FIC: Tutoring Session (Prince of Tennis)



This was the result of a phrase prompt. The prompt phrase is stated at the end of the fic. Yaoi warning. Not necessarily canon.

Tutoring Session (Prince of Tennis)

By Haruka (haruka@ymail.com)

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Momoshiro Takeshi was having a hard time of it on the street court against Fudomine’s Kamio Akira. Normally, he knew he could beat him, but for some reason the Speed Demon seemed even faster than usual. Momo’s temper was getting the best of him, and it didn’t help that Kamio was egging him on.

“You’re always slow, Momoshiro, but today you seem to be going backwards!”

“Shut up and play!” Momo ordered, then served a ball into the net. He gave a frustrated shout and hurled his racquet across the court. It was a good thing that Kamio WAS fast, because he barely ducked in time.

Both Momoshiro and Kamio stared after the racquet, then at each other.

“You know,” the redhead remarked, “I don’t really mind if you want to play drama queen, but could you try not to take my head off?”

Momoshiro ran a hand over his face. He really didn’t want to hurt Kamio – they were friends, in a weird kind of way. “I’m sorry, really sorry,” he said. “It’s not you, or the game, or even my playing.”

Kamio cocked his head, twirling his racquet in his hands. “So what is it?”

Momo sat down on the court and Kamio jumped over the net to join him. “Promise you won’t laugh?” he asked.

“No.” The other boy grinned.

Momoshiro elbowed him. “Oh, you’re a BIG help!” he said, then sighed. “But I’ll tell you, anyway, because I need help and can’t talk to my teammates about it.”

Kamio waited expectantly. Momoshiro was grateful that this guy who lived and played ‘in rhythm’ was at least a good listener.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware of it or not, but Echizen Ryoma and I sort of have an understanding. At least, I’m pretty sure we do.” Momo leaned back and watched his sneakers as he waggled them back and forth. “We’ve gotten so far as holding hands, but I’d really like to try kissing him. Problem is …,” he mumbled the rest so that even Kamio’s sharp ears couldn’t hear it.

“You’re gonna have to speak up, man, if you want me to get the full picture,” he pointed out.

Momoshiro lay back so that he was looking up at the sky and didn’t have to see Kamio’s reaction. “I’ve never kissed anybody before.”

“Pfft! Is THAT all?”

Momo sat bolt upright. “What do you mean?! I’m THIRTEEN years old! I know I’ve got to be the only guy left on the team who has never kissed someone, except maybe for Ryoma, and I’m not even sure about him, not sure at all!” He shook his head. “That’s the other problem! What if he HAS kissed someone already, and then along comes clumsy me? He’ll think I’m pathetic!”

Kamio brushed back the ever-present fringe of hair in his face that promptly fell back down to cover one eye. “Man, you really ARE a drama queen! I think you’re worrying over nothing. Kissing isn’t that complicated.”

Momoshiro regarded him with sudden respect. “Hey, yeah, you’re going steady with Ibu Shinji, right? He’s a gorgeous guy, and for some reason he stays with you –“

“Thanks heaps!”

“Well, whatever the reason, you must be a good kisser or he’d look elsewhere.” Momo stared down at the ground mournfully. “I wish I’d had at least a LITTLE practice before. Some way of knowing that I won’t totally screw it up.”

Kamio shrugged. “There are ways to practice. Use a pillow or a mirror, or the back of your hand –“ When he didn’t hear a response from Momo, he looked over at him and found the other boy staring at him with a spreading, evil grin. Kamio blinked, then realized what Momo was thinking. “Oh no, no way!”

“Come on, man, just let me try it with you once, only once!” Momoshiro begged. “It won’t mean anything – it’s strictly for tutoring purposes!”

“I take it back; you’re not a drama queen, you’re the village idiot!” Kamio accused.

“I’ll pay you two thousand yen.”

Kamio paused. “For just one kiss?”

“Yeah.”

“And no one finds out? Because if Shinji hears about it, he’ll kill me AND you.”

“You think I want Ryoma to know, either? No way!” Momoshiro brought out the bills and held them toward Kamio. “You could take Ibu-kun out for a nice dinner.”

Kamio groaned and took the money, pocketing it. “Okay, let’s get it over with.” He crawled closer to Momo so that they were knee-to-knee, then looked around furtively.

“No one’s here, I’ve been watching,” Momo assured him. “Now, how do we do this?”

“Pay attention,” Kamio ordered. He put a hand on Momoshiro’s cheek, then leaned forward and kissed him warmly on the lips, sliding his hand behind his head. Momo was surprised at how nice it felt, even if it WAS Kamio and not Ryoma. He did his best to take note of where their noses went, how much pressure to use, and how long to let it linger before Kamio pulled away.

“Wow,” Momo said in wonderment. “It’s better than I thought.”

“Thanks, I think,” Kamio said, looking around the court area again and feeling relieved when no one burst out of hiding to either laugh or throw things at them.

“Thanks, man,” Momo said gratefully, with a sheepish grin. “I don’t feel so in the dark about these things now.”

“Well, make good use of it.” Kamio got to his feet and brushed himself off. “There’s no point in playing anymore, my rhythm is so off-track I’d be tripping over my own feet.”

Momoshiro puffed out his chest. “My kiss affected you that strongly, huh?”

“Not even close!” Kamio laughed, then waved his racquet in the other boy’s face. “And we’re never talking about this again, hear me?” He headed off the court. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat so we can feel hamburgers on our lips instead of each other.”

Momo didn’t feel put off by Kamio’s discomfort. He retrieved his racquet and followed his friend cheerfully, already planning his next date with Ryoma where he could put his newfound skill into practice. As nice as the kiss had felt, it had to be even better when mutual attraction was factored in.

Just you wait, Echizen, he thought smugly. Just wait.

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(Phrase prompt – Drama queen)

(2005)

Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi.

This fic is not to be re-posted.

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