Disclaimer: PoT's not mine. That's what I told the officer and that's what I'm telling you!

Warnings: Shounen-ai, cutesy-schtuff, inappropriate posting season, possible OOCness?

Author's Note: This idea struck me late one cold January night. Thankfully, at the time, I had a pencil and piece of paper at hand; otherwise I'd have taken to jotting down my idea on the adjacent wall. Started with inspiration from the snow, finished with certain people -- who continually pester me about writing -- in mind.

External Pressure
By: confabulation
Snow held a quality so beautiful in a way unlike any other. It fell from the sky in gentle and dizzying spirals -- pristine, white. A world, so polluted and scarred, war-torn and desolate, was momentarily forgotten – and once again, was beautiful.

Strangely, snow irrevocably spoke of happiness. It brought images to mind of holiday cheer, of cancelled classes and of shrieks of laughter in the midst of snowball fights.

But snow was also very, very cold.

Ryoma tugged his coat closely around his body, burrowing further into his scarf. The brisk January air nipped mercilessly at his skin and for the umpteenth time, he shivered unconsciously.

Moments before, he had been appreciating the finer aspects of his school's heating system. The rest of his classmates, meanwhile, were idiotically pressing their faces against the window, excited plans of sledding and skating buzzing through the air.

Ryoma, however, had shared none of their enthusiasm. Snow didn't exactly provide the most optimal of conditions to play tennis in.

At the moment, he just wanted to be warm, preferably curled up beneath the covers with Karupin warming his belly, or relaxing in the heat of one of Japan's famous hot springs, eyes slipping closed in contentment as wispy tendrils of steam licked lazily at his skin.

The last time he had gone to a hot spring had been with the Seigaku tennis team. Memories of drinking Inui's concoctions had left the majority opting for an activity where even Inui couldn't devise a way to poison them all.

"How about a trip to an onsen, then?" Ryoma glanced up at his boyfriend's suggestion, eyes narrowed in surprise.

"Fuji! That's a great idea, nya! But how are we going to stop Inui from bringing one of his weird juices?"

Momo smirked. "Are you kidding? With the Mamushi in a towel-"

"Shut up, idiot!"

"Who are you calling an idiot?"

"Saa…this is going to be fun."

Fuji had smiled at him then, as Momo and Kaidoh attempted to kill each other in the background, and it wasn't until later on, when he had been cornered in a secluded spring by the smiling tennis prodigy that he knew exactly why. Ryoma flushed at the memory of moist, heated skin pressed together and Fuji's tongue running along-

A sudden gust of wind blew by, and Ryoma blinked, embarrassed, as his teeth went chattering along with it.

He scowled and continued to trudge through the snow.

At least he tried to. It was surprisingly hard to move when one suddenly found himself lying flat on his back, sat upon by a boy who despite not looking it, weighed quite a bit.

Being pounced upon in public was scarring enough, but having cold, wet snow start to seep through your clothes as a result awakened a familiar urge in Ryoma – an urge that spoke volumes of throttling boyfriends and decapitating cacti.

"Let me up, Fuji-senpai."

"But I like you on your back." Fuji grinned, tapping a finger against cold-chapped lips in thought. "Though now that you mention it, I do enjoy seeing you bent over-"

Ryoma started counting backwards, slowly in his head…

"- a desk, and pressed against the-"

…reminding himself that even if he could hide the body, explaining the prodigy's disappearance would still prove an even more difficult, if not impossible, task.

"-wall, and oh, I just can't decide-"

"Syuusuke!" Ryoma leveled Fuji with a glare that had once made even Inui keel over (whether or not he had actually fainted from that or the noxious fumes rising from his pitcher of a new revisted version of Aozu was an issue still up for debate).

Fuji blinked down at him, unaffected, as if just realizing he was sitting on his boyfriend. "Yes, Ryoma?" The smile on his face was wide, bright – impossibly bright. He hated the snow; it always made things unbearably brighter.

"Why are you sitting on me?" Ryoma squirmed, twisting left and right in an attempt to wriggle out from underneath Fuji.

"I'm keeping you warm."

Ryoma stilled. His movements hampered by shock, of course, and nothing else -- especially not Fuji's freakishly strong hold on him. Burnished gold that normally reflected indifference now narrowed in disbelief. "You're what?"

"Well, you looked so cold walking home in the snow that I thought you might need to warm up a little," Fuji pressed closer against the boy beneath him, and indeed, Ryoma was beginning to feel a warmth spreading across his front, warring uncomfortably against the chill creeping up his back and undeniably pooling in his stomach.

But that was beside the point.

He willed away any unwanted reactions to his current position (because despite the hefty amount of layers both were wearing, Fuji would be able to tell instantly if he were starting to get a little more…happy than he was letting on) before snarling.

"Fuji-senpai, I'm currently losing body heat to this godforsaken frozen ground beneath me, and you," he gesticulated angrily at Fuji with his chin, as both arms were still pinned conveniently by his side, "keeping me from moving is not helping matters."

"Saa…you're absolutely right, Ryoma," Fuji whispered, and right then, Ryoma felt a jolt of panic coursing through his nervous system because Fuij's eyes were open, glinting and he was leaning closer and closer and Ryoma could feel his breath ghosting across his cheek and suddenly something brushed briefly across his lips and all he could do was close his eyes because even chapped, Fuji's lips were remarkably soft.

He didn't even realize he hadn't attempted to kiss the other boy back until he opened his eyes a second later and saw Fuji was grinning down at him. The older boy pressed the back of his hand against Ryoma's cheek, cool skin kissing flushed.

"It seems like you've warmed up considerably," Fuji smirked, before pulling away. He got up, brushing the snow from where it clung to his pants before extending a mitten-clad hand towards Ryoma. "Let's get you home now."

Ryoma grasped the hand reluctantly and hoisted himself up, a dark scowl now seemingly permanently etched onto his face.

"I hate you, Fuji-senpai."

Fuji patted him on the head. "I love you, too, Ryoma-kun." He chuckled to himself, "Even if you do kiss like a dead fish."

And despite the vengeance with which he began packing a snowball to be hurled at his boyfriend, Ryoma couldn't help the traitorous thought that waved from inside his head.

Maybe snow wasn't so bad after all.

FIN

Date completed: 07/17/05

Reviews and constructive criticism welcomed