Ship: Inui Sadaharu/Takigawa Chris Yuu Fandom: The Prince of Tennis & Daiya no Ace Major Tags: mention of sexual content (unintentional groping) Other Tags: nerd fights, feelings of inadequacy, possible caffeine overdose, all thumbs ups are gay now Word Count: 1024
***
A silence falls over the marker space, despite the hum of desktop towers and idling 3D printers. Inui’s fingers pause over his keyboard almost without his knowledge, as if in respect for the silence, but Inui only frowns.
He looks up to see the crowd within the multimedia space parting, a slight murmur coming from the fringes. Just moments ago it had been abuzz with the sounds of introductions and half-formed plans being slung around, everyone trying to cover their bases before the challenge began in earnest.
The game jam crowd was nothing if not cliquish, everyone wanting to boast the best team, and if you want the best coder then, well… there are two options.
Takigawa Chris Yuu stands in the middle of the hushed crowd, the multimedia cube currently glowing a hot gold, and making him seem more godly than he normally does. He’s staring at Inui, and unless Inui has missed his calculations, he’s probably fighting off a twinge of embarrassment at pulling the attention of an entire gaggle of nerds. Inui, feeling the pull of obligation, stands and saunters over to his fated rival.
“Inui.”
“Takigawa.”
They stare at each other, eyes only stopped from locking due to Inui’s heavily film protected glasses.
Chris smirks, and Inui doesn’t return it.
There will be a war now, over the next few hours that determines the fate of the next 48. Inui isn’t concerned.
He’ll have the winning team.
Twelve hours in, Inui’s fingers are already starting to go numb. The designers and sprite artists on his team quibble over semantics, but Inui hasn’t paused to take their concerns into account. Their game needs to function and that’s the only part he concerns himself with.
He takes a break, after some prodding, and wanders until he’s found himself in the tiled area leading to the bathrooms. There’s a long plastic table, stacked high with the latest in the line of energy drinks that are sponsoring the challenge. Inui knows that they will be sickly, tangy swill, because the base components never change, but he finds himself reaching for one anyway.
A hand brushes his on the way to the same hand, and Inui recoils in shock.
Chris gives him another smile and grabs the can they we’re both reaching for, but in an act of charity, offers it to Inui.
Inui takes it, glaring at him.
Chris grabs a different can — a neon green to the bright pink of Inui’s — and pops it open with a hiss. “So, how goes it?”
Inui tilts his head.
Chris blinks at him. “What language are you coding your game in? We had some debates at first about what would provide the best stability, but…”
Inui pops his can open, the hiss distracting Chris. Inui makes eye contact and starts pounding the drink back, unresponsive to the clearly probing question.
Chris looks a bit impressed at the commitment. Inui doesn’t stop until the can is drained. He tries to crush it to make a point, but only dents it slightly.
Chris shrugs. “If you don’t want friendly banter, fine. Have it your way.”
Inui watches him walk away, and feels a little dizzy, but that could just be the 200 milligrams of caffeine hitting his system all at once.
At the 36 hour mark, Inui finds himself sleep-deprived and jittery and comes up with the brilliant idea to sneak into the little used sound recording booth in the back to sleep. It's soundproof and most people forget about it to the point of assuming it's a closet.
It's only after flopping down in the dark wrapped in a blanket that he realizes he's not alone.
There's a yelp and tangling of limbs and some unintentional groping that Inui strives to forget the moment it happens, but in the pitch dark it's hard to get a good read on the situation.
There's a hand on his forehead, palm digging into his glasses, when his companion speaks. “Great minds think alike, huh?”
Inui sputters, recognizing that voice anywhere. He goes to push himself up and leave, but a hand grabs him.
“Hey,” Chris says, and Inui can almost imagine his features softening. “I wasn't kicking you out.”
Inui pauses. He considers this for a moment before finally settling down, trying to put a few calculated inches between them in the cramped space.
“Why do you hate me so much anyway?”
Inui looks up at that, as useless as the gesture is. “I don't…”
“Clearly you do.”
Inui presses his lips into a thin line before sighing. “You're… if someone were to make an improved version of me, it would be you. It is… hard not to feel the urge to overcome that.”
Chris hummed. “I see… you feel like I'm Intel and you're AMD.”
Inui clenched his jaw. “If we are going to continue cohabitating this sound booth, it would be best if we don't bring up hardware disagreements”
“Fair enough.”
Inui would have been content to leave it at that, but soon he felt Chris’s arm sliding over his chest.
“There's not much room and I'm not going to be able to sleep cramped up against the wall,” Chris explained.
Inui tried to argue, but the warmth of the body next to him swayed him.
“Besides, I'm not your superior,” Chris muttered, dangerously close to whispering in Inui’s ear, to the point that goosebumps were forming on his neck. “In the end, a processor is a processor.”
Inui drifted off thinking about that, scooting closer into the warmth of Chris’s body.
At the presentation the next day, Inui knew everyone was weighing and judging the two “lead teams” against each other, but Inui wasn't thinking about that anymore. His team stood at the podium ready to present, and Inui readied himself to hide behind the designers and hopefully say nothing for his part.
Out in the crowd, Chris was still glowing lightly without the aid of the multimedia presentation lights, only by the merit of his smile.
He flashed Inui a thumbs up, and Inui, a bit giddy, returned it.
FILL: Team Prince of Tennis, T
Fandom: The Prince of Tennis & Daiya no Ace
Major Tags: mention of sexual content (unintentional groping)
Other Tags: nerd fights, feelings of inadequacy, possible caffeine overdose, all thumbs ups are gay now
Word Count: 1024
***
A silence falls over the marker space, despite the hum of desktop towers and idling 3D printers. Inui’s fingers pause over his keyboard almost without his knowledge, as if in respect for the silence, but Inui only frowns.
He looks up to see the crowd within the multimedia space parting, a slight murmur coming from the fringes. Just moments ago it had been abuzz with the sounds of introductions and half-formed plans being slung around, everyone trying to cover their bases before the challenge began in earnest.
The game jam crowd was nothing if not cliquish, everyone wanting to boast the best team, and if you want the best coder then, well… there are two options.
Takigawa Chris Yuu stands in the middle of the hushed crowd, the multimedia cube currently glowing a hot gold, and making him seem more godly than he normally does. He’s staring at Inui, and unless Inui has missed his calculations, he’s probably fighting off a twinge of embarrassment at pulling the attention of an entire gaggle of nerds. Inui, feeling the pull of obligation, stands and saunters over to his fated rival.
“Inui.”
“Takigawa.”
They stare at each other, eyes only stopped from locking due to Inui’s heavily film protected glasses.
Chris smirks, and Inui doesn’t return it.
There will be a war now, over the next few hours that determines the fate of the next 48. Inui isn’t concerned.
He’ll have the winning team.
Twelve hours in, Inui’s fingers are already starting to go numb. The designers and sprite artists on his team quibble over semantics, but Inui hasn’t paused to take their concerns into account. Their game needs to function and that’s the only part he concerns himself with.
He takes a break, after some prodding, and wanders until he’s found himself in the tiled area leading to the bathrooms. There’s a long plastic table, stacked high with the latest in the line of energy drinks that are sponsoring the challenge. Inui knows that they will be sickly, tangy swill, because the base components never change, but he finds himself reaching for one anyway.
A hand brushes his on the way to the same hand, and Inui recoils in shock.
Chris gives him another smile and grabs the can they we’re both reaching for, but in an act of charity, offers it to Inui.
Inui takes it, glaring at him.
Chris grabs a different can — a neon green to the bright pink of Inui’s — and pops it open with a hiss. “So, how goes it?”
Inui tilts his head.
Chris blinks at him. “What language are you coding your game in? We had some debates at first about what would provide the best stability, but…”
Inui pops his can open, the hiss distracting Chris. Inui makes eye contact and starts pounding the drink back, unresponsive to the clearly probing question.
Chris looks a bit impressed at the commitment. Inui doesn’t stop until the can is drained. He tries to crush it to make a point, but only dents it slightly.
Chris shrugs. “If you don’t want friendly banter, fine. Have it your way.”
Inui watches him walk away, and feels a little dizzy, but that could just be the 200 milligrams of caffeine hitting his system all at once.
At the 36 hour mark, Inui finds himself sleep-deprived and jittery and comes up with the brilliant idea to sneak into the little used sound recording booth in the back to sleep. It's soundproof and most people forget about it to the point of assuming it's a closet.
It's only after flopping down in the dark wrapped in a blanket that he realizes he's not alone.
There's a yelp and tangling of limbs and some unintentional groping that Inui strives to forget the moment it happens, but in the pitch dark it's hard to get a good read on the situation.
There's a hand on his forehead, palm digging into his glasses, when his companion speaks. “Great minds think alike, huh?”
Inui sputters, recognizing that voice anywhere. He goes to push himself up and leave, but a hand grabs him.
“Hey,” Chris says, and Inui can almost imagine his features softening. “I wasn't kicking you out.”
Inui pauses. He considers this for a moment before finally settling down, trying to put a few calculated inches between them in the cramped space.
“Why do you hate me so much anyway?”
Inui looks up at that, as useless as the gesture is. “I don't…”
“Clearly you do.”
Inui presses his lips into a thin line before sighing. “You're… if someone were to make an improved version of me, it would be you. It is… hard not to feel the urge to overcome that.”
Chris hummed. “I see… you feel like I'm Intel and you're AMD.”
Inui clenched his jaw. “If we are going to continue cohabitating this sound booth, it would be best if we don't bring up hardware disagreements”
“Fair enough.”
Inui would have been content to leave it at that, but soon he felt Chris’s arm sliding over his chest.
“There's not much room and I'm not going to be able to sleep cramped up against the wall,” Chris explained.
Inui tried to argue, but the warmth of the body next to him swayed him.
“Besides, I'm not your superior,” Chris muttered, dangerously close to whispering in Inui’s ear, to the point that goosebumps were forming on his neck. “In the end, a processor is a processor.”
Inui drifted off thinking about that, scooting closer into the warmth of Chris’s body.
At the presentation the next day, Inui knew everyone was weighing and judging the two “lead teams” against each other, but Inui wasn't thinking about that anymore. His team stood at the podium ready to present, and Inui readied himself to hide behind the designers and hopefully say nothing for his part.
Out in the crowd, Chris was still glowing lightly without the aid of the multimedia presentation lights, only by the merit of his smile.
He flashed Inui a thumbs up, and Inui, a bit giddy, returned it.