Chapter summary: It's Tezuka's birthday. Fuji has plans, but he's worried that he'll screw up somehow. [Written for Tezuka's birthday 2016.]
Note: A smut scene (1855 words) has been cut out to retain this fic's "T" rating. To read the complete chapter, please find Dropping the Anchor on my Livejournal or AO3 accounts (links available on my profile page).
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Dropping the Anchor
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Buzz buzz. Buzz.
[ 1 new message from Tezuka Kunimitsu.
Reaching in 10. ]
Fuji placed his phone on the kitchen counter and paced around the kitchen, ticking off his mental checklist for the hundredth time.
Rice, check. Salad, check. Miso soup, check. Dessert, check.
All he had left to do was to grill the Pacific saury, which he should get to in about three minutes. That way it would be perfectly cooked by the time Tezuka arrives.
It's Tezuka's thirtieth birthday tomorrow, the first important event they would spend together since they mended their estranged relationship three and a half months ago. They had made plans to go out for dinner, after which Fuji had intended to invite Tezuka home for coffee and homemade dessert. He had made a reservation at a restaurant that had a nice view of the sea, just fifteen minutes away from his cafe, but two hours before their planned meeting time, Tezuka texted him to say that an something had cropped up at the hospital.
Knowing that Tezuka wouldn't be on duty the next day, Fuji took a chance on inviting Tezuka over to his apartment directly instead. If dinner was at home, it didn't matter what time Tezuka came over since he would have the flexibility to prepare it accordingly. And the tart he had baked in the morning, an original recipe he had created specially with Tezuka's tastes in mind and spent two weeks perfecting, wouldn't go to waste.
Celebrating Tezuka's birthday was important, but the truth was that he simply wanted to see Tezuka. Although they were only living a prefecture apart, which wasn't really long-distance per se, their hectic work schedules made meeting up a heinous task. They had only managed to see each other twice since the day fate guided them back into each other's lives, and the last time they met was over a month ago.
But today… they would be able to spend time together until tomorrow evening. Tezuka was coming over to Chiba. Tezuka would be eating his cooking, and the tart he made. And after that, maybe they could watch a movie on his couch, or listen to some music and catch up on the years they've lost. And maybe, if the mood was right, maybe…
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Earlier that day…
"Someone's early today," Saeki muttered with a lazy drawl as he strolled into the cafe's kitchen, a small yawn passing his lips as he secured his apron around his waist. "Oha."
"Ohayou," Fuji mumbled half-heartedly, his focus zoomed in on the numbers on the weighing scale as he meticulously added in calculated amounts of cream cheese, sugar, milk and matcha powder into the mixing bowl on the scale.
Saeki rested an arm on Fuji's shoulder as he peered into the bowl. The mixture didn't look like it was for anything that was on their menu. "Hmm. Today's the day?"
"Mmhmm…" Reaching for the whisk, Fuji gently shrugged Saeki off before starting to combine the ingredients in the bowl with trained flicks of his wrist.
Saeki did some light stretches in attempt to fully awaken his body for the day ahead, and moved to the dishwasher to retrieve the kitchenware they had put in to wash the night before.
"What's that cream for? Some kinda kinky play?" he asked teasingly as he brought the heavy tray to the counter next to Fuji so that he could sort the contents out and place them where they belonged.
Saeki nearly jumped as Fuji dropped the whisk into the stainless steel bowl with a loud clang. "What?! No!"
"Relax, pal. I was just kidding. Although, it's not like I would know what you guys do in the bedroom."
Fuji took in a deep breath and resumed whisking the contents in the bowl. He'd been a bunch of nerves since yesterday, he could barely even sleep. Like a kid on the night before a school trip. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... It's just… I'm feeling really nervous for some reason. I don't want to screw this up."
"That's unlike you. Tezuka's not going to dump you just because you screwed up a little, right?" Saeki said as he put away the coffee and tea sets, then gathered the things he needed to prepare their cafe's signature dessert.
"I know that, but it's not like I can help it. I have this feeling that something will go wrong." Fuji muttered with a sigh, pausing for a moment to look to his friend for support.
Saeki looked at the brunette with a raised eyebrow, the corner of his lips quirk into a grin. "What's making you so uneasy? Is it because it's his birthday? Because you're inviting him over? Because you're baking something you created without my sis's recipe? Or do you really have something kinky up your sleeves?"
Fuji glared daggers at Saeki, before closing his eyes as another heavy breath passed his lips. "All of that. Except the kinky stuff. Don't even mention kinky, we haven't even…," Fuji bit down on his words, a soft hue washing over his face. "Forget that."
"What? You haven't… no way." Saeki put down whatever he had in his hands, widened cobalt eyes staring at his best friend in disbelief. "Don't tell me you're waiting for the third date to get to third base. It's not as if you've never dated each other before."
"We just haven't had the luxury of time." The blush on Fuji's cheeks deepened. He turned back to his mixing bowl and gave the mixture a few more whisks before proceeding to pour it into the tart shell he had baked earlier. "Stop making it sound like it's a big deal. It's just sex, it's not the most important thing in the world."
"Are you kidding me? Makeup sex is not 'just sex'. It's the hottest type of sex there is."
Giving the baking pan a few light shakes to even out the thick matcha cream, Fuji then put the used mixing bowl and utensils away in the sink. "Why are you so concerned about whether Kunimitsu and I have had sex anyway? Could it be that you're interested in the details…?" Fuji asked in a seductive tone, gliding his hand across the taller man's shoulders and clasping Saeki firmly around the arm, tilting his head to glance up at his friend with a suggestive smile.
Saeki felt a shudder run up his spine and goosebumps forming on his skin. His hands gripped on to the edge of the counter as if it would provide some sort of support or defence against Fuji's advances. "I-I just find it unbelievable. You guys practically made out on the porch the night you got back together."
"For the record, we've only seen each other twice since then, and both times we only managed to have time for a meal."
"Well, you're inviting him home today. That's a guaranteed home run if you ask me. Just don't play hard to get."
"Oh shut up, Kojirou."
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Snapping out of his thoughts, Fuji looked at the time and swiftly started the grill. He then made a final check around the apartment. The floor was spotless, every surface had been dusted, the cushions had been fluffed. He had even scrubbed the bath and toilet. Just as he was about to go back to the kitchen to check on the fish, the doorbell rang. He looked at the video intercom and felt a small flutter in his stomach as he reached for the door.
"It's not been ten minutes yet," he muttered as he held the door open so that his guest could enter.
"To be honest, I had already parked my car when I sent that."
"Since when have you become such a good liar?" Fuji teased with a soft chuckle, setting out a pair of guest slippers for Tezuka.
Toeing off his shoes, Tezuka stepped into the pair of fuzzy brown room slippers and followed Fuji down the short corridor and into the living room.
"Welcome to my humble abode. Make yourself at home, dinner will be served shortly. If you'd like to wash up, the washroom is back down that corridor, on the right," Fuji said with a prim smile and precise hand gestures, like a flight attendant giving safety instructions.
He observed Tezuka with anticipation, waiting for a faint smile, or at least a quirk of an eyebrow, but was caught off guard when Tezuka moved forward to envelope him in an embrace instead.
"...is everything okay?"
"Just for a bit…"
Fuji felt a warmth spreading through his body as Tezuka hugged him tight against his broad chest, not saying a thing, simply holding him. He could hear Tezuka's heartbeat, steady and strong, and for some reason that made his own heartbeat quicken a little.
"I missed you too," he mumbled inaudibly into Tezuka's chest. It had been a long month, being so near yet so far away, especially since he had been planning and preparing for Tezuka's birthday. He had been looking forward to this.
He felt Tezuka's hand on the back of his head, and looked up at the taller man.
"Did you say something, Syuusuke?"
The soft beeping of the kitchen timer interrupted their little moment of reunion, though Fuji didn't quite mind the timely intrusion.
Fuji shook his head lightly and smiled, standing on his toes to steal a quick kiss, "I need to turn off the grill."
"Let me help."
"Not allowed. You're a guest. Go wash your hands and make yourself comfortable, dinner will be ready in a minute."
Fuji strode quickly around the compact bar that served as partition between the open kitchen and the living room, and reached for the knob on the grill. Humming quietly to himself, he worked efficiently around the small kitchen.
When Tezuka returned from the washroom, the coffee table was already populated with a couple of dishes.
"Sorry I don't have a dining table. I used the space for a bar counter instead."
"I don't mind. This looks and smells good. Do you cook often?"
"I do when I can. Just simple stuff though," Fuji said with a smile as he pulled out two zabuton from under the sofa and gestured for Tezuka to take a seat. He then went back to the bar counter to retrieve the remaining two bowls of steamed multi-grain rice, two pairs of chopsticks, and came back to the coffee table, settling down beside Tezuka.
The bespectacled man admired the modest spread before him. There was miso soup with daikon radish, a salad with tofu, tomatoes, greens, edamame beans and dried sakura shrimp, a small dish of sweet vinegar pickled shredded carrots and onions with raisins, and of course, the perfectly grilled fish, served with grated daikon radish and a wedge of lemon on the side. It wasn't anything fancy, but this definitely wasn't his idea of 'simple'. It was nutritionally balanced and visually attractive, and easily the most appetizing meal he'd had in weeks.
With their quiet murmurs of "Itadakimasu", they started with their meal, Fuji reaching for his salad first while Tezuka chose to begin with a taste of the miso soup.
Tezuka felt the day's exhaustion melt away as the warm soup seeped into his body and soul; savouring the aromatic waft from the katsuo and konbu broth rushing through his nostrils as the rich flavour of the miso filled his mouth, and the sweetness of the daikon lingering on his palate even after he had swallowed. Moments like this always reminded him of how deeply rooted he was despite having spent almost a decade overseas.
"I'm sorry you had to cancel the reservation, but I'm glad this happened instead," he said, a small smile playing on his lips, and took a second sip from the bowl.
Fuji chuckled. "Say that after you've had everything." Putting his salad bowl down, he picked up his bowl of miso soup and took a sip as well. He stole a glance at the man beside him, and felt a warm, happy tingle swell within him.
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After dinner, they rested their satisfied bellies over some variety programs on TV, before Fuji served dessert. As if time had flowed according to their pace, the clock turned twelve just as Fuji carefully placed the matcha tart he had made on the coffee table.
"Would you like that with coffee or tea, or white wine?" Fuji asked as he returned to the kitchen.
Tezuka looked at the green creamy tart presented before him, which reminded him of Fuji's taste for wasabi and briefly wondered if there was any in it. "May I have tea, please."
"Of course you may. The birthday boy can have anything he wants," Fuji answered with a smile as he retrieved two tea cups and a small glass teapot from the cabinet.
Fuji returned to the coffee table with a tray in his hands. Setting the tray down, he proceeded to skilfully cut and serve the tart, not forgetting to place a candle on Tezuka's slice. He lit the candle, and held the plate up, looking to Tezuka with a nervous smile. "Happy thirtieth, Kunimitsu."
Tezuka blew out the candle and lowered the plate on to the table, then leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss from his lover's lips. A smile formed on his own lips when he pulled back and saw the faint blush that had crept into Fuji's cheeks. He extended his left hand to gently cup Fuji's face, nuzzling his cheek with his thumb.
"Is something wrong? You look nervous."
Fuji's dropped his gaze to the tart. "I made that… from scratch. I hope you like it."
"You made this?" Tezuka couldn't help but ask as he took a closer look at the tart. Sitting neatly in the tart shell was a dark green layer of cream, followed by a thin layer of what looked like caramelized sliced almonds, and on top of that was another layer of cream in a lighter shade of green, with a finishing touch of icing sugar and glazed citrus peel. It looked like something store-bought.
What Fuji had made for dinner had already exceeded his expectations of a home-cooked meal, it didn't occur to him that Fuji could bake too.
"We make our own sweets at the cafe, but Kojirou's sister, who is a patissier, comes up with the recipes and teaches us how to make them. This is the first time I've made something without her help, and no one besides myself has tasted it, so…"
Without a second thought, Tezuka picked up a dessert fork.
Fuji diverted his attention to pouring tea, trying not to watch as Tezuka took a bite of his very first creation.
"It's delicious."
"Really?" Fuji's head snapped up, widened azure eyes staring at Tezuka intently.
Tezuka took another mouthful of the sweet treat and nodded, savouring the delicate flavours and textures. There was a perfect balance between the bitterness of the matcha, the mild savoury hint from the smooth lower layer, the sweet crunch of the caramelized almonds, and the light, fluffy semi-sweet mousse on top. The fruity aroma of the glazed citrus peel intertwined with the fragrance of the matcha left a sophisticated, fresh aftertaste.
"Are you going to serve this at your cafe?"
A warm smile stretched across Fuji's face as he looked at Tezuka, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "No, it's exclusively for you."
"You should have some, I can't finish this by myself."
"I shall," Fuji beamed, setting down a cup of tea in front of Tezuka, "This is bergamot and jasmine green tea. It should go well with the tart."
Tezuka took a sip from the cup, and was surprised by the aromatic harmony said tea had catalyzed. The warm earthy flavours blended seamlessly without shadowing the burst of sweet, citrusy zest, while the elegant scent of the jasmine blossomed and lingered.
He looked at Fuji and saw the same gleam of delight and pride in those bright blue eyes that he remembered seeing whenever Fuji displayed a newly perfected counter. The beautiful genius that he once knew had evolved into a stronger being, and was now showing him the new set of skills he had acquired in his absence.
Fuji could feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck rising as Tezuka's adoring gaze practically burned into his skin. He cut a slice of the tart for himself, and they enjoyed the bitter-sweet dessert in comfortable silence. After they were done, Fuji brought the dishes to the kitchen and came back to his spot adjacent to where Tezuka was seated, but Tezuka was still staring at him. Clearing his palate with a drink of tea, Fuji looked up to meet Tezuka's gaze.
Tezuka's heart skipped when cerulean eyes peered at him through honey brown bangs, but then Fuji broke out into a fit of suppressed laughter.
"Syuusuke…?"
"You have cream…," Fuji muttered between soft chuckles, reaching over to wipe away the smudge of mousse at the corner of Tezuka's lips with his fingers, "...here."
Fuji had the intention to lick the mousse off his fingers, but his silvery laughter died down when Tezuka caught his wrist. Azure eyes widened in surprise as Tezuka leaned forward and licked the cream off with the tip of his tongue, then sucked on his fingers lightly.
Holding Fuji's gaze, Tezuka extended his other hand to reach for Fuji's free hand. "Come here," he said softly as he gently tugged Fuji into his lap.
He caressed Fuji's face, and tucked the longer pieces of hair framing Fuji's face behind Fuji's ears. Tezuka then sat up to close the distance between them, claiming Fuji's lips in a slow, tender kiss. "Thank you for the wonderful evening."
"It's not over yet," Fuji whispered, gazing into deep hazel eyes as he maneuvered his body to straddle Tezuka's thighs, his hands cradling the other's handsome face. "Stay?"
Tezuka leaned back against the sofa, and felt Fuji's weight shift together with his movements. He rested his hands on Fuji's hips, feeling a strong desire igniting within him. "Are you sure? I have you in my lap now… we both know what's going to happen if I stay. If you need more time…"
Fuji smiled and tilted Tezuka's head back so that he could kiss him, playfully nibbling on his lower lip. "Did you honestly think I was going to ask you drive all the way to Chiba for dinner, and then let you drive back to Tokyo at this time of the night?" Fuji asked with a muffled chuckle and another kiss to Tezuka's lips. "I wouldn't have invited you over if I wasn't sure."
"You said that the birthday boy can have anything he wants. I want to have you," the bespectacled man mumbled against Fuji's lips, then trailed kisses down Fuji's slender neck, licking and nipping at the smooth skin. He pulled the other's hips down against his own, and felt Fuji's fingers gripping onto his shoulders. Placing his right hand over Fuji's chest, Tezuka looked up at his lover, feeling Fuji's heart thump against his palm at a hastened pace, noticing the delicate hue that had stained Fuji's cheeks.
"Syuusuke."
A shiver ran through Fuji's body. It had been such a long time, Fuji had forgotten what it felt like to be under that gaze. Tezuka was looking at him with such intense passion and desire in his eyes, Fuji found it hard to breathe. It felt strange; he was aware of the flow of things, yet a part of him was struggling to keep up, but at the same time, his body seemed to remember, and was responding to Tezuka as if in reflex.
Reaching a hand behind his head, Fuji tugged on the elastic band that held his hair together, pulling it off and letting the honey brown silken strands spill over his shoulders. Allowing his bodily instincts to take lead, Fuji pressed his weight down on Tezuka, grinding his hips and kissing his lover with lips, tongue and teeth, a soft mewl echoing into Tezuka's mouth. His heart raced when Tezuka responded with a quiet grunt, long fingers threading into his hair and pulling him closer, crushing their lips together messily.
"Take me to the room," Fuji whispered breathily in between kisses, already starting to feel a little light-headed, "...make me yours once more."
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(This section has been removed due to rating issues.)
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Tezuka took a sip of his coffee and a deep breath.
He had only had a couple hours of sleep, but his rigorously tuned body clock had dragged him out of slumber at daybreak. He had taken a few minutes to observe his lover's sleeping face, then quietly rolled out of bed to take a shower to freshen up. He stole another glance at his still snoozing lover, dropping a light kiss on the head of silken brown hair, before seeking for his morning dose of caffeine.
Mug of coffee in hand, Tezuka silently padded around the apartment, taking his time to observe the objects that gave away minute details of Fuji's life. The well-used kitchen, lived-in living room, and the study room, which he didn't get the chance to see last night. The study reminded him of Fuji's old room, cosily decorated with photos, his collection of cacti, books... and Fuji's desk, which was never empty, but was what Fuji called an organised mess.
It was about an hour later that Fuji awoke to a ray of sunlight in his eyes. He rolled over with a soft grunt of annoyance, only to find that the other side of the bed was empty. He drowsily got out of bed in search of Tezuka, finding him in his home office, dressed in the white tee shirt and black boxer briefs he had prepared, scrutinizing one of the photos he had framed up on the wall.
"Ohayou."
Hearing the voice, Tezuka whipped his head to the side to see Fuji leaning against the door frame, sleepy eyed, long tresses slightly ruffled from sleep, the white collared shirt that miraculously survived their fornication was on the verge of slipping from Fuji's smooth shoulders, completely unbuttoned and not offering a single thread of modesty. Tezuka's throat went dry, images of Fuji writhing under his body, head thrown back and hair fanned out over the pillow last night replaying in his head.
He walked over and sandwiched Fuji between the door frame and his body, craning his neck to join their lips together in a lazy but intimate kiss.
"Ohayou…" he whispered, admiring the delicate shade of pink that warmed up Fuji's face, the other's soft lips glossy from the kiss they just shared. His hands moved to button up Fuji's shirt halfway, for the sake of Fuji's modesty and his own sanity. "I used your shower and your coffee machine, and took a little tour around the apartment. I hope you don't mind."
Fuji shook his head lightly, running his hand up Tezuka's side, "I'm glad the clothes fit."
"I saw Francesca. She seems to have gotten a little bigger...?"
"She has," Fuji said with a soft chuckle, taking a quick glance at his prized collection of cacti on the window sill.
"And that photo of the Diamond Fuji…"
"It's the one we saw together. It's my favourite photo."
"I always looked at it whenever I felt homesick. I still have mine, in my room."
"Kunimitsu…" Fuji slid his palm up against Tezuka's cheek, staring into his lover's warm hazel eyes, wondering if he could have survived if he had been the one living overseas, alone. Thoughts and memories of the past twelve years ran through his mind, and his heart clenched. "There's something I want you to have."
Retrieving a brown cardboard box from the bottommost shelf beside his work desk, Fuji lightly dusted it off, before handing it to Tezuka with a solemn look on his face.
Tezuka took the box. It was about the size of the shoe box, and it wasn't too heavy. It didn't look like a birthday present, especially not with the expression Fuji was wearing now.
"May I open it?"
Fuji nodded, "Promise me you won't read the contents until you get home."
That piqued Tezuka's curiosity even more, but it wasn't a difficult promise to make. He nodded in agreement, and carefully opened the box, placing the cover on the desk.
The box was filled with envelopes and postcards. He took the first one out of the box, immediately recognizing it. It was the very first postcard he had sent to Fuji, twelve years ago, after he had settled down in his dorm room in London. Behind it was an envelope addressed to him, and behind that envelope was another postcard he remembered. The first New Year's card he had mailed that same year. And behind that New Year's card, there was another envelope with his name written in Fuji's neat handwriting. He ran his fingers through the cards and envelopes quickly, picking up on the chronological pattern. For every postcard he sent, there was at least one envelope lined up behind it. At some intervals there were three or four in between. And towards the end of the stack, there were no more postcards, only envelopes and more envelopes, some containing cards, some containing letters.
Tezuka looked at Fuji, his heart hammering loudly in his chest. When Fuji refused to look at him, he placed the box down on the desk and took Fuji's hands into his own, squeezing the slender hands as his emotions threatened to overflow.
"I could never muster the courage to send them. I know you were waiting for a reply, but I… I'm sorry. I'm such a coward."
To Fuji, sending the letters would have been admitting to his longing for Tezuka, his dependence on Tezuka's existence, and his inability to let go. He couldn't bring himself to do so, but Tezuka had been such an irreplaceable presence in his life, writing to Tezuka had ironically been his only escape and solace.
Tezuka wound his arms tightly around Fuji, holding him with all the strength he had.
'I don't think I can handle losing you a second time.'
'Make me yours once more.'
'It's been so long.'
'I don't want to wait any longer.'
Francesca, the Diamond Fuji, the box of letters, the bag of things… at that moment, the all pieces came together.
"I'm so sorry, Syuusuke… I said that I would always treasure you, but I never realised that all my intentions had brought you pain instead," Tezuka muttered into Fuji's hair, feeling a potent combination of guilt, regret, pain and inadequacy hit him like brick wall. He never felt like crying more. For so many years, he had thought that Fuji had moved on and didn't need him anymore, but Fuji had been waiting all this time. "I'm sorry…"
Fuji shook his head, nuzzling his face into Tezuka's chest, "I must have hurt you too. I'm sorry, Kunimitsu."
"I'm thankful we had a second chance." Tezuka pressed a gentle kiss to Fuji's forehead, then his nose, and finally his lips.
Fuji gazed up at Tezuka with a soft smile. "There's one more thing I have for you."
Tezuka loosened his hold on the smaller man, and Fuji turned to pull another envelope out of the drawer in his work desk. Tezuka's name was written in the same neat handwriting as on all the other envelopes in the box.
"This year's, to add to the box. You can read this one now if you want to."
Tezuka took the envelope from Fuji's hands and hesitated for a moment, before deciding to open it. Inside the ivory envelope was a card with an old photo of them printed on the front. It was taken at a park, both of them were wearing their Seigaku uniforms, looking somewhat awkward. They hadn't even started dating then, he had yet to realise his feelings for his friend and teammate, but it was one of those spur-of-the-moment things that Fuji did and he allowed.
Tezuka stole a quick look at Fuji, then opened the card.
Dear Kunimitsu,
Happy birthday.
I love you.
~Syuusuke
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end.
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Zabuton - A Japanese cushion generally used when sitting on the floor.
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Umm... I can't bake, so that matcha cream cheese tart Fuji made is completely imaginary. ^^;
If you haven't read the previous installments, this pair has a bit of a complicated past and they have some emotional baggage. So this is them ironing out the things they've never told each other, and getting to know each other as grown-ups. I'm very tempted to write Tezuka's side of the 12-year blank, but it'll probably be more complicated than Fuji's one-sided pining, so I'll leave that for another installment, another time.
Thank you for reading! :)