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Most of the first string had invaded his dorm -against his will- like usual and were reeking havoc on the quiet night he would have preferred. Especially since quiet nights had recently begun to include Sawamura laying on his floor reading manga with his ever changing expressions amusing Miyuki every time he looked up from his work. Even worse than missing out on rare non-baseball centric time alone with Sawamura, his idiotic teamates were currently talking about girls and dating.
Miyuki ignored them and focused on his scorebook until he heard his own name from Kuramochi’s mouth, “Don’t bother asking Miyuki for advice; he turns down every girl that confesses to him.”
Miyuki looked over his shoulder and smirked, “Wow, didn’t know you were paying me so much attention, ~Mochi~” he said faux flirtatiously. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Choke and die,” Mochi said deadpan.
Miyuki doubled over laughing. Mochi chucked his video game controller at his head, which Miyuki caught easily. He wiped a fake tear away, “a death threat is better than a confession coming from a mug like yours.”
“Not everyone can be a pretty boy catcher,” Mochi hissed, “You’re just lucky most girls will overlook your personality, asshole.”
“Yeah!” Sawamura chimed in like a socially unaware hype man, “Some of us can’t rely on our looks to get us out of trouble.”
An are-you-shitting-me silence descended on the room as every person thought back to a different time that they let Sawamura get away with some sort of nonsense because of his puppy-dog expression and adorable face that was so difficult to be legitimately mad at. Miyuki had only managed it twice.
Mochi pinched the bridge of his nose, “Who taught Bakamura sarcasm?” he growled. He glared at Miyuki, “it was you wasn’t it?”
Miyuki held up his hands for once not needing to feign innocence.
Sawamura’s eyebrows scrunched adorably in confusion, as his golden eyes framed with thick lashes widened in surprise, “What? I’m agreeing with you!” He cried right as Mochi tackled him and put him in an octopus hold.
Little Kominato cleared his throat calmly, “Eijun, you are very handsome that’s why Kuramochi is upset.”
Furuya cracked one eye open from where he was napping against his shoulder, “Shouldn’t he be mad that he’s unattractive, not that Sawamura is pretty?’
Miyuki was about to bust a gut with how hard he was laughing at Mochi’s face. He looked like he was about to drop Sawamura and strangle Furuya when Sawamura started crying dramatically, “You guys-” Sniffle, “-are so nice.” Mochi dropped him like a hot potato.
Sawamura spent the rest of the night sitting in between little Kominato and Furuya with pink cheeks and glassy eyes. When Miyuki finally had his room to himself and he laid down to get some shut eye, he couldn’t sleep. He ground his teeth and tried to pretend his sour mood wasn’t caused by a strange envy of how easily the second years were able to compliment Sawamura. It would mean something different if Miyuki had said it.
He fell asleep imagining pink cheeks and soft lips.
*
That’s a great idea, is what Miyuki had thought when the Coach announced a round robin practice tournament. Yakushi and Sankou were both teams that Seido -especially Miyuki’s pitchers- could learn from. However, Miyuki wanted to disrespectfully withdraw that sentiment the moment he turned a corner and saw Sanada Shunpei with one hand on Sawamura’s waist pressing him against the wall and the other tilting his chin up to make Sawamura meet his gaze.
An emotion he didn’t -or wouldn’t- recognize cut through Miyuki in an instant at the sight. It was so overwhelming the way it scorched him from the inside out that for a moment he wasn’t able to speak. Right when the burning left his throat and the words get your hands off my pitcher finally sprang to his lips, he was dragged back by Kuramochi’s firm grip on his arm. He had honestly forgotten Mochi had accompanied him to look for their wayward pitcher.
Mochi, for his part, looked absolutely gleeful at this turn of events. He smothered his laughter against his palms and whispered, “This is priceless, I’m gonna tease him about this till I graduate.” He had an iron grip around Miyuki’s shoulders, “He has no idea, Sanada’s trying to flirt.”
Torn between elbowing Mochi in the gut to loosen his hold and trying to play the situation off, Miyuki found himself eavesdropping along with him.
“I expected better of you, Sanada-senpai, what happened to the honorable pitcher I look up to?” Sawamura scolded him and Miyuki could picture the exact huffy red-cheeked face he was making without even peeking around the corner.
Sanada chuckled, “What if I said this has nothing to do with baseball, hmm? What then?”
At this Miyuki couldn’t help but lean around the corner to see Sawamura’s reaction. For a moment he just tilted his head in puppy-like confusion, before deciding he was still angry and poking Sanada in the chest and dislodging Sanada’s hold on his chin, “Everything has to do with baseball,” He puffed his cheeks out, “You’re just trying to throw me off before our match, but jokes on you I’m used to being made fun of.”
Sanada sighed as he placed his palm against the wall next to Sawamura and continued to lean over him, and for a moment -despite wanting to take a baseball bat to his gut with a homerun swing- Miyuki related to him all too well. “Is it that hard to believe I think you’re cute?”
Kuramochi pulled Miyuki -who hadn’t even realized he lunged forward- back by his jersey and hissed, “What are you doing? Don’t interrupt! This is gonna be blackmail material to last a lifetime.”
Sawamura pouted, and looked at him skeptically, “You’ve got weird taste.”
Sanda arched a brow, but his hand fell from Sawamura’s waist as he gave him a little more space, “Why ‘cause I like boys?”
Miyuki held his breath, suddenly glad Mochi had stopped him from interrupting. What a jackpot, he was about to hear Sawamura answer the question he had always expected being the one to ask.
Sawamura’s eyes widened, “No, of course not! I-” He blushed tomato red, “I’m the same.”
Miyuki felt a record scratch to a stop in the middle of his brain.
Sanada smiled, his eyes sparkling with victory and mischief as he leaned down bringing their faces closer, “Then what’s the issue?”
Sawamura was floundering, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to string some words together. He finally compiled a sentence, “I don’t like liars,” he crossed his arms.
“I never lied,” Sanada smirked, and added, “to you.” He frowned when Sawamura didn’t seem like he was going to budge on the matter. His voice dropped into a more serious tone, the teasing glint left his eyes, “I meant it, Sawamura; you’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
Sawamura looked like a standing error message, his eyes round like two gold coins.
“I can’t believe no one’s ever told you that before,” he rubbed the back of his neck looking bashful for the first time Miyuki had ever seen.
Mochi was pretending to gag, but Miyuki really felt like he might throw up. He turned his back on Sanada and Sawamura only to slide down the wall much to Mochi’s alarm.
“That’s not exactly true.” Miyuki really wished the voice who spoke next was literally anyone other than Amahisa Kousei. “I text him that all the time,” he said shamelessly.
“I delete those messages!” Sawamura screeched.
“Doesn’t make it any less true.” He cut Sawamura off before he could reply, “You’re senpais were looking for you by the way. I came to find you before they could yell at you. Aren’t I sweet?”
He gasped, ignoring the last part, “Oh no, they are gonna kill me!”
Miyuki glanced up at Mochi who was sporting an evil grin. He heard Sawamura immediately run off in the opposite direction at full speed.
Mochi chuckled, “We should head back before the idiot beats us to the field.”
Miyuki took one last glimpse around the corner. Sanada was smiling viciously, “Amahisa.”
“Sanada,” Amahisa had that holier than thou expression on his face that made opponents think he was looking down on them. “May the best man win.”
He laughed, “The game?”
“It applies to both.” He grinned, “Best of luck.”
“I won’t need it.”
*
Miyuki glared at Sawamura’s phone. It was on silent, but he could see it lighting up again and again out of the corner of his eye, with the name Amahisa flashing across the screen. Sawmura ignored it in favor of reading his romance manga, lying on his stomach and with his feet in the air which kicked back and forth when he was particularly affected by the story he was reading.
Resigned to the fact he couldn’t focus on his homework, Miyuki grabbed a pillow and tossed it on top of Sawamura’s phone. He copied Sawamura’s pose except with a score book instead of a manga. With his elbows on the pillow, he wished he was smothering Amahisa’s smug face instead of an innocent cell phone.
Sawamura glanced at him, but otherwise kept reading. Miyuki had made sure to keep some place between them when he layed down, but Sawamura immediately closed it, like it was weird not to be touching when sitting next to someone. His arm was warm against Miyuki’s.
“Sawamura,” The boy in question immediately gave Miyuki his full attention. Miyuki chuckled at Sawamura’s suddenly serious expression, “Calm down- jeez it’s nothing serious.” Put away those lion eyes he wanted to say.
Immediately his face transformed into a petulant pout and Miyuki would be hard pressed to decide which expression he liked more, “Then why’d you use your captain-y voice?” He accused.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dork,” He flicked Sawamura on the forehead. He was about to start yelling so Miyuki interrupted, “The other day in between practice games, were Sanada and Amahisa.. bothering you?”
He blinked a few times, and studied Miyuki’s face like he was looking for the rest of the question, “No? Wait-” a flush started to crawl up his neck, “Were you listening?”
“I just saw them talking to you is all.”
Sawamura eyed him distrustfully.
Miyuki rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder against Sawamura’s, “I’m not asking to make fun of you.” He didn’t bother mentioning that Mochi was definitely going to once he found the perfect moment.
Sawamura seemed to weigh the risks of answering for a moment. “Not bothering, no- well okay sometimes, but not like in a scary way- They just- ugh.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Miyuki quipped, to cover up the fact he hated that he wasn’t the one responsible for the dusting of pink across Sawamura’s cheeks right now, that he wasn’t the one who had been the first to tell Sawamura he had the prettiest eyes in the world.
He glared, but his face softened when he met Miyuki’s eyes, “Fine, let me explain?” The way he said it sounded more like do you actually care?
Miyuki nodded.
He found what he needed in Miyuki’s face to continue, “I was really chubby in elementary school. Like really really chubby,” fidgeted with the pages of his book and waited to see if Miyuki was gonna interrupt. When the interruption didn’t come he took a deep breath and continued, “My classmates were… Well, I thought we were all friends. They told me I was cute and when everyone laughed I thought we were laughing together. They used to-” He bit his lip.
Miyuki felt a cold stone drop to the bottom of his gut; Sawamura’s eyes were glassy with memories that he couldn’t see.
He shook his head like a dog getting water out of its ears, “Long story short, that’s when I learned that sometimes people say the opposite of what they mean because it’s funny if you believe it.”
The literal last thing Miyuki wanted to do was help Sanada or what’s-his-face, but he called upon every single cell in his body that wasn’t naturally a selfish bastard to say, “You know it's not the same thing, right?”
Sawamura’s shoulders were so tense they were practically at his ears. Miyuki put his hand in between Sawamura’s shoulder blades and couldn’t help, but smile when he immediately relaxed, “I know they are probably just trying to be my friends or whatever-”
“Or whatever is an understatement,” Miyuki muttered under his breath.
“-but it…” he trailed off.
“But it feels like a lie when they compliment you.”
He bit his bottom lip again in a way that on anyone else would look practiced and contrived. He nodded, “Unless it's about baseball, because obviously I’m amazing.”
He chuckled, “Sure, sure.” Miyuki rested his chin in his palm, “I get what you mean.” He smirked under Sawamura’s surprised gaze, “You know I wasn’t always this perfect.”
Sawamura jostled him hard with a knock of his shoulder against Miyuki’s. Miyuki let himself be pushed over onto his back; he looked up at the plain white ceiling, “I got picked on too, in elementary and middle school.”
“What? Why?” Sawamura sounded aghast.
“I was too short and didn’t know when to shut up.” He shrugged and glanced at Sawamura who was glaring at the wall. “All my senpais back then told me to give up and that I’d never be a good enough catcher.”
Sawamura looked at him sharply, his eyes glowing with unnecessary anger, “Well jokes on them because you’re better than good enough, you’re the best.”
Miyuki grinned, “I know, right?” which earned him a kick to the shin.
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
Sawamura grabbed him by the collar to shake some sense into him, but instead of letting him like normal, Miyuki put his hands over Sawamura’s and held them still, “My point-” he said looking up at Sawamura who kneeled above him, “-is their opinions never mattered. You were cute then; you’re cute now.”
Sawamura’s hands went limp in Miyuki’s. After a long pause, he said the last thing Miyuki expected, “You were good enough then; you’re good enough now.”
*
Miyuki was keeping an eye on Sawamura from the moment they exited the bus and entered the stadium, but his crucial mistake was trusting the second years with going to the bathroom by themselves. Furuya and little Kominato returned but his ace was nowhere to be seen. Miyuki abandoned the game he was supposed to be watching with Nabe and went pitcher wrangling without a second thought.
His heart was beating much too fast for the situation at hand, but unwarranted images of some asshole pushing Sawamura up against a wall and sticking their tongue down his throat kept intruding into Miyuki’s brain. Sawamura was too naive for his own good. How in the hell did his parents send him to Tokyo and sleep at night knowing that soft-hearted idiot was running around making one high school baseball prodigy after another fall in love with him? For their mental health, he hoped they had no idea the effect Sawamura had on people.
Speak of the devil, when Miyuki finally found him he was standing with a small group of people that, based on the family resemblance -they were loud as hell-, must have been his parents and grandpa in town to see their game later in the day. He stopped about twenty feet away and caught his breath with his hand pressed to his chest as though he would force his heart to calm down.
He’s fine; he’s safe. He’s fine; he’s safe, Miyuki chanted to himself. He leaned against the wall, and as he heart slowed down he smiled to himself as he mentally workshopped how he was going to tease Sawamura from getting separated from the group again. Maybe he would imply Sawamura got lost, which would inevitably lead to him screaming about how country boys had great senses of direction. Miyuki cackled to himself, that would definitely get him at least an hour of Sawamura’s undivided wrath* (read: attention).
His train of thought was cut short by the sight of Amahisa waltzing up to Sawamura’s family and introducing himself as Sawamura’s senpai. Miyuki kept his nails short for baseball and yet he still felt them digging into his palm with how tight his fist was clenched.
Amahisa had the audacity to throw his arm around Sawamura’s shoulders, and laugh even as Sawamura referred to him as, “barely an acquaintance” to his family.
Despite Sawamura’s crossed arms and rude words, Miyuki could see his red ears and the way he didn’t push Amahisa’s arm off of his shoulders.
“Thank you for looking after our boy,” His mom said.
Sawamura and Miyuki scoffed simultaneously.
His dad looked misty-eyed, “We’re just so glad he was able to make friends and on other teams no less.”
“DAD!” Sawamura screeched, embarrassed.
His grandpa laughed in his face, “You can’t blame us for worrying you didn’t make your first friend until middle school and-”
“Grandpa!”
It looked like Sawamura was about to get smacked upside the head, but Amahisa chimed in. He smooshed Sawamura’s cheek against his and said, “Who wouldn’t wanna be friends with this guy?”
The back of Sawamura’s neck rivaled a stop sign.
Miyuki wanted to walk up and rip Amahisa’s arm off of Sawamura and replace it with his own. He wanted to introduce himself to Sawamura’s family and take credit for how well he was doing. He wanted to compliment their son just to see how flustered he could make him. He wanted to see how angry Sawamura would get after seeing how polite Miyuki could pretend to be. He wanted to make his parents like him so much they invited him over for holidays. He wanted- he wanted so much.
Instead he listened to Amahisa ramble about how impressed he was with Sawamura the first time he saw him pitch. He listened to his parents scold Sawamura for not inviting Amahisa over for a visit sooner and remark how nice Sawamura’s new friend was. He listened to Sawamura try to protest, but eventually he conceded that, “Maybe if he’s lucky,” he’ll let Amahisa come with him next time he visits home.
Miyuki’s legs felt heavy as he turned on his heel and walked back the way he came.
When he sat down next to Kuramochi he asked, “Did you find him?”
“He’s talking with his family,” Miyuki replied numbly.
Mochi looked at him strangely; Miyuki couldn’t care.
*
A bus ride after a victory was always filled with an untamable celebratory energy. Maybe that’s why Miyuki didn’t stop himself from grabbing Sawamura by the back of his jersey right on top of that number one and pulling him into the seat next to him that Mochi usually occupied before the pitcher could make his way back to sit among the other second years. He didn’t really mean to. Just something in his head screamed mine. The moment Sawamura was about to pass him by.
Sawamura let himself be plopped into the seat, but immediately turned huffy, “What is the meaning of this Miyuki Kazuya!”
He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair, “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t strain your arm by flailing around like you usually do. Right, Ace?”
“Hmph, I don’t flail!” He mumbled the last part, “I’m just excited.”
Miyuki ran his fingers through Sawamura’s hair in a moment of weakness. Soft, he thought. Sawamura looked at him curiously, a little sunburnt right where his freckles were the most dense, Pretty. “Me too,” he responded quietly. Then firmer, “rest,” he ordered in his captain-y voice.
Sawamura relaxed into his touch and let his head fall against Miyuki’s shoulder.
*
Sawamura’s pitch landed sweetly in the pocket of his glove. He bit back the the compliment that formed on the tip of his tongue. If he complimented Sawamura every time he felt like it they’d never get anything done. “Five more,” he said instead.
Sawamura rearranged the dirt in front of him with the toe of his cleat like it was second nature, while pouting like it was his first, “Ten more,” he bargained.
“Ha?” Kuramochi snarled, “I have better things to do than play scarecrow all day for your crazy pitching.”
Sawamura gave Mochi his best puppy-dog face, “Mochi-senpai, I’m so close to perfecting this pitch,” he clasped his hands together, “please,” he begged.
Mochi pointed his bat at Sawamura, “Eh, that might work on your boyfriend, but it won’t work on me.”
The ball fell out of Miyuki’s glove.
Sawamura stomped his foot, “I told you Amahisa is not my boyfriend.”
Miyuki’s throat felt dry. He stood up slowly and tossed the ball back to Sawamura.
Mochi cackled like a witch, “Wow, ‘Mura you can’t even keep all their names straight; I was talking ‘bout Sanada,” he loosely swung his bat, “Or maybe even Narumiya since you seem to be collecting pitcher’s hearts like trading cards.”
“Sawamura,” He stole the pitcher’s attention back and crouched down. He punched the pocket of his glove a bit harder than necessary before signaling for a high and inside pitch.
They mirrored each other's devilish smirks and both doubled over laughing when Mochi flinched away from the pitch like it was out to get him. “This is the thanks I get for helping you practice?” Mochi fumed, cracking his knuckles.
“Oh calm down, I had him do a pitch he actually knows how to control for that one.” He lobbed the ball back with a wink.
Mochi shook his fist at Sawamura, “You’ll pay for that later, Bakamura.” Clearly not actually upset, he got back into position, “I know your phone's passcode. Disrespect me again and I'll start a group chat with all your boyfriends.”
“They aren’t my boyfriends!” Sawamura screeched at the same time Miyuki spit out, “Cut it out,” in a tone that was far too serious for what was clearly a joke.
Mochi blinked a few times, his grip on his bat loose as he looked at Miyuki like he had never seen him before. He composed himself after a moment, “Jeez, okay, I didn’t mean anything by it.” He looked sheepish, “I mean it wouldn’t be a problem if they were!” He said abruptly, probably thinking he had shoved his entire foot in his mouth.
“I would never date the enemy!” Sawamura vowed seriously.
There was a pause and then Mochi and Miyuki both started laughing so hard it bounced off the wall of the indoor practice building.
“Hey! I’m being serious!” He pouted.
Miyuki was breathless with an embarrassing amount of relief.
It evaporated when Kuramochi pointed out, “Oh, I see. So they have a shot once they graduate then, eh?” He ribbed.
Sawamura puffed his cheeks out and yelled, “I don’t know! Maybe!” His eyes briefly met Miyuki’s before dropping back to the ball in his hand.
“Ten more,” Miyuki ordered bluntly.
*
“What crawled up your ass?” Kuramochi shouted at him elegantly from across the cafeteria table. “You’re being even more of a dick than usual.”
“Oh really? That’s weird ‘cause your mom said she loves my-” Miyuki paused for effect, ‘ Personality.”
Instead of strangling him like Miyuki expected, Kuramochi did the much more annoying option of studying him with suspicious and exacting eyes. Miyuki tried not to fidget under his examination, “Seriously -as your vice captain I’m asking- what’s eating you?”
He swallowed, “Nothing.”
“Okay,” Kuramochi said much too lightly. They went back to eating in silence until Mochi spoke again, “So I was thinking-”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
Mochi ignored him, “Sawamura’s kinda cute. Maybe i’ll ask him out since I’m not “the enemy”-”
Miyuki snapped. He knocked his and Mochi’s trays to the ground as he lunged across the table and grabbed Kuramochi by the collar Sawamura style.
You could hear a pin drop as all of their teammates at the other tables looked over at them with shocked faces.
“I was kidding, idiot!” He laughed less because it was funny and more to cover for Miyuki and make it seem like nothing for the others to worry about.
Miyuki released his hold and quickly kneeled to clean up the mess he had made. He tried to ignore the confused muttering around him. Kuramochi joined him.
Miyuki slapped his hand away, “It’s my mess; I’ll clean it up.”
Mochi ignored him, and muttered, “Jeez, you two are so fucking dramatic,” as he scooped rice off the ground with his hands and shook his head.
He didn’t properly apologize to him until later at practice when they were paired up for cool down stretches “About earlier-” He thought this would be easier since he didn’t have to look at Kuramochi’s face while leaning on his back to deepen his stretch; it wasn’t.
Mochi sighed, “Yeah, yeah; apology accepted-” Miyuki felt relief wash over him, “ On one condition-” the relief vanished, “Deal with that green monster of yours.”
“Stay out of it, Mochi,” Miyuki warned.
He shrugged. “I wasn’t making that joke for no reason ya know.”
Miyuki pressed down harder.
“Aye, watch it.” Miyuki let up a little. “I may not be interested, but Sawamura is objectively…” He trailed off.
“Pretty.”
“Pretty,” Mochi confirmed uncomfortably.
Miyuki sat down heavily back to back with arguably his best friend, “ You think I don’t know that. ”
Mochi jostled him a little by pushing back against him, “Sawamura doesn’t, but it’s only a matter of time.”
Miyuki ran his hands over his face roughly. He groaned, “He’s so pretty; it’s not fair.”
“Ew,” Mochi supplied unhelpfully.
*
Miyuki was quietly seething at his desk pretending to study, while he listened to Okumura and Sawamura argue. The part that was bothering him, was that with each passing day their arguing sounded closer and closer to banter. When Okumura left to go practice his swing, he immediately felt his headache disappear, which almost made him feel guilty before he remembered who he was.
Sawamura reverted back to his routine of stealing Miyuki’s pillow and quietly reading his romance manga until his phone started buzzing. “Urgh,” He hid his face in the pillow like he was hiding from his own cell phone.
Miyuki glanced over and saw Sawamura kick his socked feet in agitation. “Care to explain why you are trying to smother yourself with a pillow in my dorm?”
He just groaned.
Miyuki threw a pencil at his butt, which bounced off, “You can’t die here, it’ll throw off my evening routine.”
Sawamura lifted his head up to glare at him, “How do you tell someone no?”
He felt off-balance immediately, he needed to know who had asked Sawamura what, “Like this,” he cleared his throat, “uh, no ,” he emphasized the ‘n’ comically.
‘I mean nicely! Nicely, Miyuki Kayzua, but I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that,” he turned his nose up at him.
Miyuki rolled his eyes, “Give me context. Context, Sawamura Eijun, but I guess you wouldn’t know what that means.”
He sat up and chucked his book at Miyuki’s head, which he caught easily despite the impressive power behind the throw. Miyuki chose to believe he threw it that hard, because he wasn’t worried Miyuki wouldn’t catch it. “I know what it means!’ He exhaled loudly through his nose, “My parents invited Amahisa to visit Nagano with me and he actually wants to.”
That feeling set him on fire again, but this time he acknowledged its name: jealousy. “When?” He grit out.
“Over our next break since there won’t be any practice scheduled-”
“Tell him you can’t have more than one guest at a time.”
Sawamura tilted his head, confused.
“You aren’t gonna leave your favorite senpai all alone are you? Hmm, Sa-wa-mu-ra?”
His brows scrunched together, even more baffled, “Chris-senpai is too busy to come visit.”
“Really, Sawamura,” he deadpanned, “No respect at all,” he shook his head. Miyuki would never admit it, but ouch.
He blinked a few times, “Oh you mean you,” he donned a thoughtful expression, “You’re my favorite catcher.”
Miyuki pursed his lips ready to haggle, “but not your favorite senpai? Where’s the justice in that?”
Sawamura looked down and drew random designs in the carpet with the tips of his fingers nervously, “When we’re like this I don’t think of you as my senpai, you’re just… you.”
The way he said you , so softly broke something in Miyuki, his common sense probably. He left his desk chair and was kneeling in front of Sawamura before he even decided to. He tilted Sawamura’s chin up to make him look into his eyes. He put his weight on his other hand so he could lean in close, closer than was polite. Sawamura’s lips parted in surprise, but he stayed still, “Favorite catcher, hmm?”
He nodded minutely, his wide eyes searching Miyuki’s for a sign, “Am I the prettiest one too?” he said, already knowing the answer.
His cheeks turned color like a drop of dye added to a bucket of water. He scrunched his lips into a pout, “I mean they call you the pretty boy catcher.”
“I didn’t ask what other people thought.”
“Looks aren’t everything you know.”
He grinned shamelessly, “That’s not what I asked either.”
Sawamura looked down, his long eyelashes cast shadows on his cheekbones. Miyuki tapped him under his chin to make him look at him again. Sawamura looked him dead in the eye like this was a challenge -maybe it was- and spoke much softer than his fiery gaze, “Yeah, you’re pretty.”
Miyuki laughed softly, he released Sawamura’s chin and cupped his soft cheek in his palm instead, his thumb brushing across his freckles, “I think you’re pretty too. Prettier than me.”
Sawamura swallowed, “Are you messing with me?”
He shook his head, their noses almost brushing against one another, “I’ll prove it.” He pressed his lips against Sawamura’s, just a brief peck, but he felt like he was just downed 20 espressos as we pulled back to gauge his reaction.
Sawamura grabbed him by the collar of his shirt -a bad sign- and started shaking him. Then abruptly he stopped.
Miyuki wasn’t sure when he had squeezed his eyes closed, but he cracked one open, “What was that for?”
Sawamura shook him again for good measure, “I COULD ASK YOU THE SAME THING, MIYUKI KAZUYA.”
He shrugged, “I won’t do it again if you hated it.” His voice wasn’t as even and devil-may-care as he wanted it to sound.
“I didn’t say I hated it,” he hedged.
Miyuki smirked, “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, “So you’re saying you want me to kiss you again?”
“MIYUKI KAZUYA!”
Okumura walking in on Sawamura shaking the life out of Miyuki was nothing new so he just stepped around them.
*
Let it be remembered, Miyuki Kazuya is a ruthless selfish greedy bastard that nine times out of ten got what he wanted.
With his hands on Sawamura’s shoulders, Miyuki moved him a little to the left, “Riiight there. Perfect,” he grinned.
Sawamura raised his eyebrows, “Shouldn’t we go sit with everyone? Are we gonna miss the end of the game? Why do I need to stand right here?” He started to look around and Miyuki distracted him with a finger under his chin guiding his gaze back to him.
“So many questions. When have I ever made you late?”
Sawamura started counting on his fingers, “Last thursday after lunch, the tuesday before that to afternoon practice, the movie we saw on-”
“Okay, okay, jeez, stop with the good memory.” Miyuki leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “I want you to kiss me.”
As expected, despite Miyuki stealing kisses from his new boyfriend for the last week, Sawamura still looked scandalized every time, especially when Miyuki asked permission beforehand. “Here?” he practically squeaked.
He nodded with a shit-eating grin.
Sawamura straightened up, “Okay, kiss me then,” he chirped, soaking up the attention.
Miyuki shook his head slowly, “Not what I asked for.”
Sawamura pouted, “You want me to kiss you first?”
“It’s only fair right?” He teased. A quick glance behind Sawamura told him it was almost time. He shrugged, “Unless you don’t want to.”
He bit his lip, “No, I want to!” He paused and added quietly, “Alot.”
“How about on the count of three,” he stalled, waiting for the right moment.
Sawamura nodded like that made sense, probably more focused on hyping himself up. Miyuki still didn’t understand what was so intimidating about kissing him first. When he asked, Sawamura just said it was his face. He tried to take that as a compliment.
They counted together, Sawamura’s face got redder with each number.
On three, Sawamura raised himself up on his tippy toes and pressed his lips delicately to Miyuki’s right as the Yakushi and Sankou teams left their respective locker rooms, each led by their Ace pitchers. Miyuki pulled Sawamura closer with an arm around his waist and deepened their kiss.
Sawamura gasped and wrapped his arms around Miyuki’s shoulders, completely distracted from the noise around them.
Miyuki threw a wink in Sanada and Amahisa’s direction, before focusing back on tasting every centimeter of his boyfriend’s mouth.