Akihabara@DEEP, One Size Fits All

Title: One Size Fits All [Page/Box]
Rating/Warnings: R for completely improper use of gloves as prophylactics.
Summary: Page just wants a little time to himself with his Kansaiben Whispers REMIX-XX.
AN: sometimes lately i feel like i’m not so much writing as repeating a string of in-jokes. OH WELL HAVE SOME GLOVE PORN.

One Size Fits All

Finding some time to oneself in Akihabara@DEEP’s headquarters was sometimes challenging, especially for the Leader. So, when Taiko and Izumu announced that they were going on a web design side job and weren’t to be contacted under any circumstances, and Box and Daruma went along to help promote one of Akira’s matches, Page was looking forward to a lazy afternoon, spent mostly curled up in his cubby.

Along with his copy of The Unofficial Kansaiben Whispers REMIX-XX Strategy Guide.

Not that he was planning to do anything weird with it, Page reasoned to himself as he stripped off his coat, kicked off his shoes, and crawled happily into his cozy little space, pulling the curtains shut behind him. It was just that sometimes an Otaku needed some alone time with his dating sim profiles of choice. And his pillow felt like heaven under his neck after hours of hunching over his laptop and picking Yui-san’s electronic brain about a certain problem of his.

He’d barely got to the library incident on page 19 before he heard the front door slam and suddenly Page’s certain problem was flinging open his curtains and crawling all over him and hiding in the far corner with his gloves clasped protectively over his head.

“She’s gonna kill me!” Box hissed before Page could even ask, and then his eyes went wide and pleading when the front door slammed again.

They stared at each other as footsteps approached, and Page shivered when an icy female voice said, “Page-kun?”

Box made frantic flailing motions towards the curtain and Page swallowed. “Y-yes?”

“Is Box in there with you?”

“W-what?” Page struggled to keep his voice even, even when Box started punching him in the leg. Finally he gave Box a sharp kick in the thigh and lifted the very edge of his curtain to stick his head out and give Akira an innocent smile. “Of c-c-course not-t.”

Akira crossed her arms and smiled, making Page shiver. “Are you telling the truth, Page-kun? You can tell Akira-chan the truth.”

“Box-kun—” Page cut off with an “Eep!” when Akira cracked a knuckle and Box grabbed his ankle. “H-h-hasn’t be-be-been here.”

Akira stared him down for a very long minute. It was hard to keep a blank expression while Box’s fingers were sinking deep in his skin and Akira was baring her teeth at him, but apparently Page managed, because finally Akira gave a grumpy “Che” and turned away. Page yanked his head back into his cubby as fast as he could.

Box opened his mouth, but Page put a finger to his lips and muttered a frantic “S-s-shh!”

They stayed frozen, staring at each other, listening to Akira stomp around a little, and then there was the steady thwak thwak of her taking out her frustrations on the punching bag.

What did you do? Page mouthed, and Box told the whole story in a shimmying pantomime that Page understood none of, except for the part with the pole dance. Rather than ponder what part Daruma had played in all of this, Page cautiously stuck his head out of the curtain again.

“Well?!” Box hissed, tightening his grip, and Page thought about telling him just how long it had been since he’d washed his socks just to get him to let go before he lost all feeling in his foot. “Is she gone?”

“N-no!” Page yanked his head back in and snapped. “B-but s-she’s got h-h-her m-m-mm, m-m-m—”

“Geez, I’ll just look!” Box rolled his eyes, then stuck his head out the curtain, pawing at it for a second when he didn’t hit the opening right away. Page seized him by the collar and hauled him back, panicking. “She’s got her mp3 player on,” Box reported glumly, over Page protesting that he’d s-s-said that. “Looks like I’m stuck here for a while.”

“H-hey!” Page protested when Box started stripping off his coat and making himself comfortable. “I was g-going to t-t-take a na-nap!”

“Oh bullshit, Leader-san.” Box shoved his coat down by his feet and flopped down with his back against the wall, his head on Page’s pillow. “You’ve still got your finger stuck in that strategy guide.”

“F-fuck off.” Page pushed his glasses up, cheeks turning pink. He went to toss the guide out of his cubby, but Box reached over and grabbed his wrist.

“Na, Page-kun, we are trapped after all,” Box pointed out, coaxing Page into setting the book back on his chest and flipping it open. “We might as well entertain ourselves. But flip back a page, I was only on 17.”

Page rolled his eyes, but smiled just a little as he turned the page back over and Box settled in with his head not quite touching Page’s. It was a bit cramped, with Box’s long legs stretched down to the very end of the cubby, but cozy too, and peaceful with the steady thumping of Akira’s fists against canvas drifting in.

“Move over a little,” Box said a few pages later, shifting over to read the tiny print and muttering “Moe” under his breath.

“You m-move.” Page gave him a little nudge with his shoulder. “It’s my p-p-pillow.”

“Well, your p-p-pillow,” Box retorted, “s-s-sucks.”

Another snappy response leapt to Page’s tongue, but he bit down on it and reached up to tug at his scarf. He lifted his head just far enough to unwind the wool from his neck, then handed it to Box. “H-here. I w-was too warm-m, a-a-anyway.”

Page thought Box would have a few more things to say about that, but Box merely grunted, stuck the scarf under his head, and flopped his cheek back down onto it. He even nodded, apparently satisfied. “Go on, next page.”

By the time Page turned over page 24, Box was shifting again, but it wasn’t because the pillow was too small. In fact, Page sort of wanted to squirm himself, and it had more than a little to do with the half-page, hi-res screencap of Kahori-chan failing to hold down her skirt in a sudden wind.

Page 26 put the final nail in the coffin.

“B-b-b-bloomers!” Page blurted, and for once Box didn’t make fun of him, because he’d said exactly the same thing. Box scootched closer again to get a better look, and they both froze when more than Box’s arm pressed against the outside of Page’s leg.

“Sorry!” Box hissed, trying to back up, but his butt thwacked into the back of the cubby. “I didn’t—”

“Moe,” Page interrupted, then when Box’s jaw dropped, hurried to add, “I m-mean, m-m-mm…” Page took a deep breath and shoved up his glasses with the hand that wasn’t holding the book. “M-me t-t-too.”

Box was still staring at him, and Page shrugged a little, face hot. After a couple seconds, Box’s face relaxed into back its usual grin. He reached over to turn the page.

“Ne, I liked this scenario,” Box said, then didn’t pull back his hand, but let it rest in front of the book on Page’s chest.

“Y-yeah,” Page agreed, wondering if Box could feel the way his heart had just sped up through his glove. It wasn’t helping that he really did like this scenario, and not in the same way he liked oden or tiny dinosaurs.

“She’s pretty energetic, huh?” Box said, and his fingertips flexed a little against Page’s chest. “Like you, Page-kun.”

“M-me?” Page asked, turning his head, but then Box’s hand was suddenly moving, sliding down over Page’s stomach and finally settling over top of exactly how much Page liked Kahori-chan. Page’s mouth worked soundlessly, his whole face burning. “B-b-box-kun?”

“It’s all right, isn’t it?” Box’s grin was a little uncertain at the corners, but he didn’t drop his eyes. “Since we’re stuck in here, and it’s both of us…no, if it’s you, Page-kun, it’s fine, right?”

“O-o-o…” Page dropped one hand to brush knuckles over the zipper of Box’s jeans, ducking his head when Box gasped, “…o-okay.”

“Okay,” Box repeated, then he said it again and it didn’t sound like a question this time. He pushed a little closer to Page, but took his hand away, and Page was a little confused when Box added, “Flip to page eighty-three.”

Page eighty-three, Page quickly discovered, was the scenario where you walked in on Kahori-chan and Miko-chan changing into their tennis uniforms, and Kahori-chan’s wristband wasn’t leaving much to the imagination. Out of the corner of his eye, Page distractedly noticed that Box was stripping off one of his gloves, but didn’t think much of it until Box actually pressed one of the gloves into Page’s hand.

“Eh?” Page tore his eyes away from Kahori-chan and blinked at Box. Box shrugged.

“So it doesn’t…” Box mimed a small explosion with a flick of his long fingers, and Page gave a small “O-oh” and thought about how he’d never seen Box’s fingers for more than a split second at a time before.

He tried to keep on thinking about that, rather than think about the sound of Box’s zipper, or the fact that Box’s glove was still warm, or how soft it felt sliding over Page’s skin, or how weird it was that it seemed perfectly reasonable at that moment to be sharing a pillow with Box while his dick was in one of Box’s gloves.

His thoughts were interrupted while they worked out the logistics, both of them bending a knee up so they could balance the book in between them and each taking a corner of the book to hold with one hand while their other hands were occupied with other, obvious pursuits.

Even with perfectly moe schoolgirls right in front of him, Page couldn’t help stealing sidelong glances of Box’s fingers, watching the way they shifted and curled. He got so distracted by it that he started stroking in rhythm with Box, not even realizing it until Box turned his head to murmur, “Hey, it’s weird if we do it at the same time.”

It made Page start with a surprised laugh, but as he was turning his head to apologize, his breath caught in his throat at the way Box’s eyes were fluttering shut, his lips parted. The part of Page’s brain that was concerned with proper social behavior was yelling something about the shame of jacking off while staring at one’s best friend, but it was totally drowned out when Box’s eyes slid open just far enough to glimmer with amusement, and he hummed, “Hm, Page-kun?”

Page shuddered, fingers crinkling the slick pages of the strategy guide, then hid his face in Box’s shoulder and spent himself against the 50/50 cotton-spandex blend that was still warm from Box’s skin.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut while his heartbeat stuttered and began slowing back to normal, long enough to feel Box shiver where their legs were pressed together and hear the thump of the neglected book sliding down to the blankets between them.

Their breath was the only sound in the cubby until Box chuckled and said, “One size fits all.”

Page thought he felt something brush against his cheek, something that might have been callused from joystick use, but it was gone when his eyes snapped open, and Box was sitting up and straightening himself out.

They tossed the gloves down to the end of the cubby, Box making a pained noise when Page’s glove bounced off his jacket. Page realized suddenly that he couldn’t hear Akira’s punching bag any longer, but didn’t stick his head out to investigate. Box was already flopped back down, cheek resting on Page’s scarf and eyes half-closed.

“You don’t mind if I take a little nap here, right?” Box yawned and settled a little deeper into the blankets. “Be a pal and wake me when Akira’s gone, Page-kun.”

Outside the cubby, the door slammed, and Page looked down to find Box watching him lazily out of one eye, smile not entirely buried in Page’s scarf.

“Sure,” Page agreed before stretching out to take his own much-delayed nap, unconcerned about the book crinkling under his knee as he rolled onto his side.

Just before he drifted off, Page felt his glasses being slid off his face and didn’t worry so much about suppressing his own grin.