Thoughts And Mutters [PG; Kamio/Shinji]
Title: Thoughts And Mutters
Author: worblehat
Genre: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Kamio/Shinji
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all this, pretty much.
Notes: Written for spurious, for her birthday! I tried to make this short in case I unintentionally messed up, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. ♥
Word Count: 1,251
Kamio liked to lean. He liked the feel of something sturdy against him, something he could use for rest or as a point to push off from; a way to jump-start into his rhythm.
Usually he leaned against walls, desks, chairs - things that couldn't get upset or uncomfortable if he stayed put for a while. When he watched movies at other people's houses, he liked to sit on the floor, leaning back against the couch.
Unless he was at Shinji's.
The first time Kamio leaned against him it was by accident. Shinji didn't say anything about it, eyes focused on the television while he mumbled about how the schedule for his favourite show had been changed and why that was a big inconvenience. Kamio hadn't realised until he left later that night that he'd spent over two hours with his head on Shinji's shoulder, watching the television at a slight angle. He wondered if Shinji would say anything about it the next day, but nothing out of the ordinary passed from Shinji's lips.
Nothing happened the following time either. Kamio walked back from practice with Shinji, accepting a spur-of-the-moment invitation. He felt more exhausted that day than usual, a result of the more intense practice regime Tachibana wanted to try. They sat together, Shinji flipping on a channel and checking his watch, Kamio stifling a yawn. His head lolled a little as he tried to keep it upright with his palm, finally giving up and letting it rest on Shinji's shoulder.
Shinji made no move to try and wake Kamio when he fell asleep across his lap, curled up awkwardly. Kamio woke with a stiff neck but a strange spread of warmth in his veins when Shinji's fingertips brushed against his cheek. He blushed. All Shinji said was "oh, you're awake. Your mom said she wants you to be home in half an hour for dinner. You could have dinner here but I guess that would go against her wishes, which is too bad because my mom spent all this time cooking extra and..."
Kamio blinked as Shinji continued to talk, interrupting him to stutter a quick apology and grab his tennis bag before heading home.
He kept waiting. He wasn't sure for what.
As he waited, after-school visits to Shinji's became more frequent. Kamio didn't always fall asleep when he went over, though he usually ended up resting his head on Shinji's thighs, his own legs hooked casually over the edge of the couch. Sometimes he looked up at Shinji, other times he shifted on his side, his hand on Shinji's knee as they watched television.
He tried not to think about it. He didn't think about it until afterwards - after he'd left, after Shinji had gotten up, after he was able to realise just what he was doing. When he did allow such thoughts to the forefront of his mind, he blushed. At night, he would remember the way Shinji's lips had looked, or how Shinji mumbled, shifted, frowned, smiled - he'd remember all of it, silently wondering why his heartbeat seemed faster.
Tuesdays and Thursdays became the days that he automatically went over to Shinji's for a few hours. They'd do homework, listen to music, discuss tennis and whatever else seemed worth doing or talking about. Shinji tended to talk longer than he did, but he didn't mind. It was nice, in a way, that string of constant words, spoken in a low voice that vibrated from lips that -
Kamio opened his eyes. He blinked.
Shinji was bent over him, mouth closed, his lips covering Kamio's. Both lips were dry and Shinji's tongue slipped between, wet and slow. When the kiss broke, Kamio sat up, sitting a little further than usual on the couch. He brought his hand to his lips and cursed the pink heat he felt rising in his cheeks.
He turned to Shinji. "Baka! What was that for!"
"For?" echoed Shinji in his usual mutter, his eyes showing a hint of surprise. "I wanted to try kissing on the mouth but maybe I should have waited. I guess there are some people who don't like spontaneity in a relationship. I could go to the store and buy a card first, or maybe I could get some roses -"
" - relationship?" Kamio nearly shrieked, the word burning itself into his consciousness. He forced his voice lower, not wanting to risk being overheard. It was difficult to think just then: he'd been asleep, dreaming of things he could no longer remember, and then there'd been warmth, followed by a sweet softness that made him part his lips, rousing him from his dream slowly and peacefully.
He tried to calm himself. "You want a relationship?" he asked more quietly.
Shinji looked at him, his head titled at an almost unnoticeable angle. "Don't you?"
Kamio blushed.
"You never told me that," he said in a tone to rival Shinji's well-practiced murmur.
"You were always asleep," said Shinji. "It's silly to ask someone out when they can't really hear you. Besides, I like you and you keep cuddling up to me so it makes sense for us to be together when you think about it..."
Kamio sat closer, edging in nervously. He looked at his hands, his knees, Shinji's knees, Shinji's watch, his watch, the floor - anywhere but Shinji's face. Taking a deep breath, he looked back up. What he expected to see, he wasn't sure, but all he saw was Shinji, looking back at him, no sense of discomfort in his features.
Kamio wondered what they were supposed to do now. Was Shinji going to kiss him again? Were they supposed to tell each other how they felt? Why wasn't there some sort of guidebook to this kind of stuff?
"We don't have to kiss," said Shinji. Kamio sputtered, wondering if Shinji could read his mind. "By the way," Shinji continued, "your mother called and said she wanted you home by seven-thirty tonight."
"Oh," said Kamio, glad for a distraction, no matter how minor. "What time is it now?"
"Six-fifteen."
Kamio nodded. His blood felt like it was pumping too fast and he couldn't slow it down, no matter how many breaths he took. He tried to think, to find the words that would fit this situation, even though he hadn't ever experienced it before. His mouth opened to speak.
Shinji un-muted the television. Kamio deflated a little, partly in disappointment, mostly in relief. He turned his attention towards the screen.
It was almost seven when he sat up again, raising his head from Shinji's lap, disentangling their intertwined fingers. Both stood as Kamio got ready to leave.
His hand was on the doorknob when he turned around. Shinji was there, watching him. Kamio leaned in as an afterthought, brushing their lips together quickly for a goodbye kiss.
He walked down three blocks before he realised what he'd done. He stopped, hand to his mouth.
His phone buzzed and he flipped it open. A message from Shinji was in his inbox.
You left your math book here. I'll bring it tomorrow.
His face fell. It was such an ordinary message to receive, after all that. It was so...Shinji.
His phone was barely in his pocket before it rang again.
We should kiss more. I like it.
Kamio's face burned hot; he texted his reply.
Me too.
Author: worblehat
Genre: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Kamio/Shinji
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all this, pretty much.
Notes: Written for spurious, for her birthday! I tried to make this short in case I unintentionally messed up, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. ♥
Word Count: 1,251
Kamio liked to lean. He liked the feel of something sturdy against him, something he could use for rest or as a point to push off from; a way to jump-start into his rhythm.
Usually he leaned against walls, desks, chairs - things that couldn't get upset or uncomfortable if he stayed put for a while. When he watched movies at other people's houses, he liked to sit on the floor, leaning back against the couch.
Unless he was at Shinji's.
The first time Kamio leaned against him it was by accident. Shinji didn't say anything about it, eyes focused on the television while he mumbled about how the schedule for his favourite show had been changed and why that was a big inconvenience. Kamio hadn't realised until he left later that night that he'd spent over two hours with his head on Shinji's shoulder, watching the television at a slight angle. He wondered if Shinji would say anything about it the next day, but nothing out of the ordinary passed from Shinji's lips.
Nothing happened the following time either. Kamio walked back from practice with Shinji, accepting a spur-of-the-moment invitation. He felt more exhausted that day than usual, a result of the more intense practice regime Tachibana wanted to try. They sat together, Shinji flipping on a channel and checking his watch, Kamio stifling a yawn. His head lolled a little as he tried to keep it upright with his palm, finally giving up and letting it rest on Shinji's shoulder.
Shinji made no move to try and wake Kamio when he fell asleep across his lap, curled up awkwardly. Kamio woke with a stiff neck but a strange spread of warmth in his veins when Shinji's fingertips brushed against his cheek. He blushed. All Shinji said was "oh, you're awake. Your mom said she wants you to be home in half an hour for dinner. You could have dinner here but I guess that would go against her wishes, which is too bad because my mom spent all this time cooking extra and..."
Kamio blinked as Shinji continued to talk, interrupting him to stutter a quick apology and grab his tennis bag before heading home.
He kept waiting. He wasn't sure for what.
As he waited, after-school visits to Shinji's became more frequent. Kamio didn't always fall asleep when he went over, though he usually ended up resting his head on Shinji's thighs, his own legs hooked casually over the edge of the couch. Sometimes he looked up at Shinji, other times he shifted on his side, his hand on Shinji's knee as they watched television.
He tried not to think about it. He didn't think about it until afterwards - after he'd left, after Shinji had gotten up, after he was able to realise just what he was doing. When he did allow such thoughts to the forefront of his mind, he blushed. At night, he would remember the way Shinji's lips had looked, or how Shinji mumbled, shifted, frowned, smiled - he'd remember all of it, silently wondering why his heartbeat seemed faster.
Tuesdays and Thursdays became the days that he automatically went over to Shinji's for a few hours. They'd do homework, listen to music, discuss tennis and whatever else seemed worth doing or talking about. Shinji tended to talk longer than he did, but he didn't mind. It was nice, in a way, that string of constant words, spoken in a low voice that vibrated from lips that -
Kamio opened his eyes. He blinked.
Shinji was bent over him, mouth closed, his lips covering Kamio's. Both lips were dry and Shinji's tongue slipped between, wet and slow. When the kiss broke, Kamio sat up, sitting a little further than usual on the couch. He brought his hand to his lips and cursed the pink heat he felt rising in his cheeks.
He turned to Shinji. "Baka! What was that for!"
"For?" echoed Shinji in his usual mutter, his eyes showing a hint of surprise. "I wanted to try kissing on the mouth but maybe I should have waited. I guess there are some people who don't like spontaneity in a relationship. I could go to the store and buy a card first, or maybe I could get some roses -"
" - relationship?" Kamio nearly shrieked, the word burning itself into his consciousness. He forced his voice lower, not wanting to risk being overheard. It was difficult to think just then: he'd been asleep, dreaming of things he could no longer remember, and then there'd been warmth, followed by a sweet softness that made him part his lips, rousing him from his dream slowly and peacefully.
He tried to calm himself. "You want a relationship?" he asked more quietly.
Shinji looked at him, his head titled at an almost unnoticeable angle. "Don't you?"
Kamio blushed.
"You never told me that," he said in a tone to rival Shinji's well-practiced murmur.
"You were always asleep," said Shinji. "It's silly to ask someone out when they can't really hear you. Besides, I like you and you keep cuddling up to me so it makes sense for us to be together when you think about it..."
Kamio sat closer, edging in nervously. He looked at his hands, his knees, Shinji's knees, Shinji's watch, his watch, the floor - anywhere but Shinji's face. Taking a deep breath, he looked back up. What he expected to see, he wasn't sure, but all he saw was Shinji, looking back at him, no sense of discomfort in his features.
Kamio wondered what they were supposed to do now. Was Shinji going to kiss him again? Were they supposed to tell each other how they felt? Why wasn't there some sort of guidebook to this kind of stuff?
"We don't have to kiss," said Shinji. Kamio sputtered, wondering if Shinji could read his mind. "By the way," Shinji continued, "your mother called and said she wanted you home by seven-thirty tonight."
"Oh," said Kamio, glad for a distraction, no matter how minor. "What time is it now?"
"Six-fifteen."
Kamio nodded. His blood felt like it was pumping too fast and he couldn't slow it down, no matter how many breaths he took. He tried to think, to find the words that would fit this situation, even though he hadn't ever experienced it before. His mouth opened to speak.
Shinji un-muted the television. Kamio deflated a little, partly in disappointment, mostly in relief. He turned his attention towards the screen.
It was almost seven when he sat up again, raising his head from Shinji's lap, disentangling their intertwined fingers. Both stood as Kamio got ready to leave.
His hand was on the doorknob when he turned around. Shinji was there, watching him. Kamio leaned in as an afterthought, brushing their lips together quickly for a goodbye kiss.
He walked down three blocks before he realised what he'd done. He stopped, hand to his mouth.
His phone buzzed and he flipped it open. A message from Shinji was in his inbox.
You left your math book here. I'll bring it tomorrow.
His face fell. It was such an ordinary message to receive, after all that. It was so...Shinji.
His phone was barely in his pocket before it rang again.
We should kiss more. I like it.
Kamio's face burned hot; he texted his reply.
Me too.