Eiji's hands are hesitant the first time he offers Oishi his racket during practice. That doesn't stop Oishi from noticing every detail of them—the dirt trapped under the fingernails, the scrape on the back of a knuckle, the way they tremble slightly as they offer the racket Oishi had dropped. The way they pull away almost too quickly when Oishi's fingers brush against them as he takes hold of the handle.
When winter comes, Oishi notices when Eiji comes to practice with hands that are red and chapped from the cold. He offers Eiji lotion for his bag and reminds him to wear his gloves, but it doesn't help; Eiji always forgets them as he bounces from one place to another.
Oishi's finally had enough when he sees Eiji wipe a hand across his forehead and then wince when the salt stings his cracked skin. After practice, he pulls Eiji aside and works lotion into his hands himself, feeling every dry spot and callus and memorizing them as if they were his own. He pretends not to notice the way Eiji's hands are sweating under his.
By New Year's, he's started keeping a spare pair of mittens in his bag as well.
Come spring, it's Eiji who comes to him after a game when his hands are cramped and stiff from returning drive after drive. He doesn't even say anything, just sits down next to Oishi in the locker room and holds out his hands for inspection, his fingers seized up around the handle of an imaginary racket. Oishi takes them gently and methodically works his way along every muscle and tendon until they relax and Eiji can move them again. He lingers perhaps a little too long when he finishes, but Eiji's not pulling away. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but it almost feels like Eiji's squeezing his hand too.
It's not until late summer that Oishi's finally able to do what he's wanted to do for almost a year. Eiji's been practicing his acrobatics again, and after practice, Oishi presses his lips to every scratch and bruise on Eiji's hands. And then, because he can, he leaves one last kiss on Eiji's fingertips. Eiji smiles at him, then curls his hand into a fist and presses it close to his own heart.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No matter the season or the weather, Oishi's hands are always warm—warm as they close over his hands on a tennis racket before the game, warm as they touch his shoulder in support when misses a return, warm when they grab his in celebration after they win.
Oishi's hands are strong too. He hadn't noticed it at first when Oishi had limited himself to a few brief touches here and there, but now that it's Oishi's fingers digging under his shoulderblade to get at the muscle he strained in their last game, he wonders if Oishi has the strongest hands of anyone on their team. It hurts when Oishi's thumb presses into a sore spot, but it's alternating with gentle fingers running through his hair and down the back of his neck, and that makes it okay.
Oishi's hand are warm, and they're strong, but the one thing Eiji notices most about them is how steady they are. It doesn't matter whether it's before an important match or after a practice where they've been pushed harder than they thought possible, Oishi's hands never shake with nerves or exhaustion the way his own do.
Eiji knows he'll never forget the moment when that changes. He kisses Oishi for the first time, and when he pulls away, it's Oishi who's speechless, and Oishi who reaches up with trembling hands to pull him in again. And Oishi who stays there afterward as if he's afraid it won't last if he lets go.
For once, it's Eiji who has the steadier hands, though not by much, and it's Eiji who rubs Oishi's back and whispers "I love you," until Oishi is finally ready to let go.
Prince of Tennis, Eiji/Oishi, G
When winter comes, Oishi notices when Eiji comes to practice with hands that are red and chapped from the cold. He offers Eiji lotion for his bag and reminds him to wear his gloves, but it doesn't help; Eiji always forgets them as he bounces from one place to another.
Oishi's finally had enough when he sees Eiji wipe a hand across his forehead and then wince when the salt stings his cracked skin. After practice, he pulls Eiji aside and works lotion into his hands himself, feeling every dry spot and callus and memorizing them as if they were his own. He pretends not to notice the way Eiji's hands are sweating under his.
By New Year's, he's started keeping a spare pair of mittens in his bag as well.
Come spring, it's Eiji who comes to him after a game when his hands are cramped and stiff from returning drive after drive. He doesn't even say anything, just sits down next to Oishi in the locker room and holds out his hands for inspection, his fingers seized up around the handle of an imaginary racket. Oishi takes them gently and methodically works his way along every muscle and tendon until they relax and Eiji can move them again. He lingers perhaps a little too long when he finishes, but Eiji's not pulling away. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but it almost feels like Eiji's squeezing his hand too.
It's not until late summer that Oishi's finally able to do what he's wanted to do for almost a year. Eiji's been practicing his acrobatics again, and after practice, Oishi presses his lips to every scratch and bruise on Eiji's hands. And then, because he can, he leaves one last kiss on Eiji's fingertips. Eiji smiles at him, then curls his hand into a fist and presses it close to his own heart.
No matter the season or the weather, Oishi's hands are always warm—warm as they close over his hands on a tennis racket before the game, warm as they touch his shoulder in support when misses a return, warm when they grab his in celebration after they win.
Oishi's hands are strong too. He hadn't noticed it at first when Oishi had limited himself to a few brief touches here and there, but now that it's Oishi's fingers digging under his shoulderblade to get at the muscle he strained in their last game, he wonders if Oishi has the strongest hands of anyone on their team. It hurts when Oishi's thumb presses into a sore spot, but it's alternating with gentle fingers running through his hair and down the back of his neck, and that makes it okay.
Oishi's hand are warm, and they're strong, but the one thing Eiji notices most about them is how steady they are. It doesn't matter whether it's before an important match or after a practice where they've been pushed harder than they thought possible, Oishi's hands never shake with nerves or exhaustion the way his own do.
Eiji knows he'll never forget the moment when that changes. He kisses Oishi for the first time, and when he pulls away, it's Oishi who's speechless, and Oishi who reaches up with trembling hands to pull him in again. And Oishi who stays there afterward as if he's afraid it won't last if he lets go.
For once, it's Eiji who has the steadier hands, though not by much, and it's Eiji who rubs Oishi's back and whispers "I love you," until Oishi is finally ready to let go.