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homsan toft ([personal profile] tofsla_fic) wrote2014-02-21 09:17 am

Proximity (Niou/Yagyuu)

Prince of Tennis, Niou/Yagyuu, M
2,500 words
Yagyuu helps Niou avoid things. Featuring a late-night phonecall, a convenience store, hair-bleaching, and handjobs.



“What is it you want, Niou-kun?”

Yagyuu’s voice is sleepy over the phone, but he didn’t have to ask who was calling. Niou smirks, or maybe actually smiles.

“Just to hang out.”

“At two in the morning.” It isn’t a question. Just a statement. He can almost hear Yagyuu thinking about it. “Where are you?”

He gives the name of the bus stop, though there aren’t any buses at this time of night. Not here. But it isn’t far, Yagyuu can walk.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“See you in ten.”

He hangs up.

Yagyuu will arrive in fifteen minutes anyway, most likely, just to make some kind of obscure point. Niou can wait. It’s enough to know that Yagyuu will go along with things like this. There are a lot of things he doesn’t want to say but Yagyuu seems to understand. Enough, at least, if not everything.


“Why do they call them convenience stores?” Niou asks a still-drowsy Yagyuu twenty minutes later, staring at rows of probably-inedible cakes, weird stationary, toiletries. “Look at this. Who wakes up in the middle of the night and thinks, I know what I need - a miniature sewing kit? Really fucking convenient.”

Yagyuu raises an eyebrow at him, and Niou grins.

“Possibly a similar kind of person to the kind who decides to wake his friend up in the middle of the night because he wishes to criticise the content of convenience stores.”

“You love me anyway.”

Yagyuu smirks and adjusts his glasses, something in the twist of his lips giving a silent agreement. “Someone has to.”

“This,” Niou declares a moment later, once he’s stopped laughing, “is intriguing.”

“It is just a travel stationary kit, Niou-kun,” Yagyuu tells him, but Niou can see he is at least a little amused by the whole thing.

“Sure. For when you need to staple really small things together in a hurry or... People buy so much crap.”

Niou is faintly aware that the cashier is beginning to give him hostile looks. He isn’t exactly keeping his voice down, but what the hell. Next to him, Yagyuu gives the woman an ice-cold look, unapologetic. That’s his partner.

“And that’s why I am here, is it?” Yagyuu asks, but he’s actually almost smiling, oddly affectionate. Indulgent.

“Well, we could always buy something.”

His fingers brush along the shelves, knocking carefully placed products just a touch out of line. Bottles of soap, painkillers. Condoms. His grin widens a little as Yagyuu’s expression shifts - only a fraction, but just about noticeable - and he makes a point of slowing down for a moment before moving on. He can’t resist teasing, just a bit. They’ve never... the idea still makes him awkward, even though it’s enticing, even though he wants to - really.

In the end, his fingers close around a packet of hair bleach.

“Really?” Yagyuu asks. “At twenty past two in the morning.”

“As good a time as any. My roots are showing. People will know my secret.”

“Ah yes. The shocking, horrifying fact that Niou Masaharu has black hair. Who would have thought a Japanese boy would--”

Niou pokes him in the ribs, and Yagyuu swats his hands away with a good-natured smile.

Niou pays for the bleach and for gloves, standing too close to Yagyuu and grinning at the cashier’s expression, somewhere between disapproval and fascination, all muted because she’s obviously too polite to want to be seen staring.

Politeness has never been a problem Niou has suffered from. Yagyuu can be polite enough for both of them, when he wants to be. Right now, though, his hand is resting on the curve of Niou’s lower back, fingers stroking lightly where the woman can’t see. Possessive.

But then, Yagyuu knows why Niou has dragged him out here, or can guess. That explains a little extra attention, maybe. Niou thinks he likes it, overall - likes Yagyuu daring to touch him in public, even a little bit.

He’s in the process of leading Yagyuu towards the nearest public toilets he knows the location of when Yagyuu, obviously figuring out where they’re going, grabs his wrist to stop him. “Niou-kun. Just come to my house.”

He considers for a moment, and shrugs. It’s where his parents will assume he is, but it’s not like he’s actually trying to hide from them, just sometimes sharing a house with all of them drives him kind of mad. It’s not that weird to get pissed off with your parents when you’re fifteen years old and - even he’ll admit - pretty damn awkward.

Yagyuu’s house has a lot of advantages, anyway.

They let themselves in quietly, whispering back and forth as they stumble up the stairs and into the bathroom, Yagyuu’s hand sliding down to rest on Niou’s backside as Niou slides the door quietly closed and clicks the lock in place, wincing at how loud it sounds in the stillness of the house. Still, Yagyuu’s parents are pretty easy-going, and more than used to Niou’s occasional invasions by now. They are, as far as he can tell, happy that Yagyuu has a friend they are actually allowed to meet. Yagyuu isn’t unpopular, as such, but he doesn’t let many people get to know him well enough that he would invite them back to his house.

What they don’t know, Niou thinks, and almost laughs. But it’s only a moment before Yagyuu is far too close behind him (or just close enough), and his hands are on Niou’s shoulders, guiding him back and pulling him down to sit on the floor, nestled between Yagyuu’s legs - Yagyuu’s arms loose around him.

He grabs for the bag, pulls it open, mixes the powder and liquid peroxide together with no respect for the state of his skin and only wrinkling his nose a little at the smell. He actually kind of likes it, but it’s so strong at first.

Yagyuu’s hands moving up to his neck make him start, but only a little. He loves to be touched there, and Yagyuu knows it; even though his partner is apparently untying his hair, smoothing it out for him so that it will bleach more evenly, the little brushes of fingers against the nape of his neck must be entirely intentional. They make Niou lose focus, make his cock twitch and begin to harden in his pants - it doesn’t take much. He has to bite at his lip to remind himself to pay attention to what he’s doing. It’s difficult, especially when Yagyuu gives up on pretence and presses a light kiss to Niou’s skin, right where his fingers were a moment before.

Luckily his hands are alongside Niou’s in time to catch hold of the bleach before it spills all over the bathroom floor. Niou only notices that he’s let go of it a moment later, but it’s ok. No harm done. Shit, he’s too turned on to care much.

“You going to help me?” he asks Yagyuu, voice a touch rough, and grins as Yagyuu sets about removing his shirt for him, though he knows it’s only so it won’t get bleach on it really. Even if he’d rather go for some making out and maybe mutual handjobs right now they’ll waste the bleach if they don’t use it soon.

His hands aren’t overly steady right now, and apparently Yagyuu’s aren’t either, but they’ll manage. He’s bleached his hair while drunk before - the first and only time he’s got so wasted - and that came out ok. Mostly.

He shifts enough to let Yagyuu reach the bag and retrieve the gloves, and closes his eyes, leaning into it as Yagyuu’s fingers run through his hair, spreading the bleach with far more attention to detail than Niou can usually be bothered with. It makes his scalp itch, but it’ll be fine once it’s washed out. He concentrates on Yagyuu instead, a warm body behind him a lingering hint of an erection pressing into his lower back and assuring him that he wasn’t the only one enjoying himself just now.

“There,” Yagyuu says at length, prodding Niou to prompt him to move. Niou gets to his feet reluctantly, and steals a kiss before Yagyuu can make it as far as the sink, still feeling horny.

“Wait a few minutes,” Yagyuu tells him firmly, and Niou has to suppress laughter again, knowing that Yagyuu is imagining bleach stains on his shirt with horror. Yagyuu can be remarkably vain at times, but that’s ok. So can Niou, in his own way. It still amuses him that Yagyuu buys expensive shirts and wears designer glasses; he hadn’t realised how much the fucking glasses frames cost until the time he’d gone to get a matching pair with plain glass lenses, but it sort of makes sense. Yagyuu is kind of... weirdly stylish, though his fashion sense is understated, subtle, and everything Niou’s is not. It amuses Niou, and it undeniably suits Yagyuu.

Niou is in no way above admitting to the fact that he finds Yagyuu, as Yagyuu himself once put it when he noticed Niou staring, aesthetically pleasing. But until he’s washed the bleach out of his hair he’s obviously going to have to do more looking than touching, which is kind of a shame. He settles for sliding back down onto the floor and appreciating the view he has of Yagyuu’s back, and when Yagyuu is done getting rid of the bleach he sits down across from Niou, lets their legs touch where they’re stretched out across the floor. Niou edges forward, runs his foot up the inside of Yagyuu’s thigh, stops just short of the place where his legs meet. Smirks at the expression on Yagyuu’s face, the hint of his eyes sliding shut behind his glasses, the faint catch in his breathing. There’s silence for a while, comfortable and familiar if edged with no small amount of lust.

“But you’re alright,” Yagyuu says eventually, and though it is given in the tone of a statement there’s a real question underneath it.

“Sure,” Niou agrees. If he wasn’t, he definitely is now. “Was kinda pissed off. Just felt like being somewhere else for a while.”

Yagyuu’s smile in response is almost soft. Niou knows Yagyuu is glad he’s always the one Niou goes to. Even if he’s never actually said it in words, that expression is clear enough. Silence takes over again, the two of them happy to sit there, sharing little touches, just being close. Probably it’s all kinds of stupid and sappy but what the hell.

When he washes the bleach out of his hair Yagyuu helps him again, hands warm over his own, making sure he gets rid of it all.

“It’s like a ritual,” he comments, voice muffled because most of his head is covered by a towel and he’s bent forward to try and dry his hair off. “White symbolises purity or some crap, right?”

He knows that behind him Yagyuu is trying to decide if he should be amused or just despair.

“Or truth,” Yagyuu offers eventually. “Both of which I’m sure are deeply appropriate.”

Niou tosses the towel aside, shakes his head sending some of the remaining water scattering across the room, and grins. “Something in your tone, Yagyuu-kun, implies that you might believe me to be an individual lacking either purity or truthfulness. I find myself deeply offended.”

“What a shame,” Yagyuu murmurs, placing himself firmly in Niou’s personal space, tilting Niou’s head until their eyes meet. He is going to say something else, in all probability, but at that stage resisting temptation becomes too much for Niou and they find themselves very much otherwise occupied - Niou’s tongue pushing into Yagyuu’s mouth, Yagyuu’s hands on Niou’s still-bare chest leaving trails of heat on cool skin. Niou’s hands doing their best to get rid of Yagyuu’s shirt. This is still sort of new, something to be explored and experimented with, an interesting game and a want and a need.

Niou succeeds in at least getting Yagyuu’s shirt open, dips his head to bite at a collarbone, press kisses to Yagyuu’s chest, draw his tongue roughly across a nipple and smirking at the gasp he manages to draw from Yagyuu, hastily stifled. Yagyuu’s fingers play with he waistband of his trousers, sliding just under, teasing. Thumbs trace the line of his hipbones, hands clutch at him as he finds a more sensitive point.

Niou,” Yagyuu hisses, and Niou straightens up to look him in the eye again, expression wicked and delighted. A moment, frozen face to face, then a hungry kiss, hips pressed together. Yagyuu’s hands tangled in Niou’s newly-bleached hair. Soft noises, gasped breaths. The need to be quieter but Niou can’t bring himself to voice the thought. They jerk each other off urgently, not bothering to take their time, not even getting all the way out of their clothes, just clinging together, Niou trapped between Yagyuu and the wall, Yagyuu seeming as though he’s barely keeping his feet, leaning heavily on Niou, one arm around his shoulders and the other between their bodies. Nothing else matters for the moment except for Yagyuu, Yagyuu gasping against his neck, body tensing, the two of them getting lost in each other, so good, better than good.

If anyone in Yagyuu’s family has just been traumatised for life, he decides afterwards, he doesn’t actually care. Yagyuu is more or less collapsed against him, pulling himself together again, they’re both breathing hard, and the whole room smells of bleach, smells of sex.

It also has to be about half past three in the morning. He feels oddly awake; but Yagyuu is yawning.

“That boring?” he asks teasingly, nudging Yagyuu, and feels Yagyuu chuckling against his neck.

“Yes, it was terrible,” he thinks Yagyuu says, so he smacks him - lightly - on general principle. Yagyuu pulls back a bit, looking distinctly dishevelled, and gives him an amused look. “Niou-kun. Really. We need to get some sleep.”

Niou shrugs, lets Yagyuu untangle himself, grinning fondly at him. “Hey, you’re the one who let me drag you out of bed in the first place.”

“And now I am dragging you back to my bed. Is there a problem?”

“Well,” Niou decides, “when you put it like that...”

They end up falling asleep awkwardly, sharing a bed which is too small, but it’s ok - the room is cold, and the warmth is welcome. Niou drifts off slowly, listening to Yagyuu’s even breathing. When he’s as sure as he can be that Yagyuu is asleep he whispers, “thanks.” Not really for any one thing, but...

He isn’t entirely surprised when Yagyuu cracks one eye open and mumbles something which sounds like you’re welcome.

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