Title: Back Up Again
Summary: Ryoma thinks piggyback rides are fun, Tezuka's back might disagree.
Ryoma has a sly look in his eyes as he holds out his arms and says, "Up!"
Tezuka raises his eyes to meet Ryoma's. A brow lowers like the book in his hand. He tries to frown and only manages a slight downturn of his lips.
Ever since Ryoma twisted his ankle, he's been using Tezuka as a means of transportation. The doctor warned them against aggravating the injury. Walking, and even standing (too long), wasn't recommended until after a week or so if Ryoma wanted a full complication-free recovery. It's an exaggeration, Tezuka knows, but Ryoma stubbornly decides to abide by his doctor's every word despite ignoring the advice to stay indoors on rainy days.
Tezuka's suggestion for a wheelchair earlier in the week had also been firmly denied:
"There's no elevators in the apartment building," Ryoma protests. His lie is about as transparent as his inability to play doubles. The building has two elevators, Tezuka wants to say, but doesn't bother wasting the effort. Ryoma usually always gets his way in the end. Sure enough, he does get his way in the end.
Luckily Ryoma is light enough for Tezuka to carry around short distances at a time.
Initially, Tezuka never had any qualms with it. Unfortunately, Ryoma is extremely lazy and knows exactly when to take advantage of a situation. There is only so much laziness Tezuka can take before it starts to drive him mad.
"Where?" Tezuka intones flatly, suppressing the annoyance in his voice; it'd only encourage the younger man further, sadly.
Seeing that Tezuka wouldn't be obliging quite so soon, Ryoma lets his hands fall to his side. He reclines back on his palms.
"Out," Ryoma answers simply.
Tezuka's expression stays the same. "Out," he repeats slowly, drawing out the vowels as the tone of his voice deepens.
"Out," Ryoma reiterates while quirking a brow. "Hearing problem old man?"
Tezuka doesn't react to Ryoma's barbs, but his brow inclines a fraction of an inch, inciting a small smirk from Ryoma.
"Are you afraid you'll break your back?" he taunts, eyes sparking with amusement.
Tezuka, used to Ryoma poking fun at his age (or lack of), merely looks back down at his novel.
Ryoma narrows his eyes unhappily. "I've been stuck inside all day," he states bluntly with a scowl. He isn't someone who can keep still for an extended period of time, especially not when his activities are restricted to reading and playing video games. Video games maybe, but it isn't fun playing the same game by himself three days in a row.
Tezuka leisurely turns to the next page.
Ryoma glares at him. "Please," he grumbles, an indignant look settling on his face as he folds his arms across his chest with a huff.
Brown eyes flicker. They both sit there, staring at each other for a good while. Just as Tezuka's eyes drift back down to his novel and before Ryoma deflates pathetically on the floor, Tezuka slides in his bookmark before shutting the hardback novel close. "Where is out?" He sounds resigned.
Ryoma grins, eyes lighting up when the book disappears into the messenger bag. "Just the park," he says in a voice that is supposed to be reassuring—Tezuka knows better—and holds out his arms again. "You can be a bore and finish reading that book of yours."
Eyes rolling, Tezuka walks towards Ryoma and kneels down, presenting his back. Ryoma eagerly climbs on, wrapping his arms carefully around Tezuka's neck as Tezuka hooks his arms behind his knees.
Once sure that his passenger is secure, Tezuka straightens and bounces Ryoma up once to adjust his hold on the smaller man.
"Anything else you want?" he asks dryly.
Ryoma points to the table as he settles his chin comfortably on Tezuka's shoulder. Tezuka goes; Ryoma swipes up his cap. He points to the fridge after. Tezuka obeys, skillfully pulling open the door on the right. Ryoma reaches over and pulls free a can of Ponta from the side shelf. With practiced ease, Tezuka lowers himself down so Ryoma can reach his bottle of water. When Ryoma flicks the door shut, Tezuka heads to the entrance, bypassing Ryoma's shoes (there wouldn't really be a point, since Ryoma isn't supposed to be on his feet anyway), as he slides his feet into his well-worn tennis shoes.
Meanwhile Ryoma slides the drinks into Tezuka's bag, careful to keep the cold can next to the drink bottle and away from the book. He pulls out Tezuka's keys afterwards, and locks the door when Tezuka kicks it shut. He drops the keys back into the bag with a chink, and rewinds his arms around Tezuka as he buries his head in the crook of Tezuka's neck.
He feels Tezuka's chest rumbling with silent laughter, and merely tightens his hold around the older man.
They always get weird looks walking down the streets like this, but Tezuka doesn't care, and Ryoma doesn't care, not even when a flash or two goes off in the edge of their peripheral.
Understandably, the hat dangling loosely in Ryoma's hand is a dead giveaway for any paparazzi looking for them, but neither of them care about that either.
Tezuka has a feeling Ryoma does that on purpose. It makes him smile.
