Ryoma was an idiot.
He hadn't meant to say it, he really hadn't. He'd planned on getting through the horrific interview his father had set up with the lad's mag with saying as little as he possibly could.
It had started off okay, he'd answered a few questions about his training regime and winning various tournaments and he'd thought that it might not be so bad if they just stuck to tennis.
And then the interviewer had moved onto his wife.
Ryoma was very aware of Tezuka Mitsuko was considered to be one of the hottest sportswomen in the world-which Ryoma knew to be true, he had married her and he certainly wasn't blind- but he also knew how uncomfortable that made Tezuka.
She wanted to be judged on her tennis ability not on her looks and yet the whole world seemed insistent on reminding her that she was now a sex symbol.
And the guy in front of Ryoma certainly thought of her more in terms of her body than her personality.
Ryoma had tried oh so hard to move the subject back on to tennis, but he had never been very good at conversations, especially with people he disliked and he was starting to hate the guy sat in front of him with his stupid hair and ugly t-shirt.
Surely the idiot could tell that Ryoma was getting annoyed with him talking about how 'hot' Tezuka was? Then, he'd asked the fateful question:
"What's it like sleeping with such a hottie?"
"I wouldn't know, I'm asleep," Ryoma had replied with a roll of his eyes. "We don't have sex."
He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but he had felt so irritated and angry that it had slipped passed his lips before he could stop it.
He'd had a split second of satisfaction at the look of incomprehension on the interviewer's face before he realised what he'd done. This would no doubt go viral.
"D-during tournaments or-"
"Ever," Ryoma cut him off.
There had been a long pause as the interviewer waited for Ryoma to elaborate, but Ryoma wasn't going to make it that easy for him. He glared at him, daring to ask 'why not?'
"Is there any reason?" the guy asked, trying not to be too obvious although his interest was palpable.
"I don't like sex," Ryoma lied. It was actually Tezuka who didn't like sex, but Ryoma refused to give this idiot any more reasons to think less of his wife.
The rest of the interview was mercifully short. Ryoma refused to say anything more about his lack of a sex life and the guy seemed to want to get it over and done with so he could release this revelation to the world.
Ryoma was more than happy to get home and find Tezuka sat on the sofa, reading and with Karupin in her lap.
"How did it go?" Tezuka asked.
Ryoma sighed, "I told him we don't have sex. But I said that I don't like sex, I didn't want to out you." It wasn't the right word, but Ryoma didn't know what else to use.
Tezuka closed her book, gently put it down on the coffee table, shifted Karupin off and rose to her feet. She wrapped her arms around Ryoma and hugged him tight.
"I wouldn't have minded," she said as Ryoma clung to her and he buried his head into the join between her neck and shoulder.
"It's not my place," Ryoma shrugged, "and it's no ones business! I shouldn't have said it, I was just so angry."
"It's fine," Tezuka assured him, "it's not negative publicity."
"My dad's going to be insufferable," Ryoma grumbled. "How dare you not satisfy your wife! I didn't raise you to be like this!" he said in a stunningly accurate imitation of his father.
"You satisfy me in all the ways that are important," Tezuka told him, kissing the top of his head.
"So do you, Mitsuko," Ryoma replied, kissing her neck. He didn't care that he couldn't have sex with his wife, the rest -the tennis and the understanding and the love- was more than enough. Sex seemed so superficial compared to playing tennis against her or lying in bed together, listening to each other breath.
"Let's make dinner together," Tezuka said, giving Ryoma one last squeeze and letting him go. Somewhat reluctantly, Ryoma let go of her thick jumper and followed her obediently to the kitchen.
"You're my favourite wife," Ryoma said cheekily as Tezuka put on her 'I'd rather be playing tennis' apron.
"I should hope so," Tezuka replied. "Now, chop the onions."