"Losing"


Watching the practice matches between the regulars, Inui held the thermos of his freshly brewed poison. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Inui had expected the outcome of the game. Momo was cheering with excitement (or was that relief?) that he had won the match, therefore sparing himself from the torturous beverage. Fuji, however, seemed nonchalant. He calmly approached Inui with that ever-present smile of his.

"Well, I lost. That's too bad," he commented, accepting a proffered glass of steaming, green muck.

Inui knew he was not imagining things when Fuji's fingers lingered on his much longer than necessary to take the glass from him, and his hand slapped his side as it fell. Inui's eyes started to wander back to the tennis court behind Fuji unbeknownst to anyone who would try to look through his frosted lens but he could nevertheless imagine the scene before him. Fuji would gracefully hold the glass to his lips, slowly parting those soft petals to taste the rim. His head would bend back as the liquid slid down that pale, slim throat his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed every last drop. Inui felt the back of his neck grow hot with sweat.

"Ah, that was good, Inui," Fuji said, his eyes briefly opening. "You outdo yourself every time."

Inui was only vaguely aware of another regular groaning about having to drink his juice, for his own eyes were locked with that icy blue stare. But in a moment, it was gone, and Fuji was simply smiling again. As Fuji left the taller boy, Inui yanked out his notebook. Scribbling nonsensical words to maintain the aura of the watchful and strategic tennis player that he was, he focused intently on the lined paper, trying to erase the image of Fuji practically licking the glass.

"Ii data," he murmured as he continued to write in his beloved notebook.


A/N: I originally wrote this on a challenge....I don't ship Inui/Fuji, I promise. XD (and no offense if you do like that pairing...) Anyway, 'tis a drabble and weird one at that. Hopefully, you enjoyed it.