Canon-typical verbal abuse/harrassment, emotional manipulation, but this is fluff I swear to god ~800 words
this is not at all what you meant and I am so sorry
-----
Abe's going off again: yelling at Mihashi for not taking care of himself, not eating enough. He's pacing the floor and making angry cutting motions with his hands as he speaks.
It's a familiar scene, and Mihashi has to admit he doesn't like it that much, getting yelled at. He knows it's Abe's way, but. He'd mentioned it to Tajima, who was good at solving problems, and equally as good at understanding him when he was too anxious to get full sentences out, which he had been when talking about someone he liked as much as Abe.
Abe is telling him how much the team needs him, but his tone is still angry and frustrated. Mihashi stares at the countertop, hunched over, fingering the gift from Tajima that's hidden in his lap. Every now and then he glances at Abe, because he knows Abe wants him to, but mostly he just mentally repeats the things Tajima told him—not until he finishes, just do it once, it might take some time before it works—and waits.
Eventually Abe stops talking. His cheeks are red as he stares at Mihashi, his eyes dark with temper and worry in equal measure. Mihashi just watches him, one hand covering his mouth, the other fiddling with the gift underneath the table.
Then, before Abe can speak again, Mihashi presses on the plastic object in his hand. It sounds once, clearly. Click.
Abe's mouth is open, but he blinks at the noise. Then his mouth closes. Mihashi's eyes widen.
"What was that?" he asks.
"Y-you're a good catcher," Mihashi says, not an answer.
The slight flush in Abe's cheeks changes to a brilliant crimson. "What are you talking about? Where did that come from?" he says. But he doesn't yell any more after that. Mihashi finally slips upstairs when Abe starts cooking dinner (You have to eat two helpings of this, he says in a voice that's only faintly grumpy, you can't starve yourself,) and leans against the railing, feeling like he's just won the first game of the season.
"It works," he mumbles to himself. "It really—works."
--
He'd read all about it on the internet, after Tajima first introduced the concept. It was normally used on animals, but Tajima said, Humans are just another kind of animal! Besides, we do all kinds of training like this to get better at baseball, right?
Clicker training. It's a method of positive reinforcement (See? It won't hurt him at all!) used to train animals to start wanted behaviors, or more importantly, stop unwanted ones. Like barking. Or shouting.
Abe hadn't yelled at him for the past few days, but Mihashi kept the clicker in his pocket just in case, like a token for good luck.
--
Abe kisses him a week later. It's kind of sudden: they're standing on the back porch, with the sun filtering through the leaves to leave dappled patterns on Abe's clenched fists. Mihashi holds his breath, startled at the feeling of Abe's lips on his. They're not very soft, but they're insistent in a familiar way. It reminds him of Abe's calls, the way he leads Mihashi on the field.
He decides he likes it. He decides to kiss back.
But before he can, Abe pulls back and his eyes dart to the ground. His lips are thinned, his shoulders hunched. Mihashi is intimately acquainted with distress, and knows what it would look like on another person. He can't bear to see Abe like that, not after he did something so nice.
Click, goes the clicker in Mihashi's pocket.
Abe's eyes shoot up. "I heard that before," he says. "Is that you? What are you doing?"
Abe's starting to loom over him, his earlier hesitance transformed into irritation. Tajima said to only use it for positive reinforcement, so he can't use it now. Instead, he stammers out: "C-clicker...training."
Abe's eyes narrow. "You're doing clicker training? On me?"
"I don't like it when you shout—" the words tumble out of his mouth in a nervous rush. Abe stops short. Then more quietly Mihashi says, "...And I like—it when you k-kiss me."
Now they're both red. Mihashi doesn't need to look into a mirror to confirm that fact—he can feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. Abe is watching him, still standing in his personal space. "You like it when I kiss you," he repeats. Mihashi nods, squeezing his eyes shut with embarrassment.
He flinches when he feels Abe's rough fingertips swipe across his mouth. "Does that mean I can kiss you again?" Abe murmurs.
Mihashi nods and nods and nods.
Abe's hand alights upon his shoulder, and Mihashi freezes mid-nod, his chin still tilted slightly upward. Abe leans in to kiss him again, and Mihashi's fingers loosen from their grip around the clicker in his pocket.
"This was Tajima's idea, wasn't it," he whispers against Mihashi's mouth.
"Kiss me again," Mihashi demands, heedless, breathless.
Abe rolls his eyes, but it's fond. "I could get used to being bossed around like that," he says, already leaning in again.
FILL: Team Chihayafuru, G
~800 words
this is not at all what you meant and I am so sorry
-----
Abe's going off again: yelling at Mihashi for not taking care of himself, not eating enough. He's pacing the floor and making angry cutting motions with his hands as he speaks.
It's a familiar scene, and Mihashi has to admit he doesn't like it that much, getting yelled at. He knows it's Abe's way, but. He'd mentioned it to Tajima, who was good at solving problems, and equally as good at understanding him when he was too anxious to get full sentences out, which he had been when talking about someone he liked as much as Abe.
Abe is telling him how much the team needs him, but his tone is still angry and frustrated. Mihashi stares at the countertop, hunched over, fingering the gift from Tajima that's hidden in his lap. Every now and then he glances at Abe, because he knows Abe wants him to, but mostly he just mentally repeats the things Tajima told him—not until he finishes, just do it once, it might take some time before it works—and waits.
Eventually Abe stops talking. His cheeks are red as he stares at Mihashi, his eyes dark with temper and worry in equal measure. Mihashi just watches him, one hand covering his mouth, the other fiddling with the gift underneath the table.
Then, before Abe can speak again, Mihashi presses on the plastic object in his hand. It sounds once, clearly. Click.
Abe's mouth is open, but he blinks at the noise. Then his mouth closes. Mihashi's eyes widen.
"What was that?" he asks.
"Y-you're a good catcher," Mihashi says, not an answer.
The slight flush in Abe's cheeks changes to a brilliant crimson. "What are you talking about? Where did that come from?" he says. But he doesn't yell any more after that. Mihashi finally slips upstairs when Abe starts cooking dinner (You have to eat two helpings of this, he says in a voice that's only faintly grumpy, you can't starve yourself,) and leans against the railing, feeling like he's just won the first game of the season.
"It works," he mumbles to himself. "It really—works."
--
He'd read all about it on the internet, after Tajima first introduced the concept. It was normally used on animals, but Tajima said, Humans are just another kind of animal! Besides, we do all kinds of training like this to get better at baseball, right?
Clicker training. It's a method of positive reinforcement (See? It won't hurt him at all!) used to train animals to start wanted behaviors, or more importantly, stop unwanted ones. Like barking. Or shouting.
Abe hadn't yelled at him for the past few days, but Mihashi kept the clicker in his pocket just in case, like a token for good luck.
--
Abe kisses him a week later. It's kind of sudden: they're standing on the back porch, with the sun filtering through the leaves to leave dappled patterns on Abe's clenched fists. Mihashi holds his breath, startled at the feeling of Abe's lips on his. They're not very soft, but they're insistent in a familiar way. It reminds him of Abe's calls, the way he leads Mihashi on the field.
He decides he likes it. He decides to kiss back.
But before he can, Abe pulls back and his eyes dart to the ground. His lips are thinned, his shoulders hunched. Mihashi is intimately acquainted with distress, and knows what it would look like on another person. He can't bear to see Abe like that, not after he did something so nice.
Click, goes the clicker in Mihashi's pocket.
Abe's eyes shoot up. "I heard that before," he says. "Is that you? What are you doing?"
Abe's starting to loom over him, his earlier hesitance transformed into irritation. Tajima said to only use it for positive reinforcement, so he can't use it now. Instead, he stammers out: "C-clicker...training."
Abe's eyes narrow. "You're doing clicker training? On me?"
"I don't like it when you shout—" the words tumble out of his mouth in a nervous rush. Abe stops short. Then more quietly Mihashi says, "...And I like—it when you k-kiss me."
Now they're both red. Mihashi doesn't need to look into a mirror to confirm that fact—he can feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. Abe is watching him, still standing in his personal space. "You like it when I kiss you," he repeats. Mihashi nods, squeezing his eyes shut with embarrassment.
He flinches when he feels Abe's rough fingertips swipe across his mouth. "Does that mean I can kiss you again?" Abe murmurs.
Mihashi nods and nods and nods.
Abe's hand alights upon his shoulder, and Mihashi freezes mid-nod, his chin still tilted slightly upward. Abe leans in to kiss him again, and Mihashi's fingers loosen from their grip around the clicker in his pocket.
"This was Tajima's idea, wasn't it," he whispers against Mihashi's mouth.
"Kiss me again," Mihashi demands, heedless, breathless.
Abe rolls his eyes, but it's fond. "I could get used to being bossed around like that," he says, already leaning in again.