Fanficlet - Prince of Tennis [KiriKam]
blackbloodrunya insisted that I post this. I'm not sure why. It's very random, borne of a little conversation between us that ran thusly:
Me: What kind of non-sports related job do you think Kirihara would have in the future?
Runya: *hems and haws and generally doesn't really answer*
Much later, on the way home
Me: *realises* Damn! She never gave me an answer! *whips out phone and messages:
If you don't give me an answer, I'm going to make him a physicist or something!
Runya: *replies* Are you trying to destroy the world?!
Me: >D
THEN I started revising Gothic, while still laughing over the idea of physicist!Kirihara. I really shouldn't have.
And thus was born... this random thing. It's NOT crack. I don't do crack. Just randomness. *nods* No beginning, no end, no title, no nothing. You've been warned.
“Can’t see you as a physicist, though.”
The dark-haired boy cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear, awkwardly slipping on his gloves. “For tonight, I’m not. I’ve been instructed to loosen up, so I fully intend on doing so.” He adjusted the gloves before taking the phone in his hand again, relieving his cramping shoulder.
An amused laugh filtered through to his ears as he flipped through his shirts, trying to find one that would go with the gloves and pants he was already wearing. He was determined to wear the fingerless leather gloves that night, so he’d make a top fit them if he had to. He hadn’t even worn the gloves once since he’d bought them, becoming far too caught up in his work.
“It’s still a bit strange. I’d have thought you’d do something more… active?”
Kamio finally settled on a white shirt and pulled it out of the wardrobe. “Hang on a minute,” he directed the person on the other end of the phone, tossing the phone unceremoniously on the bed. He hurriedly pulled on his shirt, securing a chain-link belt around his waist before picking up the phone again.
“Active or no,” Kirihara retorted to silence, “I’m still at the top of my field.”
“I never said you weren’t.”
Kirihara considered that for a moment, glancing himself over in the mirror. Deeming himself presentable, he turned his attention back to the person on the other end of the line.
“That’s true,” he conceded finally. “But you did imply I’m not suited for the job.”
“You’re brilliant, I’m sure.”
“Have you any idea how fascinating superluminal experiments can be, really?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Kirihara smirked at his reflection as he tugged at his shirt, settling it into place properly. “Very,” the other person finally replied. “Uh, Kirihara, you ready yet? Should I leave?”
Kirihara gave himself a last once-over. “I suppose.”
“I’ll be right over then.”
When the doorbell rang at Kirihara’s apartment twenty minutes later, he was rummaging through his wardrobe for another shirt, having decided that the one he’d picked earlier just didn’t suit the rest of the outfit. The red-head at the door eventually let himself in when Kirihara didn’t come to the door. Wandering to his room, he was amused at the sight that greeted him.
“You changed your mind again?”
“Shut up, Kamio.” Kirihara straightened triumphantly, clutching a cream shirt in his hand. “This goes better, I think.”
“You look good in anything,” Kamio said, smiling.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Kirihara asked, throwing the forsaken white shirt in Kamio’s face. The shirt passed easily through Kamio’s face, hitting the wall and sliding to the ground gracelessly.
“Not fair when you do that,” Kirihara complained, pulling on the cream shirt. Kamio simply smirked at him.
“You ready yet, vamp?”
Kirihara rubbed at his eyes, willing the blood to retreat and watching in his mirror as his sclera cleared from red back to white. “Now I am.”
Kamio straightened from where he’d been leaning against the door. “Finally. Let’s go.”
A night out at the clubs probably hadn’t been what Kirihara’s direct superior had intended when he’d told his protégé to loosen up, but that was exactly what Kirihara had in mind. For his little sojourn out into town, he’d chosen to ask Kamio along, knowing that the speed demon was one of the few who understood him for what he was. Even though they hadn’t seen each other for a few years now, they still felt as comfortable with each other as they had been when they’d last parted.
In front of anyone else, he couldn’t have drunk as comfortably as he did that night. Kirihara even felt uncomfortable drinking around other vampires, a fact which Niou and his mate Yagyuu were endlessly amused by. The fact still remained that Kamio was the only one whom Kirihara trusted to keep an eye out for him.
“Time to go, I think,” Kamio said gently as Kirihara staggered over to him almost drunkenly. The red-head caught his partner as he stumbled, chuckling to himself. It was odd seeing the usually graceful young man so clumsy, but then, he’d just drunk himself practically into a stupor. It wasn’t really a surprise.
Kirihara was going to regret this the next day at work, Kamio thought, as he manhandled the young man away. Once they were safely out of sight, hidden in an alley, it was simple enough for Kamio to transport them both back to Kirihara’s house.
Back in Kirihara’s room, Kamio unceremoniously deposited the now-unconscious boy in his bed, heading to the kitchen to make himself a snack. He was interrupted by a muffled groan.
“Awake, are we?” Kamio asked teasingly, returning to Kirihara’s side sans snack. His only reply was a pillow thrown directly at his face. It passed through the spot where he was standing, thumping on the wall behind him sullenly.
“I feel sick,” Kirihara whimpered. Kamio had to admit the other boy looked to be in a terrible way. When he opened his eyes, they weren’t red, but his pupils did seem unnaturally dilated. It was possible then, that drugs had been passed around at that club. Kirihara may have accidentally ended up ingesting some.
Concerned now, Kamio took Kirihara’s wrist and helped him up, bringing him to the washroom where the latter promptly started retching. Nothing came up but blood, confirming Kamio’s hypothesis as far as he was concerned. Once that was over, at least, Kirihara could begin the process of healing.
Helping a grumpy and embarrassed Kirihara clean up after himself was a mildly traumatising experience, and one which Kamio sincerely hoped he’d never again be subject to.
“That bastard,” Kirihara muttered some time later, when he felt well enough to talk coherently - Kamio didn’t think that curses were very coherent, no matter how well expressed.
“Was taking drugs?” Kamio enquired pleasantly, swinging his legs over the arm of the couch and reclining back in it. The soft material stroked his back and he very nearly mewled with pleasure. It had been tiring, bringing Kirihara back and helping him as he purged his system of the drugs.
“Most likely,” Kirihara agreed. “Though I didn’t detect anything at first. It had an odd after-taste though.”
“Must have been that,” Kamio suggested, closing his eyes against the bright lights of Kirihara’s home. Reaching over to the switches beside the couch, Kirihara flipped most of the lights off, leaving only a single lamp on. The sudden darkness was a welcome relief for Kamio’s eyes, which were already starting to hurt.
“You’ve been using it a little too much today,” Kirihara said with a mild note of disapproval in his voice.
“Had to get you back somehow,” Kamio replied, eyes still closed. The frown was easing off his face, though. It was still a surprise when he felt the gentle fingers on his brow, massaging his temples carefully, preventing the budding headache from ever flowering.
After a period of time, Kamio finally managed to rouse himself. “Thanks,” he murmured softly, lifting the unmoving fingers from his face. Turning, he smiled at the sight of Kirihara sitting on the floor leaning against the arm of the couch, his arms draped loosely around Kamio.
At least he wouldn’t need to phase out to carry Kirihara just a short distance, Kamio thought in amusement, as he carefully picked the other man up. And though Kirihara would kill him in the morning, it would be well worth it to be able to spend the night here.
Kamio dropped a quick, fond kiss on Kirihara’s lips before proceeding to the bedroom, a wicked smile slowly spreading across his lips.
~fin...?
[Edit:]
Edited this, with a bit extra... just because I wanted to answer Runya's screech of exactly where they were going. Look at where they eventually ended up, dear! *cackles*
[/Edit]
Me: What kind of non-sports related job do you think Kirihara would have in the future?
Runya: *hems and haws and generally doesn't really answer*
Much later, on the way home
Me: *realises* Damn! She never gave me an answer! *whips out phone and messages:
If you don't give me an answer, I'm going to make him a physicist or something!
Runya: *replies* Are you trying to destroy the world?!
Me: >D
THEN I started revising Gothic, while still laughing over the idea of physicist!Kirihara. I really shouldn't have.
And thus was born... this random thing. It's NOT crack. I don't do crack. Just randomness. *nods* No beginning, no end, no title, no nothing. You've been warned.
“Can’t see you as a physicist, though.”
The dark-haired boy cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear, awkwardly slipping on his gloves. “For tonight, I’m not. I’ve been instructed to loosen up, so I fully intend on doing so.” He adjusted the gloves before taking the phone in his hand again, relieving his cramping shoulder.
An amused laugh filtered through to his ears as he flipped through his shirts, trying to find one that would go with the gloves and pants he was already wearing. He was determined to wear the fingerless leather gloves that night, so he’d make a top fit them if he had to. He hadn’t even worn the gloves once since he’d bought them, becoming far too caught up in his work.
“It’s still a bit strange. I’d have thought you’d do something more… active?”
Kamio finally settled on a white shirt and pulled it out of the wardrobe. “Hang on a minute,” he directed the person on the other end of the phone, tossing the phone unceremoniously on the bed. He hurriedly pulled on his shirt, securing a chain-link belt around his waist before picking up the phone again.
“Active or no,” Kirihara retorted to silence, “I’m still at the top of my field.”
“I never said you weren’t.”
Kirihara considered that for a moment, glancing himself over in the mirror. Deeming himself presentable, he turned his attention back to the person on the other end of the line.
“That’s true,” he conceded finally. “But you did imply I’m not suited for the job.”
“You’re brilliant, I’m sure.”
“Have you any idea how fascinating superluminal experiments can be, really?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Kirihara smirked at his reflection as he tugged at his shirt, settling it into place properly. “Very,” the other person finally replied. “Uh, Kirihara, you ready yet? Should I leave?”
Kirihara gave himself a last once-over. “I suppose.”
“I’ll be right over then.”
When the doorbell rang at Kirihara’s apartment twenty minutes later, he was rummaging through his wardrobe for another shirt, having decided that the one he’d picked earlier just didn’t suit the rest of the outfit. The red-head at the door eventually let himself in when Kirihara didn’t come to the door. Wandering to his room, he was amused at the sight that greeted him.
“You changed your mind again?”
“Shut up, Kamio.” Kirihara straightened triumphantly, clutching a cream shirt in his hand. “This goes better, I think.”
“You look good in anything,” Kamio said, smiling.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Kirihara asked, throwing the forsaken white shirt in Kamio’s face. The shirt passed easily through Kamio’s face, hitting the wall and sliding to the ground gracelessly.
“Not fair when you do that,” Kirihara complained, pulling on the cream shirt. Kamio simply smirked at him.
“You ready yet, vamp?”
Kirihara rubbed at his eyes, willing the blood to retreat and watching in his mirror as his sclera cleared from red back to white. “Now I am.”
Kamio straightened from where he’d been leaning against the door. “Finally. Let’s go.”
A night out at the clubs probably hadn’t been what Kirihara’s direct superior had intended when he’d told his protégé to loosen up, but that was exactly what Kirihara had in mind. For his little sojourn out into town, he’d chosen to ask Kamio along, knowing that the speed demon was one of the few who understood him for what he was. Even though they hadn’t seen each other for a few years now, they still felt as comfortable with each other as they had been when they’d last parted.
In front of anyone else, he couldn’t have drunk as comfortably as he did that night. Kirihara even felt uncomfortable drinking around other vampires, a fact which Niou and his mate Yagyuu were endlessly amused by. The fact still remained that Kamio was the only one whom Kirihara trusted to keep an eye out for him.
“Time to go, I think,” Kamio said gently as Kirihara staggered over to him almost drunkenly. The red-head caught his partner as he stumbled, chuckling to himself. It was odd seeing the usually graceful young man so clumsy, but then, he’d just drunk himself practically into a stupor. It wasn’t really a surprise.
Kirihara was going to regret this the next day at work, Kamio thought, as he manhandled the young man away. Once they were safely out of sight, hidden in an alley, it was simple enough for Kamio to transport them both back to Kirihara’s house.
Back in Kirihara’s room, Kamio unceremoniously deposited the now-unconscious boy in his bed, heading to the kitchen to make himself a snack. He was interrupted by a muffled groan.
“Awake, are we?” Kamio asked teasingly, returning to Kirihara’s side sans snack. His only reply was a pillow thrown directly at his face. It passed through the spot where he was standing, thumping on the wall behind him sullenly.
“I feel sick,” Kirihara whimpered. Kamio had to admit the other boy looked to be in a terrible way. When he opened his eyes, they weren’t red, but his pupils did seem unnaturally dilated. It was possible then, that drugs had been passed around at that club. Kirihara may have accidentally ended up ingesting some.
Concerned now, Kamio took Kirihara’s wrist and helped him up, bringing him to the washroom where the latter promptly started retching. Nothing came up but blood, confirming Kamio’s hypothesis as far as he was concerned. Once that was over, at least, Kirihara could begin the process of healing.
Helping a grumpy and embarrassed Kirihara clean up after himself was a mildly traumatising experience, and one which Kamio sincerely hoped he’d never again be subject to.
“That bastard,” Kirihara muttered some time later, when he felt well enough to talk coherently - Kamio didn’t think that curses were very coherent, no matter how well expressed.
“Was taking drugs?” Kamio enquired pleasantly, swinging his legs over the arm of the couch and reclining back in it. The soft material stroked his back and he very nearly mewled with pleasure. It had been tiring, bringing Kirihara back and helping him as he purged his system of the drugs.
“Most likely,” Kirihara agreed. “Though I didn’t detect anything at first. It had an odd after-taste though.”
“Must have been that,” Kamio suggested, closing his eyes against the bright lights of Kirihara’s home. Reaching over to the switches beside the couch, Kirihara flipped most of the lights off, leaving only a single lamp on. The sudden darkness was a welcome relief for Kamio’s eyes, which were already starting to hurt.
“You’ve been using it a little too much today,” Kirihara said with a mild note of disapproval in his voice.
“Had to get you back somehow,” Kamio replied, eyes still closed. The frown was easing off his face, though. It was still a surprise when he felt the gentle fingers on his brow, massaging his temples carefully, preventing the budding headache from ever flowering.
After a period of time, Kamio finally managed to rouse himself. “Thanks,” he murmured softly, lifting the unmoving fingers from his face. Turning, he smiled at the sight of Kirihara sitting on the floor leaning against the arm of the couch, his arms draped loosely around Kamio.
At least he wouldn’t need to phase out to carry Kirihara just a short distance, Kamio thought in amusement, as he carefully picked the other man up. And though Kirihara would kill him in the morning, it would be well worth it to be able to spend the night here.
Kamio dropped a quick, fond kiss on Kirihara’s lips before proceeding to the bedroom, a wicked smile slowly spreading across his lips.
~fin...?
[Edit:]
Edited this, with a bit extra... just because I wanted to answer Runya's screech of exactly where they were going. Look at where they eventually ended up, dear! *cackles*
[/Edit]