Spoilers: none - Timeline: pre-anything involving the 'scissors incident' - Pairings: Ohtori/Shishido with rather subtle undertones of Atobe/Jiroh and somewhat obvious Oshitari/Gakuto - Warnings: Shounen-ai. English ain't my native language. Fluff. - Length: probably three chapters. Might focus on the other pairs and continue; it depends on you, my dear reviewers. - Rating: K+ (damn, it's Choutarou! I can't do anything bad to him. For now. -evil cackle-)

Notes:

- Until my beloved vol.14 of PoT arrived via mail, I've never noticed how smexy Choutarou was. XD
- I switched from 'sempai' to the correct form 'senpai', no matter the former sounds way better to me. But correct is correct. -sighs-
- Wanted to say thanks to Animesque, for...well ... because ... of ...err... Dream Live 3rd and frogs. XD Mainly the frogs. And for inspiring me to write a ToriShishi. XD

Summary: Ohtori/Shishido ...a rather fluffy story where Choutarou is his usual clueless self and Shishido manages to be really uncool with the Dirty Pair meddling in.

Lavender
Choutarou had enough. He slammed his laptop shut, not even bothering to save the file. No matter what he did, the essay he was desperately trying to finish simply rebelled against him. No matter how many times he tried, how many times he went to fix himself a cup of tea, no matter how many different CDs he tried to listen to, the essay defied him.

So he gave up, which was gravely against his personal policy, and opened the window. It was freezing outside, the late afternoon sun piercingly sharp - the perfect winter weather. The crisp fresh snow was too good to ignore - even the stuck-up Hyoutei boys were knee-deep in the white fluffy material, simply goofing around, getting cold and wet, with red cheeks and runny noses. Choutarou sighed, he had the essay to finish, so no fun in the snow for him until it was done and sent properly to the professor. He already broke his promise not to have any breaks until schoolwork was done, but it wasn't his fault, since it was Shishido-senpai who had invited himself for a lunch earlier. Ohtori watched the fray outside with a wistful smile as he spotted two of his senpais. The taller one was throwing snowballs with unthinkable speed and accuracy, while the smaller, nimble one was dodging them with equally unthinkable acrobatic moves, launching counterstrikes from backflips and other body-wrecking positions. The latter suddenly laughed, covering his rapid approach with a volley of snowballs and launched himself at his classmate, toppling him in the mellow snow with a happy shriek "Yuuuushi!".

Ohtori grinned. It wasn't usual to see the stoic, imposing and dangerous tensai rolling in the snow. According to the muffled screeches, he must have managed to shove a handful of snow under Mukahi-senpai's jacket. Choutarou just shook his head and closed the window.

And then it hit him.

It wasn't any cheap scent you can get anywhere. He highly doubted it was available as a perfume anyway. The thick, heavy scent was filling the entire room, more elusive at some places, laden with musky undertones at others. Choutarou froze - he has been breathing it all the time, his nose unable to detect it before. No wonder he wasn't able to concentrate on a single thing. Not on a single thing beside... It was something that clung to the entire room, to his clothes, even to his own fingers. He sniffed to his hands again, where the scent was definitely the strongest. Ohtori was breathing so eagerly the scent had slowly vanished; he had to draw the air normally to catch the scent again. It wasn't a scent you would expect in an all-boys dormitory, it reminded him of his early childhood, when his father took him to southern France. He clearly remembered the vast fields of small bushes full of little, violet blossoms. He had almost forgotten the scent until recently. The unmistakable scent of raw lavender.

The unmistakable scent of Shishido-san's exclusive hair shampoo.

It was a scent that made Choutarou's smile grow even larger, usually to the point that Shishido gave him his trademark half-smile half-scowl and asked if his brain finally ceased to work. This, coming from Shishido, was actually a compliment. Choutarou prided himself to be of the few who actually understood the fabled Shishido-Speak properly. If you wanted to keep your head where it was, you would describe Shishido Ryou as a very unique person. If you had a lot of bodyguards, money and a Doberman or two, you would say Shishido was a very violent, unstable and spiteful individual. Not in the way Kirihara Akaya was, though. Where Kirihara simply bit your earlobe off (and still claiming it was an accident), Shishido would just smile coldly, shaking his wonderfully shiny waterfall of dark brown hair. And then accidents would start to happen. Though not in the way Atobe shipwrecked his enemies, nor in the way Oshitari glared his enemies almost to death. Shishido would beat you sooner or later, presumably at something you though you were best at. Be that tennis or the vulgar exchanging of physical blows that Ore-sama refused to ever resort to.

Shishido was quite taken aback when the shyly smiling kouhai approached him for the first time. It was probably Choutarou's alarming innocence and naivety that allowed him to ask Shishido if he would like to join for a lunch on the roof since they were teammates. Shocked and truly intrigued, Shishido simply agreed. Since then, hanging out with Choutarou became a habit.

To the point he invaded Ohtori's room anytime he wished, usually carrying snacks or drinks. Or with something equally unimportant to justify his presence in the 2nd year's dorm. He would usually flop down on Choutarou's bed, watching the enormous flatscreen TV, flipping through his magazines and mangas or simply dozing off by the table as Choutarou worked on his laptop. Shishido hated studying; Ohtori's will to study baffled him no end. Sometimes, he would yank the textbook from Choutarou's hands, dragging the squirming kouhai to the ground to play videogames with him. He knew that Ohtori actually wished him to interrupt his tiresome studying as Choutarou knew that it was Shishido-san's irritation rather than a generally bad personality as he looked for a vent to let his frustration out.

It was exactly the same today; before Choutarou managed to even open his textbook, Shishido had barged in, snow falling off his coat. He promptly set the bags full of no doubt unhealthy fast-food snacks on the table and kept Ohtori busy. Both with happy chatter and with amusing rumors that Atobe actually had Jiroh stripped off his shirt in front of the entire class, claiming loudly that Jiroh intentionally switched Ore-sama's expensive silky shirt for his own commoner one, making Ore-sama look like a fool. Akutagawa slept though the entire tirade, finally opening one clouded eye as Atobe tapped his foot at the end of his speech impatiently. He simply yawned, squirmed out of his shirt right where sat, mumbling "S'rry, Keigo. Must've switched them in the dark."

At that point usually polite Choutarou laughed rather loudly, imagining the gaping classroom, the baffled buchou, and the horrified fangirls. Shishido beamed, he just loved to see Choutarou blushing so badly while laughing. To greaten the effect, he added that Hiyoshi was seen sobbing on Taki's shoulder, cursing all that was even remotely reminding him Jiroh. Soon, Ohtori was wailing with laughter. Seeing that Choutarou completely forgot about his essay in the meantime, he shoved a gamepad in his hands, directing the still shaking kouhai towards the TV screen. They played a few games, Shishido leaning quite comfortably on Choutarou's side. He was glad to have such a great friend of Ohtori's height right next to him. It was definitely comfy. He couldn't see the ever-present blush on Ohtori's face with his eyes glued to the screen, not particularly willing to lose to Choutarou in anything.

A while and one attempt at tickling later, the long-haired boy finally noticed Choutarou's stare. Ohtori eyed him carefully, as if actually watching Shishido and stealing glances at the TV screen than the other way around. It was even possible to say Ohtori was quivering. Shishido knew that Choutarou won't make any move until he gave him the go-ahead. He felt ... flattered.

"Go for it, I'm not going to bite you."

It wasn't something you did to your senpai. Definitely not when your senpai was Shishido Ryou.

Choutarou licked his lips and eagerly buried his hands in Shishido's hair.

Shishido never guessed that Choutarou was good at giving head massages. Once, after he took a nap in the middle of watching pre-recorded tennis matches, he had found Choutarou's fingers in his hair. Surprised at how good it felt, he prodded the blushing and stammering kouhai to continue. Choutarou's fingers were way better than any painkillers he could think of, always gently rubbing the headache away. He couldn't quite forget the look on Choutarou's face at that time, for it was the most typical depiction of a kid caught with its hand in a cookie jar.

Unlike Shishido's, Ohtori's own hair was the last thing that needed a comb. It was nothing but a tousled mess of straw blond. But he had one. Everybody at Hyoutei had a comb. For one reason or another; the only person without the aforementioned object was Atobe himself, for he had people with hairbrushes. And probably Akutagawa, who most likely lost his because of his blissful slumber. It was the third most common thing to be found in Hyoutei, right after mountains of money and foul manners.

Ohtori kept one just for Shishido-san. After turning Shishido's hair in a complete mess and Shishido himself in a contentedly humming creature, he needed one to make his senpai presentable to the normal world again.

Choutarou groaned. Remembering the silky smoothness of his senpai's delicious hair certainly wasn't the way to start studying. He collapsed back in his chair, resting his chin on the closed, humming laptop. He was in trouble. Thoughts and ideas were hopping madly in his mind, unfocused, unsorted. Save the thoughts about Shishido-senpai. Those were crystal-clear, warm and definitely enjoyable.

Then Ohtori realized it. It wasn't the lavender that made his head spin. Not just any common lavender. To his utter amazement, it was simply Shishido-san. Nothing more, nothing less.

Choutarou's eyes went wide.

He simply had to tell his senpai about his discovery how wonderful the fragrance was. How well it matched his hair. How it matched him. And everything. And not just the fragrance.

He swiftly snapped his costly cellphone open, happily composing a text message, the essay effectively disappearing from his brain.

Personal disclaimer to prevent nasty misunderstandings: This is a work of fiction. Nothing of this refers to actual people or actions. True, a few parts are based on real events: a) I'm desperately trying to finish an essay, I wrote this instead D: ; b) I had my best friend over for the lunch; c) the said friend sports Shishido's hairstyle to tease me no end; d) asdfgh, oh my, the lavender. So wonderful it kills the brain cells reserved for studying. XD Everything else is nothing but a fiction.

...and now tell me how to switch my brain back to 16th century philosophy. Please! -is desperate- XD

Next chapter will get a lot crackier, mostly because of dear Gakuto. Reviews are madly loved, as well as ideas or suggestions!

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