Rating: PG-13 for Shishido's dirty mouth
Summary: Times up for Ohtori to confess.
Disclaimer: The Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi. I'm just playing with his characters.
It hadn't been a conscious decision, but being here now, it was definitely the most fitting way to say goodbye. An empty court in the twilight, bathed in synthetic light, and the hard thwack of a tennis ball against strings. Shishido is all hard edges and bitter fight on the other side of the net, returning each ball with the ferocity Ohtori has long relied on. They rally desperately, extending the last game, keeping the ball in play far longer than it should be.
Tomorrow morning Shishido leaves for his first year at university.
Even so, Ohtori is steadily reeling in the last point of this game. He watches his senpai, his partner, his best friend skittering across the court and feels ill. For weeks or months or years now Ohtori has been watching, waiting for the right moment. The exact, perfect moment to tell Shishido about the embarrassing hero worship turned innocent childhood crush turned hopeless, helpless love. Only… the perfect moment had never announced itself and now Ohtori is staring down his last chance.
His volley is just about perfect and Shishido hardly bothers to try running it down. The ball lands in Shishido's court and signals the end. Game, Ohtori. They take a few seconds to catch their breaths, bent at the waist and panting at the ground.
If he wants to tell Shishido, he's got to do it now. Ohtori has promised to visit once Shishido is settled and Shishido has sworn up and down that he'll come home to hang out when he can, but Ohtori has an older sister and he knows what happens when people go off to university. Admitting the truth may ruin their friendship, but Ohtori isn't a coward. He'd never forgive himself for letting Shishido walk away without knowing the truth. The "what if" would kill him, so he can risk the last few minutes of their friendship. Everything is changing, one way or another.
A warm, breathless laugh breaks the stillness, and Ohtori looks across the net. Shishido is standing with his racket against his shoulder, half cocked grin turned his way. Ohtori's lips twist into an answering smile, even while his stomach roils with anxiety.
"Damn, Choutarou. It's no wonder we always crushed our opponents. Could you hit the ball any harder?" Ohtori straightens up, pressing his face into a mask of innocent confusion.
"What do you mean, Shishido-san? I was just hitting the ball normally," Ohtori says with manufactured uncertainty.
"Oi, don't get cute with me," Shishido growls. He smiles unabashedly and points at Ohtori with his racket. "If you swung that racket any harder it would probably snap in half. I felt like my arms were going to fall off every time I returned a ball."
Shishido walks to the net, free hand offered up for a shake. Ohtori nonchalantly sets his racket on the ground and moves up to take up Shishido's hand. His fingers close around Shishido's smaller hand loosely, and it's a one-two-three pump hand shake.
"Good game, Choutarou," Shishido says lowly. Ohtori's stomach flips and his heart breaks into a gallop. As Shishido moves to pull his hand free, Ohtori tightens his grip. Shishido looks up at him, eyes narrowed, brows lowered, mouth working. It's an expression of confusion with a side helping of impending anger. Ohtori feels a bit light headed and a lot terrified, but he's going to do this and quickly. "Short and to the point" was made for Shishido, so Ohtori wastes no time.
His free hand settles along the sharp line of Shishido's jaw, tipping it up just slightly. Ohtori feels Shishido try to pull his hand free, but it's a half assed gesture. If Shishido were really to struggle, Ohtori'd let go. Shishido is making confused noises, and the flush of exertion across his cheeks is growing darker as he blushes. Ohtori closes his eyes and presses the lightest of kisses to Shishido's lips. It's over in seconds. Ohtori stands straight, hand falling from Shishido's jaw, eyes open. This time when Shishido jerks his hand back, Ohtori lets go. He grits his teeth and awaits the inevitable fallout.
Shishido is spluttering, starting words but never finishing them. He's red from hairline to shirt collar, and his expression is thunderous. His feet haven't moved though. That, at least, calms some of Ohtori's nerves. If Shishido isn't going anywhere, then things aren't completely ruined yet. Ohtori waits patiently, even as his insides twist with unease, as Shishido starts to calm down, silencing his stuttered exclamations. His expression is dark, still, but his gaze is turned inward. Finally he makes a sound, some combination of sigh and frustrated growl.
"What the hell was that, Choutarou?"
"I tried to find a good time to tell you," Ohtori starts, uncomfortable, "but it was never right and tomorrow you're leaving and I…"
"And you what?" Shishido's voice is sharp and impatient, but he doesn't sound angry. Tense and maybe a bit upset, but not angry.
"I just didn't want you to leave without knowing," Ohtori says quietly. Shishido grunts, a rough, disgusted sound, and rolls his eyes.
"You're a pain in the ass, Choutarou." Shishido reaches up, snatching the front of Ohtori's shirt and pulling him down. Their lips meet in a quick, harsh kiss that ends before it really begins. Shishido tightens his grip on Ohtori's shirt and stares at him.
"I've been waiting around, hoping you'd catch on forever and you don't have the balls to say anything until now?" Ohtori rears up, indignant.
"If you were waiting for so long, you could have said something. It didn't have to be me." Shishido makes a face that Choutarou knows well. It's what he likes to call Shishido's "trying to look tough because I'm so embarrassed I might die" face.
"That's not the point, Choutarou!"
"Yes it is! Don't blame me because you were too scared of your kouhai to say anything."
Shishido growls as they stare each other down. They glare at each other, so close they're almost cross eyed, chests heaving under the heightened emotions. And then, suddenly, Shishido tips his head back and laughs. Ohtori stares at him, mouth hanging open. He's beginning to wonder if he's broken Shishido, when the hand in his shirt loosens and strokes down his chest, firm and wonderful.
"Shit, Choutarou," Shishido mutters, trying to swallow down the laughter still peaking in his voice, "we wasted a lot of time."
"We still have time," Ohtori answers somberly.
"It'll be a bitch with me at school, you know."
"It's us, though," Ohtori says firmly. "We can do it." Shishido laughs, balling up his fist and holding his forearm out to Ohtori. It's a gesture they've made countless times on the court, an affirmation of their trust and loyalty. Their arms bump together, but Shishido's hand unfolds and catches Ohtori's, rather than dropping away.
"Yeah," Shishido agrees, gripping Ohtori's hand fiercely, "we can."
Hope you enjoyed!