Two Kings [Prince of Tennis, Tezuka & Yukimura]
Tezuka and Yukimura play a match. Set either after the tennis season of first year. Ship or gen, whatever you like! 440 words, originally from here (LJ)/here (DW).
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two kings
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"A match," he says into the phone in response to the light breathing. Yukimura never says hello when he sees Tezuka's number appear on his phone, he simply waits.
"Now?" Yukimura asks, seeing his eyebrow and the corner of his lip both twitch upwards a little in amusement as he looks into the mirror. Perhaps there is more to the mirror being above the phone-table in the hallway that just good Feng shui.
"Now." Tezuka insists, and hangs up. He did not pick up the habit from Yukimura, it simply began with him.
He still refers to them as matches, Yukimura thinks to himself, and smiles. They never keep score anymore. There is so much more to tennis than who has hoarded the most points, for them at least. They can appreciate competition and winning for the sake of being the winner, but between them they can drop those tensions and play for the sake of loving the game.
Tezuka does not wonder; he does not try to keep track of the points and surmise as to who in fact has the advantage, he does not think about whether it is safe, or right, or wise. He definitely does not think about whether this is his best play, whether Yukimura's unmatchable skill is improving him, or whether they are just wearing down one another's corners.
Languishing at the same level, honing skills, complacency; he does not think about any of it.
He sits on the bench when they are past exhausted, places his hands on his knees to keep them from knocking together. The court lights will probably be turned off any minute now. Yukimura steps across just once so that he is behind Tezuka, uses his towel to wipe the sweat away from the back of Tezuka's neck. His index finger follows its path across from right to left.
Tezuka wants to shiver, but does not. Cannot?
"Your Sternocleidomastoideus twitches a little when you aim to return a shot to the very corner on the right." Yukimura says, reaching around a little to run a finger along said muscle to see if he can get a reaction himself. "Our biology teacher is terribly enthusiastic about athletes; he seems to think we'll be fascinated by how our bodies work simply because we can manipulate them in ways others can't."
It could only have been blander if Yukimura had said something about the weather, but the sky is dark now. And if the night air holds a chill, Tezuka cannot feel it through the shiver he does release this time.
Sometimes it feels as though whatever it is between he and Yukimura, it is the most intimate thing in the world.
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This entry was originally posted here on Dreamwidth. Comment there if you'd prefer!
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two kings
-
"A match," he says into the phone in response to the light breathing. Yukimura never says hello when he sees Tezuka's number appear on his phone, he simply waits.
"Now?" Yukimura asks, seeing his eyebrow and the corner of his lip both twitch upwards a little in amusement as he looks into the mirror. Perhaps there is more to the mirror being above the phone-table in the hallway that just good Feng shui.
"Now." Tezuka insists, and hangs up. He did not pick up the habit from Yukimura, it simply began with him.
He still refers to them as matches, Yukimura thinks to himself, and smiles. They never keep score anymore. There is so much more to tennis than who has hoarded the most points, for them at least. They can appreciate competition and winning for the sake of being the winner, but between them they can drop those tensions and play for the sake of loving the game.
Tezuka does not wonder; he does not try to keep track of the points and surmise as to who in fact has the advantage, he does not think about whether it is safe, or right, or wise. He definitely does not think about whether this is his best play, whether Yukimura's unmatchable skill is improving him, or whether they are just wearing down one another's corners.
Languishing at the same level, honing skills, complacency; he does not think about any of it.
He sits on the bench when they are past exhausted, places his hands on his knees to keep them from knocking together. The court lights will probably be turned off any minute now. Yukimura steps across just once so that he is behind Tezuka, uses his towel to wipe the sweat away from the back of Tezuka's neck. His index finger follows its path across from right to left.
Tezuka wants to shiver, but does not. Cannot?
"Your Sternocleidomastoideus twitches a little when you aim to return a shot to the very corner on the right." Yukimura says, reaching around a little to run a finger along said muscle to see if he can get a reaction himself. "Our biology teacher is terribly enthusiastic about athletes; he seems to think we'll be fascinated by how our bodies work simply because we can manipulate them in ways others can't."
It could only have been blander if Yukimura had said something about the weather, but the sky is dark now. And if the night air holds a chill, Tezuka cannot feel it through the shiver he does release this time.
Sometimes it feels as though whatever it is between he and Yukimura, it is the most intimate thing in the world.
-
This entry was originally posted here on Dreamwidth. Comment there if you'd prefer!