FIC: Rewind Forward (D1) 27/63
Title: Rewind Forward (27/63)
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17 (eventual)
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Niou, meet Yagyuu.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for everything.
They celebrate Yanagi’s birthday in Yukimura’s hospital room the same as Sanada’s: chocolate cake passed around in kidney-shaped dishes that Niou thinks smell decidedly of….something he does not want to eat, except for the fact the chocolate cake- homemade by the fatass- smells divine and tastes even better.
Niou rolls the cake around his mouth, licking the last bits of icing from his fingertips. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Yagyuu eat. His pants feel tight, too tight and too warm. It’s uncomfortable in the tiny hospital room, having to stuff their faces quickly between the nurses’ rounds. Kirihara and Marui are packed into the armchair, furiously going for the last of their cake crumbs. Yanagi stands by the window- he at least can use the ledge as a table. Jackal sits behind Marui’s head, half-sitting, half-leaning on the chair. Sanada sits on the end of Yukimura’s bed, as though it would be improper for him to be any closer than Yukimura’s feet.
Niou sits beside Yagyuu who sits, albeit carefully, at Yukimura’s arm. Too frequently Niou moves, his ankle brushing Yagyuu’s leg. It makes him shiver even though the weather is warm and humid enough to make sweat dribble down his spine.
He hates being this close to Yagyuu, to be able to smell his soap, his shampoo, his cologne and his wristweights- they have the same smell as Niou’s, only different, as if Yagyuu’s sweat is that intoxicating cliché crap in shoujo romances. Niou can’t get enough of it. When the smog-laden breeze lifts the stifled air in the room, Niou inhales as much of Yagyuu as he can without anyone else noticing.
But no one pays Niou any attention. Not when today is Yanagi’s birthday and Yukimura is celebrating with them. It’s a quiet affair- no karaoke, no presents. Niou assumes that whatever extra is stuffed into Yanagi’s bursting backpack, Sanada gave to him at lunch when Niou was busy sitting with Yagyuu on the rooftop, whose nose was buried in a book and for once, no smoke between his lips.
“You’re coming up…on the…prefecturals,” Yukimura wheezes.
Everyone nods.
Kirihara bolts up and grabs Yukimura’s hand, squeezing hard enough to make Sanada’s lips go white. “Buchou, I promise I’ll do my best,” he says.
Yukimura makes a breathy laugh before he coughs. “You’d better,” he whispers. “Or I’ll make sure to kick your ass the first day I’m out, Akaya.”
“Yeah, hey, when are you getting out?” Marui asks. “You’re looking better than last week, Yukimura. I bet by next week- after all, you can’t miss the regionals.”
Yagyuu pushes his glasses up. His movement makes the mattress creak. Niou falls closer to Yagyuu, accidentally bumping into his arm, feeling Yagyuu’s warm and slightly clammy skin stick to his own arm for the briefest moment before he pulls away. Niou is burned on his wrist and burning between the legs.
If Yagyuu were to notice, he’d be dead. Niou squeezes his legs together, willing his erection to go away, but it only twitches again in his pants, straining and begging to be touched, making it hard to think and process thoughts when the team stands up to leave.
Niou grabs his tennisbag off the floor, trying to casually hide his crotch from view before he steps behind Jackal and waves to Yukimura.
The early summer nights this week are beautiful- the sky turning shades of lilac and gold and ruby as the sun sets. Niou invites himself over to Yagyuu’s house, sometimes telling Yagyuu they should practice at the streetcourts near his house, more often than not just following Yagyuu home without a reason. He doesn’t need one. He hasn’t needed one ever, really.
Mid-week, his mother phones his cell. Niou has been twiddling his thumbs, telling Yagyuu to get a dartboard for his room when his phone rings. Odd, he thinks, but then he rolls his eyes when he sees the call display.
“What?” he drawls, playing it cool as Yagyuu raises a quizzical eyebrow at him.
“Why don’t you invite your friend over for supper?” his mother asks. “Instead of always eating at his house?”
Niou tenses his jaw. Yagyuu’s other eyebrow goes up. “Because,” he says, as calmly as he can manage, “I just don’t want to.” You guys are all megane freaks at home, that’s why! No one needs to know, especially him!
In the background, Niou can hear his sister ask their mother if Niou has a girlfriend maybe. Niou smiles against his cell, shaking his head. They have no idea… “I gotta go,” he lies. “I’ll be home later.”
Maybe deep down there is some part of Niou that would prefer supper at home- where his mother can cook real food rather than whatever leftovers or junk Yagyuu has lying around. Maybe the sound of sizzling meat over the phone line is enticing, but he can’t do it. Yagyuu and Niou’s family are separate entities that Niou fully intends shall never, ever meet.
The erections he gets at Yagyuu’s house last long into the evenings. The bus rides back home are agony as Niou shifts and twitches in his seat, wishing that he were more of a pervert and daring enough to jerk himself off on the bus. It’s all he can do to wait until he gets home, rush upstairs into the bathroom, pretend to have a shower and furiously pull and tug his dick, thumb stroking the skin of his balls or under the head before he’s coming in hot, pearly spurts into the shower drain, gasping and mouthing Yagyuu’s name. Lately he’s stopped being able to keep it inside. As long as he’s quiet, though, no one else can hear it.
There are nights where he whispers it under his breath, his moans rising to the surface along with the ripples of pleasure coursing through his body like electricity. Yagyuu’s posing on the tennis court, his smooth voice, the cadence of his voice when he calls out “Adieu!” on the court, completely owning the game in the very moment. Niou loves the way his long fingers push his glasses up all the time, as ridiculous as it is, as if that megane dork can’t stop fidgeting in his own way. He loves how stupid and dorky it is that Yagyuu likes to watch the golf highlights on the evening news in his bedroom.
He loves watching Yagyuu in the showers after tennis, his peeping hidden by the plumes of steam and Yagyuu’s inability to even find his soap half the time. He loves looking at Yagyuu’s long legs, covered with dark hair on his calves. His thighs, flexing and strong when he turns to shampoo his hair. His ass, round and just calling out to Niou to be touched. His dick…
Niou shivers, trying to imagine Yagyuu’s cock on his fingertips instead of his own. Would his skin feel hotter than Niou’s? Would he grunt and pant the way he does during tennis games? Would his cock feel thicker, longer, harder? Niou bites his lip, breathing through his teeth as he tries to imagine Yagyuu lying in his own bed across the city, jerking himself off in his messy, musty sheets under the gaze of those golfer posters. On the same bed that Niou sits on most afternoons, trying to dig his way closer under Yagyuu’s skin, as close as he can without being caught.
“Yagyuu!” he gasps, shuddering and arching his back. He digs his curling toes into his bed as he body jerks, as his hand slips, as he comes under his sheets, wet and sated and completely in love with the guilty gnaw that follows, when he realizes, heart pounding and head rushing, that this is really gay and really not cool.
He’s worse than Sanada, the ass who at least has someone.
He’s really just pathetic, sort of wishing that Yagyuu would find out, mostly just wanting to see Yagyuu again, as soon as he can.
Morning can’t come soon enough.
When Niou dreams that night, he’s playing tennis with Yagyuu. But he isn’t himself, he’s wearing glasses that keep falling down and his mole has fallen off.
Yagyuu picks it up, then sticks it on his own chin. His narrow eyes turn to slits and he licks his lips, his pink tongue glistening in the white sunlight. “Do you want me, Niou?” he asks. “Or do I want you, Yaaaaaagyuu?”
***
Just to piss Sanada off, Niou shows up nice and early to the prefecturals on Saturday. He sips at a juice box and checks his wrist watch, clicking his tongue when Sanada shows up a good twenty minutes after him. Sanada yawns and drags his feet, heavy eyes still drooping with the early hour until Niou calls out, “Oi! Sanada! Wake up!”
Sanada’s eyes go wide and he shoves his cap down on his head, scowling and muttering something that may or may not be “Lazy ass”. He sits across the plastic table and snaps, “What are you doing here?”
“I play tennis,” Niou says. “Or did you forget?”
“Don’t push it,” Sanada growls.
Niou bounces a tennis ball on the ground, flipping his racket over to catch the ball. With his right hand, he starts lazily practicing. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sanada,” he says.
Yanagi and Kirihara show up next, followed by Jackal, who helps Marui with his latest family-sized cooler of snacks and drinks. “Figured we’d want celebratory snacks,” Marui says. “I’m kinda broke after the last buffet.”
“Me too,” Kirihara says. He fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a couple lone arcade tokens that he flicks on the table in front of Niou.
“Well, I brought cookies,” Marui says. “And azuki mochi and peaches and cherry tarts.”
“And the coffee-flavoured buns,” Jackal adds.
“And those,” Marui says, nodding firmly. “And the cheese ones with sausages. I stayed up late making those last night.”
“Yeah, stayed up late to make something that comes in a plastic wrapper with ‘Lawsons’ on it,” Niou mutters.
“Shut up!” Marui snaps. “You can buy your own fucking lunch, Niou.”
Niou shrugs. Sanada glares. Yanagi frowns, absorbing in every word and every glower that passes from Marui to Niou, as if he can analyze every aspect of their antagonism in this one instant.
Yagyuu is the last to arrive, panting and pink-cheeked, gasping that his bus was late. “Please excuse me,” he says, bowing his head. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
Sanada sets his pen down and stands up, scraping his plastic chair across the pavement. “The roster’s been set now. I’ll go register the line-up.” He stalks off, walking like there’s a stick up his ass worse than usual.
Niou has to wonder what on earth Sanada was up to last night. He strokes his chin, smiling to himself at the thought of Sanada spending sleepless nights worrying over tennis and Yukimura. He probably does, though, and it’s probably not very funny. His smirk starts to fall the more Niou thinks, until Yagyuu slides into the seat next to him.
“Good morning,” he says.
“Yo,” Niou says. Seeing Yagyuu in the flesh, his skin pale in the soft morning light, makes Niou recall last night, rubbing his dick on his palm, humping his mattress, imagining it was all Yagyuu instead. He clears his throat and looks off toward the courts.
“There’s Jyousei Shounen,” he says, nodding towards a crowd of grey and teal. “Playtime should be fun, ne Yagyuu?”
Yagyuu’s lips curve into a thin smile. “Yes, it should be, Niou-kun.”
***
As soon as Niou sees the doubles two teams step onto the court to start the game, he knows that Jyousei Shounen is more of a joke than he could have ever imagined. Marui stalls and hums and haws, insisting he needs a new stick of gum before his genius can ignite. Jackal waits, good-natured, at the bench beside Sanada. Between them, they nod and mutter a few quick words.
At his first sight of Jyousei’s double twos, Marui’s jaw drops. Jackal jerks backwards, tripping over Marui’s foot as they both burst into uncontrolled laughter. In the stands, the Rikkai team starts to snicker.
Niou lets his own laugh out, too.
A shrimpy dwarf and a hulking beast stand scowling and baring their rackets, along with their teeth.
“What the shit is that?” Marui says, his voice breaking between laughs.
Jackal wheezes, grapping Marui’s shoulder for balance with one hand and grasping his stomach with the other. “David…and…Goliath…”
“Stop goofing around!” the pipsqueak shouts.
The hulk grunts. The referee shrugs and looks to Sanada. Sanada’s shoulders twitch slightly- Niou knows the ass must be holding back a laugh of his own but Sanada would never stoop to admitting that.
Beside Niou, Yagyuu smiles, the sides of his eyes reflecting his amusement. “Hopefully their concentration isn’t shot,” Yagyuu murmurs.
“They’ll be fine,” Niou says, noting Jackal at the net, digging his feet into the dusty clay as Marui’s laughter subsides slowly. If anything, it’s the Jyousei team who has lost face. Their coach, a chesty woman sitting on the bench across Sanada, pouts at him, as if Sanada should be fixing some sort of problem. It’s too flirtatious to be convincing, the way she heaves her breasts and sighs and frowns all lop-sided.
Marui starts his service play with a pop of his bubble, always the dramatist when he yells out to Jackal to return high shots so the shrimp can’t get them.
“You aren’t the giant yourself,” Niou mutters to himself.
If Marui and Jackal go for the dramatics, then Jyousei is twice as bad. As soon as Jackal screams “FIYAH!” the Jyousei team breaks out into the most ridiculous formation Niou has ever seen. The dwarf jumps onto the back of the hulk, straining to reach Jackal’s lob over the head of his partner. Niou sucks in a breath, intently watching to see the dwarf miss the shot and fall off his partner’s shoulders, landing smack on his back on the ground.
Jackal’s ball smashes into the court inches from his head.
“Now that was genius,” Marui says, high-fiveing Jackal. Jackal shimmies into Marui’s side, a dance of victory for taking the second straight game without so much as a point gained by Jyousei against them.
With what Niou assumes is their signature move gone, Yanagi’s prediction about the Jyousei coach’s tactics comes true. Marui only needs to start a quick volley to show the Jyousei Shounen doubles who they are messing with. The hulk is too slow and clumsy, but the dwarf too short to reach the balls. Jackal yawns and makes the next play: half-assed sending a poach through the blue sky, straight into the chest of the hulk.
The hulk blinks.
The dwarf shrieks at his partner.
The Jyousei coach shakes her head and curls her fingers, waving over the captain- the brown-haired boy with the earring who Niou and Yagyuu played before. He must be completely infatuated with her; across the courts, Niou can see him nodding eagerly, his eyes rarely grazing above the coach’s deep cleavage.
She does have nice breasts, Niou can appreciate that much. But he much prefers Yagyuu next to him, drumming his fingers lazily against his knee. Yagyuu watches the game with a casual-sort of bemusement that makes his glasses gleam suspiciously. Niou is eager to play their game, although judging from the way Jyousei stood at the net as they shook hands, it won’t be the changeover kid and the captain, but the two girly-looking twins in doubles one.
Not that Niou minds. Two more players to mess with. Two more players to get their asses whooped.
As Marui and Jackal finish up the game with some fast volley work and well-placed smashes, Niou thinks to himself that if they are twins, they’ll be able to predict where the other will be at any given moment. Twin speak, and all that. He leans over to Yagyuu, biting his lip for a moment because a strong desire washes over him to not speak, but to instead lick Yagyuu’s ear.
Stop that! he thinks. His dick, however, doesn’t mind the thought. Niou pulls away to a safer distance before he says, “You stay at the baseline. I’m gonna use hand signals, just for a bit until we figure out how much they work as a unit- twins and all.”
Yagyuu nods once.
The crowd of Rikkai tennis club members erupt into adulation, clapping and cheering and laughing with Marui and Jackal, as though they’ve won the Nationals trophy, not some prefecturals doubles match. Marui and Jackal break into a bizarre sort of dance: Jackal claps three times, then he rolls his hands around in a circle, prancing along to some sort of beat that only he and Marui must be able to hear.
Jackal jumps to the side and bumps his hips against Marui’s. Both of them launch off flying in opposite directions, tripping over themselves somewhere near the vicinity of Sanada’s feet. They might have rhythm on the court together, but they suck balls at victory shimmies.
Maybe it’s something they do in Brazil. Some weird ritual, or something… Niou thinks.
Sanada’s shoulders tense up for a brief second. He cringes at his teammates, Niou can see that much. And then, Sanada shoves the brim of his cap down further over his eyes, but no one seems to care. If anything, the tennis club members clustered in the stands only snicker along with Jackal and Marui.
Yagyuu says nothing. He looks bland and perfectly blasé when he sees Niou pick up his racket with his right hand. Niou tosses it from hand to hand, spinning it and whirling around as he walks onto the court, ducking his head and clicking his tongue at the twin on the other side of the net.
Niou eyes him up, then down, then up again. Shorter. Probably fast, like the shrimp on the doubles two team. Probably both the twins play baseline and net with easy switching of their roles.
Niou scratches his head. Behind his back, he motions to Yagyuu, snapping his fingers to signal Yagyuu should keep it at a volley for now. I wanna see how they play first, Yagyuu.
He bounces side to side, shifting his weight and wriggling his shoulders, loosening them up with lazy circles. Keep the grip light, he reminds himself. Yagyuu does the same thing with his right hand.
Yagyuu starts a volley, nice and easy, testing the waters out just the way Niou wants. The twins dart back and forth, zigzagging between each other. One- maybe the other, it doesn’t matter- steps back and sends a lob up.
Tempting…but no.
Niou rushes for it, then he poaches with the middle of his racketface, jerking his arm close to his body to keep the shot light and loose. The twins both growl and run together again, some weird combination where they have to join and separate.
It must be a twin thing, Niou thing. Out loud, he calls, “So what’s your combo?” as he swings through the next shot, returning the ball instead of letting Yagyuu have it.
“We’re not a combo!” twin one shouts.
Twin two runs up to the net, low and crouched as he bounces up with quick wristwork on a backhand. Niou dodges; Yagyuu can hit that.
“We’re a unit!” twin two snaps.
Niou motions to Yagyuu. Come forward. They’re not aggressive baseliners. They want mid-court shots. Let’s give them what they want for now.
Yagyuu grunts through the shot. The ball zooms past Niou’s ear, ruffling his hair and making his ponytail skit along his neck as the shot skims the net, low enough and close enough to the post that Niou seriously wonders if Yagyuu’s been hanging around Marui too much lately.
They take the first game with ease. No need for tricky play at all. No special formations like doubles two. Niou sighs heavily as they switch courts. “I’m disappointed,” he says, louder than he needs to. “I wanted some acrobatics.”
Yagyuu pats his shoulder. The sudden touch sends a thrill down Niou’s neck, all the way to the base of his spine where it settles, coiling deep in his body with the desire already pulsing through his muscles just from playing with Yagyuu. “Don’t mind, Niou-kun,” Yagyuu says. Anyone else would think that Yagyuu is being sincere and polite, humouring his friend, but Niou can hear the sharpness in his voice, can see the edge to his smile.
They’re up 2-0 in no time and if Niou is honest with himself, he’s rather bored with the game. The twins are no fun to mess with- they don’t get angry like doubles two did, they don’t have any stupid moves, they’re just fast and pissy-faced. One dashes to the net, then dashes back. Niou follows their movements to the tee, but his arms and legs are too long and his own shots too far to the baseline to properly mimic anyway.
“Yagyuu!” he shouts, mid-play.
One of the twins fumbles the ball, surprised at Niou’s outburst. The ball bounces back, the second twin taking a beat too long to realize the ball is still in their court. Point to Rikkai, completely unintentional.
“Yagyuu!” Niou calls out again. “Let’s kick it up. Bring that out, would you?”
The Jyousei Shounen stands titter. Their coach with the heaving tits adjusts her glasses, blinding Niou for a second from the gleam, before she takes out a pad of paper and jots something down.
He whistles out to himself. Good thing I played with this hand, he thinks. Fucking data freaks everywhere. Puri. He keeps his head up straight to not give anything away about his left hand. Niou spins his racket around in his right hand. With his other hand, he motions to Yagyuu to hold off a point or two before bringing out the laser beam.
Surely their Jyousei teammates would have told them about Yagyuu’s laser beam after that game on the streetcourts. Surely they should be expecting it any moment now too, since Niou has told Yagyuu to use it.
Still, seeing their faces turn white at the first sight of the laser boom shooting down the middle of the court, right between their legs is beautiful. Silent and lightning fast and deadly and Niou can’t stop himself when he glances over his shoulder, feigning casualness, to see Yagyuu posing.
Arm raised above his head, t-shirt riding up over his smooth stomach, back rim-rod straight and his racket poised and pointed. God, it’s hot, seeing Yagyuu’s hair flip up for that instant when the air around him whips it up. Niou can hear his panting, can see the sweat beading under Yagyuu’s lenses and on his top lip. Niou’s hands shake, and he wants more than anything to stay pinned to the court with brick-feet, transfixed by Yagyuu like this.
But, they have a game to finish first. According to the digital scoreboard at the end of the courts, it takes them a whole seven more minutes.
At the net, Niou feels jovial and pleased with the game, although it was at least as many of Yagyuu’s lasers than won their game as it was his own drop shots and smashes. He sticks his hand out to the first twin he sees.
“Better luck next time, Jyousei,” he says.
“Just wait until you guys see Wakato play,” twin two says, his high-pitched voice more like a chirp.
Niou taps his mole and waggles his eyebrows. “Oh?”
Beside him, Yagyuu just shakes his head. He gives Niou a long look, appraising and advising with his eyes for Niou to not go on about it any more. They brush past Kirihara, who strides onto the court as if he’s as tall as Sanada. His confidence certainly is, as he holds his hand up to Yagyuu for a high-five before his game has even begun.
“I’ll beat you in fifteen minutes flat,” Kirihara tells Jyousei.
In the stands, Niou flops down on the bench. The wooden seat seems harder than ever and he’ll be glad to be finished with the semifinals. The grassy patches under shady trees near the food stands look appealing. The first smells of frying takoyaki and yakitori skewers float through the air, making Niou’s stomach growl.
He guzzles half his water bottle and leans over Yagyuu’s shoulders. Fourteen minutes left until lunch. “Wanna get a head start?” he asks.
Yagyuu shakes his head. “No thank you. I’ll stay and watch Kirihara-kun. But you could find a place for us all to eat?”
Niou nods. He shoves his hands into his shorts pockets and trudges up the rickety stands. They creak under his footsteps as he squeezes by pre-regulars, shoving his bulging tennis bag into their faces as he walks by them.
He’s second in line for a chicken yakitori stand, right behind some chubby elementary school kid. The sizzling sound of the meat and the tangy aroma make Niou even hungrier. The coins in his hand are warm and sweaty, ready to pay for his lunch and go. Even through the trees, humming with cicadas in the warm summer sun, Niou can hear the shout of “CHANGE-OVER!” echo through the sports park.
He chuckles under his breath. What a loser, he thinks as he sits down on a bench. It’s not the greatest location for a team picnic- too close to the green garbage bins, maybe, too close to a group of beady-eyed pigeons, but there’s two benches pressed back-to-back just off the pavement trail and it’ll do.
He peels his watch out from under his wrist weight. Five minutes left. But when Marui arrives at the benches next, it’s hardly more than two minutes later. Jackal drags the large cooler behind the two of them and Kirihara trails a little later behind them. The kid hasn’t broken a sweat, although his eyes are tinged pink and his cheeks too.
“What a freak,” Kirihara says.
“6-0?” Niou asks.
Yanagi nods. “14:07.”
“Not bad, kid,” Niou says.
Kirihara flashes a bright grin. “He was really annoying.”
“Yeah, he was,” Niou agrees.
“How do you…” Kirihara scratches behind his ear and forces a laugh. On the other side of the bench, Marui hands out wrapped sandwiches and plastic containers filled with every food substance known to man.
Niou smiles back at Kirihara. A bento box is passed over his shoulder, aimed at Kirihara, but Niou grabs it first. “Thanks,” he tells Marui, opening the lid to see a sandwich inside. He peels the bread off to sniff it. Cheese.
“I have beef,” Kirihara tells Niou, showing off a tray of rice with pristine slices of beef laid out on top, covered in cold curry sauce. Before Kirihara’s smile fully forms on his face, Niou snatches a slice of beef.
Fingertips tasting of sweet, spicy curry, Niou licks them clean in front of Kirihara’s face. Don’t push it, kid, he thinks. Kirihara’s pout makes Niou smirk.
Yagyuu sits on the other side of the bench, wedged between Marui and the cooler: potentially the most dangerous location. For all Marui’s bitching earlier in the morning, he sure doesn’t care when Niou helps himself to the tin-foil packets of grapes and melon cubes.
“I don’t know if my mother is insane, or something,” Marui says- spitting his food everywhere, Niou assumes- “but she thinks I’m a rabbit if I’m gonna eat melon. Who the hell eats melon at tennis tournaments?”
Sanada sets down a melon rind on his knee. He says nothing, but his scowl deepens. Niou pops a melon ball into his mouth, slurping on the sweet honeydew dripping juice over his tongue.
“Jackal,” Marui says, “you gonna eat that whole piece of cake?” A pause- Marui must be chewing because Niou hears the popping of his bubble gum stop- and then Marui adds, “Here, Hiroshi, I brought some of your favourite jelly. The store had a promotion on this morning.”
Niou can feel his eye twitch. That fatass! Buttering Yagyuu up like that!
“Senpai?” Kirihara asks. He shoves his face up into Niou’s vision, scrunching his features up as if thinking is too difficult for the wonderchibi right now.
Niou shrugs off Kirihara’s question by stretching his arms out across the top of the bench. He purposely gropes Yanagi’s shoulders and Sanada’s neck just to make the two monsters tense up. Someone lets out a belch- it must be Jackal- and then the bench groans under their teenage weight.
“Play resumes promptly at one,” Yanagi says. “If we play at our current pace, we can catch the 2:23pm bus home.”
“Unless the medal ceremony runs over,” Sanada grumbles.
Kirihara slurps at something, louder than Marui’s chewing. Niou can see a filched piece of jelly cradled in the palm of his hand. On the other side of the bench, Yagyuu makes faint little noises of pleasure that ring in Niou’s ears. His thigh is cramped from having Kirihara wedged up too close, and now his dick is cramped too, straining at his shorts and begging for attention.
Niou digs his fingers into the metal arm of the bench. “What’s the deal with the team, O Strategist?” he asks, trying to keep his mind off his dick. And his hand too.
Niou fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt with his other hand. His mind feels too light and his erection makes it even worse, threatening to make his brain float off into a fantasy about being pushed down onto the court by Yagyuu, tall and sweaty and chest puffed up with the word “Adieu” rolling off his tongue and-
“-Hanomiya is all seniors this year, with the exception of a pair of juniors in doubles two. Bunta, Jackal?”
“We got it handled,” Marui says. Niou can smell the revoltingly sweet and fake stench of apple bubblegum as Marui crinkles a paper behind his back. Smack. Chomp. Pop.
Niou winces.
Yagyuu moans, then the soft slipping noise of someone licking their fingers. Niou’s hand shakes, his dick hardens. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, counting numbers off under his breath. One…two…
The sudden jerk of the bench makes six heads turn to see Sanada stand up and sling his tennisbag over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he says.
Yanagi checks his watch and nods. Marui sighs, resigned, and packs up the picnic he had spread across his lap, which makes Sanada scowl and tap his foot irritably when Marui takes his sweet time: stacking his bento trays, snapping lids onto plastic containers, happily chucking tinfoil balls into the garbage can beyond Niou’s head…
Something smucks Niou in the back of the head. He whips around to see Marui bouncing a tinfoil ball in his hand, grinning from ear to ear.
“My genius isn’t ass-repellent it seems,” Marui says. A bubble pops dangerously close to Niou’s nose.
As soon as Sanada stomps off toward the tennis courts, Niou flashes Marui the finger. Fucker, he thinks. Your Genius is stuck in doubles two.
The thought makes Niou smirk, even if the back of his head might very well be covered in rice grains or teriyaki sauce or whatever the tinfoil might have been smeared with. Niou would check, except there’s probably too much hair wax in his hair already and it wouldn’t make a difference. Unlike Sanada and Yanagi with their twin awful haircuts that they might as well give each other, ruffling the wax through his own hair in the morning is ritualistic and kinda fun, making spikes of bleached hair stick up in the mirror.
Niou combs through the side of his head, messing his hair up even more, just in case it was a bit flat.
“Niou!” Sanada yells.
“Coming, coming,” Niou mutters. “Don’t get that stick wedged up any further, Sanada.”
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17 (eventual)
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Niou, meet Yagyuu.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for everything.
They celebrate Yanagi’s birthday in Yukimura’s hospital room the same as Sanada’s: chocolate cake passed around in kidney-shaped dishes that Niou thinks smell decidedly of….something he does not want to eat, except for the fact the chocolate cake- homemade by the fatass- smells divine and tastes even better.
Niou rolls the cake around his mouth, licking the last bits of icing from his fingertips. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Yagyuu eat. His pants feel tight, too tight and too warm. It’s uncomfortable in the tiny hospital room, having to stuff their faces quickly between the nurses’ rounds. Kirihara and Marui are packed into the armchair, furiously going for the last of their cake crumbs. Yanagi stands by the window- he at least can use the ledge as a table. Jackal sits behind Marui’s head, half-sitting, half-leaning on the chair. Sanada sits on the end of Yukimura’s bed, as though it would be improper for him to be any closer than Yukimura’s feet.
Niou sits beside Yagyuu who sits, albeit carefully, at Yukimura’s arm. Too frequently Niou moves, his ankle brushing Yagyuu’s leg. It makes him shiver even though the weather is warm and humid enough to make sweat dribble down his spine.
He hates being this close to Yagyuu, to be able to smell his soap, his shampoo, his cologne and his wristweights- they have the same smell as Niou’s, only different, as if Yagyuu’s sweat is that intoxicating cliché crap in shoujo romances. Niou can’t get enough of it. When the smog-laden breeze lifts the stifled air in the room, Niou inhales as much of Yagyuu as he can without anyone else noticing.
But no one pays Niou any attention. Not when today is Yanagi’s birthday and Yukimura is celebrating with them. It’s a quiet affair- no karaoke, no presents. Niou assumes that whatever extra is stuffed into Yanagi’s bursting backpack, Sanada gave to him at lunch when Niou was busy sitting with Yagyuu on the rooftop, whose nose was buried in a book and for once, no smoke between his lips.
“You’re coming up…on the…prefecturals,” Yukimura wheezes.
Everyone nods.
Kirihara bolts up and grabs Yukimura’s hand, squeezing hard enough to make Sanada’s lips go white. “Buchou, I promise I’ll do my best,” he says.
Yukimura makes a breathy laugh before he coughs. “You’d better,” he whispers. “Or I’ll make sure to kick your ass the first day I’m out, Akaya.”
“Yeah, hey, when are you getting out?” Marui asks. “You’re looking better than last week, Yukimura. I bet by next week- after all, you can’t miss the regionals.”
Yagyuu pushes his glasses up. His movement makes the mattress creak. Niou falls closer to Yagyuu, accidentally bumping into his arm, feeling Yagyuu’s warm and slightly clammy skin stick to his own arm for the briefest moment before he pulls away. Niou is burned on his wrist and burning between the legs.
If Yagyuu were to notice, he’d be dead. Niou squeezes his legs together, willing his erection to go away, but it only twitches again in his pants, straining and begging to be touched, making it hard to think and process thoughts when the team stands up to leave.
Niou grabs his tennisbag off the floor, trying to casually hide his crotch from view before he steps behind Jackal and waves to Yukimura.
The early summer nights this week are beautiful- the sky turning shades of lilac and gold and ruby as the sun sets. Niou invites himself over to Yagyuu’s house, sometimes telling Yagyuu they should practice at the streetcourts near his house, more often than not just following Yagyuu home without a reason. He doesn’t need one. He hasn’t needed one ever, really.
Mid-week, his mother phones his cell. Niou has been twiddling his thumbs, telling Yagyuu to get a dartboard for his room when his phone rings. Odd, he thinks, but then he rolls his eyes when he sees the call display.
“What?” he drawls, playing it cool as Yagyuu raises a quizzical eyebrow at him.
“Why don’t you invite your friend over for supper?” his mother asks. “Instead of always eating at his house?”
Niou tenses his jaw. Yagyuu’s other eyebrow goes up. “Because,” he says, as calmly as he can manage, “I just don’t want to.” You guys are all megane freaks at home, that’s why! No one needs to know, especially him!
In the background, Niou can hear his sister ask their mother if Niou has a girlfriend maybe. Niou smiles against his cell, shaking his head. They have no idea… “I gotta go,” he lies. “I’ll be home later.”
Maybe deep down there is some part of Niou that would prefer supper at home- where his mother can cook real food rather than whatever leftovers or junk Yagyuu has lying around. Maybe the sound of sizzling meat over the phone line is enticing, but he can’t do it. Yagyuu and Niou’s family are separate entities that Niou fully intends shall never, ever meet.
The erections he gets at Yagyuu’s house last long into the evenings. The bus rides back home are agony as Niou shifts and twitches in his seat, wishing that he were more of a pervert and daring enough to jerk himself off on the bus. It’s all he can do to wait until he gets home, rush upstairs into the bathroom, pretend to have a shower and furiously pull and tug his dick, thumb stroking the skin of his balls or under the head before he’s coming in hot, pearly spurts into the shower drain, gasping and mouthing Yagyuu’s name. Lately he’s stopped being able to keep it inside. As long as he’s quiet, though, no one else can hear it.
There are nights where he whispers it under his breath, his moans rising to the surface along with the ripples of pleasure coursing through his body like electricity. Yagyuu’s posing on the tennis court, his smooth voice, the cadence of his voice when he calls out “Adieu!” on the court, completely owning the game in the very moment. Niou loves the way his long fingers push his glasses up all the time, as ridiculous as it is, as if that megane dork can’t stop fidgeting in his own way. He loves how stupid and dorky it is that Yagyuu likes to watch the golf highlights on the evening news in his bedroom.
He loves watching Yagyuu in the showers after tennis, his peeping hidden by the plumes of steam and Yagyuu’s inability to even find his soap half the time. He loves looking at Yagyuu’s long legs, covered with dark hair on his calves. His thighs, flexing and strong when he turns to shampoo his hair. His ass, round and just calling out to Niou to be touched. His dick…
Niou shivers, trying to imagine Yagyuu’s cock on his fingertips instead of his own. Would his skin feel hotter than Niou’s? Would he grunt and pant the way he does during tennis games? Would his cock feel thicker, longer, harder? Niou bites his lip, breathing through his teeth as he tries to imagine Yagyuu lying in his own bed across the city, jerking himself off in his messy, musty sheets under the gaze of those golfer posters. On the same bed that Niou sits on most afternoons, trying to dig his way closer under Yagyuu’s skin, as close as he can without being caught.
“Yagyuu!” he gasps, shuddering and arching his back. He digs his curling toes into his bed as he body jerks, as his hand slips, as he comes under his sheets, wet and sated and completely in love with the guilty gnaw that follows, when he realizes, heart pounding and head rushing, that this is really gay and really not cool.
He’s worse than Sanada, the ass who at least has someone.
He’s really just pathetic, sort of wishing that Yagyuu would find out, mostly just wanting to see Yagyuu again, as soon as he can.
Morning can’t come soon enough.
When Niou dreams that night, he’s playing tennis with Yagyuu. But he isn’t himself, he’s wearing glasses that keep falling down and his mole has fallen off.
Yagyuu picks it up, then sticks it on his own chin. His narrow eyes turn to slits and he licks his lips, his pink tongue glistening in the white sunlight. “Do you want me, Niou?” he asks. “Or do I want you, Yaaaaaagyuu?”
***
Just to piss Sanada off, Niou shows up nice and early to the prefecturals on Saturday. He sips at a juice box and checks his wrist watch, clicking his tongue when Sanada shows up a good twenty minutes after him. Sanada yawns and drags his feet, heavy eyes still drooping with the early hour until Niou calls out, “Oi! Sanada! Wake up!”
Sanada’s eyes go wide and he shoves his cap down on his head, scowling and muttering something that may or may not be “Lazy ass”. He sits across the plastic table and snaps, “What are you doing here?”
“I play tennis,” Niou says. “Or did you forget?”
“Don’t push it,” Sanada growls.
Niou bounces a tennis ball on the ground, flipping his racket over to catch the ball. With his right hand, he starts lazily practicing. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sanada,” he says.
Yanagi and Kirihara show up next, followed by Jackal, who helps Marui with his latest family-sized cooler of snacks and drinks. “Figured we’d want celebratory snacks,” Marui says. “I’m kinda broke after the last buffet.”
“Me too,” Kirihara says. He fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a couple lone arcade tokens that he flicks on the table in front of Niou.
“Well, I brought cookies,” Marui says. “And azuki mochi and peaches and cherry tarts.”
“And the coffee-flavoured buns,” Jackal adds.
“And those,” Marui says, nodding firmly. “And the cheese ones with sausages. I stayed up late making those last night.”
“Yeah, stayed up late to make something that comes in a plastic wrapper with ‘Lawsons’ on it,” Niou mutters.
“Shut up!” Marui snaps. “You can buy your own fucking lunch, Niou.”
Niou shrugs. Sanada glares. Yanagi frowns, absorbing in every word and every glower that passes from Marui to Niou, as if he can analyze every aspect of their antagonism in this one instant.
Yagyuu is the last to arrive, panting and pink-cheeked, gasping that his bus was late. “Please excuse me,” he says, bowing his head. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
Sanada sets his pen down and stands up, scraping his plastic chair across the pavement. “The roster’s been set now. I’ll go register the line-up.” He stalks off, walking like there’s a stick up his ass worse than usual.
Niou has to wonder what on earth Sanada was up to last night. He strokes his chin, smiling to himself at the thought of Sanada spending sleepless nights worrying over tennis and Yukimura. He probably does, though, and it’s probably not very funny. His smirk starts to fall the more Niou thinks, until Yagyuu slides into the seat next to him.
“Good morning,” he says.
“Yo,” Niou says. Seeing Yagyuu in the flesh, his skin pale in the soft morning light, makes Niou recall last night, rubbing his dick on his palm, humping his mattress, imagining it was all Yagyuu instead. He clears his throat and looks off toward the courts.
“There’s Jyousei Shounen,” he says, nodding towards a crowd of grey and teal. “Playtime should be fun, ne Yagyuu?”
Yagyuu’s lips curve into a thin smile. “Yes, it should be, Niou-kun.”
***
As soon as Niou sees the doubles two teams step onto the court to start the game, he knows that Jyousei Shounen is more of a joke than he could have ever imagined. Marui stalls and hums and haws, insisting he needs a new stick of gum before his genius can ignite. Jackal waits, good-natured, at the bench beside Sanada. Between them, they nod and mutter a few quick words.
At his first sight of Jyousei’s double twos, Marui’s jaw drops. Jackal jerks backwards, tripping over Marui’s foot as they both burst into uncontrolled laughter. In the stands, the Rikkai team starts to snicker.
Niou lets his own laugh out, too.
A shrimpy dwarf and a hulking beast stand scowling and baring their rackets, along with their teeth.
“What the shit is that?” Marui says, his voice breaking between laughs.
Jackal wheezes, grapping Marui’s shoulder for balance with one hand and grasping his stomach with the other. “David…and…Goliath…”
“Stop goofing around!” the pipsqueak shouts.
The hulk grunts. The referee shrugs and looks to Sanada. Sanada’s shoulders twitch slightly- Niou knows the ass must be holding back a laugh of his own but Sanada would never stoop to admitting that.
Beside Niou, Yagyuu smiles, the sides of his eyes reflecting his amusement. “Hopefully their concentration isn’t shot,” Yagyuu murmurs.
“They’ll be fine,” Niou says, noting Jackal at the net, digging his feet into the dusty clay as Marui’s laughter subsides slowly. If anything, it’s the Jyousei team who has lost face. Their coach, a chesty woman sitting on the bench across Sanada, pouts at him, as if Sanada should be fixing some sort of problem. It’s too flirtatious to be convincing, the way she heaves her breasts and sighs and frowns all lop-sided.
Marui starts his service play with a pop of his bubble, always the dramatist when he yells out to Jackal to return high shots so the shrimp can’t get them.
“You aren’t the giant yourself,” Niou mutters to himself.
If Marui and Jackal go for the dramatics, then Jyousei is twice as bad. As soon as Jackal screams “FIYAH!” the Jyousei team breaks out into the most ridiculous formation Niou has ever seen. The dwarf jumps onto the back of the hulk, straining to reach Jackal’s lob over the head of his partner. Niou sucks in a breath, intently watching to see the dwarf miss the shot and fall off his partner’s shoulders, landing smack on his back on the ground.
Jackal’s ball smashes into the court inches from his head.
“Now that was genius,” Marui says, high-fiveing Jackal. Jackal shimmies into Marui’s side, a dance of victory for taking the second straight game without so much as a point gained by Jyousei against them.
With what Niou assumes is their signature move gone, Yanagi’s prediction about the Jyousei coach’s tactics comes true. Marui only needs to start a quick volley to show the Jyousei Shounen doubles who they are messing with. The hulk is too slow and clumsy, but the dwarf too short to reach the balls. Jackal yawns and makes the next play: half-assed sending a poach through the blue sky, straight into the chest of the hulk.
The hulk blinks.
The dwarf shrieks at his partner.
The Jyousei coach shakes her head and curls her fingers, waving over the captain- the brown-haired boy with the earring who Niou and Yagyuu played before. He must be completely infatuated with her; across the courts, Niou can see him nodding eagerly, his eyes rarely grazing above the coach’s deep cleavage.
She does have nice breasts, Niou can appreciate that much. But he much prefers Yagyuu next to him, drumming his fingers lazily against his knee. Yagyuu watches the game with a casual-sort of bemusement that makes his glasses gleam suspiciously. Niou is eager to play their game, although judging from the way Jyousei stood at the net as they shook hands, it won’t be the changeover kid and the captain, but the two girly-looking twins in doubles one.
Not that Niou minds. Two more players to mess with. Two more players to get their asses whooped.
As Marui and Jackal finish up the game with some fast volley work and well-placed smashes, Niou thinks to himself that if they are twins, they’ll be able to predict where the other will be at any given moment. Twin speak, and all that. He leans over to Yagyuu, biting his lip for a moment because a strong desire washes over him to not speak, but to instead lick Yagyuu’s ear.
Stop that! he thinks. His dick, however, doesn’t mind the thought. Niou pulls away to a safer distance before he says, “You stay at the baseline. I’m gonna use hand signals, just for a bit until we figure out how much they work as a unit- twins and all.”
Yagyuu nods once.
The crowd of Rikkai tennis club members erupt into adulation, clapping and cheering and laughing with Marui and Jackal, as though they’ve won the Nationals trophy, not some prefecturals doubles match. Marui and Jackal break into a bizarre sort of dance: Jackal claps three times, then he rolls his hands around in a circle, prancing along to some sort of beat that only he and Marui must be able to hear.
Jackal jumps to the side and bumps his hips against Marui’s. Both of them launch off flying in opposite directions, tripping over themselves somewhere near the vicinity of Sanada’s feet. They might have rhythm on the court together, but they suck balls at victory shimmies.
Maybe it’s something they do in Brazil. Some weird ritual, or something… Niou thinks.
Sanada’s shoulders tense up for a brief second. He cringes at his teammates, Niou can see that much. And then, Sanada shoves the brim of his cap down further over his eyes, but no one seems to care. If anything, the tennis club members clustered in the stands only snicker along with Jackal and Marui.
Yagyuu says nothing. He looks bland and perfectly blasé when he sees Niou pick up his racket with his right hand. Niou tosses it from hand to hand, spinning it and whirling around as he walks onto the court, ducking his head and clicking his tongue at the twin on the other side of the net.
Niou eyes him up, then down, then up again. Shorter. Probably fast, like the shrimp on the doubles two team. Probably both the twins play baseline and net with easy switching of their roles.
Niou scratches his head. Behind his back, he motions to Yagyuu, snapping his fingers to signal Yagyuu should keep it at a volley for now. I wanna see how they play first, Yagyuu.
He bounces side to side, shifting his weight and wriggling his shoulders, loosening them up with lazy circles. Keep the grip light, he reminds himself. Yagyuu does the same thing with his right hand.
Yagyuu starts a volley, nice and easy, testing the waters out just the way Niou wants. The twins dart back and forth, zigzagging between each other. One- maybe the other, it doesn’t matter- steps back and sends a lob up.
Tempting…but no.
Niou rushes for it, then he poaches with the middle of his racketface, jerking his arm close to his body to keep the shot light and loose. The twins both growl and run together again, some weird combination where they have to join and separate.
It must be a twin thing, Niou thing. Out loud, he calls, “So what’s your combo?” as he swings through the next shot, returning the ball instead of letting Yagyuu have it.
“We’re not a combo!” twin one shouts.
Twin two runs up to the net, low and crouched as he bounces up with quick wristwork on a backhand. Niou dodges; Yagyuu can hit that.
“We’re a unit!” twin two snaps.
Niou motions to Yagyuu. Come forward. They’re not aggressive baseliners. They want mid-court shots. Let’s give them what they want for now.
Yagyuu grunts through the shot. The ball zooms past Niou’s ear, ruffling his hair and making his ponytail skit along his neck as the shot skims the net, low enough and close enough to the post that Niou seriously wonders if Yagyuu’s been hanging around Marui too much lately.
They take the first game with ease. No need for tricky play at all. No special formations like doubles two. Niou sighs heavily as they switch courts. “I’m disappointed,” he says, louder than he needs to. “I wanted some acrobatics.”
Yagyuu pats his shoulder. The sudden touch sends a thrill down Niou’s neck, all the way to the base of his spine where it settles, coiling deep in his body with the desire already pulsing through his muscles just from playing with Yagyuu. “Don’t mind, Niou-kun,” Yagyuu says. Anyone else would think that Yagyuu is being sincere and polite, humouring his friend, but Niou can hear the sharpness in his voice, can see the edge to his smile.
They’re up 2-0 in no time and if Niou is honest with himself, he’s rather bored with the game. The twins are no fun to mess with- they don’t get angry like doubles two did, they don’t have any stupid moves, they’re just fast and pissy-faced. One dashes to the net, then dashes back. Niou follows their movements to the tee, but his arms and legs are too long and his own shots too far to the baseline to properly mimic anyway.
“Yagyuu!” he shouts, mid-play.
One of the twins fumbles the ball, surprised at Niou’s outburst. The ball bounces back, the second twin taking a beat too long to realize the ball is still in their court. Point to Rikkai, completely unintentional.
“Yagyuu!” Niou calls out again. “Let’s kick it up. Bring that out, would you?”
The Jyousei Shounen stands titter. Their coach with the heaving tits adjusts her glasses, blinding Niou for a second from the gleam, before she takes out a pad of paper and jots something down.
He whistles out to himself. Good thing I played with this hand, he thinks. Fucking data freaks everywhere. Puri. He keeps his head up straight to not give anything away about his left hand. Niou spins his racket around in his right hand. With his other hand, he motions to Yagyuu to hold off a point or two before bringing out the laser beam.
Surely their Jyousei teammates would have told them about Yagyuu’s laser beam after that game on the streetcourts. Surely they should be expecting it any moment now too, since Niou has told Yagyuu to use it.
Still, seeing their faces turn white at the first sight of the laser boom shooting down the middle of the court, right between their legs is beautiful. Silent and lightning fast and deadly and Niou can’t stop himself when he glances over his shoulder, feigning casualness, to see Yagyuu posing.
Arm raised above his head, t-shirt riding up over his smooth stomach, back rim-rod straight and his racket poised and pointed. God, it’s hot, seeing Yagyuu’s hair flip up for that instant when the air around him whips it up. Niou can hear his panting, can see the sweat beading under Yagyuu’s lenses and on his top lip. Niou’s hands shake, and he wants more than anything to stay pinned to the court with brick-feet, transfixed by Yagyuu like this.
But, they have a game to finish first. According to the digital scoreboard at the end of the courts, it takes them a whole seven more minutes.
At the net, Niou feels jovial and pleased with the game, although it was at least as many of Yagyuu’s lasers than won their game as it was his own drop shots and smashes. He sticks his hand out to the first twin he sees.
“Better luck next time, Jyousei,” he says.
“Just wait until you guys see Wakato play,” twin two says, his high-pitched voice more like a chirp.
Niou taps his mole and waggles his eyebrows. “Oh?”
Beside him, Yagyuu just shakes his head. He gives Niou a long look, appraising and advising with his eyes for Niou to not go on about it any more. They brush past Kirihara, who strides onto the court as if he’s as tall as Sanada. His confidence certainly is, as he holds his hand up to Yagyuu for a high-five before his game has even begun.
“I’ll beat you in fifteen minutes flat,” Kirihara tells Jyousei.
In the stands, Niou flops down on the bench. The wooden seat seems harder than ever and he’ll be glad to be finished with the semifinals. The grassy patches under shady trees near the food stands look appealing. The first smells of frying takoyaki and yakitori skewers float through the air, making Niou’s stomach growl.
He guzzles half his water bottle and leans over Yagyuu’s shoulders. Fourteen minutes left until lunch. “Wanna get a head start?” he asks.
Yagyuu shakes his head. “No thank you. I’ll stay and watch Kirihara-kun. But you could find a place for us all to eat?”
Niou nods. He shoves his hands into his shorts pockets and trudges up the rickety stands. They creak under his footsteps as he squeezes by pre-regulars, shoving his bulging tennis bag into their faces as he walks by them.
He’s second in line for a chicken yakitori stand, right behind some chubby elementary school kid. The sizzling sound of the meat and the tangy aroma make Niou even hungrier. The coins in his hand are warm and sweaty, ready to pay for his lunch and go. Even through the trees, humming with cicadas in the warm summer sun, Niou can hear the shout of “CHANGE-OVER!” echo through the sports park.
He chuckles under his breath. What a loser, he thinks as he sits down on a bench. It’s not the greatest location for a team picnic- too close to the green garbage bins, maybe, too close to a group of beady-eyed pigeons, but there’s two benches pressed back-to-back just off the pavement trail and it’ll do.
He peels his watch out from under his wrist weight. Five minutes left. But when Marui arrives at the benches next, it’s hardly more than two minutes later. Jackal drags the large cooler behind the two of them and Kirihara trails a little later behind them. The kid hasn’t broken a sweat, although his eyes are tinged pink and his cheeks too.
“What a freak,” Kirihara says.
“6-0?” Niou asks.
Yanagi nods. “14:07.”
“Not bad, kid,” Niou says.
Kirihara flashes a bright grin. “He was really annoying.”
“Yeah, he was,” Niou agrees.
“How do you…” Kirihara scratches behind his ear and forces a laugh. On the other side of the bench, Marui hands out wrapped sandwiches and plastic containers filled with every food substance known to man.
Niou smiles back at Kirihara. A bento box is passed over his shoulder, aimed at Kirihara, but Niou grabs it first. “Thanks,” he tells Marui, opening the lid to see a sandwich inside. He peels the bread off to sniff it. Cheese.
“I have beef,” Kirihara tells Niou, showing off a tray of rice with pristine slices of beef laid out on top, covered in cold curry sauce. Before Kirihara’s smile fully forms on his face, Niou snatches a slice of beef.
Fingertips tasting of sweet, spicy curry, Niou licks them clean in front of Kirihara’s face. Don’t push it, kid, he thinks. Kirihara’s pout makes Niou smirk.
Yagyuu sits on the other side of the bench, wedged between Marui and the cooler: potentially the most dangerous location. For all Marui’s bitching earlier in the morning, he sure doesn’t care when Niou helps himself to the tin-foil packets of grapes and melon cubes.
“I don’t know if my mother is insane, or something,” Marui says- spitting his food everywhere, Niou assumes- “but she thinks I’m a rabbit if I’m gonna eat melon. Who the hell eats melon at tennis tournaments?”
Sanada sets down a melon rind on his knee. He says nothing, but his scowl deepens. Niou pops a melon ball into his mouth, slurping on the sweet honeydew dripping juice over his tongue.
“Jackal,” Marui says, “you gonna eat that whole piece of cake?” A pause- Marui must be chewing because Niou hears the popping of his bubble gum stop- and then Marui adds, “Here, Hiroshi, I brought some of your favourite jelly. The store had a promotion on this morning.”
Niou can feel his eye twitch. That fatass! Buttering Yagyuu up like that!
“Senpai?” Kirihara asks. He shoves his face up into Niou’s vision, scrunching his features up as if thinking is too difficult for the wonderchibi right now.
Niou shrugs off Kirihara’s question by stretching his arms out across the top of the bench. He purposely gropes Yanagi’s shoulders and Sanada’s neck just to make the two monsters tense up. Someone lets out a belch- it must be Jackal- and then the bench groans under their teenage weight.
“Play resumes promptly at one,” Yanagi says. “If we play at our current pace, we can catch the 2:23pm bus home.”
“Unless the medal ceremony runs over,” Sanada grumbles.
Kirihara slurps at something, louder than Marui’s chewing. Niou can see a filched piece of jelly cradled in the palm of his hand. On the other side of the bench, Yagyuu makes faint little noises of pleasure that ring in Niou’s ears. His thigh is cramped from having Kirihara wedged up too close, and now his dick is cramped too, straining at his shorts and begging for attention.
Niou digs his fingers into the metal arm of the bench. “What’s the deal with the team, O Strategist?” he asks, trying to keep his mind off his dick. And his hand too.
Niou fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt with his other hand. His mind feels too light and his erection makes it even worse, threatening to make his brain float off into a fantasy about being pushed down onto the court by Yagyuu, tall and sweaty and chest puffed up with the word “Adieu” rolling off his tongue and-
“-Hanomiya is all seniors this year, with the exception of a pair of juniors in doubles two. Bunta, Jackal?”
“We got it handled,” Marui says. Niou can smell the revoltingly sweet and fake stench of apple bubblegum as Marui crinkles a paper behind his back. Smack. Chomp. Pop.
Niou winces.
Yagyuu moans, then the soft slipping noise of someone licking their fingers. Niou’s hand shakes, his dick hardens. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, counting numbers off under his breath. One…two…
The sudden jerk of the bench makes six heads turn to see Sanada stand up and sling his tennisbag over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he says.
Yanagi checks his watch and nods. Marui sighs, resigned, and packs up the picnic he had spread across his lap, which makes Sanada scowl and tap his foot irritably when Marui takes his sweet time: stacking his bento trays, snapping lids onto plastic containers, happily chucking tinfoil balls into the garbage can beyond Niou’s head…
Something smucks Niou in the back of the head. He whips around to see Marui bouncing a tinfoil ball in his hand, grinning from ear to ear.
“My genius isn’t ass-repellent it seems,” Marui says. A bubble pops dangerously close to Niou’s nose.
As soon as Sanada stomps off toward the tennis courts, Niou flashes Marui the finger. Fucker, he thinks. Your Genius is stuck in doubles two.
The thought makes Niou smirk, even if the back of his head might very well be covered in rice grains or teriyaki sauce or whatever the tinfoil might have been smeared with. Niou would check, except there’s probably too much hair wax in his hair already and it wouldn’t make a difference. Unlike Sanada and Yanagi with their twin awful haircuts that they might as well give each other, ruffling the wax through his own hair in the morning is ritualistic and kinda fun, making spikes of bleached hair stick up in the mirror.
Niou combs through the side of his head, messing his hair up even more, just in case it was a bit flat.
“Niou!” Sanada yells.
“Coming, coming,” Niou mutters. “Don’t get that stick wedged up any further, Sanada.”