Warnings: Massive squishy silliness. Also, it's been a number of years since I touched my violin. Don't eat me for the details. ^^;;

Itsu De Mo (Whenever)
by Monnie

Ootori, he noticed, had been playing for awhile.

Shishido wasn't really much of one for classical music. It just... wasn't something he'd ever have listened to, given the choice. Oh, sure, he knew a little about it--with Ootori living in the same suite as him and occasionally getting all excited about something or another, the only way he wouldn't know anything about it were if he were deaf. And, yeah, sure, the people who could play it could sometimes do some really damned cool things with how fast their fingers were moving, on a piano or violin or something--not so different from a guy picking riffs on an electric guitar, sort of. But really... it was just kind of boring to listen to, a lot of the time. All the neat fingering tended to get lost in the sound, and, well, just how long the pieces were.

Except when Ootori was playing. He didn't mind that.

It wasn't that Shishido actually knew anything, technically speaking, about how the violin was supposed to be played, except little words and pieces that he'd picked up watching Ootori pet and coo over his instrument--'neck', 'bridge', 'bout', 'tail'. (He just hadn't wanted to know why the thing had a neck, a tail, and no body. Freaky.) Yeah, he could figure that his partner was good--damned good, and not just because he'd cheered him through competitions since before they'd even been... together. He'd thought it was weird that they had ranking things in the orchestra, too--but Hell, it was Hyotei, and if the brats on the tennis team were bad, he didn't even want to think about 'artistic' brats. Still, though, he had to admit that Ootori sounded good when he played, rich and mellow, a warm sound even on the high notes that Shishido always half-expected to squeak (because violins were squeaky things, right?) but they never did.

Ootori claimed it was the violin. Shishido hadn't bought that one any more than he thought that Ootori's racquet was what made him do Scud Serves. Sure, that instrument had a pretty distinctive sound--Shishido had really freaked out one of the snotty music kids who'd been manning the desk, when he'd come to the practice rooms looking for Ootori one day, because they were going to be late for practice if he didn't hurry up. When he'd asked where his partner was, the guy had just smirked at him, gestured to the twelve practice rooms (all of which had some kind of string music floating from them) and told him that Ootori was the one playing Vivaldi's "Summer."

He'd been about to grit his teeth and ask the kid which number practice room that was, damn it, 'cause how the Hell was he supposed to know what Vivaldi's "Summer" sounded like?!--when he'd cocked his head and heard just a little strain of something familiar. Not a piece--he had a hard time picking those apart--but... well, kind of a quality of sound. The way that even on those long, crazy runs, each of Ootori's notes was so distinct, not sort of mushed together like he could hear in some of the other rooms, and how his violin didn't squeak even on those fast high notes, but sounded kind of like the way crystal tinkled when you hit it just right. And so he'd just walked past the row of practice rooms, gotten to number six--where that familiar golden hum had been coming from--and knocked.

It'd been so good to see the music brat at the desk gape at him, mouth flapping open and closed when Ootori had opened the door and blinked at him. "Oh! Shishido-san!"

It was no wonder his Choutarou had forgotten about the time, that time, or any time, for that matter--Shishido had seen him standing in their common room, just playing, for literally hours until Shishido came out of his bedroom to check on him and saw that his fingers, on the dull metal strings, were red even under the callus. There wasn't any doubt that Ootori loved his violin, and loved to play--it scared Shishido, sometimes, to think what would happen if Ootori's duties as head violin--or concert master, or whatever they called it--ever clashed with all the time he spent playing tennis as a Hyotei regular. He really wasn't anywhere near sure that his partner would pick tennis, if it came to that.

Yeah, if it ever happened--and it hadn't, so far; you didn't get as far as Ootori had either in tennis or in the orchestra without really pushing yourself at least sometimes, and Shishido understood that now--but if it did... well, they'd still be roommates, for sure, but Hell, it just wouldn't be the same. Not the living together. Not even the kind-of-going-out thing. Those would still be great, he was willing to bet, even if Ootori was such a damned tease, but...

But playing tennis wouldn't be at all the same thing, and he had the sinking feeling in his gut, when he thought about it, that playing singles just wouldn't have the same, well, kick to it that it had once had. And there was no friggin' way he'd put up with another partner--Hyotei was chock-full of stuck up prima-donnas, and he'd quit before he'd trust his back to one of them.

If that made him a selfish bastard, that he wanted Ootori to stay on the team for him... well, then it made him a selfish bastard. He knew what he was. If he hadn't been a selfish bastard, he'd have made damned sure that Ootori stayed away from people like him in the first place.

And much as he might say that... if Ootori wanted or needed to quit... Shishido knew very well who would be the first one to tell him that if he had to go, he had to go. He just wouldn't tell his partner that if Ootori left the team, the chances were looking pretty good that Shishido would, too.

It wasn't that Shishido didn't like being independent. 'Cause, well, he was independent, and nothing--not even his Choutarou being his--was ever going to change that.

But he wasn't going to say that it wasn't... well... nice to know that someone was behind him--whether it was because Ootori was going to try his damndest to cover that side of the court or blast the opposition into crying with his Scud Serve... or because Ootori did sweet, silly things like coming up behind Shishido--he was pretty quiet for someone so tall--and ambushing him with a hug, just out of the blue, when he came home... because he was just like that sometimes. Shishido called him a baka for it, but... he thought his Choutarou understood, maybe, what he meant when he said that. His Choutarou always smiled when he did.

It was going to be hitting the three-hour mark soon, and Ootori was still playing. He'd picked up his violin pretty much the moment he'd gotten out of the shower after practice, and hadn't stopped since... Shishido put down the book on government in the Heian period that he'd been reading for class (the page number said he'd read sixty pages, but he was having a pretty hard time remembering even the fact that he'd turned the pages at all, much less what had actually been on them.)

He ordinarily wouldn't have been worried. Ootori was a big boy, and he could take care of himself for the most part--Shishido wouldn't have liked it if someone had been fussing over him all the time. The fact was, though, that his roommate and boyfriend had been so damned withdrawn and distracted lately. Of course he wouldn't tell Shishido what the problem was--probably because he didn't want to burden him, or something like that; for awhile, Shishido had wondered what he'd done, but Ootori wasn't giving him those sad little looks that made him want to scuff his shoes sometimes.

It was almost worse, though, when it wasn't because of him--at least, when it was his fault, he could do something about it. This way... Ootori was distracted and withdrawn and obviously upset, even if he claimed he wasn't, and it just made Shishido plain want to bite something. Not in a good way, either.

The song that Ootori was playing--whatever it was--faltered, dropped, then started again. He'd been doing that for awhile, now. Actually, he'd been doing that for a couple of days, now. Yeah, something was definitely wrong--even the way he was playing sounded frustrated. It wasn't like Shishido had actively been listening to the song, and he might not have known anything about phrasing, or ties, or tone, or any of those random music things that Choutarou went on about sometimes when he was on a roll. Shishido could tell, though, when his partner was pressing down too hard on the strings of that hundred-fifty-year old violin of his. It was one of Shishido's best ways of figuring out when his partner was bothered about something, even when he refused to say anything--which was a helluva lot more common than what Shishido would have preferred. If he was upset... well, he pulled away. If he was genuinely anxious... out came the violin. And if after three hours, things hadn't changed...

Yep. It was definitely time to go out there and get Ootori to stop playing--even if it was only for a short break.

Shishido rolled off his bed and marched to the door.

"Oi. Choutarou," he blinked, a little--he knew his partner was beautiful, yeah, but no matter how many times it happened, it never really stopped whacking him, low and deep in his gut, just how graceful Ootori looked with the long, dark neck of the violin in one hand, the sleek bow like an extension of him in the other, and the curved, glowing wood tucked against his shoulder like it nestled up against the side of his neck for Ootori to rest his chin against it. (Shishido really couldn't blame the thing if it did--he knew it was a damned fine spot to be.)

The expression on Ootori's face was just all wrong, though--brows drawn together tight and mouth a tense little line, too pale as he studied the music on the sleek wooden music stand that Shishido had gotten him for his birthday, because he'd been tired of seeing him fumble with scores on the coffee table when it was too late to go back to the practice rooms at school. But that wasn't at all the way he normally looked when he was playing, even when he was upset, and Shishido frowned as Ootori just glanced at him, and then put the bow back on the strings. He could see that the fingers on the strings were red, again--almost angry against the calluses--and Ootori's bow hand was shaking, a little. "Hey. Don't you think it's time for a break?"

Ootori blinked as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him--it probably hadn't, come to think--and lowered the bow, at least, to his side. Shishido took the opportunity to step to him and take the bow from those long fingers (and yeah, Ootori's wrist was shaking, a little.) He didn't try to touch the violin, though: it was Ootori's prize possession, and he'd probably be pushing it if he tried to take it away from him, considering that even Ootori treated the instrument like a baby. He didn't often show when something was really bugging him, but Shishido had figured out--thank the gods, not through experience--that the violin was one of the only things that Ootori ever really got jealous over, and he didn't like having anyone touch it, really, but him and maybe the guy who kept the thing maintained.

Shishido understood. He didn't liked it at all when someone touched Ootori, either, unless Ootori was okay with it--and, well, a violin just couldn't say when it was okay.

"Shishido-san... I have to practice," Ootori blinked at him, numbly, and lowered the violin to cradle it against his body--but his words didn't sound like a complaint. They sounded like some kind of plea. And it set off every single alarm bell that Shishido had in a head that even he knew was paranoid.

"Take a break." It wasn't really a command, but Shishido didn't give him back the bow--he loosened its horsehair, carefully, twisting the little peg at the base of the long, graceful curve before setting it back into the case--wood upwards, on top of the pegs, as Ootori had shown him. (The look on his face when Shishido had stuck the thing back into its case, once, without loosening it was going to haunt him for awhile.) Ootori was still looking at him almost mutinously, so he added, "You've been at it for three hours, now."

Ootori blinked at him--yeah, his Choutarou sometimes lost track of time when he was playing--and just murmured, "Oh... but..." his eyebrows came together again in a little pinch that made Shishido want to reach out and smooth away the little stress-line that appeared just between them. "I haven't..."

Okay, so that tack wasn't working. He could probably bully Ootori into putting the thing down for the day, but he didn't really like doing that. He tried again. "Hey, what're you playing?"

Ootori blinked at him, slowly--and then sighed, reaching down with his free hand to flip the music book shut... and after putting his violin back into its case with that normal slow care... flopped onto the sofa and threw a hand over his eyes. Shishido blinked back--that wasn't exactly what he'd been intending when he'd asked the question--all he'd wanted to do was give Ootori enough time talking about the piece that his fingers would get some rest, and maybe he'd agree to some dinner--but whatever worked... "It's... Paganini's Moto Perpetuo. But..." he hesitated, and his chin dipped. "I can't play it, Shishido-san."

Shishido's brows furrowed as he frowned, and he walked over to sit down next to his partner. Ootori really sounded genuinely upset about it--he'd never heard him say he couldn't do something before, unless he was being modest or something. "What d'you mean?"

Ootori just looked at him, something that looked almost like desperation in those soft mahogany eyes--and Shishido blinked again. Maybe this was what had been bothering his partner for the past week. "I have to play it for an exhibition in two weeks," he said, finally, too quietly, his eyes turning again to the closed book sitting on the stand. "And... and I can't."

Like Hell you can't. You can do just about anything you damned well want to. But he didn't say that. "You gonna give up?" he winced at the challenge in his own voice. Okay, maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. He wasn't much good at 'right things to say' when Ootori wasn't in a good mood, and it wasn't something he could apologise for. Maybe there were just times when he'd be better off leaving it to Ootori's violin to make him feel better, but--

Ootori's head jerked upwards, and he stared at him. "No! But..."

Shishido just raised his head, and both eyebrows, at his partner. "But, what?"

Ootori looked away, fixing his eyes on what looked like the little red blown-glass ball that still hung from the doorway. Shishido had left it there when they'd been taking down Christmas decorations--because, well, he figured no-one but his Choutarou would notice the little thing, and his opinion on it was the only one that mattered, anyway. "But the more I work at it, the worse it gets..."

Ah. That, he understood. He reached out for Ootori's hand, limp and folded on his lap, and winced a little at the fact that those long fingers were shaking and the tips were an ugly shade of fading red; there were even string prints on Ootori's calluses, like thin striped lines. Okay, maybe holding his hand to make him feel better wasn't such a good idea. "That's 'cause you're freaking out over it, isn't it?" he cocked his head as Ootori's gaze swivelled to his, wide mahogany. Well, at least he wasn't looking worried, anymore--just sort of cutely puzzled. "C'mon, if even I can tell, you've gotta be."

Ootori just blinked... and then, to Shishido's surprise, slid lower in the couch, slowly leaning over to rest his head on Shishido's shoulder with a sigh so deep it should have made his chest cave in. "But you know me better than anyone, Shishido-san." Shishido found his cheek against surprisingly soft silver hair... well, he'd touched it a couple of times, but it wasn't the same as having it against his face, and his Choutarou always smelled so good, like the lemon shampoo that his mom insisted he use. A surprisingly fuzzy, warm sensation bubbled deep in his chest. "I guess... I guess maybe I am, um, freaking out. A little."

"You didn't tell me you had an exhibition," Shishido muttered, but he wasn't really upset--if Ootori wasn't at least a little confident about what he was going to be playing, he wasn't going to be all excited and bouncy about having a show, either, so it really wasn't a surprise. He reached around to wrap an arm around Ootori's shoulders, hugging his roommate to him. Hey, he could be huggy, too, when he needed to be. And the weight of Ootori snuggling a little closer, so their shoulders overlapped a little, felt good. "When is it? Mind if I come?"

He didn't really want to sit through however many people were going to be playing those really long classical pieces, and Ootori's family always went to all of Ootori's recitals, so it wasn't like no-one was going to be there for him, but... still. He always went, when he could. He thought, maybe, that it made his Choutarou just a little happy that he was there.

He felt Ootori, on his shoulder, heave a deep, almost nervous breath. "It's... um, I guess you probably could, if you want, but... it's in China, Shishido-san."

China?! He's going to be playing for an exhibition in friggin' CHINA?!

He really was in the habit of talking before he thought, sometimes--so it wasn't too much of a surprise when he blurted out, "Damn, Choutarou, I knew you were good, but you must be really damned good!"

Funny, how he could have sworn that he could feel the warmth of Ootori blushing against his shoulder. And this time, he reached down to catch Ootori's hand--his right one, not the one whose fingertips were all red--before it made it to his cross chain.

It startled something that was almost a little laugh from his partner, though that hadn't been why he'd done it. "I'm not that good, Shishido-san... I mean..." he sighed, a little, as if catching himself, and Shishido could have sworn. "I apologise . I shouldn't be putting this on you--you have your exams to worry about..."

Shishido squeezed the hand he was still holding. If it had been any other position, he thought that maybe he'd have just kissed Ootori to shut him up. He hated it when his roommate said things like that... "Hell, Choutarou. What else am I here for? I mean, I can't help you with your serve anymore, you've got that down. An' I can't cook, much. So..." he shrugged, a little uncomfortable with how vulnerable that made him feel, realising that, well, there really wasn't anything he could give to Ootori. "Besides, the exams'll be fine. Whatever. If something's wrong, you've got to tell me." He grinned, knowing that Ootori could feel the smile even if he couldn't see it, and looked down at his partner--it was a little weird, having that silvery head lower like this, when he was so used to looking up to see Ootori's eyes. "I'm kinda dense."

Ootori made a sound that was half a shocked little hiccup, half a giggle, and Shishido smiled back. He was just so damned cute sometimes. "Shishido-san! Don't say such things."

Shishido raised both eyebrows at the expression on his partner's face. "Then don't say you're 'not that good.'" He shrugged. "'Cause, I mean, I'm betting you are. I mean, seriously, you're never gonna hear Atobe saying he's no good, an' aren't you kind of like buchou of the Hyotei orchestra?" And only Ootori was ever going to make him say anything nice about Atobe ever again, and if Ootori told anyone he'd said that, he'd... deny him hugs for a month. Or something. Ri-ight, like he could. "You don't get there without being damned talented."

"But--but--" Ootori sputtered, and Shishido felt the hand in his squeeze, as if holding on to him the way that Ootori normally held onto his cross. Somehow, he sort of liked that image. "But I'm not Atobe-buchou, Shishido-san..."

Well, at least he hadn't tried to deny that the Hyotei orchestra was as crazy cut-throat as the tennis team. "Thank the gods," Shishido wrinkled his nose with distaste at the thought of their buchou cuddled against him. "I'll say you're not Atobe. You're a lot easier to live with. Besides," he grinned--somehow, the situation had managed to defuse itself, almost, and the little stress-line looked like it was gone from between Ootori's brows when he looked at his partner out of the corner of his eyes, and added, "You're cuter, too."

Ootori jerked up from his shoulder--and pouted at him. Shishido had to laugh--just the way those eyes went so wide, and the way that lower lip pursed, just so, damp and pink... Damn. So friggin' cute sometimes... "Shishido-san, are you teasing me?"

The softness hit him, sometimes, like a knife--and yeah, Ootori made him soft, and he'd always mind, because Shishido Ryou wasn't soft... but there was something about watching that lower lip tremble, just a little, that made him mind a little less. He reached out and cupped his Choutarou's chin, gently, and ran his thumb lightly over that soft, kissable little curve, the skin smooth, slick, maybe just a little catch of dryness. "Hell, no."

And he meant that. He might not have had the words to tell Ootori how special he was--and even if he'd had them, he didn't know if they would've ever come out of his mouth, anyway--but he hadn't been teasing when he'd said that Ootori was talented. He hadn't been teasing when he'd said Ootori was cute, either.

And, well, maybe it was better that he didn't tell his partner how hot he was. He was enough of a tease sometimes, as it was.

"Here. Gimme your hand for a bit," he reached out for Ootori's other hand, and shook his head--well, at least the print marks on the calluses were fading, and a little bit of the red was gone, but all the muscles were in it were tense, almost twitching. "Hey, mind if I try something?"

Ootori blinked at him, once, slowly--and shook his head.

His stepdad liked massages--Shishido had found that out when he'd gone to visit his mom over the Christmas break. It'd been almost comforting to see, though, that when Shishido's stepdad had gotten his backrub from Shishido's mom, the next thing he did was turn around and give Shishido's mom one, which was just fair. And after she'd made a great dinner for all of them--Shishido, and his twin halfsibs, a boy and a girl, and her husband, and herself--Shishido had watched his stepdad sit her down on the couch to start rubbing her shoulders, and move his way up to massaging her temples. He'd come to the conclusion that maybe his stepdad wasn't such a bad guy. He hadn't even asked Shishido to do the dishes while he was giving Shishido's mom a backrub--Shishido had gone and done them on his own.

That wasn't the point, though.

Shishido splayed the fingers of the long hand cradled in his, even as Ootori watched him, curiously. How did this go, again? Oh, right. It was a little bit of a weird, uncomfortable thing for him to do with his hands--holding with his ring finger and pinkie onto the bit of Ootori's palm that his thumb and pointer were connected to, between the fingers, and then between Ootori's pinkie and ring finger with the pinkie and ring of his other hand--and his blunt, scarred hands looked so, well, indelicate against Ootori's long fingers.

But then he saw Ootori's eyes half-close and his mouth move in a little pursed "Oh" as Shishido pressed his thumbs into the middle of his partner's palm and slowly pushed outwards. Oh, he got it--the way his hands were holding Ootori's, he could still move his own thumbs pretty freely while at the same time stretching out the muscles along Ootori's palms for easy access. It wasn't very hard, despite the fact he had to push pretty deeply--Ootori had strong hands, and it made Shishido grin, a little, to think about it--of course he had strong hands, his roommate was a Hyotei regular. All he had to do was keep stroking out with the ball of both thumbs... then letting go of the weird position and just stroking upwards along the length of those graceful fingers, rubbing each of them slowly between his thumb and pointer, knuckle to fingertip and back down again. And when he realised that the hand in his was all limp, and glanced up through his lashes--sure enough, his Choutarou had leaned his head back against the back of the couch, mouth just a little slack, and eyes closed.

Shishido grinned, a little. Sure, there was something to being able to squash your opponent flat on the courts--but there was most definitely a kick to being able to put your boyfriend into what looked a damned lot like bliss just by rubbing his hands.

Made him wonder what else he could do to put Ootori in--

Maybe it was the sound of Shishido gritting his teeth and slapping himself, once--hard--that made Ootori's eyes drift open, looking a little disoriented as he glanced at the hand lying in his lap. "Oh. Wow, Shishido-san, that was..."

Shishido just smiled, and rubbed his palm surreptitiously over the red mark he was pretty sure was going to swell on his cheek. "Hey, anytime." Shishido hesitated, for a moment, then leaned over to press a kiss to that soft, plush mouth--and he only held it for a little more than a couple of seconds. Just enough to distract him. "That's what I'm here for, right?"

Ootori was blinking at him--which meant that he hadn't let himself be distracted, and had probably noticed the mark. Damn it. "Shishido-san, did you hit yourself?"

There really wasn't any good way to answer that. While reaching over and stroking his roommate's stomach, nibbling on his shoulder, might've been sort of acceptable--and, hey, in Shishido's book, if Ootori didn't mind, then it was acceptable, and Ootori most definitely hadn't looked like he minded--when said roommate was walking around half-naked... somehow, having dirty thoughts while he was massaging Ootori's long, graceful hands, tense from too much violin, seemed just... well... plain dirty. "S'nothing," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck under his growing hair, more than a little embarrassed. "Feeling better?"

Ootori watched him for a moment longer, eyes wide and dark and worried, and Shishido had to chuckle, a little chagrined, at the concern in them, waving it off. Finally, Ootori nodded, his lower lip tucked gently between his teeth, gaze soft. "Thank... thank you, Shishido-san. I think... I think I needed that."

Slowly, he raised the same hand, and Shishido half-smiled, crooked, as those long, graceful fingers moved slowly through his growing hair, the tingle of them as they brushed his scalp familiar. He wouldn't have let anyone else pet him like that, really--'cause Hell, he wasn't a dog--but Ootori had said he did it because, well, he loved the way Shishido's hair looked, and felt, through his fingers, and well, it did feel good. "Hell, Ootori, if all you need's a hand rub every time you're in a mood..."

Ootori's vaguely amused look of consternation over his shoulder as he rose from the couch and reached for his violin again made Shishido grin--that obviously hadn't been what Ootori had meant--but then again, it hadn't been what Shishido had really wanted to say, either.

Damn it, Ootori, I'm here for you. It's the only thing I'm pretty sure I can do right--and Hell, if I can't do that right, then nothing else is really worth doing.

He hated being this sappy. He really, really did.

Which was why, maybe, when Ootori looked at his music stand again with a sigh and made as if to put away the violin he'd just picked up--Shishido sometimes thought his roommate just reached for it by reflex every time the case was open--Shishido commented, almost casually, "Guess you are giving up, huh."

Ootori's eyes snapped towards him--narrowed. Shishido was very, very careful not to keep the traces of a smile from curving his lips (his Choutarou, he'd found, was too damned good at being able to tell when he was trying not to smile) as he arched both eyebrows. "I mean, c'mon. If you can't do it, you can't do it, whatever. Figure out another piece."

It was pretty funny, really. Ootori Choutarou really was normally the gentlest person Shishido knew--but anyone who thought that meant that he gave up easily, could be broken easily, was an idiot who was just asking to be hit by a Scud Serve. The expression dawning on his roommate's face might have been damned unfamiliar, Shishido thought, to anyone who wasn't used to how hard-headed the boy could be when he had his sights set on some kind of goal--and no-one knew how stubborn Ootori was better than his doubles partner.

Ootori hesitated, once, and then Shishido watched as his partner's mouth firmed, and he muttered, "Mada mada." He picked up his bow, tightening it and running his finger along the edge of the taut white fibres before he reached into his case for the amber chunk of resin (though Shishido had never understood how the thing was bright yellow but the bow left white powdery flecks all over Ootori's violin.) "I'll try one more time, and if it's the same as before... I'll ask Sakaki-sensei if I can do another piece."

Sakaki-sensei. Their psycho tennis coach. Shishido scowled--well, that figured, no wonder the piece must've been brutally hard. It must have not been assigned by the orchestra conductor, but by the Music Teacher Himself--maybe he shouldn't have egged Ootori on like that, if the piece was just that difficult--

But Shishido already knew that it wouldn't be 'the same as before' by the time Ootori put his bow to the strings with a deep, deep breath, and half-closed his eyes. He knew, because the little line of frustration that had looked like it had been engraved on Ootori's forehead when last Shishido had looked out the door was gone, and the white line of his lips was soft and rosy as he breathed a couple of times--and started to play.

It was a pretty short piece compared to some of the things he'd heard from Ootori, and fast, but Shishido couldn't have stood up to move, couldn't have torn his eyes away from that face, even if he'd wanted to, maybe.

Shishido thought, sometimes, watching him play that violin, that if he and Ootori ever got around to, well... actually doing it, that maybe Ootori's face would look a little like that, when it felt good for him. He'd be quiet, because there was music in his hands, and it didn't need to be in his mouth--and damned if that wasn't a thought that was just too squishy for words. And maybe it should have made Shishido a little jealous that his Choutarou looked like that with his violin in his hands and his music spread open on the stand in front of him, because, well, the truth was that he wanted to be the only one to put that kind of look on his partner's face, but...

But the truth was, Ootori was just so damned beautiful with his eyes half-closed like that like just the tiniest flash of mahogany, his mouth just a little bit parted and damp like he'd just been kissed... maybe that was part of the reason that, well, he could deal with watching Ootori play. He liked watching him, actually. Ootori just... well, took such pleasure in it. He couldn't be jealous of something that his Choutarou loved so much, and maybe he could be glad, then, that Ootori had never shown any interest in any other guy, because...

No, he didn't like that think about that.

Yep, no mistake. When Ootori got something right, even if it took awhile, there was just no denying that he got it right--and it showed in the way he arched his head a little higher, and breathed just a little faster, like it was a good kind of surprise when the music sped up, his hands flying like he didn't even need to think about the fact that he had a bow in one hand and strings under the fingers of the other, and on the last page of the piece--Shishido watched with something almost like wonder as Ootori closed his eyes altogether, and just ended on a heartbeat chord, without even a flourish.

"Damn, Choutarou," Shishido whispered, a little surprised to find his voice thick in his throat as Ootori lowered his bow, and then his violin, looking a little dazed, almost, as he hugged it to his chest. It wasn't lust--well, it wasn't just lust--that got his throat all tight like that. It was... ah, Hell, he didn't know what it was, but it felt good, and achy, and a lot of things. He never really tried to go through them--never really wanted to. "Damn."

Never needed to, because Ootori was right there.

"I... I got it." His partner looked almost confused as he looked at the music booklet, pleated open in front of him, and Shishido saw that his hands were shaking, again. "I did it."

He tried for a grin, instead, and found it surprisingly genuine despite the way his voice wanted to shake, almost, with just how--well, how beautiful he'd been. The music hadn't been bad at all, but Ootori... "Yeah," he murmured, past the knot. "Told you you could."

Shishido's eyes went wide as Ootori threw his arms around his neck, the violin suddenly sitting cradled on the sofa next to them, bow almost flung to clatter to the tabletop, laughing in that soft little almost-laugh that shook inside him--the kind that Shishido couldn't really hear, but could feel trembling when Ootori hugged him. It had become, maybe, one of his favourite feelings, the way that laughter vibrated in Ootori's chest, even though no-one else seemed to know it was there. "I did it!"

Ootori pulled away, his eyes too bright, radiant--there was the brief, heavy print of his warmth left in Shishido's chest, or maybe it was deeper than that. Well, of course he'd done it. Shishido chuckled, hoarsely--Ootori might have doubted himself, but sure as Hell he hadn't doubted him. "'Course you did."

Shishido leaned forward and stole those parted, joyful lips, tasting the laughter and the dry exultation of success on them--there'd been a time, not so long before, when he'd grabbed Ootori's shoulders and congratulated him, but... but this was better. This was so much better, and Shishido closed his eyes and breathed against those lips, slipping lower to nibble gently at that bottom lip that had been trembling with strain earlier, and then sliding his mouth slowly over those familiar contours. The brief catch of Ootori's upper lip. The soft, smiling corners. The rise of his cheekbones. The angle of those wide, closed eyes with those dark silver-gray lashes. Then back down to the warm curve of those lips as he coaxed Ootori's mouth open with a little nudge of his thumb against that surprisingly stubborn pointed chin. He knew them all already, but it was so damned nice to be reminded.

A moment later, Ootori was boneless, almost collapsed onto his chest with his knees on the rug and his body between Shishido's sprawled legs, and Shishido had to grin, a little breathless himself. He loved it how kissing did that to his roommate--just kissing, not anything really graphic, but... yeah, this was damned satisfying, too.

Shishido really needed to be starting dinner, if they wanted to get anything to eat, and it was his turn to cook, anyway--and he had a paper to write, and readings to do... but instead, he raised a finger to Ootori's chin and grinned, saying words that tasted strangely familiar in his mouth as he nudged his roommate back into the land of the lucid with a hip. "How about one more time, so you don't forget how it feels?"

Ootori blinked up at him from his position slumped across his chest, hazily, looking a little confused and more than a little thoughtful, and then mumbled, "Shishido-san, I don't think I could ever forget how that feels."

It took him a moment to realise that Ootori wasn't talking about his music, and he had to laugh, the slow golden glow spreading through him like a long, slow note, maybe. "Baka. I meant that piece you've got to play."

Realisation blinked across Ootori's eyes, cheeks sparking that familiar flame of crimson, and he scrambled to his feet, towering over Shishido. This time, he didn't try to stop his roommate when his hand went to his cross, but Ootori didn't clutch it--just looped a finger through it, and smiled, a little sheepishly, as he picked up his violin, still blushing. "Oh."

Shishido settled back in the sofa, propping one ankle on the opposite knee--almost-casually, and he was pretty sure it at least partway blocked the view of what that kiss had done to him--and chuckled to himself, almost wryly. There were days when Ootori seemed to know exactly what he was doing to Shishido, because, well, there was no mistaking his actions for anything other than what they were... and then there were just things, almost innocent, that Shishido could figure out easily enough that his partner had no idea he was doing. And it drove him absolutely wild sometimes...

Though Shishido almost covered himself during a brief moment of almost-panic when Ootori paused, his violin already tucked underneath his chin, and lowered both fingering hand and bow to his sides. (It always freaked Shishido out a little when he did that, too because it meant that the violin was just dangling from the crook of his shoulder and chin and always looked like it was about to fall, but what did he know, right?) "Shishido-san?"

"Hm?" he cocked his head, because there was something moving--a little like memories, or maybe the look in Ootori's eyes when he was talking to his mom--across that familiar face. Not that teasing look he'd gotten too familiar with. And he was glad that his hands, somehow, hadn't done anything more than twitch from their position draped over the back of the couch.

Ootori just smiled, slowly, shook his head, and raised his hands again, sliding his fingertips up the black... what was it called? A fingering board?--until they rested, lightly, on those strings, and he raised his bow; it was funny how gentle his hands were when he played the violin. "You... I guess you don't remember, but... what you just said? 'One more time, so you don't forget how it feels?' That's what you said the first time I got my serve right."

"Oh, yeah?" Oh, yeah, Shishido definitely remembered that day--though not what he'd said. He'd been trying too hard to squash down the urge to hug Ootori in triumph ('cause damn it, Shishido Ryou just didn't hug people, even after they'd just done what some might have considered impossible) and had only barely succeeded--he'd just grabbed Ootori's shoulders, instead, before deciding that the other side of that stone wall was a safer distance to be at. He smiled at the memory--at a brief instant of thinking, well, what might it have been like if he had dragged Ootori's mouth down to his for a celebratory kiss. "Well, isn't this the same?"

Ootori laughed, a little, and wiggled his fingers on the strings. "Not so different, maybe."

Shishido had a paper to write. He had things to read, and dinner to make for both of them.

Instead, Shishido waited until the last chord broke across the walls like a punctuation point for the second time that day, waited until he saw the end of the music move across Ootori's face and his roommate sighed, shaking just a little as his eyes came open and he looked down at the music stand.

No, tennis was never going to compete with music in Ootori's eyes, maybe, Shishido thought. And he could see the joy in what his roommate was doing when he held that violin against his shoulder, how he felt when he was playing, in Ootori's eyes--maybe Shishido would never be able to compete, either, with his roommate's first love...

It was probably a good thing, then, that that was a game he wasn't planning to play. Wasn't willing to. And, whatever, if he wasn't going to stand on that court--well, Hell, he could still cheer Ootori on.

And maybe rub his Choutarou's hands when the playing got to be too much.

He might not have been able to do anything else for his best friend and roommate--but that, he could do.

Shishido smiled, faintly as he took the two steps forward, and cupped one hand along the fine slant of his roommate's angled angel face, and blinked cheerfully up into those startled, softly chocolate eyes, still stained a little darker with pupil. "So. China, huh?" he paused, and thought about it. "When, again?"

"Shishido-san!"

Paganini was such a violinist that it was claimed that he'd sold his soul to the devil, and that his dexterity with the G-string (the fourth string from the top on a violin, you pervert) was due to the fact that the devil had imprisoned him alone with only his violin for company, and that one by one, the upper three strings broke (they break more easily, because they're thinner) until only the G-string was left. ^_^

'Kay, culture note for the day finished. ^_^

And the title: "Itsu de mo" means 'whenever' and, well, the "perpetuo" in "moto perpetuo" means 'always.' I'm such a dweeb. ^_^

The End

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