Meki/Yuku - Original fiction - #11 - Game
Title: Three Cheers for What?
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #11 - Game
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Meki is a cock-rotting piece of worthless Something In French and his husband is ultimately aware that the cat will disagree if Yuku attempts to forcefeed Meki to it.
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.
Notes: References this. Yes, I started writing this years back. Yes, I'm only just now finishing it. Hush. Please be aware: If you are New to this 'verse, this will offend you. Possibly quite.
It started with Meki saying, "I demand a rematch."
No, actually, it started twenty-three years ago when Meki, wearing jeans and swearing he'd never played tennis in his life, defeated him, even though he was just sober enough to still have no coordination. So Yuku, swearing it was an accident, broke his nose.
And Laoidheach admonished him for breaking another friend's nose, and later Yuku was trying to help his own son's stalker issue by saying that no, see, he'd been stalked once, and it was all right, because Yuku had broken his nose in a tennis match for revenge.
And Meki had overheard that. There'd been a brief battle, which neither had really won, but later, examining a bruise, Meki had said, "I demand a rematch."
And now they were on a tennis court.
They were both in jeans, which, if Yuku was to go by the idea that his husband had lied and was actually some fucking tennis genius, just put Yuku at more of a disadvantage.
On the other hand, Yuku had spent the last couple decades, say, scrambling up onto roofs and jumping off them later at a run. Meki had written some romance novels and killed a demon lord in an explosion of blood and fire.
Whatever.
It was too hot for this, even though it was almost dark, and honestly neither of them were sure they were allowed to be stealing a secondary school tennis court, especially not now that a small crowd had gathered to watch them in mostly confusion.
No authorities, however.
Yuku kept hitting the ball, and Meki kept returning it like this wasn't even work for a man who had been half-paralysed not even that many years ago, while Yuku dripped sweat and listened to bones he'd broken before crack. It was almost too hard to even see the ball, but the three or four people standing around were unmistakably on Meki's side.
Meki did not stop smiling once.
Yuku would break his skull.
Er. Yes. Yuku was plotting how to go about doing that when it occurred to him that his novelist was only getting farther ahead of him while he seethed.
He snapped back to attention not especially in time to see the ball before it slammed into his nose with what could've been all the weight of a six foot four lunatic behind it. He fell from the sheer pain about the same time the weight of a six foot four lunatic did land on him, blood already pouring into his open mouth before he could crack open his eyes to see Meki smiling down at him.
He spit out blood without bothering to turn away. Meki barely blinked.
Rotten. Bastard.
The group was disappearing very, very quickly; Yuku didn't even have to start shouting before they were all gone.
"You broke my fucking nose, you ungrateful cock-rotting piece of worthless-" Yuku sat up, shoving Meki away from him, forced to stop speaking in the hopes of not choking on his own blood.
"I've never seen your nose bleed so much," Meki said pleasantly. He dodged Yuku's fist with far too much ease.
Yuku's eyes were watering, in his defense; it was difficult to see even such an enormous target as his husband.
"I will-" Yuku began, spitting out more blood, this time on the ground beside him and not on Meki, "-unleash all the power of all the gods in their graves-" His body jerked to the side without his permission.
"I think," Meki interrupted, standing up and hauling Yuku with him, pulling back Yuku's head and wrapping something cloth or other-Yuku couldn't see what-around his nose, "that you are losing too much blood. Perhaps a doctor is in order."
Yuku wrenched one of his hands loose from Meki and smashed it half-blindly into Meki's shoulder. "Motherfucker." The next few sentences were terribly garbled French.
"No doctor, then?"
"My nose is fucking broken!" Yuku stopped walking, swaying, to kick Meki's ankle. Meki didn't even seem to notice. He only frowned and threw Yuku over his shoulder.
"Quit moving. You'll injure me," Meki said, narrowing his eyes, "and all these nice people on the streets tonight will call domestic abuse," he pinned Yuku's legs down with one arm, "and that never ends well for us."
"I will kill you. I will have your body torn apart and fed to my cat!"
"Also," Meki said, paying him no mind whatsoever, "I won."
Yuku cracked his glasses, but overall, Meki thought, it was worth it.
Fandom: Original fiction.
Characters: Meki/Yuku
Theme: #11 - Game
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Meki is a cock-rotting piece of worthless Something In French and his husband is ultimately aware that the cat will disagree if Yuku attempts to forcefeed Meki to it.
Disclaimer: Meki and Yuku are mine. It is advised they remain mine, because they're really just two sick bastards I can't imagine anyone else wanting.
Notes: References this. Yes, I started writing this years back. Yes, I'm only just now finishing it. Hush. Please be aware: If you are New to this 'verse, this will offend you. Possibly quite.
It started with Meki saying, "I demand a rematch."
No, actually, it started twenty-three years ago when Meki, wearing jeans and swearing he'd never played tennis in his life, defeated him, even though he was just sober enough to still have no coordination. So Yuku, swearing it was an accident, broke his nose.
And Laoidheach admonished him for breaking another friend's nose, and later Yuku was trying to help his own son's stalker issue by saying that no, see, he'd been stalked once, and it was all right, because Yuku had broken his nose in a tennis match for revenge.
And Meki had overheard that. There'd been a brief battle, which neither had really won, but later, examining a bruise, Meki had said, "I demand a rematch."
And now they were on a tennis court.
They were both in jeans, which, if Yuku was to go by the idea that his husband had lied and was actually some fucking tennis genius, just put Yuku at more of a disadvantage.
On the other hand, Yuku had spent the last couple decades, say, scrambling up onto roofs and jumping off them later at a run. Meki had written some romance novels and killed a demon lord in an explosion of blood and fire.
Whatever.
It was too hot for this, even though it was almost dark, and honestly neither of them were sure they were allowed to be stealing a secondary school tennis court, especially not now that a small crowd had gathered to watch them in mostly confusion.
No authorities, however.
Yuku kept hitting the ball, and Meki kept returning it like this wasn't even work for a man who had been half-paralysed not even that many years ago, while Yuku dripped sweat and listened to bones he'd broken before crack. It was almost too hard to even see the ball, but the three or four people standing around were unmistakably on Meki's side.
Meki did not stop smiling once.
Yuku would break his skull.
Er. Yes. Yuku was plotting how to go about doing that when it occurred to him that his novelist was only getting farther ahead of him while he seethed.
He snapped back to attention not especially in time to see the ball before it slammed into his nose with what could've been all the weight of a six foot four lunatic behind it. He fell from the sheer pain about the same time the weight of a six foot four lunatic did land on him, blood already pouring into his open mouth before he could crack open his eyes to see Meki smiling down at him.
He spit out blood without bothering to turn away. Meki barely blinked.
Rotten. Bastard.
The group was disappearing very, very quickly; Yuku didn't even have to start shouting before they were all gone.
"You broke my fucking nose, you ungrateful cock-rotting piece of worthless-" Yuku sat up, shoving Meki away from him, forced to stop speaking in the hopes of not choking on his own blood.
"I've never seen your nose bleed so much," Meki said pleasantly. He dodged Yuku's fist with far too much ease.
Yuku's eyes were watering, in his defense; it was difficult to see even such an enormous target as his husband.
"I will-" Yuku began, spitting out more blood, this time on the ground beside him and not on Meki, "-unleash all the power of all the gods in their graves-" His body jerked to the side without his permission.
"I think," Meki interrupted, standing up and hauling Yuku with him, pulling back Yuku's head and wrapping something cloth or other-Yuku couldn't see what-around his nose, "that you are losing too much blood. Perhaps a doctor is in order."
Yuku wrenched one of his hands loose from Meki and smashed it half-blindly into Meki's shoulder. "Motherfucker." The next few sentences were terribly garbled French.
"No doctor, then?"
"My nose is fucking broken!" Yuku stopped walking, swaying, to kick Meki's ankle. Meki didn't even seem to notice. He only frowned and threw Yuku over his shoulder.
"Quit moving. You'll injure me," Meki said, narrowing his eyes, "and all these nice people on the streets tonight will call domestic abuse," he pinned Yuku's legs down with one arm, "and that never ends well for us."
"I will kill you. I will have your body torn apart and fed to my cat!"
"Also," Meki said, paying him no mind whatsoever, "I won."
Yuku cracked his glasses, but overall, Meki thought, it was worth it.