Title: Overseas
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Character: {Echizen Ryoma|Echizen Ryoga}
Rating: T
Warning(s): Crack, improbable situations, non-canon
Word Count: 1,081 words
Summary: In a world of crazy teammates, forgotten brothers and gambling, where does one obliviously dense boy stand? Off to the side shaking his head in exasperation of course, where else would he be?
The sun was shining and slight occasional breezes were making the tropical heat just bearable; the lawn chair he was currently napping on was comfortable as hell and he had just finished a nice two hour nap. He stretched luxuriously and if he was a cat he'd be purring happily, but he wasn't. A cat, that is.
What could possibly ruin this moment? He turned on his side, wriggling happily, set for another two hour nap. But of course, Fate hated him and decided that his nap was just not important enough. No, he had to deal with a pair of idiots first before anything else. Kami, damn his luck.
Disgustingly happy laughs that came from both his captors shook him out of his post nap happy time; he was promptly hauled up like a sack of whatever the hell you can haul. His wrists were held captive by his bouncy senpai and his ankles were held in a death grip by Momoshiro, that fucking idiot. Ryoma seethed at the manhandling; Jesus, he was twelve and delicate, thank you very much.
"Echizeeen! Stop acting like an old man and act your age!" Momoshiro jeered, swinging his legs lightly.
"Hear! Hear! You're twelve, not twelve hundred!" Kikumaru added, grasping tightly on his rapidly bruising wrists, swinging on sync with Momoshiro.
"Let go of me! I'm not a plaything!" Ryoma countered not at all screeching, because he's Echizen and he doesn't screech.
The duo stopped, seemingly pondering the thought, Ryoma sighed in relief as his world stopped blurring around him. Seriously, they should listen what they were saying before acting or else he was seriously going to punch them in the throat when they're asleep. He was relaxing, God damn it; you can't go around picking up innocent little twelve year old kids and start throwing them around like some kind of possessed swing; it's practically child abuse!
Unfortunately, poor Ryoma never got what he wanted in this all expense paid cruise with the rest of the team and was thrown head first into the pool. But in retrospect, it wasn't all bad, I mean, in the end of the day he still got to play tennis right?
He hoped so, he desperately hoped so for Kikumaru and Momoshiro's future throat health.
"Crap."
"Uh huh."
"The brats are pretty damn good; do you think they'll actually listen to us?"
"Of course not, we'll just have to bend to their every whim and want now."
"What? Really? What happened to the original plan?"
A hint of worry was sprinkled into the man's voice, followed by the sound of a slap of skin against skin and an undignified yelp. Oh fucking hell, his pimp slaps stung like a bitch.
"Moron! That's why we have this shit; to convince them. Fucking idiot." he seethed much like a certain prepubescent on the other side of the ship.
A look of realization took over the other man's face as his companion slapped a hand over his face; may Kami and all other deities help him because if the boss kills him, the idiot is going down with him. Well, at least he had the entire smart and sane team behind him to back him up; he turned and glanced at the green haired male staring intently at the screen showing their targets. He smirked to himself. Trust Ryoga to study the team first; yes, this will go swimmingly.
"What do you think, Ryoga?"
He blanched as a nearly insane feral grin took over his other companion's face, he started giggling and caressing the t.v. screen; dear God, he spoke too soon.
"I think…" he paused looking at the screen again, shaking and sweating in excitement. "That this will be a lot of fun."
Ryoga, face cuddled up to the remote, paused the video and glanced at his also shaking and sweating- for an entirely different reason- teammate; he smiled rather innocently, not knowing it sent chills running marathons up and down the other male's back. Ryoga laughed manically, and turned back to the screen; the paused video being watched showed a perfect still frame of Seigaiku's very own Ochibi, smashing the ball into the opponent's court. Ryoga then proceeded to fawn over the image, cooing at it and asking it if it was hungry.
"Shit, I'm the only sane one left."
Too bad, he rather liked Ryoga.
"Ochibi! I'm sorry! I forgot that you bruise easily! It's just that Ochibi is so small yet tough that Kiku can't remember that you're still human! I think sometimes you're a cat, but then you have no fur so I think to myself, 'No Kiku, cats have fur. Echizen is more like a bald koala'. So you're a bald koala and not human but that doesn't mean I'm not sorry Ochibi! Cause I am!"
Multiple blinks came from the rest of the team as they all stared rather perturbed at the teary Kikumaru.
"Er, you're forgiven?"
It still amazed Ryoma how easily Kikumaru could change moods, it was kind of scary, truth be told.
"Aw! Thank you, Ochibi! Now, let Kiku see how much damage I caused," Kikumaru chirruped, grabbing hold of dramatically bandage covered wrists, delicately unwrapping the gauze.
The sight was not a pleasant one, the thin wrists had clearly marked finger shaped bruises that matched Kikumaru's appendages almost identically, they were purpling and slightly swollen making the acrobatic tennis player feel sick with guilt. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes and he turned woeful puppy dog eyes towards the youngest of the team, ready to grovel his sin away.
Before that could even happen, the slighter boy shushed him with a raised hand, a finger to his lips. He really had to shut Kikumaru up before he's start rambling and referring to himself in the third person again. That was just too painful to go through again.
"I'm fine," Ryoma replied, rolling his eyes. "Kikumaru-senpai, this happens all the time, it's not like it hurts or anything."
Okay, so that was a complete lie, but he didn't want a crying episode that would probably cause him even more pain. And of course no one wanted that, a hurt Ochibi was a pissy Ochibi. Lord knows what will happen at that point.
"B-but!"
Ryoma gave a disgruntled growl wrenching his wrist away and trying in no apparent luck to rewrap the bruises.
"Can't we just play tennis now?" he asked boredom and indifference slathering his tone unhealthily.
A/N:
Why hallo there. This is a pretty old fic of mine. Really cracky when it wasn't supposed to be. My thirteen year old self was convinced that this was literary gold. I really need to build a time machine and bitch slap myself a couple times. Just saying.
Anywho, this is crack now. YAY. I don't know exactly what I'm going to do with this but something will happen. Yeah.
R&R? THANK YOU~.
M