We're Havin' a Heat Wave by Halrloprillalar
Prince of Tennis, MomoKai, R, 1600 words.
The temperature's rising, it isn't surprising.
It's thirty-six degrees Celsius and the aircon is broken. Thirty-six outside, anyway, according to the radio. Inside Momoshiro's bedroom, Kaidoh's best guess is: really fucking hot.
Kaidoh takes a drink. The beer was cold when they brought it up here; now it's lukewarm at best. It's wet, though, and right now, that's something. Momoshiro holds out his hand and Kaidoh passes over the can. Condensation rolls off of it and down his wrist. It's cool for a moment and then it's gone.
Time is slower in the heat. They have been here for hours, it seems, but it has only been thirty minutes, according to the radio. Kaidoh stretches out on the floor and his limbs are heavy and slow.
Momoshiro reaches out and waves the can around vaguely. His eyes are closed and there are dark stains on his t-shirt, liquid seeping out of him faster than he can take it in. Kaidoh rescues the beer before it slips out of Momoshiro's grasp. He tips it up, but there's only a trickle left and half of it runs down his chin. Kaidoh licks at his bottom lip and tastes salt underneath the beer.
He doesn't really like beer that much anyhow. It's thin and bitter and makes his mouth feel dry. And they never get enough to do more than tease them. Kaidoh's cousin tells him that when he was Kaidoh's age, there was beer everywhere in vending machines. Those are few and far between now. This beer belongs to Momoshiro's father and every time he takes some, Momoshiro spends five minutes deciding how many he can snitch without them being missed. It's never more than three.
Anyhow, they're not really here to drink.
"It's so hot," Momoshiro says and lies back beside Kaidoh. "I'm melting."
Kaidoh doesn't say anything. Most of Momoshiro's conversation is just stating the obvious and Kaidoh doesn't feel the need to do the same. And they're not here to talk, either.
"Your aircon is working, right?"
"My family is home." The last thing Kaidoh wants to do is take Momoshiro home with him. Home is quiet, Momoshiro is noisy. Home is calm, Momoshiro is twitchy. Home is Kaidoh's space and he doesn't want to let Momoshiro into it, not even if they wouldn't get caught.
"We could just sit there. At least we'd be out of the heat." Momoshiro wipes his forehead on the front of his t-shirt, then pulls it off altogether. "I mean, it's too hot here to do anything."
"Shut up." Kaidoh doesn't want to talk about what they do here, especially when they are not actually doing it. "It's too hot to talk."
"You're not even talking." Momoshiro picks up the beer can, puts it back down. "Is it too hot to listen?"
It is, but if Kaidoh said so, that would be talking. He hisses instead and stares at the ceiling.
"We could go down to the bathroom and sit under the shower. The water is cold, anyhow."
"No," Kaidoh says. It's too hot to think, but he can't help thinking anyway, about the cool water running down over them while they kiss, while they move against each other. His breath catches in his throat and he covers it up with a cough.
"You're no fun," Momoshiro says and lies back down, arms behind his head. "No fun at all. Why are you even here?"
"You didn't tell me your aircon was broken." Kaidoh looks over. Sweat is beading on Momoshiro's belly, threatening to spill down into his navel. Kaidoh pulls his own shirt over his head and mops his skin with it before tossing it aside. His head is bare; his bandana went two minutes after he got inside. His hair is down over the nape of his neck and it's wet through. Maybe he should get it all cut off, clipped close to his head before Nationals.
Momoshiro rolls over, his back to Kaidoh, and rummages under his bed. He comes out with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. It takes him three tries before the flame clicks to life.
"What the hell are you doing?" Kaidoh says.
The cigarette flares, but then goes out. Momoshiro works the lighter again and gets it going. He sucks on the cigarette and blows smoke into the air. "What does it look like?"
"Idiot, that will take your breath." Kaidoh can't believe Momoshiro is being quite this stupid. "Do you want to lose at Nationals?"
"I wanted to try it, okay?" Momoshiro lets more smoke out of his mouth. "It's all right if you don't inhale."
Kaidoh's parents don't smoke and he's never quite got used to the smell. "It's stupid and disgusting."
"You're boring and annoying."
"You're the annoying one." The room was already stifling and now the smoke is hanging in the air. "Won't you get caught?"
"How will they know?" Momoshiro takes another drag. The smoke curls around his head, spiraling up towards the ceiling.
"The smell, you idiot."
"Shit." Momoshiro takes the cigarette out of his mouth and stares at it. A bit of ash drops off the end and onto his stomach. "Shit!" He brushes wildly at it with both hands. The cigarette falls from his fingers and onto the floor. "Shit!"
Kaidoh picks it up and drops it into an empty beer can. It smoulders there for a minute before it goes out. There's a scorch mark on the floor. "Dumbass."
"I'll just tell them it was you." Momoshiro grins. "You're a bad influence on me."
"Shut up, Momoshiro. You're the bad influence."
"So you admit I'm an influence?"
"I admit you're an asshole."
"So unfriendly," Momoshiro says. "When I'm trying so hard to be nice to you." He rolls up onto his side and looks down at Kaidoh. "It's not easy."
"Nobody asked you to be nice." Momoshiro's hair is wilting in the heat, even though he seems to spend all his time putting wax in it. Kaidoh can smell the perfume of it and the beer and the cigarette. "Your breath is terrible. Get away." Kaidoh puts his hand on Momoshiro's chest and pushes. Momoshiro topples over and an empty can rolls across the room.
Kaidoh's palm is wet from Momoshiro's skin. He wipes it on his shorts. It's too hot to touch. But Kaidoh wants to anyway. That's why they're here.
"Jeez, Mamushi," Momoshiro says. "What's so bad about my breath?"
"You smell like an ashtray."
"Really?" Momoshiro rolls up again and breathes into Kaidoh's face. Kaidoh pushes at him, but Momoshiro is braced this time. "How do I taste?" And he kisses Kaidoh.
Kaidoh turns his face away. "Foul," he says. "Asshole."
"You're not so delicious either," Momoshiro says and kisses Kaidoh again. It is foul, but Kaidoh can't help opening his mouth to it. Momoshiro's mouth is wet and bitter and dirty with smoke. It sends a tremor over Kaidoh's body, just like always.
Kaidoh grabs Momoshiro's wrist. He shifts his weight and they roll together until Kaidoh is on top. They lie on the floor, pressed close together, kissing in the unbearable heat.
Momoshiro moves his head. "Get off me," he says and heaves, but without much effort. Kaidoh shifts so that he's straddling Momoshiro's hips. He takes Momoshiro's other wrist and presses them both against the floor. "Jerk," Momoshiro says.
"Weakling." Kaidoh likes holding Momoshiro down like this. Momoshiro relaxes and Kaidoh wonders if he's given up. It's an effort to move at all. Kaidoh counts to five, then leans down for another terrible kiss. Momoshiro jerks and throws Kaidoh off.
"Like I'd lose to you," he says and tries to pin Kaidoh to the floor. They scuffle together, the air so heavy around them it feels like liquid. Their skin is slippery, Kaidoh's hands slide off of Momoshiro's chest, he can't get a grip on Momoshiro's arms. They bang into the wardrobe and the scuffle turns into humping, bucking against each other on a pile of Momoshiro's dirty laundry, trying to get off.
"Wait." Kaidoh pushes Momoshiro back and their bare skin clings for a second as they pull apart. "Come on." They sit instead, facing each other, legs hooked over, and jack each other. Their foreheads press together. Their hands move, not quite in the same rhythm. Kaidoh tries to breathe in at the same time as Momoshiro, to avoid smelling his breath.
Sweat runs down Kaidoh's back. Momoshiro pants out loud. He is made of noise, voice groaning, body thrashing. Kaidoh puts one hand over Momoshiro's mouth before he remembers nobody is home to hear them.
The room spins, Kaidoh's eyes close, a wind rushes through him, and he comes. For a moment, he doesn't even feel the heat. Then he sucks air into his lungs, almost choking on it, and finishes Momoshiro off, grabbing at his shoulder, letting him make all the noise he wants.
Then they're done, awkward as always and much stickier than usual. Momoshiro has tissues to mop up the jizz, but the sweat is beyond them. Momoshiro is leaning against the wardrobe, Kaidoh lying back on the floor, waiting until they can look at each other again.
According to the radio, there's a fire downtown.
"It's so hot," Momoshiro says. And it's true.
Kaidoh doesn't have much energy left, but he pulls together what he has and stands. "I'm going home." He picks up his shirt and puts it on.
Momoshiro is watching him with half-closed eyes. His face is flushed and there's a new scratch on his shoulder. He stretches and yawns. "You're no fun," he says.
"Dumbass." Kaidoh picks up Momoshiro's t-shirt and throws it in his face. "Come on," he says. "Our aircon is working."
If it heated you up or cooled you down, let me know. :)