The Thinnest Line

Archiving: just ask.
Rating: PG
Pairing: MomoKai, TezuRyo
Date Written: August 5, 2005
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Notes: This is a Momo/Kai ficlet written for [info]tracy_loo_who. She requested Momo and Kaidoh doing what they do best and screaming at each other. It turned out more oblique than I'd hoped, and also turned out to be TezuRyo, because apparently my brain can't think in any other terms lately. Hope you like. :)

Ryoma had the feeling, somehow, that when Tezuka asked him to become Seigaku’s pillar of support, he hadn’t meant it quite this literally.

“Momo-senpai,” he said ineffectually, grappling for a hold against Momo’s waist and pushing back against him as hard as he could. “Kaidoh-senpai!”

Behind him he could hear Horio and Kachiro struggling just as hard to hold Kaidoh back.

“That bastard,” hissed Kaidoh. “He’s the worst captain Seigaku’s ever had!”

“You’re just jealous,” snapped Momo, “That Tezuka-buchou chose me over you!”

“Momo-senpai, you’re the buchou now,” Ryoma reminded him, but he had a feeling Momo was too busy flailing for Kaidoh’s collar to hear.

“So you think Fuku-buchou is nothing, huh?” growled Kaidoh, who suddenly seemed much closer to Ryoma, which meant he’d probably broken free of the other second years’ tenuous hold on him. “You think Tezuka-buchou ever called Oichi-senpai a hothead with no brains?”

Momo growled and pushed past Ryoma at last, and Ryoma found himself being shoved aside as Momo leaped forward and resumed their screaming match, this time with a very determined grip on Kaidoh’s shoulders.

“That’s because Oichi-senpai was a good vice-captain,” he yelled. “But you—you’re like a steam engine with no fuel! Smoke comes out your ears but there’s nothing inside here!” He leaned in and thumped Kaidoh’s forehead soundly, and for a moment Ryoma feared he might not survive the next five seconds.

Kaidoh’s face went purple and he leaned forward and gripped Momo in a stranglehold. “What are you saying, you arrogant windbag?” He seethed. “Only an insecure idiot would resort to insults like that!”

“Are you saying,” said Momo, glaring at Kaidoh from a distance of about two centimeters away, “that I’m insecure?”

“If the shoe fits, asshole!”

“Challenge me and I’ll show you who’s insecure!”

From there the snarling might have quickly descended into an all-out no-holds-barred sweaty fist-fight, had Kachiro not had a brilliant idea. With an amount of bravery that Ryoma found quite impressive, he marched up to the fray and stuck Kaidoh’s cell phone in front of Kaidoh’s face.

“Kaidoh-senpai, Inui-senpai’s on the phone,” he said. Ryoma also had to give Kachiro points for playing innocent. Kaidoh’s eyes went wide, and his face suddenly went a shade of red that had nothing to do, Ryoma suspected, with his rising blood pressure.

“I—Inui-senpai?” he said, and took the phone automatically.

Ryoma watched the light fizzle out of Momo’s eyes while Kaidoh meekly made monotone responses into his phone. When Kaidoh said in a quiet, thin voice, “Yes, everything’s fine, senpai,” Momo muttered something indistinct and turned away with his fists clenched.

He naturally found the entirety of the Seigaku tennis club staring at him.

“Everyone… run ten laps!” he barked.

Ryoma stood beside him for a moment, fiddling with the brim of his cap.

“Hey, that meant you, too,” mumbled Momo.

“Momo-buchou,” Ryoma said nonchalantly, “I hear they’re having a date night at the street courts soon.”

Momo cocked his head. “What are you saying, kid, you’re asking me out or something?”

“Che,” said Ryoma with a shrug. “I’m saying if you don’t act fast, Inui-senpai might ask Kaidoh-senpai before you do.”

Momo’s spluttering lasted long enough that Ryoma was able to make it out of earshot before he suggested upping the number of laps from ten to twenty.

~~~~~~~~

Tezuka wasn’t one for much physical contact, which suited Ryoma just fine, but as they were walking into the street courts two nights later his hand came firmly down on Ryoma’s shoulder, and Ryoma looked up to find him staring at the courts.

“Buchou?” Ryoma said, out of habit.

“Will you mind if we play tennis elsewhere?” Tezuka asked. “It’s date night tonight.”

“Sure,” said Ryoma, fighting a sudden, surprisingly intense surge of disappointment.

Tezuka turned his head and looked down at him narrowly. “When I take you on a date, Echizen,” he said calmly, “I’d rather it be somewhere a bit more private.”

Ryoma spared a quick glance up at him from beneath the brim of his cap and said, “Hai,” in a much quieter voice.

“And at the moment,” Tezuka continued, “I think we would be interrupting Momoshiro and Kaidoh.”

Instinctively Ryoma listened for the sound of yelling. When he heard nothing he began, “How can you…” Tezuka once again cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. Ryoma followed his gaze to the outermost court in the back, where two figures at center court were currently engaged in something that looked nothing like tennis.

Ryoma blinked.

“I hope this means good things for your tennis practices in future,” remarked Tezuka.

“Hai,” said Ryoma, staring as Momo loosened Kaidoh’s bandana and moved his own hand through Kaidoh’s hair instead.

“It’s true, after all,” said Tezuka shrewdly, “What they say about the thinnest line.”

Ryoma nodded, and, as he turned away, made a sudden, firm resolution to keep Tezuka far, far away from Atobe.


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