Yay, my fist Pot fic! I recently realized my love for the FujixTaka pairing and decided, "Why not? I'll write them a one-shot. Kill some time, maybe jog my muse for my other fics." I wasn't expecting it to be so much fun. I started a couple of days ago and I wasn't really feeling it, but then, Woosh!, all of it's suddenly on the paper and I'm sitting here trying to catch my breath and wondering what in the world just happened.
Warnings: I've once again gotten stuck on the fence between friendship and romance. So, depending on your interpretation (because I'm not even sure of what it's supposed to be), this could contain slight, mild, yaoi. Otherwise, this is one of my cleanest fics.
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to Takeshi Konomi.
Ache
Kawamura sat, hunched over, with his hands on his knees, the thin and unforgiving slats of the park bench creating an uncomfortable ache in his lower back. He shifted, especially the gap created by the one broken slat, right in the middle of the seat. He flicked his eyes to the small round container of sushi he had made before he left home to come here. The genius of Seigaku, Fuji, had called him not an hour ago with simple, yet specific, instructions for him.
"Meet me at the broken bench in the park with enough sushi for two."
That was all the genius had said and, although confused, Kawamura was willing to oblige. He sighed and moved to lazily rest his cheek in the palm of his hand. He was curious as to why the sandy brunette would want to see him at ten at night, in such a secluded place, with sushi, when he was more than sure that they both had so many better things to do in preparation for their fast approaching freshman year of high school. But, he admitted to himself, the tennis player had always had a bit of madness in his methods.
"Mn, that you for meeting me here Taka," a soft, lilting voice sounded. Taka sat up, suppressing a wince from the pressure in his back, and faced his company. Fuji had sat down next to him, the container of sushi now in his lap. Taka watched intently as the genius's slim fingers slipped under the lid and popped it off, tucking it underneath the box in one swift movement. His eyes were barely able to register the movement of his partner's hand as it deftly plucked a small bit of food, wasabi, of course, from the bunch and placed it into its owner's mouth.
Fuji slowed, and Taka was able to see how his already closed eyes curved, in tandem with the edges of his thin lips, in delight. He watched as the brunette chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, and swallowed. Fuji sat, unmoving, for several more seconds before his turned to face the sushi maker, a delicate smile gracing his features.
"That was absolutely delicious. Did you do anything different?" He asked. Taka felt himself blush lightly at the compliment and he shook his head.
"I've just been practicing a lot more lately." He said softly. Fuji nodded in understanding and bit into another piece, this time one of the few that Taka had decided to experiment with, with a small dab of peanut butter in the center. He face once again expressed delight and Taka wasn't totally sure if he heard the genius produce a small hum.
"It's been paying off. I can tell." Fuji said, and Taka could hear how the peanut butter slightly thickened his soft voice. Fuji must have noticed as well, because he made a long swallow before he continued.
"How has the sushi chef training been for you? Do you like it?" Taka exhaled lightly as he thought, considering all that he wanted to say.
"I like it a lot." He said, finally settling on the simplest answer. Fuji's eyes opened slightly, and Taka wondered that, if a color were strong enough, if one could actually feel it. Taka certainly thought he could feel the cold blueness of the genius's eyes as they bore into his cheek. The stare was so intense that Taka had had to turn away, for fear that, if he were to meet that luminous gaze with his own brown eyes, he would be either lost in or destroyed by it. He imagined if the brunette usually kept his eyes closed for that very reason.
Fuji eventually relented and closed his eyes, which to Taka, felt as if he had just turned off an exceedingly bright light. Taka chanced a look to his companion out of the corner of his vision and saw him select another piece of experimental sushi, one he recognized as containing mostly banana and soy sauce. He could hear the brunette exhale deeply with an almost inaudible moan. Taka found himself smiling a little at the unsaid appreciation. Fuji swallowed and savored the after taste a while longer before saying:
"But that's not all there is to it." Taka felt the corners of his mouth pull down slightly. Of course Fuji wasn't going to give up on this subject so easily. At the same time, his companion had held the container of food out to him and Taka had declined with a movement of his hand. Taka leaned back against the bench, the cramping in his back intensifying, and raised his chin to look at the starry sky, which was only partially obscured by the nearby streetlamps. Fuji scooted closer to him, their legs now touching, and copied the motion, also looking up at the constellations.
"I do really like the sushi training. I know it's what I want to do with my life." He heard Fuji pop another piece of sushi into his mouth and he smelled a slight waft of his usual wasabi. "It's just that, it's not quite as fulfilling as I thought it would be." He admitted. In the last few months since he had officially dropped tennis, he had known this somewhere inside of him, but to finally say it aloud, to have someone other than himself know of it, seemed to make it an almost unbearable fact.
"Mn, I'm sorry to hear that. But, if it's any consolation, you really do have an incredible natural talent for it. To be honest, I asked you to bring some to satisfy my own craving." As if to emphasize the fact, he brought another one of his experiments, a combination of sardine and pear, to his lips, pausing to breathe its distinctive scent in deeply before taking it totally into his mouth. Taka had turned to watch him when the brunette was silent, only to find that Fuji was simply pondering the flavor. Taka watched as the genius's throat moved slightly as he adjusted his tongue inside of his mouth, breaking the food into pieces and examining each, one at a time. Fuji was eventually satisfied that he had taken in all that was to offer and swallowed slowly. Taka watched the small undulation the brunette's throat made as the food made its way down.
Fuji tilted his head down and to the side so that it rested on Taka's shoulder. Taka stiffened as the unexpected contact, but the genius didn't seem bothered much by his discomfort and threaded his arm behind and around the taller blonde's, squeezing it flush against his side.
"That's why you asked me to meet you here?" Taka asked after clearing his throat discreetly. Fuji shook his head slightly and Taka could feel his sand colored hair tickle the side of his neck.
"No, I wanted to ask you an important question." The genius explained, "I wanted to ask you if I could borrow your tennis racket during the season. Tennis hasn't been the same without you there. It's so quiet," Taka felt his cheeks flush a bit at that comment. "And I thought that maybe, if I had something of yours, it would be like you were with us again." Taka felt the brunette's hand curl a little tighter around him arm, "I speak for everybody when I say we miss you."
Taka was surprised to hear what his companion was saying. He never would have imagined that his absence would have much of an effect on the team. But, he guessed, it did make some sense. He had spent two years as a regular, and he felt that he could call every one of his teammates his best friend. What didn't make sense though, was who was saying it. He would have taken such a confession in stride if it were coming from Eiji, or Momo, or maybe even Oishi if he were in one of his moods, the guys who weren't really afraid to admit their feelings. But it was Fuji, the teammate no one has ever been able to read, who was telling him this. It was Fuji, the player who conjured more feelings of fear than familiarity, who was laying his head on his shoulder, with his hair a slight but ever present tickle at the side of his neck. It was Fuji, the genius who, until recently, played tennis only for the thrill of breaking down his opponent's defenses and watching them crumble, who was clinging to his arm and wrapping his hand tightly in both of his own.
Taka sighed deeply and leaned his head to lie on top of Fuji's, eliciting a small hum of surprise.
"I would really like if you would take my racket to nationals with you."
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