Ship: Midousuji/Onoda Fandom: Yowamushi Pedal Major Tags: tags omitted Other Tags: tags omitted Word Count: 465 words
Yes, Onoda’s mother calls him Akira. Shh. That’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. XD Really soft fluffy MidoSaka with a little background angst.
***
“Oh, you really don’t have to help!” Mrs. Onoda said, fluttering around the sink helplessly as Midousuji filled up the sink with hot, soapy water. “Please, you’re our guest, Akira, why don’t you and Sakamichi just go upstairs and play? Or watch your anime?”
“I’ll do the dishes first,” Midousuji said, hoping the flush on his cheeks would be taken for the result of the heat in the kitchen. “You spent a long time cooking for us. Let us do this.”
“Akira’s right,” Onoda chimed in loyally. He kissed his mother on one round cheek and gently pushed her in the direction of the living room, “Go rest! At least let us do this.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” His mother wavered but at last smiled at the two of them as she gave in. “What a nice boy you are, Akira.”
She retreated to the living room, leaving Midousuji and Onoda alone. Midousuji would’ve hissed if anyone else called him nice but coming from Onoda’s mouth, he flushed a little hotter and ducked his head.
“I’ll dry them,” Onoda said helpfully as he joined Midousuji at the sink, picking up a dish cloth and waiting for the first dish to be passed over.
“Okay,” Midousuji said, attacking the first dish with a sponge.
“She’s right, though. You are nice.” Onoda leaned over and kissed Midousuji’s cheek, nearly making the dish slip from Midousuji’s suddenly-nerveless fingers.
“I am not!” He scowled at Onoda even as he passed the dish over to him. “I’m just used to washing dishes.”
Sympathy touched Onoda’s eyes, making the soft corners of his mouth turn down. “Does your aunt make you do all the housework?”
“No. I take turns with my cousins.” His aunt wasn’t a bad person. She didn’t treat him like free labor, even if she didn’t love him. Midousuji scowled again and went to work on a second dish. “...My mother couldn’t do much work even before she went to hospital. So I learnt to wash the dishes and clothes and keep the house tidy.”
“Oh,” Onoda said and Midousuji knew he was thinking of how young Midousuji had been in the few photos there were of him with his mother.
To stop Onoda pitying him, Midousuji elbowed him (gently, for all that padding, Onoda was still fragile in Midousuji’s eyes) and said cockily, “You’re getting a real catch, Sakamichi. I can keep the house and scare off all your enemies.”
“I don’t have enemies, Akira,” Onoda said with a laugh as he put the dried dish down and accepted the second one. “Everyone is my friend.”
And the part that puzzled Midousuji the most was that it was true. Everyone loved Onoda and yet it was him that Onoda had chosen to love.
FILL: Team The Prince of Tennis, T
Fandom: Yowamushi Pedal
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Word Count: 465 words
Yes, Onoda’s mother calls him Akira. Shh. That’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. XD Really soft fluffy MidoSaka with a little background angst.
***
“Oh, you really don’t have to help!” Mrs. Onoda said, fluttering around the sink helplessly as Midousuji filled up the sink with hot, soapy water. “Please, you’re our guest, Akira, why don’t you and Sakamichi just go upstairs and play? Or watch your anime?”
“I’ll do the dishes first,” Midousuji said, hoping the flush on his cheeks would be taken for the result of the heat in the kitchen. “You spent a long time cooking for us. Let us do this.”
“Akira’s right,” Onoda chimed in loyally. He kissed his mother on one round cheek and gently pushed her in the direction of the living room, “Go rest! At least let us do this.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” His mother wavered but at last smiled at the two of them as she gave in. “What a nice boy you are, Akira.”
She retreated to the living room, leaving Midousuji and Onoda alone. Midousuji would’ve hissed if anyone else called him nice but coming from Onoda’s mouth, he flushed a little hotter and ducked his head.
“I’ll dry them,” Onoda said helpfully as he joined Midousuji at the sink, picking up a dish cloth and waiting for the first dish to be passed over.
“Okay,” Midousuji said, attacking the first dish with a sponge.
“She’s right, though. You are nice.” Onoda leaned over and kissed Midousuji’s cheek, nearly making the dish slip from Midousuji’s suddenly-nerveless fingers.
“I am not!” He scowled at Onoda even as he passed the dish over to him. “I’m just used to washing dishes.”
Sympathy touched Onoda’s eyes, making the soft corners of his mouth turn down. “Does your aunt make you do all the housework?”
“No. I take turns with my cousins.” His aunt wasn’t a bad person. She didn’t treat him like free labor, even if she didn’t love him. Midousuji scowled again and went to work on a second dish. “...My mother couldn’t do much work even before she went to hospital. So I learnt to wash the dishes and clothes and keep the house tidy.”
“Oh,” Onoda said and Midousuji knew he was thinking of how young Midousuji had been in the few photos there were of him with his mother.
To stop Onoda pitying him, Midousuji elbowed him (gently, for all that padding, Onoda was still fragile in Midousuji’s eyes) and said cockily, “You’re getting a real catch, Sakamichi. I can keep the house and scare off all your enemies.”
“I don’t have enemies, Akira,” Onoda said with a laugh as he put the dried dish down and accepted the second one. “Everyone is my friend.”
And the part that puzzled Midousuji the most was that it was true. Everyone loved Onoda and yet it was him that Onoda had chosen to love.