Title: The Worst
Characters/Pairings: Haruna, Abe (Omake: Haru/Abe)
Rating: First half: PG-13, Second half: R
Warnings: Angst D: (Omake: Mouth Secks)
Disclaimer: If I owned Oofuri I might have had Abe kill Haruna. I don't own it.
Summary: Abe's had enough. He doesn't want to play baseball with Haruna any more.

Abe was so mad. The team was waiting outside for the bus and here he was in the bathroom with the lights turned off, his teeth grinding together, his fingers shaking and turning white as he gripped the sink.

What—what gave that… pitcher the right to just walk off like that? Haruna had abandoned his team—abandoned him—when they had needed him the most! They were losing by five runs, sure, but Haruna—damn it, Haruna hadn't even tried to win it for them! Did he really not care about his team? They could have been in the Kantou Best Eight but Haruna had no control and no will to throw his best. He was so self-centered—

"Ah…" Abe jumped in surprise as the lights flashed on. He recognized that voice and it only served to fuel his anger. His fingers curled and his nails bent against the ceramic sink. The lights flicked off again and Abe used the darkness to hide the swipe at his face with his sleeve. He could hear Haruna shuffle behind him. Abe swore to himself he wouldn't speak one word but then Haruna gave an exasperated sort of sigh and said,

"Is it really something to cry over?"

One second he was facing the mirrored sink. The next—Abe had Haruna pressed against the side wall, his fist curled and twisted into the fabric of Haruna's baseball shirt. No words came out, Abe worked his jaw a few times—he wanted to yell and curse and fucking punch his face in, but his throat closed up and he couldn't speak when Haruna's eyes were that wide and that shocked.

"You—my left arm!" Haruna reached up to grab at Abe's wrist, and Abe could see he had been scared for a second—not scared of him, but scared for his pitching arm. "What if you had caused an injury?"

"Let go." Haruna said, and Abe had never been this seething mad before. He wanted to wrap his hands around Haruna's neck and squeeze but he took a step back and then another when it looked like Haruna might attack him.

This was ridiculous. This wasn't baseball. If Haruna was Abe's ticket to becoming a starter or a new recruit for a nationally ranked team, then Abe didn't want it. He hadn't played a real game of baseball in what felt like years and he knew that now—after this game with which Haruna had proven they weren't a battery—that his worth wouldn't grow here. His potential, just like his admiration for Haruna, would wither and die.

Haruna was speaking to him—yelling at him, really—but Abe didn't care to listen. He turned his back and walked toward the bathroom entrance to go wait with the team.

"You," Abe said when he reached the door, "are the worst."

Omake (alternate ending)

And then Abe walked out, just like Haruna had done to him so many times before. Let him see how it felt. Let him be the one left standing in the cold. Except Abe wouldn't be coming back; he wouldn't return to the next game like Haruna did. He was leaving for good—to find a real team and a real game and a real pitcher—and he wasn't going to return. Ever.

"You," Abe said when he reached the door, "are the worst."

One step from leaving, Abe was tugged back and spun around. Hard.

"Who said you could leave?" Haruna growled. And now it was Abe's turn to find himself pressed into the wall, Haruna's large hands knotted in his hair. "I'm 'the worst', huh?" He jerked Abe's face up.

"Better start living up to my name then."

It was hard to breathe with Haruna's tongue stuck down his throat, but Abe managed to turn his head (after reluctantly playing tonsil hockey) to take several gulps of air. His hands gripped Haruna's strong shoulders and he almost half expected Haruna to raise his head and bark at him to be gentler with his pitching shoulder. But Haruna's lips latched onto his ear, rolling the lobe between his teeth and biting down. Abe shivered and thrust weakly into Haruna's hips.

"If I'm the worst," Haruna breathed lewdly against his ear, "then what does that make you?"

Abe didn't answer—couldn't answer, because Haruna was kissing him again, hot and hard and wet. His tongue curled and slithered along Abe's, his hands smoothing down the back of his jersey and—"Yeah," Haruna whispered. Abe moaned deeply into Haruna's mouth when he felt hands cupping his ass, grinding their hips heavily against each other.

"Mo—Motoki-san…"

"Hm?" Abe almost forgot what he was about to say when Haruna bit down on his neck and licked the harsh red mark.

"There's—ah—someone here!" And just like that, Haruna was a mile away from him, staring wide-eyed at the poor boy standing in the doorway. The kid, fidgeting under Haruna's angry glare, looked like he didn't need to use the toilet anymore.

"Uhm!" The boy squeaked. "S-sorry…?"

"You damn well better be!" Abe felt a little bad for the kid as Haruna ran after him but he was mostly glad to be alone. Lips swollen, clothing askew, and heart pounding painfully against his ribs, Abe really didn't want to be seen right now. But most of all, he was still pissed off about the horrid game.

Haruna was the worst. …But even Abe had to admit Haruna wasn't the worst at kissing.