Title: Before Midnight
Disclaimer: Yeah, not mine. And I don't know much about tennis either. At least not tennis involving actual physics, so take none of the following game seriously.
Pairing: TezuFuji
Rating: PG no matter what MG says...
Summary: Set while Tezuka's studying in Germany. Tezuka's birthday has been a pretty dull affair, but there's still time left.
A/N: I got home at 1am last night, but had to caffeinate myself to get home. So there I am, all bouncy and this fic pops into my head. I should be working on CC, but I couldn't sleep till I got this down. This happened on Tezuka's birthday last year too. Buchou yells at me till I listen.
As birthdays went, Tezuka had experienced worse. Out here, his overzealous father hadn't shown up at school to fill his locker with an explosive amount of balloons. Oishi wasn't here to plan him an irritatingly large surprise party and accidentally email Tezuka an invitation. Inui wasn't here to prepare any birthday versions of his latest juice. It was, all in all, more peaceful than any birthday he'd ever lived through in Japan. His parents called in the morning to wish him well, and his dorm-mates chipped in to buy him some "authentic" sushi that tasted a little like pieces of a tire soaked in sea water. The thought was nice, he supposed.
Now that everyone had left, though, Tezuka found himself sitting on his bed, feeling just the tiniest twinge of homesickness. Nothing big, not like when he'd first arrived, but just a little pull of melancholy. He opened the drawer he kept all of his letters from home in. Fuji and Oishi were the only ones who wrote him paper mail, and the former's stack was noticeably higher and usually illustrated. He hadn't received any birthday wishes from Fuji yet, but he wasn't hopeful enough to think the tensai forgot. Fuji'd find a way to embarrass him from Japan, even if it was a little late.
Still, he kind of wished Fuji'd managed the humiliation on time this year…
An urgent knock on the door. Tezuka frowned at it as he glanced at the hour. After eleven, the only reason to knock on his door was if one of his dorm-mates was drunk, and someone needed help carrying him to his room. Sighing, Tezuka stood up, fantasizing for an instant that it would be Fuji. In the fantasy, Fuji smiled a sweet "Happy Birthday" before flinging his arms, kissing him until he lost his balance and they toppled onto the bed.
In reality, Fuji shouted, "What took you so long?!", grabbed Tezuka's right arm, and dragged him pajama-clad down the hallway.
Tezuka was halfway down the second flight of stairs before he found his voice and remembered that he was, in fact, bigger than Fuji and thus able to make the other boy stop dragging him across campus. "Fuji, stop!" he ordered, when they reached the landing.
Fuji pulled harder. "If you don't hurry, you're not getting your present on time. I only have an hour left. Despite the size difference, Tezuka was having a hard time keeping Fuji rooted to the spot.
"Not until you tell me how you got here."
"By plane, as most people do."
"You couldn't afford a ticket." Tezuka had a strange image of Fuji mugging a stewardess, stealing her uniform, and sneaking onto a flight with nothing but a German phrasebook and a demonstration safety belt.
Fuji sighed dramatically. "I played Monopoly with Jirou."
Tezuka blinked.
"He plays with real money. It took me four days to win, but I held onto St. Charles Place. Get on the fuchsia and build up, that's the secret. Then I spent fourteen hours on a plane, two on a train, and got lost three times trying to find your school. And if we don't hurry, you're still not getting your present on time. So hurry up! With renewed effort that Tezuka couldn't hope to stop, Fuji resumed his sprint.
Outside, Tezuka tried another protest on the basis of his bare feet and pajamas, but the weather was still mild enough that Fuji refused to listen. Eventually, Tezuka registered that they were heading towards the school's tennis courts. Said courts were usually locked at this hour, but the door to one stood mysteriously open, the nets already set up, two tennis bags lying propped against the chain link fence.
Fuji let go of Tezuka's hand as soon as he pulled him inside the cage, racing to open the bag, and throwing two balls at once towards the flustered Tezuka who managed to catch neither.
"Fuji," Tezuka finally managed. "What is going on?"
"What does it look like?" Fuji threw another ball which Tezuka didn't even try to catch, just glared past sternly.
"It's nearly midnight. I'm in my pajamas. I have no shoes. And you seem to have broken into my school tennis courts which are several thousand miles and an ocean away from your school tennis courts. Explain yourself."
"Stop complaining. If you're willing to play tennis with a broken arm, you can manage without shoes for a couple of serves. Now catch this or we'll lose the wind." Another lobbed tennis ball which Tezuka caught with a sigh.
Fuji sprinted to the other side of the court. "At least I'm warmed up. And don't worry, you don't have to play a real game. But I need you to hit me a smash into the wind, okay? Then you can try to hit it back."
At the word "try," Tezuka's curiosity began to replace his confusion. He carefully served the ball, watched as Fuji lobbed it back, then smashed it down.
Fuji's eyes snapped open, every muscle tensing, and Tezuka found it very difficult to watch the ball. The move looked a little like the Higuma Otoshii, but executed with the Hakugei's precision. The ball soared back up, at which point Fuji spun around and hit it again, adding a topspin and cutting its arc. Tezuka knew what would happen then as well as that he didn't have a prayer of hitting it back. The ball zoomed out of his reach. He could have gotten there in time to catch the rebound… if there'd been a rebound. But the ball spun for an instant on the white line before skidding neatly back towards the net.
Tezuka stopped watching the ball before it got there though. Watching Fuji was far more enlightening at that point. As the move finished, the irritation and temper that had dominated Fuji's face dissipated in a pool of relief. He glanced at his watch, muscles in his face relaxing as he managed, "Happy Birthday, Kunimitsu."
Tezuka's speed at getting to the opposite side of the net would have shamed most of the dash specialists of the Kantou region. When Fuji's lips met his, his feet weren't so cold anymore. His eyes weren't so tired, and he didn't feel the slightest bit homesick.
After a few minutes, the chill started returning to his feet, and the two packed up the racquets, heading back towards the dorm. "It's probably illegal in any sort of formal tournament," Fuji admitted, leaning comfortably against Tezuka's side. "But I thought you'd like it. It's tentatively called the Higuma Zero-Shiki, but you can change it if you'd like."
"It's fine," Tezuka said, stepping a little more cautiously down the path this time. "How long are you staying?"
Fuji shrugged as they stepped back inside the building, moving quietly towards the stairwell. "A couple days if that's all right with you. I figured I'd be grounded for about a year per day I'm missing. This way, I can be ungrounded by the time we graduate."
Tezuka stopped. "You didn't tell your parents you were leaving?"
"I left a note."
Tezuka felt a heading coming on. It made him feel ridiculously nostalgic as he quickened his pace up the stairs towards his room.
"Sorry, Tezuka, but I didn't think the 'Bye, Mom and Dad. I just won some money off a Hyotei kid, so I'm on my way to visit my boyfriend in Germany' announcement would go over very well."
"Is that what your note said?"
"In slightly more diplomatic tones. Nee-san will calm them down for me."
Tezuka opened his door, which he hadn't managed to lock during his kidnapping. "You should call them now. It's not too early in Japan."
Fuji shut the door, staring at Tezuka with a raised eyebrow. "I have approximately three days of freedom left and it's still your birthday for 23 minutes. Do you really want to spend it scolding me and calling my parents?"
Tezuka looked at Fuji, skin flushed from the cold and the tennis, hair in wind-swept disarray, eyes brilliantly blue and focused. Sweeping an arm around Fuji's waist, the former captain decided the phone call could wait until the morning.