Ookiku Furikabutte, "Physical, part ii," Abe/Mihashi, R
A commissioned piece written for a commissioner who prefers to remain anonymous! His request: Mihashi needs a physical. Abe's there to help.
Enjoy!
You can find the entire story here: part i • part ii • part iii
And the Mihashi-POV sequel here: part i • part ii • part iii
Physical
part ii
by mistr3ss Quickly
Mihashi comes over on Sunday, his bag heavy with textbooks Abe is, for once, completely disinterested in opening. He apologizes first thing when Abe opens the door and invites him in, doesn't say what he's sorry for, but Abe's no idiot and Mihashi knows it. Looks pleased when Abe waves away his apologies and invites him upstairs, even relaxes a little once the bedroom door's closed and Abe's confirmed that it's just the two of them in the house, his mom and dad and brother all out until evening.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," Abe says, settling down next to his pitcher. "About doctors. Why you don't like them."
Mihashi tenses up. Starts apologizing again straight away.
Abe cuts him off with a frown. "I'm not mad at you," he says (lies). "I just want to know what happened. With your last doctor."
"N-nothing," Mihashi says, without meeting Abe's gaze. Clearly full of shit.
"The last time you went to the doctor," Abe says, "what was it for?"
Mihashi fidgets a little. Licks his lips. "Shots," he says.
"Vaccinations?"
A nod. "And stuff. My weight. Because I wasn't eating."
Not surprising. "How old were you?"
"Twelve?"
Playing for Mihoshi, then. Not the best time of his life.
"What was the worst part of the visit?"
More fidgeting. Mihashi looks miserable. Almost miserable enough for Abe to give up and cut the guy a break.
Almost.
"I was doing bad," Mihashi says, finally. "The doctor said so. That I was too skinny. And I'd have to stop pitching. If I didn't gain weight."
Ah.
"Did the doctor scold you?" Abe says.
Mihashi nods. Shakes his head. Gives Abe a worried look. "He asked a lot of questions," he says. "I didn't answer right, so he got mad at me. H-he wanted me to go to another doctor. Because I was shy. He said that was bad."
Scared him witless, then yelled at him for being afraid. Guilt twists in Abe's gut. He quells it with a reminder that he was just a kid when he did the same thing to his pitcher. Not an adult. Not a professional trained to deal with other people.
"You know that's not how doctors are supposed to act, right?" Abe says. "They're supposed to take care of people, not get mad at them."
"I'm a b-bother," Mihashi says. He shrinks in on himself a little when he says it. "He tried. To take care of me. But he couldn't. Because I'm strange."
Arguing with that would be ridiculous. Abe clears his throat.
"You've changed a lot since then," he says.
"I have?"
Abe nods. "You're seventeen, not twelve," he says. "You're the ace of a Koushien-qualified team. And you've been maintaining your weight since you were a freshman. Put on some good muscle." Some very good muscle, muscle Abe thinks about perhaps a bit too much, a bit too often. He figures Mihashi doesn't need to know that. "You're the picture of health. No one's going to scold you."
Mihashi doesn't say anything. Doesn't look convinced, either.
Which means it's time for stage two.
"Look," Abe says, "I'm certain no one's going to get mad at you. But if it'll make you feel better, I can check you. Now. Make sure there's nothing wrong. If you want."
Mihashi blinks at him. Not disgusted, thank god. Not agreeing, though. Just looking at him. Like he doesn't get it or something.
Abe glares at the wall. "I'm planning to go to medical school after we graduate from Nishiura," he says, just like he practiced saying to his reflection, just in case Mihashi didn't go along with him right away. "I've started researching general medical practice to prepare for that, so I know what I'm doing."
He glances at his pitcher. Mihashi's staring at him, eyes wide, mouth open a little. More than completely unnerving.
"What?"
"You're going to become a doctor?" Mihashi says.
"Yeah?"
"Wow. That's-that's really cool."
"It is?"
Mihashi nods, hard enough to snap his neck.
Well.
"Then let me give you a preliminary diagnostic physical," Abe says. "Please. To help me practice."
It sounds no less creepy coming out of his mouth with Mihashi there to hear it than it sounded when he practiced saying it to his reflection. Sounds good enough, though, Mihashi hesitating only a little before nodding.
"Okay," he says. "If it'll help you."
It won't. Probably. But it will get him his pitcher for their game at Koushien, which is good enough, so Abe nods and rises to his feet. Digs the bag of stuff he's collected just for this exercise out of his dresser, buried under his winter clothes where he's pretty sure no one would go snooping. Upends its contents carefully onto his bed.
Scrubs for him. A hospital gown for Mihashi. A stethoscope. Tongue depressor. Blood pressure cuff. All purchased from the kind of store he's heard Tajima joke about over the years. The kind of store he'd never thought he'd go into, let alone patronize. The kind of store he honestly hopes never to visit again.
It's worth it to get him to pitch for us at Koushien, he tells himself, just as he told himself when he walked in and started seriously browsing the store's selection of fetish items. If he's going to be uncomfortable going to the doctor, I can stand a little discomfort, too.
Nevermind that he has to go for a physical himself, not the most pleasant thing in the world. Abe does his best not to think about it.
"Here," he says, handing Mihashi the hospital gown. "Put this on."
Mihashi takes the gown. Gives Abe his most pathetic look.
"Do I have to?"
Abe swallows his temper. "Yes," he says. "Go on."
"Here?"
"We change together all the time in the clubhouse and at camp," Abe says. "This isn't any different."
Mihashi doesn't look entirely convinced. Doesn't argue, though, setting the gown aside and pulling off his t-shirt, showing off all of the muscle he's put on over the past two years. Abe watches him long enough to make sure he's not going to chicken out, then shucks off his own shirt when Mihashi starts unbuckling his belt, drops his pants before reaching for the scrubs.
"Why are you-oh." Mihashi licks his lips, staring unabashedly when Abe turns to see what he wants. "I didn't think you'd-not like a real doctor."
Abe resists the urge to roll his eyes, busies himself with pulling on the scrub pants instead, fumbling a little with the shirt, feeling oddly naked under Mihashi's direct gaze. He drapes the stethoscope around his neck, just to help with the illusion. Turns to face his pitcher.
Who hasn't moved a muscle, standing there in his boxers, hands frozen over the hospital gown. Giving Abe a look of abject terror, every single one of those beautiful muscles tensing up when Abe sighs and takes a step towards him.
"It's just me," he says, reaching out and prying the gown out of his pitcher's hands. He unfolds it. Holds it open. "Relax. You know I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to yell at you, either."
Mihashi swallows. Nods. Slips his arms through the sleeves of the gown.
"I can't tie it," he says.
"Then turn around," Abe says. "I'll do it for you."
"What if I can't tie it when I'm at the doctor's office?" Mihashi says, once Abe's got the first knot tied.
A valid point. Abe glares at the back of his pitcher's head.
"Put it on backwards, tie it, then turn it around the right way after it's tied," he says. He stops tying halfway through the second tie. "Do you want to try that?"
A moment. Mihashi nods.
"All right, hang on. Let me get these untied."
Untying knots is harder than tying them. Abe glares at his handiwork, picking at the knot with his fingernails, wishing he'd listened when his father told him years ago to break the habit of biting his nails. By the time he's got them undone, Mihashi's tensed back up, looking at him uncertainly when he steps back and tells him to put the gown on backwards.
"You can put your arms through the arm-holes to get it tied," he says when Mihashi tries to do the first tie through the slit, without much luck.
Mihashi hunches in on himself a little and does what he's told, has the gown tied in less than a minute. He gets it turned around without too much difficulty or flailing, looks at Abe like he's expecting to be praised once he's got the thing on properly, a little baggy on him perhaps, but good enough.
"Good," Abe says. "Now take off your boxers and we'll get started."
"Take off my-"
Abe frowns. "You don't keep them on during an exam," he says.
"B-but-"
"The gown covers you. You're fine. It's just the way things are done."
Probably not the most comforting he's ever been, but really. And besides, it works, Mihashi blushing a lot but cooperating, shucking his boxers down his legs and folding them on top of his clothes.
"You'll be alone when you do this at the clinic," Abe says, when Mihashi straightens and looks at him expectantly. "When you're done, a nurse will come in and check your vitals. We'll do that next. Come sit down over here."
He pats the foot of his bed. Watches, pleased, as Mihashi doesn't hesitate to do as he's told, climbing awkwardly up onto the mattress like he's worried about his gown slipping.
"B-better," Mihashi says.
"What is?"
"Your bed," Mihashi says. "The bed has paper on it. At the clinic. This feels nicer."
Abe has fantasies that start out with Mihashi enjoying how soft his bed is. Fantasies that usually end with Mihashi's back safely cushioned on his bed while Abe rides him, coming all over him. Fucking himself on Mihashi's cock until Mihashi comes, too, hands on Abe's hips, handling him roughly. Using him.
Not the kind of thing he should be thinking about when Mihashi's actually in his room. Staring at him. Looking anxious.
"Right. Well. The one at the clinic will probably have paper on it," Abe says. "You'll just have to bear with it."
Mihashi nods. He looks a little less freaked out.
Good, Abe thinks. It's working.
"I'm going to take your temperature first," he says. "Then your blood pressure. Okay?"
Another nod. No hesitation to open his mouth when Abe holds out the thermometer. Big brown eyes following Abe's every move once the thermometer's in place and Abe's working on untangling the blood pressure cuff's cables. He looks almost kind of exactly like Shun looked, the one time Abe tagged along for one of the kid's check-ups, back when Shun was just a toddler. All curiosity with no fear, exactly what Abe was going for, though the memory of his brother howling after getting a shot considerably dampens his feeling of success. Mihashi's a grown man, he tells himself. Old enough to know that shots and blood-tests aren't the end of the world. Distracted enough by everything else that maybe he'll forget about the blood-test until he's at the clinic and can't get away before they've tested him.
His temperature's 37.1 when the thermometer beeps. Nice and normal. Blood pressure just a little lower than normal when Abe measures it, though that could just be the cuff he's using, the cheapest one he could find, no telling how accurate it is.
Abe marks both down in his notebook. "Blood pressure and temperature are both normal," he says. "I'll need to check your pulse next. Give me your hand."
No hesitation from Mihashi there. Abe takes his hand, rests it in his palm. It's not as warm as he'd like, but it's not cold and clammy like he was afraid it might be. He gives in to the temptation to rest his palm against Mihashi's for a second before sliding his hand down to check the guy's pulse. Presses his fingers against his pitcher's wrist, counts the beats of his pitcher's heart for ten seconds, according to the clock on his bedside table.
It's faster than it should be, probably. Maybe. Just as fast as it should be for a guy who's nervous.
"Pulse is fine," he says, when he notices Mihashi staring at him expectantly. "We'll check your ENT next. Ears, nose, throat. Open your moth and say 'ahh.'"
He reaches for one of the tongue depressors while Mihashi licks his lips and opens his mouth, tongue hanging out like a dog's. Stops. Frowns.
Gloves, he thinks. The nurse will probably be wearing gloves for this part.
"You're not allergic to latex are you?" he says, the question scaring Mihashi's tongue back into the guy's mouth where it belongs. He reaches for the gloves he bought while he waits for Mihashi to answer, argues one of the bright blue things out of the package they came in, a package that came with all kinds of weird suggestions written on it in tiny letters, suggestions that made Abe's cock stiffen, mostly because they were unusual, things he hadn't thought about doing with gloves, before.
Mihashi doesn't answer. Looks like he's frozen up when Abe glances at him.
"Mihashi," Abe says. "Latex allergy?"
"I don't-I don't know?" Mihashi says.
Freaking out over nothing. Again.
"It's all right," Abe says. "I got non-latex gloves. Just you should tell them that you're allergic if you are so they can wear non-latex gloves when they work with you. The last time you went to the doctor, did you itch at all afterwards?"
A moment, then a nod. "Where I had blood drawn," Mihashi says. "From the Band-aid."
A small allergy, then. Maybe.
"Well, to be safe, tell them you'd prefer non-latex gloves," Abe says. "They'll have them, so you don't have to worry about being a bother. It's okay to tell them stuff like that. They'd like that better than if you just keep quiet and have a bad reaction."
Mihashi nods hard enough to snap his neck. Whatever, Abe thinks. As long as he gets the point, that's what's important.
He turns his attention back to pulling on the gloves, the silence and Mihashi's unblinking gaze making his skin prickle. The hospital manga he's read never make gloves look so uncooperative. Probably because the characters' palms aren't sweaty. Abe blames the heat gathering in his bedroom. Considers reaching over to turn the air conditioner back up, but the remote's not sterilized and Mihashi's not wearing very much, probably wouldn't appreciate having the room any colder than it is.
"Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and say 'aah,'" he says, once he's got the gloves on and the tongue depressor in his hand. Everything feels different through the thin layer of rubber. The tongue depressor feels smoother. Mihashi's chin feels warmer. Softer. Much more interesting than it should be, Abe's pretty sure, frowning a bit as he returns his attention to Mihashi's mouth, the guy's tongue hanging out once again like a dog's.
His throat looks fine. Dips open when he says aah. Tightens a little when Abe pushes the tongue depressor back a little too far.
"Sorry," he says. "Didn't mean to gag you."
"You didn't," Mihashi says. Clearly lying.
"Right," Abe says. "Well. Anyway. The doctor will check your ears and nose after this. I don't have any of the equipment to do that, but it doesn't hurt so you don't need to worry about it. Okay? They'll just look in your ears and nose. Make sure you're okay."
Mihashi nods. Watches Abe toss the tongue depressor into the trash. Licks his lips.
"E-elephants," he says. Has what looks suspiciously like a smile pulling at the side of his mouth when he says it.
"Huh?"
"When I was little," Mihashi says. "My doctor said that's what he was checking for. In my ears and nose. For elephants."
It was dragons when Abe's doctor said it. Abe believed it until his brother was old enough to start asking about the dragons. Realized only then that he'd been had.
"My doctor said that, too," Abe says. Figures Mihashi doesn't need to know about the dragons. Doesn't need to know about Abe falling for it, either. He pulls at the stethoscope, gets it undraped from his shoulders with more difficulty than he feels is strictly necessary, stupid rubber tubing catching on his scrubs, making him look weird. Puts the earpieces in without looking up to see if Mihashi's looking at him funny.
He opens his mouth to tell Mihashi to take deep breaths so he can listen to his lungs, but Mihashi's already sitting up straighter, breathing deep and even like he does during meditation, like he does when he's deeply asleep at summer camp, lying so close that Abe can feel the heat coming off of him. Not that Abe tries to stay awake and listen to his pitcher breathe or anything-that would be weird-but.
"Good," he says, pressing the stethoscope against Mihashi's chest. "Keep breathing like that." He can hear Mihashi's heart beating, faster than normal, maybe, but not pounding or anything. He's warm under the hospital gown. Feels ... good. Warm and strong and strikingly masculine, not skinny and weak like he was when Abe first met him.
His heart beats a little faster when Abe drags his fingers down one side of his chest, muscles strengthened as a completely unintentional side-effect of the exercises Mihashi did to strengthen his arms and back. He breathes a little faster when Abe presses the stethoscope against his back. Shivers.
"Sorry," Abe says. "It's cold. Bear with it for me."
"It's not," Mihashi says. "It t-tickles. A little."
Abe frowns and doesn't answer, listens to him breathe instead. Mihashi has a mole just to the left of his spine, just visible where the gown's parted. Maybe a hand's breadth from the dip and curve of his ass. Exactly where Abe's pretty sure he shouldn't be tempted to look.
"Breathing is fine," he says. He drapes the stethoscope around his neck. "The doctor might want to test your lung capacity, too. He'll have you blow into a tube attached to a box. It's not a bad thing. Probably just curiosity about how much your lungs can hold. Okay?"
Mihashi nods. "Like a breathalyzer test," he says.
"How do you-"
A shrug. "I read about it," Mihashi says. "Once."
"Oh. Well, yeah, kind of like that. Only he'll want you to breathe out completely to see how much air your lungs hold." Abe would like to know Mihashi's lung capacity, himself. Figures it's probably just as impressive as everything else he knows about his pitcher. "I'm going to test your reflexes next. Scoot forward so your legs hang off the edge of the bed."
Mihashi scoots, his gown gaping enough in the back that Abe can tell he's sitting bare-assed on the bed. The thought that Mihashi's balls are touching his bedspread shouldn't send a jolt of excitement down Abe's spine, but it does anyway, makes him feel more than a little bit like a pervert when he looks at his pitcher and finds the guy staring at him. Waiting patiently for the next instruction.
"All right," he says. "I'm going to tap your knees. Don't move intentionally, okay? Let your reflexes do it for you."
"Okay."
He watches Abe tap his knees. Looks pleased when his legs kick just like they're supposed to. Looks relaxed. At ease. No longer a ball of tension radiating anxiety.
It seems a shame to ruin that.
But.
"All right," Abe says. "That's the general physical. Next he'll want to check you for signs of a hernia or drug use."
Mihashi nods. Still looks calm. Abe wonders if that's a sign that his plan is working, or if it just means that his pitcher's too naïve to know what's coming next.
He's pretty sure it's the latter. Takes a deep breath.
"So we'll start by checking you for signs of a hernia," he says. "Stand up and lift your gown, please."
Sure enough, Mihashi's face falls, his eyes widening.
"L-lift my-"
"Gown, yes," Abe says. He can't quite make himself look his pitcher in the eye. "You'll have to turn your head and cough once. I'll be able to tell from your body's-from how your, ah, anatomy moves-if you have a hernia."
"B-but you'll-you'll see it," Mihashi says. "I took off my boxers."
It. Abe resists the urge to roll his eyes at his pitcher's shyness He's seen Mihashi's penis before, plenty of times. Everyone on the team has. Just like everyone on the team has seen everyone else's penis on the team. Communal bathing during summer camp does that.
But they don't have a doctor at summer camp, wouldn't bathe with the doctor even if one did come along. They never bathe with Mr. Shiga, anyway. So maybe it's different, Abe thinks. Different enough to freak his pitcher right out.
Abe frowns.
"There's nothing weird about it," he says. "Everyone who has a physical does this. Didn't you have to do it last time?"
Mihashi freezes, tense all over. "Y-yes," he says. "But. It was weird."
Weirder when it's a female doctor, like it was when Abe went in for a physical before starting high school. He figures Mihashi doesn't need to know that. Might scare the guy away irreparably from doing what he really needs to do if he knows there's a possibility he'll have to expose himself in front of a woman.
"Think of it like getting undressed before bathing at camp," he says, instead. "It takes less than a minute, and it doesn't hurt. It'll be over before you know it."
Mihashi swallows, hands fidgeting nervously with the front of his gown, pulling it tight across his groin. Abe can see the ridge of his cockhead, the curve of the shaft above. Drags his gaze back up to his pitcher's face, lined with worry, before he can start thinking about anything truly inappropriate.
"It's awkward, but it's better than not pitching at Koushien," he says, as gently as he can. "Right?"
A moment. A nod. Barely there, but there enough.
"What do I do if it-if it stands up?" Mihashi says. So quietly that Abe almost asks him to repeat himself. Does ask him for a repeat when his brain processes the words, because he's pretty sure that can't possibly be what he just heard.
"If it stands up," Mihashi says. Looking at Abe unblinking, eyes filled with very real fear.
"It-" It won't, he almost says. But he's gotten hard in weird situations before, situations that really weren't arousing. At all. Figures maybe Mihashi's the same way. That maybe Mihashi gets hard when he gets nervous. It's possible, he thinks. He's never played ball with Mihashi when the guy wasn't wearing a ball cup. Maybe Mihashi pitches with an erection every game.
He stops that particular train of thought dead in its tracks. Squirrels it away for later.
"It's natural," he says, finally. "To get like that. Especially at our age. The doctor won't think it's weird. No one would."
"It's embarrassing," Mihashi says.
"It's normal," Abe says. "Come on, the longer you hesitate the harder-that is, the more difficult-it is to just do it."
Mihashi bites his lower lip. Squirms some.
"O-only if you won't look," he says.
"That would defeat the purpose of doing it," Abe says. Earns a blank stare from his pitcher. Sighs. "If I don't look, I won't be able to check you for a hernia," he clarifies. "The doctor's going to have to look. Just long enough to check you. Less than a minute."
"But. What if it's. What if I'm weird? There?" Mihashi says.
He's not. Circumcised, which is a little strange to Abe, but he's otherwise completely normal. Not that Abe's stared at him for hours on end or anything, but he's bathed with the guy-and changed clothes around him-enough times to know that he's normal. Decently big, even when flaccid. Lightly hairy, the curls around his cock just a few shades darker than the hair on his head, light enough that it looks like less than Abe's got, himself.
"I promise I'll tell you if there's anything weird," Abe says, carefully. "I don't think there is, but I can let you know if there is, before you go to the doctor. Then you can be prepared for what he'll say. Okay?"
Mihashi chews his lip. Doesn't say anything.
Abe sighs. "Would it be worse to have a doctor look at you for thirty seconds, or to not pitch at Koushien?" he says, once he's pretty sure he's got his temper under control.
"Not pitch," Mihashi says. He says it softly, but he says it right away. Swallows hard after he says it, his fingers bunching up the hospital gown a few centimeters.
"Then just get it over with," Abe says. "Come on. Lift your gown, turn your head to the side, and cough once. That's all you have to do."
"Abe-kun too," Mihashi says.
"Huh?"
"You do it, too," Mihashi says. "If it's not bad. To do it."
It takes Abe's brain several tries to wrap itself around the notion that his pitcher-shy, hesitant, obedient Mihashi-is challenging him. Testing him.
Talking back to him.
Abe catches himself laughing. Does his best to cover the sound with a cough.
"All right," he says, slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his scrub-pants and briefs. The gloves feel strange against his skin, almost like it's someone else touching him. He does his best not to think about it, shoving his pants down to his knees. His cock's soft, thank god, nestled in its foreskin atop his balls. Not too small, either, like it gets sometimes in the winter. Just normal.
The way Mihashi stares at it is not normal. Not very good for Abe's sense of comfort, either, his heartbeat picking up a bit at his pitcher's unblinking gaze. Getting hard while playing doctor with a guy would be-well, awful is the only word Abe can come up with. Possibly good cause for ritual suicide. Definitely a good way to make things awkward between them for the rest of everything ever.
"The doctor will lift your penis like this," Abe says, slipping his fingers under his cock and moving it aside. He does his best not to think about the feel of his own hand against his cock, the cool rubber warming almost immediately where it's caught between his cock and his fingers. Tries even harder not to think about how Mihashi's cock will feel when he touches it. How different it might be, touching a circumcised cock. Feeling the exposed head, even when it's soft. The shaft smooth where the foreskin should be. "Then he'll ask you to turn your head to the side and cough once, like this."
He coughs, feels his balls pull up. Looks at Mihashi, expecting Mihashi to be looking at him with those big brown eyes full of fear, his body rigid with anxiety.
He's not expecting Mihashi to be staring at his groin. Doesn't expect the guy to keep staring when he reaches for his pants and underwear, pulls them up. Expects him to figure out that he's being weird and look away, but he doesn't, he keeps staring until Abe's completely covered, the bagginess of his scrubs probably-hopefully-concealing the way his cock's not completely soft anymore. Meets Abe's gaze, his cheeks flushed. Breathing through his mouth.
Weird.
"That's all there is to it," Abe says, hoping to dispel at least some of the awkwardness settling in the room. "You might have to cough twice if you don't cough hard enough the first time. But that's all. Less than a minute. Doesn't hurt at all."
Mihashi swallows. "A-all right," he says. Takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, not unlike the little ritual he has before pitching a breaking ball or a fastball. Keeps his eyes closed as he lifts the hospital gown, bunching it up until he's exposed.
He's soft, his cock resting atop his balls, angled just slightly to his right. The shaft's wrinkled under the head, not smooth like Abe's cock is when it's soft, but it looks more or less the same as it has all of the other times Abe's sneaked glances at it over the years.
Only this time, Abe's allowed to look. Supposed to look. To touch, also, his heart beating a little faster as he takes the one step needed to close the distance between himself and his pitcher, his cock starting to stiffen as he kneels down and reaches for Mihashi's cock.
"I'm going to touch you now," he says, after glancing up to confirm that Mihashi's eyes are, indeed, still squeezed tightly shut. "Just to move it out of the way. Okay?"
Mihashi nods. It looks a bit like he's having a seizure.
Abe doesn't blame him. He'd not thought much about this part when he decided to try immersion therapy on his pitcher. Knew he'd have to do it-that he'd get to do it-but he'd not thought much about how it might actually feel to kneel in front of the guy he's fantasized about for over a year, staring at his cock, knowing that he had to touch it. Knowing that Mihashi might not really want him to touch it. Nothing like his fantasies of Mihashi shyly asking him to touch, to stroke. To suck and ride and-
Mihashi's eyes are still closed when Abe sneaks a peek at him. That makes it easier. Kind of. Easier to focus on the feel of Mihashi's cock, soft and cooler than Abe's own felt through the thin rubber of the glove. The muted bristle of pubic hair through the glove when Abe lifts Mihashi's cock, holding it out of the way.
"Turn your head to the side and cough," Abe says. Gets coughed on, which distracts him from watching Mihashi's balls jump when Mihashi does as he's told. "Again," he says, adjusting his grip on Mihashi's penis, holding it more like he holds a baseball bat, less like he's pinching the thing. "Turn your head all the way to the side when you cough. You'll cough on the doctor, otherwise."
He feels Mihashi tense where his hand's resting against the guy's abdomen. Looks up and finds Mihashi looking down at him, big brown eyes full of worry.
"S-sorry," he says.
"It's fine," Abe says. "It's a common mistake. Go on, try again."
Mihashi obeys, his balls jumping just as they should. Which would be fine, were Mihashi not watching Abe the minute he finishes coughing. Were he not watching with that unblinking stare, all big eyes and flushed cheeks and-
"Is it weird?" he says.
"Is what weird?"
"My-mine," Mihashi says. "B-because it's not. Like yours."
Still worrying about that. Abe makes a mental note to box Tajima's ears for teasing Mihashi about his cock. Erases that mental note and replaces it with a mental note to tell Hanai to box Tajima's ears instead.
"It's fine," Abe says. He opens his hand, presses it forward so that Mihashi's cock rests in his palm, the soft curls around it tickling his hand through the glove. His pitcher's cock has stretched some, not quite as soft as it was before. Feels heavier in his hand. "In some countries, most guys are cut."
"Not here," Mihashi says. He's biting his lip when Abe tears his gaze away from the cock in his hand and looks up. Looks so submissive, so vulnerable-
"Historically, the foreskin was removed for hygiene purposes," Abe says, pushing back the fantasies he has involving his pitcher naked and shy and submissive, the professional façade he practiced in front of the bathroom mirror coming back in its place. Mostly. "It's still done in a lot of Western countries. Here, it's less common, but it's not unheard of. And it doesn't mean your-doesn't mean it won't work. It's the same cut or uncut. So it doesn't really matter."
Definitely doesn't matter, and certainly doesn't mean his pitcher's cock doesn't work, he thinks, Mihashi's cock heavy and warm through the rubber covering his hand, stiffening steadily as he talks.
Mihashi doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, doesn't seem to care, his attention focused just as completely on Abe as it is when he and Abe are hashing out their pitching strategy together before a big game. Nevermind that his cock's getting hard in another guy's hand, a guy who has no interest in letting go of it any time soon. A guy getting just as hard at the feel of it, Abe's cock stiffening enough in his briefs that he's sure it'll be noticeable when he stands up.
Which would be bad, Abe's certain. Mihashi's got an excuse for getting hard-any guy would if he had someone fondling his cock-but for a guy to get hard just because he was touching another guy's dick-
Not the kind of thing he wants his pitcher to know about him. More like the kind of thing he's been trying to keep a secret from his teammates ever since he was old enough to recognize it about himself. He slides his hand down Mihashi's cock once before releasing it. Rocks back on his heels, his thighs closed together enough to conceal his own hardness.
"You can put your gown down, now," he says. Meets Mihashi's eyes rather than staring at the way the gown looks, pushing out where his cock's almost completely stiff, tenting the cheap cotton. "That's about all they'll do for the exam. Afterwards, they'll run some tests on you, probably. Blood and urine tests for anemia and drug screenings. Those will be done by a nurse, though, and your mom can sit with you for the blood test, so you won't have to do it alone."
Mihashi nods. Draws a breath like he's about to say something. Hesitates, looking at Abe sidelong, eyes big and scared.
"If you have a question, ask it plainly," Abe says. "Doctors like it when patients ask question. It's easier than trying to guess what questions you have." A moment. "Like when you speak up during practice," he says. "We all really like it when you have ideas about the game. The doctor will be the same. He'll like it if you ask questions."
Which shouldn't work as well as it does, but it's Mihashi, so Abe figures whatever, at least it worked. Feels honestly rather accomplished when his pitcher's face lights up at the promise of being praised, feels pleased with himself for figuring his pitcher correctly, reading his signs correctly on the first try.
"R-rectal exam," Mihashi says, his cheeks flushing brightly when he says it.
Abe blinks at him, the feeling of accomplishment fizzling. "What?"
"T-they might do one," Mihashi says. "T-Tajima-kun said so."
Abe changes his earlier mental note to tell Hanai to box Tajima's ears, decides it would really be best for Momokan to do it. With a baseball bat. He frowns.
"I've never had one," he says.
"B-but Tajima s-said-"
"Go to my doctor," Abe says. "He won't do a rectal exam."
He'd better not, anyway, Abe thinks, his stomach squirming, his pitcher's fear of doctors is suddenly a lot easier for him to understand.
Mihashi fidgets some. "Will you d-do it?" he says, looking away. "Just in case? S-so I'm prepared?"
"You-" Abe frowns. "Do you want me to do it?"
Mihashi nods. Doesn't hesitate at all.
"You know what that kind of exam involves, right?"
Another nod. Abe swallows.
"And you're sure you-"
"Please?"
Just like something out of one of the fantasies Abe would rather pretend he doesn't have. His stomach flips over itself. His cock aches.
"Fine," he says. "Bend over the bed, then. I'll get something to-" he gestures. Can't quite force himself to say the words. "Just bend over the bed."
Then he bolts before Mihashi has a chance to do more than nod. Crosses the hall to the bathing room, his heart pounding in his throat.
<< part i
part iii >>
Enjoy!
You can find the entire story here: part i • part ii • part iii
And the Mihashi-POV sequel here: part i • part ii • part iii
Physical
part ii
by mistr3ss Quickly
Mihashi comes over on Sunday, his bag heavy with textbooks Abe is, for once, completely disinterested in opening. He apologizes first thing when Abe opens the door and invites him in, doesn't say what he's sorry for, but Abe's no idiot and Mihashi knows it. Looks pleased when Abe waves away his apologies and invites him upstairs, even relaxes a little once the bedroom door's closed and Abe's confirmed that it's just the two of them in the house, his mom and dad and brother all out until evening.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," Abe says, settling down next to his pitcher. "About doctors. Why you don't like them."
Mihashi tenses up. Starts apologizing again straight away.
Abe cuts him off with a frown. "I'm not mad at you," he says (lies). "I just want to know what happened. With your last doctor."
"N-nothing," Mihashi says, without meeting Abe's gaze. Clearly full of shit.
"The last time you went to the doctor," Abe says, "what was it for?"
Mihashi fidgets a little. Licks his lips. "Shots," he says.
"Vaccinations?"
A nod. "And stuff. My weight. Because I wasn't eating."
Not surprising. "How old were you?"
"Twelve?"
Playing for Mihoshi, then. Not the best time of his life.
"What was the worst part of the visit?"
More fidgeting. Mihashi looks miserable. Almost miserable enough for Abe to give up and cut the guy a break.
Almost.
"I was doing bad," Mihashi says, finally. "The doctor said so. That I was too skinny. And I'd have to stop pitching. If I didn't gain weight."
Ah.
"Did the doctor scold you?" Abe says.
Mihashi nods. Shakes his head. Gives Abe a worried look. "He asked a lot of questions," he says. "I didn't answer right, so he got mad at me. H-he wanted me to go to another doctor. Because I was shy. He said that was bad."
Scared him witless, then yelled at him for being afraid. Guilt twists in Abe's gut. He quells it with a reminder that he was just a kid when he did the same thing to his pitcher. Not an adult. Not a professional trained to deal with other people.
"You know that's not how doctors are supposed to act, right?" Abe says. "They're supposed to take care of people, not get mad at them."
"I'm a b-bother," Mihashi says. He shrinks in on himself a little when he says it. "He tried. To take care of me. But he couldn't. Because I'm strange."
Arguing with that would be ridiculous. Abe clears his throat.
"You've changed a lot since then," he says.
"I have?"
Abe nods. "You're seventeen, not twelve," he says. "You're the ace of a Koushien-qualified team. And you've been maintaining your weight since you were a freshman. Put on some good muscle." Some very good muscle, muscle Abe thinks about perhaps a bit too much, a bit too often. He figures Mihashi doesn't need to know that. "You're the picture of health. No one's going to scold you."
Mihashi doesn't say anything. Doesn't look convinced, either.
Which means it's time for stage two.
"Look," Abe says, "I'm certain no one's going to get mad at you. But if it'll make you feel better, I can check you. Now. Make sure there's nothing wrong. If you want."
Mihashi blinks at him. Not disgusted, thank god. Not agreeing, though. Just looking at him. Like he doesn't get it or something.
Abe glares at the wall. "I'm planning to go to medical school after we graduate from Nishiura," he says, just like he practiced saying to his reflection, just in case Mihashi didn't go along with him right away. "I've started researching general medical practice to prepare for that, so I know what I'm doing."
He glances at his pitcher. Mihashi's staring at him, eyes wide, mouth open a little. More than completely unnerving.
"What?"
"You're going to become a doctor?" Mihashi says.
"Yeah?"
"Wow. That's-that's really cool."
"It is?"
Mihashi nods, hard enough to snap his neck.
Well.
"Then let me give you a preliminary diagnostic physical," Abe says. "Please. To help me practice."
It sounds no less creepy coming out of his mouth with Mihashi there to hear it than it sounded when he practiced saying it to his reflection. Sounds good enough, though, Mihashi hesitating only a little before nodding.
"Okay," he says. "If it'll help you."
It won't. Probably. But it will get him his pitcher for their game at Koushien, which is good enough, so Abe nods and rises to his feet. Digs the bag of stuff he's collected just for this exercise out of his dresser, buried under his winter clothes where he's pretty sure no one would go snooping. Upends its contents carefully onto his bed.
Scrubs for him. A hospital gown for Mihashi. A stethoscope. Tongue depressor. Blood pressure cuff. All purchased from the kind of store he's heard Tajima joke about over the years. The kind of store he'd never thought he'd go into, let alone patronize. The kind of store he honestly hopes never to visit again.
It's worth it to get him to pitch for us at Koushien, he tells himself, just as he told himself when he walked in and started seriously browsing the store's selection of fetish items. If he's going to be uncomfortable going to the doctor, I can stand a little discomfort, too.
Nevermind that he has to go for a physical himself, not the most pleasant thing in the world. Abe does his best not to think about it.
"Here," he says, handing Mihashi the hospital gown. "Put this on."
Mihashi takes the gown. Gives Abe his most pathetic look.
"Do I have to?"
Abe swallows his temper. "Yes," he says. "Go on."
"Here?"
"We change together all the time in the clubhouse and at camp," Abe says. "This isn't any different."
Mihashi doesn't look entirely convinced. Doesn't argue, though, setting the gown aside and pulling off his t-shirt, showing off all of the muscle he's put on over the past two years. Abe watches him long enough to make sure he's not going to chicken out, then shucks off his own shirt when Mihashi starts unbuckling his belt, drops his pants before reaching for the scrubs.
"Why are you-oh." Mihashi licks his lips, staring unabashedly when Abe turns to see what he wants. "I didn't think you'd-not like a real doctor."
Abe resists the urge to roll his eyes, busies himself with pulling on the scrub pants instead, fumbling a little with the shirt, feeling oddly naked under Mihashi's direct gaze. He drapes the stethoscope around his neck, just to help with the illusion. Turns to face his pitcher.
Who hasn't moved a muscle, standing there in his boxers, hands frozen over the hospital gown. Giving Abe a look of abject terror, every single one of those beautiful muscles tensing up when Abe sighs and takes a step towards him.
"It's just me," he says, reaching out and prying the gown out of his pitcher's hands. He unfolds it. Holds it open. "Relax. You know I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to yell at you, either."
Mihashi swallows. Nods. Slips his arms through the sleeves of the gown.
"I can't tie it," he says.
"Then turn around," Abe says. "I'll do it for you."
"What if I can't tie it when I'm at the doctor's office?" Mihashi says, once Abe's got the first knot tied.
A valid point. Abe glares at the back of his pitcher's head.
"Put it on backwards, tie it, then turn it around the right way after it's tied," he says. He stops tying halfway through the second tie. "Do you want to try that?"
A moment. Mihashi nods.
"All right, hang on. Let me get these untied."
Untying knots is harder than tying them. Abe glares at his handiwork, picking at the knot with his fingernails, wishing he'd listened when his father told him years ago to break the habit of biting his nails. By the time he's got them undone, Mihashi's tensed back up, looking at him uncertainly when he steps back and tells him to put the gown on backwards.
"You can put your arms through the arm-holes to get it tied," he says when Mihashi tries to do the first tie through the slit, without much luck.
Mihashi hunches in on himself a little and does what he's told, has the gown tied in less than a minute. He gets it turned around without too much difficulty or flailing, looks at Abe like he's expecting to be praised once he's got the thing on properly, a little baggy on him perhaps, but good enough.
"Good," Abe says. "Now take off your boxers and we'll get started."
"Take off my-"
Abe frowns. "You don't keep them on during an exam," he says.
"B-but-"
"The gown covers you. You're fine. It's just the way things are done."
Probably not the most comforting he's ever been, but really. And besides, it works, Mihashi blushing a lot but cooperating, shucking his boxers down his legs and folding them on top of his clothes.
"You'll be alone when you do this at the clinic," Abe says, when Mihashi straightens and looks at him expectantly. "When you're done, a nurse will come in and check your vitals. We'll do that next. Come sit down over here."
He pats the foot of his bed. Watches, pleased, as Mihashi doesn't hesitate to do as he's told, climbing awkwardly up onto the mattress like he's worried about his gown slipping.
"B-better," Mihashi says.
"What is?"
"Your bed," Mihashi says. "The bed has paper on it. At the clinic. This feels nicer."
Abe has fantasies that start out with Mihashi enjoying how soft his bed is. Fantasies that usually end with Mihashi's back safely cushioned on his bed while Abe rides him, coming all over him. Fucking himself on Mihashi's cock until Mihashi comes, too, hands on Abe's hips, handling him roughly. Using him.
Not the kind of thing he should be thinking about when Mihashi's actually in his room. Staring at him. Looking anxious.
"Right. Well. The one at the clinic will probably have paper on it," Abe says. "You'll just have to bear with it."
Mihashi nods. He looks a little less freaked out.
Good, Abe thinks. It's working.
"I'm going to take your temperature first," he says. "Then your blood pressure. Okay?"
Another nod. No hesitation to open his mouth when Abe holds out the thermometer. Big brown eyes following Abe's every move once the thermometer's in place and Abe's working on untangling the blood pressure cuff's cables. He looks almost kind of exactly like Shun looked, the one time Abe tagged along for one of the kid's check-ups, back when Shun was just a toddler. All curiosity with no fear, exactly what Abe was going for, though the memory of his brother howling after getting a shot considerably dampens his feeling of success. Mihashi's a grown man, he tells himself. Old enough to know that shots and blood-tests aren't the end of the world. Distracted enough by everything else that maybe he'll forget about the blood-test until he's at the clinic and can't get away before they've tested him.
His temperature's 37.1 when the thermometer beeps. Nice and normal. Blood pressure just a little lower than normal when Abe measures it, though that could just be the cuff he's using, the cheapest one he could find, no telling how accurate it is.
Abe marks both down in his notebook. "Blood pressure and temperature are both normal," he says. "I'll need to check your pulse next. Give me your hand."
No hesitation from Mihashi there. Abe takes his hand, rests it in his palm. It's not as warm as he'd like, but it's not cold and clammy like he was afraid it might be. He gives in to the temptation to rest his palm against Mihashi's for a second before sliding his hand down to check the guy's pulse. Presses his fingers against his pitcher's wrist, counts the beats of his pitcher's heart for ten seconds, according to the clock on his bedside table.
It's faster than it should be, probably. Maybe. Just as fast as it should be for a guy who's nervous.
"Pulse is fine," he says, when he notices Mihashi staring at him expectantly. "We'll check your ENT next. Ears, nose, throat. Open your moth and say 'ahh.'"
He reaches for one of the tongue depressors while Mihashi licks his lips and opens his mouth, tongue hanging out like a dog's. Stops. Frowns.
Gloves, he thinks. The nurse will probably be wearing gloves for this part.
"You're not allergic to latex are you?" he says, the question scaring Mihashi's tongue back into the guy's mouth where it belongs. He reaches for the gloves he bought while he waits for Mihashi to answer, argues one of the bright blue things out of the package they came in, a package that came with all kinds of weird suggestions written on it in tiny letters, suggestions that made Abe's cock stiffen, mostly because they were unusual, things he hadn't thought about doing with gloves, before.
Mihashi doesn't answer. Looks like he's frozen up when Abe glances at him.
"Mihashi," Abe says. "Latex allergy?"
"I don't-I don't know?" Mihashi says.
Freaking out over nothing. Again.
"It's all right," Abe says. "I got non-latex gloves. Just you should tell them that you're allergic if you are so they can wear non-latex gloves when they work with you. The last time you went to the doctor, did you itch at all afterwards?"
A moment, then a nod. "Where I had blood drawn," Mihashi says. "From the Band-aid."
A small allergy, then. Maybe.
"Well, to be safe, tell them you'd prefer non-latex gloves," Abe says. "They'll have them, so you don't have to worry about being a bother. It's okay to tell them stuff like that. They'd like that better than if you just keep quiet and have a bad reaction."
Mihashi nods hard enough to snap his neck. Whatever, Abe thinks. As long as he gets the point, that's what's important.
He turns his attention back to pulling on the gloves, the silence and Mihashi's unblinking gaze making his skin prickle. The hospital manga he's read never make gloves look so uncooperative. Probably because the characters' palms aren't sweaty. Abe blames the heat gathering in his bedroom. Considers reaching over to turn the air conditioner back up, but the remote's not sterilized and Mihashi's not wearing very much, probably wouldn't appreciate having the room any colder than it is.
"Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and say 'aah,'" he says, once he's got the gloves on and the tongue depressor in his hand. Everything feels different through the thin layer of rubber. The tongue depressor feels smoother. Mihashi's chin feels warmer. Softer. Much more interesting than it should be, Abe's pretty sure, frowning a bit as he returns his attention to Mihashi's mouth, the guy's tongue hanging out once again like a dog's.
His throat looks fine. Dips open when he says aah. Tightens a little when Abe pushes the tongue depressor back a little too far.
"Sorry," he says. "Didn't mean to gag you."
"You didn't," Mihashi says. Clearly lying.
"Right," Abe says. "Well. Anyway. The doctor will check your ears and nose after this. I don't have any of the equipment to do that, but it doesn't hurt so you don't need to worry about it. Okay? They'll just look in your ears and nose. Make sure you're okay."
Mihashi nods. Watches Abe toss the tongue depressor into the trash. Licks his lips.
"E-elephants," he says. Has what looks suspiciously like a smile pulling at the side of his mouth when he says it.
"Huh?"
"When I was little," Mihashi says. "My doctor said that's what he was checking for. In my ears and nose. For elephants."
It was dragons when Abe's doctor said it. Abe believed it until his brother was old enough to start asking about the dragons. Realized only then that he'd been had.
"My doctor said that, too," Abe says. Figures Mihashi doesn't need to know about the dragons. Doesn't need to know about Abe falling for it, either. He pulls at the stethoscope, gets it undraped from his shoulders with more difficulty than he feels is strictly necessary, stupid rubber tubing catching on his scrubs, making him look weird. Puts the earpieces in without looking up to see if Mihashi's looking at him funny.
He opens his mouth to tell Mihashi to take deep breaths so he can listen to his lungs, but Mihashi's already sitting up straighter, breathing deep and even like he does during meditation, like he does when he's deeply asleep at summer camp, lying so close that Abe can feel the heat coming off of him. Not that Abe tries to stay awake and listen to his pitcher breathe or anything-that would be weird-but.
"Good," he says, pressing the stethoscope against Mihashi's chest. "Keep breathing like that." He can hear Mihashi's heart beating, faster than normal, maybe, but not pounding or anything. He's warm under the hospital gown. Feels ... good. Warm and strong and strikingly masculine, not skinny and weak like he was when Abe first met him.
His heart beats a little faster when Abe drags his fingers down one side of his chest, muscles strengthened as a completely unintentional side-effect of the exercises Mihashi did to strengthen his arms and back. He breathes a little faster when Abe presses the stethoscope against his back. Shivers.
"Sorry," Abe says. "It's cold. Bear with it for me."
"It's not," Mihashi says. "It t-tickles. A little."
Abe frowns and doesn't answer, listens to him breathe instead. Mihashi has a mole just to the left of his spine, just visible where the gown's parted. Maybe a hand's breadth from the dip and curve of his ass. Exactly where Abe's pretty sure he shouldn't be tempted to look.
"Breathing is fine," he says. He drapes the stethoscope around his neck. "The doctor might want to test your lung capacity, too. He'll have you blow into a tube attached to a box. It's not a bad thing. Probably just curiosity about how much your lungs can hold. Okay?"
Mihashi nods. "Like a breathalyzer test," he says.
"How do you-"
A shrug. "I read about it," Mihashi says. "Once."
"Oh. Well, yeah, kind of like that. Only he'll want you to breathe out completely to see how much air your lungs hold." Abe would like to know Mihashi's lung capacity, himself. Figures it's probably just as impressive as everything else he knows about his pitcher. "I'm going to test your reflexes next. Scoot forward so your legs hang off the edge of the bed."
Mihashi scoots, his gown gaping enough in the back that Abe can tell he's sitting bare-assed on the bed. The thought that Mihashi's balls are touching his bedspread shouldn't send a jolt of excitement down Abe's spine, but it does anyway, makes him feel more than a little bit like a pervert when he looks at his pitcher and finds the guy staring at him. Waiting patiently for the next instruction.
"All right," he says. "I'm going to tap your knees. Don't move intentionally, okay? Let your reflexes do it for you."
"Okay."
He watches Abe tap his knees. Looks pleased when his legs kick just like they're supposed to. Looks relaxed. At ease. No longer a ball of tension radiating anxiety.
It seems a shame to ruin that.
But.
"All right," Abe says. "That's the general physical. Next he'll want to check you for signs of a hernia or drug use."
Mihashi nods. Still looks calm. Abe wonders if that's a sign that his plan is working, or if it just means that his pitcher's too naïve to know what's coming next.
He's pretty sure it's the latter. Takes a deep breath.
"So we'll start by checking you for signs of a hernia," he says. "Stand up and lift your gown, please."
Sure enough, Mihashi's face falls, his eyes widening.
"L-lift my-"
"Gown, yes," Abe says. He can't quite make himself look his pitcher in the eye. "You'll have to turn your head and cough once. I'll be able to tell from your body's-from how your, ah, anatomy moves-if you have a hernia."
"B-but you'll-you'll see it," Mihashi says. "I took off my boxers."
It. Abe resists the urge to roll his eyes at his pitcher's shyness He's seen Mihashi's penis before, plenty of times. Everyone on the team has. Just like everyone on the team has seen everyone else's penis on the team. Communal bathing during summer camp does that.
But they don't have a doctor at summer camp, wouldn't bathe with the doctor even if one did come along. They never bathe with Mr. Shiga, anyway. So maybe it's different, Abe thinks. Different enough to freak his pitcher right out.
Abe frowns.
"There's nothing weird about it," he says. "Everyone who has a physical does this. Didn't you have to do it last time?"
Mihashi freezes, tense all over. "Y-yes," he says. "But. It was weird."
Weirder when it's a female doctor, like it was when Abe went in for a physical before starting high school. He figures Mihashi doesn't need to know that. Might scare the guy away irreparably from doing what he really needs to do if he knows there's a possibility he'll have to expose himself in front of a woman.
"Think of it like getting undressed before bathing at camp," he says, instead. "It takes less than a minute, and it doesn't hurt. It'll be over before you know it."
Mihashi swallows, hands fidgeting nervously with the front of his gown, pulling it tight across his groin. Abe can see the ridge of his cockhead, the curve of the shaft above. Drags his gaze back up to his pitcher's face, lined with worry, before he can start thinking about anything truly inappropriate.
"It's awkward, but it's better than not pitching at Koushien," he says, as gently as he can. "Right?"
A moment. A nod. Barely there, but there enough.
"What do I do if it-if it stands up?" Mihashi says. So quietly that Abe almost asks him to repeat himself. Does ask him for a repeat when his brain processes the words, because he's pretty sure that can't possibly be what he just heard.
"If it stands up," Mihashi says. Looking at Abe unblinking, eyes filled with very real fear.
"It-" It won't, he almost says. But he's gotten hard in weird situations before, situations that really weren't arousing. At all. Figures maybe Mihashi's the same way. That maybe Mihashi gets hard when he gets nervous. It's possible, he thinks. He's never played ball with Mihashi when the guy wasn't wearing a ball cup. Maybe Mihashi pitches with an erection every game.
He stops that particular train of thought dead in its tracks. Squirrels it away for later.
"It's natural," he says, finally. "To get like that. Especially at our age. The doctor won't think it's weird. No one would."
"It's embarrassing," Mihashi says.
"It's normal," Abe says. "Come on, the longer you hesitate the harder-that is, the more difficult-it is to just do it."
Mihashi bites his lower lip. Squirms some.
"O-only if you won't look," he says.
"That would defeat the purpose of doing it," Abe says. Earns a blank stare from his pitcher. Sighs. "If I don't look, I won't be able to check you for a hernia," he clarifies. "The doctor's going to have to look. Just long enough to check you. Less than a minute."
"But. What if it's. What if I'm weird? There?" Mihashi says.
He's not. Circumcised, which is a little strange to Abe, but he's otherwise completely normal. Not that Abe's stared at him for hours on end or anything, but he's bathed with the guy-and changed clothes around him-enough times to know that he's normal. Decently big, even when flaccid. Lightly hairy, the curls around his cock just a few shades darker than the hair on his head, light enough that it looks like less than Abe's got, himself.
"I promise I'll tell you if there's anything weird," Abe says, carefully. "I don't think there is, but I can let you know if there is, before you go to the doctor. Then you can be prepared for what he'll say. Okay?"
Mihashi chews his lip. Doesn't say anything.
Abe sighs. "Would it be worse to have a doctor look at you for thirty seconds, or to not pitch at Koushien?" he says, once he's pretty sure he's got his temper under control.
"Not pitch," Mihashi says. He says it softly, but he says it right away. Swallows hard after he says it, his fingers bunching up the hospital gown a few centimeters.
"Then just get it over with," Abe says. "Come on. Lift your gown, turn your head to the side, and cough once. That's all you have to do."
"Abe-kun too," Mihashi says.
"Huh?"
"You do it, too," Mihashi says. "If it's not bad. To do it."
It takes Abe's brain several tries to wrap itself around the notion that his pitcher-shy, hesitant, obedient Mihashi-is challenging him. Testing him.
Talking back to him.
Abe catches himself laughing. Does his best to cover the sound with a cough.
"All right," he says, slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his scrub-pants and briefs. The gloves feel strange against his skin, almost like it's someone else touching him. He does his best not to think about it, shoving his pants down to his knees. His cock's soft, thank god, nestled in its foreskin atop his balls. Not too small, either, like it gets sometimes in the winter. Just normal.
The way Mihashi stares at it is not normal. Not very good for Abe's sense of comfort, either, his heartbeat picking up a bit at his pitcher's unblinking gaze. Getting hard while playing doctor with a guy would be-well, awful is the only word Abe can come up with. Possibly good cause for ritual suicide. Definitely a good way to make things awkward between them for the rest of everything ever.
"The doctor will lift your penis like this," Abe says, slipping his fingers under his cock and moving it aside. He does his best not to think about the feel of his own hand against his cock, the cool rubber warming almost immediately where it's caught between his cock and his fingers. Tries even harder not to think about how Mihashi's cock will feel when he touches it. How different it might be, touching a circumcised cock. Feeling the exposed head, even when it's soft. The shaft smooth where the foreskin should be. "Then he'll ask you to turn your head to the side and cough once, like this."
He coughs, feels his balls pull up. Looks at Mihashi, expecting Mihashi to be looking at him with those big brown eyes full of fear, his body rigid with anxiety.
He's not expecting Mihashi to be staring at his groin. Doesn't expect the guy to keep staring when he reaches for his pants and underwear, pulls them up. Expects him to figure out that he's being weird and look away, but he doesn't, he keeps staring until Abe's completely covered, the bagginess of his scrubs probably-hopefully-concealing the way his cock's not completely soft anymore. Meets Abe's gaze, his cheeks flushed. Breathing through his mouth.
Weird.
"That's all there is to it," Abe says, hoping to dispel at least some of the awkwardness settling in the room. "You might have to cough twice if you don't cough hard enough the first time. But that's all. Less than a minute. Doesn't hurt at all."
Mihashi swallows. "A-all right," he says. Takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, not unlike the little ritual he has before pitching a breaking ball or a fastball. Keeps his eyes closed as he lifts the hospital gown, bunching it up until he's exposed.
He's soft, his cock resting atop his balls, angled just slightly to his right. The shaft's wrinkled under the head, not smooth like Abe's cock is when it's soft, but it looks more or less the same as it has all of the other times Abe's sneaked glances at it over the years.
Only this time, Abe's allowed to look. Supposed to look. To touch, also, his heart beating a little faster as he takes the one step needed to close the distance between himself and his pitcher, his cock starting to stiffen as he kneels down and reaches for Mihashi's cock.
"I'm going to touch you now," he says, after glancing up to confirm that Mihashi's eyes are, indeed, still squeezed tightly shut. "Just to move it out of the way. Okay?"
Mihashi nods. It looks a bit like he's having a seizure.
Abe doesn't blame him. He'd not thought much about this part when he decided to try immersion therapy on his pitcher. Knew he'd have to do it-that he'd get to do it-but he'd not thought much about how it might actually feel to kneel in front of the guy he's fantasized about for over a year, staring at his cock, knowing that he had to touch it. Knowing that Mihashi might not really want him to touch it. Nothing like his fantasies of Mihashi shyly asking him to touch, to stroke. To suck and ride and-
Mihashi's eyes are still closed when Abe sneaks a peek at him. That makes it easier. Kind of. Easier to focus on the feel of Mihashi's cock, soft and cooler than Abe's own felt through the thin rubber of the glove. The muted bristle of pubic hair through the glove when Abe lifts Mihashi's cock, holding it out of the way.
"Turn your head to the side and cough," Abe says. Gets coughed on, which distracts him from watching Mihashi's balls jump when Mihashi does as he's told. "Again," he says, adjusting his grip on Mihashi's penis, holding it more like he holds a baseball bat, less like he's pinching the thing. "Turn your head all the way to the side when you cough. You'll cough on the doctor, otherwise."
He feels Mihashi tense where his hand's resting against the guy's abdomen. Looks up and finds Mihashi looking down at him, big brown eyes full of worry.
"S-sorry," he says.
"It's fine," Abe says. "It's a common mistake. Go on, try again."
Mihashi obeys, his balls jumping just as they should. Which would be fine, were Mihashi not watching Abe the minute he finishes coughing. Were he not watching with that unblinking stare, all big eyes and flushed cheeks and-
"Is it weird?" he says.
"Is what weird?"
"My-mine," Mihashi says. "B-because it's not. Like yours."
Still worrying about that. Abe makes a mental note to box Tajima's ears for teasing Mihashi about his cock. Erases that mental note and replaces it with a mental note to tell Hanai to box Tajima's ears instead.
"It's fine," Abe says. He opens his hand, presses it forward so that Mihashi's cock rests in his palm, the soft curls around it tickling his hand through the glove. His pitcher's cock has stretched some, not quite as soft as it was before. Feels heavier in his hand. "In some countries, most guys are cut."
"Not here," Mihashi says. He's biting his lip when Abe tears his gaze away from the cock in his hand and looks up. Looks so submissive, so vulnerable-
"Historically, the foreskin was removed for hygiene purposes," Abe says, pushing back the fantasies he has involving his pitcher naked and shy and submissive, the professional façade he practiced in front of the bathroom mirror coming back in its place. Mostly. "It's still done in a lot of Western countries. Here, it's less common, but it's not unheard of. And it doesn't mean your-doesn't mean it won't work. It's the same cut or uncut. So it doesn't really matter."
Definitely doesn't matter, and certainly doesn't mean his pitcher's cock doesn't work, he thinks, Mihashi's cock heavy and warm through the rubber covering his hand, stiffening steadily as he talks.
Mihashi doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, doesn't seem to care, his attention focused just as completely on Abe as it is when he and Abe are hashing out their pitching strategy together before a big game. Nevermind that his cock's getting hard in another guy's hand, a guy who has no interest in letting go of it any time soon. A guy getting just as hard at the feel of it, Abe's cock stiffening enough in his briefs that he's sure it'll be noticeable when he stands up.
Which would be bad, Abe's certain. Mihashi's got an excuse for getting hard-any guy would if he had someone fondling his cock-but for a guy to get hard just because he was touching another guy's dick-
Not the kind of thing he wants his pitcher to know about him. More like the kind of thing he's been trying to keep a secret from his teammates ever since he was old enough to recognize it about himself. He slides his hand down Mihashi's cock once before releasing it. Rocks back on his heels, his thighs closed together enough to conceal his own hardness.
"You can put your gown down, now," he says. Meets Mihashi's eyes rather than staring at the way the gown looks, pushing out where his cock's almost completely stiff, tenting the cheap cotton. "That's about all they'll do for the exam. Afterwards, they'll run some tests on you, probably. Blood and urine tests for anemia and drug screenings. Those will be done by a nurse, though, and your mom can sit with you for the blood test, so you won't have to do it alone."
Mihashi nods. Draws a breath like he's about to say something. Hesitates, looking at Abe sidelong, eyes big and scared.
"If you have a question, ask it plainly," Abe says. "Doctors like it when patients ask question. It's easier than trying to guess what questions you have." A moment. "Like when you speak up during practice," he says. "We all really like it when you have ideas about the game. The doctor will be the same. He'll like it if you ask questions."
Which shouldn't work as well as it does, but it's Mihashi, so Abe figures whatever, at least it worked. Feels honestly rather accomplished when his pitcher's face lights up at the promise of being praised, feels pleased with himself for figuring his pitcher correctly, reading his signs correctly on the first try.
"R-rectal exam," Mihashi says, his cheeks flushing brightly when he says it.
Abe blinks at him, the feeling of accomplishment fizzling. "What?"
"T-they might do one," Mihashi says. "T-Tajima-kun said so."
Abe changes his earlier mental note to tell Hanai to box Tajima's ears, decides it would really be best for Momokan to do it. With a baseball bat. He frowns.
"I've never had one," he says.
"B-but Tajima s-said-"
"Go to my doctor," Abe says. "He won't do a rectal exam."
He'd better not, anyway, Abe thinks, his stomach squirming, his pitcher's fear of doctors is suddenly a lot easier for him to understand.
Mihashi fidgets some. "Will you d-do it?" he says, looking away. "Just in case? S-so I'm prepared?"
"You-" Abe frowns. "Do you want me to do it?"
Mihashi nods. Doesn't hesitate at all.
"You know what that kind of exam involves, right?"
Another nod. Abe swallows.
"And you're sure you-"
"Please?"
Just like something out of one of the fantasies Abe would rather pretend he doesn't have. His stomach flips over itself. His cock aches.
"Fine," he says. "Bend over the bed, then. I'll get something to-" he gestures. Can't quite force himself to say the words. "Just bend over the bed."
Then he bolts before Mihashi has a chance to do more than nod. Crosses the hall to the bathing room, his heart pounding in his throat.
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