Down the River Styx [Prince of Tennis; Yukimura-centric, drabble_rikkai prompt]

For drabble_rikkai's Free-For-All #1. Prompt; Yukimura-centric; on a trip down the river styx (suggested by vacivity). It's metaphorical! Yukimura in hospital introspection; I'm warning for angst this time ;) 254 Words.

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Sometimes it is hard to tell if the darkness surrounds him because his eyes are closed, or because of the extreme self-loathing.

The hospital is never silent, not even in the dead of night. There are squeaking trolleys pushed down halls, the shuffling feet of overweight nurses, delivery men with packages and medical supplies. He is too far from Accident and Emergency to hear the sirens, the screams, the pleading to know what is happening, what is wrong, just what is going on.

He has echoes enough of that in his own memory to last a lifetime.

Yukimura tosses and turns through his nights in hospital. At least, he would if he could. If he wasn't almost too scared to try and lift an arm or a leg only to discover it wasn't responding to his will. Really, he simply does not sleep. Doing a whole lot of nothing does not leave him feeling at all exhausted at the end of each day.

When the time is late enough for silence to creep as close as it ever will in this place, Yukimura hears worse things than crying and whimpering from pain. He hears the reassuring thud of a tennis ball, he hears a racket whipped confidently through the air, he hears the repetitions, the grunts and groans of effort. He hears feet running in all directions to return a ball.

The only explanation he has for something like this, something so unexplainable to happen, is that his pride was too high.

Past tense.

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Back Seat [Prince of Tennis: Niou/Yagyuu, drabble_rikkai prompt]

For drabble_rikkai's Free-For-All #1. Prompt; D1: backseat (suggested by cluelesschase). 332 Words. Uhm, what rating do you give for 'it's a little suggestive?'.

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"Thanks for doing this," Niou says, but Yagyuu could've imagined it; it doesn't sound like something Niou would say so easily after all.

He gives a little nod into the rearview mirror anyway, short, sharp and prim. He doesn't want Niou to know it, but really he finds this all amusing.

If Niou knew that, he would rely on Yagyuu to drive him to work at the last second more often. He would come to depend upon Yagyuu's very competent hands on the steering wheel in the ten o'clock and two o'clock positions, he would start leaving wrappers from ready-made breakfasts in the car, and probably even stash spare clothing in the back.

If Niou knew, he would be there every morning, hair still mussed from the half-sleep of the night before, breath suggesting high consumption of alcohol. He would slip in to the backseat with no top on, and his work clothes freshly pressed, preserved in a suit bag. He would again be a reckless passenger with no seatbelt on, squirming around to pull his pyjama pants off, unzipping the suit bag beside him with one hand while the other roots around for a piece of gum to last him until he can get into the toilet at work and pull out his toothbrush.

He would again be stretching himself out across the backseat in order to pull his work pants on, leaving the fly undone until after putting on his shirt, smoothing it down with his hands and letting them travel further south.

"The fuck, Yagyuu?!" He'd say, distracted by a sudden swerve in the road.

All of a sudden, Yagyuu has trouble remembering why he wouldn't want this to become a regular favour.

"Thanks for doing this," Niou says when they finally stop. His eyelids threaten to close, and not for lack of sleep, though it's true he hasn't had much.

"Anytime," Yagyuu replies with a thick voice and an urge to lick his lips. And means it.

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