Kaidoh finished his homework twenty minutes ago and Inui is still at his computer. Kaidoh has a book of puzzles Inui gave him, to improve his brain, and a mechanical pencil without any lead. Inui has a stack of paper on the desk beside him and the light from the monitor washes out his face, making it even paler.
Don't work so hard, Kaidoh wants to say. He wants to snatch the paper away, push it through the shredder, turn off the computer. No matter how much time Kaidoh puts in, how much effort, how much pain, Inui goes two steps further, and it's beginning to show in the blisters on his hand and the circles under his eyes.
Inui types and Kaidoh watches him, eyes on his back, on his hands moving over the keyboard. Kaidoh should pack his things and go. He should leave Inui alone to get his work done. But he stays, turning the pencil between his fingers, and wishing something, only he doesn't know quite what.
The clack of the keys stops and Inui stretches out his arms, above his head, then to the sides, the muscles in his back shifting underneath his shirt. The wish presses hard underneath Kaidoh's breastbone, trying to find a way out. He drops the pencil on the floor. Inui starts typing again.
Kaidoh moves, he's not sure how it happens, it's like a jump cut in a movie, and it ends with him standing behind Inui's chair, with his hands on Inui's shoulders.
Inui stops typing. "Kaidoh?" he says. Kaidoh hisses once, before he can stop himself. Then he presses his thumbs into Inui's back. The muscles are knotted and Kaidoh digs deeper, trying to push out the tension and fatigue. Inui slumps a bit and Kaidoh rubs the base of his neck, the spots beneath his shoulder-blades, working his fingers harder as he feels Inui relax.
It's odd to see Inui from above. Kaidoh wonders, like he does sometimes, if Inui does his hair like this or if it's just how he wakes up. There's a place near the crown where his hair parts a little and there's a faint line on his scalp that looks like an old scar.
"Senpai," Kaidoh says, hands still on Inui's shoulders, "do you have any pencil lead?" And the pressure inside him breaks, and he knows what he wants. He wants to pull Inui off the stool, pull him close, feel the tightness of his body, the wet of his mouth.
The shock of it stops Kaidoh. His body won't move, except for his heart knocking against his ribs. "Senpai," he says again and the word almost chokes him.
And Inui leans his head back against Kaidoh.
Heat spreads out over Kaidoh's chest like Tiger Balm on his skin. He doesn't know what to do with his hands: leave them or pull them away? Inui is resting against him like maybe he likes it and if Kaidoh dropped down to his knees he could put his head on Inui's shoulder.
"Kaidoh," Inui says. Kaidoh jumps back, face burning and hands clenched. "I, um--" Inui coughs. "What size of pencil lead do you need?" He yanks his desk drawer and it comes all the way out, pens and paperclips and a mousetrap scattering over the floor. "Fuck," Inui says and scrambles after them.
Kaidoh picks up paperclips and pours them into Inui's palm. He wants to ask about the mousetrap. He wants to ask about the scar.
"The lead. I have--" Inui slides the drawer back in. "--0.35 millimetre, 0.5, and 0.7. They're all HB. I think my dad has some 0.5 millimetre F. Or we could go out to the stationery store."
"Um..." Kaidoh checks his pencil and takes the 0.5 millimetre. "Thank you." He fills the pencil. He tries to do a number link puzzle but all he can think about are Inui's shoulders under his hands and Inui's head against his chest. He can still feel it on his skin, in the air around him. He looks up.
Inui looks away.
Kaidoh's skin prickles and the air around him prickles and there's a flush along the tops of Inui's cheeks. Kaidoh pushes his puzzle book and pencil into his bag. "Senpai," he says and jumps to his feet.
"Did you want an eraser?" Inui says.
Kaidoh knows what he wants but he doesn't know what to say. "Let's," he says instead, and picks up Inui's racquet and hands it to him. "Let's play tennis."
Inui stands there for a few moments, swinging the racquet gently like maybe he doesn't know he's doing it. Then he smiles. "Let's."
eta: longleggedgit recently posted some InuKai massage fic too: Pressure Sensitivity. One more and I think we can call it theme week. :)