"What's it like, having sex with that guy?" Takao asked, swinging his legs from the locker room bench, looking entirely innocent despite his intensely personal, incredible vulgar question.
Shintarou's shoulders hitched, his locker door slamming shut with shock or irritation. Probably both. Takao had to withhold a laugh; really, Shintarou should know to except questions like this by now.
"Being with who?" Shintarou's voice was muffled as he obstinately remained facing the lockers, making him difficult to hear despite the empty, echoing locker room. Takao's shoes scuffing against the tile was almost deafening.
Takao laughed. With his hawk eye, he could just imagine the blush spreading across Shintarou's face. Like a carrot. "Don't play dumb, Shin-chan. Akashi Seijuurou. The guy we lost to. The one giving you bedroom eyes across the court – you know I see everything on the court, don't you, Shin-chan? Your ex-captain…?" He went on and on, each detail more personal than the last. E
Shintarou's shoulders sagged as he turned and sat beside him, the usual distance despite his agitation. Did Shintarou know how easy he was to read? Takao hoped not. That would take all the fun out of it.
"I don't know what you mean," he said, bending to tie his shoes and hide his reddening face. An open book. It was almost sad.
But then again, Takao liked being able to read Shintarou's every expression; he was a much more honest guy when you learned to read between the lines.
Takao decided to shift gears. He didn't have an Emperor's Eye, but he knew the chances of Shintarou admitting outright were slim; that just wasn't his style. Luckily, he had a plan B.
"Wow, Shin-chan," he said just as Shintarou moved to tie the other shoe, "You sure have been walking stiffly the past few days. Is your back okay? Practice isn't as hard now that the tournament is over. Are you doing some sort of strenuous activity after hours?" With every word, Shintarou's shoulders grew tighter, and his nimble fingers kept fumbling with the shoelaces. To seal the deal, Takao winked.
"Why do you want to know, anyway!" Shintarou's head whipped to face him and, yes, it was just as red as his hawk eye imagined.
Takao laughed again, louder and brasher, holding his stomach and kicking his legs at random. "Aha! I knew it! You and Akashi are having sex!"
"Shit." Shintarou straightened and pushed up his glasses, trying to and mostly succeeding at regaining his composure. The smallest bit of tension left his shoulders. "Why are you even asking?"
Takao grinned and Shintarou sighed. Victory. "Because he's such an intense guy!" He exclaimed, making a large gesture with his arms and nearly knocking Shintarou in the head. "He promised to gouge his eyes out if he lost a game - it's an extracurricular sport, not the mafia!" Although he sure fit the part. Takao supposed that would only make him more fascinating. "A person like that has to be intense. I want to know what it's like."
Takao has seen the scratches on Shintarou's back and the peppering of bruises down his neck he thought he hid so well. None of the team noticed, too focused on their own performance to pay such close attention. But Takao had a careful eye, and Shintarou was always somewhere within his attention and scope of vision. It's what happens when you play together for so long, an awareness of each other strong enough to pull off those crazy stunts during their last match of the season. Even off the court, Takao could never really shake Shintarou from his consciousness. The marks on his body were what caught his interest, and now he was determined to have the whole story, even if he needed to pry in order to get it
"You don't want to know, Takao." Shintarou stood and slung his bag over his shoulder, clearly trying to cut off the conversation.
But Takao wouldn't let him escape, not when he was so close. He remained seated, looking up at Shintarou with game-like intensity. His legs stopped swinging. "But I do want to know. Tell me what it's like." He grinned. "Better yet – why don't you show me?"
