Disclaimer: Do I look like Konomi Takeshi? No? Then I guess I don't own Prince of Tennis.

A/N: This is from the #6 theme the space between dream and reality from the LJ community 30 kisses. I was part of the challenge at one point, doing this exact pairing, but I got so busy that I had to drop it. Now I'm just gonna finish the chart just to finish the chart. Because I love me some HiyoKiri. If I missed code, please tell me. I wrote this in HTML format to make it easier to post to my fic journal.

italics are enunciations and flashbacks. some flashbacks are out of order because I like being backwards.

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU

There are certain aspects of my life where I'm not entirely sure I'm even awake anymore. For instance, this morning. Waking up next to the boy that I've been pining after since the moment I met him, five years ago. This can't possibly be happening. I mean, I've wanted him for so long and then, out of nowhere here he is, naked, and sleeping- with the most content face I'd have ever thought possible on such a hostile boy- in bed with me.

God, please don't let this moment end...

"Piyo?"

"Piyo?" he slurred into my ear and swayed into my arms. He's so light, it's almost like he doesn't eat. "Pi-yooo..." That was almost a whine. Under normal circumstances, I'd think it was cute... but the drunkenness is most definitely and decidedly uncute.

"What, Kirihara?"

I saw the flash of a bright grin before he leaned up and whispered right in my ear, "Let's go to bed."

"...Piyo?"

Oh no, here comes the accusations, the fear, the betrayal. I can see it without even looking; the thick cloud resides above his head like an impending thunderstorm. I can already hear the thunderclap of his feet slamming on the floor as he hurries to get away from the boy he'd always trusted despite the rivalries of our two teams. Here it comes...

"Hiyoshi, say something," I think I hear from right next to me. But I'm sure it's my imagination; there's no way that he'd still talk to me. I'd fucked up big time. "Was it... was it that atrocious, the thought of being with me, that you can't even look at me?"

I've never heard that voice so vulnerable before. What happened to the ever-confident Kirihara Akaya that could scare off a boy his own age just by looking at him? Now I know this is just a dream- a nightmare, even- because the loudmouth, violent child I love is not this capable of vulnerability. Now I know I'm dreaming.

Please, oh dear god, please let me sleep forever because then I know this boy will always be mine.

"Together?" I asked incredulously, trying my damned-well best not to stammer and look like an idiot in front of a boy who was basically stupid at the moment anyway. "Maybe you should get to bed, Kirihara. I'll help you up the stairs. I'm sure buchou won't mind--"

"No, Piyo-butthead. We're going to bed t-ogether," the last word came out as a hiccup and, to be completely honest, I thought it was kinda cute. In a, you know, awkward way; after all, the numbskull I love is drunk at the age of sixteen, but who's judging?

Whoa, wait. Did I just hear him correctly? Did he say we're going to bed together?

"Kirihara..."

But I knew I couldn't keep this up for much longer... Even when drunk he still had my heart on a string.

The sobbing next to me is what pulled me from my reverie. I can't remember a single time when I'd seen this boy- this devil- cry. He's always been the one hurting others; hurting others like me. But I could never recall a specific moment when he was the one getting hurt, neither physically nor mentally. Did I... was I the one that did this?

"Akaya," I whispered, almost shocked at myself. Shouldn't I be the one crying; the one being comforted? "Akaya," I said again and lightly pressed the palm of my hand onto his shoulder. He cringed away and I felt myself flinch. I hadn't been expecting...

"Don't," his voice was laced with utter venom. "Don't touch me," he almost growled. And that was when I realized... this wasn't a dream at all.

"Kirihara, why are you taking off your clothe--" Mmnphrm. Yep, that was the only coherent thought that passed through my mangled brain as this boy pressed his moist lips sloppily to mine. This kiss- if it could actually be called that- is definitely by far the most unattractive kiss I've ever endured in my sixteen years. Well, you know... maybe that's because I've never actually been kissed before. Huh. So much for my first kiss.

With all my will-power possible, I pushed him away and held him at arm's length so he didn't, you know, get the wrong idea or anything. That's the last thing I wanted, my betrothed to think I didn't want him. It's just that, well, he reeked of alcohol and I'm not even sure how it got in his system because all he's been drinking was punch... oh.

Well, that explains why his senpai, Niou- the one that my Shishido-senpai is always ranting about being an asshole- was standing by the punch for so long, holding that mysterious bottle inconspicuously...

Back to the matter at hand.

Kirihara, my Kirihara, is drunk and making grabby hands at me. My Kirihara is trying to force himself on me, why, I do not know. But right now it kinda feels like he can read my mind; like he knows what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling. He can see right through me with his Kryptonite eyes exactly what I feel for him... and oh god, I think I'm giving in.

I can't help myself. I just can't. I'm sorry for taking advantage. I'm sorry for letting my body take over when I know I shouldn't...

I kiss him. I grab fistfuls of his hair, melding his mouth to mine and plunge my tongue right in. I can feel nothing but his soft seaweed curls, taste nothing but his lips, his mouth, and the tinge of alcohol left over from the punch. I've never felt anything more close to Heaven than this. And there's nothing I can do but tug at his Ultraman t-shirt, pull back quickly to wrench it off, and press our lips back together in a kiss more violent than the last.

I tried again. I don't want him to shut me out. "Akaya, please--"

"I said, don't," he spat, and I could see a tint of red in the corner of his eye. "I already know, okay? You don't need to say it." And he got up, just like that, and I was met with the site of his perfect backside as he bent over to grab his underwear and jeans from the floor. I watched with utter regret as he covered himself in the clothing before reaching for his shirt.

And that was where I drew the line. I grasped his wrist in a tight grip before the material on the floor touched his fingers. Giving one sharp tug, he was in my arms on the bed in a heartbeat with my mouth pressed hotly to his, claiming him once again. This time, though, the alcohol was worn off and all I could taste was Akaya.

His response was beautiful. He gasped once our lips touched and I was unintentionally granted access to that warm cavern once again. I made sure to keep my eyes on his. I didn't want to miss this for the world. The light shade of red literally faded and gave way to a bright, vibrant green- the most beautiful color I'd ever seen in my life- before his eyes closed and he just let himself feel.

Slim arms wrapped around my neck and he responded to my kiss, pressing his body to mine. Fingers were in my hair, pulling this way, tugging that way, grasping for dear life. And you know what? I loved the feeling, knowing those were Akaya's fingers tearing me to shreads.

I can't believe I'm here... How buchou roped me into this, I will never know. Oh. Wait. He bribed me, that's right. "That devil kid from Rikkai Dai is going to be there, Hiyoshi," he'd said, completely smug. He knew that the moment he mentioned one of the attendees, I'd be sold. And boy, was he right. Stupid, witty, self-absorbed captain.

"Piyo-chan!"

Well, I didn't even have to look for him at least. "Hey, Kirihara."

He jumped on me, literally jumped on me. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that at this moment. You know, having the boy you love randomly jump on you in the middle of the ballroom- yes, ballroom, because my captain is the richest highschooler known to man- of Atobe Keigo's mansion, with my teammates and rivals all around me, possibly watching, criticizing...

Ah hell, I don't care. Kirihara Akaya has his arms around me, pressed up against me. This is the closest we've ever been to each other.

"Your buchou told me I'd find you here, leaning against this very wall, angsting," he said, with the most carefree grin on his face and my heart stopped. "He said it was very 'imperative that I get over here as soon as possible', at this wall, in this exact spot- man, his Insight thing must really work because he didn't even look at you!- so I can put a stop to the neverending angst and tell you that your secret crush likes you too, or something like that." He looked away awkwardly for a second, like something hurt him, and then turned right back to my shellshocked expression.

He grinned and patted my shoulder. "So, yeah," he concluded, rubbing the bottom of his nose like he always does. God, do I love everything about this boy. And, wait. What the hell is buchou talking about?

"How 'bout some punch?" and just like that, I was dragged towards the punchbowl where I caught a glimpse of silver hair and a wicked smirk. For some reason, my mind is telling me, 'don't drink the punch' and I listen. But it never said anything about not letting Akaya drink it either.

Eventually we had to break for air and let me tell you, a panting half-naked Akaya underneath you is on Hiyoshi Wakashi's Top Ten List of Things That Are Completely and Utterly Beautiful™. I would give anything to relive what happened last night, except this time with one hundred percent sober consent. I want to hear him say he wants me without his words slurring because of the stupid thing that Niou Masaharu did with the punch. I want him begging for me, and I want it every night, because I need this kid to be mine forever without having to worry about the space between dream and reality clouding my vision.

"So who do you like?"

I sighed. This is the fifth time in ten minutes he's asked me this question. I don't even want to know what he'd be like if he consumed hard liquor. "I told you already, it's none of your business, Kirihara."

"C'mooon, Piyo-buttface!" Every time he says my name, it's a different nickname. Where does all this come from? "I walked aaall the way across this giant room to come and tell you that the poor, unfortunate soul you like likes you back! The least you can do is let me know whose soul I just sold for the long trek I made..."

Is it just me or does he get smarter when he's drunk? And by smart I mean witty and sneaky. He's definitely something, this boy that I can't get out of my head. "Why don't you ask Atobe-buchou?" Even though not even his Insight could figure out it's you I have a crush on. Though I'm having my doubts... how else would he know that Akaya being here would get me to come? Either way, buchou would never actually give away information like that. Even he's not that rude.

"Whatever, shroomhead," he muttered boredly and I rolled my eyes. He'd given up, good. "I want more punch!" As if he didn't have enough already. But I'm curious to see where this is going to go. He's getting worse by the minute.

I tuned him out after awhile, and I planned to keep doing that, but after the fifth time I heard 'Piyo' I was going to tell him to shut up. But when 'Pi-yooo' came out of his mouth, I finally answered. And just for the record, 'Let's go to bed' is an awkward statement when it's the boy you're in love with saying it to you.

One day I'll have to remind myself to thank Niou-san one day... but not for a while. Right now I need to show Akaya that what happened last night was not only lust, but love too.

E/N: I'm trying to get back in the writing groove. Constructive criticism is very helpful, and reviews are lovely.