Hell Has Frozen Over

by Granate, 2004


Disclaimer: Don't own, not making any money!

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Ryoma passed the hamburger shop on his way home from the public tennis courts. He glanced inside for a familiar face, but didn’t see anybody that he knew. Not that he would have gone inside if he had, of course. He looked down at the curb and adjusted his hat but stopped abruptly when long legs and big shoes blocked his path.

“You owe me a hamburger,” Momoshiro drawled. The sophomore was lounging in one of the outside chairs, hands behind his head, eyes closed, and legs extended rudely across the sidewalk. “Or five.”

“You wish,” Ryoma snorted, stepping over the legs. He kept walking, certain that Momo would get up and follow.

“Oi, Echizen!” he heard before there was a scrape of metal against concrete. “I give you advice on your date and this is the thanks I get?” Momo complained, catching up to him.

“Date?” Ryoma asked, keeping his eyes averted under the bill of his hat. He didn’t look up because he knew Momoshiro would be grinning at him.

“Yeah, your date with Ryuzaki’s grand-daughter,” Momo teased as he spread his palm over the top of Ryoma’s cap and jostled it around.

Ryoma dodged his head to the right, claiming, “It wasn’t a date.”

“Well, it could have been if you weren’t such a bonehead,” Momo ribbed, but did not receive a reaction. They rounded a corner into an alley in silence. Momo shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Nice girl, though. She’s kind of cute, huh?” he asked. Ryoma didn’t say anything so Momo elbowed him annoyingly. “Huh? HUH?”

Ryoma shifted his racket bag so it jabbed the older boy in the back, making him jump. “I’ll pass that along for you,” he said.

Momo’s eyes bugged comically and then he glared down at the freshman, who pretended not to notice.

“So, if you’re not going to buy me a hamburger,” Momo said after a moment, “at least fill me in on the details of your date. Did you ‘string her racket’??”

The other boy frowned but kept his eyes straight ahead. “I don’t know how to string rackets, the old man did it,” he shrugged.

“Damn, that’s sick, Echizen,” Momo barked in laughter. “You probably don’t even know what I’m saying. You’re such a kid!”

Ryoma sighed in resignation. “I knew you were making a joke, it was just stupid and I didn’t want to respond to it.”

“Come on, did you get anywhere, or did you just play tennis?” Momo continued. “You like her, right?”

There was no answer.

“Oh man, what’s wrong with you?” the sophomore continued. “You go out with a cute girl who practically treats you like a god and you don’t even show her a good time!” Then he started laughing, “Maybe you don’t like girls, Echizen! Maybe you like boys!”

This still did not get any kind of answer out of Ryoma, who only gave the impression that he was being thoroughly and expertly ignored.

Momo was still laughing, “You’re such a little kid, Echizen! I bet you don’t even know what I’m talking about!!” He snatched off the other boy’s white hat in one swift move.

“I’m not a little kid,” Ryoma said, halting in his tracks. Momo stopped and looked at him in surprise. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ryoma grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him down face to face. Momo’s dark eyes widened. Ryoma’s eyes, they were green. And then closed. And then Ryoma kissed him, square on the mouth.

He nearly lost his balance when Ryoma let go and shoved him away a moment later. Paralyzed in shock, he stuttered at the freshman, who was looking much too pleased with himself.

“See? I knew what you were talking about,” Ryoma said in the taunting voice he used in tennis matches. He had that evil little smirk on his face too, the one he made when he let his opponent underestimate him and then crushed them. Momo stammered a few more syllables and Ryoma snatched the hat back and put it back on as he started walking.

“Oi, Echizen!” he rebuked, obviously trying very hard not to let his voice squeak upwards. “What the hell was that?”

“Geez, who’s the little kid now? That was a kiss, stupid,” Ryoma said over his shoulder as he kept walking. He heard the soft slap of Momo’s sneakers catching up with him and then felt an arm sidle up to his shoulder.

“So… does this mean we’re on a date?”

Ryoma angled his face so that his smile was hidden by his hat. “You wish.”