Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Matter of Perspective ❯ Taichi ( Chapter 9 )

DISCLAIMER: See previous parts.

A/N: Is it just me, or am I always updating this story in the middle of the night? O.o This installment features the promised taito squishiness. Taichi surprised me by getting rather sappy and emotional, which just goes to show that he does want to do more than hump Yamato's leg. (As one reader so colorfully put it. Thanks, Jessie!) One of my favorite parts of this story was writing in the digimon. Despite loving them all to pieces, I've just never included them before for some weird reason. Call it plot convenience, I suppose. Heterosexual experimentation abounds, which is why I boosted the rating. Enjoy!

Taichi said goodbye and set the phone back on its cradle. Then he picked it up again and slammed the mouthpiece into his forehead. When Agumon passed through the kitchen to get a snack, he paused and turned to watch this but didn't seem to find it particularly worrisome. Maybe, Taichi thought, his digimon just figured a little weirdness was par for the course. But he didn't understand. This was different -- everything involving Yamato was different.

Why, for the love of god, had he invited her over? When Hikari was spending the night at Takeru's and his own parents weren't due back for hours? Yamato didn't need to come here. If their story worked at all, Mr. Ishida would've found it just as convincing with her staying at home by herself. In fact, faking sick always looked better when you didn't try to spend time with friends. Not as if Taichi could call them friends without feeling bitter, but that was part of the problem.

"Yamato's coming over," he announced, wandering dejectedly into the living room.

The little dinosaur blinked, and even tore his gaze away from the TV momentarily. "Did you two make up?"

That threw Taichi, but of course it made perfect sense. Why wouldn't Agumon decide they must have had a fight? Two good friends who suddenly stopped hanging out together all the time -- or rather, one of them started making excuses instead of going over to the other's apartment. Wondering where to even begin explaining what it meant not to trust yourself alone with someone, Taichi finally gave up and shrugged. "I guess you could say that."

"Oh, good. Is Gabumon coming, too?"

"Maybe. If he wants to. Yamato didn't really say."

"I hope so." Agumon sighed. "I missed being friends with him."

On the one hand, the idea that their digimon had felt obligated to stop being friends just because they were supposedly fighting made him want to laugh -- but on the other hand, Taichi thought it was probably the cutest thing he'd ever heard. Shaking his head, he took a quick glance at the time and then retreated into his bedroom. Assuming Yamato left right after she called her father, she would be here in just a few minutes and Taichi wanted to be semi-dressed before then. Nothing fancy, but just because he had spent the whole day lounging around in his boxers didn't mean she needed to know that. Pants, clean t-shirt, and socks. Socks were important, because people tended to assume you had actually gone out and done something at some point recently if you were wearing socks.

Feeling much more confident (if semi-resentful because Agumon seemed to think this qualified as dressing up), Taichi went back into the kitchen and dug around in his refrigerator for a while. Top shelf had milk, that weird kind of cheese with the impossible name that Hikari was eating so much of right now, and his mother's weight-control drinks (like she needed them); middle shelf was eggs, Coke, and leftovers from last night's dinner with a note pinned to the plastic wrap that said he could eat them if he got hungry; then drawers full of rabbit food in case Sora had tricked Yamato into going vegetarian again. Nothing spectacular.

He went to the cupboards and tried once more. Well, they had lots of cereal. Some brand of generic potato chips. The microwave popcorn looked promising, if Yamato decided she felt like watching a movie. Maybe there would be something decent on TV for once. Stale cookies and jellybeans rounded out the shelves, but his dad had gotten a decent flavor of ice-cream last time he was at the store (not just vanilla, for once), so that covered dessert. Again, nothing spectacular -- but it would do in a pinch. Maybe he'd get lucky and Yamato would take one look at the refrigerator before deciding to order pizza or better yet whip something up herself. Anything Yamato cooked would suit him just fine.

So, food problem solved. All Taichi needed to do now was keep his hands off his best friend for half an hour or so, until Mr. Ishida came to take her home.

He was going to die. Slowly and painfully.

Stop that! Taichi snarled at himself. Stay positive. You can do this. Hell, you've been doing it for the last three years. How hard could one more half-hour be? Yesterday went okay, didn't it? Yeah.

The doorbell rang, and he tucked in his shirt hastily. This was going to be fine. Thinking about yesterday had helped. If he could handle seeing Yamato dressed like that, he could handle anything. He had actually started feeling good about himself by the time he made it to the hallway. Certain that his best friend had done her worst, the brunette opened his front door with a little flourish.

She smiled, almost shyly.

I'm going to die. "So," Taichi drawled with what he thought was a decent imitation of nonchalance, "when is your dad coming to drag you home?"

It seemed to work well enough -- or at least, she wasn't in the right frame of mind to care if his desperation showed through.

"I don't know. What time is it now?" She looked around for a clock, found one, nodded to herself. "In about twenty minutes. Then I'll start wondering whether this was really worth it."

He had the beginnings of a good joke, something classic about daring to doubt the value of his time and where she should go for a refund if she felt really outraged. But then Yamato shook her head, blonde hair just long enough to do that thing you almost never saw outside the movies -- thick waves of it shimmering and rolling against her neck in slow-motion. How come he could look at her and still see him, when even her eyes were different?

Because Yamato had that effect on him. He tried hard to be cynical and disenfranchised: as a teenager in the modern world, that attitude went with the job description. None of this changed the fact that an afternoon alone with the Keeper of Friendship made him suddenly want to believe in all that romantic bullshit from Hikari's trashy novels. Eyes as the windows to the soul. Romeo and Juliet. Saving yourself for the wedding night. Simultaneous orgasms. Yamato was all of that, to him. Hell, she was more. Not perfect (people lose that ability once you get to know them), but magic in a sense.

And Taichi knew...had known, ever since his best friend stayed over for the night right before his twelfth birthday. She passed by him now, on her way into the living room, and he caught her faint indescribable scent -- one part of her that he could honestly say had not changed. It was still the same as it had been then, when a scared little boy with hardly any friends had squeezed his hand at midnight and played Happy Birthday on the harmonica. He wondered whether any of Ishida Yamato's adoring fans knew how much their idol used to hate singing.

"Taichi?"

She had her slippers on, shoes discarded at the door -- her coat in the closet, her digimon crawling over to join his on the couch. There was nothing left to do but make conversation.

"Err, yeah?" he replied intelligently. Off to a great start.

"Are you just going to stand there until my dad comes?"

As appealing as that sounded (the distance prevented dirty thoughts), Taichi grinned hollowly at her and shoved his hands into his pockets. "That was the plan. Why, what did you have in mind?"

"Well," the blonde suggested in a reasonable sort of voice that left him entirely unprepared for what she meant to say, "we could always make out."

He choked, even though his brain had already decided this was the worst possible way to react. Yamato thumped his back a second later, already on her feet and trying to reassure him that she had only been joking. As if that was a good and helpful thing to say, he found himself thinking resentfully; then admitting afterwards with even more resentment that feeling resentful was unfair. Not like he'd bothered to ever tell her or anything, right?

"Are you okay now?" she asked, obviously feeling guilty.

No. But she'd never know that. The same Keeper of Courage who had faced down more terrifying and destructive evil digimon than he could count was afraid of this little girl. Afraid she would look at him with those beautiful expressive eyes that now worried about his well-being and whisper, "I never want to see you again." So he made himself smile another sickly smile, because he would control himself no matter what. The idea of losing Yamato hurt too much for anything else.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Aside from making out -- which I think might give your dad a stroke -- was there anything else you wanted to do?"

A wry smirk. "You flatter yourself. Like Dad would really notice you before he noticed these?" She cupped her breasts and lifted them demonstratively, giving Taichi the helpless irrational impression that she wanted him to stare at her cleavage.

Which he was doing. With his mouth open.

Recovery! He needed to distract Yamato before she had the time to wonder why her totally platonic friend (no sarcasm there at all) looked like he wanted to run the length and breadth of his tongue over every inch of her body. Well, maybe not every inch. Bellybuttons tasted weird no matter who they belonged to.

"There," Taichi heard his own voice saying calmly while the rest of him straightened up again. Proving conclusively that sometimes his gut made the best decisions when his brain wasn't bothering it. "Have I noticed them enough to soothe your injured feelings, or should I ogle a little while longer? I think I can drool if you give me a minute."

She laughed, and let her hands fall away. He wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. "My ego's much better now, thanks. Somehow, it managed to recover from the idea that I might not be the center of attention every second of every day for the rest of my life."

"Gasp, and other noises of shock."

More laughter. Yamato shook her head again in the way that made time slow down. "Keep this up, Taichi. You'll make a great boyfriend. Girls are supposed to love a guy who can make them laugh."

He didn't wince, didn't even think about that long enough to feel its sting. "Then what are you supposed to be? Or is whiny brooding also a turn-on in that part of the galaxy?"

"I get by on my good looks," the blonde retorted. Then she paused, and gave him a cursory once-over. "Not that you couldn't do the same with some decent clothes and a clean face." It was really turning into more of a twice-over. "Hell, even without them."

Taichi tried to answer and ended up swallowing noisily. She had a strange, unfamiliar look in her eyes. Sort of faraway but intense. It made him want to do things and take risks that he knew were absolutely out of the question -- like tilt her face up with his hands and kiss that quirked, softly pouting mouth. He gave himself a mental shake.

She seemed to have done the same thing. "Of course, that's just my opinion. What do I know about the mind of a girl?"

"More each passing second?"

That put them back on firmer ground. She elbowed him lightly in the ribs, then went over to stand in front of his refrigerator. "I don't suppose you've got anything to eat? Boy or girl, I am hungry."

And so they whittled away the next few minutes waiting for the microwave to ding. Turned out that Sora had in fact recently tricked Yamato into going vegetarian, but she was coming to the point again where she resented it and so pounced on the leftover chicken like a madwoman. He struggled not to grin widely. Only Yamato could make wolfing down a chicken sandwich look adorable. Maybe her bellybutton wouldn't have tasted weird, after all.

"What are you thinking about?" the blonde asked unexpectedly between bites.

Obviously, the truth was out of the question. He shrugged, opened his mouth without thinking about it and said, "Nothing much. Just wondering what boobs feel like."

In the shocked silence that followed, Taichi reflected that then again sometimes his gut made really stupid decisions too.

"Would you like to find out?"

He was positive he hadn't heard that right. Sure, Yamato definitely seemed more comfortable with her female body now than she had been yesterday, but even most real girls weren't this comfortable. So Taichi waited for the punch line, because she must have been joking. When it didn't come, he shifted uneasily. "Very funny."

"Who said I was trying to be funny?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's your domain, not mine. I mean it, Taichi. Would you like to see what they feel like?"

All he could think was yes. Yes. Even if he hadn't been in love with her, even if he hadn't spent the last day or so watching those breasts move while she breathed, yes. But that was beyond stupid. He kept his mouth firmly shut just in case it had any more bright ideas, only to feel her small hands take hold of his own. Yamato pulled gently, and he panicked when he realized she was reeling them in. Closer to a body he dreamed about almost every night.

Really, he meant to break away long before they were close enough to touch. It was just that he desperately didn't want to. Three years had passed sluggishly, and now he felt like he couldn't breathe but as if putting his hands on her, right there, even through her clothes, would make up for so much lost air. Then she was letting go of him -- and he was holding on to her.

Soft. Firm. Warm and yielding. Resilient, though. He would have to really dig his fingernails in if he wanted to leave a mark. Not that Taichi wanted to bruise her. At least not here. Maybe on her neck, so people could see it. God, she had incredible breasts.

"Well?" Yamato's voice had a curious edge to it.

"Kinda squishy." So did his, actually. "You?"

When she didn't answer right away, Taichi glanced up to find her staring back at him. Slightly flushed and with that same unfamiliar look in her eyes. She shivered. "Weird."

"Bad?"

"No. Just weird."

He nodded. This seemed as good as any excuse to pull away from her before he screwed things up, but Taichi never quite managed it because they were suddenly kissing -- his lips hard on hers, his arms snapping automatically around her waist, his mind trailing far behind in a state of horrified fascination. She tasted so good. So fucking good. He felt himself shoving her against the counter, tipping the body that had been easy to lift before but was effortless now backwards so she was spread out underneath him like the main course. It took Taichi that long to regain his senses, and even then he almost didn't stop. His pants were so tight they hurt. But he closed his eyes and backed away.

Only to have Yamato grab his shirt and pull him down again.

Already much abused, his brain seemed to decide that giving up now while they were ahead made the most sense. It shut down before the full shock of the situation could penetrate and maybe do irreparable damage. The rest of him had just started to enjoy having Yamato's tongue in his mouth when someone rapped their knuckles harshly on his front door. From the inside. Which meant that the someone was separated from where they stood by only a thin plaster wall.

The kitchen floor, Taichi then discovered, could be very painful when you hit it hard enough and from the right angle. It wasn't a quality he had ever really appreciated before, probably because Yamato had never shoved him violently away from the counter. Playfully, once or twice -- but this wasn't playful, and neither was the stricken expression on her face. She had started to tremble.

"Yamato?" Mr. Ishida, poking his head curiously into the kitchen and frowning slightly at the two of them. "Did I scare you or something? Sorry about that...I knocked a few times and no one answered, but the door wasn't locked and I figured you were just watching TV or listening to the radio really loud." He paused, and for a moment Taichi had the horrible paranoid feeling that Mr. Ishida somehow knew. The older man had obviously realized there was something not right here, and...

"Yamato, why are you wearing a dress? Does Sora know about this?"

She didn't look at him, didn't even seem to react, and when she spoke, her voice was flat. "Can we talk about it when we get home?"

Her dad agreed reluctantly, and went downstairs to start the car while she got her things. Taichi moved towards her -- not sure what he was going to say, but knowing that he didn't want to let her walk out before he said something -- and blinked when he felt her hands press against his chest, keeping him at bay.

"Yamato..."

"Don't. I have to go now, okay? I just..." Her eyes flickered and focused on something in the distance. The complete lack of expression in them was disconcerting. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

She left her scent behind.

End Part Nine