Putting Out Fires

AU, TezukaFuji/ Fuji learns the hard way that it's probably not smart to give Tezuka detention.

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A/N: I'd originally planned to have this chapter up by yesterday, but it didn't work out, so here it is today! I'm really proud of this installment, so I hope you guys enjoy it too. Thanks and lots of love to everyone who reviewed, seriously, you guys are so the best haha. I'm absolutely floored by the response this little fiction of mine is getting.

On a random note, if anyone has anything to say about this, I'd love to hear what you think: do you like the tension between Atobe and Fuji here in Fires, or Lost Fantasies? I'm just kind of experimenting with different elements of tension here...or is there even a difference? 0.o


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If Yuuta had any inkling what was going on, he didn't let it show. He came home, and seemed to accept Fuji's explanation that it was just a passing spell of sorts and he was feeling better now. He had hastily refused Yuuta's tentative suggestion to have Shiraishi over for dinner again saying that he had already troubled the man enough throughout his day.

Yuuta just looked very wise about nothing at all, and permitted his older brother to rest until dinner. Which was very restful, until Fuji heard the doorbell rang. His first instinct was to hide, in case Tezuka found enough nerve to trespass his sanctuary again, but the person that walked—sauntered in the room was none other than--

"You're worrying your mother half sick, Syusuke."

Fuji looked around for something hard to throw, but unfortunately, couldn't find anything. He sighed, feeling the veins in his forehead prickle. "She's practically adopted you, why should I matter?"

Atobe Keigo was only a few months younger than he was, they were born in the same year. Fuji's birthday was in February, and Atobe's birthday was in October, the few months that Fuji had ahead of Atobe gave his slightly younger cousin an inferiority complex in almost everything else, and he strove to be better than Fuji in every other thing conceivable.

And he had largely succeeded. Atobe too, had attended Todai, but beyond that, he had studied abroad in Yale and Columbia respectively, graduated early, and now stood poised to take over one of the largest corporations in Japan, the said corporation even had his name on it: Atobe Enterprises.

Yet he still found time to come and be a nuisance. Yuuta shot Fuji an apologetic look when Atobe wasn't looking and began a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

"Doesn't change the fact that she's your mother."

Fuji put down his book. "That doesn't mean anything."

Atobe said, "This is not like you."

"Then what's like me?" Despite himself, he was suddenly angry, "You can't just waltz in here and tell me that! Okay, fine, so you've become my mother's dog. So what?" His voice rose one hysteric notch, "It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter, okay? Just get the hell out of here before I call the police on you!"

Threateningly, he reached for the house phone.

He hadn't gone through so much already, with Shiraishi, with Tezuka, he couldn't handle Atobe, nor did he want to.

Atobe looked like he didn't know what to do with himself. He did one thing, though, to infuriate Fuji further—he refused to look chastised. Even though he should be.

"Fuji--"

"Get out." Fuji said, trying very hard to keep his voice from wavering, "Just get out. I don't want to talk to you."

This time, Atobe's face looked like a hurt puppy, and he moped out. For someone as imposing as Atobe Keigo, it was funny, really. But somehow, Fuji couldn't quite trust himself to laugh.

A few seconds later, the door to the house slammed, and Fuji got up and went to his bedroom.

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"Aniki...?" It was a little later, that Yuuta eventually worked up the courage to peek into his brother's bedroom. The older Fuji was lying flat on his bed, on his stomach, idly his phone on. And off.

Yuuta hesitated. He didn't have to be a genius to figure out that Fuji was genuinely upset. And when Fuji was genuinely upset...it was usually a better course of action to leave him alone until he came to—but this was different, usually, it wasn't Atobe at the heart of the moodswings, all Yuuta really knew was the fact that Fuji had an intense, innate hatred when it came to their showy cousin.

Well, Yuuta himself didn't really mind Atobe so much...but it always came to it that he was much, much too loyal to his older brother.

"Aniki, are you okay?"

There was a long pause, and then, Fuji's voice, muffled by a pillow he was holding, informed Yuuta, "I'm pissed off." It was an inelegant answer, very much unlike his brother, but Yuuta supposed everyone had to eventually let their hair down.

"I'm sorry." He said, feeling very awkward and guilty all at once, I shouldn't have let him in...I..."

"Yuuta, it wasn't your fault." Fuji said, just as tonelessly, "Stop it."

After a few more ginger steps, Yuuta found himself at the foot of the bed, and lowered himself down on the edge, eyes fixed on the still lump for any sign that he shouldn't be.

"...But I made you upset."

"Atobe made me upset." Fuji corrected dully.

"Aniki--"

"Just stop it, okay?"

It was almost like a proverbial slap in the face, but Yuuta held still. It was certainly not the first time, and almost certainly, not the last. So he did what he always did, Yuuta laid a hand gently on his brother's shoulder, and counted silently to five.

Then he stood up.

"Dinner's still on the stove if you want anything." Yuuta paused again, "I think I might be going out."

"With who?"

Whenever Fuji asked him that, it made Yuuta blush, he wasn't sure why, but he rubbed at his cheeks and shrugged. "No one in particular. I just feel like going. Would you mind?"

"No." But Fuji did raised his head to look at him, "Will you be back before eleven?"

"Don't you think I'm a little too old for curfew?" Yuuta had to grin, just a little.

Fuji laughed, but it was a laugh that sent chills up Yuuta's spine. "No, I'm just asking. Being around high schoolers all day does that to me...if you're staying out, remember to take your keys with you. I'm probably going to sleep early. That's all."

"Oh, okay." Yuuta smiled at him, "...Well, I'll see you later, or tomorrow. Maybe. Feel better, alright?"

"Mm."

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It never did occur to Fuji that he didn't know how to be alone. Perhaps it was because he was with people all the time, so he had most ultimately failed to notice anything, but the house suddenly seemed much too quiet sans Yuuta, and the dining room table seemed all at once, too big for one person.

To remedy that, Fuji carried his bowl of curry into the living and settled on the couch. He flipped through channels twice before coming to the inevitable conclusion that there was nothing interesting running.

He ate slowly though, in no hurry. The curry was spicy enough to leave a faint burn in the back of his throat, Fuji usually liked his curry this way, and was gratified that Yuuta bothered enough to make it just the way he liked.

And his phone rang. Fuji fished the device from his pocket and stared at it for a long time.

The simple text read:

Miss me yet? 7:37 pm

It angered him. But Fuji wasn't exactly sure what it was. It could have been too many things that it couldn't be. The source of his anger could have been easily just Tezuka, and his impudence.

But...

Almost just as easily, Fuji realized that his anger might have stemmed from that warm feeling kindling in his chest, a warmth that was spreading all too quickly to paint his cheeks.

No. 7:41 pm

Fuji was about to go back to the kitchen with his empty bowl when his phone buzzed irritatingly at him. As if scolding him for leaving.

I bet you're thinking about me. 7:43 pm

The comment sent a spark of irritation through Fuji's whole system. There was just something irrecoverably wrong with Tezuka texting him something like that. As if the boy just knew without any doubt whatsoever, that it was true.

His mind immediately drifted to Tezuka lunged out on some couch, smoking a cigarette, and of course, Echizen Ryoma had to be nearby wearing his satisfied little smirk.

Fuji's fingers pounded on the keys, as if the keys themselves could somehow be blamed for the anger he was feeling.

Tezuka beat him to it. Fuji's phone rang mockingly at him. And Tezuka's number, though still a number that wasn't saved, and a number that he didn't know by memory...was quickly becoming a number that was too familiar.

He snapped open his phone, meaning business, but when Fuji held up the phone to his ear, Tezuka said:

"So you do miss me." And for some frightening reason, Tezuka didn't sound condescending at all, "I was almost afraid that you wouldn't."

It was a admission that shouldn't have had the ability to make Fuji's spine crawl the way it did. But it did. That angered him, and Fuji bit hard through his tongue, silence certainly was the best policy when one was at a loss for words.

Undeterred, Tezuka tried again, "Sensei, I made you angry again, didn't I?"

Still, Fuji refused to say anything. He thought his tongue was bleeding.

"You can yell, if you'd like."

Now, that made the back of his eyes burn. If Tezuka really meant to rile him, the boy had largely succeeded, in doing that—and something else. His eyes welled, and Fuji got up to get a wad of tissues, now he didn't speak, because he was afraid that his voice would betray him.

"...Sensei?"

Fuji swallowed hard. Quite inconveniently, he remembered how Tezuka's arms had felt around him, and dabbed his eyes roughly with the tissue.

"Tezuka-kun, why do you do this to me?" Fuji knew his words were uneven, but he knew, at the very least, that his voice had not been shaking when he spoke.

For a moment, the other end of the line was silent. After sometime, Tezuka offered the most excruciatingly tender voice that he could manage, the voice alone, made Fuji eyes want to leak rivers. He went blindly groping for some more tissue.

"You sound tired. Get some sleep."

And that was all.

-

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Even though he was only fifteen years old, Echizen Ryoma prided himself on knowing a lot of things. Even things that he didn't want to know, like how Tezuka Kunimitsu had changed.

Sure, his boyfriend was seventeen, an age that still seemed far away to Ryoma. He knew, that sometimes he was immature, and...sometimes he couldn't live up to the many expectations that Tezuka had of him. Ryoma was aware, too, that there was a price when you hung on Tezuka Kunimitsu's arm.

No matter if he thought you were an adorable brat. Ryoma was smart enough to know that he wasn't the only one capable of taking the part of a spoiled brat. There were most certainly others.

And also possibly others that enjoyed the same privileges that he did. This annoyed him, irritation came before worry. Because the changes that had somehow managed to manifest themselves in Tezuka were just that, small, and irritating.

Like how Tezuka used to look at him when he entered his boyfriend's bedroom, now he just stared at the ceiling. Not that it really mattered, it wasn't like Tezuka ignored him for a long period of time or something like that. Ryoma was smart enough to know how to make himself known.

"What are you thinking about?"

Tezuka didn't seem to mind it when Ryoma crawled over his body to get to the empty side of the bed. It bugged him—just a little, that Tezuka hadn't seemed to note it, either.

It was only when Ryoma put his hand on Tezuka's cheek did the older boy turn.

"Is Grandfather home?"

Ryoma concentrated on tucking a stray strand of hair behind Tezuka's ear, "You're the one that told me he's not going to be home tonight."

There was a delayed pause, and Tezuka said, "...I forgot."

Ryoma made a sound, sort of like a snort, but his olive eyes were dark. "Sure."

"I did. You know I'm getting old." Tezuka insisted quietly, as his eyes came around to snake around Ryoma's waist. Usually this calmed him, but tonight, this simple act of intimacy unsettled the younger boy. But as usual, in front of Tezuka, who he loved more than anyone else in the world...he kept still.