For bookshop, Fuji/Kaidoh, revenge.
Kaidoh slid open the door to the sleeping area. Stupid Momoshiro, telling everyone that Kaidoh was afraid of ghosts. Having to be around that asshole night and day was spoiling the whole training camp.
He dumped out the bag of rocks and twigs and started arranging them under Momoshiro's futon.
"If you pull the futon tight, it will be less obvious."
Kaidoh jumped and turned around, his heart racing. "Uh...Fuji-senpai...I was just..."
"You should put some in the pillow too." Fuji leaned over the futon, like he was inspecting Kaidoh's work.
"Senpai, are you going to tell any--"
"There's someone coming." Fuji grabbed Kaidoh by the shoulders, leaned up against him, and kissed him. Kissed him, on the mouth, in the mouth, his whole body pressed to Kaidoh's and his hands trailing down Kaidoh's back to cup his ass.
"It's Mamushi and Fuji-senpai!" Momoshiro yelled and flailed his arms. Kikumaru shrieked incoherently. And they both ran off.
Fuji let go. "There," he said. "I don't think they suspected anything."
Kaidoh staggered back, rubbing his mouth on the back of his hand and tingling all over in a very strange way.
"Dinner is in twenty minutes." Fuji waved.
Kaidoh hissed. Fuji had kissed him: that was bad. Momoshiro and Kikumaru had seen him: that was worse. Kaidoh touched his mouth again. But worst of all, he had liked it. What was he going to do?
"By the way," Fuji said, over his shoulder. "Next time you beat Yuuta at street tennis, let me know so I can come watch." He smiled and shut the door behind him.
Kaidoh threw himself down on the futon.
There were rocks in it.
For svz_insanity, Inui/Fuji, cooking.
Too Many Cooks
Inui put down the bowl. "Mitsuba."
"That's one." Fuji pushed another dish toward Inui.
Inui concentrated on the noodles. "Sansho," he said. "Very tasty."
"Two." Fuji's eyes narrowed. "But you won't get this one."
A Western dish, with cream sauce and-- "Chervil. Three." Inui smiled. "According to our agreement, you must--"
"There's no way you could tell that." Fuji's glance flicked around the room, stopping above the stove. He yanked out the camera and tossed it on the table. "Inui."
"The rules don't state I have to find out through tasting."
"Next time, I'll write the rules."
In the bedroom, Fuji tied Inui's hands to the bedframe, according to their agreement, but not before he'd ripped out the camera in the desk lamp.
"It was worth a try." Inui shivered as Fuji picked up the riding crop. The real camera was above the bed.
Inui retrieved the tape while Fuji was in the shower. Back at home, he settled down to watch it. His wrists still burned. Best session yet. He couldn't wait to see it.
"Hello and welcome to Play Like a Pro with Horio Satoshi. Today's lesson: improving your serve!"
Inui took his hand out of his pants.