Title: Smile: Need Me

Author: Arithion

Disclaimer: If they were mine, the series wouldn't just be implied shonen-ai in certain bits… trust me... not mine

Rating: PG13

Genre: Angstish, bit of drama… um… yeah

Pairing: TezxFuji …

Chapter: Twenty-Nine

Summary: What's behind a smile…?

Warning: Well yes… bit of angsting, bit of ep 54, hints of analogies snuck in… shonen-ai… yeah…

Dedication: yuki_scorpio you evil person… sansillion because I still haven't thanked you enough!

Note: Please note, this fic has been finished for a long time, I just keep forgetting to upload it here as well as well as my LJ =x

But I'd like to thank everyone who's enjoying for taking the time to read

Smile: Need Me

Fuji still thought his ceiling could have at least tried to be a bit more interesting, but alas, it didn't seem to have made any particular effort. His body was still a little sore from the exertion Tezuka's climbing bout had put them through, but he didn't mind, because it was a good ache.

Swinging his legs around, Fuji looked at his watch as he sat up on his bed. The draw should be just about over now. Idly he wondered whom they'd be playing against in the first round of the Kantou Regional Tennis Tournament. Tezuka and Oishi had headed there after school, hence there was no tennis practice, and Tezuka wasn't at home with him. And that made Fuji feel… decidedly bored.

Pushing himself to his feet, he walked over to the window. He picked up a cati, running his fingers over it gently so as not to disturb the almost fluffy membrane that covered it. This one fascinated him, always had and probably always would. Idly, he wondered if he should name it, but then he frowned. He didn't really know anyone who was all fluffy on the outside and yet hid so many other different facets to his nature underneath.

And in a moment of pure denial, he refused to name the cacti after himself.

His fingers rested on the blinds, lifting an edge just to look outside, just to see, just to be doing something other than lying around almost wishing he had more homework because he didn't have anything better to do. A frown flitted across his face as Fuji realised that he was really becoming dependant on Tezuka for a lot of things. Maybe dependant was the wrong word, but it was just so much more comfortable around the older boy that Fuji missed that quiet presence when it wasn't there.

He wondered how Tezuka felt. Actually, Fuji wondered a lot of things. They were obviously more than friends now, obviously had a deep connection to each other, and well… had become rather close in more ways than one. Yet, Fuji didn't feel the need to throw himself on the other boy, it wasn't like that. He could easily spend hours in Tezuka's company and just enjoy being there. Not to say that he didn't enjoy the newer aspects of their friendship, but he didn't need them, well not technically.

Of course, maybe he was being slightly delusional. Still, he had to wonder if he was normal. Was it normal for people to have a connection like this? The fact that they were both boys was something that Fuji hadn't really thought about; the fact that they were attracted to each other overrode all else. The fact that they knew each other overrode that.

Fuji had never realised that knowing someone, allowing someone to know him back, could prove to be so rewarding. It was an amazing feeling to have someone you could share things with, an astounding feeling to know that someone else simply understood you without you needing to explain every tiny detail to them, and it simply felt good when that person knew how to make you relax and stop being an idiot about certain things. Most of all, it was really satisfying to be able to give the same back… or at least try to. Fuji wasn't sure just how successful he was at that though.

Somehow he wondered just when he'd taken that final step, finally let Tezuka in. And it was a scary realisation when Fuji finally understood that the older boy knew him sometimes better than he knew himself. Overall though, Fuji found himself not really minding, at least, not in the way he would have a few months ago.

The ringing of his phone permeated his thoughts. Fuji found himself not even needing to look at the display to answer it. "Tezuka…"

There was the usual hesitation on the other end as the other boy fought with his habitual silence. "Hyotei"

It was all Tezuka said, all he needed to say, and Fuji found himself taking quicker breaths, the anticipation of the match actually enticing him. "Luck of the draw…"

He could almost hear Tezuka laugh on the other end of the phone. "I'm…"

Still peering out of the window, Fuji smiled. "I know…" and he ended the call, heading out of his room to open the front door.

Tezuka looked a little drawn, a little fatigued when Fuji greeted him. It wasn't anything most people would notice. Just a crinkling around the eyes, a slight furrow to his brow, and the miniscule sag to his shoulders. There was enough for Fuji to see, and to be slightly annoyed at. The other boy just never seemed to set himself limits, never realised that he could give in and simply be human.

Frowning slightly, Fuji waited while Tezuka slipped his shoes on, glancing up the hallway, wondering what they could eat, because he was sure Tezuka would be hungry.

"Syusuke…"

Whipping his head back around, Fuji realised Tezuka was leaning an arm on the wall next to his head, and that Tezuka's face was close enough to touch. "Mmm?" was all he could respond, so strong was the urge to reach out and touch, to initiate something, but he knew, just knew that Tezuka needed to be in control right then.

Tennis was something the taller boy could control, his game was something he could direct right down to the smallest detail. He ran the tennis club efficiently and precisely. Yet, he had no influence over the draw that had them facing Hyotei in their first round. A school they should have by rights not have faced until the finals. So, Fuji gave in, trusting implicitly, knowing Tezuka simply needed.

The kiss brushed over his cheek first, lips soft and seeking, questioning and needing. Smaller kisses showered their way until Tezuka's mouth finally met his own, tongue asking permission almost immediately.

Fuji could feel the pent up frustration in the older boy that had nothing to do with the kiss. He could feel the raw need in Tezuka, the need to know that he still had some measure of control over his life, some measure of rationality. Fuji didn't feel like reminding the other boy that what they had wasn't exactly rational.

Tezuka's other hand travelled to fist in Fuji's hair, and the shorter boy rested his hands on Tezuka's waist. The space between them grew smaller and smaller, until there was barely enough room for air to squeeze between them. Fuji felt the sensations sweep through his body, not of need or lust, nor even of want; just of pure belonging.

No need existed for anything outside of it. A kiss that shared everything they had for each other; the knowledge they held, the sides of each other no one else had ever seen. It was all there, taken by each, stored away by the other and only ever kept between them.

It took a while, a long while, with neither of them wanting to stop. Breath grew short and was only regained in very brief breaks, which were really more akin to simply breathing in the other. Tender exploration of each others mouths, accompanied by gentle hands that comforted softly; none of it hurried, none of it forced and none of it wrong.

This was right, this was comfortable, this was understanding; this was them.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, they finally broke apart, Tezuka leaning his forehead against Fuji's, arms on either side of the other's head. Breath came in short gasps to each of them, while they regained it, eyes locked onto each other; drawing out concerns, and questions and promising answers as soon as was possible.

Some would say they walked to the kitchen in silence, but to them, it was normal, warm and all they ever needed.

Fuji motioned Tezuka to sit down, and fetched a packet from one of the cabinets, as well as a glass of water. Sitting them down in front of Tezuka, Fuji walked over to the fridge to start pulling out something light to eat, knowing that neither of them was particularly hungry. Without a glance back at the older boy, Fuji sighed. "Stop looking at me like that, and take the tablets. That headache isn't going away on it's own."

Fuji could almost see the raised eyebrow Tezuka shot him, and the question hung in the air waiting for him to answer it. Back still to his friend as he made them a simple dinner, he decided he would answer it. "Your brow. Always furrows in a different way when you have a headache."

There was an almost audible oh from Tezuka, but not quite.

With a sigh, Fuji placed a plate in front of his friend, realising just why the other seemed disgruntled. Headaches were a form of weakness he guessed, and Tezuka hated to show weakness as much as he himself did. That Fuji could see when Tezuka had a headache might mean that Tezuka had let him get too close.

Looking up from his own plate, Fuji frowned at the taller boy. "We'll be fine."

"I know…" It's just that this means Hyotei will not compete in the rest of the tournament, and by rights they should. It's a good school.

Fuji didn't need for Tezuka to speak the last part out loud, simply because it was true. Hyotei was their rival, an excellent tennis club, who really deserved to make it to the finals. Being under no delusions that the matches would be easy, Fuji didn't doubt that they would make it to the finals. This meant Seigaku would have to beat Hyotei, which meant that one of the better schools wouldn't advance, simply because of their beginning opponent.

All in all, it seemed rather unfair in the long run. Swallowing his first mouthful, Fuji locked eyes with Tezuka, trying to show his friend that he wasn't alone in his thoughts. "Survival of the fittest, Tezuka."

He could see the reluctance on the older boy's face, the reluctance to accept that he had to destroy the hopes of another team that deserved to make it further into the tournament. With a shake of his head, Fuji pointed a chopstick at his friend. "Don't do it, Tezuka."

"Do what?" The older boy's voice sounded decidedly tired, almost as if he was on the verge of just wanting to give up, to sleep it all off.

Despite the fact that a part of Fuji rejoiced that Tezuka seemed to actually want to give into the part of himself that he hid so much, Fuji knew it wasn't a good thing, and so continued. "Don't try and wring blood from the stone, because we both know it's impossible."

Tezuka raised an eyebrow again, but this time Fuji could almost see a twitch to the other boy's lips, that slight little quirk, an almost smile. It encouraged Fuji to continue. "Remember what you told me about fishing."

"Patience… and acceptance of a situation over which one has little or no control."

Those shoulders sagged just that little bit more, almost as in the acceptance of what it was Fuji was saying, and Tezuka nodded before answering. "I respect them."

Fuji shrugged. "Respect is well earned, and has its place in a good game, but there can only be one winner."

Tezuka's eyes narrowed slightly, his lips hardening into a straight line. "There will only be one winner."

Fuji just smiled, and continued to eat his dinner. Tezuka had a goal, a dream, and a driving purpose. They were three things Fuji never wanted the taller boy to lose, because if Tezuka lost them, Fuji wasn't sure if he'd be able to pick up the pieces that were left. To be honest, he wasn't even sure there would be pieces to pick up. He'd just have to make sure, he never needed to find out.

For now, he'd be where he'd always been, where he was comfortable being. He'd be there for Tezuka whenever and however he could. If the other needed words to help him understand, Fuji would find a way to do so. If he needed a break, to be reminded of what it was like to be the child that he was and forget about the adult responsibilities people seemed to expect of him, then Fuji would provide that break.

Because Fuji had just realised one thing. A life without Tezuka was possible, because everything was possible in the long run. However, a life without his best friend in it was no longer one he would look forward to. And he'd really just realised; apparently once you let someone in, you'd do everything to keep them there, because being alone would just never be the same again.

~~**~~

Well, there we go… Chapter was soooo not supposed to be like this. Blame Yuki…

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