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homsan toft ([personal profile] tofsla_fic) wrote2014-02-21 09:25 am

Provoke (Niou/Yagyuu)

Prince of Tennis, Niou/Yagyuu, M
2,300 words
Niou is jealous and confused. Manga continuity, some time during the nationals. Guest-staring Kaidou Kaoru.

It’s one thing to know, theoretically, that there’s another guy somewhere out there who Yagyuu has switched with, and it’s another thing entirely to have Yagyuu introduce that guy to him, calm as anything, no evidence for any sense of awkwardness.

“Niou-kun, this is Kaidou-san,” Yagyuu informs him lightly, smiling his best Polite Smile.

“Right,” Niou mutters. What the fuck is he meant to say? The other boy doesn’t exactly look thrilled to be introduced, either, and Niou really has to wonder what Yagyuu is up to.

He’s tried to put the whole fucking thing out of his mind since Yagyuu told him about it. Even on a theoretical level the thought was enough to let jealousy take root in him, and right now, with Kaidou’s uneasy not-quite-scowl right there, the urge to lash out is so damn strong.

He squashes it carefully, stores it up for later. He’s good at keeping control of himself when he feels like it, contrary to popular belief.

“I’m sure you remember me mentioning him,” Yagyuu adds, and his tone is just a touch too light, his smile a touch too brittle. Something is going on here. “And he played doubles against Marui and Jackal, of course.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Niou agrees, turning his eyes away and leaning on the railings in front of him, looking back towards the courts. Just before he turns away, though, he notes that Kaidou’s expression has dipped into a real scowl at the mention of that doubles match.

At least he isn’t the only one being made to suffer here - intentionally or otherwise. Sometimes it’s hard to tell, with Yagyuu.

Behind him, Yagyuu and Kaidou are talking about whatever random shit, tennis players they like, the difficulties of different techniques, who fucking cares.

A tiny, tiny part of his mind notes that actually, Kaidou doesn’t seem like a bad guy. If he’d met him some other way he might’ve tolerated him, at least. As it is, the thought is barely a footnote in his mind, because he and Yagyuu were meant to have something special of some sort, even if they’d never actually defined it, and where did Kaidou Kaoru fit into all of that?

His fingers twitch against warm metal, feeling the roughness of peeling paint, and he imagines turning around and punching Kaidou right in that face which is too much like Yagyuu’s, too much like his. It’s a warm, comforting thought. But he doesn’t. He keeps on watching the game - some doubles team from a nobody school playing against Shitenhouji, getting themselves flattened - as though he cares, and ignores everything going on behind him.

He almost misses the break in Yagyuu’s speech, the presence of a third voice, but he turns in time to see Kirihara dragging Yagyuu away by the wrist.

Just him and Kaidou, then.

He shoots the guy a look, scornful and annoyed, and finds himself on the receiving end of something very similar, shot right back at him.

Fuck you, he thinks, and turns away again. He doesn’t have to be sociable just because Yagyuu feels like making whatever obscure point by introducing the two of them.

There’s silence for a moment, then a hissed breath somewhere behind him, and footsteps retreating.

“What did you think of him?” Yagyuu asks when they find each other again - or, more accurately, when he finds Niou. Niou hasn’t been looking for Yagyuu at all. Not even a little.

He could swear there’s a slight barb to the words, something other than curiosity. Is he being baited?

“What, you’re looking for my blessing?” Niou snaps. They’re alone now, walking back towards the bus stop which will take them both to their respective homes. There’s no-one to put on an act for, except Yagyuu.

“And if I am?”

Niou’s fingers curl involuntarily into a fist. From the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees a slight twitch at the corner of Yagyuu’s lips, though he’s not sure enough to get much meaning from it - whether Yagyuu is amused or nervous, or something else entirely.

“Puri,” he mutters, because there just aren’t any words for all the things he’s thinking.

He should’ve punched Kaidou. Maybe he should punch Yagyuu. Whether he’s being played with or not, the bastard is asking for it.

They sit awkwardly on the bus, on separate seats, not touching at all.

“Is something the matter, Niou-kun?” Yagyuu asks, and he sounds so fucking sincere.

He should punch Yagyuu. But that’s not what he wants. He wants...

“What d’you think?” he shoots back, and keeps on staring out of the window.

“I think I would like an answer,” Yagyuu says, so quietly that Niou almost doesn’t hear.

He pretends not to, anyway.

The bus ride seems almost interminable. Three stops to go until he gets off, and two stops until Yagyuu does, and they’re still sitting in silence. He can feel tension building and building inside him, knows he’s going to have to do something soon - lash out, one way or another.

“If you don’t know,” he says without looking around, as the bus pulls up at the stop before Yagyuu’s, “then you’re fucking dense. But I reckon you do.”

Yagyuu’s reflection is blurry in the glass, but he can make out the shift in his expression, lips pressing together into a thin line.

More silence. Fucking great.

Yagyuu doesn’t get up at his stop, just says sat neatly across the aisle from Niou, hands resting on his lap, and only stands up a stop later, just as Niou does.

Syncopated footsteps on the pavement, long shadows across the concrete, and even more silence. On and on, until Niou can’t take it any more. He stops in his tracks, staring at Yagyuu’s back until his friend turns to face him, face in shadow, outlined by the setting sun. Expression masked.

“Why the hell are you doing this?” Niou asks, bitter and cold. He’d love to grab Yagyuu’s shirt, maybe knock him to the ground and pin him there, and then-- then--

He’s not even sure, and he thinks he’s decided not to, anyway, but his body seems to move without his permission. He’s far too close to Yagyuu, hand twisted in rough fabric, eyes narrowed but not avoiding Yagyuu’s any more. “Why the hell are you being such an asshole?”

“I would have hoped you would possess sufficient powers of reasoning to work this out, Niou-kun,” Yagyuu murmurs. How can he sound calm?

“Pretend I’m a moron,” Niou tells him savagely, shoves him back and watches him stumble with vindictive pleasure. “Spell it out for me.”

“Are you jealous?” Yagyuu asks. He sounds amused.

Niou punches him, grabs for him again as he recoils, drags him off the pavement and down the embankment by the side of the road, landing on top of him when they lose their footing on the steep slope.

Yagyuu opens his mouth to say something else, but Niou doesn’t want to hear it.

He kisses Yagyuu. It seems like the thing to do.

They’re lying in an uncomfortable heap, anyone walking along the pavement would be able to see them, and it’d probably serve him right if Yagyuu punched him back right about now.

There’s a terrible moment of stillness, as though the whole fucking world has stopped.

What the hell is he doing?

He pulls back, feeling confused, a vague sense of that’s not how it’s meant to happen.

“If that’s what you wanted,” Yagyuu breathes, “why didn’t you say so?”

Because it would’ve sounded fucking weird. Because normally it seems more important to keep talking to Yagyuu than to find out if they could... do anything else.

Yagyuu smirks up at him. It looks weird, with his hair out of place and a red mark on his right cheek, just below the edge of his glasses, which is probably going to bruise. Even his glasses are crooked.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Niou growls, everything snapping into place - how did it take so fucking long? “You wanted--”

“Mm, maybe,” Yagyuu half-agrees, as though it doesn’t really matter.

“Fuck, you’re a bastard.”

“I suppose so,”

Hesitation, tension, and yeah, Yagyuu is a bastard -- but Niou wants him. He can’t look away, barely feels as though he can move, though he’d love to pull the glasses away from Yagyuu’s eyes and look at them properly.

When he finally does find it in himself to move it’s only to lean in towards Yagyuu, needing to try again, needing confirmation or denial and not wanting to find the right words. Yagyuu moves at the same time, though, and they meet awkwardly, without coordination, too rough, too forceful, but damn, it’s good anyway - somehow.

Yagyuu bites Niou’s lip and Niou groans, hands clenching, fingers digging sharply into Yagyuu’s shoulders. He parts his lips for Yagyuu, mind reeling at the way this feels, losing himself a little more as their tongues slide together.

His hands make it under Yagyuu’s shirt somehow, slide up his chest until Yagyuu makes a strangled sort of sound into his mouth, body arching up towards Niou, and Niou breaks away from Yagyuu’s lips, fastens his mouth onto Yagyuu’s neck instead, teeth scraping over skin, leaving little red marks behind. All Yagyuu does is tip his head back, baring his throat, so Niou takes what’s being offered, licks and kisses a trail from the space between Yagyuu’s collarbones to the underside of his jaw, one hand moving back down to Yagyuu’s waist, lower, between his legs, feeling his own body responding to the hardness he finds there.

“Mine,” he hisses against Yagyuu’s skin, bites again, making a point. “Mine.

It’s so easy to sound certain. If only he felt it.

“Yes,” Yagyuu whispers in response, and Niou had barely noticed how tense Yagyuu still was until suddenly he isn’t any more. “Always.”

As though Niou has just passed a test. He feels that way himself, relief flooding through him. His, not fucking Kaidou Kaoru’s, not anyone else’s. Only his.

They kiss again, barely more gentle, but somehow very different - less about proving anything, more about closeness for its own sake. Yagyuu’s hands feel hot on Niou’s skin, tracing the line of his spine, up and back down again, fingers slipping below the loose waistband of his trousers, making him imagine what it would be like to be naked together, Yagyuu’s fingers exploring further, pushing into him...

“Oh god,” he hisses, hips jerking against Yagyuu’s, pressing their erections together through layers of fabric. “Yagyuu.

He’s faintly aware that they’re still in public, and even if this is a quiet road someone could still walk past, happen to glance down... he just doesn’t care that much right now. Still...

“Come back to mine,” he breathes into Yagyuu’s ear, dips his head a little more to bite lightly at the lobe and grins at the small, contented sound Yagyuu makes.

“Alright,” Yagyuu agrees, but he doesn’t seem inclined to move. Niou doesn’t really feel like it either, but he does feel like seeing how far they dare take this, and even by his standards this isn’t exactly the place.

He gets unsteadily to his feet, offers his hand to Yagyuu and pulls him upright. He does his best to straighten Yagyuu’s hair out for him, brushes away grass and dust from his back with more attention to detail than is really necessary, and looks his partner up and down critically. Nothing he can do right now is going to make Yagyuu look like his usual respectable self rather than someone who’s just been thoroughly molested, and though he’s quite fond of the overall effect himself he’s sure their parents won’t agree. Oh well - they can sneak straight up to his room tonight, and worry later.

He feels giddy, and elated, more than a little smug - even if he was manipulated into the whole damn thing, it’s what he wanted, and the rest of the world can go hang. Especially one scowling guy from Seigaku.

It isn’t far to his home, and they walk back side by side, not holding hands but letting their fingers brush sometimes as they walk, little touches which could be accidental. Niou finds himself stealing glances at Yagyuu, at the little marks on his skin. The sight makes him feel good, satisfied.

His family are home, but they make it upstairs without incident, Yagyuu retreating into Niou’s room while Niou gives a hurried explanation to his family, barely pausing long enough for them to get a word in before he follows Yagyuu, closing the door behind him with relief.

Yagyuu looks up from studying the items scattered across Niou’s desk, gives Niou a smile which contains none of the carefulness or formality he was afraid he might see there, and steps towards him.

“You’re certain about this,” he says - to his credit, it doesn’t sound like a real question.

“Mm,” Niou agrees, and the corner of Yagyuu’s mouth quirks upward noticeably, something in his expression enough to make Niou’s breath catch all over again.

“Then I suppose,” Yagyuu murmurs, running his fingers lightly over the back of Niou’s neck and drawing him closer, dipping his head so that his breath ghosts over Niou’s skin and his next words are almost lost, “you won’t mind if I...”

No, Niou thinks, as Yagyuu’s mouth moves over his neck, making him bite his lip to keep quiet - he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

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