Work Text:
Wednesdays had turned into… a thing. Not something either of them could acknowledge to themselves or anyone else, because to acknowledge it would mean admitting that yes, they did go to dinner together every Wednesday, and no, they never invited anyone else along. From there it was just a matter of time before it devolved into “No, we goddamn fucking aren’t dating, you fucking fuckface,” and going down that path always ended in bloodshed.
Anyway, it wasn’t like they were dating. Or like it was weird. Or like they were doing it on purpose. It was just that Shishido’s and Gakuto’s houses were in the same direction, and Wednesday practices ran so late that by the time they got out, it was dinnertime, and they were teenage boys, after all, they were still growing and therefore always hungry. (Privately, Shishido suspected that Gakuto was going to stay tiny and flippy and girly for the rest of his life, but that was another path that always ended in bloodshed, so he didn’t say anything whenever Gakuto complained about growing pains.)
Mostly it was just so boring eating alone, and somehow Gakuto knew a bunch of tiny, out-of-the-way places tucked in sketchy alleyways that turned out to have, like, ridiculously good gyoza or something, so it was always worth taking him along. And it wasn’t like they hated each other or anything. Maybe they weren’t best friends for life like they had been in fourth grade, but it wasn’t weird, or anything.
And anyway it would be weird if someone else did come along with them. Nobody besides the tennis club was still at school at that hour, and if Jirou came, he’d just sleep through most of it, and then they’d have to decide who had to sit next to the lump, or worse, have to sit next to each other. It might be okay if Oshitari or Choutarou came along, but they always had orchestra practice, and they lived a lot farther away, and it was always easier to get a table for two than for four. Atobe always had better things to do, all of which also involved Kabaji, and it wasn’t like they were going to invite Hiyoshi along. Seriously.
Dinners with Gakuto were never like a date, even if sometimes stupid waitresses mistook him for a girl (“Do I look like I’m wearing a skirt?”) and gave them gross couple milkshakes or things. They always talked about tennis, or school, or guy stuff. Nothing like the gooshy glop they had to listen to that time they spied on Oshitari and that flute chick, which as far as he could tell mostly consisted of saying things like “No, I love you more, my honey bear bubblegum sweetie sweetums.” There was no amount of money in the world that would get him to say anything like that, especially not to Gakuto. Not that Atobe hadn’t tried anyway. It wasn’t like he would ever date Gakuto, and Gakuto would never date him, and nobody would ever think they were dating unless they were certifiably insane or just complete idiots that couldn’t even tell that Gakuto was a dude.
Shishido told himself this again, hoping it would sink in this time. It wasn’t like it bothered him. It’s just that last time, Gakuto had bounced away yelling something about how he’d take him to a great curry place next week, and Shishido had waved and said something about how he was looking forward to it.
And now, on Tuesday night, he had realized that yes, Wednesdays were a thing that happened and it was weird and now he couldn’t unrealize it. No matter what he told himself about how normal it was or how it was only chance, really, that it happened regularly, he refused to listen. It was weird. It was weird. It was so weird.
Probably Gakuto had already realized this and was making it extra weird on purpose. Like how two weeks ago when the family restaurant chick brought them a mini-omurice with “rabu-rabu” written on it in ketchup, he hadn’t yelled at her about how he totally wasn’t a girl and how he totally wasn’t dating Shishido. He had just grabbed a spoon and started digging in. Afterwards he had probably laughed about it with Oshitari, like “That idiot Ryou doesn’t even realize how awkward it is, but who cares, because I get free food out of it. Do you think he’d catch on to how fucking stupid us two always going out together looks if I wore a girl’s uniform next time?” or something. Well, he could just go find some other chump to look like a girl next to and get free food outta him. As of tomorrow, Wednesdays were officially no longer a thing, so unthing-y a thing that they were… not a thing.
Shishido punched his pillow a couple of times, got into bed, and very resolutely did not have any dreams about conveyer belt sushi restaurants with little Gakutos on every plate, squeaking “Eat me, Ryou!” at him.
Because that would be weird.
***
Shishido had decided that the thing to do would be to make some excuse about how he had something to do right after school, and therefore couldn’t possibly waste any time eating with Gakuto. It was cowardly and stupid and it’d probably be really obvious and he hated it, but he didn’t trust himself not to freak out and yell something like “Fuck you, you said you only took that parfait because it normally cost 900 yen and you were 200 short!” in front of everyone. Since it would officially mark the end of his life forever if everything was to come out, he decided he could temporarily avoid a problem just this once and figure out what to do once he could stop thinking about it for like two seconds straight.
Then Gakuto turned the corner and almost ran into him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and in that moment, Shishido knew that he had to settle things here and now.
“I’m not fucking dating you, Gakuto,” he said in as calm a voice as possible, which was not very calm and came out more like a scream than a statement, but he didn’t really care and anyway he couldn’t exactly take it back now.
“I’m not fucking dating you either, dumbass,” Gakuto said in exactly as calm and collected a voice as Shishido had used. “So you can fucking stop using me for free food now.”
“Using you? You’re the one that’s getting all these omurices and ice cream sundaes and-“
“What about your hamburg steak and that really fruity tropical drink and those chocolate almond things and-“
“-are you kidding me, nobody’s going to turn down a hamburg steak from that old guy’s shop, and anyway what about that one stand with that “Ramentic” thing, that was-“
“-that was fucking delicious is what it was, just because the stupid fish cake was shaped like a heart-“
“-and it’s because you look too much like a girl, why don’t you buzz it all off Atobe-style-“
“-no, it’s because you always do all these creepy things like hold doors open for me and pull out chairs for me and-“
“Grrraaaaaaahhhh!!” Shishido threw the first punch, but missed. Before he could recover, Gakuto kicked his legs out from under him, dived on top of him, and started hitting him as many times as he could. Shishido brought his arms up to protect his face, but wasn’t able to do much more than defend himself from Gakuto’s attacks. Frustrated, he tried to throw Gakuto off and sit up, but Gakuto had a tighter hold on him than he had thought and he ended up smashing their heads together.
He reeled, falling back. He must have blacked out or gotten some temporary brain damage or something, because he almost thought Gakuto fell on top of him and that something completely impossible happened as a result. But it didn’t, so it was okay. Kinda. He was still pissed off, though, so he pitched Gakuto off him and stormed off.
Tennis practice was a little rough. Atobe was working doubles extra hard, determined to produce a team that would be able to compete on an even footing with Oishi and Kikumaru, and while that was great in theory, in practice it meant he had to stare at Gakuto all day and watch him hop around like a moron. He tried to convince Choutarou to Scud him in the face whenever he was receiving, but it never worked. Eventually he decided ignoring him was the solution, and they finally managed to break Hiyoshi’s serve and took the set 6-4. Which was all very well, but they played two more sets after that, and by the time practice was over, he was grumpy and worn out and hungry.
Really hungry.
So hungry that he ended up accosting Gakuto after he got out of the clubroom. “Hey, tell me where that curry place you were on about is. I’m starving.”
“I’m not going to tell you, then whenever I go there you’ll be there too and you’ll bitch at me about stalking you,” Gakuto retorted, but practice had pushed him hard and his words didn’t have their usual bite.
“I won’t bitch, I’ll… greet you civilly. Like wave or nod or something.” Shishido felt his stomach rumbling slightly. “Come on, just tell me.”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying. Fine, just come with me.”
“You don’t need to take me, just tell me and I’ll find it-“
“Ryou. Remember our class trip to Odaiba in 3rd grade. You were halfway to Saitama when they found you.”
“…All right, so let’s go already.”
Gakuto must have been extra tired or something, because he kept bumping into Shishido as they walked and then shooting him these suspicious looks, like he thought he was the one running into him or something. Shishido decided that if he ended up passed out in the street, he’d leave him there. Maybe leave a water bottle with him or something, but leave him there. Unless his house was super close or something.
For better or worse, Gakuto managed to stay conscious and led him through a series of twists of turns until they finally ended up at some really suspicious stairs leading into darkness.
“Uh, you sure this is a curry place and not, like, a yakuza hideout or something?” Shishido whispered.
“You’re an idiot,” Gakuto said, and started down the stairs. Shishido followed apprehensively. As he descended, the rich scent of curry spices began to fill his nostrils, but he kept his guard up, in case it was yakuza curry or something.
It turned out to be a very small shop, with less than ten stools lined up in front of a counter. An old woman was sitting behind it, stirring a pot. “Hey, granny, two plates of your spiciest,” Gakuto called, perching on a stool.
“Weren’t you just going to take me here and leave?” Shishido hissed at him.
“I’m hungry too. If you’ve got a problem with that, you can leave. It’s your own fault for sending over so many stupid lobs and making me jump all the time anyway.”
“Whatever. If you weren’t jumping, you’d be flipping or cartwheeling or whatever even if I sent them straight at you,” Shishido said and took a seat next to him.
“Is this your friend, Gaku-chan?” the old lady asked, peering intently at him.
“Uh, yeah. This is Ryou, I’ve known him for pretty much forever,” Gakuto said, stumbling over his words a bit. He must have been seriously exhausted if he couldn’t even talk properly.
“Childhood friends, eh?” she said with a smile. “Let’s see if Granny can’t fix up something special for the two of you.” She set two plates in front of them and disappeared into the back room before they could protest.
Shishido figured she’d just give them some free dumplings or something, since she clearly knew Gakuto. He dug into the curry. It tasted pretty much exactly like heaven, and he finished the plate in a matter of minutes.
He was wondering if it would be rude to lick the plate or if he should just steal the rest of Gakuto’s (he had barely eaten anything and his face was bright red, apparently it was way too spicy for him) when the old lady came back. “Here you go, dears,” she said, and set a bowl between them. “My specialty, the ‘Burning Love.’”
It was a bowl of curry, with little red peppers dotting the top, spelling out “Gaku-chan” and “Ryou-kun.” In the center were two long peppers that formed a heart.
Shishido swallowed nervously. Gakuto seemed to have been paralyzed by his curry and was staring into it. The old woman was looking at him expectantly. “Er,” he started, and then stopped again. “Uh. Thank you. It looks really good.” He dug his spoon in hesitantly, removing half of the heart. He stuck it in his mouth, which immediately felt like it was on fire. He could feel his face burning red. He thought he might start crying, but managed to hold it together. “This is… this is really great,” he choked out. The old lady beamed at him.
Gakuto seemed to have unfrozen. He grabbed the other half of the heart and shoved it in his mouth. “I never thought I’d have the chance to eat this,” he muttered.
“Eat up, hon,” the old lady said, “don’t let that boy finish it before you get a chance.”
Shishido had been making steady progress, trying to demolish the names as best he could without making it obvious that was what he was doing, and now he started guiltily. Gakuto stuck his spoon in beside Shishido’s and started taking small, careful mouthfuls.
It seemed like it took forever to finish that awful bowl (well, awful only in what it signified. It tasted nothing short of miraculous and Shishido could feel his strength returning with every mouthful). It was awkward and weird and Shishido thought he might very well die of embarrassment. Gakuto didn’t look much better off, the one time he dared to glance at him. It was pretty much the worst thing that had ever happened ever.
They went back next Wednesday and the Wednesday after that as well.