Summary: Shishido gets heat blisters.
Warnings: sap. Sap sap sap.
Disclaimer: not mine. Duh.
Heat Blisters
by Anria
"Owww."
"It's your own fault, Shishido-senpai," Ohtori told him, sounding far too cheerful as he approached the sofa. "I told you it was going to be hot today."
Shishido sighed and put his arm over his eyes. "Choutarou, telling me it's going to be hot today and telling me it's so hot that walking on the pavement will give me blisters are two different things."
Ohtori just chuckled, pulling Shishido's feet into his lap and pressing the icepack firmly to the ball of one foot. Shishido winced. "Shit, couldn't you be a bit more careful? That thing's freezing!"
"And you have heat blisters on your feet," Ohtori told him. "Cold is what they need."
The two sat together in silence for a time, the only sound coming from the street through the open window and Ohtori's movements as he shifted the icepack around Shishido's feet – and not being too gentle about it, either, which was decidedly odd. The third year peeked out from under his arm at his doubles partner, frowning as he noticed the pinched look around Ohtori's mouth.
"Hey, Choutarou," Shishido said, propping himself up on his elbows to look at the younger boy in concern. "You all right?"
Ohtori gave him a calm, happy, and entirely fake smile. "Of course, Shishido-senpai," he said. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Shishido snorted. "Don't give me that crap," he said. "Something's bugging you. What is it?"
The taller boy's smile faltered in the face of Shishido's glower. Finally, he sighed and dropped his gaze to his hands, absentmindedly adjusting the towel around the icepack.
"What were you thinking, Shishido-senpai?" Ohtori said quietly. "You could feel how hot the pavement was, but you still took your shoes off. You're a dash specialist, how can you expect to play tennis properly if you can't even walk without pain? What if . . . what if. . . ." Ohtori swallowed. "What if Kantoku kicks you off the regulars again because you can't even practise properly, and it's your own fault?"
Shishido rolled his eyes. "Choutarou, you think too much." Ohtori's head jerked up in surprise. "Kantoku is not going to kick me off the regulars because I have a couple of blisters," the dark-haired boy continued, trying to talk some sense into his silly kouhai's head. "Yeah, it was my own fault, but in a couple of days I'll be healed. Worse has happened. Remember when Mukahi dropped a textbook on his foot and was a priss about it in practise for weeks because the nail turned black and fell off? Even Oshitari got annoyed with him, but he's still on the regulars."
Ohtori smiled half-heartedly at the memory. "I know."
Shishido's eyes narrowed. "But. . . ?"
"I still worry, you know?" Ohtori blurted, an unhappy look on his face. "You've already been dropped from the regulars once, and I just. . . ." His voice dropped to an embarrassed murmur. "I just don't want to lose my partner again, that's all."
Shishido couldn't help but grin at that, the hesitant words warming something in his chest. Sitting up, he leant forwards and wrapped an arm around Ohtori's head, ruffling his friend's hair with his other hand. "Silly Choutarou," he said.
"Shishido-sen—"
"You're not gonna lose me, all right?" Shishido interrupted, his voice abruptly serious. Ohtori stared at him, eyes wide, as Shishido hooked a hand around the back of the younger boy's head and pressed their foreheads together. "We're a team. I dunno how you're going to get by next year without me, but next year isn't here yet, and I'll be here all through this year. You got that?"
Ohtori stared for a moment more, then a sweet smile curved his lips. "I got it, Shishido-senpai."
Shishido grinned and released him, flopping back and sticking his feet in Ohtori's lap. "So get with the icepack, slave!"
Ohtori grinned back and reapplied the icepack, much more gentle as he shifted it against his senpai's foot. With his fears appeased – at least for the moment – he looked like there was nothing he would rather be doing than sitting with his friend's feet in his lap, tending to the self-inflicted blisters marring their surface. If it had been left to Shishido, he'd have washed his feet off and then ignored the blisters playing tennis until they burst . . . but there was no way his double partner was going to let him get away that.
Shishido really had no idea how he was going to get by next year without Ohtori Choutarou.
Oh well. It wasn't next year yet.
Warnings: sap. Sap sap sap.
Disclaimer: not mine. Duh.
by Anria
"Owww."
"It's your own fault, Shishido-senpai," Ohtori told him, sounding far too cheerful as he approached the sofa. "I told you it was going to be hot today."
Shishido sighed and put his arm over his eyes. "Choutarou, telling me it's going to be hot today and telling me it's so hot that walking on the pavement will give me blisters are two different things."
Ohtori just chuckled, pulling Shishido's feet into his lap and pressing the icepack firmly to the ball of one foot. Shishido winced. "Shit, couldn't you be a bit more careful? That thing's freezing!"
"And you have heat blisters on your feet," Ohtori told him. "Cold is what they need."
The two sat together in silence for a time, the only sound coming from the street through the open window and Ohtori's movements as he shifted the icepack around Shishido's feet – and not being too gentle about it, either, which was decidedly odd. The third year peeked out from under his arm at his doubles partner, frowning as he noticed the pinched look around Ohtori's mouth.
"Hey, Choutarou," Shishido said, propping himself up on his elbows to look at the younger boy in concern. "You all right?"
Ohtori gave him a calm, happy, and entirely fake smile. "Of course, Shishido-senpai," he said. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Shishido snorted. "Don't give me that crap," he said. "Something's bugging you. What is it?"
The taller boy's smile faltered in the face of Shishido's glower. Finally, he sighed and dropped his gaze to his hands, absentmindedly adjusting the towel around the icepack.
"What were you thinking, Shishido-senpai?" Ohtori said quietly. "You could feel how hot the pavement was, but you still took your shoes off. You're a dash specialist, how can you expect to play tennis properly if you can't even walk without pain? What if . . . what if. . . ." Ohtori swallowed. "What if Kantoku kicks you off the regulars again because you can't even practise properly, and it's your own fault?"
Shishido rolled his eyes. "Choutarou, you think too much." Ohtori's head jerked up in surprise. "Kantoku is not going to kick me off the regulars because I have a couple of blisters," the dark-haired boy continued, trying to talk some sense into his silly kouhai's head. "Yeah, it was my own fault, but in a couple of days I'll be healed. Worse has happened. Remember when Mukahi dropped a textbook on his foot and was a priss about it in practise for weeks because the nail turned black and fell off? Even Oshitari got annoyed with him, but he's still on the regulars."
Ohtori smiled half-heartedly at the memory. "I know."
Shishido's eyes narrowed. "But. . . ?"
"I still worry, you know?" Ohtori blurted, an unhappy look on his face. "You've already been dropped from the regulars once, and I just. . . ." His voice dropped to an embarrassed murmur. "I just don't want to lose my partner again, that's all."
Shishido couldn't help but grin at that, the hesitant words warming something in his chest. Sitting up, he leant forwards and wrapped an arm around Ohtori's head, ruffling his friend's hair with his other hand. "Silly Choutarou," he said.
"Shishido-sen—"
"You're not gonna lose me, all right?" Shishido interrupted, his voice abruptly serious. Ohtori stared at him, eyes wide, as Shishido hooked a hand around the back of the younger boy's head and pressed their foreheads together. "We're a team. I dunno how you're going to get by next year without me, but next year isn't here yet, and I'll be here all through this year. You got that?"
Ohtori stared for a moment more, then a sweet smile curved his lips. "I got it, Shishido-senpai."
Shishido grinned and released him, flopping back and sticking his feet in Ohtori's lap. "So get with the icepack, slave!"
Ohtori grinned back and reapplied the icepack, much more gentle as he shifted it against his senpai's foot. With his fears appeased – at least for the moment – he looked like there was nothing he would rather be doing than sitting with his friend's feet in his lap, tending to the self-inflicted blisters marring their surface. If it had been left to Shishido, he'd have washed his feet off and then ignored the blisters playing tennis until they burst . . . but there was no way his double partner was going to let him get away that.
Shishido really had no idea how he was going to get by next year without Ohtori Choutarou.
Oh well. It wasn't next year yet.