Pot fic: The language of silence
Title: The language of silence
Author: aviss
Pairing: Inui/Kaidoh
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes the silence speaks louder than words, you just need to undertand its language.
Word count: 1.232
Notes: Right, I never thought I would be writing Pot fic, hell I don't even read it that much… but well, it seems I've done it. This is unbetaed so concrit is more than welcome.
The language of silence
They have a kind of agreement, or at least Kaidoh thinks of it that way. It's very simple and beneficial to both of them.
Inui collects his data, observes and manages Kaidoh's training, and helps him not only to improve his physical condition but also his game. In exchange, Kaidoh answers all his questions about his body and the results of the training, and plays with him as his doubles partner.
Some people might think it's strange to spend so much time together, but it works for them, so Kaidoh doesn't dwell on it.
Maybe it is strange. It's gotten to the point where Kaidoh feels something is missing if he can't hear the soft scratching of pen on paper while he exercises; and on the few occasions he has to finish his training on his own he always feels the overwhelming need to call Inui as soon as he gets home, hoping to catch the noise of his scribbling while he recounts the things Inui might have missed.
Only lately things are changing. He doesn't know exactly when it started, but he's noticed that from time to time the only noises he hears are his own panting breaths and Inui's quiet ones, as if he was just staring at him instead of studying him. He wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't listening for the other sound; but he is, and he has.
That is not the only change, though it's the one that concerns him the most.
Before there were just two things Inui seemed to care about: tennis and studies. Even the time he spent with Kaidoh was always related to one of them. But now--Kaidoh is not sure what's going on, but he's noticed that Inui keeps asking not tennis related questions more and more often.
"So, Kaidoh, what was your opinion of the last Murakami book? I saw you reading it the last semester."
"I noticed that you only had eel nigiri last time we went out for sushi? Don't you like tuna or salmon?"
"Are there any of girls following the Team catching your attention, Kaidoh?"
And then Inui will go back to his furious scribbling, sometimes even muttering things under his breath. It's unnerving, to say the very least. Those long silences in which he knows Inui is looking at him but not taking notes, and then the odd questions and back to the writing things down.
The only explanation Kaidoh can find is that Inui has lost interest in him as a player, and he has to fill his time with something. But that makes no sense, he knows Inui still values him as his doubles partner, and he's still coming up with new ideas to improve his training.
Nothing about their agreement makes sense anymore, but Kaidoh doesn't know what to say to his Sempai.
…
"Kaidoh, play a game with me!" Fuji calls to him from the other side of the court, and Kaidoh gets ready to do it. It's not everyday Fuji requests a match with someone, especially that someone not being Tezuka-buchou or Ryoma.
The game is engaging and challenging, and Kaidoh has to play at his best just to avoid being humiliated. He doesn't like defeat but he knows his limits and Fuji likes to test them.
He is aware, on the edges of his consciousness, of Inui watching the match, and he swears he can hear that constant scribbling. Something like relief blooms in his chest at the thought that Inui still has something to write about him.
When the match is over and he's walking to shake his sempai's hand he notices the notebook. It's green, and it says Fuji on the cover. Kaidoh's notebook is blue, and has been blue for the past few months. Even if just for a second, he is unable to hide his disappointment.
Fuji notices--he always seems to notice--and follows his gaze, "I wouldn't worry too much if I were you, Kaidoh." And he leaves after giving his hand a soft squeeze, leaving him more puzzled than before.
He goes to change clothes immediately after that, ignoring the fact that Inui is trying to catch his attention.
What was Fuji trying to say with that? He's always found difficult to understand him, and now he's not in the mood to try to decipher his words. He has other things to think about.
Like the fact that Inui appears to have stopped collecting data about him. Does that mean they don't need the training sessions together anymore? For some reason that thought is depressing.
"Kaidoh!" Inui is waiting for him when he leaves the locker room, and falls into step by his side at the mute acknowledge from Kaidoh.
They walk in silence for some time, and it feels awkward and full of tension, though they have spent so much time together in silence it's ridiculous to feel that way.
"Inui--"
"Kaidoh--"
They begin at the same time, and both stop abruptly and signal to the other to continue.
"You first--"
"Inui-sempai, you--"
Again they stop, something like a smile tugging at Inui's lips. Kaidoh closes his mouth decided to let Inui have his say. Nothing happens for a minute, and the silence again grows uncomfortable and heavy. Kaidoh risks a look at his Sempai, and wonders why he is blushing and resolutely staring at his shoes.
Whatever it is he wants to tell him, it doesn't seem easy to say.
Kaidoh's guess is that he wants to stop their training together. He doesn’t know why the idea bothers him so much, but seeing Inui so uncharacteristically hesitant bothers him even more, so he decides to say it himself.
"Inui-sempai, if you don't want to--"
"Kaidoh, are you free this Sunday? Do you want to meet?"
Kaidoh stares at him, wondering if he has heard correctly. Inui wants to meet on Sunday? That's strange; it's the training-free day Inui insisted on.
"For more training?" he asks. And he can see the blush on Inui's face deepening.
"No," he answers still not looking at him.
Kaidoh thinks about it for a second; part of his mind is trying to figure out the reason why Inui is asking him out like that while the rest of his mind just agrees on spending more time with his Sempai.
"You mean like a--"
"Yes," Inui answers before he can finish his question.
"Oh."
And again they fall silent except for the quiet muttering coming from Inui that Kaidoh is sure he's not supposed to be able to hear, and Kaidoh unconsciously searches for that sound that usually calms him. He doesn't know why his heart is pounding in his chest, or why he feels his face burning, but he does know that if he could listen to that familiar scratch of pen on paper he would calm down enough to give a coherent answer.
"Yes," he hears himself answering before his mind can catch up with his mouth.
Inui's head snaps up and he looks at Kaidoh, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth again.
They resume their walk, and Kaidoh thinks he knows now what those silences that used to unnerve him before are about. Apparently, not everything is about the data.
Kaidoh is sure he's going to start listening for them from now on.
…
Author: aviss
Pairing: Inui/Kaidoh
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes the silence speaks louder than words, you just need to undertand its language.
Word count: 1.232
Notes: Right, I never thought I would be writing Pot fic, hell I don't even read it that much… but well, it seems I've done it. This is unbetaed so concrit is more than welcome.
The language of silence
They have a kind of agreement, or at least Kaidoh thinks of it that way. It's very simple and beneficial to both of them.
Inui collects his data, observes and manages Kaidoh's training, and helps him not only to improve his physical condition but also his game. In exchange, Kaidoh answers all his questions about his body and the results of the training, and plays with him as his doubles partner.
Some people might think it's strange to spend so much time together, but it works for them, so Kaidoh doesn't dwell on it.
Maybe it is strange. It's gotten to the point where Kaidoh feels something is missing if he can't hear the soft scratching of pen on paper while he exercises; and on the few occasions he has to finish his training on his own he always feels the overwhelming need to call Inui as soon as he gets home, hoping to catch the noise of his scribbling while he recounts the things Inui might have missed.
Only lately things are changing. He doesn't know exactly when it started, but he's noticed that from time to time the only noises he hears are his own panting breaths and Inui's quiet ones, as if he was just staring at him instead of studying him. He wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't listening for the other sound; but he is, and he has.
That is not the only change, though it's the one that concerns him the most.
Before there were just two things Inui seemed to care about: tennis and studies. Even the time he spent with Kaidoh was always related to one of them. But now--Kaidoh is not sure what's going on, but he's noticed that Inui keeps asking not tennis related questions more and more often.
"So, Kaidoh, what was your opinion of the last Murakami book? I saw you reading it the last semester."
"I noticed that you only had eel nigiri last time we went out for sushi? Don't you like tuna or salmon?"
"Are there any of girls following the Team catching your attention, Kaidoh?"
And then Inui will go back to his furious scribbling, sometimes even muttering things under his breath. It's unnerving, to say the very least. Those long silences in which he knows Inui is looking at him but not taking notes, and then the odd questions and back to the writing things down.
The only explanation Kaidoh can find is that Inui has lost interest in him as a player, and he has to fill his time with something. But that makes no sense, he knows Inui still values him as his doubles partner, and he's still coming up with new ideas to improve his training.
Nothing about their agreement makes sense anymore, but Kaidoh doesn't know what to say to his Sempai.
…
"Kaidoh, play a game with me!" Fuji calls to him from the other side of the court, and Kaidoh gets ready to do it. It's not everyday Fuji requests a match with someone, especially that someone not being Tezuka-buchou or Ryoma.
The game is engaging and challenging, and Kaidoh has to play at his best just to avoid being humiliated. He doesn't like defeat but he knows his limits and Fuji likes to test them.
He is aware, on the edges of his consciousness, of Inui watching the match, and he swears he can hear that constant scribbling. Something like relief blooms in his chest at the thought that Inui still has something to write about him.
When the match is over and he's walking to shake his sempai's hand he notices the notebook. It's green, and it says Fuji on the cover. Kaidoh's notebook is blue, and has been blue for the past few months. Even if just for a second, he is unable to hide his disappointment.
Fuji notices--he always seems to notice--and follows his gaze, "I wouldn't worry too much if I were you, Kaidoh." And he leaves after giving his hand a soft squeeze, leaving him more puzzled than before.
He goes to change clothes immediately after that, ignoring the fact that Inui is trying to catch his attention.
What was Fuji trying to say with that? He's always found difficult to understand him, and now he's not in the mood to try to decipher his words. He has other things to think about.
Like the fact that Inui appears to have stopped collecting data about him. Does that mean they don't need the training sessions together anymore? For some reason that thought is depressing.
"Kaidoh!" Inui is waiting for him when he leaves the locker room, and falls into step by his side at the mute acknowledge from Kaidoh.
They walk in silence for some time, and it feels awkward and full of tension, though they have spent so much time together in silence it's ridiculous to feel that way.
"Inui--"
"Kaidoh--"
They begin at the same time, and both stop abruptly and signal to the other to continue.
"You first--"
"Inui-sempai, you--"
Again they stop, something like a smile tugging at Inui's lips. Kaidoh closes his mouth decided to let Inui have his say. Nothing happens for a minute, and the silence again grows uncomfortable and heavy. Kaidoh risks a look at his Sempai, and wonders why he is blushing and resolutely staring at his shoes.
Whatever it is he wants to tell him, it doesn't seem easy to say.
Kaidoh's guess is that he wants to stop their training together. He doesn’t know why the idea bothers him so much, but seeing Inui so uncharacteristically hesitant bothers him even more, so he decides to say it himself.
"Inui-sempai, if you don't want to--"
"Kaidoh, are you free this Sunday? Do you want to meet?"
Kaidoh stares at him, wondering if he has heard correctly. Inui wants to meet on Sunday? That's strange; it's the training-free day Inui insisted on.
"For more training?" he asks. And he can see the blush on Inui's face deepening.
"No," he answers still not looking at him.
Kaidoh thinks about it for a second; part of his mind is trying to figure out the reason why Inui is asking him out like that while the rest of his mind just agrees on spending more time with his Sempai.
"You mean like a--"
"Yes," Inui answers before he can finish his question.
"Oh."
And again they fall silent except for the quiet muttering coming from Inui that Kaidoh is sure he's not supposed to be able to hear, and Kaidoh unconsciously searches for that sound that usually calms him. He doesn't know why his heart is pounding in his chest, or why he feels his face burning, but he does know that if he could listen to that familiar scratch of pen on paper he would calm down enough to give a coherent answer.
"Yes," he hears himself answering before his mind can catch up with his mouth.
Inui's head snaps up and he looks at Kaidoh, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth again.
They resume their walk, and Kaidoh thinks he knows now what those silences that used to unnerve him before are about. Apparently, not everything is about the data.
Kaidoh is sure he's going to start listening for them from now on.
…