TeniPuri: (FIC) Coming To Terms: Osamu/Gin: PG-13
Title: Coming To Terms
Pairing: Osamu/Gin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Osamu discovers an early morning surprise.
AN: For whisper132, who wanted something a bit more risqué...alludes to Parabola-verse.
Between the light and the pain, Osamu wasn't quite sure which drove him from his much needed sleep. It could have been either…or both, for that matter. He was naked, too, so it could have been from the chill.
The light was hurting his eyes, which only compounded the headache, which did nothing to drown out the pain radiating from places on his body further south, which prevented him from realizing that he wasn't cold, despite the weather and his lack of clothes.
Osamu was never drinking again.
Distantly, his mind noted that Gin would be pleased. And it was that thought which brought every second of last night back in a rush.
"Gin," Osamu blurted out, sitting way too fast for the way his body protested. A murmured protest-too close, way too close-drew his attention to the space two inches to his left. The blanket slid down Gin's bare shoulders. "Oh, shit."
He lay back down, closing his eyes as he did. Perhaps he could sleep for another hour and wake up incredibly happy and dismayed, with the knowledge that this was all a dream. He was used to that feeling. Happy because he did nothing to earn himself a death sentence, happy he had the tantalizing dream, giving him good shower-time fodder, and dismayed because he was, in fact, a pervert…albeit one with self-restraint and vague morals.
Osamu opened his eyes again when a rather large arm flung itself around his waist. Nope, Gin was still there and they were both just as naked.
"I'm too young to die," he said to himself, despite knowing how melodramatic the words sounded.
"Osamu," Gin murmured. He held his breath, not knowing what to say.
"Yes?" Did his voice sound as bad to Gin as it did to him? That half-panicked, half-strangled sound that came out of his mouth?
"We're going to be late for school," Gin stated quietly, eyes still closed. "We've already missed practice."
"Oh, shit," Osamu repeated. There were terms for what men like him became in prison. He didn't want to think of those terms. Those terms were frightening. "Oh, shit, oh shit oh shit oh shit."
"I hope they didn't call home," Gin continued. Osamu clutched at his chest, debating whether he should hope it was a heart attack or not.
"Gin, I…er…it was…you're…I'm…" Osamu couldn't get the words out of his mouth.
Gin lifted his head, glaring blearily at him. "I'm almost twenty-five, now."
Huh?
"You're like this every morning after you drink too much," Gin grumbled, burrowing back under the covers. "You shouldn't drink so much. It's not good for you."
What?
"Go back to sleep. Everything will make sense after you get some more sleep." That was an order, Osamu noted, and one that instinct determined he should obey.
With that, he closed his eyes again, and was proud at the lack of panic when Gin's arm wrapped around him again.
Twenty-five was a good age. A nice, legal, non-imprisonable age.
Pairing: Osamu/Gin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Osamu discovers an early morning surprise.
AN: For whisper132, who wanted something a bit more risqué...alludes to Parabola-verse.
Between the light and the pain, Osamu wasn't quite sure which drove him from his much needed sleep. It could have been either…or both, for that matter. He was naked, too, so it could have been from the chill.
The light was hurting his eyes, which only compounded the headache, which did nothing to drown out the pain radiating from places on his body further south, which prevented him from realizing that he wasn't cold, despite the weather and his lack of clothes.
Osamu was never drinking again.
Distantly, his mind noted that Gin would be pleased. And it was that thought which brought every second of last night back in a rush.
"Gin," Osamu blurted out, sitting way too fast for the way his body protested. A murmured protest-too close, way too close-drew his attention to the space two inches to his left. The blanket slid down Gin's bare shoulders. "Oh, shit."
He lay back down, closing his eyes as he did. Perhaps he could sleep for another hour and wake up incredibly happy and dismayed, with the knowledge that this was all a dream. He was used to that feeling. Happy because he did nothing to earn himself a death sentence, happy he had the tantalizing dream, giving him good shower-time fodder, and dismayed because he was, in fact, a pervert…albeit one with self-restraint and vague morals.
Osamu opened his eyes again when a rather large arm flung itself around his waist. Nope, Gin was still there and they were both just as naked.
"I'm too young to die," he said to himself, despite knowing how melodramatic the words sounded.
"Osamu," Gin murmured. He held his breath, not knowing what to say.
"Yes?" Did his voice sound as bad to Gin as it did to him? That half-panicked, half-strangled sound that came out of his mouth?
"We're going to be late for school," Gin stated quietly, eyes still closed. "We've already missed practice."
"Oh, shit," Osamu repeated. There were terms for what men like him became in prison. He didn't want to think of those terms. Those terms were frightening. "Oh, shit, oh shit oh shit oh shit."
"I hope they didn't call home," Gin continued. Osamu clutched at his chest, debating whether he should hope it was a heart attack or not.
"Gin, I…er…it was…you're…I'm…" Osamu couldn't get the words out of his mouth.
Gin lifted his head, glaring blearily at him. "I'm almost twenty-five, now."
Huh?
"You're like this every morning after you drink too much," Gin grumbled, burrowing back under the covers. "You shouldn't drink so much. It's not good for you."
What?
"Go back to sleep. Everything will make sense after you get some more sleep." That was an order, Osamu noted, and one that instinct determined he should obey.
With that, he closed his eyes again, and was proud at the lack of panic when Gin's arm wrapped around him again.
Twenty-five was a good age. A nice, legal, non-imprisonable age.