AftS!, Pants Are For the Weak

Title: Pants Are For The Weak [Kazuhiro/Kobayashi]
Fandom: Aim for the Sky!
Rating/Warnings: R for arboreal handjobs.
Summary: Kazuhiro and Kobagin go on a fact-finding mission to Kakinoki.
AN: Mousapelli’s Birthday Theme 14: Pants Are For the Weak.

Pants Are For The Weak

“You want us to what?” Kobayashi made a face and looked back down at the crisp pages of 1001 Shougi Roads to Victory, whose black and white diagrams made a hell of a lot more sense than these freaks. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” Sato begged, failing utterly to imitate Asakawa’s winning pout. “Tsukada wants me to come up with drills, and I’m terrible at it, and you’d only have to go long enough to figure out what Kakinoki does! And besides, I’ve already asked Kazuhiro to go along with you.”

“You WHA–”

“Kobagin!” Kazuhiro slammed open the classroom door and bounced in, carrying an armload of black clothing and, ancestors be praised, actually wearing a pair of black pants himself. “The girls in the Drama club said we could borrow this spy stuff!”

“Who do you know in the drama club?” Sato asked, looking like he really didn’t want to know.

“I did a whole 6 weeks of drama club!” Kazuhiro grinned. “But those stretchy pants they practice in were itchy and stifled my dramatiku.”

“All settled then!” Sato said cheerfully, making his exit as Kazuhiro plucked a squawking Kobayashi’s glasses off and dropped a pair of oversized shades in their place.


“Come on already!”

“No!” Kobayashi snapped back, craning his neck to try and catch sight of Kazuhiro among the leaves of the huge oak tree. Of course that idiot had shimmied up the tree with the notebook immediately, like the grabby-handed monkey he was, leaving Kobayashi alone on the ground, glancing around nervously for approaching Kakinoki club members.

“It’s just a tree!” Kazuhiro coaxed. Some leaves rustled and an acorn thwacked Kobayashi in the head.

“Trees stifle my dramatiku,” Kobayashi grumbled, tugging his baseball cap down firmly and planting a foot against the bark of the tree to begin scrabbling up. He managed to get his arms wrapped around a branch about eight or so feet off the ground, and was trying to figure out how to swing himself up without cracking his skull open, when suddenly long fingers were curling around his wrists.

“Kobagin,” Kazuhiro grinned, tugging him up and steadying him with palms against his arms and shoulders, “you don’t have any dramatiku.”

Kobayashi tried to protest, but Kazuhiro shushed him as he coaxed him up high and then out onto a branch from which they could watch the lacrosse practice. The branch forked in a way that Kobayashi was not exactly comfortable with, but the two branches ran close to each other, and it was convenient for him to brace his elbows on both sides and aim the binoculars through the gap. At least most of his legs were on the branch before it started forking.

Then the branch started shaking.

“This can’t hold both of us!” Kobayashi squeaked, then squeaked louder as the branch wobbled more and a warm weight draped over his back. He dug his fingers into the dirty bark of the tree while Kazuhiro shuffled around a little, then heaved a sigh of relief when the movement stopped and they were mercifully still arboreal.

“This is pretty comfortable,” Kazuhiro breathed against Kobayashi’s ear, making him twitch. “And the view is great! You should relax, Kobagin.”

“It isn’t safe!” Kobayashi protested, shifting under Kazuhiro’s weight and grimacing as his T-shirt rode up a little and tree bark dug into his side. “And don’t call me—aah!”

“Shh,” Kazuhiro pressed a sucking kiss to the ticklish skin just below Kobayashi’s earlobe, and his long fingers were skimming across his stomach, making his shirt ride up even higher, “or they’ll hear you.”

“You’re molesting me!” Kobayashi snapped, stiffening as Kazuhiro grazed his nipple. “In a tree! What am I supposed to do, just lie back and take it?!”

“Actually, it kind of feels better when you struggle.” Kazuhiro laughed softly, making the hair on the back of Kobayashi’s neck stand up, and he realized suddenly that there was some indigenous hardwood digging into the back of his thigh as well as into the front.


“Ahh,” Kazuhiro slid one hand from torturing Kobayashi’s nipple to cover his mouth, “now they’re looking over here. You’ll have to be a quieter or they’ll find us, and you’ll get all embarrassed. Not that I mind; you’re awfully cute when your face gets all red, so it’s your choice, Kobagin.”

Kobayashi tried to bite him, but all he really managed was to lick Kazuhiro’s fingers and palm, and that was a complete mistake, because his other hand had been busy freeing Kobayashi from his zipper and underwear. At the first glide of Kazuhiro’s stick calluses over Kobayashi’s head, the only that kept Kobayashi from letting loose a moan that they would hear in Kansai was the sight of the Kakinoki regular heading right for their tree.

He whimper-snorted instead, glasses slipping down to the very tip of his nose, and Kazuhiro squeezed him tighter and laughed again, lips wet and warm against the back of Kobayashi’s neck and his own erection rocking against the back of Kobayashi’s thigh.

“Stop it!” Kobayashi whispered, swallowing against the dryness of his throat and trying not to thrust because the branch was making creaking noises. “Kazuhiro, stop, let me go!”

“Nuh-uh,” Kazuhiro murmured, letting his tongue flick lightly over the ridge of Kobayashi’s ear, then he bit down on his earlobe and Kobayashi jerked against him, banging the side of his head on the branch and coming over Kazuhiro’s hand.

A sigh ghosting over the back of his neck brought Kobayashi back to his senses, and he lifted his head enough to see Kazuhiro wiping his fingers off on some convenient leaves. Kobayashi scowled and reached down to try and tuck himself in without letting go of the tree with both hands at the same time.

He had just concluded that it was impossible, or at least more probable that any damage he would do himself with his own pants was less desirable than a broken arm, when he realized that nothing was digging into his leg anymore.

“Kazuhiro?” Kobayashi frowned, and shifted a bit against Kazuhiro to be sure. “Did you…”

“Mmhmm,” Kazuhiro drawled in his ear, reaching down to tuck Kobayashi back in and giving him a satisfied little pat when he was safely re-zipped. “And that’s why pants are for losers.”

“Oh my god.” Kobayashi wrinkled his nose and tried to figure out whether he was more frightened of heights or Kazuhiro’s hygiene. He hadn’t worked it out exactly when Kazuhiro was pressing the notebook into his hands—okay, how had he been holding that?—and flopping bonelessly against his back again.

“Just take some notes for Sato, ‘kay?” Kazuhiro’s yawn stirred Kobayashi’s hair and dislodged his baseball cap. “I’m gonna take a little nap.”

Kobayashi heaved a sigh as he watched his cap flutter to the ground like the last shreds of his shame, then grabbed the binoculars from where they were dangling around his neck and flipped open the notebook.

“Kazuhiro!” he hissed after a minute. “Kazuhiro, do you have a pencil? Oi, Kazuhiro!”

Kazuhiro’s snore was almost drowned out by the grinding of Kobayashi’s teeth.


“Anything over there?” the Kakinoki captain looked up from his clipboard at the regular jogging back towards him.

“No.” The regular scowled and brushed a little at a white splotch on his shoulder. “Fucking birds.”


“Here.” Kobayashi thrust the notebook into Sato’s hands, scowling. Sato sighed in relief and opened the book to flip through the neatly labeled pages.

“They did this?” he asked after a few seconds. “Really?”

“I wrote it down, didn’t I?” Kobayashi grumbled, bending down to fiddle with his shoelaces. Since Tsukada didn’t know a shougi board from a cafeteria tray, those drills would probably work just fine.

There was no way he was going back to Kakinoki no matter what Sato said anyway; he still had bark under his fingernails. And the sticky patch on the back of his jeans had better have been sap.

“You’re a lifesaver!” Sato said after another moment, and Kobayashi rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything else, the locker room door slammed open and Kazuhiro and Asakawa came in, laughing about something.

Kazuhiro grinned widely at Kobayashi, and a deep sense of suspicion settled over him.

“Are those the new drills?” Asakawa asked, wide-eyed, and when Sato nodded with a ridiculous grin and handed over the notebook, Asakawa’s high-pitched exclamation of excitement even made Kobayashi blush. Sato lowered his clipboard just a little and cleared his throat.

“Want to go to Ginka next?” Kazuhiro asked, and Kobayashi jumped when he realized Kazuhiro had flopped himself down to straddle the bench not six inches away from him. “I hear they’ve got really big trees.”

“Absolutely not, you freak!” Kobayashi snapped, looking to Sato for help, but he was already pushing Asakawa out the door, palms flat and drifting against Asakawa’s back, and before he could move, Kazuhiro had turned Kobayashi on the bench so that he could hook knees over Kobayashi’s thighs.

“Let’s just stay in tonight then, Kobagin.” And then Kazuhiro’s lips cut off Kobayashi’s protest, and his hand was coming up to thread through Kobayashi’s hair, knocking his cap to the floor.

“Geez, you two,” Kichida came around the corner of the lockers and snatched his bag, laying unnoticed against the leg of the bench, up onto his shoulder, “people have to use that bench, you know! Have a little class, we aren’t living in the trees.”

He was already hurrying through the door before Kobayashi managed to splutter a response, and Kazuhiro just laughed and pinched one of his furiously red cheeks.

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