Disclaimer: Don't own, now let me sulk over that in peace
Warnings: OOC-ness, Slash, boys kissing and doing, eh, some more stuff.
Pairing: Sengoku/Muromachi

This is my first PoT-fic so please don't hate on me. Spelling and grammar errors are to be expected, I'm still human

Mysteries fascinated him. The way to solve a mystery was sometimes more interesting then the result, because when you had the result, there was nothing left to solve and you might as well let your mind go back to tennis practise. Okay, so working on his tennis skills wasn't a bad thing but he did actually have a life outside tennis, thank you very much.

Solving mysteries happened to be one of the things, but even those became boring and predictable after a while. He read quite a few books but lost interest when he found out that he, at least halfway the book, already knew who was the bad guy. Well, half the time he figured it out but he was pretty sure that some of the times it was just luck that he guessed correctly. Whatever the reason, the book became predictable and he had to go days without mysteries before finding something else to read.

On one of those dull days Sengoku discovered a new type of mysteries; the ones in your every day life. Like, how many members of the tennis club will Dan save from his favourite senpai's wrath this practice, or how many sarcastic remarks will Nitobe manage before getting 10 to 20 laps around the court.

There was always also the classical one: how long will it be before Jimi's become aware of that almost everyone in the tennis club knows that they're more then just friends, team mates and doubles partners?

Almost everyone did know, Dan being an exception. The kid wasn't stupid, but he just didn't look for some things and thus didn't see them. Puberty would change that sooner or later, most likely. He also wasn't quite sure if Akutsu knew or not. The grey-haired boy didn't show any sign of knowing it, but that might as well been because he didn't care, not because he didn't know.

Ah, speaking of the devil and that quite literally. Sengoku focused his eyes as Akutsu was currently closing in on a terrified club member, his pink tennis racket held high. Judging by the fact that he hadn't actually punched the trembling boy yet, Sengoku was rather certain that Akutsu wasn't actually as angry as he let on. Still, it was probably for the best that Dan came stumbling to the scene exclaiming that it wasn't good to hit someone, desu. It could harm the racket too, desu!

Sengoku chuckled quietly to himself and shook his head amused while almost absently hitting the ball headed his way, returning it to the other side of the court in the opposite corner of where his opponent currently was.

"Sengoku-san, I know I'm not as good as you but can't you at least pretend to be interested in our game?" Muromachi's irritated question came right after Sengoku had nailed yet another point without really paying attention to anything else then Yamabuki's doubles 2, who were currently getting a reprimand from their buchou.

"Ah, gomen Muromachi-kun, I got a bit distracted." Sengoku scratched his head sheepishly and returned his focus to their practise.

The score was 1 games to 4 right now and Sengoku was winning, of course, but the strategist had managed to get the best of him a few times. Ironically enough, Sengoku had also missed two returns only because he was blinded by the sudden sunlight as the sun sneaked out from behind a set of clouds. Muromachi had no such problem since he as always worse those silver framed glasses.

Ah, and those glasses were the origin of another mystery, one that had been distracting him for quit a while now: what colour were Muromachi's eyes?

He'd never seen the other boy without them; he had them at their club practise, in class, at lunch and even while sitting in front of his beloved computer. Sengoku believed, and would do so until it was proven otherwise, that the other boy even slept with those glasses on.

His horoscope had told that he would do new discoveries today, in himself or someone else and he was looking forward to it. Even thought as he was distracted by this mystery, he paid enough attention to their game so not to annoy the team's strategist further. Judging by the other's body language, the other boy knew that he still was distracted but chose not to comment it.

The match ended in 6 games to 2 as Sengoku sent the last tennis ball onto the court just out of Muromachi's reach. The orange-haired leisurely

walked to the net and held out his hand for the other to take.

"Nice game", Sengoku said smiling while shaking the other's hand. The hand was slightly smaller then his own and it was rather nice to hold on to.

"Really? I didn't think you were focused enough to notice", Muromachi retorted, but his smile sort of cancelled the sarcasm he sent through his voice.

They stood in silence while the sound of people still practising tennis surrounded them.

"Sengoku-san."

"Yes?"

"Can I have my hand back now?"

"Hm, I don't know, I rather like it."

Sengoku brought his other hand down and petted the hand that was currently resting in his own right one. He raised one eyebrow when the hand trembled slightly before lying motionless, but didn't comment the reaction. Giving it a last pet he finally released the captured hand, which was jerked back almost violently. Before the third year had time to do anything else then look puzzled, the younger boy had excused himself and had already moved to the other side of the area, standing next to Yamabuki's doubles one.

30 minutes later, just a few minutes before practice would end, Sengoku still had the event fresh in his memory but a new, sly smile playing at his lips. He had let his brain replay the closer meeting with his kouhai so many times that he not only knew it by heart, but also almost certainly knew the reason behind it. Why their strategist had reacted the way he did.

He wasn't 100 sure of his answer, but looked forward to testing his theory.

"Sengoku-senpai!"

The sound of his name startled him as he suddenly found himself face to face, or chest to face, with the enthusiastic Dan who apparently had been waving his hand in front of Sengoku's face the last few seconds. He hadn't really noticed.

"Ah, Dan-kun. What it is?" He returned to his more pleasant smile at the sight of the team's manager.

"Sengoku-senpai, practice has ended desu! You even missed buchou's speech for today desu!" Dan exclaimed while jumping up and down on his spot. Really, there was a thing called being too enthusiastic. Sengoku put his hand on the smaller boy's head and carefully but surely pushed down, stilling his movements.

"Oh, so that's why it was so quiet... Still, I'm sure Minami will be nice enough to repeat his speech tomorrow with a few extra laps, it's nothing to worry about. We better get changed and get home now then, eh?"

"Hai desu!" Dan turned around with the hand still on his had, getting his black hair ruffled in the process. He escaped the hand by crutching not a second later and made a dash back towards the changing room, leaving the older student standing alone a few moments more, chuckling to himself. Sengoku made his way in the same direction in a much slower pace, all the while shaking his head amused at the other's antics.

He had decided to delay his leaving and had used an excuse that rabid fangirls had been hanging around him all day, armed with their fearful cameras. The team sent him strange looks but had long since given up in trying to understand him on what they called "one of those days". Sengoku himself wasn't quite sure what they were referring to, but nodded happily and agreed anyway.

Stretching his long legs on the bench and tried to return to his book again. It had been part of his cover, looking like he was settling himself for quite some wait but he had actually intended to get some reading done. It was, after all, a new detective novel he had yet to figure out the mystery in.

He had however found himself unable to concentrate, both his thoughts and the sound of the shower running distracting him. Before today he hadn't bother to notice that Muromachi had the habit of being the last one out. By now, everyone else had said his or her goodbyes and left.

Sengoku's head automatically turned towards the door as a slight creaking sound was heard from it. His eyes quickly turned from the door itself to the person who had emerged from the showers.

Muromachi Touji entered the changing room while finishing off the process of drying his short black hair with a small towel. He was currently dressed in only a larger towel around his waist.

Then the strategist had finished with his hair and lowered that small towel…

Sengoku was never really able to hold back a snicker, let alone the full-size laugh that escaped him at the familiar sight of glasses in the other's face. His actions earned him nasty glares from his irritated kouhai.

"Sengoku-san, why are you still here and what is so damn funny?" Touji demanded, confused and more then just a little annoyed. Since his senpai was to busy chuckling at a private joke of his, Touji ignored him to make his way across the room to his locker.

A hand suddenly caught his wrist, causing him to jump a little in surprise; he hadn't even heard the other one rising from his seat.

"I'm sorry Muromachi-kun, it's just a musing of mine that turned out to be correct and quite entertainingly so." Sengoku had finally stopped laughing but still had a wide smile on his face.

"You're not planning to tell me what is was, are you Sengoku-san?"

"Ah, no. Not yet anyway." Sengoku winked at him, making Touji blink. It was about then he realised that the other had yet let go of his wrist. The whole scenario was rather familiar.

"Please don't tell me you're going to keep my whole arm this time." It came out more of a whining that he'd like but his frustration levels just rose automatically whenever his senpai was around. He made no move to retrieve him captured body part this time thought and averted his eyes to the floor, trying to ignore the current tingling sensation in his arm.

"Actually, I do like it," Sengoku said while nodding quite enthusiastically "but it wasn't all I wanted to keep."

Touji's eyes snapped up at the last part and he was taken aback by the changes in the other's face. The carefree smile had been lowered several degrees to a sly one and those turquoise eyes were eyeing him almost... hungrily? Now he was confused and nervous as hell.

He took an involuntary step back when the other boy leaned in, neither of them breaking eye contact, and hissed in surprised as his bare back met a cold locker just behind him. The older boy was still holding him and closing in even more, giving him no room to move. Touji wasn't sure he would have moved if he could anyway; the goose bumps on his arms were not only a reaction from the coldness.

Sengoku didn't stop moving until their faces was only an inch apart, so close that Touji could feel the other's breath on his skin. The older boy studied his face for what seemed like a decade before apparently finding what he was looking for. The smile on that face curled slightly and the eyes slipped shut as the mouth closed the last remaining distance between them.

He really should have been able to anticipate the outcome from when his senpai had started leaning closer, but his brain had shut down while he was drowning in those eyes. Shock hadn't worn down yet, but his body recovered faster then his brain and opened his mouth as Sengoku's tongue was licking on his lips, begging for entrance.

Finding no way to understand or explain the situation, and having no desire to do so anyway, Touji let his brain shut down and instead concentrated on responding to that talented tongue that was currently playing in his mouth. Two arms sneaked around his waist as the other sought to deepen the kiss further and the younger boy quickly responded by wrapping his own arms around the other's shoulder, one hand going up to run through that orange tussled hair.

It was the longest minutes Touji had ever experienced yet he never wanted it to end. Their bodies complained about lack of breath too soon, forcing them to pull apart, but not to far away from each other. He took a few shake breaths and quickly gave up on trying to lower his heart rate; it just wasn't worth it.

After they had managed a few mouthfuls of air, Sengoku decided that they had enough and attacked the other's mouth again while letting his fingers slide gracefully on the other's body. He was delighted in hearing the younger boy moans as his fingertips just danced over the sensitive skin on the other's naked chest. The reactions where even better then he had expected but he wasn't quite satisfied with their position yet.

Sengoku detached himself from those addicting lips again and couldn't help the smile that crept up at hearing the other's disappointed groan. He put his finger on the younger boy's lips in a silencing gesture and hauled him up from the almost crutched position they had ended in. The other's movements where sluggish but Sengoku had to admit to himself that he wasn't must better off. Therefore he moved them both towards the bench he had occupied himself only minutes before.

With a few gentle manoeuvres they both soon sat with one leg on either side of the bench, once again in a lip-lock. Sengoku took advantage of his larger body stature and lower them both down until the smaller boy's best rested against the bench. Ending their kiss with a last lick of lips, he then drew back a few inches to fully study the other.

He could see for sure that the other boy was flustered this time, even with the tan. That tanned chest rose and fell quickly as the lungs desperately tried to supply the body with oxygen. The breathing pattern slowly calmed down while Sengoku was watching intently. He watched the other take a few deep breaths before attempting to rise up from his position, still lying down, but Sengoku stopped him with placing a hand on the chest and gently pushing the other down.

"There's just something I want to do…" The orange haired boy whispered. To whom it was meant to, he didn't know; maybe himself or to the flustered boy beneath him.

Taking a deep breath, almost steeling himself, Sengoku brought up both his hands and let them fell on either side of Touji's face, lingering on where those silver glasses lay on the other's ears. He vaguely noticed that his own hands were trembling as he took a hold and tenderly lifted those glasses.

Sengoku watched as the other quickly brought up an arm to shield his eyes from the light. If Touji hadn't want him to remove the glasses he would have done something before, the older boy knew; it was merely an reaction similar to someone being in a dark room for too long and suddenly switching on the lights.

He couldn't help but stare as the arm was lowered, only to realise that the other had his eyes closed. They soon opened; first squinting before getting used enough to the light to have them fully opened.

Sengoku stared mesmerized at the eyes below all the while understanding the other's reason of wearing those glasses in the first place. It had to be hard to appear calm and collected when your eyes expressed your inner feelings far too well. The eyes were clouded over and he could clearly see the excitement in them. He knew now that the other boy was enjoying this just as much as he was, if not more, but he also saw nervousness and an perhaps just a little fear in those depths. Reading those eyes was like reading a book, even if some pages still was hidden.

"Beautiful." The whispered word slipped from his lips before he was aware that he had thought it. He paused slightly again, considering his own words before smiling slightly.

"Beautiful." He repeated, this time with voice filled with much more conviction and lowered the hand still holding the glasses to the floor, carefully placing them below the bench and out of harms way.

Sengoku bent down for a reassuring kiss to help settle those fears before moving his lips to attack the other's neck, earning himself a gasp followed by groaning. The smaller boy yelped as he let his hand sneak in below the towel, but didn't fight it, only responded more eagerly to the caresses.

The towel began a pile on the otherwise empty floor and was soon joined by Sengoku's own clothing.

He might have reached the end of the mystery and obtained the answer he sought for, but the road hadn't ended yet and he looked forward to see where it would lead.