Prince of Tennis: California Boys
Title: California Boys
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters/Pairings: Ryoma, Kevin
Genre: Gen? Gen.
Notes: I should probably polish this up a little more. :P On another note, I’ve been listening to the Beach Boys (obviously).
They always speak English when they're alone, and the language feels awkwardly good on Ryoma's tongue. He hasn't been able to talk with someone in that language for months; his parents have always spoken Japanese, and the English that people at school speak makes him want to smack his head against a hard surface.
So it feels good to talk to Kevin, even if he’s weird and obsessed and a brat.
"Ryoma. Yo, Ryoma. Ryooooma. Ryo - "
"What?" Echizen snaps. "I heard you."
Kevin frown-pouts. "You so didn't. You zoned out again, didn't you? Admit it!"
"You talk too much."
"Yeah, well, you don't talk at all," the blonde grumbles. "What else'm I supposed to do?"
"Shut up and finish eating already," mutters Ryoma, looking at Kevin's barely-touched fries. He reaches out and takes a few. Kevin rolls his eyes, but lets him.
"Hey. You miss anything about America?" the blonde asks after a few short moments of silence.
Ryoma shrugs and pokes at the empty hamburger wrappers on his tray. "I guess."
"Like what."
He shrugs again and doesn't say Real pizza, because that's just sort of stupid. He doesn't say Good music, because he never liked American pop music anyway. He doesn't say Sunshine, because sunshine is supposed to be sunshine, even though it's really actually between California and Japan. And he doesn't say English, because that'd be telling.
So he remembers that old song his Dad likes to hum around the house, blurts out, "California girls," and blushes ever-so-faintly when Kevin explodes into laughter.
"Oh, shut up," Ryoma mutters, standing up and taking his tray over to the garbage receptacle. Kevin follows him.
"You're such a perv. Wish they all could be California girls, huh?" Kevin wrinkles his nose and mutters, "God, that was corny," to himself.
Ryoma grimaces. "I was kidding."
"You'd better be."
Ryoma pulls down his hat. Kevin doesn't get the hint and just keeps talking.
"'Cause, you know, girls are stupid. They're loud and annoying and disgusting and - "
"Cooties?" Ryoma interrupts. Kevin rolls his eyes and trails him out of the McDonald's.
"Shut up. You know what I mean. And they're fake."
"They seem real to me."
"You know what I mean," the blonde boy repeats impatiently. "So you can't really miss California girls."
"Yeah, well," mutters Ryoma, and doesn’t elaborate. Kevin raises an eyebrow.
"Besides. You probably don't even like girls in the first place."
Ryoma blinks, blushes, and blinks again. "...Why'd you switch to Japanese?"
Kevin looks confused for a moment. "Why wouldn’t I? 'Sides. People stare at you on the street when you speak in English."
Ryoma almost wants to say, You’re a blonde American, they stare at you anyway, but refrains. "You did it again."
"What?"
"Switch."
"...I thought you wanted me to speak in English."
"I didn't say that."
"You implied it. God, Ryoma."
"God doesn't give a damn. Look, just stick to one language."
Kevin rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine. Loser."
Ryoma doesn't bother to respond to that, because it is in the right language and he feels pacified. They walk in silence for a few more feet, before Kevin decides to be annoying again.
"So... California boys?"
Echizen makes a little noise in the back of his throat, and it's either annoyance or embarrassment. Kevin can't decide.
"Stop being stupid."
"...You do. Haha! Loser."
"Shut up."
Kevin slings an arm over Ryoma's shoulder and grins when Ryoma shrugs it off.
"Don't worry. I won't tell your dad."
Ryoma sends him an irritated glance. "When are you leaving again?"
"Dunno. Why d'you miss California boys?"
"I don't," Ryoma insists. Kevin snorts.
"Yeah, you do."
"Not when you're around."
"Do t - What? Is that an insult or a compliment? It'd better be a compliment, Ryoma."
Echizen sighs.
"You're so annoying."
"You love me anyway." A pause. "It's a compliment, isn't it? Ryoma. Tell me."
"Oh, shut up."
"Mada mada dane," Kevin imitates for absolutely no reason at all, then snort-laughs.
Echizen wants to shut his eyes in irritation, but they’re crossing the street and settles for gritting his teeth.
Kevin, he thinks, is almost not worth the English.
Almost.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters/Pairings: Ryoma, Kevin
Genre: Gen? Gen.
Notes: I should probably polish this up a little more. :P On another note, I’ve been listening to the Beach Boys (obviously).
They always speak English when they're alone, and the language feels awkwardly good on Ryoma's tongue. He hasn't been able to talk with someone in that language for months; his parents have always spoken Japanese, and the English that people at school speak makes him want to smack his head against a hard surface.
So it feels good to talk to Kevin, even if he’s weird and obsessed and a brat.
"Ryoma. Yo, Ryoma. Ryooooma. Ryo - "
"What?" Echizen snaps. "I heard you."
Kevin frown-pouts. "You so didn't. You zoned out again, didn't you? Admit it!"
"You talk too much."
"Yeah, well, you don't talk at all," the blonde grumbles. "What else'm I supposed to do?"
"Shut up and finish eating already," mutters Ryoma, looking at Kevin's barely-touched fries. He reaches out and takes a few. Kevin rolls his eyes, but lets him.
"Hey. You miss anything about America?" the blonde asks after a few short moments of silence.
Ryoma shrugs and pokes at the empty hamburger wrappers on his tray. "I guess."
"Like what."
He shrugs again and doesn't say Real pizza, because that's just sort of stupid. He doesn't say Good music, because he never liked American pop music anyway. He doesn't say Sunshine, because sunshine is supposed to be sunshine, even though it's really actually between California and Japan. And he doesn't say English, because that'd be telling.
So he remembers that old song his Dad likes to hum around the house, blurts out, "California girls," and blushes ever-so-faintly when Kevin explodes into laughter.
"Oh, shut up," Ryoma mutters, standing up and taking his tray over to the garbage receptacle. Kevin follows him.
"You're such a perv. Wish they all could be California girls, huh?" Kevin wrinkles his nose and mutters, "God, that was corny," to himself.
Ryoma grimaces. "I was kidding."
"You'd better be."
Ryoma pulls down his hat. Kevin doesn't get the hint and just keeps talking.
"'Cause, you know, girls are stupid. They're loud and annoying and disgusting and - "
"Cooties?" Ryoma interrupts. Kevin rolls his eyes and trails him out of the McDonald's.
"Shut up. You know what I mean. And they're fake."
"They seem real to me."
"You know what I mean," the blonde boy repeats impatiently. "So you can't really miss California girls."
"Yeah, well," mutters Ryoma, and doesn’t elaborate. Kevin raises an eyebrow.
"Besides. You probably don't even like girls in the first place."
Ryoma blinks, blushes, and blinks again. "...Why'd you switch to Japanese?"
Kevin looks confused for a moment. "Why wouldn’t I? 'Sides. People stare at you on the street when you speak in English."
Ryoma almost wants to say, You’re a blonde American, they stare at you anyway, but refrains. "You did it again."
"What?"
"Switch."
"...I thought you wanted me to speak in English."
"I didn't say that."
"You implied it. God, Ryoma."
"God doesn't give a damn. Look, just stick to one language."
Kevin rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine. Loser."
Ryoma doesn't bother to respond to that, because it is in the right language and he feels pacified. They walk in silence for a few more feet, before Kevin decides to be annoying again.
"So... California boys?"
Echizen makes a little noise in the back of his throat, and it's either annoyance or embarrassment. Kevin can't decide.
"Stop being stupid."
"...You do. Haha! Loser."
"Shut up."
Kevin slings an arm over Ryoma's shoulder and grins when Ryoma shrugs it off.
"Don't worry. I won't tell your dad."
Ryoma sends him an irritated glance. "When are you leaving again?"
"Dunno. Why d'you miss California boys?"
"I don't," Ryoma insists. Kevin snorts.
"Yeah, you do."
"Not when you're around."
"Do t - What? Is that an insult or a compliment? It'd better be a compliment, Ryoma."
Echizen sighs.
"You're so annoying."
"You love me anyway." A pause. "It's a compliment, isn't it? Ryoma. Tell me."
"Oh, shut up."
"Mada mada dane," Kevin imitates for absolutely no reason at all, then snort-laughs.
Echizen wants to shut his eyes in irritation, but they’re crossing the street and settles for gritting his teeth.
Kevin, he thinks, is almost not worth the English.
Almost.