Snippets (OshiGaku, PG-13), 12. Some Things Can't Be Forced
Title: Snippets (12)
Pairings: Oshitari/Gakuto.
Guest Stars: Rest of Hyoutei.
Rating: PG-13, for gay pairings.
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-sama or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of Prince of Tennis . It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-sama or aforesaid entities.
Author's Apology: I'm very sorry for missing two days in a row -- and not being able to make up for it. I've been totally exhausted from work over the last couple of days and couldn't complete writing the next few snippets. It's been a very tiring week at work.
This is a bit long for a snippet. >_<
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12. Some Things Can’t Be Forced
Gakuto is fond of natto; it tops his list of favourite foods together with fried chicken. It’s a pleasant dish, a handy snack, goes well with rice and apparently has lots of health benefits. He’s not the only one in the house who likes it-almost everyone, it seems, likes it. Ohtori, Shishido, Taki, Jirou and Hiyoshi are all quite happy about having natto around.
The exception, of course, is Oshitari.
Oshitari, most regrettably, can’t abide natto in any form. He doesn’t like the smell, doesn’t like the taste, doesn’t like the look of it, and is really put off in all other ways by it, reported health benefits notwithstanding. He has waged a continuous battle to keep the natto supply limited to a very specific compartment in their shared refrigerator. On occasion (this is rare, but it has happened), Oshitari swears that some of his food items in the refrigerator have ended up with a peculiar smell after being in the company of too much natto. Since he is decidedly in the minority, the issue of Oshitari’s food having a human right to be in a natto-free environment doesn’t take top priority in the household.
It’s not as if Oshitari hasn’t tried his hardest to try to like natto. Gakuto likes it, after all, so Oshitari thinks that even though he really can’t stomach the thought of eating it, he might as well practice being in the same room with it. After all, it’s a bit ridiculous that he has to leave the room just because Gakuto’s going to have natto with his rice. It’s also equally ridiculous that Gakuto should be deprived of the joy of his favourite dish just because Oshitari can’t abide it.
Constant exposure, Oshitari muses to himself, may be the key. He might be able to numb himself into being resigned to its presence. Oshitari draws up a twelve step addiction programme. He figures that by the end of the year, if all goes according to plan, he should be able to be in the same room as a bowl of rice with natto for about half an hour.
Three weeks into the addiction programme (and with no tangible progress made), an electrical appliance shop drops off a large package at the house one evening. Gakuto, who has apparently ordered the thingamajig, hauls the package into the kitchen and proceeds to coolly unpack it, revealing… a mini bar fridge.
As Gakuto explains to the rest of the befuddled household, which has gathered to gape and gawk: “It’s for the natto.” He glares at everyone belligerently, daring them to disagree. “We keep the natto in there and the big refrigerator stays natto-free.”
Oshitari doesn’t know what to say. He feels overwhelmed. Praise the heavens, his food will now and forever be certifiably uncontaminated by natto! Finally, having found his voice, he murmurs shakily: “But Gakuto… why? I mean, I still can’t be in the same room as, you know…” He gestures helplessly. The mini bar fridge is not going to resolve his aversion to natto. Besides, Gakuto knows about the twelve step programme. And Gakuto has never approved of giving up things halfway.
Gakuto tilts his head to one side and thinks before he answers. “Well,” he says finally and honestly, “I guess some things really can’t be forced, Yuushi. You were beginning to be a bit weird.” He looks critically at Oshitari. “You can stop wearing natto-patterned shirts and pyjamas now, Yuushi. It looks horrible on you.”
“Yes,” chimes in Taki. “They’re an eyesore.”
Hiyoshi folds his arms. “While you’re at it, Oshitari-sempai, please dispose of the replicas of bowls of natto in the house. I like to eat natto, not live in a place decorated with it.”
Shishido jerks his thumb at the others. “What they said.”
Oshitari is still staring in a slightly dazed manner at the brand new mini bar fridge when the kitchen empties, leaving just him and Gakuto.
Gakuto taps his foot impatiently and rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Yuushi, stop staring at it. It’s just a fridge.”
The next thing Gakuto knows, Oshitari’s arms are around him in a warm, tight hold, and Oshitari’s lips press against his hair, just above his ear: “Thank you.”
Much later that night, when most of them are in the family room, Gakuto is about to dig into a supper treat - natto on toast with some other interesting spreads (mayonnaise? peanut butter? who knows?) - when he notices a rather peculiar sight.
Oshitari Yuushi hasn’t left the family room. He’s sitting on the sofa, stoically reading a thick book. Gakuto’s pleased to see that Oshitari’s no longer wearing those horrible natto-patterned pyjamas, but-
“Yuushi, why are you wearing a mask?”
Oshitari’s nose, mouth and chin are completely covered by what appears to be a few surgical face masks stacked on top of one another - the standard type that can be looped around the ears. Nothing heavy-duty about it, but it looks quite impressive nevertheless. Oshitari’s voice, understandably, is rather muffled. “Natto.”
“Oh. Ah.” Gakuto frowns. Then - “Does it really work, Yuushi?” It seems a terribly simple solution.
Pause.
“Well, it’s worth a try.”
“Okay.” Gakuto isn’t about to argue. He proceeds to eat his way through his several slices of natto-on-toast with relish.
Around the time Gakuto starts on his third slice, Oshitari gets up rather abruptly and leaves.
Gakuto pauses mid-way through his snack, then shrugs to himself and continues eating. Life goes on. He'll have to brush and gargle and floss thoroughly afterwards; Yuushi doesn’t like to be kissed when Gakuto’s got natto breath.
Some things, really, can’t be forced.
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