
When you can't quite match your clothes
Or when you laugh at your own jokes
"You really mean to tell me that you're wearing... that?"
"What's wrong with this?" Gen'ichirou looked faintly exasperated.
Seiichi crinkled his nose. "It's... God, I don't know. It's like something that crawled out of the forties. More than that, I'm inclined to think you're colourblind."
Gen'ichirou rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely over his shoulder. "Marui's colourblind; at least I don't look like a mango." He snorted lightly and turned so that Seiichi could see past him to the loud ensemble Marui had put together. "Whoever told him those colours go well together ought to be shot."
"That's it. Get in here." Seiichi reached out for Gen'ichirou's arm and dragged him into the house, shaking his head. "Come on, all of you!" he called back. "Honestly, must I do everything? I even have to dress you!"
Sputtering slightly, Gen'ichirou twisted his wrist in the younger boy's alarmingly-iron grip. "You don't have to dress anyone!"
When you forget that we had a date
Or that look you get when you show up late
It was six minutes to eight and the waitress had brought him three glasses of water, now. She smiled the first time, asked the second, and looked sympathetic the third. Gen'ichirou should have been here at seven-thirty, he'd explained, and she'd shaken her head, offering a small, knowing smile.
Seiichi was irritated, but not rightfully at her. He was irritated at the way he kept himself here. Five minutes was one thing; ten was cause for a little cold-shoulder, but he shouldn't still be here. But 'I'll wait fifteen minutes' turned into 'just five minutes more' and then 'ten minutes and I'll be out of here,' and for whatever ungodly reason, here he was, still.
At four minutes past eight, a ruffled-looking Gen'ichirou hurried in the door and came to Seiichi, his eyes already pleading. (It was amazing, how emotional his eyes were, even when the rest of his face was set in stone.) He sat across from the smaller boy, brows knit together and preceding his apology.
"Seiichi, I'm sorry. I got caught up watching those tapes that Renji brought me of our matches with the regulars. I must have rewatched them six or seven times; I hardly realized it." The waitress was back, smiling, and setting a glass of water in front of Gen'ichirou. "I just can't believe you got beaten so... single-handedly. I keep thinking that there has to be something...."
Gen'ichirou looked almost forlorn. In spite of all his solid intentions of chewing the older boy out when and if he got there, Seiichi found himself melting from the inside out. It was touching, realizing that after all these years - all these matches, all these hospital visits - Gen'ichirou still thought Seiichi was invincible, somehow.
"Shut up," he finally said. "The waitress is trying to take your order, you big stupid loser." The expression Gen'ichirou wore after that confirmed Seiichi's suspicions: no one had, in fact, ever called Gen'ichirou a 'big stupid loser' before.