Ficlet: Fun and Games (MuraYuu)
Title: Fun and Games
Author: Sora Ishida
Rating: T/PG-13
Words: 616
Pairing(s): Murata/Yuuri
Summary: Yuuri wants to avoid an uncomfortable confrontation, but ends up stumbling head-first into it, regardless.
Comment: Written after a call for inspiration in my LJ, in reply to my dear poisonangel7's prompt. She told me I should post it 'to the comms' so here we are. :D It's actually a bit of a side-story to a much larger AU arc I started years ago. Someday it might even see the light of day, who knows? XD
Yuuri winced as he slid the shirt of his baseball uniform over his head. His stomach was a sea of knots and butterflies that kept trying to make him revisit the small amount of breakfast he'd been able to choke down. It was even starting to drown out the steady throb in his head. Though, he would have gladly picked the hangover before sheer dread, any day. Perhaps he could call in sick. The team could do without a captain for one session, surely!
The doorbell chimed like a death knell through the house. Too late. No choice now but to face the music. He grabbed for his baseball kit bag, pausing a moment to heave a deep breath that did nothing to settle scattered nerves. Then he was racing down the stairs, almost colliding with the front door after leaping the last three steps in one. "Running late! See you later!" He called, yanking open the door and all but mowing a stunned Murata down.
A series of indignant calls of "Yuu-chan!" followed them out into the street.
Murata retrieved the arm Yuuri had grabbed in the mad dash, and righted slightly skewed glasses. "Shibuyaaa...we aren't late at all, what was that for? Did you run around naked in front of your brother's friends again?"
"No!" He flushed, why had he ever told Murata he'd done that to Shouri when they were little? His friend never missed a chance to tease him about it. "Eheh, we're not late? My bad! Uh..." Yuuri fidgeted.
"You alright, Shibuya?" Murata leaned in, peering intently at him; then raised a hand towards his forehead, in concern. Yuuri flinched and backed away, waving his free hand.
"Fine. Fine! I'm just fine." He laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. Why was Murata acting so normal? How could he be acting so normal?
-- Heat. Sweat. A press of bodies all around. The music pounding through his chest, as though it was the very thing making his heart beat. --
"Uhhh. About last night..." Yuuri began. His stomach clenched tighter, the sick-feeling rising. If Murata seemed so unaffected, why was he still about to bring it up?
-- Murata, smiling widely, leaning close to be heard. And they were suddenly kissing. A velvet press of lips, then tongues sliding, tangling, the barest hint of teeth. Pushing from all sides, pushing them against each other. --
"Oh, that! Are you hungover?" Murata laughed, winking conspiratorially. "I guess we had a bit too much fun, eh?" Yuuri paled, but Murata only shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Ne, I can't even remember half of it!"
Yuuri let out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding, relief washing over so quickly he nearly collapsed. He laughed, a bit high and shaky. "Y-yeah, we must have!"
Murata...didn't remember. They didn't have to have that conversation. Well, he'd no idea what to say, anyway. 'I'm sorry, I was drunk.' just sounded lame - 'I didn't mean it!' was almost cruel - 'I don't like you that way...' far too cliché. But, it had been good, surprisingly so, and Yuuri hadn't yet come to terms with that in his own mind. He pushed the thoughts away, they weren't worth worrying about now. He'd panicked over nothing. If only Yuuri remembered the...kiss, he could pretend it never happened.
Taking a deep breath to chase away the last of the relieved jitters, he grinned, and shouldered his baseball bag. "Well. Come on, then, Oh-Great-Manager-san. Or we really will be late!"
Murata watched Yuuri stride off purposefully down the street, and ducked his head to hide the grin pulling at his lips. Too much fun, indeed.
x-posted to:
murata_x_yuuri, kyou_kara_maou, and my fic journal
Author: Sora Ishida
Rating: T/PG-13
Words: 616
Pairing(s): Murata/Yuuri
Summary: Yuuri wants to avoid an uncomfortable confrontation, but ends up stumbling head-first into it, regardless.
Comment: Written after a call for inspiration in my LJ, in reply to my dear poisonangel7's prompt. She told me I should post it 'to the comms' so here we are. :D It's actually a bit of a side-story to a much larger AU arc I started years ago. Someday it might even see the light of day, who knows? XD
Yuuri winced as he slid the shirt of his baseball uniform over his head. His stomach was a sea of knots and butterflies that kept trying to make him revisit the small amount of breakfast he'd been able to choke down. It was even starting to drown out the steady throb in his head. Though, he would have gladly picked the hangover before sheer dread, any day. Perhaps he could call in sick. The team could do without a captain for one session, surely!
The doorbell chimed like a death knell through the house. Too late. No choice now but to face the music. He grabbed for his baseball kit bag, pausing a moment to heave a deep breath that did nothing to settle scattered nerves. Then he was racing down the stairs, almost colliding with the front door after leaping the last three steps in one. "Running late! See you later!" He called, yanking open the door and all but mowing a stunned Murata down.
A series of indignant calls of "Yuu-chan!" followed them out into the street.
Murata retrieved the arm Yuuri had grabbed in the mad dash, and righted slightly skewed glasses. "Shibuyaaa...we aren't late at all, what was that for? Did you run around naked in front of your brother's friends again?"
"No!" He flushed, why had he ever told Murata he'd done that to Shouri when they were little? His friend never missed a chance to tease him about it. "Eheh, we're not late? My bad! Uh..." Yuuri fidgeted.
"You alright, Shibuya?" Murata leaned in, peering intently at him; then raised a hand towards his forehead, in concern. Yuuri flinched and backed away, waving his free hand.
"Fine. Fine! I'm just fine." He laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. Why was Murata acting so normal? How could he be acting so normal?
-- Heat. Sweat. A press of bodies all around. The music pounding through his chest, as though it was the very thing making his heart beat. --
"Uhhh. About last night..." Yuuri began. His stomach clenched tighter, the sick-feeling rising. If Murata seemed so unaffected, why was he still about to bring it up?
-- Murata, smiling widely, leaning close to be heard. And they were suddenly kissing. A velvet press of lips, then tongues sliding, tangling, the barest hint of teeth. Pushing from all sides, pushing them against each other. --
"Oh, that! Are you hungover?" Murata laughed, winking conspiratorially. "I guess we had a bit too much fun, eh?" Yuuri paled, but Murata only shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Ne, I can't even remember half of it!"
Yuuri let out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding, relief washing over so quickly he nearly collapsed. He laughed, a bit high and shaky. "Y-yeah, we must have!"
Murata...didn't remember. They didn't have to have that conversation. Well, he'd no idea what to say, anyway. 'I'm sorry, I was drunk.' just sounded lame - 'I didn't mean it!' was almost cruel - 'I don't like you that way...' far too cliché. But, it had been good, surprisingly so, and Yuuri hadn't yet come to terms with that in his own mind. He pushed the thoughts away, they weren't worth worrying about now. He'd panicked over nothing. If only Yuuri remembered the...kiss, he could pretend it never happened.
Taking a deep breath to chase away the last of the relieved jitters, he grinned, and shouldered his baseball bag. "Well. Come on, then, Oh-Great-Manager-san. Or we really will be late!"
Murata watched Yuuri stride off purposefully down the street, and ducked his head to hide the grin pulling at his lips. Too much fun, indeed.
x-posted to:
murata_x_yuuri, kyou_kara_maou, and my fic journal