A/N: Initially written for yaoichallenge on LJ. Of course, I don't own the characters.
Chokoreeto
As the library bell chimed its ten-minute warning, Tezuka finally closed the tome from which he'd been reading. He wasn't finished, not by any means, but he felt he'd made enough progress to merit staying until seven yet again. It wasn't as though there was anyone waiting for him at home to complain that he was late. The worst he'd get was a missed call.
Leaning back in his seat, he stretched out the kinks that came from sitting hunched over such documents day-in, day-out. The theories about how the constitution had been constructed had always fascinated him, but the views he'd gotten from western study, during his time abroad, were what had brought him home again. No one within Japan, or without, had really tried to mesh an objective interpretation of the Occupation with an understanding of Japanese culture before. This would be his mark on academia, and that gave him a warm feeling like no other.
Or, at least, almost no other.
It was with that thought that he slid back his chair, picking up his bag to pack away his pens and notepads. It was at least a week since he'd last been, and despite attempting to convince himself that he wouldn't return again… He couldn't resist. The chocolate shop felt like a naughty secret sometimes, and, in a way, it was since he hadn't shared it with anyone else he knew. He supposed that he probably should have, with friends like Momoshiro and Kikumaru, but he could never quite bring himself to invite their invasion of what was, for the most part, a tranquil haven.
It was a flimsy excuse at best if he was honest with himself, because he knew he didn't even want to share with the calmest and most unobtrusive of his friends. He was certain because he'd started to mention it to Kawamura once, but somehow turned himself around in the middle so the words never came out quite right. Tezuka just liked having the secret all to himself. He could pretend…
No, he could pretend nothing of the kind. He was quite simply going to act like that had never happened. And it was that thought he kept firmly in mind as he emerged into the February cold.
It didn't help that he'd left his gloves behind in his haste that morning, leaving him feeling the chill even more keenly than usual. On the other hand, it made him all the more eager to reach his destination and wrap his hands around a hot mug until they stung from the heat. It was a good thought to concentrate on so that he didn't think about anything else. Between that and the need to navigate the bustle of the streets of Tokyo, Tezuka was well set for keeping his mind occupied during his walk.
The journey wasn't long, but the crowds of peculiarly clad, far-too-modern individuals that littered his path always rankled. It sometimes felt like manners were becoming a part of history as well, and Tezuka had long been certain that personal space was as extinct as the dinosaurs. Even tucking his arms into his body, his bag bumping against the top of his thigh where he'd swung the satchel forwards to evade pickpockets, he inevitably ended up with all manner of person brushing up against him. He wasn't sure if it would have been better or worse had it been done on purpose, because the oblivious nature of it all somehow voided the logic behind his being annoyed.
When he finally turned off the main road, it was inevitably a blessed relief. The tension would bleed from him and he'd both slow down, relaxing his gait, and speed up for the lack of traffic. It was there, he supposed, that his visits really began, still five minutes away.
Tezuka had been lost the first time he found the chocolate shop, down a side road that had led off yet another side road and searching for a café to meet Oishi and Kikumaru for lunch. There were times when remembering reminded him of Alice and the rabbit hole.
He never had made it to his lunch.
"Hello?" Tezuka'd called as he slipped into the store front, the tinkle of a bell over his head rendering his announcement superfluous.
It was only afterwards, once he'd closed the door against the wintry November weather, that he'd realised there was nobody in the front of the store at all – not customers nor staff – so it couldn't possibly be the right one. It had been too late for him to back out again however, a figure emerging from a doorway behind the counter to greet him. His embarrassment had momentarily frozen him in place.
It had been a surprisingly nice looking store, quality even for a high street if Tezuka was completely honest with himself – and he tended to be if it didn't involve the proprietor or said proprietor's partner. The front had been made over in a western sixties style. The walls were covered with art of popular singers and pictures of cars and motorbikes while the floor was chequered linoleum. Stools lined the counter front, private booths ran along one wall, and tall, round tables were stationed by the windows… yet not one seat was occupied. It was only after a second bemused glance to assure himself there really was a complete lack of customers that he'd looked to the man behind the counter.
His first impression of Echizen Ryoma had been that the man was gorgeous. He was disinterested and aloof, but absolutely stunning in that 'just-shagged' sort of way. He'd made Tezuka think of sex without even levelling one of those challenging looks that Tezuka came to love later. It was upon seeing Echizen for the first time that Tezuka finally came to appreciate what was meant when hair was described as 'artfully tousled' or 'begging to be touched', and lips were described as 'pouty' and 'entirely kissable'.
"Yeah?" Echizen had asked him, hands tucked in the pockets of his faded jeans. Those and a black tee, that was all it was, and Tezuka couldn't understand casual looking so good. He'd almost forgotten he was meant to be finding his way to a lunch date. In the weeks that followed, Echizen's strange ability to sidetrack Tezuka from his immediate concerns by simply appearing would strike again and again.
"If you might help me, I was looking for directions," Tezuka had admitted after a moment of embarrassing silence wherein he'd failed to come up with any alternative to stating the blunt truth.
Echizen had raised an eyebrow, "We don't sell directions here." That had been all he'd said before he turned his back on Tezuka to walk out of the store into the backrooms.
Tezuka had been too surprised to say anything immediately. There was a level on which he'd expected rudeness because Echizen had had that sort of look about him, but to simply walk off without offering any aid to someone who'd been polite and admitted to being lost. There had been only one option.
"Wait!" Tezuka had called out instinctively, not knowing where he'd go if Echizen couldn't be convinced to help him.
Echizen had stopped, practically through the doorway, and said without turning around, "You'd like to buy something?"
"No, I—what do you sell?" Tezuka had felt like he was being tested and failing miserably, particularly when one look at the counter could've answered the question. One inhale could have answered the question for that matter. Tezuka'd been set off balance however, not used to someone else holding all the cards in any of his dealings. It was a long time since he'd been a student, or so it felt, and these days his only boss was himself.
Echizen made a sound suspiciously like a snort. "Chocolate, what do you think?"
"Is it any good?" Tezuka'd enquired as he regained his footing a little, refusing to be left a babbling fool. A hint of a challenge had entered his voice as well, which centred him and levelled the playing field in some small sense.
It had been the right thing to say, forcing Echizen to turn around. His golden gaze had held no doubt whatsoever, mouth smirking and arms folded across his chest as he slouched and his hit jutting out. "Of course," he'd asserted. "You'll love it."
"Prove it," Tezuka had demanded, taking another step forward and raising his chin a little to look down on Echizen. He needn't have, really, because Echizen was appallingly short, but somehow the man's ego had required it despite Tezuka's superior height.
Suffice to say that Echizen had proven it and then some, leaving Tezuka with an addiction of which he doubted he'd ever fully rid himself. Somehow, the chocolate in Echizen's store tasted almost magical. So he'd gone back. Over and over, he'd gone back, just as he was doing now in hurrying down the side street toward the dingy store front.
On either side of him the blocks of flats towered high in the air, claustrophobic in the way they seemed to arch in toward each other and block out the sky. Sometimes Tezuka loved Tokyo, but more often than not he merely valued the library and eagerly awaited the weekends when he could escape to the mountains.
His phone ringing startled him more than he cared to admit. For the first time that day he found himself glad he had no gloves as he fumbled for it. "Hello?"
"Tezuka," greeted a familiar voice. "It's Kawamura."
Quite possibly the last person Tezuka might have expected to hear from, he hadn't even been aware Kawamura had got his phone number. "Kawamura," he acknowledged, not entirely certain how to proceed.
"I was-ah, well, you see, I've been, well..." Kawamura stuttered.
Tezuka remained silent. He was familiar with Kawamura's stuttering, though not over the phone. It was also usually mitigated when the man was concentrating on preparing food, which he inevitably was when Tezuka stopped off at the sushi restaurant.
"Tezuka?" Kawamura asked after a moment, despite not actually having said anything understandable that would merit prompting a reply as far as Tezuka could tell.
"Yes?" he enquired after a pause, one in which he realised that silence on the phone probably didn't work quite so well as waiting for Kawamura to work himself out in person.
"Ah," said Kawamura, as though he was relieved that Tezuka was still there. Collecting himself, he got to the point and asked, "Might you be free to stop by sometime soon?"
Tezuka blinked. It wasn't totally out of the realm of possibility for Kawamura to invite him round, but it wasn't something he expected to happen either. Usually he just ended up stopping in on his way home from the library when he didn't really feel like cooking for himself. "Of course," he answered truthfully, not voicing his curiosity over what might be the matter.
"It—it should be quiet on Thursday," Kawamura informed him.
Tezuka raised an eyebrow and would have been quite tempted to regard his phone quizzically had he not known exactly how stupid it would look. He was far better off interacting in person he realised, glancing up at the entrance to the chocolate shop absently as he agreed, "Thursday."
"I—thank you," Kawamura enthused. "Thursday. Have a good day, Tezuka."
"And you," Tezuka offered before the line went dead leaving him in no small amount puzzled. Even for Kawamura, that had been overly nervous. Tezuka hoped Kawamura wasn't intending to ask his advice on anything; there were far better options among their friends to whom Kawamura might turn. Admittedly, a stranger could be a better option than Tezuka most of the time.
"Are you just going to stand out there?" Echizen's voice interrupted his thoughts, making him glance up from his phone to see the man standing in the newly open doorway. The sight of him reminded Tezuka of Atobe, for how could he not think of what had occurred when faced with the man's gorgeous lover? Echizen was taken, however attractive Tezuka had found him at first glance, and finding that out had been quite an event of itself.
From the very first visit, Tezuka had been granted privileges. Of course, he rarely saw anyone else in the store to really be certain of how special his privileges were, but he certainly never saw anyone else in the little backroom to which Echizen always invited him. It was a stark contrast to the sixties style of the front of the store, and it decorated like a sultan's boudoir if it was decorated like anything. There were low, wide, comfortable, dark-wood chairs circling a table of the same that was draped with a rich looking cloth. The whole room was overwhelmingly rich and opulent, from the basic paintwork and rugs over the floorboards to the ornaments and tapestries adorning the walls. It was the type of room inside which one expected to smell incense, but Tezuka never had – he only ever smelled chocolate in that room, and the more often he visited, the further into the outer store the smell seemed to permeate until it called to him from the street.
Across the room there had always been a divan that had never made a great deal of sense to Tezuka's mind. The chairs had seemed odd until he'd tasted his first chocolate and simply sunk into the depths of one too, however. That day, as he discovered quite how taken Echizen was, he also discovered the reason for a divan and the abrupt contrast in decoration compared to the store front without.
It had been Tezuka's sixth visit, the first time he'd gone in the evening after the library closed at seven. Tezuka had never considered that Echizen would keep his little store open so late. Not until Echizen had told him as much when he'd suggested that he might not see Echizen again due to work. The store would be open in the evenings, Echizen had said simply, his manner entirely offhand.
It had no doubt been obvious how Tezuka had felt and perhaps, he had found himself reasoning later, that was why Echizen had suggested the evening. That sixth visit, he'd made his way through the store into the backroom as usual only to find it occupied. And Atobe did occupy the entire room as he stretched out elegantly on the divan; it was as if the sultan had returned to his boudoir at last.
"Tezuka," Atobe had greeted him, knowing and smug as his assessing gaze travelled Tezuka's frame. "It's about time I had a face to accompany the name, ahn?"
Tezuka had merely taken a deep calming breath, releasing his tension with the exhale as he forced himself to relax no matter how scrutinised he felt. "I don't believe we've made an acquaintance," Tezuka had confessed, albeit rather primly. He could admit that now. At the time he hadn't known who Atobe was, and remaining polite had seemed the ideal option.
Atobe had laughed, stretching in such a way that they both knew Tezuka couldn't help looking. Atobe was every bit as good looking as Echizen, better perhaps, because he knew and flaunted it.
"Brat!" Atobe had called, before Tezuka had come to know it was an endearment between the two. "Your pretty librarian is here!"
If Tezuka had felt lost upon first seeing Atobe, he had felt still more lost upon Atobe's strange introduction of him. Tezuka was not then nor now, nor had he ever previously been, a librarian. His brows drew together, knit with irritation as he turned to glance through the door to the kitchen – the direction to which Atobe had been calling.
Echizen was emerging with a cup of chocolate in his hand which he passed to Tezuka, a tiny smile fleeing across his lips as he met Tezuka's eyes, before sauntering on toward the divan. Tezuka had reflected, as he watched Echizen slink by, that he really ought to have expected Echizen to be 'brat'. That thought had still failed to prepare him for what Echizen said next.
"An academic, monkey-king, my pretty academic," Echizen had corrected. Tezuka had felt some small amount of annoyance at the notion he belonged to anyone. Then Echizen had joined Atobe on the divan, straddling the man's legs as he leant down to give him a kiss, and Tezuka had almost forgotten the beverage he'd been given.
Atobe's hand squeezing Echizen's ass had left no doubt of the relationship between the two of them. That alone would have ensured Tezuka's blush as he tried to find somewhere else to look, but then Atobe had seen fit to make it ten times worse. "You had better be willing to share."
Atobe had made for an interesting first impression.
"Echizen," Tezuka greeted, somewhat belatedly since he'd already stared at him for a long moment. He slid the phone back into his pocket, fumbling a little with his increasingly numb fingers.
Echizen was standing back with the door held wide when Tezuka looked again, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to move to step inside. "How are you?" he asked instead, awkward.
Echizen rolled his eyes and ignored the question. "Get in," he ordered. "It's freezing."
Given the excuse, relieved of the responsibility for whatever actions might ensue, Tezuka moved past Echizen into the warm, breathing in the heady chocolate scent. "You could work on your attitude," he observed mildly, not for the first time. He removed his glasses as they steamed up from the sudden heat, wiping them briskly before returning them to his face.
"You came in, didn't you?" Echizen pointed out, a smirk tugging at his lips as he pushed the door to and cut off the cold air. He didn't bother to verbalise any invitation since they both knew that Tezuka would follow him through to the back room now he was inside.
"So how have you been?" Tezuka tried again, the words feeling far less awkward on his tongue than he'd expect them to. He didn't even find it easy to talk to relatively close friends, like Kawamura, but after the first visit he'd come to feel more relaxed around Echizen. That was doubtless what brought him back. It was Atobe that left him off balance, when the man was around at least.
"Horny," Echizen said unexpectedly, before explaining, "He's away."
Tezuka didn't need to ask who 'he' was, but he found himself glancing around the backroom as they reached it anyway. "Ah," was all he could say on the matter. It wasn't that he was embarrassed by Echizen's admission, but what did one say to such a statement? Wank more? "I see."
Echizen snickered, holding a hand out for Tezuka's coat as he did every time Tezuka stopped by. The first time, Tezuka hadn't realise what the man wanted and had stared at his hand blankly until it was explained. This time he shrugged it off and handed it over without a word on the matter being exchanged, "Where is he?"
"Why? Don't you believe me?" Echizen asked. "I saw you looking for him," he added as he moved away with Tezuka's coat.
"I—" Tezuka broke off, not actually having an explanation. "Last time was awkward," he finally confessed, evasively, not wishing to discuss the matter but unwilling to lie.
"You're always awkward when Keigo's here," Echizen stated, though he didn't seem the least bit bothered by the fact. It went unsaid that Tezuka's behaviour was transparent, that he was obviously attracted to Atobe and unable to overcome the man's overt flirtation with anything but frost whilst retaining his dignity. "What did you want today?"
"Cinnamon," Tezuka said, ignoring the comment on his conduct around Keigo. He moved to take one of the seats as Echizen departed to fetch the drink, allowing himself to relax in the entirely too comfortable cradle the chair created. Sometimes he suspected he could drift off, sat there in the quiet of Echizen's backroom. One day, he was certain, he really would fall asleep; he wondered how Echizen would react when that day came.
"Here," Echizen said, setting the cup down in front of Tezuka with his usual lack of courtesy. Tezuka was sometimes surprised the drink didn't splash over onto the mat and tablecloth. He wondered if Echizen had practiced so as to get his degree of force just right and prevent such a spillage.
"Thank you," Tezuka murmured as he picked up the cup to warm his fingers while he waited for it to cool enough to drink. It smelt wonderful; it always did.
Echizen sat in the seat beside him instead of across from him like he usually did. Tezuka could feel the man's eyes on him as he breathed the sweet smell in, and it took everything Tezuka had to stop himself from turning to took at him. Echizen didn't say anything to make it easier either, he just watched Tezuka with his drink. Watched him with a small, smug, satisfied little smirk of which Tezuka found himself entirely too fond.
Slowly, blowing across the faintly frothy topping, Tezuka took his first sip. He never rushed it, no matter if Atobe or Echizen were present. Both or neither, he savoured his drink each and every time since the first. It was such a rich flavour, and the cinnamon tang was both beautifully sweet and warm after the cold weather; it left a pleasant knot of heat in Tezuka's belly. He closed his eyes and quite simply revelled in it, biting back the embarrassing little moan that fought to surface.
"I told you you'd love it," Echizen whispered as Tezuka finally lowered the mug. It made Tezuka jump a little because Echizen wasn't in his seat any longer, and Tezuka had completely missed the man moving to perch on the arm of his chair.
Tezuka set the cup down on the table carefully, ignoring the way his heart rate seemed to have sped up with the increase in proximity. He wasn't a silly school girl, he reminded himself, and he knew that Echizen was just trying to get under his skin. He met the man's challenging gaze squarely, "Yes, you did."
"I know something else you'd love," Echizen confided, the warmth of his breath tickling Tezuka's damp mouth. It made Tezuka self-conscious of the smears of chocolate that might be left from the beverage, and he found himself licking his lips.
"You do?" he asked once he swallowed past the lump that had inexplicably formed in his throat. The situation felt a little too familiar, it was surreal.
"Yes," Echizen confirmed, and then he was kissing Tezuka and licking the chocolate flavour from Tezuka's mouth. Tezuka would later blame the hand cupping the back of his neck for the fact that he didn't immediately pull away.
It hadn't been exactly the same the previous time he'd been in, but it had been close enough. The previous time, Atobe had been there of course. Atobe couldn't have made everything obscenely awkward without actually being present after all.
"Echizen," Tezuka had greeted as he stepped inside, turning to close the door immediately. It had only been as he looked up properly that he'd realised it was not Echizen but Atobe behind the counter, eyeing Tezuka with no small amount of amusement. "I apologise," Tezuka had said, hiding his surprise from his expression. "Atobe."
"Tezuka," Atobe had returned. "You look well." It would have been polite and normal, if not for the lecherous look that accompanied it.
Tezuka had had no response to it, tugging his gloves off first before he found an appropriate, "As do you."
"Merely well?" Atobe had queried, the faintest pout belied by the mirth in his gaze.
Tezuka had been less than amused. He didn't flirt, he never had, yet Atobe constantly delighted in trying to trip him up with innuendo and shamelessness. "Quite well," he allowed, coolly.
"You do wound me, Tezuka," Atobe said as he stepped back, waving Tezuka behind the counter as Echizen would usually do. It was only as Tezuka was passing him that Atobe went on, accompanied by his hand on Tezuka's ass, "Such lies, right to my face."
Tezuka had come incredibly close to squeaking, or slapping Atobe, neither of which offered a terribly strong testimony to his masculinity.
"Leave him alone, monkey-king," Echizen had admonished, coming out of the kitchen so unexpectedly that Tezuka narrowly avoided walking right into him after he'd sped up to escape Atobe's wandering hands. "Tezuka," he'd greeted, setting the mugs he'd been carrying down on the table.
"Echizen," Tezuka had acknowledged. "Thank you, but I don't need a defender." He'd felt obliged to say it, more out of a desire not to appear a victim than anything else. He'd ignored what had sounded suspiciously like a snort from Atobe.
Echizen had grinned at him, laughter in his eyes. "You'll be glad to know I'm going out then," he'd said, holding a hand out for Tezuka's coat. It was always Echizen and never Atobe that took his coat he'd noticed, to the extent he was almost inclined to believe that the only reason Echizen was still there was to ensure he was made comfortable and served a drink.
Tezuka had objected to being happy that Echizen would be gone, but only mentally. He'd handed over his coat and watched Echizen retreat, telling him, "I hope you have an enjoyable evening."
Atobe had mock-yawned then, sliding past Tezuka so the lengths of their bodies brushed despite the acres of room the man had had in which to pass without collision. Tezuka tossed a faintly irritated look at Atobe's back, but calling attention to it in Echizen's presence was too embarrassing to contemplate.
"Thanks," Echizen had called back, blissfully oblivious to his lover's inappropriate behaviour. "It's ginger spice on the table."
Tezuka had wanted to stay standing and ask where it was that Echizen had to be, but that was also inappropriate given the invitation so he'd moved and taken a seat. He'd made sure not to look at Atobe as he picked up one of the mugs in question, cradling it between his palms as he breathed it in.
"Just us then," Atobe had said, and Tezuka had wished he hadn't managed to make it sound so sordid.
"Not yet," Tezuka had objected, deciding to ignore Atobe in favour of the beverage.
"Later, monkey-king," Echizen had called. "Behave."
"Good bye, brat," Atobe had retorted, in good humour. It was only as the door opened and closed to signal Echizen's departure that Atobe added, "We'd never misbehave, would we, Tezuka?"
Tezuka had declined to comment, taking his first sip of chocolate with every intention of getting out of there again as fast as possible. He had had no desire to be alone with Atobe Keigo. It hadn't been because he doubted his ability to fend the man off; it was that he doubted he really wanted to fend the man off enough to try.
The chocolate had tasted amazing, as it always did. There was just enough ginger to give it a slight tingly burn, like tiny tongues of flame were dancing through every mouthful that Tezuka swallowed. "It's good," he'd murmured softly, the steam from the cup misting his glasses.
"Of course," Atobe had stated, and that was all.
The steam had left Tezuka blind, forcing him to set the mug back on the table carefully and remove his spectacles for cleaning. He'd been in no position to avoid Atobe's advance, abruptly confronted by Atobe's proximity when he took a firm grip on Tezuka's wrists.
"What—" Tezuka had managed to get out before Atobe's lips had covered his own, before Atobe's tongue had invaded his mouth as if Tezuka belonged to him.
Atobe had tasted of chocolate and ginger spice.
Tezuka had made like a sensible person and left swiftly once he'd remembered that he wasn't supposed to be kissing Echizen at all, just as he hadn't been meant to kiss Atobe prior to that. He was arriving at the conclusion that between them, they were aiming to kill him off. They certainly seemed to be putting his heart through its paces, leaving it thudding resoundingly in his ears each time he left. Tezuka was almost entirely sure he'd been blushing horribly on both occasions too; he was simply opting to ignore it.
The one good thing that had come of Echizen's move, if it could be called good, was that it had hardened Tezuka's resolve not to return to the shop. He didn't know what was going on between Atobe and Echizen that their relationship was quite so… dysfunctional, but he wasn't interested in being dragged into the crossfire when they realised what they were doing to each other.
The only problem was that even now, as he went for the agreed meeting with Kawamura, he was still thinking about them. It rendered the benefit of not visiting very slight with regard to his conscience. Still, he found his calm as he ducked into the sushi restaurant. It was horrible to do, but hopefully what Kawamura wanted to talk about would take his mind off his situation.
"Tezuka," Kawamura greeted, smiling a little nervously. The tips of his ears were already red in anticipation of the conversation ahead, and Tezuka felt tempted to turn right around.
"Kawamura," he said instead, approaching the counter to take a seat on one of the stools. "How are you?"
Kawamura hesitated, uncertain but quite serious as he confessed, "I think I'm… good."
"You think?" Tezuka raised an eyebrow, amusement softening his expression marginally.
Kawamura grabbed a cloth to wipe the already pristine surfaces, "Well, I met someone."
Tezuka had to resist not only the urge to raise the other eyebrow, but the extremely inappropriate urge to blurt out 'where?' because he didn't know Kawamura well enough to make judgements on his social life, or suspected lack there of. He also, he reminded himself, shouldn't be interested in gossip like that. It was one of those moments where he'd have hung up on Inui, except he was getting it from Kawamura himself. He settled on making a curious sort of sound, but not actually commenting aloud.
Kawamura shot him a glance, and then once around the store as if he'd only belatedly considered that there could be people listening despite his prediction of a quiet night. Tezuka knew he needn't have worried – the restaurant was practically empty, especially so early in the evening. He watched as Kawamura dropped the cloth to one side, turning his attention to the meal he was to prepare for them.
"It's a customer," Kawamura admitted, which answered Tezuka's unasked question. "Not exactly regular," he added with a glance toward the door as if this mysterious person would interrupt them at any moment. "But he's been in a lot the last month."
Tezuka noted that Kawamura grew very still, but it took a moment for him to grasp that it was over the unintentional 'he'. It simply wasn't something Tezuka thought anything of, not considering his own proclivity toward men. Realising he should say something, he swallowed and asked, "He's made some manner of overture?"
"Oh no," Kawamura said frankly. "But I think…" he trailed off, a frown knitting his brow as he continued to work diligently.
"He's amenable?" Tezuka supplied, watching Kawamura's hands move deftly.
Kawamura was silent for a moment, "Yes. He always comes to sit at the counter, and…" A smile curved Kawamura's lips, "And we talk, not just to be polite."
Tezuka didn't say anything, though he thought of how easy it had been to speak to Echizen and felt a pang of envy.
"I'm not sure what to do," Kawamura finished honestly, glancing over at Tezuka again. "I don't want things to be awkward, but…" The tips of Kawamura's ears burned red and he ducked his head away from Tezuka's knowing look.
Tezuka thought of Echizen and Atobe, and how different things might have been if there'd only been one of them. "Ask him," Tezuka said firmly. It earned him a surprised but pleased look that told him he'd said precisely what Kawamura had wanted to hear.
After leaving Kawamura's that Thursday evening, the days seemed to meld into each other. Tezuka wasn't sure how it managed to feel like an eon had passed, yet still feel like the drama had only unfolded the previous day. It did, though, and every time he paused in his work, thoughts of Echizen or Atobe, most often both, intruded on the trouble free life he was attempting to pursue.
"Tezuka-san?" asked the librarian, Yamamoto, calling Tezuka's attention to the fact that he'd been staring at the same page for a good five minutes without reading a word.
"Yes?" Tezuka adjusted his glasses as he glanced up at him. Yamamoto was a very proper and elderly man who'd occupied the same post for about half a century, or so Tezuka would guess without meaning any disrespect. He was very well mannered but had the air of someone accustomed to serving others, yet someone who was still wholly proud to be part of the academic world.
"There's a gentleman to see you," he explained. "He's waiting in the lobby."
Tezuka blinked, slowly closing the volume at which he'd been looking. There was no need to check the page number, he'd not read anything of great consequence. "Did he give a name?"
"No, sir," Yamamoto admitted with a frown. "But he said you would not wish to miss him. If you would accompany me?"
Tezuka nodded, pushing his seat back and reaching for his bag. He knew that realistically his things would be safe in the library given the necessary clearances for entry, but he did hate to leave things unattended. He also couldn't be sure he'd return if it was a fellow academic or a friend in need – he hoped it wasn't Kawamura because things had gone badly.
Shouldering his bag, Tezuka quickly followed Yamamoto out of the reading room. He knew where the lobby was, of course, but it was only polite. He was glad that they were in a library and needn't make small talk, however. He admired Yamamoto, but he always felt about twenty years too young to hold a conversation with him.
When Tezuka saw Atobe leaning against the lobby desk, he almost tuned right around again. Atobe was the absolute last person that Tezuka wanted to see, especially when he was dressed like the president of the gay pride society. On its own the purple silk shirt might have been passable, but with the addition of a neckline that was both frilly and plunging… Atobe had no right to look so good in such a horrible piece of clothing, especially with a white suit.
"Tezuka," Atobe greeted as Yamamoto bowed and moved off behind the counter. Tezuka was stuck.
"Atobe," Tezuka responded warily. He wanted to know how Atobe had managed to find him, but could find no way to ask the words.
"Coffee, then," Atobe remarked after an appraising look.
Tezuka said nothing, waiting for the man to lead on. He didn't feel the least comfortable with the situation, but he couldn't back out without showing appalling manners.
"So quiet," Atobe mused, descending the steps into the high street. "Are you so in awe of me?" He sounded as though it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion.
"What are you doing here?" Tezuka responded bluntly, feeling less restricted out of Yamamoto's watchful gaze. He refused to rise to Atobe's bait.
"Straight down to business then?" Atobe was approaching a limousine, and Tezuka immediately decided there was no way he was getting inside, alone, with Atobe. "Always so stiff and formal, Tezuka. You should learn to relax, ahn?"
Tezuka gave him a glacial look. "We can walk," he said firmly.
Atobe paused, eyeing Tezuka as though he was weighing up whether or not he could overcome his resistance easily. Thankfully, he made no attempt and accepted Tezuka's decision. "We shall walk then."
And so they walked in silence to the nearest Starbucks, with Tezuka barely speaking to place his order let alone anything else. Atobe's silence was somewhat puzzling, but Tezuka was certainly not going to make the first move. Thus it remained, pervasive, until they were tucked away in a booth where the possibility of being overheard was mitigated substantially. By then Tezuka's gaze demanded that Atobe get on with it.
"Ryoma informed me of your rejection," Atobe stated candidly. It shocked Tezuka, to think it was something he'd considered a grave secret and yet Atobe was apparently fully aware the fact. "Really, Tezuka," Atobe continued. "It was appalling enough that you declined me, but to turn down my lover when I offer him to you is just bad manners. This whole avoidance drama you're indulging in is quite ridiculous. 'The Lady doth protest too much', does he not?"
Tezuka felt like the floor had fallen out from under him. Nothing that Atobe was saying was making sense in his worldview, and yet it all fitted perfectly. It explained the calm acceptance both had exhibited when he hastily departed. "You offered?" he asked incredulously.
Atobe raised an eyebrow. "He'd hardly look elsewhere without encouragement, Tezuka." The 'not when he has me for a lover' resounded in the silence, and Tezuka might have boggled at Atobe's audacity had he not suspected the man might have a point.
Tezuka struggled to find the words to respond, his order forgotten on the table before him, "Why?" he eventually managed.
"Take a look in the mirror," Atobe said mildly, taking a sip from his caramel macchiato.
"No," Tezuka said, not having meant why they'd wanted him. He couldn't help but flush at the immodesty of not having questioned it now that Atobe had drawn attention to the fact though. Clearing his throat, Tezuka determined to ignore how heated his face felt. "I meant, why the games?"
"Most people do not have such large sticks wedged up their arses that they outweigh my charms," Atobe told him with a smirk. "If not for the heated looks you kept giving us… You do come across as rather frigid, Tezuka."
The slight helped Tezuka centre himself and he slid swiftly from his seat to stand. "I did not come here to be insulted, Atobe," he said with a calm he didn't feel.
"Of course not," Atobe replied. "You came so that I'd invite you to engage in a mind blowing threesome with myself and my lover." Atobe's gaze was such a jumble of emotions Tezuka couldn't hope to read it. It wasn't only humour, but lust and insatiable curiosity, too. The want was palpable; it dripped from his every word. "Think about it, Tezuka. All you have to do is say yes."
"Goodbye, Atobe," Tezuka told him coldly, opting to simply leave as he was unable to decide where to start in refuting the preposterous assertions Atobe had made.
Tezuka would have liked to claim that he was furious for the rest of the day, and that he couldn't concentrate on his work because of that. He'd have been lying to himself though, because his preoccupation had little to do with anger and everything to do with wishing he'd not let his walls get in the way again.
Regret.
It was an attempt to take his mind off things which brought him back to Kawamura's, acutely aware that it was much sooner than his usual interims but needing to allow someone else to occupy him. A brief respite, he hoped, at the least.
There was already a customer settled at the counter, a slight figure that Tezuka could almost have mistaken for a girl. Tezuka found himself nodding politely in response to the smile he received as he sat down, not entirely sure of protocol and wondering where Kawamura had gotten to since he wasn't visible.
"I'm sorry, Fujiko, I—" Kawamura broke off as he spotted Tezuka. "Tezuka?"
"Good evening," Tezuka greeted, realising the effeminate man at his side must be the 'someone' that Kawamura had met. He had to resist the urge to turn and look more closely. "Is it a bad time?"
Kawamura shot a glance at his companion before shaking his head, smile a little bashfully in the wake of his hesitation. "Of course not, I was just surprised. Tezuka Kunimitsu, let me introduce Fuji Syuusuke."
Tezuka found himself on the receiving end of another smile as he looked to Fuji, the smile not wavering as they bowed. When the man spoke, his voice was as soft as his appearance, "A pleasure, Tezuka-san. I hear I'm to thank you for your encouragement of Taka-san."
"Ah, well—" Kawamura sputtered.
"You're welcome," Tezuka interrupted. A flash of envy moved through him, though he concealed it with good humour at Kawamura's awkwardness. Tezuka had rejected his chance at something like they had, rejected the opportunity to even explore what was being offered because the consideration left him vulnerable. Tezuka felt the regret again.
"You look like someone who needs the same advice," Fuji observed as he lifted a glass of water to take a sip, successfully derailing Tezuka's feigned amusement.
Tezuka blinked, watching Fuji dab his lips with a napkin when he was done. "I don't understand," he confessed, because how could Fuji possibly know?
Kawamura was regarding Tezuka thoughtfully, though he'd initially appeared as puzzled by Fuji's statement as Tezuka himself. "Tezuka," Kawamura said carefully. "What are you doing here? You never come on Tuesdays."
Tezuka opened his mouth to protest that he did, and swiftly realised he didn't. He tended to visit Echizen on a Tuesday, Echizen and Atobe. "My usual engagement has been soured," Tezuka eventually said quietly, because it was almost the truth. "I was made an offer I couldn't accept."
Kawamura nodded, ready to believe what Tezuka had said and ask no more. He was a good friend to have when one wanted to avoid having their business pried into.
Tezuka wasn't expecting Fuji's hand on his arm, the invasion of his personal space almost making him jump. "Tezuka-san," Fuji said, drawing Tezuka's gaze from Fuji's hand to his face. "Perhaps you should consider what it is that's stopping you?"
It had taken days after hearing Fuji's words for Tezuka to reach any manner of decision about how to proceed. He'd spent far too many sleepless nights in that short span of time, tossing and turning as he dwelt on the pair of them, on Echizen and Atobe. Atobe had made it seem so simple; as if it was really as easy as walking in and saying he wanted them both. Like he was making an order that they'd satisfy just as every other order he'd ever made for a simple cup of chocolate.
And suddenly it had occurred to him, maybe it was that easy. That thought had brought him back to the store, staring at the deceivingly dark windows for a full five minutes as he tried to argue himself out of it. Or maybe into it, he wasn't sure anymore by that point.
The bell jingled overhead as he slipped inside, just like always. The aroma of delicious hot chocolate reached out to greet him, wrapping its tendrils around him and ensnaring him, just like always. It could almost have been any other time he'd visited, except that he knew it wasn't because he had a mission now, a goal.
There was no one out front, but he felt no need to wait as he wound his way behind the counter. It was a route that Echizen had invited him down countless times before, and his feet knew the way even while his mind continued to race. He wanted to stop, wanted to believe he couldn't possibly be thinking of doing what he was about to, except he didn't want to stop and he was thinking it. He was doing it as he slipped into the backroom and called out.
"Hold on," Atobe called from upstairs.
Echizen's soft snickering was audible in the background, and words said too quietly for Tezuka to hear from so great a distance. He still had to remind himself that Echizen didn't know that it was him, so they couldn't be laughing at him in anticipation. Atobe would have said his name if he'd known it was Tezuka, because Atobe seemed to enjoy the power names had over people.
It didn't take long before Atobe descended the narrow staircase, but it had been long enough that Tezuka was on the verge of escaping unidentified.
"Tezuka," Atobe greeted; a blend of surprise and delight smoothed away with the smugness of satisfied expectation in the space of Tezuka's name. Tezuka rather wished he hadn't, because Atobe's attitude always made him defensive and that was the last thing he needed to be to do this. Nor did it help that Atobe was very casually dressed, for Atobe, and it made him look even sexier than usual.
"Atobe," he greeted cordially, folding his arms across his chest. He'd meant to continue from that, but the words stuck in his throat and could come no further.
"Better get down here, brat," Atobe called up the stairs behind him before glancing at Tezuka again. He had a way of looking Tezuka up and down – blatantly checking him out – that made Tezuka feel totally exposed even when he was fully dressed. He willed his cheeks not to heat visibly and remained silent as he waited for Atobe to continue.
"Well," Atobe finally said, when it was clear Tezuka wasn't about to say a thing and Echizen would not be descending in time to intervene.
"To what do we owe this pleasure?" Atobe continued, not the least bit discomforted by the silence as he strolled round to take a seat on the divan.
Tezuka didn't reply right away, staring at the weave of the tablecloth before eventually lifting his gaze to meet Atobe's challenging one. "I want it," he said.
Atobe raised an eyebrow, smirking as he asked, "Want what?"
Tezuka gave him a cool look initially, irritated at being toyed with. Yet, Atobe was sitting there looking incredibly gorgeous as he relaxed back, totally self-assured. It was easy to say it, "You. You and Echizen."
"You have totally awful timing, Tezuka," Atobe told him, his words hitting Tezuka like a punch to the gut.
Maybe he was too late? Tezuka hadn't considered that there could've been a time limit on the proposal. Maybe they'd decided that since Tezuka hadn't taken the offer up sooner, he obviously wasn't interested. It had been withdrawn and Atobe really had simply been playing with him. Tezuka found himself tensing, stepping backwards as though he was seeking to step out of the scene completely.
"Ignore him, Tezuka," Echizen broke in as he entered the room, his descent having gone undetected by Tezuka as he grappled with the situation.
Echizen looked mussed, his hair in an even greater disarray than usual. His feet were bare and his jeans hung low on his hips without a belt to secure them. He was wearing a tee that was too big for him, scratching his belly absently and flashing tanned skin as he padded across toward Tezuka, "He just means we were fucking."
"Oh," was all Tezuka could say by way of response, frozen like a deer in the headlights as Echizen advanced on him. His mind was full of images of them together, images he wanted to become a part of so very badly now.
Echizen took hold of his wrists, as if Tezuka were a doll for him to play with, and Tezuka found himself observing the actions like an outsider. Carefully Echizen unfolded Tezuka's arms, pulling them about his trim waist as he stepped in close to Tezuka. When Echizen released his grip to run his hands along Tezuka's biceps to his shoulders, Tezuka only tightened the embrace until Echizen was flush against him.
It was belatedly, as Echizen's breathy chuckle whispered against his throat, that he looked across at where Atobe was sitting, just watching them. Tezuka couldn't understand how Atobe wasn't the least bit bothered, seeing Echizen pressing against him the way he was now, or why he wasn't moving to join them when it had all been his idea in the beginning.
"He's getting old," Echizen explained, as if he could tell exactly what Tezuka was thinking. "He's not sure he'll be able to get it up again so soon," Echizen added, lips ghosting along Tezuka's throat with just the slightest brush of tongue to make him shiver. Of its own accord, Tezuka's hand dropped to the curve of Echizen's ass and squeezed. Echizen made a soft noise, one that Tezuka immediately wanted to hear again, and confided huskily, "I have more faith in your capabilities."
Atobe merely rolled his eyes, presumably at the aspersions Echizen was casting upon his stamina, but made no move to get up from where he was lounging. A smug smirk on his lips, knowing mirth in his eyes, he asked teasingly, "Enjoying yourself, Tezuka?"
"Yes," Tezuka whispered as Echizen tilted his face up toward him, and then he didn't say any more because he was too busy kissing Echizen.
He was tasting Echizen and tasting chocolate.