Title: working on it
Part: 1/?
Author: Contre
Genre: Yaoi
Pairings: MitsuixMiyagi
Rating: PG-13
Archive: Anyone who wants to can- would appreciate being told of it in advance, though
Mail: vide@yyhmail.com
Warnings: Alotta swearing ahead, folks. What can I say? Those basketball players have potty mouths. :3
Feedback: Both posting on forum and e-mails are fine.
Author's Notes: Convoluted fic! Based on a tradition we have at my high school. ^_^ The seniors hold a "Senior Servant" thing each year, for both school spirit and to raise money for their class. Seniors are auctioned off to the underclassman who bids the most. For one day, the 'winner' gets to boss around the senior. However, seniors can't buy other seniors, and an order has to be followed, unless it breaks a law, or something. Thought'd be fun to toss the boys into this situation, and see what happens. ^_^
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Slam Dunk, nor do I claim to own it.
This fucking sucked. Not only did he have to go along with this /stupid/ idea, but of all people. He gritted his teeth. Stupid sweet-talking Kogure. Even Gori had lucked out, this time. The bastard had the good luck to be paired with his cute first-year sister, but he, Mitsui Hisashi, had the /incredible/ bad luck to be paired with-
"Hurry it up, Mitsui-san. You don't want to make me late to class," he smirked, "do you?"
Goddamn punk. After today, he vowed to wring the neck of one cocky point guard who had too much extra cash for his own good. And then maybe he'd go after the Student Council for suggesting the idea in the first place. The third-years didn't need money /this/ desperately, did they? He swore under his breath and took another book out of the locker. Any idiot could see that the idea was just begging to be abused. What the fuck was up with auctioning off the entire senior class to the underclassmen for a day?
"Senior servant my ass. More like /slave/," he muttered darkly.
"Hey, what's taking so long?" he queried. "Getting to old to carry a few books?" Unlike the older boy who was loaded down with various textbooks, Ryota had a carefree look on his face, and was impatiently tapping his foot.
"I'm FINE," he gritted, slamming the locker. He turned around to see the second year look at him expectantly. "/What/? I got your goddamned books like you asked."
"Mitsui-san, did you forget? I don't have math until the afternoon. My first class," he stated slowly with a growing smirk on his face, "is gym. Did I forget to tell you? Sorry, but you'll have to put all those books back," and with a laugh, he turned around and started off down the hall.
Screw wringing his neck. He worked at the combination lock and let out a low growl. Death was too good for him.
Damn. He sighed as he rubbed his neck, eyes straying longingly out the open window. After being made to run laps during gym for that bastard, Mitsui wanted nothing more than to find a nice cool spot in the shade, and rest for the remainder of the balmy spring day.
Unfortunately, he was stuck in class, taking notes on the orders of one soon to be very painfully dead point guard. Who was currently taking a pleasant nap, unbeknownst to the teacher, even though Mitsui had all but erected neon signs declaring the unconscious state of said lazy bum, who, all things considered, should be punished with a week's worth of detention.
Why the hell was he tired enough to take a nap escaped him, considering that all the bastard did was sit on his ass and watch him run 20 tortuous laps around the gym. He snorted in disgust. There really was no justice in the world.
He glanced at the doodles and the cramped, scribbled notes that decorated no more than half the page, and decided to give up taking notes, on the pretense that Ryota never studied. Fiddling with his pencil, he heard a slight snore and snuck a glance to his left.
He had met Ryota one day last year when the uppity freshman had decided that enough was enough, to hell with the “sempai” crap. The back and forth sniping soon grew more serious, and that encounter had ended with detention for both. Their relationship had grown steadily worse, until Mitsui had decided that things were getting out of hand, and the first year needed a lesson. Even after his reconciliation with the basketball team, Ryota had never been particularly warm towards him. However, after being convinced that the former gangster didn’t hold any grudges towards him and wasn’t planning on beating him into a pulp, Ryota had grown friendlier and the two regularly teamed up against that stupid moronic redhead. The second year was a better companion than Mitsui had expected, and their light banter had been a welcome relief from the cowed glances and apologetic voices he had come to expect during his time as a gangster. But it still came as a surprise when Ryota had bid on him. For all his token grumbling and bitching, Mitsui didn’t really mind doing this as much as he thought he should have. If he had been stuck with some idiotic infatuated girl, he wouldn’t know how to get through the day. But he felt comfortable with the second year.
All things considered, he had lucked out. And, well. The prospect of spending a day with Ryota wasn’t as much of a chore as he would’ve thought. Sure, the second year had taken full advantage of this opportunity, but that was to be expected, and he hadn’t been asked to do anything seriously embarrassing yet.
And maybe he even liked it. Liked spending the day with someone that knew what he had been, had felt first-hand the repercussions of his hot temper, and was able to act at ease. Not many people would have fallen asleep on Mitsui Hisashi, bad boy extraordinaire, especially not someone he had professed to hating so much.
But his promise to Anzai-sensei wasn’t lightly meant. Even if his past self had hated and despised the freshman stupid enough to go against him, maybe the athlete in him liked Ryota more than he should.
…Huh. Well, he hadn’t planned on having any startling revelations about himself, but things never went as planned when Ryota was involved. He rested his head on the desk and just looked at him for awhile.
Before Ryota stirred and Mitsui knocked over several papers in an attempt to appear to be writing down notes.
“Ngh,” he groaned, before noticing Mitsui, “What the hell were you staring at me for? …That’s kinda creepy, Mitsui-san.”
He stole a quick peek at the clock which said they had less than a minute left.
“…Well?” he said, straightening up, “And what about my notes?”
Just as the bell rang, Mitsui hooked his foot around one of the legs of Ryota’s chair, and shoved him backwards. Teach the bastard to… uh… be such a damn good companion. Or something. In any case, it was all the second year's fault.
He ignored the muffled squawk behind him and gathered his books in a frenzy. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to dodge the books that came after him.