Catch You, Catch Me

Midorino Mizu

Disclaimer: Tennis no Ohjisama and all associated characters are property of Konomi Takeshi.

Author’s Notes: I think I’ve been a CLAMP fan for too long, or something, because although I /like/ the Golden Pair, they don’t drive me to fangirl distraction. I think it’s because they’re relationship seems too obvious to me, to perfect. It shouldn’t work so perfectly. So I wrote something where it doesn’t.

Knowing something was wrong didn’t necessarily stop Kikumaru Eiji from doing it – not if the impetus was large enough.

Like when he and Oishi had started going out, he’d still seen Fuji. They weren’t romantic or anything, but they still saw each other. Sometimes. Even though Eiji had a boyfriend, and one that he did genuinely love.

But sometimes Oishi would get that faraway look in his eyes that made Eiji’s heart ache, and Fuji was always there to make it go away. So he’d justified it that way.

He needed Fuji. The tensai was an important part of him, rather like Tezuka was an important part of Oishi. He wouldn’t be comfortable if Fuji was gone.

Eiji preferred to keep the fact that his and Oishi’s relationships with Fuji and Tezuka were very different unacknowledged.

For a while, he’s contentedly gone on like that. If he wasn’t ecstatically, perfectly happy, well, he wasn’t miserable, either. Eiji could live with his life, the way it was.

And then there had been Saeki Kojirou.

They knew each other, though not well. Not as well as Saeki and Fuji knew each other, at any rate. The Rokkaku player had been one of Fuji’s friends, and Eiji had accepted him as such, and hadn’t considered Saeki past that.

The first time Kikumaru Eiji had actually been aware of Saeki Kojirou had been at the beach training camp, before the semifinal matches.

He hadn’t paid too much mind to the silver-haired player. Instead, he had bounced around the Rokkaku playground, with Saeki’s doubles partner in hot pursuit. Occasionally, he had felt a steady gaze on him, and he’d turned to see. And Saeki was standing there, watching, and talking to Fuji.

Eiji had considered it perfectly normal at the time; it had been perfectly normal. But the normalcy of it hadn’t prevented Eiji from feeling a shiver crawl up his spine whenever he felt Saeki’s stare that day.

They met again, on the tennis courts at the Kanto Tournament. Doubles, of course, since that was Kikumaru Eiji’s specialty. It had been a difficult game. Saeki had managed to thoroughly mark him, immobilizing him for much of the match.

It had been a third meeting, an encounter between the beach and the tournament, that had changed everything for Eiji; it had flipped his world upside down.

He had been out with Fuji, a friendly date.

It had actually begun at Oishi’s house…they had made plans for a study date, for the exams that were steadily approaching. Eiji had envisioned an evening that began with some serious work, went on to light teasing, and then moved on to…well, moved on. But Oishi had had that look in his eyes.

The one that said his mind and heart were not in Tokyo with Eiji; they were in Germany with their injured captain.

Eiji had learned early in their relationship that it was easiest to just cut his losses at times like these, make his excuses, and leave Oishi to his thoughts. He could prevent at least some of the heartache that way, and he wouldn’t have to watch his boyfriend think about another boy.

He’d gone to Fuji’s, of course – where he always went when he felt lost.

Fuji had taken him out. They’d wandered around downtown Tokyo, and Fuji had tried to cheer him up. It had worked, somewhat.

Then they had met Saeki, by some strange chance, walking around the city himself.

It wasn’t so weird to see students from Chiba in Tokyo, but it was odd for them to be hanging around so late. The trains to the other prefectures got more sporadic the later the hour.

But they waved to the Rokkaku senior, and he joined their aimless trek around Tokyo.

Eiji’s mood lightened as the traffic on the streets thinned out, and he was soon his usual effervescent self. Saeki followed him, his hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans, quietly watching the redhead with a small smile.

It was kind of like one of Eiji’s dates with Oishi, in a way, where he would bounce along, and Oishi would watch him with a quiet smile. Except…there was something different about Saeki. About the way he watched, and the way he smiled.

It was more dangerous than any expression that Oishi could ever manage.

He was caught up in himself and in Saeki’s unwavering attention, and it was a long while before Eiji noticed that Fuji was gone.

It was an even longer while before he went back home that night.

He and Saeki walked around Tokyo until almost everything was closed, talking and laughing about everything and nothing in particular. Well, Eiji had talked and laughed. Saeki had mostly listened and smiled.

When it had seemed that the city was closing down, they’d gone to a children’s park.

There was something different, almost sweetly forbidden, about a playground at night. The air was crisper, and there was a stillness that was impossible in the light of day.

At night, a playground wasn’t really for children anymore.

Eiji had climbed nimbly on some of the cool metal equipment, his path lighted only by the moon and a few street lamps, but after a while he tired of it, and settled on a swing next to Saeki, swaying slightly.

“So, what did bring you into Tokyo this late, Saeki-kun? You never said.”

“Hmm?” said Saeki absently. He had watched Eiji while the other player had danced across the jungle gym, before undertaking an examination of the stars. He glanced over at the slim redhead next to him, and his mouth turned up at the corners. “Oh, I just thought it would be more interesting than Chiba.

“And it is,” he added with a lazy curl of his lips. “Much more interesting.”

When Eiji looked Saeki’s eyes, he recognized the warm and lazy expression. And he wondered idly if Saeki had been hunting him all night long.

Then Saeki’s mouth met his, and Eiji didn’t wonder any longer.

***

The grass, Eiji would remember later, had been sharp and cold against his back, like fine needles. It wasn’t comfortable, and he’d squirmed a little at first, before stilling under Saeki’s dark, hot gaze.

There was something about those slate-colored eyes was transfixing, mesmerizing.

The entire experience was different from any he’d had before.

With Oishi, it was always about soft sighs and important words, and with Fuji…it was about comfort and friendship, and need. His need. It wasn’t at all like his relationship with Oishi, but it wasn’t like this, either.

Eiji didn’t think that Fuji ever looked at him like he was something to be possessed.

That was how it was with Saeki; the other player had subtly stalked his prey all night, and he would have him. They both knew that, and it sent a faint shiver of anticipation down Eiji’s spine.

He wondered if this was what he had always wanted, or if it was just what he wanted right now.

Eiji gasped softly when Saeki ran his teeth over a tendon in his neck, and was rewarded with a soft chuckle in his ear.

“You’re sensitive,” murmured the silver-haired player. “Nice.” He ran his fingers across Eiji’s chest; stopping to flick at the Seigaku player’s hard nipples before traveling lower. Each touch seemed to make his red-haired partner shudder slightly.

“It’s a shame,” Saeki continued, “that it’s really too late to take our time. It would be fun to play, don’t you think?”

Eiji’s only response was a heartfelt groan as Saeki’s long fingers encircled his cock.

“But we should keep it short. It still gets cool at night. We don’t want you to get sick, after all.”

Saeki leaned back, and dug in the pockets of his discarded jeans for a few moments. Eiji took the opportunity to catch his breath.

It had been full dark for hours now, but it was even darker in the little thatch of brush and trees where he and Saeki were. He could just barely make out the silhouettes of the park equipment he knew was a short distance away.

Not for the first time since he and Saeki had first kissed on the swings a scant twenty minutes before, Eiji asked himself if he knew what he was doing.

The answer, of course, was no. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He needed this now.

“Found it,” murmured Saeki as he leaned back over Eiji. His smile was distinctly predatory, and Eiji wondered how he could have missed the intent in it before. “Knees up.”

Eiji pulled his knees up to his chest in a position that would have made almost anyone else wince. Saeki lifted his dark eyebrows.

“I see the rumors were true,” he noted as he swirled an oil-slicked finger around Eiji’s opening. “You really are very flexible.”

He thrust his finger inside, and grinned as his partner’s back bowed off the ground, and small fingers ripped at clumps of grass. “Careful,” he said as he added a second finger. “You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

Eiji glared at Saeki with huge dark blue eyes, and opened his mouth to speak, when he felt the fingers withdraw, to immediately be replaced with something much larger.

Saeki was a little bigger than either Oishi or Fuji, he thought as he struggled to adjust. It hurt. He made a faint mewling sound, and wriggled in the cold grass.

“Shh,” murmured Saeki soothingly. “It’ll be better soon.”

Eiji nodded, taking a few deep breaths.

Soon, the burn faded to an ache, and Eiji found himself wanting more.

Saeki’s lips twitched upwards when he saw the discomfort fade from Eiji’s face, and he started to move. His partner gasped softly and squeezed his eyes shut, tossing his head to one side.

Eiji usually liked to watch his partners; he loved the play of emotions across their faces. But for some reason, he didn’t want to watch now.

He was almost afraid to watch Saeki; he was afraid he’d be drawn in further. So he kept them closed, hiding in the safe darkness.

They fluttered open again a moment later when Saeki stopped, and Eiji once again felt pinned – almost trapped – by the Rokkaku player’s stare.

“Don’t close your eyes, Kikumaru,” growled Saeki softly. “Look at me.”

Eiji complied, completely unable to countermand Saeki’s orders.

Saeki Kojirou did something to him, he realized. Something no one else had ever been able to do before.

He wondered, as Saeki’s tennis-roughened fingers gripped his legs and hitched them up higher, as Saeki drove deeper into him, if he would ever figure out what exactly that thing was.

***

Afterwards, they walked through the now mostly-deserted Tokyo streets in silence. Eiji didn’t feel like talking anymore, he was lost in his thoughts, and Saeki wasn’t the type for unnecessary words.

Necessary words were a different matter, however.

He waited until they were at the subway station, waiting for the last train to Chiba before he spoke.

“Kikumaru,” he said.

Eiji looked at him, blue eyes pensive under a deliberately light-hearted glitter. Saeki wondered how many people noticed that the Seigaku acrobat wasn’t as optimistic or artless as he first appeared.

Fuji probably did, he mused, but Fuji might be the only one. He doubted that Oishi Syuichiroh did.

“Yes, Saeki?” Eiji returned finally. His voice was deliberately distant.

Saeki brushed silver hair away from his face, and his mouth twisted into a smile. “I’ll see you again,” he said, in a way that could be either a question or a statement.

Eiji just looked at him for a long moment, before the corner of his mouth twitched up in a half smile. “You’ll see me again,” he confirmed.

The train roared into the station and came to a screeching halt in front of the two teenaged boys. Eiji stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to walk away, but stopped.

He looked over his shoulder at Saeki and grinned. “You’ll see me again,” he repeated, “but you might not catch me, next time.”

Saeki shook his head with a smile and boarded the car, flopping into a seat and closing his eyes.

He’d catch Kikumaru Eiji again, he thought, and the next time, he wouldn’t let go.

Not for a long time.

~fin