Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Rating: PG for a kiss? XD (...kind of) and dear Kami's language
Genre: tentative crack? :D
Word Count: 500
Summary: Shinji is twisted. Kamio spazzes.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to Konomi-sensei. ;3
Shinji had just spat in the mixing bowl.
Kamio couldn’t believe his eyes – Shinji had just spat in the bowl.
“Holy shit, Shinji! What the hell’s gotten into you!?” the redhead yelled, grabbing the wooden spoon out of his sometime partner’s hand and doing his best to fish the offending glob out of the cookie dough.
Only to succeed in mixing it further in.
“Oh. My. God.” Kamio didn’t even know what to think anymore. The spoon fell from his fingers. “An-chan is going to murder us.” (And God only knew that girl actually could.)
They’d been working on cookies, the three of them, and An had told them to keep mixing while she just ducked down to the corner store for some choc-chips.
She had been gone three minutes, and now Shinji’s spit was in the bowl.
Shinji’s spit was in the bowl!
And Kamio was on the verge of hysterics.
Shinji cocked his head. “I don’t see why she would do that. Not to say she wouldn’t be fully capable or any such implication – An-chan is a perfectly good model of the modern woman – but I doubt she would. And in any case, murder is a premeditated act, and if she came in at this moment and killed us, it would probably be held under the defence of Provocation–”
“Shinji.” Kamio gripped his temples, disregarding the mix clinging to his fingers (and now his hair). “Why..?” he managed to grit out.
Oh, wonderful. The innocent act. But he wasn’t the innocent one here.
“Did you. Spit. In. The. Cookie dough.”
Shinji seemed to consider the question for a bit, though Kamio was convinced he was just baiting.
“Remember that one time I got a graze from falling on the courts, and Tachibana-san took me to the locker-room? You were still outside, but you should remember it all the same–” Kamio almost rolled his eyes. How could he forget? Shinji had been all but carried away. “–well, he got some bandaids out, and I asked if they would make it better, and he said no, but this would: and then he–” Shinji demonstrated by licking at Kamio’s mouth in long, languid strokes. “–like that, except on my knee.”
Somewhere around this stage, Kamio’s brain passed away.
“So when An-chan was wondering what could make the cookies better,” Shinji continued, “I–” and he demonstrated by spitting into the mixing bowl. Again. Holy shit. “–like that.” He cocked his head the other direction. “Was that so wrong?”
Kamio had no idea what of the whole bizarre case he found most disturbing. It was all horribly twisted – illogical nonsense, the whole kit-‘n’-caboodle –
And Shinji was deadpan, but that didn’t mean anything because Shinji was always deadpan and Kamio knew he was laughing inside. Just because he would be. Because he was weird like that.
Oh. My. God.
Kamio screwed his eyes shut like it was Armageddon.
“Shinji… that so isn’t even funny.”