Author's note: Chapter 5, sorry it took so long.. school started… Beware the sap.
To CelicaChick & tsukihime: The canals are polluted!? Oh well... pretend its sparkling for my fic?
To RoYale: I doubt so, too! But my Fuji-muse wouldn't let me off, he was bent on torturing my Tezuka-muse… (okay, that didn't make any sense…)
To Maria-chan and Wolfepaws: u guys rock! Thanks for reviewing all e chappies.
Chapter 5: Dinner and confessions?
"Ah-choo!" Fuji sneezed for what seemed like the forth time in the last five minutes. Sniffling slightly, Fuji rubbed an already-soddened tissue against his red nose. He hated to admit it, but he had in fact caught a cold just like Tezuka had predicted. Wrinkling up his nose, he sighed in disappointment as his gaze caught the face of the clock on the mantelpiece.
6.30 pm, the clock read.
With utmost effort, Fuji dragged himself up from the comfy couch in his living room and went to call Tezuka. It looked like a candlelight dinner was just not going to be on the cards today.
"Moshi-moshi"
" Tezuka? sniffle This is Fuji.."
"You've caught a cold, I presume."
"Right. Sorry.. I dont think I can make it to dinner.. AT-CHOO!"
"All right then. Ja."
"sniffleJa."
Returning the tennis-racquet shaped phone receiver back to its original position, Fuji exhaled heavily. He couldn't believe what bad luck he had. Just when he could have a nice dinner with his buchou after seemingly endless waiting of five years, he had to go and fall ill. Cursing his weak immune system, Fuji slumped back into the couch, completely neglecting his hunger and shut his eyes tiredly.
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Tezuka hung up the phone, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt tug at his heartstrings. After all, it was he who had caused Fuji to be in this state. Looking at the piece of paper propped up against his coffee table, on which Fuji had scrawled his address, Tezuka made a momentous and very un-buchou like decision to go over to Fuji's house to cook dinner for his sick friend. However, one peek into his kitchen told him he probably didn't have any ingredients to cook a decent dinner. (He highly doubted that micro waved packages and instant noodles would be particularly healthy for someone ill.) Grabbing his car-keys, Tezuka made a quick stop-over at the supermarket in town.
Scanning row after row of food, Tezuka felt exactly like the role of a doting house-wife cooking for her husband. Furthermore, the wide array of colourful packaging and sizes were making his eyes ache. Grabbing the ingredients he needed, Tezuka ran towards the cashier, as far away from the shelves as possible. Funny how his eyes could focus on inhumanely-quick tennis balls, but not on chicken and the like.
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"Ring-ring."
The insistent ringing of the doorbell roused Fuji up from the depths of his slumber, as he rubbed his eyes blearily. Dragging himself up, he shuffled to the door and opened it, allowing his eyes to focus. Fuji belatedly realized that the brown fuzz standing at the doorstep was Tezuka, and his eyes shot open in sheer astonishment.
"Tezuka? What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to make you dinner." Tezuka replied. His brows furrowed as he took in Fuji's pallor and red nose. Unfortunately, his lip started twitching.
"What?" Fuji replied, looking curiously at the buchou's unreadable expression.
"You look like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer." Tezuka stated simply, taking all of his willpower not to break out in a grin.
Fuji stuck out his tongue and glowered at Tezuka dangerously, before reaching out to help Tezuka with his plastic bags of food. He plonked them down onto the kitchen table, before gesturing airily to Tezuka.
"So, the kitchen is all yours. I expect to be served in not more than half an hour, my chef. And don't forget to use the apron that is hanging on the fridge. Wouldn't want you to get your clothes dirty, now."
Tezuka sighed as he watched Fuji stride back to the living room to lie on the couch. He had to admit he deserved it. Searching for the apron, he was horrified to see that it was a bright pink one with frilly edges. Shuddering in distaste, Tezuka called out,
"Fuji, is there another apron in your house?"
"zzz…"
He was greeted by Fuji's gentle snoring. Unable to tell whether the snoring was genuine or false, though he suspected the latter, Tezuka put on the apron with a sigh of defeat. He then put the pan on the stove and started slicing up the vegetables and chicken.
When the two plates of food were finally ready, Tezuka decided to set the table for two. He might not have had a romantic bone in his body, but he did want to please the sick tensai. Placing two white floating candles he had bought earlier into a bowl of water, he placed it in the centre of the table, followed by a vase of tulips. Dimming the lights, he put Beethoven's CD in the stereo and then went to wake the tensai up.
Walking over to the couch, Tezuka took a closer look at Fuji's face. The other looked so peaceful, the very image of an angel from heaven. The white oversized shirt Fuji was wearing hung loosely on his lithe frame, revealing one bare shoulder and endless expense of the tensai's neck. Tezuka felt his face reddening, and found himself shaking Fuji rather violently to resist the urge to stroke the other's cheek.
"Ow..Tezuka! I'm awake. Stop shaking me!" a clueless Fuji protested feebly.
"Sorry… but dinner's ready…" Tezuka muttered, pointing at the table he had set up.
"Aww… you prepared all this for me? You surprise me, Tezuka… by the way, you do look adorable in that apron." Fuji said, shooting a fond smile at Tezuka.
Tezuka hurriedly removed the apron that he was still wearing, glaring at Fuji.
"Chicken cacciatore? I didn't know you knew how to prepare Italian food. Smells nice.." Fuji inhaled deeply.
"Dig in then."
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Once dinner was finished and the plates were washed, Tezuka felt relieved that the meal wasn't all that bad, and Fuji seemed to have enjoyed it. Suddenly, he realized that the tensai was standing by himself in the living room, seemingly for no reason. Puzzled, Tezuka stepped closer to find out what was wrong with Fuji. Perhaps the tensai was feeling sick again. Unfortunately, the darkness meant that Tezuka failed to catch the glint Fuji's eye.
One step. Two steps.
"Fuji. Daijoubu?"
In one swift motion, before Tezuka could react, Fuji had captured both of his arms and pinned him forcefully against the wall. Fuji tiptoed and whispered into his ear,
"Tezuka buchou, will you dance with me?"
"Fuji, I have two left feet."
"No you don't. The movements in Tezuka zone look like dance steps to me.." Fuji chuckled.
"Fuji, those aren't dance steps."
"Saa… there're all steps, aren't they. Come on, please?" Fuji gazed up at the buchou, smiling radiantly.
"Okay, okay…" Tezuka agreed grudgingly. He suddenly regretted putting damned Beethoven on the stereo.
Dragged to the middle of the spacious living room, Tezuka stood there awkwardly, before Fuji stepped up to him and guided his hands.
"Here. You put your hands here, like this.."
Tezuka's hands were guided to Fuji's slim waist, whereas Fuji slipped his arms around Tezuka's broad shoulders.
Slowly, they moved to the slow and rhythmic melody of Beethoven's music. Tezuka gazed deeply into Fuji's blue eyes. Somehow, he felt entranced by them, as if he was sinking into oceans with endless depths, further and further. Until it was too late.
Subconciously, he pressed himself closer to the tensai, until their bodies were completely moulded, and he felt Fuji doing the same. Lifting one hand from its placement at Fuji's waist, Tezuka rested it gently on Fuji's cheek, and traced one finger along Fuji's jawline until it met the edge of Fuji's lips. Tezuka felt Fuji entangle one hand into his hair and the other clutching his shirt tightly as he bent down to replace his finger on Fuji's lips by his own lips.
At first the kiss was slow and sweet, but it got increasingly heated as both Fuji and Tezuka put five years worth of yearning and passion into it. Slowly, Tezuka probed at Fuji's lips with his tongue, effectively causing the tensai to moan and part his lips. Gaining entrance to the other's mouth, Tezuka let his tongue linger upon Fuji's, entwining together, unable to get enough of the other. Both of them wanted much more, so much more.
The duo broke apart when the need to breathe arose. Panting hard, Fuji reluctantly separated his mouth from Tezuka, but remained in the warm embrace nonetheless. Glancing up at Tezuka, Fuji took a chance and said the words he meant to convey years ago.
"Tezuka, you might not know this, but I've been in love with you ever since I first laid my eyes upon you the first day we both joined the tennis club. After that, we laid the foundation of friendship, and never once did I allow myself to reveal my innermost feelings to anyone. I thought I could forget about you, but I could not. When you left for Germany, you broke my heart. I've been thinking about you for the past six years. So if this is just a one-time thing, please tell me now so we can stop and I can move on with my life again."
Tezuka looked at Fuji seriously. He was never good at expressing himself, but if there ever was going to be a crucial moment in his life where he would really need his communication skills, this was it.
"Fuji, this is not a one-time thing, it will never be. I, too, have been enthralled by you ever since middle school. I never told you, because I feared it would not only make you hate me, but jeopardize our friendship in the process. I remained single all these years, because there isn't another human being on earth who can match up to your smile, or your soul. Heck, I even have a bear named Fuji on my bed, just so I could remember you even in my dreams. I'm not going to run away from it anymore. Fuji, I love you."
-----To be continued------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hee.. not a very good place to stop… the next 1-2 chap will be the end. Should I write the smut?? Haha… review please!!
