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tennis_hellWho: Zaizen Hikaru and Hirakoba Rin
What: Crepe sabotage and cafe
When: A few weeks back
Rating: G
Clearly something was up. The crepe cart had refused to sell him a crepe and Hirakoba was admittedly a little grumpy after lining up for it, but… there was a coffee shop relatively close by that he knew did good cake. And that thought helped. It was a bit strange, especially since it’d only been a few days since he’d gone there last time and Hirakoba frowned a bit as he stepped into the cafe, bee lining over to the counter.
Hirakoba ordered his tea easily and wandered over to the cake cabinet while he waited, looking at the display of slices on offer. As always, his eyes went straight for the strawberry shortcake, but he made himself look at the others first.
Zaizen didn’t have the money for a crepe, but he was more than satisfied to watch Hirakoba be turned away from the illustrious cart. Only some fifteen minutes ago, Zaizen had approached the vendor with a picture and explained, quite falsely, that his good friend was both very lactose intolerant and a law student; the crepe crew had taken it beautifully from there.
For good measure, Zaizen clicked a picture. After that, he should have gone back to practice, but instead, his feet made their way toward the cafe. Just to look -- he told himself -- and see if there was anything worthy of instagram for the next time his brother sent him some fun money for a tech favor.
He lined up behind the blond silently. Somehow, Hirakoba was managing to stand right in front of the last piece of red bean matcha, which all but begged to be photographed.
Hirakoba spotted Zaizen’s reflection in the cake display and he frowned a little before it clicked - right, the person that called him Satan. He inspected the cakes one last time before he straightened up to order. “One slice of the strawberry shortcake, please,” he said, before he paused, glancing at Zaizen’s reflection. “Ah… and the red bean matcha cake.”
He’d mentioned he’d liked that one the best, right?
Maybe it was a little petty of him but Hirakoba made sure he smiled at Zaizen as he stepped to the side after paying, watching the girl take the cakes out to put them on a tray for him.
Rude. That was rude.
The shop clerk brought out the cake and had it plated before Zaizen could get a nice photo of it in the display. Zaizen’s blank, deadpan stare met Hirakoba’s smile.
Thanks, Satan.
“Oh, did you want this one?” Hirakoba asked, faking surprise as he met Zaizen’s stare. “I’m so sorry, I just really wanted it.”
He picked up the tray and headed carefully over to a table, sliding onto the seat. Hirakoba made sure to keep an eye on Zaizen as he went, to see what the other male did. Especially since he purposely pushed the red bean matcha cake to one side so he could focus on his strawberry shortcake.
“Enjoy,” Zaizen said flatly.
He supposed that was what he got, for sabotaging Hirakoba’s crepe.
As Zaizen was next in line, the woman behind the counter asked what he wanted. He requested the cheapest coffee he could spot on the menu and then continued to look blandly at Hirakoba while their orders were arranged.
Hirakoba got up again when his order was called - Zaizen staring at him was putting him off eating, really. But it made him think he was right - the match red bean cake had been what he’d wanted, since there were still plenty of shortcake slices left. He paused as he took his coffee cup, looking at the other male.
“You know, asking to share does wonders,” he said, taking a stirrer and a packet of sugar. “And if you do it without adding ‘Satan’ on the end, it helps even more.”
While adding a borderline offensive amount of cream to his coffee, Zaizen said, “Have we really reached the level that I can address you without your proper title?”
Obviously the red bean matcha cake was the superior flavor; there were no slices left. He waited for Hirakoba to move before seizing on five sugar packets, “I don’t want to share. I want to take a picture.”
Hirakoba laughed a bit. “If you want to include all the many and varied titles of the lord of Hell, you’re more than welcome. I thought it might just make conversation easier.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly at the sheer amount of sugar being taken. “Well, I’m probably not going to eat it anyway,” he said, turning to head back to his seat. “So if you don’t want to share, then it’s going in the bin.”
Zaizen stared at Hirakoba, unable to comprehend the horrible waste. “To throw away nice cake, you really do belong in hell.”
After putting two sugars in his coffee and tucking the rest away, Zaizen put his coffee on a separate little table just slightly away from Hirakoba’s. “Why would you buy it, then?”
Hirakoba started cutting into the strawberry shortcake, chewing the chunk of strawberry as he thought about how to reply. “To see what you’d do,” he said finally with a smile, pushing the red bean matcha cake a little bit closer to Zaizen. “Consider it a bribe.”
At his table just a few feet away, Zaizen oriented just slightly closer to the cake. He eyed it, and then Hirakoba. “...A bribe for what?”
It wasn’t like he had anything the blond particularly wanted.
Ah, he did love the blatant suspicion. Especially as he turned to his tea and savoured it for a long moment before replying. “A bribe to keep me amused,” Hirakoba said. “I don’t often get spontaneously insulted by strangers on the internet, it was very novel.”
Well that was very...condescending. In a way that Zaizen might have appreciated if it weren’t directed at him.
“I still don’t like you,” Zaizen said, conceding so far as to lift up his phone and zoom in on the green tea cake. “But if you want to be insulted on a broader and more creative basis, I can make that happen.”
He supposed the cake was photograph worthy, with its little swirls on top and the waffle sticking out the top. Hirakoba carefully passed it over the gap to place it on Zaizen’s table. “You’re so cute, darling,” he said, smiling at Zaizen.
The cake was closer now. He set his camera at the perfect angle and, was about to take the photo, when Hirakoba went and spat poison. Sharp eyes coming up slowly from his phone, Zaizen stare bore endlessly into Hirakoba and he said, “You’re a dick, Satan.”
Hirakoba just huffed a bit in laughter at the insult, taking a pointed sip of his drink before he went back to his cake. “At least wait until you’ve eaten it before you insult me,” he said mildly. Hirakoba was about to take a forkful of cake into his mouth before he paused. “Do you actually have a name, or are you just ‘alphabet-kun’?”
Zaizen raised a sparse brow; he had promised Hirakoba to return in kind of he said the word darling in reference to him. Fair warning had been issued.
Putting down his phone, Zaizen considered the cake and weighed his pride and desires. Temptation bid his fingertips to touch the fork, recall the feel of it on his hand and consider how it might bring sweet cake to his face. “Alphabet-kun is fine,” he said, quite distracted.
Oh this was just too easy. Hirakoba propped his chin on his hand, watching Zaizen closely. “Crepe-kun, maybe?” he suggested, mulling over other possibilities. “Perhaps Cake-kun works better.”
He poked the spikes of the fork, popping it up to add some interest for another picture.
Maybe if he just ate the waffle on top with some red bean...
“Not if you ever want to enjoy that crepe truck again,” he said, flat, unimpressed gaze cast sidelong at Hirakoba.
Hirakoba paused and narrowed his eyes at Zaizen. “Are you the reason that I couldn’t get a crepe, then?” He had thought it was rather strange. He leaned across the gap to cut off a bit of the cake, pointedly stabbing it and eating it. And then pulled a face as he sat back - not a good flavour.
“If you don’t want to be called Crepe-kun, I need your name, then. Or I can call you darling forever, if you want.”
Ignoring the question, Zaizen stared at Hirakoba as he consumed a piece of the magnificent cake. When the blond looked seriously displeased, he wondered if the cake was bad, or if Hirakoba simply had no taste.
Definitely the latter, if his nicknames were any indication.
“Call me by your name,” he said at a deadpan, focusing the camera on Hirakoba now that the delicious looking cake had a bite taken out of it.
The strawberry cake was so much more palatable and Hirakoba hummed around his fork as he took another bite.
“By my name? Rin?” Hirakoba raised an eyebrow at the camera being pointed at him and shook his head. “You’re more like my sister, she’s small and cute too. Maybe I should name you after her.”
Zaizen shrugged; if Hirakoba were to call him Rin, Zaizen could call the actual Rin Satan, and they would both know exactly what was going on.
“No, two Hirakoba might be confusing. Just call me Kirihara.”
It seemed safer to give Satan the name of a reformed demon.
Hirakoba frowned at the name - that sounded… vaguely familiar. “Isn’t he a tennis player?” Hirakoba asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. A tennis player that he’d seen vaguely around the dreamwidth circle as well.
“That hardly seems fair to him. I think I’ll just stay with Crepe-kun, it’s nice and easy.”
Zaizen glared flatly. “Nice and easy. The thing you’ll never eat again from that truck.”
Such was his determination to not be Crepe-kun.
“Well, unless I bring you with me each time I want to go eat a crepe, and buy you one too,” Hirakoba said, meeting Zaizen’s glare with a smiling stare of his own. “Or we could share, I’m not opposed to sharing germs with you.”
“...Are you usually not opposed to sharing germs with people you don’t know, or am I just special?” Zaizen asked, not entirely sure which option was worse.
Deciding to be a little bit daring, he put the smallest piece of cake on his fork and took it for a ride along the edge of the plate. “And what’s in this for you? I’ve read Hansel and Gretel. I know about the oven at the end of the candy.”
“I think I know you well enough now,” Hirakoba said, prodding at his cake. “I don’t share germs with complete strangers.” He had to at least know their name… which, he reminded himself he still didn’t know.
Hirakoba watched the slow adventure of the tiniest piece of cake he’d ever seen and then glanced up at Zaizen at the question. “I guess it’s nice not having to be polite to people all the time,” he said, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Or I could just be fattening you up. It might make you nicer to cuddle later.”
The fork started to actually journey to Zaizen’s mouth, but he stopped halfway through to arch a brow at Hirakoba. “What do you actually know about me?” he asked.
Mention of cuddling gave Zaizen even more reason to pause. Was Hirakoba hitting on him? Unlikely. But the Okinawan had bought him cake.
“...Cuddle,” he repeated, eyes narrowed and fork still paused in the air.
“Ah, don’t think too much about it,” Hirakoba said, waving his hand dismissively at Zaizen. “Just focus on eating the cake.”
Which probably didn’t help, now that he’d said it.
It did make him think about Zaizen’s earlier question though - what exactly did he know about the other male? “You’re small and cute,” he said eventually, smiling a bit. “And you’ve got a sharp tongue. And you like matcha and red bean for some reason.”
Hirakoba’s words, as predicted, caused Zaizen to put down the fork completely and glare at the blond for ruining what could have been something beautiful and delicious.
“What am I, a 1950s western housewife?” Zaizen drawled. Don’t think, just focus on cake and being small and cute. “You’re barely taller than me.” A few centimeters at best
The sharp tongue was sort of a compliment, but was immediately negated by the questioning of matcha-bean perfection.
“And if someone taller than me wants to call me small and cute, that’s fine,” Hirakoba said, shrugging a bit. Depending on who it was from, Hirakoba might even take it as a compliment.
He turned back to his coffee, glancing back at Zaizen. “You really should just hurry up and eat that, Crepe-kun,” Hirakoba said, gesturing at the cake again.
Zaizen stared with his dead fish eyes. “Good for you.” He continued staring until Hirakoba’s hands directed his gaze toward the decadent little bite on his fork.
Looking from the cake to Hirakoba, and then back again, he said, “Will this expel me from paradise?”
If this was currently considered paradise, how could this be worse? “Will all of the music in the world be replaced by AKB48 if I eat this?”
Eve had it easy, only having to resist a fucking apple.
“Expel you from paradise?” Hirakoba asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. And really, Zaizen’s idea of what hell could befall him was a bit ridiculous. “I mean, I’m the devil, aren’t I? I could make your world of sin as terrible or as wonderful as i want.”
Hirakoba leaned slightly forward, reaching across to prod at the cake with his own fork. “It’s your choice though, really.”
When Hirakoba encroached on the cake, Zaizen’s body language shifted. Such a delicacy should not be consumed by one who didn’t know how to appreciate it.
His fork cleanly sliced through the piece that Hirakoba was prodding and escorted it to Zaizen’s mouth. Dear sweet god that was good. And unfair.
“...Do you worst, Satan.”
Hirakoba laughed as Zaizen capitulated and he sat back, crossing his legs to go back to his coffee. “No I think I’ll wait a little bit before dragging you fully down to hell with me,” he said, taking a sip and smiling a bit. “Enjoy your cake, darling.”
What: Crepe sabotage and cafe
When: A few weeks back
Rating: G
Clearly something was up. The crepe cart had refused to sell him a crepe and Hirakoba was admittedly a little grumpy after lining up for it, but… there was a coffee shop relatively close by that he knew did good cake. And that thought helped. It was a bit strange, especially since it’d only been a few days since he’d gone there last time and Hirakoba frowned a bit as he stepped into the cafe, bee lining over to the counter.
Hirakoba ordered his tea easily and wandered over to the cake cabinet while he waited, looking at the display of slices on offer. As always, his eyes went straight for the strawberry shortcake, but he made himself look at the others first.
Zaizen didn’t have the money for a crepe, but he was more than satisfied to watch Hirakoba be turned away from the illustrious cart. Only some fifteen minutes ago, Zaizen had approached the vendor with a picture and explained, quite falsely, that his good friend was both very lactose intolerant and a law student; the crepe crew had taken it beautifully from there.
For good measure, Zaizen clicked a picture. After that, he should have gone back to practice, but instead, his feet made their way toward the cafe. Just to look -- he told himself -- and see if there was anything worthy of instagram for the next time his brother sent him some fun money for a tech favor.
He lined up behind the blond silently. Somehow, Hirakoba was managing to stand right in front of the last piece of red bean matcha, which all but begged to be photographed.
Hirakoba spotted Zaizen’s reflection in the cake display and he frowned a little before it clicked - right, the person that called him Satan. He inspected the cakes one last time before he straightened up to order. “One slice of the strawberry shortcake, please,” he said, before he paused, glancing at Zaizen’s reflection. “Ah… and the red bean matcha cake.”
He’d mentioned he’d liked that one the best, right?
Maybe it was a little petty of him but Hirakoba made sure he smiled at Zaizen as he stepped to the side after paying, watching the girl take the cakes out to put them on a tray for him.
Rude. That was rude.
The shop clerk brought out the cake and had it plated before Zaizen could get a nice photo of it in the display. Zaizen’s blank, deadpan stare met Hirakoba’s smile.
Thanks, Satan.
“Oh, did you want this one?” Hirakoba asked, faking surprise as he met Zaizen’s stare. “I’m so sorry, I just really wanted it.”
He picked up the tray and headed carefully over to a table, sliding onto the seat. Hirakoba made sure to keep an eye on Zaizen as he went, to see what the other male did. Especially since he purposely pushed the red bean matcha cake to one side so he could focus on his strawberry shortcake.
“Enjoy,” Zaizen said flatly.
He supposed that was what he got, for sabotaging Hirakoba’s crepe.
As Zaizen was next in line, the woman behind the counter asked what he wanted. He requested the cheapest coffee he could spot on the menu and then continued to look blandly at Hirakoba while their orders were arranged.
Hirakoba got up again when his order was called - Zaizen staring at him was putting him off eating, really. But it made him think he was right - the match red bean cake had been what he’d wanted, since there were still plenty of shortcake slices left. He paused as he took his coffee cup, looking at the other male.
“You know, asking to share does wonders,” he said, taking a stirrer and a packet of sugar. “And if you do it without adding ‘Satan’ on the end, it helps even more.”
While adding a borderline offensive amount of cream to his coffee, Zaizen said, “Have we really reached the level that I can address you without your proper title?”
Obviously the red bean matcha cake was the superior flavor; there were no slices left. He waited for Hirakoba to move before seizing on five sugar packets, “I don’t want to share. I want to take a picture.”
Hirakoba laughed a bit. “If you want to include all the many and varied titles of the lord of Hell, you’re more than welcome. I thought it might just make conversation easier.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly at the sheer amount of sugar being taken. “Well, I’m probably not going to eat it anyway,” he said, turning to head back to his seat. “So if you don’t want to share, then it’s going in the bin.”
Zaizen stared at Hirakoba, unable to comprehend the horrible waste. “To throw away nice cake, you really do belong in hell.”
After putting two sugars in his coffee and tucking the rest away, Zaizen put his coffee on a separate little table just slightly away from Hirakoba’s. “Why would you buy it, then?”
Hirakoba started cutting into the strawberry shortcake, chewing the chunk of strawberry as he thought about how to reply. “To see what you’d do,” he said finally with a smile, pushing the red bean matcha cake a little bit closer to Zaizen. “Consider it a bribe.”
At his table just a few feet away, Zaizen oriented just slightly closer to the cake. He eyed it, and then Hirakoba. “...A bribe for what?”
It wasn’t like he had anything the blond particularly wanted.
Ah, he did love the blatant suspicion. Especially as he turned to his tea and savoured it for a long moment before replying. “A bribe to keep me amused,” Hirakoba said. “I don’t often get spontaneously insulted by strangers on the internet, it was very novel.”
Well that was very...condescending. In a way that Zaizen might have appreciated if it weren’t directed at him.
“I still don’t like you,” Zaizen said, conceding so far as to lift up his phone and zoom in on the green tea cake. “But if you want to be insulted on a broader and more creative basis, I can make that happen.”
He supposed the cake was photograph worthy, with its little swirls on top and the waffle sticking out the top. Hirakoba carefully passed it over the gap to place it on Zaizen’s table. “You’re so cute, darling,” he said, smiling at Zaizen.
The cake was closer now. He set his camera at the perfect angle and, was about to take the photo, when Hirakoba went and spat poison. Sharp eyes coming up slowly from his phone, Zaizen stare bore endlessly into Hirakoba and he said, “You’re a dick, Satan.”
Hirakoba just huffed a bit in laughter at the insult, taking a pointed sip of his drink before he went back to his cake. “At least wait until you’ve eaten it before you insult me,” he said mildly. Hirakoba was about to take a forkful of cake into his mouth before he paused. “Do you actually have a name, or are you just ‘alphabet-kun’?”
Zaizen raised a sparse brow; he had promised Hirakoba to return in kind of he said the word darling in reference to him. Fair warning had been issued.
Putting down his phone, Zaizen considered the cake and weighed his pride and desires. Temptation bid his fingertips to touch the fork, recall the feel of it on his hand and consider how it might bring sweet cake to his face. “Alphabet-kun is fine,” he said, quite distracted.
Oh this was just too easy. Hirakoba propped his chin on his hand, watching Zaizen closely. “Crepe-kun, maybe?” he suggested, mulling over other possibilities. “Perhaps Cake-kun works better.”
He poked the spikes of the fork, popping it up to add some interest for another picture.
Maybe if he just ate the waffle on top with some red bean...
“Not if you ever want to enjoy that crepe truck again,” he said, flat, unimpressed gaze cast sidelong at Hirakoba.
Hirakoba paused and narrowed his eyes at Zaizen. “Are you the reason that I couldn’t get a crepe, then?” He had thought it was rather strange. He leaned across the gap to cut off a bit of the cake, pointedly stabbing it and eating it. And then pulled a face as he sat back - not a good flavour.
“If you don’t want to be called Crepe-kun, I need your name, then. Or I can call you darling forever, if you want.”
Ignoring the question, Zaizen stared at Hirakoba as he consumed a piece of the magnificent cake. When the blond looked seriously displeased, he wondered if the cake was bad, or if Hirakoba simply had no taste.
Definitely the latter, if his nicknames were any indication.
“Call me by your name,” he said at a deadpan, focusing the camera on Hirakoba now that the delicious looking cake had a bite taken out of it.
The strawberry cake was so much more palatable and Hirakoba hummed around his fork as he took another bite.
“By my name? Rin?” Hirakoba raised an eyebrow at the camera being pointed at him and shook his head. “You’re more like my sister, she’s small and cute too. Maybe I should name you after her.”
Zaizen shrugged; if Hirakoba were to call him Rin, Zaizen could call the actual Rin Satan, and they would both know exactly what was going on.
“No, two Hirakoba might be confusing. Just call me Kirihara.”
It seemed safer to give Satan the name of a reformed demon.
Hirakoba frowned at the name - that sounded… vaguely familiar. “Isn’t he a tennis player?” Hirakoba asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. A tennis player that he’d seen vaguely around the dreamwidth circle as well.
“That hardly seems fair to him. I think I’ll just stay with Crepe-kun, it’s nice and easy.”
Zaizen glared flatly. “Nice and easy. The thing you’ll never eat again from that truck.”
Such was his determination to not be Crepe-kun.
“Well, unless I bring you with me each time I want to go eat a crepe, and buy you one too,” Hirakoba said, meeting Zaizen’s glare with a smiling stare of his own. “Or we could share, I’m not opposed to sharing germs with you.”
“...Are you usually not opposed to sharing germs with people you don’t know, or am I just special?” Zaizen asked, not entirely sure which option was worse.
Deciding to be a little bit daring, he put the smallest piece of cake on his fork and took it for a ride along the edge of the plate. “And what’s in this for you? I’ve read Hansel and Gretel. I know about the oven at the end of the candy.”
“I think I know you well enough now,” Hirakoba said, prodding at his cake. “I don’t share germs with complete strangers.” He had to at least know their name… which, he reminded himself he still didn’t know.
Hirakoba watched the slow adventure of the tiniest piece of cake he’d ever seen and then glanced up at Zaizen at the question. “I guess it’s nice not having to be polite to people all the time,” he said, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Or I could just be fattening you up. It might make you nicer to cuddle later.”
The fork started to actually journey to Zaizen’s mouth, but he stopped halfway through to arch a brow at Hirakoba. “What do you actually know about me?” he asked.
Mention of cuddling gave Zaizen even more reason to pause. Was Hirakoba hitting on him? Unlikely. But the Okinawan had bought him cake.
“...Cuddle,” he repeated, eyes narrowed and fork still paused in the air.
“Ah, don’t think too much about it,” Hirakoba said, waving his hand dismissively at Zaizen. “Just focus on eating the cake.”
Which probably didn’t help, now that he’d said it.
It did make him think about Zaizen’s earlier question though - what exactly did he know about the other male? “You’re small and cute,” he said eventually, smiling a bit. “And you’ve got a sharp tongue. And you like matcha and red bean for some reason.”
Hirakoba’s words, as predicted, caused Zaizen to put down the fork completely and glare at the blond for ruining what could have been something beautiful and delicious.
“What am I, a 1950s western housewife?” Zaizen drawled. Don’t think, just focus on cake and being small and cute. “You’re barely taller than me.” A few centimeters at best
The sharp tongue was sort of a compliment, but was immediately negated by the questioning of matcha-bean perfection.
“And if someone taller than me wants to call me small and cute, that’s fine,” Hirakoba said, shrugging a bit. Depending on who it was from, Hirakoba might even take it as a compliment.
He turned back to his coffee, glancing back at Zaizen. “You really should just hurry up and eat that, Crepe-kun,” Hirakoba said, gesturing at the cake again.
Zaizen stared with his dead fish eyes. “Good for you.” He continued staring until Hirakoba’s hands directed his gaze toward the decadent little bite on his fork.
Looking from the cake to Hirakoba, and then back again, he said, “Will this expel me from paradise?”
If this was currently considered paradise, how could this be worse? “Will all of the music in the world be replaced by AKB48 if I eat this?”
Eve had it easy, only having to resist a fucking apple.
“Expel you from paradise?” Hirakoba asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. And really, Zaizen’s idea of what hell could befall him was a bit ridiculous. “I mean, I’m the devil, aren’t I? I could make your world of sin as terrible or as wonderful as i want.”
Hirakoba leaned slightly forward, reaching across to prod at the cake with his own fork. “It’s your choice though, really.”
When Hirakoba encroached on the cake, Zaizen’s body language shifted. Such a delicacy should not be consumed by one who didn’t know how to appreciate it.
His fork cleanly sliced through the piece that Hirakoba was prodding and escorted it to Zaizen’s mouth. Dear sweet god that was good. And unfair.
“...Do you worst, Satan.”
Hirakoba laughed as Zaizen capitulated and he sat back, crossing his legs to go back to his coffee. “No I think I’ll wait a little bit before dragging you fully down to hell with me,” he said, taking a sip and smiling a bit. “Enjoy your cake, darling.”
