[HnG] A Little Conversation (PG) [Impatience arc Part 8]
Title: A Little Conversation
Author: Kimmie (tasukichiriko@hotmail.com)
Category: shonen ai
Pairings: AkiHika
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I mean no harm, I have no money... Stuff like that. Yeah. (Hotta and Obana, guys!)
Rating: PG.
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: Part eight of the "Impatience" arc... the story that I find myself adoring beyond all others that I've written. Enjoy! (Find previous parts at Jumpy Boys.)
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"Touya!" Hikaru set a plate of spaghetti and meatballs on the table. "Dinner's ready."
A moment later, Akira came walking in, looking a bit flustered. "Thank you... Shindou."
"Something wrong?" Hikaru pulled out Akira's chair and helped him move the chair in once he'd sat down. Hikaru took his own seat.
"What's really changed?"
"Huh?" Hikaru looked up from the piece of garlic bread he'd just grabbed. "What do you mean?"
"We've... kissed a bit. And, we live together. And, we play more go than we used to. We do some things which are because we live together. But, can we really say we're dating when I still call you 'Shindou' and you still call me 'Touya'?"
Hikaru nibbled on the crust of his bread, then set it down and looked at Akira seriously. "I wanted to make sure before I went and changed everything. For years, in my head, you've been Akira. But, for years, you've been Touya... someone I had to be at least a bit polite to out in public, and going back and forth just wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to bother with. It's too much like work. I don't like having to think about what to call you every time I say your name."
Akira poked at one of the meatballs he'd put on his plate with a small helping of spaghetti. "So you were waiting for me to be ready?"
"Don't make it sound so noble. I just didn't want things to be awkward." Hikaru slurped at a string of spaghetti and laughed quickly as it dragged along his chin. He grabbed a napkin and cleaned his face.
"You can call me 'Akira', you know. It's always been weird being called 'Touya' by people who know my dad... like somehow I'm inferior because I don't have a title to tack on the end of my name yet." He smiled softly and twirled spaghetti on his fork. "And you always draw it out and make me know when you're going to complain about something."
"Akira. It's a nice name. And you can call me 'Hikaru' if you want." Hikaru offered Akira the parmesan cheese. "Cheese?"
Akira shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm not fond of it. But is there any extra sauce?"
Hikaru smiled. "I thought you might like some... you put lots of sauce on anything that has sauce. Let me get it." He stood up and retrieved the bowl from the counter.
"Thank you, Hikaru." Akira smiled and accepted the bowl. "I always wanted to call you that. Shindou doesn't make me think of you like I know you to be. But Hikaru... Hikaru makes me remember all of those times when you got in my way and made me angry and unsure... and all of those stupid moves that you made and then turned completely around."
Hikaru had taken his seat again. "The fact that you were usually the only person who could read ahead enough to see where those moves might take me... I'm sure that pissed you off."
"It always made me wonder how exactly you came up with them, and how much further ahead you were reading to be able to see them so clearly." Akira took another bite of spaghetti, careful not to get any of the sauce on his shirt.
"I don't know how far I read. Sometimes, I don't even think it's reading. It's just... knowing. You watch an opponent for thirty hands and you learn about them quickly. You know from their fuseki how aggressive they are, and whether they can stay at that level. You learn if you can force their hand. You know what they're thinking is going to happen, and then you go beyond that. You take yose into consideration from the end of fuseki and just... know." Hikaru cleared his throat and took a sip of his water. "You still make it difficult for me, you know. Sometimes you play entirely different from one day to the next."
Akira was still playing with his food, only occasionally taking a bite. "You are okay with all of this, aren't you?"
"Huh? What do you mean 'this'? Dinner? I thought it was good." He looked at Akira's plate versus his own. "Do you not like the sausage I put in the meatballs?"
"So that's what that flavor is... I like the dinner. But, I mean, this. All of this. The two of us living together, and sleeping in the same bed, and sometimes kissing, you cooking and me cleaning, us playing go... I know I said you'd get something more if you get to the Honinbou semi-finals... but, you can't be satisfied with that." He looked as though he was going to say something else, but stopped himself.
Hikaru was silent for a while as he continued to eat. But after a few more mouthfuls, he lay down his fork and wiped his mouth. "Akira? I'm 'satisfied' by being with you. Yeah, my hormones may try their best to overwhelm me sometimes. Yeah, I may see you fresh out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel and want to jerk the towel away. Yeah, sometimes I want to just grab you and kiss you when we're out shopping or we're on the train or something. But, I can deal with it until you decide that you want to let me do it. I'm not going to force myself on you. I told you at the beginning of all of 'this' that I wasn't doing it as some little fling. If I'm not complaining, you shouldn't be."
Akira put down his own fork. "But how can you stand it? How can you have the willpower to hold back?"
Putting his head in his hands and laughing softly, Hikaru said, "I don't know, sometimes. Because, y'know, even with that haircut... you're still so damn sexy sometimes without meaning to be, and that's usually when I suggest we play speed go."
"What's wrong with my hair?!" Akira stabbed a meatball.
"Nothing!" Hikaru's eyes were wide and he had his hands in front of him, waving slightly. "I didn't mean it like that... it's just that... well... Okay, your hair doesn't really seem to match the rest of you now. Your face is so... gorgeous, really, and then you still have the same haircut that you did when I first met you."
Akira ate his meatball, chewing on it slowly. He swallowed and wiped his own mouth. "It's not like your own hair has had any change since then."
"Then what would you suggest? Dye it black again? Cut it short? I'll do it. Whatever you want, I'll do it." Hikaru's eyes were set with the stubbornness that Akira knew he possessed as well.
"I..." Akira reached out and fingered the blonde bangs. "I like your hair. But what would you have me do with mine? Cut it short like my father's?"
"I was thinking more like Yashiro... sort of spiky... but shorter than that. Or maybe grow it out and pull it back? Y'know, not too long, but enough that you can do something with it if it gets in your way."
"I can do that," Akira said. He ate more of his spaghetti. "How long have you been holding that thought in?"
"At least a year," Hikaru mumbled out from around his garlic bread.
Akira picked up his own garlic bread, dipped it in some of the sauce left on his plate, and took a large bite. "You're really getting to be a better cook."
"Yeah, well, when you have to do it all by yourself, you sort of have to. It wouldn't do to screw up one part of a meal and get the rest of it right or anything like that, so I have to be careful."
"We have tomorrow night off. Do you want to start teaching me how to cook?"
Hikaru grinned widely and Akira grinned to see a fleck of parsley stuck in his teeth. (He'd point it out later.) "I have a better idea, actually. I know Waya's off tomorrow night, and I think Isumi is, too. Do you want to have a go party? You could maybe help me make the food for that? Y'know... simple stuff."
"Like crackers and cheese?"
"Something like that."
"I think I can handle that. Should we invite anyone else?" Akira finished off his garlic bread.
"As long as it isn't Ogata, or Kurata, or the old man Kuwabara, I don't care." Hikaru slumped back in his chair.
Akira smiled. "I'll see what I can do. Or do you want to invite some of your friends from your insei days?"
Hikaru looked at Akira closely and smiled. "Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself. Yeah. I'll do that... if you don't mind?"
"Hikaru... I wouldn't suggest it if I minded." Akira took a final bite of spaghetti and wiped his mouth before taking a sip of water. "Are you finished? I'll clean up."
"Yeah." Hikaru picked up his own plate and brought it over to the sink. "You wash, I'll dry. And then-"
"A game of go?"
"You spoil me." Hikaru laughed and grabbed a clean dishtowel from one of the drawers by the sink.
"When it's go we're talking about, I think we spoil each other." Akira turned on the water and soaped up a sponge. "Speed go?"
"Only if you put on that silly apron again."
Akira blushed. "The apron? Really?" He grinned. "I'll have to remember that."
Hikaru sighed loudly. "The things you do to me!"
"Oh, quit that. Here. Dry this."
Their game of go that evening was not particularly eventful, but was certainly a welcome event as all games of go were in the Shindou-Touya household.
----------
Owari. ^_~
Author: Kimmie (tasukichiriko@hotmail.com)
Category: shonen ai
Pairings: AkiHika
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I mean no harm, I have no money... Stuff like that. Yeah. (Hotta and Obana, guys!)
Rating: PG.
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: Part eight of the "Impatience" arc... the story that I find myself adoring beyond all others that I've written. Enjoy! (Find previous parts at Jumpy Boys.)
----------
"Touya!" Hikaru set a plate of spaghetti and meatballs on the table. "Dinner's ready."
A moment later, Akira came walking in, looking a bit flustered. "Thank you... Shindou."
"Something wrong?" Hikaru pulled out Akira's chair and helped him move the chair in once he'd sat down. Hikaru took his own seat.
"What's really changed?"
"Huh?" Hikaru looked up from the piece of garlic bread he'd just grabbed. "What do you mean?"
"We've... kissed a bit. And, we live together. And, we play more go than we used to. We do some things which are because we live together. But, can we really say we're dating when I still call you 'Shindou' and you still call me 'Touya'?"
Hikaru nibbled on the crust of his bread, then set it down and looked at Akira seriously. "I wanted to make sure before I went and changed everything. For years, in my head, you've been Akira. But, for years, you've been Touya... someone I had to be at least a bit polite to out in public, and going back and forth just wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to bother with. It's too much like work. I don't like having to think about what to call you every time I say your name."
Akira poked at one of the meatballs he'd put on his plate with a small helping of spaghetti. "So you were waiting for me to be ready?"
"Don't make it sound so noble. I just didn't want things to be awkward." Hikaru slurped at a string of spaghetti and laughed quickly as it dragged along his chin. He grabbed a napkin and cleaned his face.
"You can call me 'Akira', you know. It's always been weird being called 'Touya' by people who know my dad... like somehow I'm inferior because I don't have a title to tack on the end of my name yet." He smiled softly and twirled spaghetti on his fork. "And you always draw it out and make me know when you're going to complain about something."
"Akira. It's a nice name. And you can call me 'Hikaru' if you want." Hikaru offered Akira the parmesan cheese. "Cheese?"
Akira shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm not fond of it. But is there any extra sauce?"
Hikaru smiled. "I thought you might like some... you put lots of sauce on anything that has sauce. Let me get it." He stood up and retrieved the bowl from the counter.
"Thank you, Hikaru." Akira smiled and accepted the bowl. "I always wanted to call you that. Shindou doesn't make me think of you like I know you to be. But Hikaru... Hikaru makes me remember all of those times when you got in my way and made me angry and unsure... and all of those stupid moves that you made and then turned completely around."
Hikaru had taken his seat again. "The fact that you were usually the only person who could read ahead enough to see where those moves might take me... I'm sure that pissed you off."
"It always made me wonder how exactly you came up with them, and how much further ahead you were reading to be able to see them so clearly." Akira took another bite of spaghetti, careful not to get any of the sauce on his shirt.
"I don't know how far I read. Sometimes, I don't even think it's reading. It's just... knowing. You watch an opponent for thirty hands and you learn about them quickly. You know from their fuseki how aggressive they are, and whether they can stay at that level. You learn if you can force their hand. You know what they're thinking is going to happen, and then you go beyond that. You take yose into consideration from the end of fuseki and just... know." Hikaru cleared his throat and took a sip of his water. "You still make it difficult for me, you know. Sometimes you play entirely different from one day to the next."
Akira was still playing with his food, only occasionally taking a bite. "You are okay with all of this, aren't you?"
"Huh? What do you mean 'this'? Dinner? I thought it was good." He looked at Akira's plate versus his own. "Do you not like the sausage I put in the meatballs?"
"So that's what that flavor is... I like the dinner. But, I mean, this. All of this. The two of us living together, and sleeping in the same bed, and sometimes kissing, you cooking and me cleaning, us playing go... I know I said you'd get something more if you get to the Honinbou semi-finals... but, you can't be satisfied with that." He looked as though he was going to say something else, but stopped himself.
Hikaru was silent for a while as he continued to eat. But after a few more mouthfuls, he lay down his fork and wiped his mouth. "Akira? I'm 'satisfied' by being with you. Yeah, my hormones may try their best to overwhelm me sometimes. Yeah, I may see you fresh out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel and want to jerk the towel away. Yeah, sometimes I want to just grab you and kiss you when we're out shopping or we're on the train or something. But, I can deal with it until you decide that you want to let me do it. I'm not going to force myself on you. I told you at the beginning of all of 'this' that I wasn't doing it as some little fling. If I'm not complaining, you shouldn't be."
Akira put down his own fork. "But how can you stand it? How can you have the willpower to hold back?"
Putting his head in his hands and laughing softly, Hikaru said, "I don't know, sometimes. Because, y'know, even with that haircut... you're still so damn sexy sometimes without meaning to be, and that's usually when I suggest we play speed go."
"What's wrong with my hair?!" Akira stabbed a meatball.
"Nothing!" Hikaru's eyes were wide and he had his hands in front of him, waving slightly. "I didn't mean it like that... it's just that... well... Okay, your hair doesn't really seem to match the rest of you now. Your face is so... gorgeous, really, and then you still have the same haircut that you did when I first met you."
Akira ate his meatball, chewing on it slowly. He swallowed and wiped his own mouth. "It's not like your own hair has had any change since then."
"Then what would you suggest? Dye it black again? Cut it short? I'll do it. Whatever you want, I'll do it." Hikaru's eyes were set with the stubbornness that Akira knew he possessed as well.
"I..." Akira reached out and fingered the blonde bangs. "I like your hair. But what would you have me do with mine? Cut it short like my father's?"
"I was thinking more like Yashiro... sort of spiky... but shorter than that. Or maybe grow it out and pull it back? Y'know, not too long, but enough that you can do something with it if it gets in your way."
"I can do that," Akira said. He ate more of his spaghetti. "How long have you been holding that thought in?"
"At least a year," Hikaru mumbled out from around his garlic bread.
Akira picked up his own garlic bread, dipped it in some of the sauce left on his plate, and took a large bite. "You're really getting to be a better cook."
"Yeah, well, when you have to do it all by yourself, you sort of have to. It wouldn't do to screw up one part of a meal and get the rest of it right or anything like that, so I have to be careful."
"We have tomorrow night off. Do you want to start teaching me how to cook?"
Hikaru grinned widely and Akira grinned to see a fleck of parsley stuck in his teeth. (He'd point it out later.) "I have a better idea, actually. I know Waya's off tomorrow night, and I think Isumi is, too. Do you want to have a go party? You could maybe help me make the food for that? Y'know... simple stuff."
"Like crackers and cheese?"
"Something like that."
"I think I can handle that. Should we invite anyone else?" Akira finished off his garlic bread.
"As long as it isn't Ogata, or Kurata, or the old man Kuwabara, I don't care." Hikaru slumped back in his chair.
Akira smiled. "I'll see what I can do. Or do you want to invite some of your friends from your insei days?"
Hikaru looked at Akira closely and smiled. "Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself. Yeah. I'll do that... if you don't mind?"
"Hikaru... I wouldn't suggest it if I minded." Akira took a final bite of spaghetti and wiped his mouth before taking a sip of water. "Are you finished? I'll clean up."
"Yeah." Hikaru picked up his own plate and brought it over to the sink. "You wash, I'll dry. And then-"
"A game of go?"
"You spoil me." Hikaru laughed and grabbed a clean dishtowel from one of the drawers by the sink.
"When it's go we're talking about, I think we spoil each other." Akira turned on the water and soaped up a sponge. "Speed go?"
"Only if you put on that silly apron again."
Akira blushed. "The apron? Really?" He grinned. "I'll have to remember that."
Hikaru sighed loudly. "The things you do to me!"
"Oh, quit that. Here. Dry this."
Their game of go that evening was not particularly eventful, but was certainly a welcome event as all games of go were in the Shindou-Touya household.
----------
Owari. ^_~