Title: Returning Home
Fandom: Prince of Tennis.
Pairing/s: Tezuka/Ryoma.
Disclaimer & Rating: Prince of Tennis is the intellectual property of Takeshi Konomi. PG.
Summary: Ten years later, the two of them are renting in the old neighbourhood. A small glimpse into their life together.
A/N: It's been ages since I've written TezRyo and it's been such cool, lazy weather - perfect for something short and sweet.
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From the kitchen, Tezuka heard the keys clatter into the front door lock, and paused his reading, placing a finger to mark his spot. It wasn't the plumber calling and there wasn't anyone else who had a set to get in. Tezuka frowned slightly and set down his novel. He hadn't expected Echizen back for at least five more hours. Had he changed his mind or were the local courts closed? Looking down the corridor, he spotted Ryoma's feet disappear up the staircase. His housemate had left his tennis bag at the door. Tezuka's eyebrows lifted slightly. Not the best of signs.
A few minutes later, Tezuka found himself climbing the wood steps to the second floor with a can of Ponta. When Ryoma didn't even bother grunting at his knock, he walked into their temporary bedroom. One glance showed it was still messy from this morning, but his main concern was his inert boyfriend. Finding Echizen on the bed, his shoes kicked off and head buried in a heap of pillows, Tezuka frowned. Finding a spare spot, he sat on the mattress and leant back into the warmth of Echizen's blanket covered body. He got a groan in response.
"Buchou, they ambushed me." Nothing else but the paparazzi managed to bring out that particular tone of disgust in Ryoma's voice. "And when they scared away my opponent, they started asking about you." He heard a light scoff. "As if they think I'm going to tell them anything that's none of their business."
"I glad they didn't follow you back here." Tezuka said, nudging Ryoma, trying to get him to roll over. All he got was a grunt back.
"They tried, until I gave them the slip on the train."
Tezuka could well imagine Ryoma pulling his infamous cap off and sliding into a carriage just as the electronic doors closed. He was tempted to chuckle, but instead thought of something better and rested the Ponta can he was carrying on Ryoma's exposed neck. Tezuka got a cold shudder in reply.
"It's Ponta from the fridge." He gave the tiniest, innocent smile when one eye emerged to see if he was lying. He met Ryoma's gaze with some amusement. The young man reached for it, brushing their fingers together when he took the can from Tezuka. Lazily, Ryoma half sat up to open it and take a few sips, a pleased hum curling out.
"Thanks Buchou." Then he scowled over the rim of the cold can, remembering more grievances. "They were even asking me if I was going to see that old man since we were nearby." Tezuka looked at him purposefully. That was exactly why they'd rented this house so close to their old Seigaku haunting grounds. It'd been too long since they'd come back to Japan, too long since they'd come home. Ryoma just scowled at him, draining the last of his drink.
"You'll have to see him soon. Putting it off isn't going to do anything about those nightmares." The dreams had been putting a strain on both of them lately. They weren't so much of the dangerous, thrashing variety, but Tezuka had woke up plenty of nights to Echizen's tense figure sitting the edge of the bed, his teeth gritted and irritable the next day. Even now, Ryoma had gone stiff, his eyes guarded.
Sensing they'd fight uselessly about it again, he changed the subject. "Ryuuzaki called today, while you were out." He reached a hand over to that face, cupping the curve of the chin. "She wanted to know if you would go to see the new kids they've got at Seigaku." The touch seemed to relax Ryoma a fraction and at his words, Tezuka could sense the normal arrogance that marked Ryoma returning. It was familiar ground, and the tenseness in his shoulders that he didn't even realise was building slipped away.
"I bet none of them are as good as we were." Ryoma placed the empty can on the bedside chest, and his grasp free, drew Tezuka's hand from his face, twining their fingers together. There was a soft, possessive look in those green eyes that was very familiar. Grinning, Ryoma tugged Tezuka down, till they were both lying parallel, facing each other. "Maybe won't even make it to the nationals." He got a tiny smile for that cheeky remark, which Ryoma's finger traced, fascinated as always when the emotion appeared on his otherwise stoic partner.
"You never know," Tezuka's eyes danced. It tickled a bit, the sensation of calloused fingers exploring. Echizen just levelled him a wicked glance, more focused now on wriggling closer.
Guessing where this would probably lead, Tezuka took of his glasses to join the empty Ponta can. The second he was done, Ryoma closed in, fitting his mouth over Tezuka's soft lips. They shared a slow lazy kiss, eyes fluttering shut, Ryoma's breath puffing over Tezuka's cheeks, and took their taking time to enjoy it. It was something the two of them didn't get much time to do, between their hectic pro schedules. One of the reasons why they'd taken a holiday.
Feeling Echizen's kiss change into a self-satisfied smirk, Tezuka was the one who broke for air first.
"You're a bad influence." He tried to keep a disapproving frown on but Ryoma had heard him say it a thousand times, and it not longer seemed to work, if it ever did. Tugging the bed covers over their heads, the older man shifted til they fitted together perfectly. Taking this chance to nose Tezuka's neck, his tongue darting out to lave his senior's skin, Ryoma snorted in answer. "What would you do without me around, Buchou?"