Convincing
Title: Convincing
What: Digimon Tamers fanfiction (with elements of the WonderSwan Color games) - one-shot
Rating: PG for snogging of the slash variety
Words: 1163
Summary: Jenrya misses Terriermon, Ryo isn't quite an appropriate substitute, and not a lot actually happens. Japanese names, present tense, kind of fluffy Jenrya/Ryo, and hints of Ryo/Ruki. Unlike the last fic dump, actually written yesterday.
Alternate link: Fanfiction.net
Sample: Ryo termed it the ‘I’d Be All in Favor of a Digimon Tamers Anonymous Support Group’ Look, capital letters and all.
Even after a year, the room feels empty without Terriermon. Try as he might, the boy lounging on his bed isn’t quite an appropriate substitute.
“Momentai,” he says, uncannily.
Jenrya blinks. “Huh?”
“You’ve got that look on your face again.”
“What look?”
Ryo gives him a look of his own. “You know the one.” And he does: Ryo termed it the ‘I’d Be All in Favor of a Digimon Tamers Anonymous Support Group’ Look, capital letters and all. Shuichon says it looks like Takato missed dinner.
Jenrya sighs. “Well, how do you feel, being separated from your partner?”
The sudden steel in Ryo’s eyes makes him regret asking. “Relieved, actually. I don’t know if you’d noticed, but Cyberdramon was a little hard to control.”
“Why is that?” Jenrya asks quietly. Digimon are never to be spoken of in the past tense.
Ryo gives a nod to the long-forgotten WonderSwan Color on Jenrya’s shelf. “You’ve played the games.”
“Not for years,” protests Jenrya, trying to remember.
The older Tamer flops onto his back to stare at Jenrya’s ceiling. His voice is so flat he might as well be recounting last period’s chemistry test. “Cyberdramon had both Milleniumon and Monodramon’s consciousnesses. Milleniumon wanted to kill me because I wouldn’t...join him, Monodramon wanted to be my partner, instead of Milleniumon. Two minds, constantly at war in the same body... Monodramon tried to protect me by directing Milleniumon’s aggression at anything other than me.”
Jenrya is silent. “I’m sorry,” he attempts at length, for lack of anything better.
“Don’t be, it isn’t your fault or problem,” Ryo sighs, then looks back at him. “If you really want to make it up to me, then get up here; I’m sick of looking down at you and I feel like you love that old laptop more than me.”
“Move over, then.”
He unfolds himself from the floor, stands, lies on the bed facing Ryo. This bed wasn’t made for two people. Jenrya alone is kind of waiting for Jaarin to move out so he can kidnap his bed; with Ryo on they are too, too close to each other.
“Hello, that’s better,” says Ryo. “You know what this reminds me of? Good times saving the Digital World. Only your bed is much cozier than a rock.”
Ryo can call it cozy, but Jenrya does not think his knee touching his own is merely a coincidence. “Yeah, I remember that. Your outfit looked terrible.” The brunette splutters in amused disbelief, but this is good, this is familiar, this routine is reassuring: Jenrya is used to the pattern of this banter, if not the proximity from which shots are aimed. “Honestly, the whole techno-cowboy look? Had you been reading too many futuristic manga? Were those yellow gloves from under your mother’s kitchen sink? And I bet you ripped off that sleeve yourself.”
Thankfully, Ryo is laughing; unfortunately Ryo tends to double over and fall forward when he laughs in any stance. “Excuse me, Mr. Fashionista - no, you don’t get a masculine ending - but orange is hardly your color, anyway; it clashes with your hair.”
Jenrya grins. He wasn’t expecting that response. “What is, then?”
The blandness in Ryo's tone is deceptive, and says the conversation has taken a turn for the unknown. “I say you should just scrap colors and go au naturale.”
Ryo is a lot closer now, and Jenrya tells himself that the heat rising in his cheeks is because of his nearness and nothing to do with his words. “Classy, Akiyama. Real classy.”
“If you looked up ‘classy’ in the dictionary, you’d find my picture in the definition.” the older boy informs him, smirking.
“Would I find your mug shot under ‘modest’, too?” Jenrya inquires.
Ryo groans in mock pain. “O how you wound me, Jen. You’ve been spending too much time around the Ice Queen.”
Jenrya raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen her in ages, actually. How is Ruki?”
The deflation of Ryo’s melodrama is tangible. “Oh, you know. Same old Ruri.” Noting the nickname - he doesn’t use it often, and almost never in front of Ruki herself - Jenrya waits for Ryo to elaborate. “Like a diamond: Hard-headed, clearly still trying to convince herself she doesn’t like me.”
Having been set up on numerous blind dates with Juri’s friends, Jenrya is hardly one to give romantic advice, but: “What are you doing here, then? Shouldn’t you be off convincing her she does?” Ryo does or does not; there is no try for him.
The brunette shrugs. “You looked kind of bummed in study. Besides, you don’t need convincing.”
It takes a moment for Jenrya to unravel his meaning. “Excuse me?”
“You know.” Jenrya doesn’t realize he’s blushing until- “Momentai. Seriously, do you think I’d have told you to get up here if I cared?”
“But...Ru-”
“Ruki won’t care,” says Ryo, face so close to Jenrya’s he thinks he may drown in the blue of his eyes, “because Ruki’s not going to find out.”
Ryo kisses him then, and Jenrya lets him. If Ruki finds out, she will kill him for letting it happen, and then she’ll kill Ryo for starting it. If Takato finds out, he’ll laugh his head off, and then tell Juri, who’ll also laugh, but probably add an uncharacteristically snide remark about how none of the girls worked out. If Terriermon finds out, he’ll say, “Momentai. I won’t tell anyone, Jen.” Jenrya has no desire to be laughed at or dead, but while he knows exactly how his friends would react he doesn’t know what Ryo would do if he stopped him, so he lets him.
It’s not like being kissed by Amaya, the only friend of Juri’s to get that far; it’s not even like being grudgingly kissed by Ruki that one time Hirokazu thought playing Truth or Dare was a good idea. It’s all hard angles against his body in place of curves, Ryo hasn’t shaved, this feels inexplicably good and it is really time to stop analyzing.
When Jenrya finally, probably incompetently kisses back (stop thinking about it), Ryo gives an approving growl from the back of his throat, and there are hands everywhere, tangled in hair, dragging over hips, shoulders, the small of the back. Before he knows it, Jenrya is on his back, Ryo pinning him down.
A knock on the door and Shuichon’s voice stops things from going any further. “Jen, Ryo, dinner!”
Ryo rolls off Jenrya and off the bed, landing unceremoniously on the floor. Jenrya lets out a moan of frustration as the older Tamer stands and fixes his hair in Jenrya’s mirror. “I dunno about you, but after a few years of not needing to eat, I really appreciate your mom’s cooking.” he remarks.
Wordless, Jenrya rolls his eyes, and makes for the door. Ryo grabs his arm just before he gets there. “Green.”
“What?” Jenrya demands.
“You’d suit green,” Ryo says, before fixing Jenrya’s hair for him and opening the door.
What: Digimon Tamers fanfiction (with elements of the WonderSwan Color games) - one-shot
Rating: PG for snogging of the slash variety
Words: 1163
Summary: Jenrya misses Terriermon, Ryo isn't quite an appropriate substitute, and not a lot actually happens. Japanese names, present tense, kind of fluffy Jenrya/Ryo, and hints of Ryo/Ruki. Unlike the last fic dump, actually written yesterday.
Alternate link: Fanfiction.net
Sample: Ryo termed it the ‘I’d Be All in Favor of a Digimon Tamers Anonymous Support Group’ Look, capital letters and all.
Even after a year, the room feels empty without Terriermon. Try as he might, the boy lounging on his bed isn’t quite an appropriate substitute.
“Momentai,” he says, uncannily.
Jenrya blinks. “Huh?”
“You’ve got that look on your face again.”
“What look?”
Ryo gives him a look of his own. “You know the one.” And he does: Ryo termed it the ‘I’d Be All in Favor of a Digimon Tamers Anonymous Support Group’ Look, capital letters and all. Shuichon says it looks like Takato missed dinner.
Jenrya sighs. “Well, how do you feel, being separated from your partner?”
The sudden steel in Ryo’s eyes makes him regret asking. “Relieved, actually. I don’t know if you’d noticed, but Cyberdramon was a little hard to control.”
“Why is that?” Jenrya asks quietly. Digimon are never to be spoken of in the past tense.
Ryo gives a nod to the long-forgotten WonderSwan Color on Jenrya’s shelf. “You’ve played the games.”
“Not for years,” protests Jenrya, trying to remember.
The older Tamer flops onto his back to stare at Jenrya’s ceiling. His voice is so flat he might as well be recounting last period’s chemistry test. “Cyberdramon had both Milleniumon and Monodramon’s consciousnesses. Milleniumon wanted to kill me because I wouldn’t...join him, Monodramon wanted to be my partner, instead of Milleniumon. Two minds, constantly at war in the same body... Monodramon tried to protect me by directing Milleniumon’s aggression at anything other than me.”
Jenrya is silent. “I’m sorry,” he attempts at length, for lack of anything better.
“Don’t be, it isn’t your fault or problem,” Ryo sighs, then looks back at him. “If you really want to make it up to me, then get up here; I’m sick of looking down at you and I feel like you love that old laptop more than me.”
“Move over, then.”
He unfolds himself from the floor, stands, lies on the bed facing Ryo. This bed wasn’t made for two people. Jenrya alone is kind of waiting for Jaarin to move out so he can kidnap his bed; with Ryo on they are too, too close to each other.
“Hello, that’s better,” says Ryo. “You know what this reminds me of? Good times saving the Digital World. Only your bed is much cozier than a rock.”
Ryo can call it cozy, but Jenrya does not think his knee touching his own is merely a coincidence. “Yeah, I remember that. Your outfit looked terrible.” The brunette splutters in amused disbelief, but this is good, this is familiar, this routine is reassuring: Jenrya is used to the pattern of this banter, if not the proximity from which shots are aimed. “Honestly, the whole techno-cowboy look? Had you been reading too many futuristic manga? Were those yellow gloves from under your mother’s kitchen sink? And I bet you ripped off that sleeve yourself.”
Thankfully, Ryo is laughing; unfortunately Ryo tends to double over and fall forward when he laughs in any stance. “Excuse me, Mr. Fashionista - no, you don’t get a masculine ending - but orange is hardly your color, anyway; it clashes with your hair.”
Jenrya grins. He wasn’t expecting that response. “What is, then?”
The blandness in Ryo's tone is deceptive, and says the conversation has taken a turn for the unknown. “I say you should just scrap colors and go au naturale.”
Ryo is a lot closer now, and Jenrya tells himself that the heat rising in his cheeks is because of his nearness and nothing to do with his words. “Classy, Akiyama. Real classy.”
“If you looked up ‘classy’ in the dictionary, you’d find my picture in the definition.” the older boy informs him, smirking.
“Would I find your mug shot under ‘modest’, too?” Jenrya inquires.
Ryo groans in mock pain. “O how you wound me, Jen. You’ve been spending too much time around the Ice Queen.”
Jenrya raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen her in ages, actually. How is Ruki?”
The deflation of Ryo’s melodrama is tangible. “Oh, you know. Same old Ruri.” Noting the nickname - he doesn’t use it often, and almost never in front of Ruki herself - Jenrya waits for Ryo to elaborate. “Like a diamond: Hard-headed, clearly still trying to convince herself she doesn’t like me.”
Having been set up on numerous blind dates with Juri’s friends, Jenrya is hardly one to give romantic advice, but: “What are you doing here, then? Shouldn’t you be off convincing her she does?” Ryo does or does not; there is no try for him.
The brunette shrugs. “You looked kind of bummed in study. Besides, you don’t need convincing.”
It takes a moment for Jenrya to unravel his meaning. “Excuse me?”
“You know.” Jenrya doesn’t realize he’s blushing until- “Momentai. Seriously, do you think I’d have told you to get up here if I cared?”
“But...Ru-”
“Ruki won’t care,” says Ryo, face so close to Jenrya’s he thinks he may drown in the blue of his eyes, “because Ruki’s not going to find out.”
Ryo kisses him then, and Jenrya lets him. If Ruki finds out, she will kill him for letting it happen, and then she’ll kill Ryo for starting it. If Takato finds out, he’ll laugh his head off, and then tell Juri, who’ll also laugh, but probably add an uncharacteristically snide remark about how none of the girls worked out. If Terriermon finds out, he’ll say, “Momentai. I won’t tell anyone, Jen.” Jenrya has no desire to be laughed at or dead, but while he knows exactly how his friends would react he doesn’t know what Ryo would do if he stopped him, so he lets him.
It’s not like being kissed by Amaya, the only friend of Juri’s to get that far; it’s not even like being grudgingly kissed by Ruki that one time Hirokazu thought playing Truth or Dare was a good idea. It’s all hard angles against his body in place of curves, Ryo hasn’t shaved, this feels inexplicably good and it is really time to stop analyzing.
When Jenrya finally, probably incompetently kisses back (stop thinking about it), Ryo gives an approving growl from the back of his throat, and there are hands everywhere, tangled in hair, dragging over hips, shoulders, the small of the back. Before he knows it, Jenrya is on his back, Ryo pinning him down.
A knock on the door and Shuichon’s voice stops things from going any further. “Jen, Ryo, dinner!”
Ryo rolls off Jenrya and off the bed, landing unceremoniously on the floor. Jenrya lets out a moan of frustration as the older Tamer stands and fixes his hair in Jenrya’s mirror. “I dunno about you, but after a few years of not needing to eat, I really appreciate your mom’s cooking.” he remarks.
Wordless, Jenrya rolls his eyes, and makes for the door. Ryo grabs his arm just before he gets there. “Green.”
“What?” Jenrya demands.
“You’d suit green,” Ryo says, before fixing Jenrya’s hair for him and opening the door.