Word Count: 1546 Warnings: Bad language. Also idiots.
Ibitani was in love with Machimiya. It wasn’t a secret. Not to him, not to their teammates. Probably not to the strangers who happened to pass them together on the street. The only person who didn’t seem to know was Machimiya himself, which was all kinds of ridiculous, in Ibitani’s opinion.
Because he wasn’t exactly subtle in general, but especially not about his feelings for Machimiya, and Ibitani was a notorious flirt. “I love your voice, Miya,” he’d purr over the phone, or he’d sidle up to Machimiya after practice and push his sweaty bangs back (“You do have beautiful hair, but don’t let it cover your face, gorgeous!”). Machimiya would always laugh or smirk and sometimes flirt back, mouth curved up sarcastically, until Ibitani gave up with a huff and Machimiya would revel in his stupid imagined victory.
“I’m gonna tell him,” Ibitani grumped to Higashimura one evening after practice. He stirred his ramen with one chopstick, pouting with his chin in his other hand.
“No you won’t,” Higashimura said evenly, not even looking up from the textbook he was reading. Ibitani had to fight the urge to slap it shut. He was sulking, he needed Higashimura’s undivided attention.
“Maybe I will this time,” Ibitani said, though they both knew he was lying. It wasn’t the first time Ibitani had thrown around the idea of confessing properly. It probably wouldn’t be the last. But he’d never been able to bring himself to risk it. Machimiya was his best friend, his captain, his favourite person in the world, and he’d only ever shown interest in girls before. He knew Ibitani was gay. Everyone knew Ibitani was gay. And Machimiya evidently wasn’t, so there was no point in risking a valuable friendship just for the sake of finally getting some kind of closure on his ridiculous crush. No matter how serious his “joking” flirting actually was. There was a big difference between flirting and actually confessing.
So yeah. He was a coward. Whatever. He’d just die alone. No big deal.
When Machimiya won a local sprint race, Ibitani couldn’t help running up to him and throwing his arms excitedly around Machimiya’s shoulders, blabbering congratulations. He pulled back a bit when Machimiya winced.
“Aah, sorry Miya, here, let me help you with your jersey.” He ran his hand down Machimiya’s collarbone to the zipper of his jersey – something he’d done many times before, something Machimiya had always been fine with, but this time, Machimiya jerked away with a scowl.
“Will you stop fucking touching me all the time?” he snarled, surprisingly venomous, and Ibitani stumbled a half-step back, hands falling to his sides.
“Sorry, Miya,” he said again, because he didn’t know what else to say, and Machimiya made an angry noise and stomped away without another word.
Ibitani tried not to cry.
He didn’t do a very good job.
“I fucked up,” he sniffed at Shiono and Higashimura when he found them alone in their team’s tent. He flopped on top of a cooler and tried to stop his hands from shaking. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked everything up.
Shiono and Higashimura looked at him, then at each other, then at him again, and then Shiono cautiously asked “What did you do?”
And that was just the thing. Ibitani didn’t know. He couldn’t think of anything unusual that he’d done. Their post-race routine was practically scripted at this point, and it wasn’t Ibitani who had deviated from it.
“He knows,” Ibitani groaned, dropping his head forward. “He knows and he hates me. Someone put me out of my misery.”
“Who?”
Ibitani exhaled a growl. “Who the fuck do you think, bonehead?”
“Machimiya?”
Ibitani groaned again.
“But I don’t –” Shiono cut off suddenly, and Ibitani could hear him whispering with Higashimura. Let them whisper, he thought. He didn’t care what anyone did or what anyone said anymore because somehow he’d ruined everything and that was it, his life was over.
He vaguely registered Shiono’s awkward pat on the shoulder before his two teammates left and Ibitani was alone, sniffling pathetically at his shoes and wondering how difficult it would be to move to Australia or Korea and forget all about high school.
Ibitani was well and truly into his wallowing when he heard someone enter the tent. He fully intended to ignore whoever it was until Machimiya’s voice said “Um.” And then Ibitani scrambled back with an undignified snort, tripped over the cooler, and ended up flat on his ass with his ankles propped up in the air.
Where the hell were Shiono and Higashimura? Or literally anyone else. He was not prepared to handle this right now. He plonked his head down on the ground and prayed for death.
“Uh,” Machimiya said again, eyes wide at Ibitani’s overreaction. “Are you okay?”
Ibitani waved one hand in a way that he intended to be flippant but probably came across as manic. “Yep, totally fine, I just tripped and it’s totally not embarrassing and I think I’m going to just lie here for a while.”
“Not what I meant, but sure,” Machimiya muttered. He shoved Ibitani’s feet off the cooler – they plonked heavily onto the ground – and righted it and sat on it himself. He sighed gustily, running a hand down his face, and Ibitani cringed into the ground.
“Look,” Machimiya said awkwardly. “About before.”
Ibitani cringed even harder. “Yeah, I got it. No touchy. Sorry Miya.” Later, he willed himself, cry over this like a heartbroken child later. He held his eyes open until they started to dry up. It didn’t count as crying if the tears never fell.
“That’s not –” Machimiya broke off and exhaled loudly again. One hand wavered vaguely, like he was trying to find the right thing to say.
“Miya, are – are you blushing”
“No! Fuck off!” he replied, absolutely red-faced. Ibitani smirked half-heartedly.
“Just… listen. I was tired from the race, and still kind of… you know.” He stuck his tongue out and scrunched up his eyebrows like he did when he was racing.
And it was hot and that was just completely unfair.
“So, uh. I kind of reacted without thinking.”
Ouch. Ibitani pushed himself up to curl his arms around his legs and rest his forehead on his knees. “Got it,” he said again, voice muffled.
“No, that’s not what I – dammit. It’s just really fucking hard to resist you when I’m tired, okay?”
Ibitani blinked. That certainly wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “Resist?”
Every inch of Machimiya radiated embarrassment. “Your, your touchy, flirty thing. It’s kind of. I kind of like it. Like. Too much.”
“What?”
Machimiya tensed defensively. “Look, I know it’s just a joke, okay? But just. Sometimes it’s hard to not take it seriously when I… when I want to take it seriously, okay? I just didn’t want to make it awkward, but fuck. Higashido said I hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean to do that either, I swear.”
“Miya, what the fuck.”
“I’m sorry! Shit, Ibitani, it’s not like I can help it, okay?”
Ibitani wasn’t going to move to Australia. Or Korea. Or go anywhere except to launch himself at Machimiya.
Which, admittedly, wasn’t the best choice, because Machimiya wasn’t expecting it and he yelped and they toppled off the cooler together, landing on the ground again. Only, in a much better situation, because Ibitani was on top of Machimiya and his heart was stuttering and his ears were ringing and he needed Machimiya to say that again, like, right now.
“Say it,” Ibitani demanded, leaning in so his own face was mere centimeters from Machimiya’s. “Tell me.”
Machimiya shuffled, but Ibitani shoved him down until he stilled. “I kinda like you, Ibitani.”
Ibitani leaned even closer, until their noses were touching and Machimiya’s eyes were blown wide. He took a breath in, and then he yelled.
“Are you a fucking idiot?”
“Ah! Ibitani, what the fuck!”
Ibitani ignored him and sat up on Machimiya’s stomach so he could gesture to better express himself. “I’ve been in love with you for forever – literally everyone knows that, oh my god – and you thought I was joking, what the fuck, Miya, I’m so fucking gay and I’ve been flirting with you for so long and you thought it was a fucking joke, I’m going to kill you!”
“You flirt with everyone, it’s not my fault!” Machimiya protested. Then he blinked. “Wait, what?”
Ibitani threw his arms up in frustration. “Ugh! You’re so dense! You’re so frustrating! Oh my god fuck you Miya, I don’t flirt with anyone like that, when was the last time I offered to take someone else’s fucking shirt off, fuck you and your stupid pretty little butt and your gorgeous hair and your dumb giggle and – and –”
And Ibitani leaned over and kissed Machimiya as hard as he could, and Machimiya kissed him back. Machimiya kissed him back. Ibitani felt himself start crying again, hiccupping into the kiss, and Machimiya swept bewildered fingers along his cheekbones. But it was a different kind of crying, and when a moment later Ibitani pulled back from the kiss to look down at Machimiya, they were both smiling.
“We’re so dumb,” Machimiya whispered, half-awed. Ibitani sniffed and laughed and leaned in for another kiss.
FILL: TEAM AOYAGI HAJIME/TESHIMA JUNTA, T
Warnings: Bad language. Also idiots.
Ibitani was in love with Machimiya. It wasn’t a secret. Not to him, not to their teammates. Probably not to the strangers who happened to pass them together on the street. The only person who didn’t seem to know was Machimiya himself, which was all kinds of ridiculous, in Ibitani’s opinion.
Because he wasn’t exactly subtle in general, but especially not about his feelings for Machimiya, and Ibitani was a notorious flirt. “I love your voice, Miya,” he’d purr over the phone, or he’d sidle up to Machimiya after practice and push his sweaty bangs back (“You do have beautiful hair, but don’t let it cover your face, gorgeous!”). Machimiya would always laugh or smirk and sometimes flirt back, mouth curved up sarcastically, until Ibitani gave up with a huff and Machimiya would revel in his stupid imagined victory.
“I’m gonna tell him,” Ibitani grumped to Higashimura one evening after practice. He stirred his ramen with one chopstick, pouting with his chin in his other hand.
“No you won’t,” Higashimura said evenly, not even looking up from the textbook he was reading. Ibitani had to fight the urge to slap it shut. He was sulking, he needed Higashimura’s undivided attention.
“Maybe I will this time,” Ibitani said, though they both knew he was lying. It wasn’t the first time Ibitani had thrown around the idea of confessing properly. It probably wouldn’t be the last. But he’d never been able to bring himself to risk it. Machimiya was his best friend, his captain, his favourite person in the world, and he’d only ever shown interest in girls before. He knew Ibitani was gay. Everyone knew Ibitani was gay. And Machimiya evidently wasn’t, so there was no point in risking a valuable friendship just for the sake of finally getting some kind of closure on his ridiculous crush. No matter how serious his “joking” flirting actually was. There was a big difference between flirting and actually confessing.
So yeah. He was a coward. Whatever. He’d just die alone. No big deal.
When Machimiya won a local sprint race, Ibitani couldn’t help running up to him and throwing his arms excitedly around Machimiya’s shoulders, blabbering congratulations. He pulled back a bit when Machimiya winced.
“Aah, sorry Miya, here, let me help you with your jersey.” He ran his hand down Machimiya’s collarbone to the zipper of his jersey – something he’d done many times before, something Machimiya had always been fine with, but this time, Machimiya jerked away with a scowl.
“Will you stop fucking touching me all the time?” he snarled, surprisingly venomous, and Ibitani stumbled a half-step back, hands falling to his sides.
“Sorry, Miya,” he said again, because he didn’t know what else to say, and Machimiya made an angry noise and stomped away without another word.
Ibitani tried not to cry.
He didn’t do a very good job.
“I fucked up,” he sniffed at Shiono and Higashimura when he found them alone in their team’s tent. He flopped on top of a cooler and tried to stop his hands from shaking. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked everything up.
Shiono and Higashimura looked at him, then at each other, then at him again, and then Shiono cautiously asked “What did you do?”
And that was just the thing. Ibitani didn’t know. He couldn’t think of anything unusual that he’d done. Their post-race routine was practically scripted at this point, and it wasn’t Ibitani who had deviated from it.
“He knows,” Ibitani groaned, dropping his head forward. “He knows and he hates me. Someone put me out of my misery.”
“Who?”
Ibitani exhaled a growl. “Who the fuck do you think, bonehead?”
“Machimiya?”
Ibitani groaned again.
“But I don’t –” Shiono cut off suddenly, and Ibitani could hear him whispering with Higashimura. Let them whisper, he thought. He didn’t care what anyone did or what anyone said anymore because somehow he’d ruined everything and that was it, his life was over.
He vaguely registered Shiono’s awkward pat on the shoulder before his two teammates left and Ibitani was alone, sniffling pathetically at his shoes and wondering how difficult it would be to move to Australia or Korea and forget all about high school.
Ibitani was well and truly into his wallowing when he heard someone enter the tent. He fully intended to ignore whoever it was until Machimiya’s voice said “Um.” And then Ibitani scrambled back with an undignified snort, tripped over the cooler, and ended up flat on his ass with his ankles propped up in the air.
Where the hell were Shiono and Higashimura? Or literally anyone else. He was not prepared to handle this right now. He plonked his head down on the ground and prayed for death.
“Uh,” Machimiya said again, eyes wide at Ibitani’s overreaction. “Are you okay?”
Ibitani waved one hand in a way that he intended to be flippant but probably came across as manic. “Yep, totally fine, I just tripped and it’s totally not embarrassing and I think I’m going to just lie here for a while.”
“Not what I meant, but sure,” Machimiya muttered. He shoved Ibitani’s feet off the cooler – they plonked heavily onto the ground – and righted it and sat on it himself. He sighed gustily, running a hand down his face, and Ibitani cringed into the ground.
“Look,” Machimiya said awkwardly. “About before.”
Ibitani cringed even harder. “Yeah, I got it. No touchy. Sorry Miya.” Later, he willed himself, cry over this like a heartbroken child later. He held his eyes open until they started to dry up. It didn’t count as crying if the tears never fell.
“That’s not –” Machimiya broke off and exhaled loudly again. One hand wavered vaguely, like he was trying to find the right thing to say.
“Miya, are – are you blushing”
“No! Fuck off!” he replied, absolutely red-faced. Ibitani smirked half-heartedly.
“Just… listen. I was tired from the race, and still kind of… you know.” He stuck his tongue out and scrunched up his eyebrows like he did when he was racing.
And it was hot and that was just completely unfair.
“So, uh. I kind of reacted without thinking.”
Ouch. Ibitani pushed himself up to curl his arms around his legs and rest his forehead on his knees. “Got it,” he said again, voice muffled.
“No, that’s not what I – dammit. It’s just really fucking hard to resist you when I’m tired, okay?”
Ibitani blinked. That certainly wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “Resist?”
Every inch of Machimiya radiated embarrassment. “Your, your touchy, flirty thing. It’s kind of. I kind of like it. Like. Too much.”
“What?”
Machimiya tensed defensively. “Look, I know it’s just a joke, okay? But just. Sometimes it’s hard to not take it seriously when I… when I want to take it seriously, okay? I just didn’t want to make it awkward, but fuck. Higashido said I hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean to do that either, I swear.”
“Miya, what the fuck.”
“I’m sorry! Shit, Ibitani, it’s not like I can help it, okay?”
Ibitani wasn’t going to move to Australia. Or Korea. Or go anywhere except to launch himself at Machimiya.
Which, admittedly, wasn’t the best choice, because Machimiya wasn’t expecting it and he yelped and they toppled off the cooler together, landing on the ground again. Only, in a much better situation, because Ibitani was on top of Machimiya and his heart was stuttering and his ears were ringing and he needed Machimiya to say that again, like, right now.
“Say it,” Ibitani demanded, leaning in so his own face was mere centimeters from Machimiya’s. “Tell me.”
Machimiya shuffled, but Ibitani shoved him down until he stilled. “I kinda like you, Ibitani.”
Ibitani leaned even closer, until their noses were touching and Machimiya’s eyes were blown wide. He took a breath in, and then he yelled.
“Are you a fucking idiot?”
“Ah! Ibitani, what the fuck!”
Ibitani ignored him and sat up on Machimiya’s stomach so he could gesture to better express himself. “I’ve been in love with you for forever – literally everyone knows that, oh my god – and you thought I was joking, what the fuck, Miya, I’m so fucking gay and I’ve been flirting with you for so long and you thought it was a fucking joke, I’m going to kill you!”
“You flirt with everyone, it’s not my fault!” Machimiya protested. Then he blinked. “Wait, what?”
Ibitani threw his arms up in frustration. “Ugh! You’re so dense! You’re so frustrating! Oh my god fuck you Miya, I don’t flirt with anyone like that, when was the last time I offered to take someone else’s fucking shirt off, fuck you and your stupid pretty little butt and your gorgeous hair and your dumb giggle and – and –”
And Ibitani leaned over and kissed Machimiya as hard as he could, and Machimiya kissed him back. Machimiya kissed him back. Ibitani felt himself start crying again, hiccupping into the kiss, and Machimiya swept bewildered fingers along his cheekbones. But it was a different kind of crying, and when a moment later Ibitani pulled back from the kiss to look down at Machimiya, they were both smiling.
“We’re so dumb,” Machimiya whispered, half-awed. Ibitani sniffed and laughed and leaned in for another kiss.
yay for bisexy miya you dumb dog you