HanaKimi, Akiha/Umeda, PG, 882 words
Umeda doesn't believe in "perfect" days.
The weather was perfect for summer, blazing sun that scorched across the white-gray-blues of the school buildings and sidewalks, glittering against the deep green of the scattered trees and bushes, with a blue, blue sky and a faint ruffle of a breeze from the east. Students were sprawled outside in the shade in various states of undress and others were running around, shouting, laughing, and generally having a good time taking advantage of the fair weather. Classes had let out for the day and, so far, the health clinic had only seen two patients: one for a minor sunburn and another for a banged-up elbow that had met the wrong end of lacrosse stick.
Umeda bandaged up the second-year with a few short words about his natural grace and kicked him out of the air-conditioned room.
The day had gone surprisingly well; he’d had his smoke breaks without interruption, lunch break had seen him at a nearby cafe that served good food, rather than just that of the barely edible variety, and he’d gotten a good laugh at seeing Nakatsu trying to impress Mizuki with his soccer skills, tripping over the ball with increasing frequency as Mizuki lounged on the grass, fanning herself, and bared more skin with each upward roll of her shirt sleeves or uniform pants.
He’d just suffered through the terror of his older sister yesterday, meaning Io wouldn’t be around to bother him for at least another three days, and his night looked promising, free of paperwork and that clingy university student he’d met a week ago.
The day appeared nothing short of perfect.
Umeda was certain something was about to go Horribly, Horribly Wrong.
He was suspicious by nature, and, really, who could help that after growing up in the kind of household that he had? Plus, Fate just didn’t give Umeda Hokuto a break. It just wasn’t done. He sat in his office with his feet propped up on his desk, chewing on the end of an unlit cigarette, and scowled. He tapped his fingers irritably against the armrest.
Any time now…
Lazy sunlight lolled in through his window and spilled across his desk, cheerfully reminding him of the gorgeous weather. Umeda’s dark look didn’t disappear.
“Senpai~!” A shadow replaced the sunshine, bobbing up and falling across the desk.
Umeda stared at the open window in undisguised horror.
“WHY ARE YOU UNCLOTHED?” he demanded, his feet hitting the ground with a hard thump. The cigarette dangled precariously in his mouth as he gripped the chair. He’d expected something like this—but not like this. That idiot! What the hell was he thinking? “AKIHA. YOU ARE IN PUBLIC! THERE ARE MINORS AROUND, YOU IDIOT—”
“Stop shouting, senpai,” Hara Akiha said reproachfully, swinging a bare leg up and over the window ledge. He hefted himself in and Umeda saw that he was clothed in dark blue swimming trunks decorated with schools bright orange fish and green seaweed. “I would never risk senpai’s job,” Akiha added cheerfully, wriggling his toes in his sandals. “I just wanted to go swimming!”
“…” Umeda’s put his head in his hands, speechless.
Akiha’s blond hair was pulled back and up in a high, jaunty ponytail. “There’s a public pool just down the street. Come with me, senpai! It’s the perfect weather for it.” He slung a towel over the side of the chair and plopped himself down in Umeda’s lap, reaching for the remaining buttons on Umeda’s half-undone shirt.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Umeda snarled, slapping his hands away.
“Undressing you,” Akiha said with a slow smile, leaning in close. His fingers slipped back over the shirt, flitting over revealed skin briefly and then returning to the buttons. “I like seeing senpai’s skin.” His voice was low and tickled warmly against Umeda’s ear.
“GET OFF ME.” Umeda shoved at the man on his lap, glaring and shivering just the slightest because the idiot’s fingers were cold against his skin. No, dammit, he was not lying. “I’m at work, you moron!”
“Work’s over!” Akiha chirped, tugging at his shirt again. “It’s playtime now, senpai!”
The door opened just as Umeda was making his best effort to strangle Akiha or, at the very least, valiantly and manfully wriggle out of his vise-like grip. “Sensei,” said Mizuki, bouncing in with a bright smile, “Sano bought popsicles and I was wondering if you wanted—” She broke off and stared.
Sunlight glinted off Akiha’s earrings as he waved with one hand, the other clamped around Umeda’s left wrist. “Hi, Mizuki!”
“Um, er,” she said. She blinked. “What are you doing, Akiha-san?”
“Senpai and I are going swimming!” Akiha announced, dodging Umeda fist with practiced ease. He slid off the other man’s lap and rose to his feet, marching towards the window with a snarling, half-undressed Umeda in tow. His sandals slapped with a resounding cheer against the floor. “And popsicles! What a great idea! I love popsicles!”
“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU,” vowed Umeda, glasses askew and hair disheveled. He looked flushed. “Slowly.”
Mizuki watched, bemusedly, as they disappeared out the window in a loud tangle of threats and exclamations about swimming and having fun and “it’s summer, senpai, you should relax and why don’t I buy you a popsicle, okay?”
Notes: Because I