Happy Spring goldie!
Title: []-[] + ^_^ = <3
Recipient's name: goldie
Rating: R
Pairing: Inui/Fuji
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: The story alternates between two different timelines, changing with each new scene.
Author's notes: Happy Spring Fluff! I really hope you enjoy this, Goldie ^_^ Also a big thanks to K for putting up with my nerves and betaing for me.
[]-[] + ^_^ = <3
Inui had been acutely aware of Fuji’s presence the entire walk to the club house - it had left him quickening his pace in anticipation - but his heart still leapt in his chest when he heard Fuji lock the door behind them. Practice started in less than ten minutes, the other regulars would be turning up at any moment. His stomach had twisted itself into knots and his palms felt cold and sweaty all at once as he clutched the strap of his bag, frozen in place and staring at the wall.
"Inui?" Fuji asked softly.
He was closer than Inui had imagined and it made him startle, glancing round to see Fuji paused in the act of reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. Across the room he could see Fuji’s bag already discarded on the bench for later. Quickly, embarrassed, he collected himself and slid his own bag from his shoulder to place it on the bench before him.
"Sorry, Fuji," he said, adjusting his glasses and attempting to relax as he turned toward the other boy.
Fuji smiled at him, taking a step closer to invade Inui’s personal space. Inui found he didn’t really mind that at all. "I suppose I might forgive you," Fuji offered, tilting his head to one side in that beguiling way he had. Inui forgot how to breathe for a moment. "If…"
It took long seconds for Inui to find his voice - Fuji’s proximity made it difficult not to sway toward him. "If what?" he asked, inhaling slowly in an effort to retain his calm. He placed his hands at Fuji’s waist because Fuji was so very close and that seemed like the safest place. Fuji felt warm beneath his touch.
Fuji’s smile widened and he reached up to slide his arms around Inui’s neck as he took another step nearer. His shirt was brushing against Inui’s, the material of their trousers just shy of touching, too. He radiated challenge as he lifted his chin, eyes sparkling as he repeated, "If…"
Inui smiled slowly, almost a grin - he couldn’t help it when Fuji was smiling at him like that and nervous excitement had him in its grip. His hold on Fuji’s waist tightened minutely as he leant forward to brush his lips gently against Fuji’s. It wasn’t so hard really, and Fuji’s lips were very soft beneath his own. It made him feel light headed, even when their noses bumped awkwardly and his glasses steamed up.
Fuji closed the last space between them, leaning against Inui as they pressed their mouths together. Now Inui could feel Fuji’s breathing, quick and excited against his lips, feel Fuji’s uncertainty as they kissed. It made Inui feel braver as he wrapped his arms securely around Fuji’s waist. Inui couldn’t see him clearly any longer through the fog of his glasses.
"I forgive you," Fuji whispered hotly. Inui could tell he was smiling without needing to see it.
Inui licked his lips and kissed Fuji again, not caring that his glasses made it awkward. He felt increasingly warm with Fuji nestled against him, heat pooling inside him and driving him onward. It didn’t matter that they were only minutes away from Oishi or Tezuka unlocking the door and discovering them - only that Fuji’s mouth stayed against his as he tentatively parted his lips.
So, of course, it was then that the hammering on the door occurred. Inui knocked his nose against Fuji’s again, biting his own tongue in surprise. His eyes were watering as he stumbled backward away from the collision, narrowly avoiding sitting on his bag. He grunted as his ass hit the bench, and couldn’t really think of anything to say.
Fuji was merely a blur before him so Inui couldn’t see his expression. Inui could hear Fuji when he laughed though, and his face warmed with embarrassment. That had really not been how Inui had intended their first kiss to go.
**
It had started with Inui ostensibly doing his English homework, but really daydreaming about how he might alter his latest juice. The Extra Special Golden Deluxe Inui Juice was still a little too strong, to put it mildly. He had woken up five hours later with a bump on the back of his head last time he’d tested it. He suspected it could have been a lot longer than that had Fuji not found him in the science lab when he was late for practice. There were disadvantages to working unobtrusively at times.
As if he had known of whom Inui were thinking, a message from Fuji popped up on Inui’s computer screen.
[]-[] + (|:-| ?
More than once in the past, Fuji had sent Inui seemingly nonsensical messages. Usually there was a code to them, and more often than not Inui enjoyed the challenge. This wasn’t a code though; it was highly bemusing. Inui simply had no idea what Fuji was meant to be asking about Kaidoh and himself. It would have been easy enough to clarify, but that would involve conceding his claim that he could understand Fuji and he wasn’t prepared to do that.
Both Inui’s English homework and juice plans alike ended up forgotten as he tried to frame a reply. It was an illogical trend that he liked to pretend he hadn’t noticed, but his habits of observation would not allow him to escape it either. For some reason, sometime during the preceding few months, Fuji Syuusuke had come to possess the ability to unfailingly occupy some part of Inui’s attention, however small, simply by being present in the general vicinity. It defied all reason.
In the ranking tournament the previous month, for example, Inui had missed an easy return in a match with Kikumaru because he’d noticed Fuji handing Kawamura his racket. The slip had made no sense to Inui, because it was hardly the first time such an exchange had occurred and, even if it had been, Inui’s attention had been focused exclusively on his court and Kikumaru. At first Inui had thought it merely a small lapse, had supposed that the sun might have caught on Fuji’s watch, or something similar, and that was why Inui had been diverted. It was only after several more similar occurrences took place in the following weeks (always with Inui’s attention caught by Fuji, and each meticulously recorded in his notebook so that he could not mistake himself), that Inui acknowledged that Fuji had found a way to impede his ability to play tennis. A gauntlet had been thrown down.
When Fuji had sat close to Inui during Oishi’s pep talk the previous week, Inui had further been forced to accept that the game was leaving him unnerved. With Fuji’s thigh brushing against Inui’s every time he shifted, Inui had found himself frequently blotting sweaty palms against his trousers and even smudging the ink in his notebook. He’d switched back to pencil after that.
Now, as though Inui had not found the logical foundations of his world upset enough with the strange shortness of breath and agitated heart rate that he was enduring all too often (the doctor had assured him that it wasn’t a heart condition), Fuji was adding to his confusion with pictorial messages better suited to Kikumaru’s internet discussions.
Feeling as though he was taking his life in his hands, Inui carefully laid his fingers over the keys. The most probable eventuality was that Fuji wished to enquire as to whether Inui and Kaidoh would be competing together in doubles in the next tournament match. There was little else that Inui and Kaidoh did together aside from training.
∑:D + (|:-|
Inui regarded the odd combination of symbols uncertainly, wondering if he’d chosen the right way of depicting Momoshiro. Emoticons and their derivatives had never been his strong point when it came to conversing online. To Inui’s view, they served very little purpose other than to give the misleading impression that each and every person with a PC at their fingertips acted the way Kikumaru did in reality.
Inui pressed return before he had time to think on it any further. Fuji could only be asking about doubles after all.
Fuji’s reply came almost instantly:
[]-[] + ^_^ = ?
**
Inui was standing with his back to the door when it finally opened, cleaning his glasses on the edge of his shirt. His tongue felt tender and his nose ached, but he stayed silent as Momoshiro edged in uncertainly. Inui felt a perverse sense of pleasure at how unnerved Momoshiro was now that he’d realised who he had interrupted.
"Is, ah, everything alright?" Momoshiro asked.
Inui slipped his glasses on, pleased to be able to see clearly, and turned to take Momoshiro in as he stood in the doorway scratching the back of his neck. Kaidoh was lurking behind him, his expression making it obvious how uncomfortable he was to be associated with the moron who’d interrupted their seniors.
"Shouldn’t it be?" Inui asked, tone curious. He allowed himself a brief glance toward Fuji who was leaning against the wall opposite with a serene smile. Fuji was also absently fingering his nose, though he dropped his hand when he noted Inui’s attention, and Inui felt a twinge of guilt cut through the calm he’d regained.
"Idiot." Kaidoh’s voice carried in the quiet, interrupting anything Momoshiro was about to say in his own defence. Inui pretended he wasn’t grateful as Kaidoh elbowed his way past Momoshiro, heading toward the bench next to Inui where he would get changed ready for practice as he always did.
"Who you calling an idiot, huh?" Momoshiro called after Kaidoh, immediately diverted. "Who you calling an idiot?"
Kaidoh hissed, not looking up at Momoshiro as he unzipped his bag, "You, moron."
That the pair of them had so easily forgotten to question why Fuji and Inui were tucked away in the clubhouse together, with the door locked, made Inui almost giddy with relief. He couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips at he looked toward Fuji, and it only widened when he noted Fuji’s shared amusement. It filled him with a strange warmth as they shared a look, amused over a secret that only they knew, while the clubhouse slowly filled with their ignorant friends.
"Hoi, Fujiko!" Kikumaru’s cry broke the spell as he descended on Fuji, hooking an arm round his friend’s neck as he hung against him, pouting. "Where did you go in such a hurry? You could’ve waited for me."
Oishi had been with Kikumaru as he entered, but swiftly intervened to prevent the developing conflict between Momoshiro and Kaidoh. It was all background noise to Inui as he strained to hear Fuji’s response to Kikumaru, fearing that they might be caught out. His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat.
"I needed the bathroom," Fuji said simply, not the least bit ruffled. His serene calm made Inui feel silly for worrying, though when Fuji caught his gaze briefly with another smile Inui cared less. It made no sense, but Fuji’s smile made other things matter less somehow. It was something unquantifiable and should have alarmed Inui, he was certain, but he found he didn’t care terribly when he thought of the sweet curve of Fuji’s lips and how it felt to kiss him.
Inui wanted to do it again. Soon.
As Tezuka came in, Inui turned away to conceal his expression and begin changing. They were to play doubles, and Inui knew it would be a long practice with Fuji so close and still untouchable.
It was incontestable that Fuji would not seek to make it any easier.
**
Inui had been invited to lunch on the school roof the day after his oddly pictorial conversation with Fuji. He had been intending to eat in the labs while he worked (though he knew he oughtn’t really), but there was something about an invitation from Fuji that he found difficult to decline. Particularly, he told himself, because Fuji would probably wish to discuss their playing doubles - Fuji had given Inui no indication that Inui had interpreted him incorrectly in that regard, so Inui assumed he must have been right. The probability was quite high, knowing Fuji as he did.
"Fuji," he greeted as he stepped through the fire escape exit. Inui had come early, but he had been certain Fuji would still be ready and waiting for him, and he was right. Fuji was sat against the side of the building, his head tilted back and face lifted to the sky but his eyes closed against the brightness of the sun. Inui found himself distracted by the exposed column of Fuji’s neck.
"Inui," Fuji acknowledged, smiling softly but not opening his eyes or moving. Inui was glad for it; it allowed him to take in all the details of the scene, from how Fuji’s eyelashes fanned against his skin to the flush of his lips as though he’d been biting them, or as though he’d just been kissed. That wasn’t a thought Inui liked at all, and neither was the acknowledgement that this wasn’t the sort of data that he ought to be collecting.
"You had something you wished to discuss?" Inui asked, finally moving to join Fuji. He slid his bag from his shoulder, lowering it to the ground carefully before sinking down beside it. The bag between he and Fuji was like a barrier, protecting him against the inexplicable diversion from concentration that Fuji had come to constitute. He unzipped it, not looking to Fuji as he retrieved his lunch before relaxing against the brickwork.
When Inui did finally glance toward the prodigy, Fuji was looking at him with a faintly puzzled expression. It was an expression that made Inui wonder if he hadn’t been wrong after all, and to cover his confusion he focused on setting out lunch between the two of them, offering Fuji a pair of chopsticks. "Help yourself, I had my mother make extra."
"Thank you," was all Fuji said for the moment, taking the chopsticks in hand. He swirled the tips in the rice absently, but didn’t actually eat. Inui said nothing to break his concentration, watching the graceful way Fuji moved his hands. Eventually Fuji mused aloud, "I wanted to discuss something."
There was something about the statement which left Inui unable to decide whether or not it might have been a question. He frowned, picking up his own chopsticks and stubbornly ignoring the knot in his stomach - this was Fuji, not a girl and not a date. "About doubles," Inui prompted. He didn’t wish to divulge that, given Fuji’s lack of tendency to plan and his own data habits, he wasn’t certain their combination would work at all smoothly. Fuji constantly defied his data, and so a gamble might potentially pay off.
"Doubles?" Fuji echoed, chopsticks paused a scant few centimetres over the rice. He looked surprised, and oblivious to the grains falling free of his hold.
Inui knew without a doubt that he had somehow misinterpreted the message of the previous evening then, but he was still unaware of any alternative explanation that might be put to the exchange. "Your message last night," Inui clarified, adjusting his glasses. "You asked whether Kaidoh and I would be playing together in the next tournament."
Fuji’s confusion smoothed away and he helped himself to a little of the sausage with some rice. Inui, not sure what else to do in the face of Fuji’s silence, ate, too. It was a better option than watching Fuji’s throat every time the boy swallowed, which shouldn’t have been nearly so interesting as it was.
"I didn’t," Fuji admitted softly, and if Inui hadn’t believed it impossible he’d have thought Fuji were shy of what he was saying. "I wasn’t asking about doubles."
Inui could do nothing but stare at Fuji’s chopsticks as they picked out more sausage. "Oh."
**
Inui had been correct; Fuji hadn’t made the delightful ordeal of doubles any less trying. Momoshiro and Kaidoh never noticed, too busy arguing with each other, but Inui was acutely aware of the knowing smiles Fuji turned his way every time Fuji reached over his head to stretch and flashed the flat expanse of his belly.
The proposal to try the Australian formation had felt optimistic at best. With Fuji standing there, bent over at the net, shifting from one foot to the other with an agitation that was a common characteristic of Kikumaru and not remotely normal with the serene prodigy, Inui reassessed to sadistic. Inui had felt certain he was going to end up with a reaction that would have given everything away if it had gone on much longer. He had even wondered, momentarily, if Oishi ever went through a similar experience with Kikumaru, then swiftly reminded himself that such impure thoughts could never have crossed Oishi’s mind even if he had been that way inclined. Inui was just going to have to acknowledge he was a bit of a pervert, and Fuji was encouraging it.
He caught Fuji by his wrist as Momoshiro and Kaidoh went ahead of them into the clubhouse. "That was cruel," he accused, no real bite in his tone.
Fuji smiled in smug satisfaction as he remarked to Inui innocently. "I can’t imagine what you mean."
Inui tightened his grip on Fuji’s wrist and caught the flash of excitement in Fuji’s eyes before he glanced to make sure no one was coming. There was only Arai in the distance and the other club members were still on the courts. Inui pushed his glasses up his nose, flashed Fuji a wicked smile, and quickly led Fuji away from the entrance and around the back of the clubhouse.
As they walked, Fuji twisted his hand in Inui’s hold and threaded their fingers together. He squeezed Inui’s hand, his enquiry hopeful and eager behind his calm, "Inui?"
Inui didn’t answer immediately, but once they were out of sight he turned and pushed Fuji against the wall of the clubhouse. "Fuji."
Fuji stared at him, challenging, and tilted his head in that way that always caught Inui’s eye, "Yes?"
Inui’s only reply was to kiss Fuji hard, pressing against him. It went better this time, Fuji reaching up to grip his shoulders. It was still messy and inexperienced, and his glasses were misted in moments, but the feel of Fuji against him was so excitingly wonderful that he really didn’t care at all.
Fuji made a little, soft sound that wasn’t quite a sigh as he parted his lips, fingers tightening on Inui’s shoulders. It only drove Inui on, and he pushed his tongue into Fuji’s mouth with a complete lack of finesse.
The pointedly cleared throat somewhere over Inui’s right shoulder was less than welcome. For a split second Inui almost felt an inclination toward violence, but then he reluctantly pulled away. Fuji was beaming at him, locking their gazes and licking his lips slowly and deliberately before he looked to see who had interrupted their impromptu make-out session.
"Hello, Tezuka," Fuji greeted, looking even more delighted than he had already.
Inui was torn between horror at being caught by Tezuka, and relief that it wasn’t Momoshiro or Kikumaru who would tell everyone in the club in rapid succession. He gave himself a moment before turning his head in response to Tezuka’s silence. Their captain was standing there with a faint flush on his cheeks, looking uncertain as to what to say now he’d gotten their attention. It made Inui feel oddly more comfortable that Tezuka was embarrassed.
"Is there something you needed, Tezuka?" Inui asked, doing his best to pretend his own cheeks weren’t pink, too. Everything was ok, perfectly fine and normal. Hardest to ignore was the way Fuji quaked with silent giggles against him, showing complete disregard for the seriousness of the situation. Inui was finding it hard to resist joining in, and he wasn’t certain what to make of that.
Tezuka made a few false starts before he found his voice, but when he did he sounded every bit as commanding and forbidding as he ever did on the courts. "Both of you in the clubhouse, now."
Tezuka turned and walked back to the clubhouse immediately after he’d said it; it was the closest Inui had ever seen Tezuka come to running away. Inui looked back to Fuji, who was still giggling, and was hard pressed to keep an amused smile from his face.
**
After their lunch on the roof, Inui had been left somewhat adrift. Fuji hadn’t bothered to clarify what it was that he had meant before lunch was through, and Inui felt unable to ask when it was obvious to Fuji that Inui did not know and Fuji still had not volunteered the information. There had to be a reason, a puzzle, but even writing everything he knew in his notebook had failed to lead to even a vague conclusion.
It had been a long while, Inui thought, since he’d felt quite so lost in one of Fuji’s games. Every time he gave thought to the matter, his attention would wander from a serious contemplation of what Fuji had meant on to frivolous indulgence in daydreams. Inui found himself thinking about the way Fuji’s clothing clung when he moved around, and about how his t-shirt rose to reveal smooth skin when he jumped or bent to tie his laces. Most of all he thought about Fuji’s mouth, and had even caught himself staring at it more often than meeting Fuji’s eyes.
Inui felt trapped - he could no longer look at Fuji without blushing over all the other thoughts it brought to mind. He could neither think of Fuji sensibly nor logically. He could find no answer to Fuji’s question if that answer was not doubles. Over and over Inui told himself that the one thing he secretly fancied it might have been… it could never be. Fuji was a boy, and so was Inui, and that could never be right, never work.
Those were the thoughts that occupied Inui’s mind the lunchtime following that rooftop talk. Fuji hadn’t asked him to eat with him again, and Inui wasn’t sure how else to take it than as a bad sign. He had obviously erred, but rather than coming up with some plan or theory about how to rectify the situation, he was doodling pointlessly on his pad in the library. Inui couldn’t remember the last time he’d doodled pointlessly. He felt patently ridiculous.
"Hey," Fuji interrupted his thoughts, and Inui was so far away that his pen skidded over the page of his notebook and tore through the sheet. Fuji looked mildly alarmed for a moment, but more than that he seemed uncertain as he stood holding his bag a little too tightly before Inui’s gaze. Normally Fuji would have taken a seat without bothering to enquire whether Inui objected to the company or not. "Sorry, Inui."
"It’s ok," Inui muttered by way of reply, feeling every bit as awkward as Fuji looked. He dropped his pen on the tabletop with a clatter and ripped the page from his notepad, crumpling it in his hand with intent to drop it into the trash later. "It wasn’t important."
Fuji nodded, glancing around the library. He was looking anywhere but Inui, and Inui was feeling more and more discomfited that he’d gone so heinously wrong as to leave Fuji so unsettled. Surely assuming Fuji had meant doubles didn’t merit such unease between them.
Inui swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Would you like to sit down?"
Fuji nodded again, lowering his bag to the floor and slipping into the seat opposite. He clasped his hands on the table before him, finding his easy smile with more confidence than when he’d been standing.
Inui looked away when he realised he was staring at Fuji’s lips and not meeting Fuji’s gaze. His own mouth had gone quite dry and he felt like he’d always expected to feel before a date, except this wasn’t a date because Fuji was a boy. And besides, if it had been a date, which it wasn’t because it was the library and Fuji was a boy, Fuji would have said so outright with his effortless confidence.
"Inui," Fuji called to him, and Inui turned his head before he could think to prevent himself responding. Fuji was regarding him with an odd earnestness. "Would you like to come round tonight?"
"Come round?" Inui echoed, stumbling over the words though he knew exactly what they meant truly.
"To my house," Fuji clarified, fingers tightening where they were clasped though his smile didn’t waver. "I have shogi."
"I like shogi," Inui confessed, staring at Fuji’s fingers this time. They were long and slender, as he’d already known, but never before had his mind leapt to the idea of Fuji touching him so swiftly. Even as he was thinking up a ‘but’ that might ensure his safety from temptation, his mouth ran ahead of him. "I would like that, to come round."
Fuji relaxed almost instantly, his smile losing an edge that Inui hadn’t realised it had had. "I’ll meet you later then."
**
"Inui," Fuji had said, once Tezuka was out of earshot. "What time do your parents get home?"
That was all it had taken to have Inui’s belly back in knots and a level of unsurpassed anxious anticipation thrumming through him. After that Inui had absorbed as much of Tezuka’s talk as if it had been white noise, his entire focus taken by Fuji. The tilt of Fuji’s head, the line of his neck, his skin when he changed… Inui knew he oughtn’t to have looked, but Fuji had wanted him to and so he had. It had left his clothes feeling uncomfortably restrictive and made him glad that he had changed more quickly himself, keeping him safe from embarrassed exposure.
"Is something wrong?" Fuji had asked when he caught Inui’s discomfort. They’d been left behind alone because everyone else had changed when Inui was tugging Fuji behind the clubhouse. Had Inui not known the true extent of Fuji’s wicked deviousness, he might have thought him pure as the driven snow in that moment, so sweet and caring had he sounded in making the enquiry.
"No," Inui denied, deciding that they would take the bus to his home. It was too far to walk when he hadn’t hit upon the solution to countering Fuji’s teasing.
Fuji didn’t give a proper answer, but he looked doubtful enough that Inui stored it away. He would find a way to take his revenge when they were not in public, because he could not share Fuji’s lack of shame when he was uncertain exactly what he was doing.
"Are you ready?" Inui asked as he zipped up his bag at last. Fuji had distracted his attention and overtaken him without his notice, again. Factoring Fuji into his reactions was going to play havoc with his data.
"Very ready," Fuji promised in a suggestive whisper. It was far too direct for Fuji, so Inui recognised instantly what had to be going on. When he glanced up, it was, therefore, unsurprising to see Tezuka stood in the doorway blushing faintly, again.
Inui chose not to acknowledge Tezuka, because to apologise or blush would make it look like he was ashamed. He wasn’t ashamed; he knew that, he just felt naughty. So instead of addressing his captain, he asked Fuji, "Twice?"
Inui wasn’t sure whether to hope that these incidents ended up affecting Tezuka’s game play as much as they did his own or not. On the one hand, he would rather beat Tezuka at full strength. On the other, it didn’t look like Fuji would be allowing him to play at full strength himself anytime soon.
Fuji shrugged, butter wouldn’t melt, and shouldered his bag. "How was I supposed to know he was there?" Louder, as if Tezuka would have somehow become selectively deaf to their initial exchange, he greeted, "Hello again, Tezuka."
"Fuji," Tezuka managed, not quite so surprised as to have lost his cool again so soon. "I was going to lock up if you’re done."
Inui could have seen what was coming next from miles away and averted his face to conceal his amusement by adjusting his glasses. He respected Tezuka enough that he didn’t wish to make Tezuka think he was laughing at him.
"Oh, Tezuka," said Fuji. "We haven’t even begun."
The only reply, the one Inui had predicted with considerable accuracy, was the sound of Tezuka walking away. Inui thought better of commenting on it to Fuji, simply picking up his bag and leading the way the way out of the clubhouse so that Tezuka could steal back once he knew that Fuji was far away. "I thought we’d get the bus."
"Oh," Fuji exclaimed, sounding dangerously delighted. "The bus!"
Inui glanced at him, fully comprehending that Fuji had something in mind, but, as ever, unable to predict what it might be. He had considered the bus a safer option, one that would convey both Fuji and himself to their destination in the shortest amount of time with minimal exposure to anyone who might happen to spot them. Now he was wondering if he shouldn’t re-evaluate that opinion. On a bus, after all, Fuji would not need to devote any attention to walking.
Inui parted his lips to suggest they walk after all, regardless of how uncomfortable it might end up being for him, but the words never made it past his lips. Deep down, or perhaps even not so deep down, he wanted to see exactly what Fuji was going to do. On the bus, with a camera in the ceiling and strangers taking in their every move. It was quite, quite wrong, and Inui wanted it anyway.
"It’s not a long journey," was what he ended up cautioning instead.
"That’s ok," Fuji said agreeably, bumping his shoulder against Inui’s as they walked.
Inui smiled despite himself, glancing sideways to meet Fuji’s mischievous gaze and shaking his head. He was signing himself up for a world of trouble, but he wasn’t the only one so that was ok. Fuji’s smile was all promise, and it almost made him shiver.
It was only when Inui spotted the bus at the far end of the street that he thought to question who would pay for their fares. Fuji was a boy, after all, not a girl. It was a fact of which Inui was acutely aware. Should Inui pay anyway? Did going to his house in order to make-out actually count as a date?
As the bus came to a halt, Inui decided to take care of it regardless. Fuji was the type to reward such chivalry, maybe, even if he was laughing at it at the same time. "I’ll pay."
"Such a gentleman," Fuji cooed predictably, and slid his arm through Inui’s as they climbed aboard at the back. Inui could feel his face flame, and almost regretted the decision - almost except that the weight of Fuji’s head against his shoulder was really rather pleasant. He reached to snatch two tickets for them quickly so they could sit down.
"What a cute couple," murmured someone behind them. Inui assumed it must be a woman because men simply didn’t say things like that, except when Fuji did.
"We are rather cute, aren’t we, Inui?" Fuji murmured, squeezing his arm and beaming up at him sweetly. Inui could see the amusement sparkling in Fuji’s eyes, and found himself momentarily distracted.
"Excuse me," reminded the same voice gently, and Inui wanted to die. He was stood obstructing the bus aisle, gazing at Fuji like a love-struck fool and everyone was staring at him.
"I apologise," he muttered, on the edge of stammering and hurried Fuji into a seat since Fuji was apparently too busy quaking with giggles against his side to do anything by way of helping him. Fuji seemed to have been doing that a lot recently.
"She is very lovely," the woman said sympathetically, bending down to whisper it in Inui’s ear before she passed by to her own seat. Inui froze in shock as he watched her walk away, a short, plump and kindly looking woman who couldn’t really possibly be joking.
"Inui?" Fuji asked, curious as to why Inui had tensed up no doubt. He’d placed his bag beside the window so that their thighs and sides were pressed together, and Inui was half convinced Fuji had to have heard her and was just teasing him further.
Glancing after the woman, he adjusted his glasses self-consciously before leaning in to bring his mouth close to Fuji’s ear where he mightn’t be overheard by anyone - particularly the lady in question. "She thinks you’re a girl."
Fuji blinked and slid his gaze from the window to Inui’s face looking quite solemn and serious. "You don’t think I’m a girl, do you, Inui?"
Inui stared at him. It was a long moment before he realised Fuji was teasing him this time, and during that moment all Inui could manage to think was ‘I’ve seen you in the showers!’ It was not a thought which was doing anything to help alleviate his blush. "No, Fuji," he said very softly, still so wary of who could be listening. "I don’t think you’re a girl."
"Oh good," Fuji said helpfully. "You might have been a bit surprised."
**
Inui hadn’t been sure what going to Fuji’s to play shogi would involve, but he supposed, strictly speaking, it was a little silly not to expect the involvement of playing shogi. It was simply that it was Fuji, and he’d never ever been able to be certain of anything with Fuji. Still, there they were with a board between them and the game halfway through. Inui found he was enjoying himself immensely between the challenge and the fact it was Fuji.
He’d stopped telling himself that the latter fact shouldn’t matter because it did and denial only complicated everything. For better, or for worse, Inui had a preoccupation with Fuji and he was going to study it and come to understand it one way or another.
Playing with Fuji wasn’t quite how he’d imagined it might be. In Inui’s head, Fuji playing shogi had always involved swift plays. Inui would linger over each move himself, considering each and every possibility - planning. But Fuji would react immediately to the situation, as he did on the tennis courts. In reality Fuji was lingering as much as Inui, only he was doing it in a wholly distracting way that seemed to involve his mouth an incredibly large amount.
For instance, Fuji would need to take a sip from his juice every time it was his turn. It would leave his lips damp and shiny, and after a moment he’d slowly and deliberately lick them clean as Inui tried not to stare. As Fuji considered his move, he’d lightly touch the playing pieces and sometimes linger on one. Inui was sure there was nothing really suggestive about Fuji circling his fingertip atop a shogi piece, but it had made him uncomfortable and restless.
"Is everything ok, Inui?" Fuji asked him. He didn’t look as wicked as he usually did when he was toying with someone; he looked a little uncertain or even hopeful instead. Inui hadn’t thought that anything could make Fuji harder to read than he already was, but something had.
"Fine," Inui answered, then thought better of it. "I might get myself another drink while you decide on your move."
Fuji looked like he might say something, but Inui didn’t pause because he wasn’t sure he trusted himself. This felt like uncharted territory and he was wary of his every move in a way he didn’t like.
The kitchen was much cooler in comparison to Fuji’s room where they’d been playing. Inui wasn’t sure why Fuji needed to have such a large bed. He wasn’t even sure that Fuji’s bed was large, he just knew that he kept staring at it when he wasn’t staring at Fuji.
If Fuji had been a girl, Inui would have been slapped by now; he was certain of that much. Fuji was a boy though, and Inui was coming to realise he liked that a lot.
It was only as Inui reached the sink that he realised he’d stupidly left his glass with Fuji. Footsteps behind him indicated that Fuji had already noticed as much and followed him. All the knots in Inui’s belly twisted oddly, and he wasn’t at all sure how to explain it.
"You don’t seem yourself," Fuji offered, cautiously. He was holding the glass with both hands as if he were trying to keep himself from fidgeting when Inui turned to look at him.
"I don’t feel myself," Inui admitted. He straightened his glasses again, uncomfortable with his admission. He was talking about something he didn’t understand in a place where he wasn’t at ease and with a Fuji he felt he didn’t really know and couldn’t stop obsessing over. "What did you mean?" Inui asked. He didn’t know how to keep playing the game.
"Only that you-" Fuji began, before Inui shook his head to cut him off.
"Not just now," Inui clarified. "When you didn’t mean doubles, what did you mean?"
"Oh, that," Fuji said, and Inui abruptly realised that Fuji had known exactly what he had meant and had been attempting to evade responding to it. He visibly drew himself up in preparation for answering Inui’s question, "I was asking you out."
Inui blinked, "Oh." Then he blinked again, and a smile cracked his confused exterior. All the time Inui had been tying himself in knots, it had been for nothing. He felt like laughing, like he was a little out of control, hysterical was probably the word. "Like on a date?"
"Like on a date," Fuji said. He, too, was smiling now, obviously able to read the cause of Inui’s discomfort as his own success. He moved tentatively closer, and Inui’s heart rate began to speed.
"Well," Inui said, and swallowed roughly when Fuji was suddenly very close and he found he no longer had any words and the urge to laugh uncontrollably had died dry in his mouth. Fuji was close enough to kiss, and that was all the information that his brain was letting through.
"Syuusuke?! Are you here?!"
Inui had never thought he’d see a day when he found Yumiko’s presence unwelcome.
**
A bit surprised, Inui reflected with an amused smirk, was not really how he felt as he lay over Fuji, engaging him in long, lazy kisses less than an hour after they’d left school. It felt surreal, dreamlike, but not surprising, never surprising with Fuji.
The house had been quiet, empty when they had arrived, just as Inui had anticipated. Despite the absence of his parents, however, he had still felt keenly aware of the fact he was doing something very naughty as he led Fuji by the hand up to his bedroom. Their bags and shoes were both discarded by the door, inside Inui’s room where Inui’s parents could not spot them before Inui and Fuji were aware that they’d arrived. For long moments he and Fuji had stood regarding each other with smiles that were full of wicked promise, before abruptly (Inui had no idea who had made the first move), they had come together.
They weren’t terribly good at kissing, yet. In their eagerness they were all bumping teeth and bruised mouths. Inui found kissing with tongue odd and wet, but he thought he could quite like it. Kissing was better when he wasn’t wearing his glasses, too. Inui had liked the way Fuji had paused and looked at him when he’d removed them.
"What?" Inui had asked as Fuji stared, his own eyes riveted to the puffiness of Fuji’s mouth. He was close enough, as they lay on his bed, that wearing his glasses wasn’t really necessary. They were doing a lot more touching than looking anyway - careful caresses, full body presses and tentative exploration that was maddening whether Inui was doing it or receiving it.
"Nothing," Fuji said, smiling widely and licking his lips. He hooked his leg over Inui’s thighs, bringing them ever closer. "Hello."
"Hello," Inui replied, unable to keep from mirroring the smile. He felt daring as he rocked his hips against Fuji’s, but watching Fuji shiver and sigh was ample reward. Fuji’s hand was fisted in Inui’s top, and the material had pulled tighter when Inui moved - it made it all more exciting somehow.
Fuji tugged him down for another kiss, sloppy and more hurried as that secret, yearning neediness began to claim them. Inui could feel that Fuji wanted it as much as he did, and he no longer cared that his parents might be back at any moment - it was too good to stop.
"Like this?" Fuji asked breathlessly, though he showed no sign of objecting to their frantic motions as he held Inui close.
Inui nuzzled Fuji’s cheek, thinking for a moment. He had an idea, a way to drive Fuji a little mad as repayment for all his teasing and unhelpfulness throughout the day. Inui pulled back enough to leave some room between them and moved his hand from Fuji’s hip to rub him through his pants. Fuji’s gasp of surprise was delicious. For once, Inui had taken the initiative and done the unexpected. He felt smug.
"Sadaharu," Fuji moaned, squirming beneath Inui’s touch and tugging Inui’s top even tighter into the ball in his hands. It seemed very Fuji to simply claim the right of Inui’s name without asking, and entirely appropriate in the circumstances. Inui decided he liked the sound.
Unable to help himself, Inui fumbled to undo the fastenings of Fuji’s pants and slide his hand inside. He knew how to do it, he thought - he’d done it himself often enough. Fuji was hot and hard, and it was terribly easy with the knowledge that he was doing exactly what Fuji wanted. Inui felt powerful watching as Fuji’s head fell back against the pillow with his lips parted as he gasped softly. Inui could also better anticipate Fuji’s behaviour in the situation they were in, he was sure; that made him feel powerful, too.
Fuji’s mouth was too tempting for Inui to keep resisting. He covered Fuji’s lips with his own, pretending that the little sounds Fuji was making as he pet him weren’t exciting him as much as they were. They were only noises, he told himself, but Fuji was clutching at him tighter and tighter as he writhed and it was difficult not to get caught up.
"Sadaharu," Fuji said again, voice whispery. He was shuddering and earnest as he broke the kiss to turn his face away. Inui kissed Fuji’s neck as Fuji’s chest heaved and he jerked with the intensity of it all. Inui could feel everything acutely, and felt incredibly needy for it. He almost found himself pushed to the brink alongside Fuji, and had to clench his free hand in a fist as he wiped his fingers heedlessly on his bed covers when Fuji was done.
"Like that," Inui told Fuji when he’d collected himself and could tell Fuji was listening instead of swimming on sensation. He felt smug, too, though he remained keenly aware of his own need as he pressed against Fuji’s side.
"I approve," Fuji purred, looking for all the world like a lazy cat. He was sated, his eyes half closed as he looked at Inui. To Inui, he looked on the edge of sleep and so it was the last thing Inui was expecting when Fuji suddenly sprang at him. With Fuji bearing him down, he toppled onto his back. It knocked his breath from him, the surprise as much as the impact; apparently he couldn't anticipate Fuji as well as he'd thought after all.
"Syuusuke?" Inui asked, his voice low with the weight of wary anticipation. Fuji’s name came to him with unexpected ease, and felt right somehow. Inui liked saying Fuji’s name as much as he liked Fuji saying his.
"Yes?" Fuji asked, his tone all promise as he slid his hand up Inui’s chest. Fuji hadn’t even bothered to fasten his pants. Before Inui had chance to collect himself, Fuji’s hand moved south, freezing Inui’s mouth in a round ‘o’.
"Nothing," Inui said quickly, once he’d swallowed around the lump in his throat, and sank back against his pillow. He was fast coming to understand exactly why Fuji had behaved as he had when Inui had had his hands on him. There was something quite different in it being another person’s hand - in it being Fuji’s hand. Inui finally felt as though that persistent ache that had plagued him as he pet Fuji was being tended. It left him feeling relaxed, even while Fuji stirred his desires into an even greater maelstrom.
"Nothing at all," Inui said again, nestling his head into the cool, cotton pillow. And, at last, it was really the truth.
Recipient's name: goldie
Rating: R
Pairing: Inui/Fuji
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: The story alternates between two different timelines, changing with each new scene.
Author's notes: Happy Spring Fluff! I really hope you enjoy this, Goldie ^_^ Also a big thanks to K for putting up with my nerves and betaing for me.
[]-[] + ^_^ = <3
Inui had been acutely aware of Fuji’s presence the entire walk to the club house - it had left him quickening his pace in anticipation - but his heart still leapt in his chest when he heard Fuji lock the door behind them. Practice started in less than ten minutes, the other regulars would be turning up at any moment. His stomach had twisted itself into knots and his palms felt cold and sweaty all at once as he clutched the strap of his bag, frozen in place and staring at the wall.
"Inui?" Fuji asked softly.
He was closer than Inui had imagined and it made him startle, glancing round to see Fuji paused in the act of reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. Across the room he could see Fuji’s bag already discarded on the bench for later. Quickly, embarrassed, he collected himself and slid his own bag from his shoulder to place it on the bench before him.
"Sorry, Fuji," he said, adjusting his glasses and attempting to relax as he turned toward the other boy.
Fuji smiled at him, taking a step closer to invade Inui’s personal space. Inui found he didn’t really mind that at all. "I suppose I might forgive you," Fuji offered, tilting his head to one side in that beguiling way he had. Inui forgot how to breathe for a moment. "If…"
It took long seconds for Inui to find his voice - Fuji’s proximity made it difficult not to sway toward him. "If what?" he asked, inhaling slowly in an effort to retain his calm. He placed his hands at Fuji’s waist because Fuji was so very close and that seemed like the safest place. Fuji felt warm beneath his touch.
Fuji’s smile widened and he reached up to slide his arms around Inui’s neck as he took another step nearer. His shirt was brushing against Inui’s, the material of their trousers just shy of touching, too. He radiated challenge as he lifted his chin, eyes sparkling as he repeated, "If…"
Inui smiled slowly, almost a grin - he couldn’t help it when Fuji was smiling at him like that and nervous excitement had him in its grip. His hold on Fuji’s waist tightened minutely as he leant forward to brush his lips gently against Fuji’s. It wasn’t so hard really, and Fuji’s lips were very soft beneath his own. It made him feel light headed, even when their noses bumped awkwardly and his glasses steamed up.
Fuji closed the last space between them, leaning against Inui as they pressed their mouths together. Now Inui could feel Fuji’s breathing, quick and excited against his lips, feel Fuji’s uncertainty as they kissed. It made Inui feel braver as he wrapped his arms securely around Fuji’s waist. Inui couldn’t see him clearly any longer through the fog of his glasses.
"I forgive you," Fuji whispered hotly. Inui could tell he was smiling without needing to see it.
Inui licked his lips and kissed Fuji again, not caring that his glasses made it awkward. He felt increasingly warm with Fuji nestled against him, heat pooling inside him and driving him onward. It didn’t matter that they were only minutes away from Oishi or Tezuka unlocking the door and discovering them - only that Fuji’s mouth stayed against his as he tentatively parted his lips.
So, of course, it was then that the hammering on the door occurred. Inui knocked his nose against Fuji’s again, biting his own tongue in surprise. His eyes were watering as he stumbled backward away from the collision, narrowly avoiding sitting on his bag. He grunted as his ass hit the bench, and couldn’t really think of anything to say.
Fuji was merely a blur before him so Inui couldn’t see his expression. Inui could hear Fuji when he laughed though, and his face warmed with embarrassment. That had really not been how Inui had intended their first kiss to go.
**
It had started with Inui ostensibly doing his English homework, but really daydreaming about how he might alter his latest juice. The Extra Special Golden Deluxe Inui Juice was still a little too strong, to put it mildly. He had woken up five hours later with a bump on the back of his head last time he’d tested it. He suspected it could have been a lot longer than that had Fuji not found him in the science lab when he was late for practice. There were disadvantages to working unobtrusively at times.
As if he had known of whom Inui were thinking, a message from Fuji popped up on Inui’s computer screen.
[]-[] + (|:-| ?
More than once in the past, Fuji had sent Inui seemingly nonsensical messages. Usually there was a code to them, and more often than not Inui enjoyed the challenge. This wasn’t a code though; it was highly bemusing. Inui simply had no idea what Fuji was meant to be asking about Kaidoh and himself. It would have been easy enough to clarify, but that would involve conceding his claim that he could understand Fuji and he wasn’t prepared to do that.
Both Inui’s English homework and juice plans alike ended up forgotten as he tried to frame a reply. It was an illogical trend that he liked to pretend he hadn’t noticed, but his habits of observation would not allow him to escape it either. For some reason, sometime during the preceding few months, Fuji Syuusuke had come to possess the ability to unfailingly occupy some part of Inui’s attention, however small, simply by being present in the general vicinity. It defied all reason.
In the ranking tournament the previous month, for example, Inui had missed an easy return in a match with Kikumaru because he’d noticed Fuji handing Kawamura his racket. The slip had made no sense to Inui, because it was hardly the first time such an exchange had occurred and, even if it had been, Inui’s attention had been focused exclusively on his court and Kikumaru. At first Inui had thought it merely a small lapse, had supposed that the sun might have caught on Fuji’s watch, or something similar, and that was why Inui had been diverted. It was only after several more similar occurrences took place in the following weeks (always with Inui’s attention caught by Fuji, and each meticulously recorded in his notebook so that he could not mistake himself), that Inui acknowledged that Fuji had found a way to impede his ability to play tennis. A gauntlet had been thrown down.
When Fuji had sat close to Inui during Oishi’s pep talk the previous week, Inui had further been forced to accept that the game was leaving him unnerved. With Fuji’s thigh brushing against Inui’s every time he shifted, Inui had found himself frequently blotting sweaty palms against his trousers and even smudging the ink in his notebook. He’d switched back to pencil after that.
Now, as though Inui had not found the logical foundations of his world upset enough with the strange shortness of breath and agitated heart rate that he was enduring all too often (the doctor had assured him that it wasn’t a heart condition), Fuji was adding to his confusion with pictorial messages better suited to Kikumaru’s internet discussions.
Feeling as though he was taking his life in his hands, Inui carefully laid his fingers over the keys. The most probable eventuality was that Fuji wished to enquire as to whether Inui and Kaidoh would be competing together in doubles in the next tournament match. There was little else that Inui and Kaidoh did together aside from training.
∑:D + (|:-|
Inui regarded the odd combination of symbols uncertainly, wondering if he’d chosen the right way of depicting Momoshiro. Emoticons and their derivatives had never been his strong point when it came to conversing online. To Inui’s view, they served very little purpose other than to give the misleading impression that each and every person with a PC at their fingertips acted the way Kikumaru did in reality.
Inui pressed return before he had time to think on it any further. Fuji could only be asking about doubles after all.
Fuji’s reply came almost instantly:
[]-[] + ^_^ = ?
**
Inui was standing with his back to the door when it finally opened, cleaning his glasses on the edge of his shirt. His tongue felt tender and his nose ached, but he stayed silent as Momoshiro edged in uncertainly. Inui felt a perverse sense of pleasure at how unnerved Momoshiro was now that he’d realised who he had interrupted.
"Is, ah, everything alright?" Momoshiro asked.
Inui slipped his glasses on, pleased to be able to see clearly, and turned to take Momoshiro in as he stood in the doorway scratching the back of his neck. Kaidoh was lurking behind him, his expression making it obvious how uncomfortable he was to be associated with the moron who’d interrupted their seniors.
"Shouldn’t it be?" Inui asked, tone curious. He allowed himself a brief glance toward Fuji who was leaning against the wall opposite with a serene smile. Fuji was also absently fingering his nose, though he dropped his hand when he noted Inui’s attention, and Inui felt a twinge of guilt cut through the calm he’d regained.
"Idiot." Kaidoh’s voice carried in the quiet, interrupting anything Momoshiro was about to say in his own defence. Inui pretended he wasn’t grateful as Kaidoh elbowed his way past Momoshiro, heading toward the bench next to Inui where he would get changed ready for practice as he always did.
"Who you calling an idiot, huh?" Momoshiro called after Kaidoh, immediately diverted. "Who you calling an idiot?"
Kaidoh hissed, not looking up at Momoshiro as he unzipped his bag, "You, moron."
That the pair of them had so easily forgotten to question why Fuji and Inui were tucked away in the clubhouse together, with the door locked, made Inui almost giddy with relief. He couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips at he looked toward Fuji, and it only widened when he noted Fuji’s shared amusement. It filled him with a strange warmth as they shared a look, amused over a secret that only they knew, while the clubhouse slowly filled with their ignorant friends.
"Hoi, Fujiko!" Kikumaru’s cry broke the spell as he descended on Fuji, hooking an arm round his friend’s neck as he hung against him, pouting. "Where did you go in such a hurry? You could’ve waited for me."
Oishi had been with Kikumaru as he entered, but swiftly intervened to prevent the developing conflict between Momoshiro and Kaidoh. It was all background noise to Inui as he strained to hear Fuji’s response to Kikumaru, fearing that they might be caught out. His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat.
"I needed the bathroom," Fuji said simply, not the least bit ruffled. His serene calm made Inui feel silly for worrying, though when Fuji caught his gaze briefly with another smile Inui cared less. It made no sense, but Fuji’s smile made other things matter less somehow. It was something unquantifiable and should have alarmed Inui, he was certain, but he found he didn’t care terribly when he thought of the sweet curve of Fuji’s lips and how it felt to kiss him.
Inui wanted to do it again. Soon.
As Tezuka came in, Inui turned away to conceal his expression and begin changing. They were to play doubles, and Inui knew it would be a long practice with Fuji so close and still untouchable.
It was incontestable that Fuji would not seek to make it any easier.
**
Inui had been invited to lunch on the school roof the day after his oddly pictorial conversation with Fuji. He had been intending to eat in the labs while he worked (though he knew he oughtn’t really), but there was something about an invitation from Fuji that he found difficult to decline. Particularly, he told himself, because Fuji would probably wish to discuss their playing doubles - Fuji had given Inui no indication that Inui had interpreted him incorrectly in that regard, so Inui assumed he must have been right. The probability was quite high, knowing Fuji as he did.
"Fuji," he greeted as he stepped through the fire escape exit. Inui had come early, but he had been certain Fuji would still be ready and waiting for him, and he was right. Fuji was sat against the side of the building, his head tilted back and face lifted to the sky but his eyes closed against the brightness of the sun. Inui found himself distracted by the exposed column of Fuji’s neck.
"Inui," Fuji acknowledged, smiling softly but not opening his eyes or moving. Inui was glad for it; it allowed him to take in all the details of the scene, from how Fuji’s eyelashes fanned against his skin to the flush of his lips as though he’d been biting them, or as though he’d just been kissed. That wasn’t a thought Inui liked at all, and neither was the acknowledgement that this wasn’t the sort of data that he ought to be collecting.
"You had something you wished to discuss?" Inui asked, finally moving to join Fuji. He slid his bag from his shoulder, lowering it to the ground carefully before sinking down beside it. The bag between he and Fuji was like a barrier, protecting him against the inexplicable diversion from concentration that Fuji had come to constitute. He unzipped it, not looking to Fuji as he retrieved his lunch before relaxing against the brickwork.
When Inui did finally glance toward the prodigy, Fuji was looking at him with a faintly puzzled expression. It was an expression that made Inui wonder if he hadn’t been wrong after all, and to cover his confusion he focused on setting out lunch between the two of them, offering Fuji a pair of chopsticks. "Help yourself, I had my mother make extra."
"Thank you," was all Fuji said for the moment, taking the chopsticks in hand. He swirled the tips in the rice absently, but didn’t actually eat. Inui said nothing to break his concentration, watching the graceful way Fuji moved his hands. Eventually Fuji mused aloud, "I wanted to discuss something."
There was something about the statement which left Inui unable to decide whether or not it might have been a question. He frowned, picking up his own chopsticks and stubbornly ignoring the knot in his stomach - this was Fuji, not a girl and not a date. "About doubles," Inui prompted. He didn’t wish to divulge that, given Fuji’s lack of tendency to plan and his own data habits, he wasn’t certain their combination would work at all smoothly. Fuji constantly defied his data, and so a gamble might potentially pay off.
"Doubles?" Fuji echoed, chopsticks paused a scant few centimetres over the rice. He looked surprised, and oblivious to the grains falling free of his hold.
Inui knew without a doubt that he had somehow misinterpreted the message of the previous evening then, but he was still unaware of any alternative explanation that might be put to the exchange. "Your message last night," Inui clarified, adjusting his glasses. "You asked whether Kaidoh and I would be playing together in the next tournament."
Fuji’s confusion smoothed away and he helped himself to a little of the sausage with some rice. Inui, not sure what else to do in the face of Fuji’s silence, ate, too. It was a better option than watching Fuji’s throat every time the boy swallowed, which shouldn’t have been nearly so interesting as it was.
"I didn’t," Fuji admitted softly, and if Inui hadn’t believed it impossible he’d have thought Fuji were shy of what he was saying. "I wasn’t asking about doubles."
Inui could do nothing but stare at Fuji’s chopsticks as they picked out more sausage. "Oh."
**
Inui had been correct; Fuji hadn’t made the delightful ordeal of doubles any less trying. Momoshiro and Kaidoh never noticed, too busy arguing with each other, but Inui was acutely aware of the knowing smiles Fuji turned his way every time Fuji reached over his head to stretch and flashed the flat expanse of his belly.
The proposal to try the Australian formation had felt optimistic at best. With Fuji standing there, bent over at the net, shifting from one foot to the other with an agitation that was a common characteristic of Kikumaru and not remotely normal with the serene prodigy, Inui reassessed to sadistic. Inui had felt certain he was going to end up with a reaction that would have given everything away if it had gone on much longer. He had even wondered, momentarily, if Oishi ever went through a similar experience with Kikumaru, then swiftly reminded himself that such impure thoughts could never have crossed Oishi’s mind even if he had been that way inclined. Inui was just going to have to acknowledge he was a bit of a pervert, and Fuji was encouraging it.
He caught Fuji by his wrist as Momoshiro and Kaidoh went ahead of them into the clubhouse. "That was cruel," he accused, no real bite in his tone.
Fuji smiled in smug satisfaction as he remarked to Inui innocently. "I can’t imagine what you mean."
Inui tightened his grip on Fuji’s wrist and caught the flash of excitement in Fuji’s eyes before he glanced to make sure no one was coming. There was only Arai in the distance and the other club members were still on the courts. Inui pushed his glasses up his nose, flashed Fuji a wicked smile, and quickly led Fuji away from the entrance and around the back of the clubhouse.
As they walked, Fuji twisted his hand in Inui’s hold and threaded their fingers together. He squeezed Inui’s hand, his enquiry hopeful and eager behind his calm, "Inui?"
Inui didn’t answer immediately, but once they were out of sight he turned and pushed Fuji against the wall of the clubhouse. "Fuji."
Fuji stared at him, challenging, and tilted his head in that way that always caught Inui’s eye, "Yes?"
Inui’s only reply was to kiss Fuji hard, pressing against him. It went better this time, Fuji reaching up to grip his shoulders. It was still messy and inexperienced, and his glasses were misted in moments, but the feel of Fuji against him was so excitingly wonderful that he really didn’t care at all.
Fuji made a little, soft sound that wasn’t quite a sigh as he parted his lips, fingers tightening on Inui’s shoulders. It only drove Inui on, and he pushed his tongue into Fuji’s mouth with a complete lack of finesse.
The pointedly cleared throat somewhere over Inui’s right shoulder was less than welcome. For a split second Inui almost felt an inclination toward violence, but then he reluctantly pulled away. Fuji was beaming at him, locking their gazes and licking his lips slowly and deliberately before he looked to see who had interrupted their impromptu make-out session.
"Hello, Tezuka," Fuji greeted, looking even more delighted than he had already.
Inui was torn between horror at being caught by Tezuka, and relief that it wasn’t Momoshiro or Kikumaru who would tell everyone in the club in rapid succession. He gave himself a moment before turning his head in response to Tezuka’s silence. Their captain was standing there with a faint flush on his cheeks, looking uncertain as to what to say now he’d gotten their attention. It made Inui feel oddly more comfortable that Tezuka was embarrassed.
"Is there something you needed, Tezuka?" Inui asked, doing his best to pretend his own cheeks weren’t pink, too. Everything was ok, perfectly fine and normal. Hardest to ignore was the way Fuji quaked with silent giggles against him, showing complete disregard for the seriousness of the situation. Inui was finding it hard to resist joining in, and he wasn’t certain what to make of that.
Tezuka made a few false starts before he found his voice, but when he did he sounded every bit as commanding and forbidding as he ever did on the courts. "Both of you in the clubhouse, now."
Tezuka turned and walked back to the clubhouse immediately after he’d said it; it was the closest Inui had ever seen Tezuka come to running away. Inui looked back to Fuji, who was still giggling, and was hard pressed to keep an amused smile from his face.
**
After their lunch on the roof, Inui had been left somewhat adrift. Fuji hadn’t bothered to clarify what it was that he had meant before lunch was through, and Inui felt unable to ask when it was obvious to Fuji that Inui did not know and Fuji still had not volunteered the information. There had to be a reason, a puzzle, but even writing everything he knew in his notebook had failed to lead to even a vague conclusion.
It had been a long while, Inui thought, since he’d felt quite so lost in one of Fuji’s games. Every time he gave thought to the matter, his attention would wander from a serious contemplation of what Fuji had meant on to frivolous indulgence in daydreams. Inui found himself thinking about the way Fuji’s clothing clung when he moved around, and about how his t-shirt rose to reveal smooth skin when he jumped or bent to tie his laces. Most of all he thought about Fuji’s mouth, and had even caught himself staring at it more often than meeting Fuji’s eyes.
Inui felt trapped - he could no longer look at Fuji without blushing over all the other thoughts it brought to mind. He could neither think of Fuji sensibly nor logically. He could find no answer to Fuji’s question if that answer was not doubles. Over and over Inui told himself that the one thing he secretly fancied it might have been… it could never be. Fuji was a boy, and so was Inui, and that could never be right, never work.
Those were the thoughts that occupied Inui’s mind the lunchtime following that rooftop talk. Fuji hadn’t asked him to eat with him again, and Inui wasn’t sure how else to take it than as a bad sign. He had obviously erred, but rather than coming up with some plan or theory about how to rectify the situation, he was doodling pointlessly on his pad in the library. Inui couldn’t remember the last time he’d doodled pointlessly. He felt patently ridiculous.
"Hey," Fuji interrupted his thoughts, and Inui was so far away that his pen skidded over the page of his notebook and tore through the sheet. Fuji looked mildly alarmed for a moment, but more than that he seemed uncertain as he stood holding his bag a little too tightly before Inui’s gaze. Normally Fuji would have taken a seat without bothering to enquire whether Inui objected to the company or not. "Sorry, Inui."
"It’s ok," Inui muttered by way of reply, feeling every bit as awkward as Fuji looked. He dropped his pen on the tabletop with a clatter and ripped the page from his notepad, crumpling it in his hand with intent to drop it into the trash later. "It wasn’t important."
Fuji nodded, glancing around the library. He was looking anywhere but Inui, and Inui was feeling more and more discomfited that he’d gone so heinously wrong as to leave Fuji so unsettled. Surely assuming Fuji had meant doubles didn’t merit such unease between them.
Inui swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Would you like to sit down?"
Fuji nodded again, lowering his bag to the floor and slipping into the seat opposite. He clasped his hands on the table before him, finding his easy smile with more confidence than when he’d been standing.
Inui looked away when he realised he was staring at Fuji’s lips and not meeting Fuji’s gaze. His own mouth had gone quite dry and he felt like he’d always expected to feel before a date, except this wasn’t a date because Fuji was a boy. And besides, if it had been a date, which it wasn’t because it was the library and Fuji was a boy, Fuji would have said so outright with his effortless confidence.
"Inui," Fuji called to him, and Inui turned his head before he could think to prevent himself responding. Fuji was regarding him with an odd earnestness. "Would you like to come round tonight?"
"Come round?" Inui echoed, stumbling over the words though he knew exactly what they meant truly.
"To my house," Fuji clarified, fingers tightening where they were clasped though his smile didn’t waver. "I have shogi."
"I like shogi," Inui confessed, staring at Fuji’s fingers this time. They were long and slender, as he’d already known, but never before had his mind leapt to the idea of Fuji touching him so swiftly. Even as he was thinking up a ‘but’ that might ensure his safety from temptation, his mouth ran ahead of him. "I would like that, to come round."
Fuji relaxed almost instantly, his smile losing an edge that Inui hadn’t realised it had had. "I’ll meet you later then."
**
"Inui," Fuji had said, once Tezuka was out of earshot. "What time do your parents get home?"
That was all it had taken to have Inui’s belly back in knots and a level of unsurpassed anxious anticipation thrumming through him. After that Inui had absorbed as much of Tezuka’s talk as if it had been white noise, his entire focus taken by Fuji. The tilt of Fuji’s head, the line of his neck, his skin when he changed… Inui knew he oughtn’t to have looked, but Fuji had wanted him to and so he had. It had left his clothes feeling uncomfortably restrictive and made him glad that he had changed more quickly himself, keeping him safe from embarrassed exposure.
"Is something wrong?" Fuji had asked when he caught Inui’s discomfort. They’d been left behind alone because everyone else had changed when Inui was tugging Fuji behind the clubhouse. Had Inui not known the true extent of Fuji’s wicked deviousness, he might have thought him pure as the driven snow in that moment, so sweet and caring had he sounded in making the enquiry.
"No," Inui denied, deciding that they would take the bus to his home. It was too far to walk when he hadn’t hit upon the solution to countering Fuji’s teasing.
Fuji didn’t give a proper answer, but he looked doubtful enough that Inui stored it away. He would find a way to take his revenge when they were not in public, because he could not share Fuji’s lack of shame when he was uncertain exactly what he was doing.
"Are you ready?" Inui asked as he zipped up his bag at last. Fuji had distracted his attention and overtaken him without his notice, again. Factoring Fuji into his reactions was going to play havoc with his data.
"Very ready," Fuji promised in a suggestive whisper. It was far too direct for Fuji, so Inui recognised instantly what had to be going on. When he glanced up, it was, therefore, unsurprising to see Tezuka stood in the doorway blushing faintly, again.
Inui chose not to acknowledge Tezuka, because to apologise or blush would make it look like he was ashamed. He wasn’t ashamed; he knew that, he just felt naughty. So instead of addressing his captain, he asked Fuji, "Twice?"
Inui wasn’t sure whether to hope that these incidents ended up affecting Tezuka’s game play as much as they did his own or not. On the one hand, he would rather beat Tezuka at full strength. On the other, it didn’t look like Fuji would be allowing him to play at full strength himself anytime soon.
Fuji shrugged, butter wouldn’t melt, and shouldered his bag. "How was I supposed to know he was there?" Louder, as if Tezuka would have somehow become selectively deaf to their initial exchange, he greeted, "Hello again, Tezuka."
"Fuji," Tezuka managed, not quite so surprised as to have lost his cool again so soon. "I was going to lock up if you’re done."
Inui could have seen what was coming next from miles away and averted his face to conceal his amusement by adjusting his glasses. He respected Tezuka enough that he didn’t wish to make Tezuka think he was laughing at him.
"Oh, Tezuka," said Fuji. "We haven’t even begun."
The only reply, the one Inui had predicted with considerable accuracy, was the sound of Tezuka walking away. Inui thought better of commenting on it to Fuji, simply picking up his bag and leading the way the way out of the clubhouse so that Tezuka could steal back once he knew that Fuji was far away. "I thought we’d get the bus."
"Oh," Fuji exclaimed, sounding dangerously delighted. "The bus!"
Inui glanced at him, fully comprehending that Fuji had something in mind, but, as ever, unable to predict what it might be. He had considered the bus a safer option, one that would convey both Fuji and himself to their destination in the shortest amount of time with minimal exposure to anyone who might happen to spot them. Now he was wondering if he shouldn’t re-evaluate that opinion. On a bus, after all, Fuji would not need to devote any attention to walking.
Inui parted his lips to suggest they walk after all, regardless of how uncomfortable it might end up being for him, but the words never made it past his lips. Deep down, or perhaps even not so deep down, he wanted to see exactly what Fuji was going to do. On the bus, with a camera in the ceiling and strangers taking in their every move. It was quite, quite wrong, and Inui wanted it anyway.
"It’s not a long journey," was what he ended up cautioning instead.
"That’s ok," Fuji said agreeably, bumping his shoulder against Inui’s as they walked.
Inui smiled despite himself, glancing sideways to meet Fuji’s mischievous gaze and shaking his head. He was signing himself up for a world of trouble, but he wasn’t the only one so that was ok. Fuji’s smile was all promise, and it almost made him shiver.
It was only when Inui spotted the bus at the far end of the street that he thought to question who would pay for their fares. Fuji was a boy, after all, not a girl. It was a fact of which Inui was acutely aware. Should Inui pay anyway? Did going to his house in order to make-out actually count as a date?
As the bus came to a halt, Inui decided to take care of it regardless. Fuji was the type to reward such chivalry, maybe, even if he was laughing at it at the same time. "I’ll pay."
"Such a gentleman," Fuji cooed predictably, and slid his arm through Inui’s as they climbed aboard at the back. Inui could feel his face flame, and almost regretted the decision - almost except that the weight of Fuji’s head against his shoulder was really rather pleasant. He reached to snatch two tickets for them quickly so they could sit down.
"What a cute couple," murmured someone behind them. Inui assumed it must be a woman because men simply didn’t say things like that, except when Fuji did.
"We are rather cute, aren’t we, Inui?" Fuji murmured, squeezing his arm and beaming up at him sweetly. Inui could see the amusement sparkling in Fuji’s eyes, and found himself momentarily distracted.
"Excuse me," reminded the same voice gently, and Inui wanted to die. He was stood obstructing the bus aisle, gazing at Fuji like a love-struck fool and everyone was staring at him.
"I apologise," he muttered, on the edge of stammering and hurried Fuji into a seat since Fuji was apparently too busy quaking with giggles against his side to do anything by way of helping him. Fuji seemed to have been doing that a lot recently.
"She is very lovely," the woman said sympathetically, bending down to whisper it in Inui’s ear before she passed by to her own seat. Inui froze in shock as he watched her walk away, a short, plump and kindly looking woman who couldn’t really possibly be joking.
"Inui?" Fuji asked, curious as to why Inui had tensed up no doubt. He’d placed his bag beside the window so that their thighs and sides were pressed together, and Inui was half convinced Fuji had to have heard her and was just teasing him further.
Glancing after the woman, he adjusted his glasses self-consciously before leaning in to bring his mouth close to Fuji’s ear where he mightn’t be overheard by anyone - particularly the lady in question. "She thinks you’re a girl."
Fuji blinked and slid his gaze from the window to Inui’s face looking quite solemn and serious. "You don’t think I’m a girl, do you, Inui?"
Inui stared at him. It was a long moment before he realised Fuji was teasing him this time, and during that moment all Inui could manage to think was ‘I’ve seen you in the showers!’ It was not a thought which was doing anything to help alleviate his blush. "No, Fuji," he said very softly, still so wary of who could be listening. "I don’t think you’re a girl."
"Oh good," Fuji said helpfully. "You might have been a bit surprised."
**
Inui hadn’t been sure what going to Fuji’s to play shogi would involve, but he supposed, strictly speaking, it was a little silly not to expect the involvement of playing shogi. It was simply that it was Fuji, and he’d never ever been able to be certain of anything with Fuji. Still, there they were with a board between them and the game halfway through. Inui found he was enjoying himself immensely between the challenge and the fact it was Fuji.
He’d stopped telling himself that the latter fact shouldn’t matter because it did and denial only complicated everything. For better, or for worse, Inui had a preoccupation with Fuji and he was going to study it and come to understand it one way or another.
Playing with Fuji wasn’t quite how he’d imagined it might be. In Inui’s head, Fuji playing shogi had always involved swift plays. Inui would linger over each move himself, considering each and every possibility - planning. But Fuji would react immediately to the situation, as he did on the tennis courts. In reality Fuji was lingering as much as Inui, only he was doing it in a wholly distracting way that seemed to involve his mouth an incredibly large amount.
For instance, Fuji would need to take a sip from his juice every time it was his turn. It would leave his lips damp and shiny, and after a moment he’d slowly and deliberately lick them clean as Inui tried not to stare. As Fuji considered his move, he’d lightly touch the playing pieces and sometimes linger on one. Inui was sure there was nothing really suggestive about Fuji circling his fingertip atop a shogi piece, but it had made him uncomfortable and restless.
"Is everything ok, Inui?" Fuji asked him. He didn’t look as wicked as he usually did when he was toying with someone; he looked a little uncertain or even hopeful instead. Inui hadn’t thought that anything could make Fuji harder to read than he already was, but something had.
"Fine," Inui answered, then thought better of it. "I might get myself another drink while you decide on your move."
Fuji looked like he might say something, but Inui didn’t pause because he wasn’t sure he trusted himself. This felt like uncharted territory and he was wary of his every move in a way he didn’t like.
The kitchen was much cooler in comparison to Fuji’s room where they’d been playing. Inui wasn’t sure why Fuji needed to have such a large bed. He wasn’t even sure that Fuji’s bed was large, he just knew that he kept staring at it when he wasn’t staring at Fuji.
If Fuji had been a girl, Inui would have been slapped by now; he was certain of that much. Fuji was a boy though, and Inui was coming to realise he liked that a lot.
It was only as Inui reached the sink that he realised he’d stupidly left his glass with Fuji. Footsteps behind him indicated that Fuji had already noticed as much and followed him. All the knots in Inui’s belly twisted oddly, and he wasn’t at all sure how to explain it.
"You don’t seem yourself," Fuji offered, cautiously. He was holding the glass with both hands as if he were trying to keep himself from fidgeting when Inui turned to look at him.
"I don’t feel myself," Inui admitted. He straightened his glasses again, uncomfortable with his admission. He was talking about something he didn’t understand in a place where he wasn’t at ease and with a Fuji he felt he didn’t really know and couldn’t stop obsessing over. "What did you mean?" Inui asked. He didn’t know how to keep playing the game.
"Only that you-" Fuji began, before Inui shook his head to cut him off.
"Not just now," Inui clarified. "When you didn’t mean doubles, what did you mean?"
"Oh, that," Fuji said, and Inui abruptly realised that Fuji had known exactly what he had meant and had been attempting to evade responding to it. He visibly drew himself up in preparation for answering Inui’s question, "I was asking you out."
Inui blinked, "Oh." Then he blinked again, and a smile cracked his confused exterior. All the time Inui had been tying himself in knots, it had been for nothing. He felt like laughing, like he was a little out of control, hysterical was probably the word. "Like on a date?"
"Like on a date," Fuji said. He, too, was smiling now, obviously able to read the cause of Inui’s discomfort as his own success. He moved tentatively closer, and Inui’s heart rate began to speed.
"Well," Inui said, and swallowed roughly when Fuji was suddenly very close and he found he no longer had any words and the urge to laugh uncontrollably had died dry in his mouth. Fuji was close enough to kiss, and that was all the information that his brain was letting through.
"Syuusuke?! Are you here?!"
Inui had never thought he’d see a day when he found Yumiko’s presence unwelcome.
**
A bit surprised, Inui reflected with an amused smirk, was not really how he felt as he lay over Fuji, engaging him in long, lazy kisses less than an hour after they’d left school. It felt surreal, dreamlike, but not surprising, never surprising with Fuji.
The house had been quiet, empty when they had arrived, just as Inui had anticipated. Despite the absence of his parents, however, he had still felt keenly aware of the fact he was doing something very naughty as he led Fuji by the hand up to his bedroom. Their bags and shoes were both discarded by the door, inside Inui’s room where Inui’s parents could not spot them before Inui and Fuji were aware that they’d arrived. For long moments he and Fuji had stood regarding each other with smiles that were full of wicked promise, before abruptly (Inui had no idea who had made the first move), they had come together.
They weren’t terribly good at kissing, yet. In their eagerness they were all bumping teeth and bruised mouths. Inui found kissing with tongue odd and wet, but he thought he could quite like it. Kissing was better when he wasn’t wearing his glasses, too. Inui had liked the way Fuji had paused and looked at him when he’d removed them.
"What?" Inui had asked as Fuji stared, his own eyes riveted to the puffiness of Fuji’s mouth. He was close enough, as they lay on his bed, that wearing his glasses wasn’t really necessary. They were doing a lot more touching than looking anyway - careful caresses, full body presses and tentative exploration that was maddening whether Inui was doing it or receiving it.
"Nothing," Fuji said, smiling widely and licking his lips. He hooked his leg over Inui’s thighs, bringing them ever closer. "Hello."
"Hello," Inui replied, unable to keep from mirroring the smile. He felt daring as he rocked his hips against Fuji’s, but watching Fuji shiver and sigh was ample reward. Fuji’s hand was fisted in Inui’s top, and the material had pulled tighter when Inui moved - it made it all more exciting somehow.
Fuji tugged him down for another kiss, sloppy and more hurried as that secret, yearning neediness began to claim them. Inui could feel that Fuji wanted it as much as he did, and he no longer cared that his parents might be back at any moment - it was too good to stop.
"Like this?" Fuji asked breathlessly, though he showed no sign of objecting to their frantic motions as he held Inui close.
Inui nuzzled Fuji’s cheek, thinking for a moment. He had an idea, a way to drive Fuji a little mad as repayment for all his teasing and unhelpfulness throughout the day. Inui pulled back enough to leave some room between them and moved his hand from Fuji’s hip to rub him through his pants. Fuji’s gasp of surprise was delicious. For once, Inui had taken the initiative and done the unexpected. He felt smug.
"Sadaharu," Fuji moaned, squirming beneath Inui’s touch and tugging Inui’s top even tighter into the ball in his hands. It seemed very Fuji to simply claim the right of Inui’s name without asking, and entirely appropriate in the circumstances. Inui decided he liked the sound.
Unable to help himself, Inui fumbled to undo the fastenings of Fuji’s pants and slide his hand inside. He knew how to do it, he thought - he’d done it himself often enough. Fuji was hot and hard, and it was terribly easy with the knowledge that he was doing exactly what Fuji wanted. Inui felt powerful watching as Fuji’s head fell back against the pillow with his lips parted as he gasped softly. Inui could also better anticipate Fuji’s behaviour in the situation they were in, he was sure; that made him feel powerful, too.
Fuji’s mouth was too tempting for Inui to keep resisting. He covered Fuji’s lips with his own, pretending that the little sounds Fuji was making as he pet him weren’t exciting him as much as they were. They were only noises, he told himself, but Fuji was clutching at him tighter and tighter as he writhed and it was difficult not to get caught up.
"Sadaharu," Fuji said again, voice whispery. He was shuddering and earnest as he broke the kiss to turn his face away. Inui kissed Fuji’s neck as Fuji’s chest heaved and he jerked with the intensity of it all. Inui could feel everything acutely, and felt incredibly needy for it. He almost found himself pushed to the brink alongside Fuji, and had to clench his free hand in a fist as he wiped his fingers heedlessly on his bed covers when Fuji was done.
"Like that," Inui told Fuji when he’d collected himself and could tell Fuji was listening instead of swimming on sensation. He felt smug, too, though he remained keenly aware of his own need as he pressed against Fuji’s side.
"I approve," Fuji purred, looking for all the world like a lazy cat. He was sated, his eyes half closed as he looked at Inui. To Inui, he looked on the edge of sleep and so it was the last thing Inui was expecting when Fuji suddenly sprang at him. With Fuji bearing him down, he toppled onto his back. It knocked his breath from him, the surprise as much as the impact; apparently he couldn't anticipate Fuji as well as he'd thought after all.
"Syuusuke?" Inui asked, his voice low with the weight of wary anticipation. Fuji’s name came to him with unexpected ease, and felt right somehow. Inui liked saying Fuji’s name as much as he liked Fuji saying his.
"Yes?" Fuji asked, his tone all promise as he slid his hand up Inui’s chest. Fuji hadn’t even bothered to fasten his pants. Before Inui had chance to collect himself, Fuji’s hand moved south, freezing Inui’s mouth in a round ‘o’.
"Nothing," Inui said quickly, once he’d swallowed around the lump in his throat, and sank back against his pillow. He was fast coming to understand exactly why Fuji had behaved as he had when Inui had had his hands on him. There was something quite different in it being another person’s hand - in it being Fuji’s hand. Inui finally felt as though that persistent ache that had plagued him as he pet Fuji was being tended. It left him feeling relaxed, even while Fuji stirred his desires into an even greater maelstrom.
"Nothing at all," Inui said again, nestling his head into the cool, cotton pillow. And, at last, it was really the truth.