Challenge #17. The weekly challenge returns!
Yes, I know it's a month late. But I did say, if it ever vanished again, I was probably sick and in the hospital. And so I was. Anyway, I have returned now, with much joy to share! Those of you who are new to my flist should enjoy this tradition. Thanks to doumeki and aoyagi for helping me finally get this together.
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Challenge: Calculator, travel, silk
Challenger: tsukizu
Title: All the Way Home
Genre: Romance/fluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuff
Rating: G
Pairing: Hikaru/Akira
Wordcount: 1,018
Description: Hikaru can't stop looking. Touya finally notices.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Nuff said.
***
Touya has recently gotten his hair cut. The fact that Hikaru notices this is a testament to the fact that he probably watches Touya rather more than is strictly healthy. Touya’s hair is always perfectly in place, and he has not changed it since he was twelve-and maybe before that, Hikaru thinks-but the ruler-straight edge of it is just a little neater still today. The glossy, dark curtain of it swings forward to hide Touya’s face as he leans over his notebook, calculator in one hand, pencil in the other.
They’re on their way home from a tournament in Aomori and they haven’t really slept in two days, because Touya has spent every free moment with his textbooks and Hikaru can’t manage to fall asleep in the same hotel room when Touya is working. Even now, the scenery flashes by on the other side of the window, ignored. Hikaru claimed the window seat the moment they boarded the train and watched the moving landscape for awhile, but five minutes later, after Touya has descended into the alien world of algorithms, Hikaru is watching him instead-something he has told himself many times to stop doing, but he can’t seem to help it.
He doesn’t know when Touya, his merciless rival with dragon eyes and a stupid haircut, became Touya, the only thing he can think about, whose stupid hair suddenly looks silky to the touch, with elegant hands and eyes the most fantastic changeable turquoise color. He has always been Touya, the first thing he has ever been serious about, so maybe there hasn’t ever been any other choice but for him to become Touya, the center of all his thoughts and more than a few awkward dreams.
His eternal rival and occasional friend has suddenly, sneakily become beautiful.
He can’t even seem to spoil it with the horrendous clothing he wears-today it’s a crisp silk shirt with a high Mandarin collar in an embarrassing shade of pale pink. Hikaru has long suspected that Touya may, in fact, be colorblind, because no self-respecting man wears a shirt that color even if it was a present from his mother. For that matter, Touya-san did not give him the impression of her obvious sadism the few times he has met her, but he can’t think of any better explanation for the pink shirt.
Perhaps Touya-san had simply wanted a girl very badly.
Touya doesn’t really look like a girl, despite the pink shirt and the long silky hair and the beautiful eyes. He looks like Touya, and Hikaru can’t stop looking at him. And the worst part of it is, Touya doesn’t even appear to have done this to him on purpose. Hikaru is mad at him anyway, because as long as he can stay angry about it, he doesn’t have to do anything about this development. As long as he’s still angry, Touya, who he really wants to beat at Go, does not become Akira, who he would really like to kiss.
Touya looks up from his homework then, discomfort in his eyes. “What?” he says.
“What do you mean, what?” Hikaru says, and he’s probably blushing a little, but Touya’s oblivious and probably colorblind, so he’s most likely safe.
“You’re staring at me,” Touya says in that exasperated why-do-I-put-up-with-you-again? tone of voice. “Is there something on my face?” He lifts one of those elegant hands Hikaru has been admiring to wipe at his cheek. It really isn’t fair, Hikaru thinks. He honestly has no idea.
“Yes,” Hikaru tells him. He reaches out a hand, strokes it over one perfectly clean cheekbone, enjoying the feel of Touya’s warm skin under his fingers, then draws back. Touya is looking at him with very wide eyes, and Hikaru realizes this is probably the first time anyone has ever dared to try something like this. Touya isn’t the kind to touch others, or be touched by them. His own mother calls him Akira-san.
And buys him clothing in various embarrassing shades that were never meant to go together, so maybe she isn’t a good example. But still.
“There’s some here, too,” he says on a whim, and brushes his thumb just over the corner of Touya’s mouth. His rival-friend-whatever sits still and wide-eyed, but he doesn’t flinch away from his touch. “There,” Hikaru says, and returns his hand to his lap where it belongs. “It’s gone now.” Touya keeps staring at him. “What?” Hikaru finally asks, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s definitely blushing now, and it’s more than just a little.
A small smile appears on Touya’s face, the kind that says he’s keeping a secret. Hikaru absolutely refuses to stare, because if he really looks, then in about three seconds he’s going to be kissing Touya Akira and that Absolutely Must Not Happen. “Nothing,” Touya says, and goes back to his homework before Hikaru can embarrass himself. Hikaru goes back to staring out the window. The sun sets. Touya’s reflection is now very clear on the dark glass, so Hikaru stares at that instead. The electric lights are glinting off of his hair; he’s tucked the swing of it behind his ear so his profile is sharply defined against the darkness. He’s still beautiful and he’s still smiling.
A few minutes later, Touya sits up and stretches, then smoothes the pink silk over his shoulders and chest. He puts away his homework and looks at Hikaru for a few moments, that little smile on his face again. Finally, he closes his eyes and puts his head on Hikaru’s shoulder. When Hikaru tenses up, he murmurs, “I’m tired. Do you mind?”
“I don’t mind,” Hikaru tells him, and makes his body relax, because only an idiot refuses when Touya Akira wants to invade his personal space. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”
“Thank you.” Somehow, one of Touya’s hands is in his lap, just on top of Hikaru’s. If either of them curves his fingers just so, they will be holding hands. Hikaru doesn’t dare-quite-but he grins like an idiot all the way home.
***
*grin* There may be a curse on Hikago challenges; I always seem to take way too long to write them. Ah well...
The rules are HERE.
Get requesting!
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Challenge: Calculator, travel, silk
Challenger: tsukizu
Title: All the Way Home
Genre: Romance/fluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuff
Rating: G
Pairing: Hikaru/Akira
Wordcount: 1,018
Description: Hikaru can't stop looking. Touya finally notices.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Nuff said.
***
Touya has recently gotten his hair cut. The fact that Hikaru notices this is a testament to the fact that he probably watches Touya rather more than is strictly healthy. Touya’s hair is always perfectly in place, and he has not changed it since he was twelve-and maybe before that, Hikaru thinks-but the ruler-straight edge of it is just a little neater still today. The glossy, dark curtain of it swings forward to hide Touya’s face as he leans over his notebook, calculator in one hand, pencil in the other.
They’re on their way home from a tournament in Aomori and they haven’t really slept in two days, because Touya has spent every free moment with his textbooks and Hikaru can’t manage to fall asleep in the same hotel room when Touya is working. Even now, the scenery flashes by on the other side of the window, ignored. Hikaru claimed the window seat the moment they boarded the train and watched the moving landscape for awhile, but five minutes later, after Touya has descended into the alien world of algorithms, Hikaru is watching him instead-something he has told himself many times to stop doing, but he can’t seem to help it.
He doesn’t know when Touya, his merciless rival with dragon eyes and a stupid haircut, became Touya, the only thing he can think about, whose stupid hair suddenly looks silky to the touch, with elegant hands and eyes the most fantastic changeable turquoise color. He has always been Touya, the first thing he has ever been serious about, so maybe there hasn’t ever been any other choice but for him to become Touya, the center of all his thoughts and more than a few awkward dreams.
His eternal rival and occasional friend has suddenly, sneakily become beautiful.
He can’t even seem to spoil it with the horrendous clothing he wears-today it’s a crisp silk shirt with a high Mandarin collar in an embarrassing shade of pale pink. Hikaru has long suspected that Touya may, in fact, be colorblind, because no self-respecting man wears a shirt that color even if it was a present from his mother. For that matter, Touya-san did not give him the impression of her obvious sadism the few times he has met her, but he can’t think of any better explanation for the pink shirt.
Perhaps Touya-san had simply wanted a girl very badly.
Touya doesn’t really look like a girl, despite the pink shirt and the long silky hair and the beautiful eyes. He looks like Touya, and Hikaru can’t stop looking at him. And the worst part of it is, Touya doesn’t even appear to have done this to him on purpose. Hikaru is mad at him anyway, because as long as he can stay angry about it, he doesn’t have to do anything about this development. As long as he’s still angry, Touya, who he really wants to beat at Go, does not become Akira, who he would really like to kiss.
Touya looks up from his homework then, discomfort in his eyes. “What?” he says.
“What do you mean, what?” Hikaru says, and he’s probably blushing a little, but Touya’s oblivious and probably colorblind, so he’s most likely safe.
“You’re staring at me,” Touya says in that exasperated why-do-I-put-up-with-you-again? tone of voice. “Is there something on my face?” He lifts one of those elegant hands Hikaru has been admiring to wipe at his cheek. It really isn’t fair, Hikaru thinks. He honestly has no idea.
“Yes,” Hikaru tells him. He reaches out a hand, strokes it over one perfectly clean cheekbone, enjoying the feel of Touya’s warm skin under his fingers, then draws back. Touya is looking at him with very wide eyes, and Hikaru realizes this is probably the first time anyone has ever dared to try something like this. Touya isn’t the kind to touch others, or be touched by them. His own mother calls him Akira-san.
And buys him clothing in various embarrassing shades that were never meant to go together, so maybe she isn’t a good example. But still.
“There’s some here, too,” he says on a whim, and brushes his thumb just over the corner of Touya’s mouth. His rival-friend-whatever sits still and wide-eyed, but he doesn’t flinch away from his touch. “There,” Hikaru says, and returns his hand to his lap where it belongs. “It’s gone now.” Touya keeps staring at him. “What?” Hikaru finally asks, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s definitely blushing now, and it’s more than just a little.
A small smile appears on Touya’s face, the kind that says he’s keeping a secret. Hikaru absolutely refuses to stare, because if he really looks, then in about three seconds he’s going to be kissing Touya Akira and that Absolutely Must Not Happen. “Nothing,” Touya says, and goes back to his homework before Hikaru can embarrass himself. Hikaru goes back to staring out the window. The sun sets. Touya’s reflection is now very clear on the dark glass, so Hikaru stares at that instead. The electric lights are glinting off of his hair; he’s tucked the swing of it behind his ear so his profile is sharply defined against the darkness. He’s still beautiful and he’s still smiling.
A few minutes later, Touya sits up and stretches, then smoothes the pink silk over his shoulders and chest. He puts away his homework and looks at Hikaru for a few moments, that little smile on his face again. Finally, he closes his eyes and puts his head on Hikaru’s shoulder. When Hikaru tenses up, he murmurs, “I’m tired. Do you mind?”
“I don’t mind,” Hikaru tells him, and makes his body relax, because only an idiot refuses when Touya Akira wants to invade his personal space. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”
“Thank you.” Somehow, one of Touya’s hands is in his lap, just on top of Hikaru’s. If either of them curves his fingers just so, they will be holding hands. Hikaru doesn’t dare-quite-but he grins like an idiot all the way home.
***
*grin* There may be a curse on Hikago challenges; I always seem to take way too long to write them. Ah well...
The rules are HERE.
Get requesting!