Notes: An old fic but one which I really liked. 8) Reviews would be nice. People are favouriting fics with zero reviews and that's a bit depressing. --;

Better than a Bandaid

By Miki

An was taken by surprise when Kamio stumbled and fell at the net.

She hesitated for a moment, and his return shot flew straight past her knees, banging into the metal chain fence behind her. The sound of the metal shaking was what startled her from her daze, and she dropped her racquet before running around the net to Kamio.

Had she been Momoshiro, or even Shinji, she might have vaulted the net because it was faster. But she was neither, and it was a bit dramatic to do that anyway.

Her hand was sweaty against the metal pole as she clutched it when she rounded it. She could feel the sweat on her arms and legs and chest, and she panted a little as she lowered herself to her knees.

"Are you okay, Kamio-kun?" she breathed out, the worry evident in the way her voice was more high-pitched than usual.

Her eyes scanned his arms and legs for signs of injuries, but there wasn't anything visible to the naked eye. There was a bruise on his shin, but that had been there for a week and was starting to heal.

"Kamio…" she said again, when he didn't move.

He cracked open an eye. "Hey… An-chan…"

She breathed out in relief and then glared at him. "Don't scare me," she scolded, smacking the side of his face lightly.

"Yes, yes," Kamio muttered, taking a deep breath and pulling himself up onto his elbows. He cringed when the slightly uneven gravel surface seemed to hit a sore spot on his arm.

"Oh," An said suddenly.

Kamio looked at her warily, rubbing at his face where he felt really wet and warm.

"You have a scratch," An said, shaking her head and shuffling a little closer to grasp Kamio's wrist and pull his hand from his face.

"Don't touch it," she warned, as she looked down at his hand.

Kamio's eyes followed her own, and he blinked as he saw smears of blood on his palm and fingers.

(S)

"What's that on your face, Kamio? It looks like a bandaid, but it couldn't be, because it looks funny," Shinji began, clasping Kamio's shoulder to hold him in place as he peered a little closer.

"Oh, it is a bandaid. Maybe you're trying to be like Seigaku's Kikumaru. Are you, Kamio? Because your hair isn't quite the right colour but I suppose that isn't really problem since you could dye it, or maybe you're trying to be like Shishido from Hyoutei, though I don't know why you'd want to be like him since he's so annoying and loud and that Ootori with him is kind of annoying too with his 'ikkyuu nyuu kon' every time he serves the ball, because you'd think he'd get bored of saying the same thing over and over, and you'd think Shishido would get tired of hearing it."

Shinji paused.

Kamio pushed Shinji away and finished changing his shirt, shooting the other boy a look when he got too close again.

"If I had to hear someone say the same thing all the time, I'd want to tell him to be quiet, but maybe Shishido has bad hearing or something. It's an expensive habit too, having a bandaid on your face all the time, and wouldn't you get a funny tan mark? Is it fun having a funny tan mark on your face? Maybe if you keep your bandaid on for another week you can tell me what it's like, Kamio. What do you-"

Kamio smacked his palm into the middle of Shinji's forehead and pushed him away a little when the other boy got close again.

Shinji's fingers came close to touching the bandaid on Kamio's face.

"Don't touch it," Kamio growled.

Shinji blinked.

"Is it a special bandaid Kamio? Because it looks like a normal one to me and it's not a white one like Kikumaru has anyway. How come it's a normal bandaid shape? Kikumaru's one is rectangular and I think he must cut it like that every morning. Do you think he has-"

"Shinji," Kamio interrupted. "We're going to be late."

Shinji looked around them.

Then he sighed.

"Why do people want to look like Kikumaru? So irritating…"

Kamio smacked his hand roughly into Shinji's shoulder and pushed him from the club room.

(S)

"It looks like it's rotting," Shinji declared.

"Being stuck on your face for so long, how could it not rot? Now I'll have to walk around with someone who has something rotten stuck on his face and people will look at us strangely…"

Shinji's mumbles grew quieter as Kamio shot him a look of irritation, but he didn't cease them.

"How annoying…"

Kamio was in the process of sticking it back on his face when Tachibana walked past them.

"You've had that on your face for three days Kamio. Take it off," he ordered.

"There's nothing wrong with it!" Kamio shot back, stubbornly pressing it back down on his skin and trying to smooth it out.

(S)

"It's just a bandaid, Kamio-kun," An said, frowning a little. "I can give you another one."

When she said it like that, Kamio wanted to tell her it wasn't just a bandaid; it was something she'd given to him, but he was sure she'd laugh at him if he did.

He couldn't explain it to her either, because he didn't think she would understand.

"There's nothing wrong with it," he said, and tried to stick it back on his face where one end had almost no glue left.

An looked at him for a moment.

Kamio couldn't quite tell whether she was annoyed or amused.

Then she grasped his hand.

"You look better without it, you know," she muttered. "But I'll give you another one if it means you'll take off this thing…"

Some time between leaving Fudoumine and reaching An's home, An changed her hold on Kamio's hand, and linked their fingers together.

(S)

An watched when Kamio petted the dog on his way into the house, as he always did.

She led him up to her room, and then paused in the doorway.

"Actually, you should probably wash your hands, since you touched Gokutora."

Kamio looked stricken, and An struggled to keep a straight face.

She wondered if he was going to not wash his hand for the rest of the week.

He did though, and An thought she might just laugh at the expression on his face when he came out of the bathroom with semi-dried hands.

She sat him down on her bed and pulled up her desk chair so she could sit closer to him.

She wrinkled her nose at the look of the five-day old bandaid on Kamio's cheek, and grasped the glue-less end that had been flapping around on his cheek every time he ran across the court.

She tugged hard, and the bandaid came off with a yucky sort of sound, leaving Kamio's eyes wide and leaving a bandaid-shaped patch of dirty glue.

"An-chan! That hurt!" Kamio yelled, and An simply shook her head.

"And whose fault is that?"

Kamio turned a bright shade of pink.

"You didn't have to pull it so hard," he protested. "I think you pulled off some skin too, An-chan…"

She hit his hand away lightly when he tried to touch the patch of glue, and went to the bathroom to wet a cloth.

When she returned, Kamio had picked off most of the glue with his fingers where it now stuck.

An sighed and grasped his wrist, cleaning off his fingers before rubbing lightly at his face.

The scratch he'd gotten from falling on the court had almost completely healed.

It hadn't been a deep scratch in the beginning, and now there was a small scab there.

"I don't think you need another bandaid," An said.

"Why not?" Kamio questioned, not caring if An thought he was being silly.

An frowned at him.

"It's better to leave the skin exposed so that it will heal properly."

Kamio looked like he wanted to say something for a moment, but then he simply leaned back on a hand.

"Fine."

An smiled at him, looking back at her, trying to look unimpressed, though he was succeeding in looking more sulky than anything else.

She wondered if he was nervous being in her room like this.

She wondered what he was thinking.

He was probably thinking about her, wasn't he? Then what was he thinking?

She closed the first aid box and flicked the catches closed on it.

Kamio was still watching her, but there was a blush on his face again and his fingers were moving restlessly against her bedspread.

An scooted her chair a few inches closer.

Kamio's eyes followed the movement of her hand as she beckoned to him to sit up straight again.

He did, curiosity on his face until An smiled and leaned in.

She kissed his cheek gently.

Then she pulled back again and stood up, grabbing the first aid box and walking to the door.

"See, Kamio-kun. There are better things than bandaids, don't you think?"

Then she walked out, and once she was in the bathroom where she was sure Kamio wouldn't follow her, she hurriedly put the first aid box away. Then she leaned against the wall; back flat against the cold tiles, and grinned.

(S)

The next afternoon, An dropped by the boys' practice session as they were finishing up.

Kamio saw her first, and grinned.

"An-chan!" he yelled out, running over. "You finished your practice early."

An nodded, and eyed his forehead.

"What's that?" she questioned, pushing aside his hair a little.

"Oh, it's just a scratch," Kamio grinned, looking pleased with himself.

An sighed.

"It's not really a scratch," Shinji said, appearing beside Kamio.

"Actually it wasn't bleeding at all until he stood there and poked it for five minutes, which was pretty inconsiderate considering we were in the middle of a match, and what sort of opponent makes you wait five minutes to serve just because he wants to squeeze a pimple?"

"It's not a pimple!" Kamio snapped, blushing. "It's really a scratch! See?"

Shinji was unconvinced.

"I think it's pretty stupid to want to make yourself look stupid with a weird spot like that on your head, but you know, maybe Kikumaru's changed his bandaid and now he has a spot on his head too, but I still don't know why you want to be-"

Kamio glared at Shinji, who lowered his voice until it was a series of indistinct mutterings under his breath.

An thought Kamio could take a cue from Shinji and say it out loud, for once.

She complained a little when she had to rummage through her bag because Kamio insisted he needed a bandaid right then and he was sure she had one.

But she didn't complain when Kamio later held her hand on the way to the tennis courts, and when she surprised herself by stumbling and falling, jumped over the net and helped her up.

The palm of her hand was grazed and pink, but Kamio pressed his lips to it quickly.

Then, his face looking almost the same shade of red as his hair, he jumped right back over the net.

An smiled as she served the next ball, looking down at her palm where Kamio's lips had touched it.

Kisses were so much better than bandaids.

.fin.