Fandom: Tenipuri
Pairing: Inui/Renji
Title: Bookends
Line: Inui knew that with a seventy two percent probability that his careful lean into his childhood teammate would be reciprocated with a closed eyed smile and possibly the slightest brush of fingertips (the latter boosting the percentages by eleven points); this chance is what drove him to ride the crowded train once more, tennis bag digging painfully into his shoulders.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, I no more than a humble fan.
Notes: Story I wrote for a challenge a long time ago on LiveJournal in 2004.
Inui always found it amusing how far people would go to obtain a sense of familiarity. He found it even more amusing that he happened to turn out to be one of those people who did so. He knew as the creak of the boosting step to get on the train reached his ears that his feet had lead them there in hopes to see a familiar face. With a quick calculation he also knew that there was a sixty percent chance that that familiar face would be in the crowd of those who scurried on and off of the train, a face tucked away while still staying in plain view.
Sure enough, his eyes landed on the features of what was once his doubles partner, finding him in the large crowd with such ease that it was as if his eyes were drawn directly to that one person. Inui pushed through the bodies, his hand gripping tightly onto the tennis bag that currently rested on his shoulder, all other faces seeming to fade into the background, becoming featureless creatures, making his way across the train much more annoying than it had to be. Then he stood before Renji, surprised that there was no feeling of uneasiness or awkwardness welling up inside of his chest, for the numbers quickly flew through his head and Inui had been sure that there was an eighty three percent chance that next time they met wouldn't be pleasant. But while looking at the composed features of the male in front of him made Inui feel as if this encounter could be nothing but. Pleasant, that is.
"Renji," he greeted, something short and simple, familiar but detached.
There wasn't even a turn of a head in acknowledgement, but really, there was no need for it anyways. There was only the simple return, "Sadaharu."
"Mind if I sit here?"
A tilt of a head upward and a closed eyed smile. "Not at all."
He sat, the tennis bag sitting awkwardly against his back. He didn't mind enough to bother moving it to a more comfortable position. For a moment, Inui pondered whether or not he should strike up a conversation. There was a lot they had to talk about, goals, ambitions, tennis matches, what had gone on in the years they had been apart, but no, none of it seemed to be all that important presently. Instead, he leaned the slightest bit into Renji. The back of their hands pressed together, eliciting the slightly of contacts because of the way Inui had sat down, and their shoulders were barely making contact, but it was enough to make it obvious that it was intentional.
Inui knew that with a seventy two percent probability that his careful lean into his childhood teammate would be reciprocated with a closed eyed smile and possibly the slightest brush of fingertips (the latter boosting the percentages by eleven points); this chance is what drove him to ride the crowded train once more, tennis bag digging painfully into his shoulders. And as he felt the gentle brush of fingertips against the back of his hand and a gentle leaning to subtle for onlookers to know of but enough for Inui to feel, he knew that it had been a chance worth taking.