(no subject)
^__^
Tezuka receives the message in the middle of Biology but only opens it during lunch, at his desk. Buchou. Play a match with me and Tezuka does not have the number saved but he knows whom it is from, and he replies, thumbs deliberate on the keys, short and sweet, punctuation in all the right places.
-
Ryoma’s phone vibrates gently on his desk, muffled by a stack of papers and he reads the message, and smiles, and agrees that the clay courts are a good place to have a match, and that after school the next day is a good time. He knows it is his buchou - he signs off, Tezuka Kunimitsu - and he thinks this match will be exciting; he hasn’t played anyone seriously for a long time.
-
Tezuka gets there early, too early, and he wonders if he should call Echizen to make sure he’s got the time right - Echizen did say 3pm, near the train station? - but Echizen comes 15 minutes late anyway and they do a few warm up rallies, and start the match. It is a warm day and they are both lost in the game, lost in the rhythm of it all, the back forth left right of their opponents but every now and then Tezuka pivots on the spot, but not for long: from this we know Ryoma has improved.
It is when they stop for a break that Ryoma notices something strange, but he does not dwell on it, and scoops his bottle up from the bench, and takes a long, hard sip. Tezuka is sure his bottle was on the right side when the started the match, but he watches the sweat drip from Echizen’s chin, and he find he can’t concentrate very well anymore.
They continue playing, and Ryoma starts to wonder when his balls curved mid-flight, or why Tezuka’s shots seems to slant in strange directions, and he decides it is heat stroke, and moves forward to tell his buchou so. Tezuka also seems to have the same idea and they end up face-to-face at the net, panting.
“Ryo- Echizen. You. Have a fever,” Tezuka pronounces and puts a hand on Ryoma’s forehead, which is very warm, and tangles his fingers in Ryoma's hair, which is damp, and tilts Ryoma’s head back, which exposes his neck a little, and makes his breath hitch.
“But… Kuni-chan, why are you so far away?” and Ryoma seeks to rectify that problem, and yanks on Tezuka’s shirt, pulling him closer. There still seems to be a yawning gap in between, though, and Ryoma decides that it would be best if he kissed Tezuka, there and then, because really, so much distance was making him dizzy but his buchou kissed him first, and he kissed back, rackets forgotten, hands pulling Tezuka’s body towards his own.
And really, Tezuka thinks, why haven’t I tried this before? But he can’t answer that question because he has suddenly realised how skilled Ryoma’s tongue is, and he can’t get enough.
-
“Ii data.”
“So da nya!”
“Fuji stop taking photos!”
“BURNINGGGG!!!!! FIREEEE!!!!”
“We really shouldn’t be watching this.”
“Why not? Scared, mamushi?”
“You wish.”
-
Fuji agrees with Inui that it is a job well done. If Tezuka were to try calling Ryoma on his mobile it would be Fuji who answered. Inui is, for once, glad that a concoction of his did not cause his victims to turn green in the face - it would have defeated the purpose, Fuji says - but was, as expected, highly successful, the percentage chance of subject interaction having increased exponentially with the temperature and average body heat.
“Saa, Fuji, what do you say we try Momo and Kaido next?”
“^__^”
ENDDD.
IT GOT VAGUELY. UM. LOST, ALONG THE WAY A;SFKDJ;SLAJK IT IS SO SHORT I DON'T EVEN KNOW EXACTLY WHAT CHALLENGE IT COMES UNDER. *CHECKS* AH YES.
CLICHES.