For Oofuri 69min! Prompt: Maid Outfit :3
Pairing: Tajihana, and a lil implied Abemiha in the background
Characters: most of the team pops by at one point or another…
Summary: During their second year, Hanai’s class decides to do a cafe again, but this time with a bit of a twist! Hanai’s not sure how he feels about it, though Tajima’s got a more certain (and positive) opinion…
“It’s not an option!”
“You owe us! LAST year, that Abe guy even left halfway through his shift!” Suzuhara, the class rep, crosses her arms, eyes narrowed as she stares Hanai down.
Hanai grits his teeth, glaring back at her, then barks out, “Why the hell am I getting in trouble for him? And that was last year, anyway!”
Oogawa pokes his finger at the centre of Hanai’s chest. “You’re the captain, aren’t you? You’re supposed to keep everyone in line!” Technically, he has nothing to do with organising their festival event, but has a very obvious crush on Suzuhara, and has apparently decided this is an excellent way to win her affections.
Hanai wants to go home.
“That ass does what he wants! Besides, I wasn’t even there when he skipped out! What was I supposed to have done?”
“I don’t know, but…but…something, you dumb jock!”
Hanai splutters out, “The hell, my test sc—”
“Okay, okay, boys, calm down.” Suzuhara takes off her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Look, I can’t make you guys help, but we’ve been supporting you at your games, so it’s only fair! The guys from the basketball club agreed to do it… Show some fucking spirit.”
Hanai deflates a little; not like he wants to be unreasonable, or anything… “Yeah, okay, but this is—”
“Aww, come on, Hanai! It’s gonna be AWESOME!” Hanai cringes when Tajima slaps him on the back. “You’re just afraid I’ll look cuter than you!”
He was hoping, when they announced the plan for the fall festival, that it would’ve been one of the occasions that Tajima wasn’t paying any attention. No such luck. Hanai examines the ceiling tiles with a sigh. This…this is definitely happening to him. Shit.
When they saw the class listings last April, Hanai was pleased when he just picked Abe and Nishihiro’s names out on the list, initially thought he was looking forward to a nice, quiet year. Until powerful hands grabbed his shoulders, and Tajima jumped up, shouting (in his ear), “SAME CLASS! We’re in the SAME CLAAAAAAASS!” He’d dropped down, then, to lean around with his hands on his hips and pout at Hanai. “Waaaaait… Hanai’s lame! I bet you’ll make me do my homework, and won’t even pass notes about porn when the lesson’s boring.” He turns, and runs off into the crowd. “MIHASHIIIIII! WHERE ARE YOU? I WANNA BE IN YOUR CLASS AGAIN! HANAI’S GONNA RUIN EVERYTHING!” Hanai had been left staring stiffly at the board, trying to ignore the titters of laughter from around him, feeling slightly doomed.
And then…things had happened. Things that, yes, did involve him and Nishihiro dragging Tajima to the library to do homework after class, and then involved Hanai dragging him to his apartment after practices when he saw in person how abysmal Tajima’s test scores were and just how bad he was at studying. But then things began to involve Tajima pressing against his shoulder when Hanai was showing him examples, flopping across his lap when he didn’t want to work anymore, demanding to stay the night if he was gonna make him read another passage, and Hanai felt annoyed by it until he caught himself leaning into Tajima’s personal space when he was correcting a practice test, holding on to him a little too long when he was dragging him away from the fridge (again), letting him lie across his lap (nuzzling his leg in a way that was really unfair) for longer than necessary before shoving him off and telling him to smarten up, and finally, one ill-advised night before finals, things involved telling Tajima FINE, if he promises to finish this chapter, YES, he can stay the fucking night. Tajima cheered, and Hanai felt a little like he’d lost, somehow. And then…
And then he’d come back from brushing his teeth to find Tajima, grinning cheekily, sitting in the middle of his bed, NOT on the futon laid out on the floor. And he wouldn’t move, even when Hanai politely suggested he should sleep in his own bed. And then less politely. And then yelled at him, provoking answering yells from his sisters next door. And then, growling out something quieter but no less menacing, tried to forcibly remove him. Which led to them wrestling on his bed, which somewhere in the back of his mind sent up DANGER signals but also AWESOME and GO FOR IT and before he knew what was happening, he had Tajima pinned down and was kissing him, all teeth and noses and the ache of his left shoulder where Tajima had kicked him at some point and wonderful. Hanai had sat back with a loud “HAH,” triumph and exhilaration and uncertainty all vying in him, until Tajima let out a noisy, appreciative breath, said, “AWESOME,” and then, smiling broadly and grabbing at his shirt, “Do it again!”
So he did, and then again, and once more, just to be sure, and Tajima never did end up using the futon after all, not that night, nor any of the others after it.
Doesn’t mean he stopped being a pain in the ass, though, just sometimes leaves Hanai extra confused about whether he wants to kiss or strangle him. Like right now, when he’s enthusiastically yanking on Hanai’s arm and telling him, “Don’t be such a spoilsport! It’s just for one day—less than!—and probably barely anyone will even COME!” And then, with whatever unholy combination of luck and skill that he possesses, Tajima finds a moment where everyone else’s attention is elsewhere to stand on his toes and whisper in his ear, “‘Sides, I like maid outfits.”
— — —
He doesn’t want to leave the bathroom dressed like this. “The kouhai are gonna see me! They won’t be able to take me seriously!”
Tajima is taking longer than seems strictly speaking necessary to do up the back of the high-collared dress. “You think they take you seriously now? Lemme tell you, Captain, what I heard little Ryuu-chan say in the clubroom the other day…”
“Don’t tell me!” Hanai turns to glare over his shoulder at him; Tajima, unsurprisingly, grins.
“Oh, really? Then I’ll have to find someone else to tell that he actually said,” Tajima puffs up his chest and glowers in imitation of the serious first-year, ““Hanai-san is so cool!” and “I wanna be strong and hit home runs like him!” won’t I?”
“Eh?!” Hanai stiffens, feeling his cheeks start to colour.
“Mihashi was telling them about the home run you got off Haruna last year… Hey, crouch down! I can’t get the hook, I need to see…”
Hanai has serious doubts about that. “I’ll get Abe to do it.”
“He already left!” Tajima pulls insistently at Hanai’s shoulder, and, against his better judgement, he bends his knees until his neck is level with Tajima’s face, holding on to the sink for balance. He still avoids looking at himself in the mirror in front of him, instead glancing around the bathroom, which is when he notices that the door’s swinging shut behind the last person, and they’re alone. Crap.
Lips press against the nape of his neck, an arm slides around his chest, pressing the cotton against his skin. Tajima’s mouth opens a little, sucking gently, and Hanai feels every hair on his body stand up, and now he extra doesn’t want to look in the mirror.
“You’re being silly. You look hot.” The words come out surprisingly soft, vibrations against his skin that leave him tensing, clenching his hands on the edge of the sink. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
Hanai has to admit it doesn’t look as terrible as he thought it would—someone had put enough thought into selecting the outfits they’d rented to pick ones that flattered a less curvaceous physique. The cream pinafore pulls in tight around his ribs and waist, apron skirt with its ridiculous ruffled edge hanging down over the navy skirt, flared to give the illusion of hips (he’d tried to dig his heels in about the fucking pannier—was already resentful enough that he knew what a pannier was—but Abe helpfully pointed out that the dress looked stupid without it, and Suzuhara shoved it into his arms with the rest of the outfit and an admonishing glare). The flatness of their chests is somewhat concealed by the tightly ruffled front of the dress and ridiculous full bows that reach almost to where the pinafore starts: someone had managed to find cream ribbons with narrow stripes of a reddish-orange that approximately matched Nishiura’s colours.
The frills on the arm straps of the pinafores were probably a bad idea, though—on someone like Hanai, especially with the puffed sleeves of the dress, they just emphasize how broad his shoulders are, but really, he likes that, and he has a feeling, with the way Tajima’s running his hands across his shoulders, he likes it too. It’s still pretty obvious they’re meant for women, though, and even with the largest size, the dress is a little snug, a little short on him, irritatingly restrictive when he’s used to athletic clothes, and Hanai’s just glad they’re not expected to do much more than bring cups of tea to people.
“We should go,” he starts, not sounding particularly committed to the idea.
“Don’t wanna!” Tajima kisses his neck again, up to his hairline to nuzzle the short curls and bite the knot of the ribbon holding the headband on, then slides his fingers up into his hair, ruffling it. “Good thing you grew your hair out a little…looks cuter than if you were still a baldy!” Hanai opens his mouth to retort, but just gasps because Tajima’s pressing against his back, and shit, shit, even through all those layers of fabric, he can still feel his hard-on against his ass, and it’s suddenly hard to form a coherent sentence.
“Ah, damn, Tajima…” Hanai arches, shoving his ass back against him. But Tajima slips away, elusive and snickering and enough to drive him insane.
Tajima plants a fist on his hips, pointing an admonishing finger at Hanai. “What’re you doing? We gotta go help! Geeeeeeeez, wouldn’t think you’d be so irresponsible!”
Hanai chases him, yelling, across the hall and into the classroom, and is barely restrained from doing him harm by Nishihiro, who interposes himself with an armful of tablecloth to ask Hanai to help him replace one that’s already been spilled on. As they shake out and straighten the fabric and then reset the table, he has to reflect that at least the full skirt hides any evidence of why he was trying to murder Tajima this time…
They keep the doors closed until it’s time to start; they’ve managed to keep the exact nature of their cafe under wraps up until now, although he thinks someone on the festival organisation committee might have leaked that one of the classes pooled money to rent maid costumes, and most people will be able to look at the list of events and displays and figure out where those ended up. And he wasn’t looking to see if there was anyone in the hall when he ran across, just now, so… A cold feeling of dread builds in Hanai’s stomach.
“You look like shit.” Abe’s a little too big for the dress, too, but at least his skirt reaches to his knees like it’s supposed to. He probably also has proper tights on, Hanai can’t help thinking resentfully.
He bends to adjust his once again, grumbling, “Wow, thanks. You look like a goddamn fairy princess, yourself,” back at him.
“Not what I meant. The girls’ll yell at you if you’re still making that face when people start coming in.” Abe crosses his arms over his chest, giving him an assessing look. “The dress looks fine.” He gives him a lopsided grin. “Cheer up, it’s only for a couple hours. And if we’re lucky, no one’ll come in. Barely anyone came to the cafe, last year.”
“How would you know? You were only there for like five minutes, from what I heard.” Despite Abe’s somewhat lacking pep talk, Hanai does feel better. At least he’s not alone in this. He looks over to where two guys from the basketball club are laughing and trying to flip each other’s skirts up, then over to where Nishihiro’s helping Tajima straighten his bow—they’re both slim enough that their dresses fit well, though Nishihiro’s hit a growth spurt recently, and his skirt is also a little on the short side. Tajima’s hangs a little past his knees, perfectly demure. Hanai’s eyebrow twitches; what a fucking lie.
“Hey, we had research to… Okay, the blush is a nice touch, but now you look like you wanna murder someone.” Hanai turns his scowl on Abe’s smirking face, then sighs heavily. He can get through this. Probably.
The first ‘customers’ to come in (to an uncoordinated chorus of ‘Okaerinasai, goshujinsama!”) are, unsurprisingly, a trio of otaku-looking guys who look rather disappointed, drinking their tea and eating their small pieces of cake in silence before leaving hurriedly. After that, a few more groups of snickering boys come in, some friendly, some less so, and Hanai starts to seriously consider hiding in the bathroom, Suzuhara be damned. But after that, the first band of giggling, blushing girls comes in, and soon, the tone of the room lightens.
Unsurprisingly, Tajima is the star of the evening, posing coyly for pictures and winning over every table of girls he waits on with his boisterousness and ridiculous smile, though Hanai also overhears some appreciative remarks about Nishihiro, whose quietness (and tendency to remember to actually bring people their refreshments) appears to be charming a certain segment.
He doesn’t hear anything about Abe, though, or at least nothing nice (the best he gets is “that one guy isn’t bad…until he opens his mouth…”) Not like he doesn’t have fans, or at least a fan: at one point, Tajima drags a struggling Mihashi in from the hallway, shoving him down in a seat, and then running off to attend to four girls in yukata. Hanai keeps an eye on him, ready to waylay any of the other boys if they try to serve him, but he really needn’t have worried: Abe seems to appear out of nowhere, flopping down in the seat beside him in an impressively inelegant pose, making him jump, and immediately starting to talk about the practice game they’d played on the weekend. Hanai rolls his eyes, walk past and muttering, “You’re supposed to be serving, not chatting…”
Abe looks up at him blandly. “It’s important.”
“Yeah, of course. It always is. At least bring him a drink, geez.”
“Oh, I have! This!” Mihashi shoves his ticket at Abe, then pulls it back, looking at Hanai and starting to offer it to him, then holding it out to Abe again. He’s a lot more flushed than one would expect from just discussing batting data, but it’s hard to tell whether or not Abe’s noticed.
He does frown a little when he snatches the slip of paper out of Mihashi’s hand, but then says, “If you’re hungry, you should say something. Have you eaten this evening?”
“Y-yeah! I had…I had cotton candy!”
Abe makes an irritated noise, standing. “That doesn’t count…” Still, he drags Mihashi with him over to the makeshift curtained-off “kitchen”, so perhaps there’s hope for them after all.
“Glad you’re not as dense as him.” Hanai jumps, then looks over at Tajima, who smiles at him affectionately. “Took you long enough as it was.”
“The hell…? Why was it MY responsibility?” Hanai smiles back, undermining his grumbly tone.
“Well, I was gonna just kiss you, but I can’t reach!” Tajima jumps a couple times to demonstrate, then a few more times, when he notices the way the skirt poofs out.
Hanai sets his hand on his head, holding him down. “Keep your voice down!”
Undaunted, Tajima continues, though he does speak more softly. “I thought about it when we were studying together a couple times, but I figured you’d get mad… ‘Sides, I was shy!”
“You’re right, I woul—wait, you? Shy??” Hanai frowns at Tajima, who’s making a weird sullen face that is definitely not cute.
“Yeah! Obviously. Even if I wasn’t a guy… You’re all smart and cool and tall and hot and you have these legs like—”
“Shut UP!” Hanai covers Tajima’s mouth, blushing furiously, but Tajima kisses his palm, so he snatches his hand back. “You’re terrible.”
“Yeah, but you looooove it!” Tajima flees before Hanai can do anything more than splutter and glare.
Most of their teammates drop in over the course of the evening, including the kouhai, none of whom seem to have lost any respect for him after all. (“Wow, Hanai-san is so brave!” “Hanai-san looks cool, even like this!”) It’s almost worse than if they’d made fun of him, and he has to retreat to the kitchen to hide, busying himself tidying until he hears them leave.
He sees Shinooka poke her head around the door at one point, and waves at her; she waves back, though she seems to be scanning the room for something or someone. Tajima bounds up to her, and Hanai can clearly hear him demanding to be admired as he does a little spin; Shinooka laughs, but Hanai can’t hear her (undoubtedly polite) response. The next time he looks, she’s gone.
Sakaeguchi is the only one to notice (or at least, to comment) that the headbands are handmade. Hanai touches it self-consciously. “The girls made them. Said they couldn’t trust us to make them nice.”
“Well, tell them they’re great! Still…woulda been better if they were wearing them…”
“I’m not gonna relay that. Some of the girls in our class’re scary. You’re LUCKY it’s not them serving you…”
Sakaeguchi’s eyes widen. “Whoa, really? Scarier than that?” He gestures at Abe, who’s chewing out some first-years who spilled tea all over another tablecloth.
“Yeah, maybe not…”
Izumi and Hamada show up a bit later, Mihashi rather suspiciously in tow. Hanai watches, trying not to burst out laughing, as Mihashi tries to both watch Abe and hide behind the other two, and then leaps in the air when Nishihiro puts his hand on his shoulder, gently reminding him that he’s only allowed one piece of cake.
Izumi looks over at him, eyebrows raised, and asks, archly, “Oh? I though you said you hadn’t come to see them, yet…” Mihashi sinks down out of his chair and under the tablecloth, and Hanai can’t stop himself from laughing, then, especially when Hamada and Izumi both crouch down, the former trying to gently coax Mihashi out, the latter continuing, helpfully, “…You trying to look up their skirts, down there?” Hanai’s pretty sure Mihashi’s crying.
Tajima runs over. “Mihashi, you can look up my skirt! Look, I got girl’s underwear, special!” He flips up his skirt, and, judging by the faces Izumi and Hamada make, he’s not lying. Hanai chokes a little. Izumi bowls him over, sitting on him, and with all the flailing and fabric, Hanai can’t see what he’s doing, but judging by the indignant squawks coming from Tajima, it’s none too pleasant.
“HOW MANY TIMES DO WE HAVE TO TELL YOU?? DON’T! FLASH! PEOPLE!!” Hanai feels like perhaps the chivalrous thing to do would be to intervene on his boyfriend’s behalf, but he trusts that Tajima deserves whatever punishment Izumi’s doling out. And at any rate, Mihashi, no longer crying, appears to be trying to save him, reaching for him, and stuttering something placating at Izumi.
A hand clamps around Mihashi’s arm, and Abe pulls him to his feet, giving him a perplexed look, and drags him off into a corner to talk. And then, glancing over his shoulder at them with a shell-shocked expression, out into the hall. Hanai almost misses it, because Mizutani has shown up and joined the other two, and they’re milking the whole ‘maid’ thing for all it’s worth.
“Hanai-chan, there’s a smudge on this cup, I need a clean one!” There is no smudge on the cup.
“Hanai-chan, this napkin isn’t soft enough. Bring me a nicer one!” The napkins are shitty paper ones with cupcakes printed on them. Hanai brings another one and threatens to shove it in Hamada’s mouth.
“Whoops! I dropped mine on the floor! I’m sooooo sorry!” Mizutani doesn’t look even a little bit sorry. “Someone better clean it up!” Hanai glowers at him, but bends to pick it up anyway; he’s enjoying the game, really, even if he’s also thinking of ways to get them back, later…
He realises too late his mistake when somebody slips a finger (that they’re about to lose) under the band of one of his tights, pulling the elastic and snapping it against the back of his thigh.
Hanai stands up straight as a pole, leaving the napkin on the floor, eyes wide. Hamada whistles, says, “Whoa, that’s commitment.”
“The boxers kind of ruin the look, though. You really oughta take a cue from Tajima…”
“What? What was it? I couldn’t see!” Mizutani stands, craning to look behind Hanai, as though he could see better like that.
“Hanai’s got thigh-highs on.”
He finally regains control of his tongue. “THE REGULAR ONES WOULDN’T FIT! I DIDN’T WANT TO!” He grabs at his skirt, holding it down when Mizutani tries to lift it up.
“Geez, calm down! No one said you did. Huh.” He fails to stop Izumi from lifting his skirt in the back. “Seriously, though, you should’ve worn nicer underwear. And why’d you wear the boring kind? Garters are way better.”
“Weren’t you just yelling at Tajima about not flashing people?! Leave my damn clothes alone, both of you!” He slaps Mizutani’s hands away, but not before he’s managed to pull the skirt up and get a good look.
“I agree with Izumi. You should be wearing cute garters! You’re the absolute WORST maid, Hanai! Geez…” He ignores them, because mentioning Tajima’s name has made him wonder if he caught this little exchange, though he’s not sure whether he wants him to have, or not…
He looks around, finally catches sight of Tajima standing across the room, and yes, behind him, so he probably saw everything. He’s just staring at him wide-eyed, and for once Tajima, Tajima is the one blushing bright red, right out to the tips of his ears. Hanai can feel himself blushing, too, and he turns away. Thankfully, the table has moved on to a heated debate of whether knee-high or ankle socks are cuter, so he’s able to flee without comment. The dress is too tight, he can’t breathe, he can’t think, and he retreats to the “kitchen” to grab himself a cup of tea and lean against the wall, closing his eyes and trying desperately to collect himself.
Maybe there’s too much ambient noise, maybe he’s just that agitated, but he doesn’t notice anything until he feels his skirt move. He almost drops his tea, looking down to find Tajima kneeling in front of him, pushing up his skirt, and if that wasn’t enough to leave him with blood rushing to his dick fast enough to leave him faint, he’s wearing the kind of determined, focused face he usually saves for a really challenging at-bat.
“Fuck, Tajima,” Hanai breathes out, fumbling to put his tea down as Tajima ducks his head under the skirt.
His voice floats up to Hanai. “Told you. I really like maid outfits.”
Hanai could maybe get to like maid outfits, too.
— — —
Bonus: I did a quick sketch, because I wanted to have a firm image of the outfit in mind, not that it ended up being that relevant… And THEN I tried to make a Generic Fashion Sketch person look like a curly-haired Hanai AFTER the fact…didn’t really work out…too skinny… But w/e.
You can’t see his shoes because
I’m bad at drawing them he’s probably wearing sneakers, which are not very moe.
Shame on you, shittily drawn maid!Hanai! Wear cuter accessories.