die gute seite

Fic: Articulation Problems

2006-06-17T20:27:11Z

Title: Articulation problems
Author: die_gute_seite
Pairing: Tezuka/Ryoma
Words: ~1500
Rating: PG
Summary: He’s twenty-four. He shouldn’t have articulation problems. Least of all with Ryoma.

Many, many, many thanks to the very lovely liathcosan for her amazing Beta. I have rarely met someone as nice, helpful, encouraging, supporting and patient as her. Thank you so much, Cynthia, I really, really appreciate it! ♥

Articulation Problems

Everything changes, when Ryoma finds the letter. He just stares at Tezuka, eyes wide with shock and anger and much more than Tezuka could possibly deal with.

“Ryoma,” he starts and takes a step forward, but Ryoma shakes his head and it hurts Tezuka to see him back away. He does it so vehemently that he hits his lower back into the kitchen table and winces. There will be a bruise the following morning. It also hurts to know that Tezuka won’t be able to caress it. Not this time.

“Of all people,” Ryoma snaps and the crumbled up letter hits Tezuka like a Twist Serve. Ryoma looks like he is trying to catch his breath, he's panting and still staring in that agonizing, intent way, much like he does on the tennis courts whenever he decides on how to completely destroy the opponent. But then he hangs his head and shrugs and mutters “Che” and Tezuka knows that now is the moment. He has to keep Ryoma from leaving the room. But when Ryoma passes him, he can’t bring himself to reach out and close his hand around the other boy’s arm.

-

He spends the afternoon sitting on the couch in their living room, waiting for Ryoma to come home, repeating the words he couldn’t bring himself to say earlier over and over in his head. He even says them out loud once, but feels stupid afterwards. He’s twenty-four. He shouldn’t have articulation problems. Least of all with Ryoma.

-

Karupin joins him some time later, curling up in his lap. Tezuka scratches him behind the ears and closes his eyes, imagining Ryoma sitting next to him, complaining that Karupin doesn’t spend half as much time with him since they moved in together.

“He likes you more than me,” he often complains.

Karupin purrs contently.

-

At five pm his cell phone rings.

“Yes,” he says and is horrified by the way his voice sounds. As if he was in the middle of puberty. He clears his throat and nearly says “Ryoma.”, but it's Inui who talks.

“Hello, Tezuka. Data suggests that the possibility of you having an affair with Atobe is less than—“

Tezuka hangs up. When did he get so careless? When did he stop looking at the caller display before answering the phone? When did he stop hiding Atobe’s letters? They weren’t even letters, Tezuka thinks. They were simple invitations. And he has repeatedly asked Atobe to leave the hearts from the i’s in Kunimitsu.

-

He turns the TV on, but the first thing that comes on the screen is an advertisement for Ponta and he can still taste the grape in his mouth from last night.

He should probably put a few cans into the refrigerator. Ryoma likes his Ponta cold.

-

At seven pm his phone rings again and this time Tezuka isn’t careless. His heart pounds against his ribcage when he sees Ryoma’s name on the display and he nearly drops the phone, his hands are shaking so much.

“Ryoma,” he says and holds his breath.

“It’s me, Fuji. Don’t hang up!” Tezuka wonders when Fuji got to know him so well. He also wonders why Fuji is talking on Ryoma’s phone. He doesn’t want to get angry, but hitting something hard feels like a rather reasonable idea.

“Fuji,” he says and Fuji will know what he means to say: “Why do you have that phone? Where is Ryoma? What are you doing with him? Make him come back.”

“I knew you wouldn’t answer, if I had called from my own phone. Echizen challenged me to a match, Tezuka,” Fuji says and Tezuka can tell he isn’t smiling. “He won six games to love.”

Tezuka swallows and tries not to breathe too loudly. His throat starts to hurt and he finds he isn’t able to say anything to that.

Fuji doesn’t expect him to anyway. “Why don’t you tell Echizen the truth?”

When Tezuka doesn’t answer, Fuji sighs audibly. “You don’t want to lose him, Tezuka,” he says and hangs up on him. Tezuka doesn’t move for the next ten minutes.

Every part of his body aches. He doesn’t stop at the bathroom to brush his teeth or wash his face but makes his way straight to their bedroom. Karupin follows and sits on Ryoma’s sheets, eyeing Tezuka questioningly, as he lays down.

“He will come home, don’t worry,” he tells the cat, more to convince himself than anything else. Karupin meows skeptically but hops onto Tezuka’s stomach nevertheless.

-

It is two am when Tezuka gets up again. He takes a can of Ponta out of the refrigerator, sits at the kitchen table Ryoma hit against earlier that day and savors the grape juice on his tongue. He always tells Ryoma how unhealthy it is and that he should drink water or tea instead. Ryoma once answered that the amount of lavender shirts Tezuka owns is much more dangerous for his health than the consumption of Ponta. Tezuka remembers that he cracked a smile at that.

-

At four am Karupin jumps on his lap and digs his claws into Tezuka’s forearm. “I don’t know, Karupin,” he replies, his eyes closed and the unfinished can of Ponta still in his hand. “I don’t know.”

-

He starts when he hears the sound of a door opening. There's a shuffle of feet on the floor and the door closes again. Now there are footsteps and Tezuka holds his breath; Ryoma appears in the kitchen door, stopping dead at the sight of him and Karupin.

They stare at each other and Tezuka tries to remember the words he practised this afternoon, but they have left his brain like everything else. His only thought is: Ryoma is back and standing in their kitchen.

Karupin meows loudly.

“You’re drinking my Ponta,” Ryoma finally says and Tezuka answers “Yes.” He holds the can out for Ryoma, who hesitates at first, but steps forward eventually and takes it out of Tezuka’s hand. He doesn’t make their fingers brush.

Ryoma gulps the Ponta down. “It’s cold,” he says and Tezuka looks at him. “I like it better when it’s cold,” he continues and Tezuka says “I know”, which makes Ryoma’s head snap up and his eyes go wide.

“Yuuta came home, so Fuji-senpai threw me out,” he mumbles and spins the Ponta in his hand. Before he can say anything else, Tezuka sits Karupin on the floor and stands before Ryoma, looking down on him. “I’m glad you’re back,” he says.

Ryoma averts his eyes and Tezuka wants to force them back on him. Being their focus is something he has gotten used to in the last few years.

“Fuji-senpai told me you’ve been playing matches with that – monkey king for a long time now,” Ryoma snarls the last couple of words.

“Yes. I’m sorry,” Tezuka says. “I should have told you.”

“Why are you playing with him anyway? You can play with me anytime you want,” Ryoma mumbles and he sounds twelve again. “But you haven’t done that in like, forever.”

“I’m sorry, Ryoma,” Tezuka says again, but Ryoma doesn’t look up.

“Fuji-senpai has also told me that you play matches with … him, because you want to stay in form.”

And now Tezuka fears he knows where this is going and so he reaches out and touches Ryoma’s shoulder lightly, afraid Ryoma will move away.

But Ryoma looks up again and it feels as if he is searching Tezuka’s face wonderingly. He takes a breath. “Why? Do you think I will leave, as soon as I’m better than you in tennis?”

There’s a pause in which Tezuka doesn’t dare move a muscle.

He wants to say “You’ve done so before”, but can’t. His hand on Ryoma’s shoulder tightens. “I don’t know,” he answers.

“I was twelve back then,” Ryoma says. “There is something more important than tennis in my life right now,” and when Tezuka doesn’t react, he shrugs and starts to turn away. But right at that moment, at the sight of Ryoma turning away from him again, everything in Tezuka seems to click into place at once, and this realization makes him choke on his breath and he reaches out and stops Ryoma, pulls him against his body, muffling the “Che” against his chest and he says “I’m sorry,” over and over again. He says it against Ryoma’s cheeks, his neck, his hair, ears and mouth and Ryoma throws his arms around Tezuka, holding onto him tightly, whispering “Buchou” and it sends chills down Tezuka’s spine.

-

The sun is shining brightly outside, when Tezuka lets his fingers ghost over the bruised, already purple skin on Ryoma’s back.

Karupin trots into the bedroom, jumps on the bed and stretches lazily beside Ryoma, nudging his thigh with his head.

“Che,” Ryoma mutters. “You haven’t even missed me properly. Cuddling with Buchou behind my back.”

But he is smiling as he pulls Karupin between himself and Tezuka.

Fic: Pushing Forward

2006-05-31T15:51:17Z

Title: Pushing Forward
Author: die_gute_seite
Pairing: Tezuka/Ryoma
Words: 1500
Rating: PG
Summary: Tezuka and Ryoma together at a rock concert.
A/N: I went to see The Flames the other day and thought that I really wanted to see Ryoma and Tezuka in a situation like that.

This is unbeta’d and that’s bad, because I am German and there may be words, collocations or grammatical structures that don’t exist and I am really sorry for that, but I’m absolutely new to the fandom and just don’t have a Beta. Also, I didn’t want to randomly ask and bother someone.

Pushing Forward

Ryoma is sweating. He can feel his shirt clinging to his chest, his fringe sticking to his forehead and big drops of sweat running down his spine, settling on the waistband of his trousers, soaking it.

Also, Ryoma’s back is only millimetres away from Tezuka-Buchou’s front, both of them standing in the middle of Tokyo’s biggest concert hall, both staring straight ahead. They are surrounded by thousands of people who will go crazy, as soon as Ryoma’s favourite Band appears on stage.

Ryoma doesn’t understand how he ended up here with Buchou of all people. His mother had given him two tickets for the concert for his fifteenth birthday, just after they had come back from America, because she knew how much Ryoma liked to listen to this kind of music. Naturally, he refused to take his father, no matter how much the old man begged and whined, and asked Momo-senpai instead, who agreed enthusiastically, immediately calling Kaidoh-senpai to show off. (Kaidoh-senpai stopped talking to Ryoma at once and from that moment on only fffsshed in that annoying way, whenever Ryoma was in the general vicinity.)

But then Momo-senpai told Ryoma that he had to attend some stupid family birthday party and couldn’t go and asked if it was okay to give the ticket to Fuji-senpai. Ryoma didn’t mind all that much, because Fuji-senpai was a lot more fun than, for example, Oishi-senpai, who would probably die of worry because of the many people and the possibility of a mass panic attack. He was also way better than Inui-senpai, because…well. Way better.

But then Fuji-senpai called and smiled into the receiver that, actually, he didn’t really like rock music and that he preferred listening to Yuuta singing under the shower and that he had given his ticket to Tezuka. Ryoma swallowed hard.

Since then he hadn’t been able to think about anything else than the fact that he was going to go on a concert with Tezuka-Buchou.

A concert. With Buchou. Together. Like a date.

Judging from his nervousness right before the time they had arranged to meet (They hadn’t really arranged something per se. Buchou had come to him after practice the day before and said “About the concert. We can meet there…at…” and that had been it.), one could have assumed Ryoma was going to go on a date, at least his father didn't miss to point that out. Ryoma answered “Che” and left on time. He has to admit, though, that picking out the right clothes had taken most of his afternoon.

Tezuka-Buchou had already been waiting for him and he greeted Ryoma with a nod. They went by underground and joined the end of the queue in front of the hall. When they had entered and found a place to stand, Ryoma thought their position was pretty good. He could see, there was space and not too many crazy people around, that could give Buchou the wrong impression of what fans of Ryoma’s favourite Band are like. But then more and more and more people came and crowded around them, pushing, jostling, and bumping against Buchou and himself.

Under normal circumstances Ryoma wouldn’t mind, because that is what rock concerts are like, but now he is almost pressed against Tezuka and they haven’t talked once since they arrived here. He is aware of every single movement Buchou makes, he can even feel him breathing on top of his head, and Ryoma is equally as conscious of his own motions. He knows that if he takes half a step backwards he’ll feel everything of Buchou on his own body, but he doesn’t know why that thought, that knowledge, excites him so much that every nerve of his body is lit and tingles in anticipation.

Then the lights go out and there’s a roar of applause, which extinguishes the moment the opening act actually starts to play their songs.

“Mada mada da ne,” Ryoma mutters and thinks he hears a snort behind him (he can feel it, too), when suddenly someone from the front is stumbling into him, knocking him right into Tezuka-Buchou’s chest. Strong hands immediately grab his upper arms, steadying him and Ryoma doesn’t dare move, doesn’t dare breath, because Buchou’s chest is soft and warm and he wants to savour that feeling of leaning against him, but then Tezuka takes a tiny step back, bends down and now his breath is tickling Ryoma’s neck.

“Are you alright?”

Ryoma nods, because he doesn’t trust his voice and Tezuka says “Don’t get careless.” and his voice sounds unfamiliar. Rough and low and Ryoma thinks that he wouldn’t have minded staying that way.

The strange feeling in his stomach (it is as if something is aching and pulling) is still there, when the terrible band finally leaves and Ryoma’s favourite Band appears on stage and he is momentarily distracted, because they start the concert by playing his favourite song. He is not aware of the crowd moving forward and that the little space he had slowly shrinks until he feels that he is pressed against the person in front of him and that Buchou is pressed against him from behind, that there is nothing between them now but clothes and when this realisation hits him, Ryoma shudders hard. Tezuka stirs behind him and Ryoma is mortified.

He is mortified, because he doesn’t know why his body reacts that way to Buchou, why his body reacts at all. And Buchou knows because there’s just no way he could have not felt that shudder. Ryoma spends the next minutes trying to make as much room between him and Tezuka as possible, constantly pushing against the person in front of him, desperate to keep Buchou from realising to how much this proximity is affecting him. He wonders if the same thing is happening to Buchou. But it can't be. Because if it is, why isn't Tezuka just doing something?

Ryoma is pushed back again, but Buchou must have taken a step back, too, because they aren’t touching and Ryoma feels much freer again. He can even swing a bit with the rhythm of the song, back and forth, like Kamio does, when he is listening to music on his iPod. It is when there are suddenly hands on his hips, a touch so light that it feels as if the fingers are lingering above, that Ryoma sucks in a sharp breath and stops dead. Immediately, the hands are gone, but Ryoma's face feels hot and his breathing has sped up.

He doesn’t dare look at Tezuka.

Buchou’s hands on him have felt nice and he wants them back and he keeps thinking about ways to achieve just that, when there is yet another push from behind and Tezuka’s arms sway forward. Just a bit, but it is enough for Ryoma to grab the hands and place them on either side of his hips again and when he wants to remove his own from on top of Tezuka’s, they are held back, fingers intertwine with his and Tezuka moves Ryoma closer to him.

They don't talk and stare straight ahead.

Ryoma thinks that this should probably feel awkward. This is Buchou and they are practically cuddling, cuddling in public. But it really doesn’t. Actually, it feels quite nice, nicer than anything else Ryoma has ever felt. It feels better than drinking Ponta after a hard match and better than winning against his father in tennis. It feels so good that Ryoma allows himself to turn his head slightly upwards and surreptitiously examine Tezuka.

He is watching the band's performance and there doesn’t seem to be anything special about his expression. Ryoma, however, likes to imagine that there is a smile lingering on his lips, around his mouth, something only he himself can produce onto Tezuka-Buchou’s face.

They stay like this and while it is very a very nice feeling indeed, Ryoma thinks that somehow it is not enough. He wants to feel more of Buchou, wants to be nearer to him than this, but everything is a bit like tennis, even that, and he has hit the ball. Now it's Tezuka's turn again.

When Ryoma's favourite band announces that they are going to play their last song, Buchou's hands leave Ryoma’s hip and arms come around his waist instead, hugging him tightly, pulling him close and Ryoma knows then that he has lost this game, because he is already sucked into the Tezuka Zone and once you are, there's no way out and so he does the only thing he can think of at that moment. He turns in Tezuka’s embrace, grabs the taller boy’s shirt, pulls him down and presses his lips against Tezuka’s.

He hasn’t done anything like this before and he’s frustrated, because his nose keeps bumping into Tezuka’s and the kiss is sloppy, but then Tezuka brings his hands up to Ryoma’s face, adjusting it, and suddenly it feels just right, kissing Buchou at a concert.

And although Ryoma is dimly aware of lights going on and people moving around them, neither of the two breaks the kiss. They don't even realise Fuji- and Momo-senpai passing them, smirking at each other.

Later that night, Tezuka looks down at Ryoma and says: "Let's go home, Echizen."

And Ryoma replies "Yes, Buchou" and grins. Life has just got so much more exciting.

(This is for K, who won't read this, because I don't think she knows that LJ or PoT even exist. I love her anyway :D)