Yuletide fic: Slam Dunk, Sendoh/Hanamichi, PG: "Chase"

[jamjar]

Title: Chase
Fandom: Slam Dunk (manga and anime)
Previously posted here, in the Yuletide archive for the obscure fandoms secret santa
Written for orangensaft for the Yuletide 2006 Challenge
Not gen.
Notes: One of the things I like best about Yuletide is the chance to write in those fandoms you've always meant to write in, but never got around to, like this one for me.
All comments and criticisms appreciated.


It's a good thing, Sendoh thinks, that he has a sense of humour. If he didn't... well, he'd be like the coach, trying to both implode and explode at the same time. He's panting, and his muscles are shaking, his knees feel like they're made of jam and it's a small comfort that Shohoku looks about the same.

With one exception, of course.

Sakuragi Hanamichi had looked as bad. Redfaced and sweating, bent over and leaning on his knees when there was a timeout. Playing a game like this was hard, Sakuragi's impressive stamina warring against his complete inability to conserve his energy. The sort of game where everyone looks beaten until the final score, and then only one team does.

That was then, this is now, and Sakuragi is jumping. Five minutes after the final bell and winning is all it takes, apparently. He's bright-eyed and glowing, the lights picking up his red hair like a particularly gaudy halo. It's unnatural and sickening, and even the rest of his team, happy in victory, look like they want to shoot him for his obscene amount of energy.

Obscene, Sendoh thinks, then stops himself. Shared locker-rooms aren't fun at the best of times.

Sendoh likes girls who are easy-going, laidback. He likes the awkward ones, too, as long as they don't expect him to smooth life over for them. He doesn't mind moods, as long as they're quiet or don't involve him. It's not because he doesn't care, exactly, just that he doesn't like wasting energy when he doesn't have to.

He likes boys the same, easy to be with, and no trouble when they're not.

Sakuragi Hanamichi is an exception.

Sendoh is not, despite the accusations, particularly lecherous. He just likes sex, likes spending time on it, and it's easy. A matter of waiting, sometimes, and then action. Easy. Because he is not particularly lecherous, he isn't quite ready for the comments his own mind is coming up with.

Stamina, his mind says, licking its lips. He could go all night and still be up for it the next day.

And that's a ridiculous thought, because more than a couple of hours, maximum, is physically uncomfortable and utterly pointless.

He blushes so easily. Wouldn't be able to hide a thing. Another stupid thought, because a) Sakuragi is incapable of hiding anything anyway, and b) in Sendoh's experience, sex is not a time people hide things.

It's a disturbing realisation that his normal, healthy sex-drive is becoming something more perverse.


+++

"I just want him," Sendoh says. Trying to explain to himself as much as Fukuda. Fukuda is easy to talk to, as long as you cut off his escape routes and don't expect him to reply.

Fukuda says nothing, in a loud way that asks Sendoh to shut up.

"It's probably a phase. Or imprinting. Something. He's not," Sendoh says, leaning forwards for emphasis, "even very pretty."

"Practise," Fukuda says, getting up. "We're going to be late."

Sendoh nods and collects his things. "Yeah." He wraps the remaining sandwich in its wrapper, puts the unfinished Aquarius in his bag for later and gets up. "Not pretty," he says again, thinking of Hanamichi's pink face clashing against his red hair, the wide, close-eyed grin. He shakes his head. "But charming," he says. "Certainly charming."

"Practice," Fukuda says, meaning "Our friendship is lost to me."

Sendoh pats him on the back. "One day, you'll suffer a temporary insanity of your own, and I'll be there to support you."

Fukuda shrugs off his arm and looks panicked.

Sendoh laughs, easily and naturally, because he knows it worries Fukuda more than actual evil laughter would. Sendoh is not an evil or malicious man, but he knows some people who might disagree.

+++

It's a one-on-one with Rukawa Kaede, and Sendoh is breathing hard. Rukawa isn't sweating, isn't breathing at all, like he's made from ice, and Sendoh wonders if he's going to leave frost on the court, if it'll damage the floor or make him slip. Ice is probably cheating, but he's gonna beat him anyway. He can feel the ball hitting the palm of his hand, watching the ice-Rukawa. The stars overhead are bright enough that he can see the court clearly, hear the sound of the fans around. He gets past Rukawa, and the basket's half a court away, but he throws and it's perfect, perfect.

"Sendoh!" Hanamichi says. He's dressed almost exactly like Rukawa's cheerleaders, but his T-shirt has a "1000" on it, and his skirt is bright red. "You won!"

Sendoh shrugs modestly. "Lucky shot."

"You beat that fox-faced bastard!" Hanamichi grins and rubs his head, still holding the pom-pom. The red and gold strands catch on his short crop. "I could've beaten him, but Gori said I shouldn't."

"I know," Sendoh says. "That's why I did it for you."

Hanamichi grins at him, then leans forward and utterly fails to quietly whisper, "You wanna go somewhere?"

Sendoh puts his hand on Hanamichi's thigh, pushes the skirt up and Hanamichi isn't wearing any underwear and, impossible as it seems, is a natural redhead, and--

--And the alarm rings, loud, intrusive, and Sendoh wakes up with his cock digging into his mattress. He groans and lets his head fall back on to his pillow. The dream's fading, but he can remember Sakuragi, and a skirt and pompoms and...

"I'm a filthy pervert," he tells his pillow.

"Mama! Akira says he's a filthy pervert," his sister says from the doorway. "And he's gonna be late for school again, she yells as she runs down stairs. Sendoh groans again and wonders if he can get to the shower.

In the shower, he tries to repress the image of Sakuragi in the cheerleader outfit, and when that fails, imagines himself peeling it off him, so he's at least decently naked. When he's finished, he steps out, wipes the fog off the mirror and stares at his own, sleepy-eyed reflection. "I need help," he tells mirror-Sendoh.

You need to get laid, Mirror-Sendoh tells him back.

Sendoh shakes his head, brushes his teeth and heads downstairs.

+++


Koshino is a good friend and a very bad person, because he drops a bit of paper in front of Sendoh at lunch and says, "Here. Sakuragi goes to practice at a court in Yaotome most weekends.” Koshino lowers his voice, but keeps it loud enough to make sure that Fukuda and Uzomi, sitting at the other end of the table and trying to avoid their eyes, can hear. "All this frustration, it's effecting your game," he says. "Maybe Sakuragi can help you work on that. A little wholesome activity, get the blood flowing, maybe have a--"

"Akagi!" Uzuomi says, loud enough that everyone in the room turns to look at them. "I think Akagi might be playing in the next game! We should come up with a strategy!" he adds, a little desperately. "Yes, a, a strategy, something I can work out on notebooks, which I left in the classroom. I'm just going to..." he gets up, fast enough to knock his chair down behind him.

"I'll help," Fukuda offers.

"You're not a nice man," Sendoh tells Koshino when the others have gone.

The court's in Yaotome park, and Sendoh can hear Sakuragi's striking voice even before he sees him. He puts on a smile, changes it to something less obvious, and waves as he comes into view. "Hey, Sakuragi-kun! You come here too?"

"Are you spying on me?" Sakuragi says, crossed arms and sharp eyebrows drawn down in a V. His whole body is a casually violent threat, and even the short hair just makes him look tougher. Sendoh represses the part of him that starts thinking about being pushed against a wall, down an alley, on to his knees, and tries his best, easy smile.

"I'm just getting a little practice in," he says.

"You're trying to spy on Ryonan's secret star player!" Sakuragi says. "I'm not gonna fall for--"

Sendoh bites his tongue on pointing out that it's been almost a year, and everyone who's ever played, watched or heard of basketball in the whole prefecture knows of Sakuragi Hanamichi. He's not really the sort of thing you can keep hidden. Instead, he holds his ball up as an explanation and says, "I just wanted to practice, maybe see I can find someone to practice with who I don't see every day. Don't get me wrong, I like playing with my team, but sometimes, you need to play against people you don't know so well." He shrugs, and wonders if his explanation is convincingly casual or pure babble. "It's good to practice adapting your style, you know."

Sakuragi looks at him with undisguised suspicion, but Sendoh keeps his looks sincere, and adds, "It might give Rukawa a bit of a surprise. Stop you getting predictable."

And there, he has him, right in the palm of his hand. Sakuragi's expression brightens until his smile is almost blinding and he slaps Sendoh on his back so hard that Sendoh almost falls forward. "You're a good man, aren’t you? Even if you are in Ryonan! Wanting to help me defeat Rukawa, you're really a good man." He turns around and yells at the other boys hanging around the court. "Hey! This guy's gonna help me beat Rukawa!"

It is, Sendoh thinks, a good thing they were on the other side of court. Even at that distance, the laughter is deafening.

"Hahahaha! What is he, some kind of magician?"

"Ah!" said the one with the moustache that looks older than "No, he's a demon-angel reincarnation, here to help save the world against the forces of darkness, trying to find the modern reincarnations of the ancient heroines, and Hanamichi is Magic Girl Adventure Hanachan! Seeker of Justice!"

Three of them strike a Sailormoon pose with disturbing accuracy then scatter as Sakuragi -Sendoh will not think of him as Magic Girl Adventure Hanachan- chases after them, laying them out with three practised headbutts. The fourth comes over, shaking his head.

"Noma is far too interested in that," he says. He looks at Sendoh with his hands in his pockets, and his expression is utterly unworried. Sakuragi is naturally imposing, with his height and obvious strength and aggressively red hair, but this guy is watchful. Sendoh is used to a certain degree of respect, caused by his height and obvious physicality, but this boy is a head shorter and not worried at all. Sendoh can picture him in a flash suit, white BMW with tinted windows and lots of junior thugs calling him Aniki.

"It's nice of you to want to help Hanamichi," he says. He's smiling, but he's watching Sendoh carefully.

Sendoh tries very hard to put every thought he's ever had about Sakuragi Hanamichi far, far away from his head. "He’s fun to play with," he says, and then winces.

Sakuragi's friend looks confused for a moment, then surprised, and then he doubles over laughing.

"Hey, Yohei! Why're you laughing?" Sakuragi says.

Yohei manages to straighten up long enough to say, "Hanamichi, you--" and then he collapses in laughter again.

Sakuragi looks at him, confused, then back at Sendoh. "What did you say to him?"

Sendoh shrugs. "Just that I like playing basketball with you. You're an interesting player." He risks it and pats Hanamichi on the arm. "There’s no-one else like you in the prefecture. Maybe the whole of Japan." He ignores the laughter this triggers.

"Yeah? Yeah!" Hanamichi says, rubbing the back of his head, grinning wide enough that his eyes almost disappear. "I know, I am, I know, better than everyone else. But you're pretty good too," he adds, as if worried about hurting Sendoh's feelings. He puts his hand across Sendoh's shoulders and pulls him in, casually friendly, patting his arm at the same time. It's the sort of casual touch you get a lot of on court, and less off. Sendoh has dated girls who were less friendly in public, and the fact that this means nothing to Sakuragi is almost entirely meaningless. He turns his body, just a little, so the casual arm across his shoulder is closer to a hug, and holds Hanamichi’s arm where he's patting Sendoh's chest, just light enough that it could be him stopping the patting, but the move turns their bodies into something closer. Sakuragi frowns slightly, and Sendoh can see the little bit of confusion, the position of their bodies saying something his mind isn't quite aware of. He smiles, and Sakuragi smiles back automatically, and it's just a little more than friendly, even if Sakuragi isn't quite aware of it.

“It’s lucky I met you here, Hanamichi,” Sendoh says testing the name. “I really wanted to play with you again.”

He’s watching for it, so he can see the beginning of?it’s not knowledge, not even awareness. It’s more like first possibility of the potential of the vaguest notion maybe entering his mind, when only seconds before, it wouldn’t have.

"You're in a public place," the boy -Yohei?- says, sounding amused.

"Huh?" Sakuragi turns to look at him and Sendoh, somewhat regretfully, steps back. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Yohei says. He shakes his head and catches Sendoh's eye. "Just pointing out something you didn't seem to notice." He smiles again. I know what you're doing, it says. "You know, Hanamichi's been rejected by over 50 girls. Maybe it's time for something different."

Hanamichi grabs his shoulders and headbutts him. Yohei rubs his forehead and looks at Sendoh, then shakes his head.

Sendoh picks up the ball where he dropped it. "Come on," he says. "Let's play."

Sakuragi --Hanamichi, by the second basket-- is as relentlessly enthusiastic in a one-on-one practise game as he is in a real game, and even though Sendoh usually isn't, is that little bit less inclined to take those potentially damaging risks, he plays back with all he has.

And wins, of course, because he's been playing since he was eight, and Hanamichi has been playing for only a year, but it's not as easy as it should be. He has to work, and he's sweating, flushed, his T-shirt sticking to him, and Hanamichi is just the same. Sendoh can see the movement of every muscle as his T-shirt ("Hanshin Tigers Go!") clings to his chest, stretching as his muscles flex, riding up when he stretches, jumping for the--

He hits the ground with a thump, knocked down by Hanamichi's attack. Hanamichi wasn't expecting it and lands on top of him, and for a moment Sendoh can feel him pressed against him, legs on either side, his face inches away, and then Hanamichi is back on his feet so fast Sendoh didn't even see him move and he's grabbed the ball and thrown it into the hoop. Hanamichi throws back his head and laughs in victory for a moment, before stopping, looking a little sheepish, and offering Sendoh his hand.

"Sorry," he says. "I didn't think I'd knock you down."

"I was distracted," Sendoh says, taking Hanamichi's hand and using it to pull himself up.

"In a game with me?" Hanamichi says, looking insulted.

"By you," Sendoh says, as if it's entirely reasonable.

Hanamichi frowns, and only then realises Sendoh is still holding his hand. He drops it and says, "You’re kind of a strange guy."

“So are you,” Sendoh says. Hanamichi’s expression is strangely hard to read for someone who usually shouts his emotions loud enough to be heard in Tibet. He’s not sure what that means, but he’s willing to push it, so he says, “I’m hungry. Do you want to get something to eat?” and when Hanamichi hesitates, he adds, “My treat.”

It’s not until he hears the cheering that he realises he completely forgot about Hanamichi’s friends.



+++

He pays himself and Hanamichi claiming that it's Winner's Treat, but manages to get out of paying for the others. They're tagging along like a bizarre but effective set of chaperons, although Mito Yohei is the only one that seems to know Sendoh's intentions are less than honourable. Sendoh tries to avoid picturing him as a stern father, because that way lies madness and Hanamichi as a blushing bride, and the realisation that Sendoh has read far too many of the wrong kind of books.

"So, Sendoh," Yohei says. "What do you like to do apart from playing basketball? Got any hobbies? Girlfriends?"

"I like going fishing," he says. "It's restful."

"Restful," the blond guy says, wistfully. "Hey, I remember that. It's like how the world was, before I met Hanamichi."

"What is it with you basketball players?" the moustache-guy says. "You and Rukawa--"

"What about Rukawa?" Hanamichi says, sitting down with a try piled high with burgers and onion rings.

"I'm not like Rukawa. I'm not narcoleptic," Sendoh says. Smiles. "Just lazy."

"Me too," Sakuragi says, in complete denial of the evidence.

"Yeah?"

"What he means is that he doesn't like doing homework. Or cleaning. Or laundry." His friend, the one that doesn't play basketball.


"What about kareoke?" Sendoh says. Karaoke booths are such useful places, private and at least semi-sound proof. "Do you like karaoke? I have this voucher for a place near here..."

He sees Yohei look at him, then shake his head. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Sendoh raises an eyebrow, but before he can ask, one of the others -Yuji? Nozomi?- get sup and says, "I've got a lot of-- uh, my mother said I can't go out with you guys anymore, you're a bad influence and--"

"And I've got a doctor's note saying for my ears and my brain and my soul, I have to be at least 50 metres from any karaoke booth with Hanamichi in it," says another, the blond one. "It's a tragedy, really, but doctor's orders and--"

The short, round one pats Sendoh on his back. "You're a brave man, Sendoh Akira. Brave and foolish."

They start to hum what sounds like a funeral march, then scatter when Hanamichi gets to his feet, red-faced.

"You don’t want to come?" Hanamichi asks Yohei. Sendoh tries to look calm when Yohei glances at him.

"No, you go ahead. I've got to look after the little monsters," he says cheerfully. "Hanamichi..."

"What?" Hanamichi says.

Yohei shakes his head. "Nothing. Have fun. Play nice."


+++

Naomi is manning the desk at Kaeru-Kareoke and Bar, and, knowing Sendoh well, apologises that they only have the small booths left, it might be a little cramped for two of them. "You're both so big," she says, with perfect innocence that is one of the things Sendoh had liked about her when they were together. "Why, I bet you're even bigger than Akira," she says, reaching across the desk and squeezing Hanamichi's arms. "So strong!" she says.

Hanamichi flushes and shoots Sendoh a sideways look, before rubbing the back of his head, embarrassed. Sendoh hurries him along to their booth before Naomi can do anything more. He settles down and puts on his first song, something cheerfully embarrassing. Cool gets them interested, but in his experience, shameless fun gets you further.

Hanamichi chooses to butcher something from Buck-Tick, and Sendoh returns the favour by picking an Enka song, which he does embarrassingly well, then doing both sides of a duet. Hanamichi is laughing so hard by the end that Sendoh has to pat him on the back, put his hand on his knee. He's never been with anyone as close to his own height. Well, there was Mana, but only when she was in her special platform shoes. Sakuragi is as tall, and probably stronger, more densely built.

"You've got your hand on my knee," Hanamichi says. He doesn't sound angry, so Sendoh leaves it there.

"If you're gonna--" Hanamichi starts to say, then he shakes his head, grabs Sendoh's hands andpushes them off him, then against the wall and kisses him. It's not a great kiss, even if it is, right now, a perfect one. Sendoh tilts his head so their noses stop mashing, changes the angles and softens it, just a little and there. Hanamichi goes with it --fast learner, he thinks-- and Hanamichi's still got his hands pinned, so the position is awkward, but Sendoh's flexible in every sense. It's rare, being held like this by someone with the strength to actually make it count, but he likes it, like he likes most things.

Pushy virgins he thinks approving, even if he doesn't know how accurate that is. He twists, enough to break the hold and make Hanamichi struggle to get it back, because of course, it's easier for Hanamichi to be doing, to be charging ahead. Thinking is where the trouble starts, so as long as he can keep this--

He gets his hand between their bodies and presses it against Hanamichi, more than just getting a feel and feels Hanamichi jerk against him. "My point," he says, and gets the reaction he wants when Hanamichi scowls, gets his own hand down Sendoh's shorts. It's not tentative, and Sendoh groans because Hanamichi holds him just the right side of hard enough, and he strokes, just for a second--

And then there's a sudden loud sound from the karaoke screen as his track ends and an ad for another band comes on, and Hanamichi straightens up, pulling his hand out of Sendoh's shorts.

"What?" Sendoh says.

"Not here," he says, hissing in what to him is probably a whisper. He looks at the door -frosted glass with clear patches, to prevent exactly the kind of things that almost happened.

Why not? Sendoh wants to ask, but he knows when not to push it. Hanamichi looks red, and Sendoh was right about how obvious he'd be in lust, same as he was with every other kind of emotion.

"I'm not desperate," Hanamichi says.

"I am," Sendoh interrupts.

"I could get lots of--" Hanamichi stops. "I'm just saying, I don't need to do it now or it's never gonna happen."

Sendoh tries to clear his head. Frustration is no-one's friend, but he needs to think. Hanamichi doesn't want to have sex in a karaoke booth which is, he reluctantly admits, not unreasonable. He closes his eyes, counts to ten then leans over and rubs Hanamichi's head, the short hair as tempting in its way as long hair is, and says, "Maybe this isn't the best place."

Hanamichi looks disappointed for a moment, then relieved. Sendoh's not quite sure how to take that, but he rubs Hanamichi's head again - the short hair feels soft one way, bristly the other- and Hanamichi grabs his hand and stops him. He pulls it off his head and for a moment, there's a weird sense of deja vu, Sendoh holding Hanamichi's hand like this earlier. Hanamichi's thumb moves across Sendoh's wrist and Sendoh has no idea if it's deliberate.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" Sendoh say. "I know a good fishing spot by a lake near here. It's very peaceful," he adds.

Hanamichi smiles, sudden and wide. The pink is fading from his face, clashing less with his hair. "I'm not," he says. "I'll scare the fish away." He sounds almost proud.

Sendoh shrugs and pulls his wrist, off-balancing Hanamichi enough that he almost falls into his lap, and thinks of Hanamichi fishing, holding a rod, swimming in the lake but oh! Sendoh forgot to tell him to bring swimming trunks. How unfortunate...

"Don't worry," he says. "We'll find something to do."

End.