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chineseinkTitle: Neverland
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: FujiRyo
Rating: PG
Warnings: Crack humor. Might make slightly more sense if you've read Demon Diary.
Discalimer: Not mine.
Ryoma takes a not-so-usual voyage into the world of dreams, crossovers, and impossibilities.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
th_nightengale because I love her dearly. Because a crayon was named "roma tomato" and we love Demon Diary. Because it's Em and my one year anniversary. Because I can and I want to. (Because I'm strange...)
Neverland
bymeitachi
In the one hundred sixty seven days Echizen Ryoma had been dating Fuji Syuusuke (give or take a week, since it was debatable as to whether or not calculated molestation counted as “dating” for those first seven days), he had had many dreams.
Most of them didn’t even involve his senpai, being abstract and strange as dreams often were, pulling in his family, his teachers, or often people he had only met once. Occasionally some of the Seigaku regulars made appearances in his dreams, but never doing anything very out of the ordinary, at least in relativity to the rest of the dream. Once in a while, however, usually after he’d been strung along by Fuji all week, or after a particularly stressful combat of wills with Fuji, or a frustratingly interrupted encounter with Fuji, Ryoma would dream about his boyfriend.
Yes, those kinds of dreams. The kinds that left him sweating and panting after he woke up, alternately cursing his boyfriend and wishing he were there to help soothe…things.
But that was beside the point. The point, yes, there really was one, was that tonight, in the early hours of the one hundred and sixty-eighth day of Ryoma’s relationship with Fuji, he was dreaming of something he’d never dreamed about before. He was dreaming about, of all things, a tomato.
This was unusual.
“Hi,” said Ryoma in his dream, as if this kind of thing happened all the time.
*niko* said the tomato, beaming brightly at him.
The tomato had a face, Ryoma thought, distantly horrified because this kind of thing was definitely not usual.
“COOL!” exclaimed dream!Ryoma, however, jumping up and down. “A giant tomato!”
That was Ryoma’s first hint that perhaps he wasn’t himself in this dream. His second was the blonde hair flopping into his eyes. Last that he recalled, he hadn’t dyed his hair, and unless Fuji had done something as suicidal as putting hair dye in Ryoma’s shampoo, then his hair was definitely not blonde. Clearly, he was not himself. And jumping up and down wasn’t his style, after all, unless it was accompanied by a tennis racket and the proper suspenseful music and resulted in his wiping his opponent across the court.
The tomato continued smiling happily at him.
Ryoma was suddenly and eerily reminded of Fuji.
He thought very firmly to himself that he would like to get out of this dream now, please, thank you.
It was strange though, that he was so aware that this was a dream. What did they call this—lucid dreaming, was it? To be aware and conscious of being in a dreamlike state? Or something. Ryoma didn’t particularly care about the definition at the moment. He’d prefer to just say “goodbye” to the smiling tomato and wake up, thanks, or even move on to a different dream sequence. The one he’d had last night with Fuji cornering him in the showers (based off of a couple all-too-traumatizing real life experiences) had been cut short by his alarm clock… He wouldn’t mind returning to that.
Unfortunately, he continued springing happily around the brightly smiling tomato, unable to control himself.
Just as he started to get seriously annoyed and began contemplating harming his dream self just to make it stop the incessant giggling and hopping about (so not him, honestly), another person appeared. Ryoma arched a brow—-or he would’ve, if he’d been in control of the body he was currently in possession of, which clearly he was not, otherwise the hopping about would’ve ended quite a while ago (though that presented a debatable issue on how Ryoma would’ve managed harming his dream self if all he was at the moment was a pair of eyes and a consciousness, but shh, Ryoma’s magical).
Suffice to say, had Ryoma been in possession of his own body and control of it too, he would’ve given the new arrival a curious—-in his most blasé manner, of course—-look.
Eclipse, whom of course you all know as the tall, dark, handsome, mysterious, evil, very pretty and highly-ranked demon, gave him a cold crimson-eyed stare.
“Master Raenef,” he said, voice cool but tight, “what precisely are you doing here?”
“Playing with Mr. Tomato!” Ryoma heard himself—in a completely different voice—chirp excitedly.
The tall demon twitched a little and looked pained. “And why is that, exactly?” he asked, voice slightly pinched.
“’Cause giant tomatoes are COOL!”
Ryoma gave himself a horrified look—-or would have if…okay, well, we’ve already been through that. Let’s leave it that he dearly wished he could’ve given himself—-or the not-really-him dream self—-a look of abject horror for that complete lack of dignity. Even if giant tomatoes were cool, and Ryoma was in no way admitting that they were because that was just creepy, one should never essay such an opinion out loud and most definitely not in that sort of bright tone. Affection for anything ought to be displayed in only in small modicums. For example, Ryoma liked grape Ponta an awful lot, but he never went around actively proclaiming it, did he? It would ruin his entire genius-fearsome-freshman-of-the-Seigaku-tennis-club image; it was obvious he liked it since he went around drinking it so much, but his dignity was spared the less-than-impressive announcement. (The only exception Ryoma had to this rule of never openly proclaiming affection involved Fuji, but that was to be expected since his boyfriend was known for making Ryoma’s life as difficult as possible, which involved a lot of placing Ryoma in uncomfortable and sometimes outright embarrassing situations. While on the topic, blackmail was a terrible thing and Ryoma strongly disapproved of it.)
At this point, Ryoma was beginning to wonder if the person he possessed was on drugs of some sort. Because boy wonder’s thoughts usually did not go on these sorts of tangents. The only possible explanation was that the blonde’s inane thought process had somehow leaked into Ryoma’s currently trespassing consciousness—-or maybe all that Inui juice had finally taken its toll. He knew those things couldn’t have been healthy and if he ever woke up from this stupid dream, he’d be sure to tell the mad, clearly homicidal scientist—-
“Master Raenef!” The impatience in Eclipse’s tone suggested that this was not the first time he’d called out the name.
Apparently, Ryoma’s wayward thoughts had managed to sidetrack his host’s as well. The mind barrier was growing weaker; he had hope of controlling the body! …Though what good that would do he wasn’t quite sure yet; first things first, he’d definitely take a racket (there was bound to be one nearby; he was Echizen Ryoma, after all, and where he was, tennis rackets just gravitated naturally to) to that creepy giant tomato. The rest he’d figure out later.
“Master Raenef,” Eclispe said again sharply. He took a few steps closer to Ryoma’s host body, looking almost concerned.
“Aah—-yes, Eclipse?” The bright voice stammered out cheerfully at last.
Eclipse was frowning. “I do not think this giant tomato is having a good effect on you.” He crossed his arms and turned his aesthetic profile toward the giant red thing still bobbing gently in the air beside Ryoma/Raenef, smiling away. “In fact, getting rid of it will be a good demonstration of your lesson from earlier today.” The gleam in his eyes suddenly worried Ryoma, reminding him of the not-quite-bloodlust-but-something-worse he’d seen glinting in Fuji’s eyes when anyone either threatened Yuuta or attempted to separate Ryoma from Fuji. (Boy wonder would never allow Fuji to be overprotective of him. He could defend himself quite well, thank you very much. Possessiveness was a different matter; that, he understood. He owned a cat [or the cat owned him] after all.)
Ryoma’s host body was currently trembling, tears filling its—-his?—-eyes. “E-Eclipse,” he whimpered, “N-no. Mr. Tomato!”
And before Ryoma knew what to expect, Eclipse had trained an eye, yes, just one, on the poor, hapless tomato, and without warning, it exploded into a mess of wet, red, slimy pulp.
“NOOOOO!!” shouted Raenef, horror-struck.
Ryoma flinched but quickly recovered. “Unnecessary showing-off,” he said flatly, unimpressed, or would have, if he’d, you know, had control of the body. “A sign of weakness.” He ignored the fact that his host was currently crying his eyes out.
But even as he griped about the fools who flung around their power carelessly (“I’d like to see him play tennis; no control at all; his serve would be all over the place, wouldn’t it?”) Ryoma realized that something had happened to the link between him and his host—some connection was slowly fading, severed, perhaps, by the side-effects of the magic which was, contrary to his (mis)understanding, very controlled indeed, for demon magic. Unfortunately, demon magic in itself could never be fully controlled, and side effects almost always occurred and well, here was proof…
Ryoma, still in his lucid dreaming state, was aware that the dream was slowly coming to an end. (“Thank God,” he said, except in a very quiet, unheard manner because in the same way that Ryoma never openly proclaimed his likes, he never openly proclaimed his dislikes either [to a lesser extent, though, if only because there was a lot he disliked more than he liked and he couldn’t be expected to keep quiet on them all] and it wouldn’t do for anyone, even if it was his own private dream, to know how glad he was that this whole…thing was over and done with.) It would be a relief to return to reality. He didn’t understand this dream at all, not that he understood any of his dreams, but this one less than most.
Blinking drowsily as his mind slowly surfaced from strange depths to consciousness, Ryoma became aware of the arm draped intimately over his waist, leg tucked between his own. Forcing his eyes open, he met a strange blend of golds and browns and shades of the two.
Not a giant kiwi, please, was his first, panicked thought.
Then, as he came more fully awake, and his vision focused, Ryoma identified the brown was Fuji’s hair, gold the sunlight streaked across the bed, and the in-betweens the shifting perfection of Fuji’s skin. He heaved a silent sigh of relief. After a moment’s consideration, he relaxed into the embrace and burrowed closer.
He wasn’t sure if he could label that recent dream a “nightmare” or not, but he was quite sure that he’d prefer never to think of it again. It had been…disturbing, to put it mildly. Not only the lack of control he’d had in everything (though that was a familiar sensation in a lot of dreams and sometimes even in real life, thanks to a certain Fuji Syuusuke), and not just the giant tomato and the apparently very powerful demon who exercised great power, but the fact that he’d possessed such a cheerful, insane, airhead of a…demon lord? Whatever “Master Raenef” had been… It was an affront to Ryoma’s dignity. So now he was going to sleep it off and pretend it’d never happened.
Maybe this time, he thought grumpily, he’d get the Fuji-in-the-showers dream…
--
[OMAKE THEATER]
Ryoma: *toss* *twitch* Noo!
Fuji: *blinks sleepily* What’s the matter, Ryoma?
Ryoma: MR. TOMATO!
Fuji: oO;; …Ryoma?
Ryoma: *toss* *twitch* Noo!
Fuji: *blinks sleepily* What’s the matter, Ryoma?
Ryoma: *rolls over* No, don’t touch me, buchou! Not there!
Fuji: … … *deadly voice* What?
Ryoma: *toss* *twitch* Noo!
Fuji: *blinks sleepily* What’s the matter, Ryoma?
Ryoma: *sits upright abruptly* THAT WAS MY TWIST SERVE DAMMIT, you can’t send it back like that! I hope you break your stupid shoulder with that stupid shot that your stupid manager obviously likes better than you. And your brother likes me better! *falls back down, asleep*
Fuji: … *calm smile* Saa, so that’s what Ryoma really thinks of Yuuta…
Ryoma: *toss* *twitch* Noo!
Fuji: *blinks sleepily* What’s the matter, Ryoma?
Ryoma: *moan* Oh~oh! Yes, right there, ohhh. Momo-senpai~!
Fuji: … *opens eyes* …
Ryoma: *peeks at him*
Fuji: …he dies tomorrow.
Ryoma: *smirk* Just kidding. *wraps self around Fuji contently*
Fuji: Sadist.
Ryoma: *toss* *twitch* Noo!
Fuji: *blinks sleepily* What’s the matter, Ryoma?
Ryoma: *moan* Oh~oh! Yes, right there, ohhh.
Fuji: ^_^. *touchie*
Ryoma: *wakes up grumpy* What’re you doing? I was dreaming about washing my hair.
--
Posted: 03.14.2005
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: FujiRyo
Rating: PG
Warnings: Crack humor. Might make slightly more sense if you've read Demon Diary.
Discalimer: Not mine.
Ryoma takes a not-so-usual voyage into the world of dreams, crossovers, and impossibilities.
For
th_nightengale because I love her dearly. Because a crayon was named "roma tomato" and we love Demon Diary. Because it's Em and my one year anniversary. Because I can and I want to. (Because I'm strange...)Neverland
by
meitachiIn the one hundred sixty seven days Echizen Ryoma had been dating Fuji Syuusuke (give or take a week, since it was debatable as to whether or not calculated molestation counted as “dating” for those first seven days), he had had many dreams.
Most of them didn’t even involve his senpai, being abstract and strange as dreams often were, pulling in his family, his teachers, or often people he had only met once. Occasionally some of the Seigaku regulars made appearances in his dreams, but never doing anything very out of the ordinary, at least in relativity to the rest of the dream. Once in a while, however, usually after he’d been strung along by Fuji all week, or after a particularly stressful combat of wills with Fuji, or a frustratingly interrupted encounter with Fuji, Ryoma would dream about his boyfriend.
Yes, those kinds of dreams. The kinds that left him sweating and panting after he woke up, alternately cursing his boyfriend and wishing he were there to help soothe…things.
But that was beside the point. The point, yes, there really was one, was that tonight, in the early hours of the one hundred and sixty-eighth day of Ryoma’s relationship with Fuji, he was dreaming of something he’d never dreamed about before. He was dreaming about, of all things, a tomato.
This was unusual.
“Hi,” said Ryoma in his dream, as if this kind of thing happened all the time.
*niko* said the tomato, beaming brightly at him.
The tomato had a face, Ryoma thought, distantly horrified because this kind of thing was definitely not usual.
“COOL!” exclaimed dream!Ryoma, however, jumping up and down. “A giant tomato!”
That was Ryoma’s first hint that perhaps he wasn’t himself in this dream. His second was the blonde hair flopping into his eyes. Last that he recalled, he hadn’t dyed his hair, and unless Fuji had done something as suicidal as putting hair dye in Ryoma’s shampoo, then his hair was definitely not blonde. Clearly, he was not himself. And jumping up and down wasn’t his style, after all, unless it was accompanied by a tennis racket and the proper suspenseful music and resulted in his wiping his opponent across the court.
The tomato continued smiling happily at him.
Ryoma was suddenly and eerily reminded of Fuji.
He thought very firmly to himself that he would like to get out of this dream now, please, thank you.
It was strange though, that he was so aware that this was a dream. What did they call this—lucid dreaming, was it? To be aware and conscious of being in a dreamlike state? Or something. Ryoma didn’t particularly care about the definition at the moment. He’d prefer to just say “goodbye” to the smiling tomato and wake up, thanks, or even move on to a different dream sequence. The one he’d had last night with Fuji cornering him in the showers (based off of a couple all-too-traumatizing real life experiences) had been cut short by his alarm clock… He wouldn’t mind returning to that.
Unfortunately, he continued springing happily around the brightly smiling tomato, unable to control himself.
Just as he started to get seriously annoyed and began contemplating harming his dream self just to make it stop the incessant giggling and hopping about (so not him, honestly), another person appeared. Ryoma arched a brow—-or he would’ve, if he’d been in control of the body he was currently in possession of, which clearly he was not, otherwise the hopping about would’ve ended quite a while ago (though that presented a debatable issue on how Ryoma would’ve managed harming his dream self if all he was at the moment was a pair of eyes and a consciousness, but shh, Ryoma’s magical).
Suffice to say, had Ryoma been in possession of his own body and control of it too, he would’ve given the new arrival a curious—-in his most blasé manner, of course—-look.
Eclipse, whom of course you all know as the tall, dark, handsome, mysterious, evil, very pretty and highly-ranked demon, gave him a cold crimson-eyed stare.
“Master Raenef,” he said, voice cool but tight, “what precisely are you doing here?”
“Playing with Mr. Tomato!” Ryoma heard himself—in a completely different voice—chirp excitedly.
The tall demon twitched a little and looked pained. “And why is that, exactly?” he asked, voice slightly pinched.
“’Cause giant tomatoes are COOL!”
Ryoma gave himself a horrified look—-or would have if…okay, well, we’ve already been through that. Let’s leave it that he dearly wished he could’ve given himself—-or the not-really-him dream self—-a look of abject horror for that complete lack of dignity. Even if giant tomatoes were cool, and Ryoma was in no way admitting that they were because that was just creepy, one should never essay such an opinion out loud and most definitely not in that sort of bright tone. Affection for anything ought to be displayed in only in small modicums. For example, Ryoma liked grape Ponta an awful lot, but he never went around actively proclaiming it, did he? It would ruin his entire genius-fearsome-freshman-of-the-Seigaku-tennis-club image; it was obvious he liked it since he went around drinking it so much, but his dignity was spared the less-than-impressive announcement. (The only exception Ryoma had to this rule of never openly proclaiming affection involved Fuji, but that was to be expected since his boyfriend was known for making Ryoma’s life as difficult as possible, which involved a lot of placing Ryoma in uncomfortable and sometimes outright embarrassing situations. While on the topic, blackmail was a terrible thing and Ryoma strongly disapproved of it.)
At this point, Ryoma was beginning to wonder if the person he possessed was on drugs of some sort. Because boy wonder’s thoughts usually did not go on these sorts of tangents. The only possible explanation was that the blonde’s inane thought process had somehow leaked into Ryoma’s currently trespassing consciousness—-or maybe all that Inui juice had finally taken its toll. He knew those things couldn’t have been healthy and if he ever woke up from this stupid dream, he’d be sure to tell the mad, clearly homicidal scientist—-
“Master Raenef!” The impatience in Eclipse’s tone suggested that this was not the first time he’d called out the name.
Apparently, Ryoma’s wayward thoughts had managed to sidetrack his host’s as well. The mind barrier was growing weaker; he had hope of controlling the body! …Though what good that would do he wasn’t quite sure yet; first things first, he’d definitely take a racket (there was bound to be one nearby; he was Echizen Ryoma, after all, and where he was, tennis rackets just gravitated naturally to) to that creepy giant tomato. The rest he’d figure out later.
“Master Raenef,” Eclispe said again sharply. He took a few steps closer to Ryoma’s host body, looking almost concerned.
“Aah—-yes, Eclipse?” The bright voice stammered out cheerfully at last.
Eclipse was frowning. “I do not think this giant tomato is having a good effect on you.” He crossed his arms and turned his aesthetic profile toward the giant red thing still bobbing gently in the air beside Ryoma/Raenef, smiling away. “In fact, getting rid of it will be a good demonstration of your lesson from earlier today.” The gleam in his eyes suddenly worried Ryoma, reminding him of the not-quite-bloodlust-but-something-worse he’d seen glinting in Fuji’s eyes when anyone either threatened Yuuta or attempted to separate Ryoma from Fuji. (Boy wonder would never allow Fuji to be overprotective of him. He could defend himself quite well, thank you very much. Possessiveness was a different matter; that, he understood. He owned a cat [or the cat owned him] after all.)
Ryoma’s host body was currently trembling, tears filling its—-his?—-eyes. “E-Eclipse,” he whimpered, “N-no. Mr. Tomato!”
And before Ryoma knew what to expect, Eclipse had trained an eye, yes, just one, on the poor, hapless tomato, and without warning, it exploded into a mess of wet, red, slimy pulp.
“NOOOOO!!” shouted Raenef, horror-struck.
Ryoma flinched but quickly recovered. “Unnecessary showing-off,” he said flatly, unimpressed, or would have, if he’d, you know, had control of the body. “A sign of weakness.” He ignored the fact that his host was currently crying his eyes out.
But even as he griped about the fools who flung around their power carelessly (“I’d like to see him play tennis; no control at all; his serve would be all over the place, wouldn’t it?”) Ryoma realized that something had happened to the link between him and his host—some connection was slowly fading, severed, perhaps, by the side-effects of the magic which was, contrary to his (mis)understanding, very controlled indeed, for demon magic. Unfortunately, demon magic in itself could never be fully controlled, and side effects almost always occurred and well, here was proof…
Ryoma, still in his lucid dreaming state, was aware that the dream was slowly coming to an end. (“Thank God,” he said, except in a very quiet, unheard manner because in the same way that Ryoma never openly proclaimed his likes, he never openly proclaimed his dislikes either [to a lesser extent, though, if only because there was a lot he disliked more than he liked and he couldn’t be expected to keep quiet on them all] and it wouldn’t do for anyone, even if it was his own private dream, to know how glad he was that this whole…thing was over and done with.) It would be a relief to return to reality. He didn’t understand this dream at all, not that he understood any of his dreams, but this one less than most.
Blinking drowsily as his mind slowly surfaced from strange depths to consciousness, Ryoma became aware of the arm draped intimately over his waist, leg tucked between his own. Forcing his eyes open, he met a strange blend of golds and browns and shades of the two.
Not a giant kiwi, please, was his first, panicked thought.
Then, as he came more fully awake, and his vision focused, Ryoma identified the brown was Fuji’s hair, gold the sunlight streaked across the bed, and the in-betweens the shifting perfection of Fuji’s skin. He heaved a silent sigh of relief. After a moment’s consideration, he relaxed into the embrace and burrowed closer.
He wasn’t sure if he could label that recent dream a “nightmare” or not, but he was quite sure that he’d prefer never to think of it again. It had been…disturbing, to put it mildly. Not only the lack of control he’d had in everything (though that was a familiar sensation in a lot of dreams and sometimes even in real life, thanks to a certain Fuji Syuusuke), and not just the giant tomato and the apparently very powerful demon who exercised great power, but the fact that he’d possessed such a cheerful, insane, airhead of a…demon lord? Whatever “Master Raenef” had been… It was an affront to Ryoma’s dignity. So now he was going to sleep it off and pretend it’d never happened.
Maybe this time, he thought grumpily, he’d get the Fuji-in-the-showers dream…
--
[OMAKE THEATER]
Ryoma: *toss* *twitch* Noo!
Fuji: *blinks sleepily* What’s the matter, Ryoma?
Ryoma: MR. TOMATO!
Fuji: oO;; …Ryoma?
Ryoma: *toss* *twitch* Noo!
Fuji: *blinks sleepily* What’s the matter, Ryoma?
Ryoma: *rolls over* No, don’t touch me, buchou! Not there!
Fuji: … … *deadly voice* What?
Ryoma: *toss* *twitch* Noo!
Fuji: *blinks sleepily* What’s the matter, Ryoma?
Ryoma: *sits upright abruptly* THAT WAS MY TWIST SERVE DAMMIT, you can’t send it back like that! I hope you break your stupid shoulder with that stupid shot that your stupid manager obviously likes better than you. And your brother likes me better! *falls back down, asleep*
Fuji: … *calm smile* Saa, so that’s what Ryoma really thinks of Yuuta…
Ryoma: *toss* *twitch* Noo!
Fuji: *blinks sleepily* What’s the matter, Ryoma?
Ryoma: *moan* Oh~oh! Yes, right there, ohhh. Momo-senpai~!
Fuji: … *opens eyes* …
Ryoma: *peeks at him*
Fuji: …he dies tomorrow.
Ryoma: *smirk* Just kidding. *wraps self around Fuji contently*
Fuji: Sadist.
Ryoma: *toss* *twitch* Noo!
Fuji: *blinks sleepily* What’s the matter, Ryoma?
Ryoma: *moan* Oh~oh! Yes, right there, ohhh.
Fuji: ^_^. *touchie*
Ryoma: *wakes up grumpy* What’re you doing? I was dreaming about washing my hair.
--
Posted: 03.14.2005
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