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FIC: Ten Days || Making Room [Prince of Tennis; Fuji/Kaidoh]
Title: Ten Days (Alt Title: Making Room)
Fandom: Prince of tennis
Characters/Pairing: Fuji x Kaidoh
Rating: PG-13 ish
Summary: Ten days to display the progression of Fuji and Kaidoh's relationship as it grows, moment to moment.
Apartment series: Ten Days || Figure || Fortnight || Corrective Measures
01.
Fuji and Kaidoh were not really friends. Team mates, comrades in arms ready to defend to the last... so far as tennis was concerned, and sometimes - off and on - the more personal things because neither Fuji nor Kaidoh would stand for anyone attacking their siblings. Sempai and kohai, quite naturally, but not really friends.
So, to those that knew them, there would have been some surprise to see the two of them sitting together in the restaurant over coffee. Fuji was thinking that it was strange for Kaidoh to call him out, too. Even though they'd gone through high school together, Kaidoh's infrequent contact had led Fuji to believe their relationship had dwindled to something near acquaintances.
"I'm going to college, Fuji-sempai," Kaidoh started. "To study English and become a teacher... or a translator."
"I've heard," Fuji told him.
"And you have a contract as a professional tennis player," Kaidoh continued. The awe in his voice was very slight; there, but whatever he was here to talk about was taking precedence. "How is that looking for you?"
"It seems I will be traveling much more than I'd thought," he replied. "It's not a problem though. I'll be staying with my parents when in Japan."
"Sounds troublesome for your family," Kaidoh said, a bit too casually as his fingers fidgeted around the curve of his cup, "to have you coming and going without much of a set schedule. Do tournaments allow you to be home for holidays?"
Fuji's eyes narrowed. Kaidoh had pinpointed one of his own concerns; his schedule would be unpredictable and he would probably be coming home at unlikable hours. "Sometimes. It would depend on my participation. Tournaments do happen during holidays, and travel takes time."
"Of course." Kaidoh, who had thus far been avoiding Fuji's gaze, looked at Fuji through his bangs - shy was an oddly good look for him. "I'm going to a university that's further from home than I'd like, and I need a place to stay."
"Are you asking if you can live at my family's house?" Fuji's brows wrinkled. "I can't be much closer to the university than you."
"That's not what I'm asking," Kaidoh said, and he reached into his bag for a slip of paper. "I've already got an apartment in mind. Two bedroom, kitchen, bath, and other stuff. But it's too expensive for just me to handle, and no single person flats are available in the area."
"So..."
"So, I need a room mate. And I thought... I thought it might be nice for you to be able to come back to Japan without..." Fuji could tell that Kaidoh was trying to choose his words carefully, "-without having to worry."
"I don't start my training until after the school year begins," Fuji ventured. His eyes were on the apartment advertisement. The idea of moving out of his family's home was sorely tempting.
"We could try it for a few months." Kaidoh's fingers were fiddling with the cup again, flitting over the handle, circling the lip... "See what it'd be like."
Fuji took a long drink from his coffee as he thought. University life cost money, so that was no doubt Kaidoh's motivation. Rooming with a well-paid (because he would be and he had the skill to make it happen) tennis player had it's obvious advantages. What he would get out of the deal was far less clear, but...
"For a few months," Fuji finally agreed. Kaidoh visibly relaxed. "But to get me to stay, you'll have to make it worth my while."
"Yes, sempai," Kaidoh intoned. "I'll be sure to do that."
02.
Kaidoh was a very tidy homemaker. Obsessively so. He straightened everything Fuji touched and cleaned after their every meal (even when most of it was take out) though they didn't often have the chance to eat together. Fuji felt like he was going mad, and it had only been two weeks. If this was Kaidoh's twisted way of telling Fuji that he would be a perfect room mate that took care of everything, he was going to put a stop to it today.
"Here, Fuji-sempai." Kaidoh reached for Fuji's plate, but the tennis player scooted it out reach. "Fuji-sempai..."
Another reach. This time, Fuji took it away completely and felt some perverse pleasure in seeing Kaidoh's face twist when he set it on a far table.
"Is there something wrong?"
Fuji crossed his arms. "Yes."
"Oh." A beat as Kaidoh adjusted to the news. "Is it something I can fix?"
Hm.... "For now, this plate is staying here."
For some reason, he'd been expecting Kaidoh to back down, but apparently, being room mates ("sempai" or no) put them on even ground. Kaidoh strode up and grabbed the plate with a strangled glare in Fuji's direction.
"Letting it sit is wasteful, Fuji-sempai," Kaidoh said firmly as he went straight to the kitchen. "I won't have enough time to do this once school starts, but I'll clean when I have the time."
Following, Fuji watched as Kaidoh's hands worked beneath the water. "I thought you were doing this just to make up for coercing me into this situation."
"Is it enough?" Kaidoh asked. He was carefully not watching for Fuji's reaction. "You're not getting much out of this deal, I know, so I'd like to do what I can to convince you that this is a good thing. There's no saying that your schedule will be any less troublesome for me than it is for your family, but because I asked for your help, I'll have no room to argue."
"Is that how it is?" Fuji smiled. "Kaidoh-kun is surprisingly manipulative."
There was a curve tugging at the corner of Kaidoh's mouth. "Ah. I suppose I had a good teacher, sempai."
03.
"Welcome home."
It was something near three in the morning and Kaidoh had opened the door before Fuji could unlock it. He looked tired, but he handed a cup of tea to Fuji after he'd toed off his shoes in the doorway.
"Are you hungry?"
Fuji savored the heat of the drink. Winter had settled in Japan. "I ate on the plane."
"Ah, well, don't mind me," Kaidoh said, moving back to his books - scattered as usual across the dining room table. "I'll be up a little longer."
Their apartment seemed no different than when he'd left it. Things he'd left had been only slightly moved - a book he'd dropped to the couch sported a second bookmark near the beginning, some of his clothes were drying side-by-side with Kaidoh's in a corner near the heater - and the evidence of their increasingly meshed lives crossed within this place.
Fuji found too much food in the kitchen. Groceries on the counter. Home made goods in the fridge. Short stacks of bentos. A raspberry pie long-cooled on the stove top. He leaned out of the kitchen and peeked at Kaidoh's back.
"Were you bored while I was gone?"
"Our parents stopped by today," Kaidoh explained, leaning back in his chair to look at Fuji. "Your mom baked the pie. Mine brought the bentos. They get along a little too well, I think."
That explained the rest of the baking.
"Well. I was never one to turn down pie."
04.
Fuji had given Kaidoh an emergency cell number so that the other man could reach him in case of emergencies. The first few days he spent in Florida was great, but every time he returned to his hotel, he checked the front desk for messages as if he expected to hear from Kaidoh. Always were the small messages from family and friends - just wishing you luck, from Yuuta; see you on the courts, from Ryoma; I'll be watching, from Inui - but nothing from Kaidoh, at neither the desk nor on the cell phone.
It made him nervous. He worried. Perhaps Kaidoh hadn't been able to call because he had been the one injured. But no, surely Kaidoh's mother would call...or was she too concerned over her son? But then, his mother, of course... Of course, she would be considerate to his tennis, foremost. He couldn't keep himself from imagining Kaidoh in a hospital bed in some Tokyo hospital and himself, unable to know for sure if the thought had foundation.
Still, the cell phone remained eerily silent through the rest of the week.
"Mr. Fuji," the voice of the attendant at the front desk was too cheerful through the receiver. "You have a call from Tokyo, Japan. Would you like to accept?"
Fuji rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. 22:17 glowed at him. "Who is it?"
"A Mr. Kaoru Kaidoh, sir." Her speech fairly butchered the name.
"I'll take the call, but none for the rest of the night, please." A quiet "yes, sir," and it was gruff silence for a moment. "How are things, Kaidoh?"
"Ah, fine. I guess. Inui-sempai called me to say that your game was not up to your usual standards during the preliminaries." Fuji could hear Kaidoh working out how the rest of their conversation might go. "Is there anything wrong? I noticed your left your golden racket here. Do I need to send it over?" Now, he was almost amused.
"Not at all," Fuji said. He was smiling; it felt as if it had been too long since he'd done it last. "I was just...preoccupied. The other competitors weren't enough to keep me focused this week, so my mind kept wandering."
"Oh."
"It's not really a problem, but do you think you could tell me how your week has been?"
"Are you sure you're okay, Fuji-sempai?" Kaidoh asked. "You sound odd."
"I'm sure," Fuji said. "I just feel homesick suddenly."
"I'll call again next week, then, just in case," Kaidoh promised before sighing into the receiver. "The university will be hosting a fair by the local high school next week. It'll be over by the time you get back, but my art class is having us contribute-"
Fuji nodded off in the middle of Kaidoh's explanation. He remembered face paints and culture dances, but not much else beyond the deep whisper of a voice in his ear. When it waxed silent, Fuji roused just enough to hear Kaidoh breathe a chuckle.
"Goodnight, Fuji-sempai."
05.
"I need to get out of here," Fuji declared as he drew the curtain aside to look at the crowd of journalists and photographers loitering outside the gates that led to their apartment building. A camera flashed in his direction; the rest followed, as if by instinct, and he dropped the curtain. "You should stay, though."
Behind him, Kaidoh was slowly tapping out a book report on his laptop, not quite paying attention to what he was writing. He hmmed and Fuji could feel Kaidoh looking at him.
Fuji fidgeted with the hem of the curtain, a little tempted to keep looking at the reporters and letting them take as many pictures of him as they wanted - pictures of him and his apartment, him and his rackets, him and his... his room mate. "I don't think they've realized we both live here."
"Yet." Kaidoh sighed, resumed some quick typing. "Not all of them will disappear when you go on your next trip. They'll find out we live together sooner or later. Why should it interfere?" A few more taps. "Although, it could be a problem."
Fuji stuck a bit of his hair in his mouth - a horrible habit that Kaidoh had been trying to rid him of - and sucked on the tips as he stared down at the cameras that flashed up at him. "They'll make a scandal out of the situation," Fuji agreed. "Homosexual tennis love affair or something. That sells magazines these days, right?"
The typing had stopped altogether now. "Are you afraid that kind of thing will ruin your reputation, Fuji?"
"Not so much as you might think," was the reply. "My manager will probably get a thrill out of it. She's supports that kind of thing. It could be fun, for a little bit." Fuji glanced back at Kaidoh and saw him leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "What about you, Kaidoh? Would it cause trouble for you?"
Kaidoh paused. "Mom wouldn't like it. She wants grandchildren badly, so she'd probably freak out. And Dad..." The legs of his chair snapped back against the floor; his hands braced himself against the edge of the table.
He wasn't sure how he could tell - whether it was a natural thing he'd learned over time, or if it was just knowing, suddenly, in a flash of understanding - but he knew that Kaidoh was making excuses. When Kaidoh spoke of the rumors being a problem, he wasn't speaking of what his family would think. And he hadn't mentioned friends.
Fuji dropped the curtain and plopped himself on the couch, preparing to pry into whatever Kaidoh was thinking about. Kaidoh stood up, reached for his jacket, and tossed Fuji, his.
"What are you doing?" Fuji asked.
"I'm going out," Kaidoh answered as his arms went through his sleeves, "and you're coming with me. Your mom wanted us to come over for some pie. Again. Does she make anything other than raspberry?"
Following Kaidoh without thinking, Fuji scrambled to keep up. "But- The paparazzi!" Kaidoh was already slipping on his shoes in the doorway. "Kaidoh!"
"Let's just get it over with," Kaidoh said. "Since it's going to happen anyway..." He waited for Fuji to don his jacket before reaching for the door. "Oh, should I call you Shyuusuke, now?" He laughed as he opened the door.
Fuji shouldn't have worried. Their apartment was just too far away to get any descent pictures of either of them as they descended the stairs from their apartment building, and Kaidoh led them around the opposite side of the building, where the cameras wouldn't be able to get them at all. The pictures showed up in the next available tennis magazine - blurred and full of supposition from the press. Kaidoh, as fuzzy as his image was, was definitely male, and for the next week, Fuji couldn't go an hour without hearing Kaidoh hiss at someone on the phone.
"Shut up, stupid!" Kaidoh was saying now - sputtering in such a way that Fuji was sure it was Momoshiro. "Like I have time for things like that!"
06.
It was summer, and he was in England. As he waited between matches, a part of him realized that he'd been living with Kaidoh for a year. It was sweltering hot for England, and the heat made it difficult to keep up his stamina. Not to mention that the times brought about better players; it was getting harder and harder to maintain his wins.
"Fuji Shyuusuke, six games to five!"
The crowd was not particularly large during the preliminaries, but he appreciated hearing the cheers nonetheless. The people here were those that truly loved tennis. He was glad to have won their hearts.
He was gladder still to be led indoors - to air conditioning and the long couch he'd discovered in the waiting room. A few British looked at him disapprovingly when he tossed himself, face down, onto the couch, and a few minutes later, a water bottle tapped him against the head.
"You are getting lazy in your old age," said a gruff voice in crisply structured English. "Shouldn't a professional tennis player run to cool off after a game? You should take better care of yourself."
Fuji smiled into the couch cushions. "Most people stretch after a game," he replied, also in English. The only player I know that runs after a game," he chuckled a little as he remembered, "is a long-time friend of mine."
"Is that so? What is his name? Perhaps, I know him."
The man's hand offered the water bottle again. Wrinkling his brow at a sudden sense of familiarity, Fuji accepted it. Then looked up.
"Kaidoh!"
Kaidoh smirked at him. "Surprise," he said, switching back to Japanese to Fuji's relief. "You played well today, though I'm surprised you let it run that long in this heat."
Still reeling, Fuji only gaped. Kaidoh. Kaidoh in England, when Fuji had been certain beyond measure that he'd be in Japan. Kaidoh, sitting next to him as they passed a water bottle between them, as if it were just another day at Seigaku.
"When did you get here? How?" Fuji asked. "And why? What about school and classes and-"
Kaidoh laughed. "This morning, in just enough time to find my way here. By plane." His eyes were shyly teasing. "As for why - because my favorite tennis player is about to go to Wimbledon."
"How sweet," Fuji said. "You came all the way from Japan just to see me play."
"Hardly." Kaidoh hit him on the back of the hand with the bottle. "Raphael Nadal's playing."
"Your indifference hurts."
"The heart grows fonder," Kaidoh murmured. "So, it's amazing how quickly a college student can save up money for a trip to England when his room mate is paying all the bills. Seeing as you paid for me to come all this way, you'd better play well for me, Fuji Shyuusuke."
Fuji gave him a firm nod. They knocked their fists together and said, "Now's not the time to get careless."
07.
"I lost. I'm coming home early."
Fuji's hand was tight around the cell phone. Kaidoh's silence was deafening, and Fuji wanted to hang up on him, just to keep from screaming at him. He'd lost. The last time he'd lost was against Tezuka. That was years ago. Too long ago. He'd cried then, but he could not feel the tears now.
"When will your plane arrive?" asked Kaidoh. "I'll be there."
He was edgy for the entire trip home. He hadn't felt this kind of need in a long time. He had been born perfect, so why did he want to improve himself? He felt restless. His fellow passengers glared at him with his constant movement, but he couldn't find it in himself to apologize.
He'd lost before. Yet, his loss to Tezuka had not come with the same desperation. There had been only relief in that moment. Why was this one so different?
And when his plane landed, he was strangely slow. People swarmed around him. Then, there was Kaidoh, alone among a sea of faceless people, welcoming him home.
"I'm glad you're back."
Fuji broke. Just a little. He hadn't needed to cry between California and Tokyo, but when Kaidoh reached a hand out, cupped the back of his head and brought him close, he cried.
"How do you stand it?" he demanded into Kaidoh's shoulder. "I've seen you lose tons of times."
"You're just not used to it," Kaidoh soothed. "So you lost. The pain will be brief. Then, you stand up to fight again. That's all it is."
This was a good moment, Fuji thought. Before, he'd felt like he was floating, vulnerable within empty air, but Kaidoh's hand was heavy against the curve of his skull and the brace of Kaidoh's arm around his shoulders grounded him. His hand curled around Kaidoh's shirt.
"Does it always feel like this? Every time?"
"Yes. Although, some losses are easier to bear than others." Fuji could feel Kaidoh's smile against his hair. "You will learn."
Fuji nodded and pulled back. He rubbed at his eyes, and touched the wet smear he'd left on Kaidoh's shirt. He couldn't tell if the heat was from his tears or from the burning of Kaidoh's body.
"Take me home," he said. "Please."
08.
Fuji appreciated the way Kaidoh doted on him. He felt exhausted, and was grateful that Kaidoh wordlessly carried his bags to the car, leading him by the hand as if he were a child. The ride home was silent too - not as pregnant with unspoken words as silences over the phone, midconversation, but good in its own way.
Kaidoh's right hand was steady on the wheel. His other was across the back of Fuji's seat, resting against Fuji's neck - steadying him. Fuji could not stop looking at the tennis ball rolling on the floor board, passing between his feet, going one way at first and then another - following an uncertain and unknowable path.
Once home, Kaidoh set the bags down near the door and knelt to help Fuji out of his shoes. Putting a hand on Kaidoh's head, Fuji stopped him.
"Please, don't. You shouldn't have to."
It was painful to see Kaidoh smile at him now, as servile as he appeared on the floor like that, but Kaidoh took the hand Fuji had put on his head and kissed his palm. "For you, in this moment, I will whether you like it or not."
So the shoes came off. Kaidoh's hands curved along Fuji's ankles - firm, another grounding. Next came food. Fuji sat where he could watch Kaidoh, and he wondered if he'd ever seen Kaidoh cook, though surely he must have in the past year. His meditation music was playing in the background during the meal, but Fuji's mind, still winding itself around the concept of loss, found no rest.
"You should sleep," Kaidoh told him as Fuji set aside his bowl.
"I don't want sleep," Fuji lied. Because Kaidoh's hands were sweeping through his hair. Because if he went to his own bed, he would be by himself, left to wonder if there would only be more losses after this one. "I don't want..."
"You want sleep." Kaidoh's insistance was infectious; Fuji found himself nodding as he leaned into the hand at his cheek. "Should I help you on your way?"
"Please." Fuji trapped Kaidoh's hand against his face and kissed his palm in a mimic of Kaidoh's earlier actions. "In any way you can, teach me how to cope."
"I don't know about coping," Kaidoh said as he led Fuji to a bed - Kaidoh's bed, in all it's messy, lived-in glory, "but this is a good way to get yourself to sleep."
He remembered, in the morning, that Kaidoh had not undressed. He remembered that Kaidoh's hands had moved gently along his body, stripping him of his clothes as easily as he stripped him of his barriers. He'd started crying again as Kaidoh's fingertips roused him to his height and kept him there, determined to wring out every last bit of his energy in those few moments. He had come within the circle of Kaidoh's palm - arched into that aching vulnerability that had haunted him thus far and crashed down.
Fuji remembered, as he woke and found Kaidoh sleeping across the length of the couch, that they had not kissed.
09.
"It was only a game," Fuji said as Kaidoh started looking more awake. "It was only a game, so you didn't... You didn't have to do what you did."
"Only a game," Kaidoh repeated. "What I did was not because you lost a game, Fuji. I thought an idiot like you might understand that."
And Fuji thought he understood. He did, but Kaidoh was making less and less sense as the day went on. He looked away from Kaidoh for a moment. "You didn't kiss me."
"Would you rather I had, given the situation?" Kaidoh asked immediately. Had he expected Fuji's response? "You should know that I like kissing. Would you have wanted me to take pleasure out something that was supposed to be for you?"
"No, I suppose not." Fuji's eyes flicked back to where Kaidoh still lay, watching him from beneath sleepy lashes. "Could you do it now?"
From junior high and high school, Fuji remembered that Kaidoh went after the things he wanted with a scary sort of intensity. He thought that again as Kaidoh reached up to cup Fuji's head in his palm and bring him down for a bruising kiss. It was not neat or sloppy, but Fuji could not deny that he liked it. Deliberately, Fuji bore down on Kaidoh, claiming his mouth and drawing out a low groan as he pulled away.
"The man that I played against," Fuji said - quite suddenly, apparently, for the way Kaidoh's expression became lost was telling - and his hands sneakily found their way to Kaidoh's skin. "When I meet him again on the courts, I'll get my revenge."
Fuji's hands skimmed across Kaidoh's stomach. The muscles beneath his touch fluttered, and Fuji had to kiss him again. Did so. Happily left Kaidoh wanting again.
"Until then, Kaoru, let's give the press something to talk about."
10.
Fuji won, the second time. And flew home with the satisfaction of having defeated a man who had beat him once before.
He'd called Kaidoh before boarding his plane: "Kaoru." Kaidoh's sharp inhale at his given name made him smile. "I won."
"Don't bother getting cocky, Shyuusuke," Kaidoh'd said - no venom. He was too breathless. "I started without you the moment I saw the scores."
Fuji's eyes had fluttered shut at the news. "How naughty of you."
A soft laugh. "Your mother brought pie again."
He'd never been more impatient for a flight... for a taxi or train... for the key to their apartment to just work so that he could walk in and feast on the sight of his lover-
"Welcome home."
**Omake**
Fandom: Prince of tennis
Characters/Pairing: Fuji x Kaidoh
Rating: PG-13 ish
Summary: Ten days to display the progression of Fuji and Kaidoh's relationship as it grows, moment to moment.
Apartment series: Ten Days || Figure || Fortnight || Corrective Measures
01.
Fuji and Kaidoh were not really friends. Team mates, comrades in arms ready to defend to the last... so far as tennis was concerned, and sometimes - off and on - the more personal things because neither Fuji nor Kaidoh would stand for anyone attacking their siblings. Sempai and kohai, quite naturally, but not really friends.
So, to those that knew them, there would have been some surprise to see the two of them sitting together in the restaurant over coffee. Fuji was thinking that it was strange for Kaidoh to call him out, too. Even though they'd gone through high school together, Kaidoh's infrequent contact had led Fuji to believe their relationship had dwindled to something near acquaintances.
"I'm going to college, Fuji-sempai," Kaidoh started. "To study English and become a teacher... or a translator."
"I've heard," Fuji told him.
"And you have a contract as a professional tennis player," Kaidoh continued. The awe in his voice was very slight; there, but whatever he was here to talk about was taking precedence. "How is that looking for you?"
"It seems I will be traveling much more than I'd thought," he replied. "It's not a problem though. I'll be staying with my parents when in Japan."
"Sounds troublesome for your family," Kaidoh said, a bit too casually as his fingers fidgeted around the curve of his cup, "to have you coming and going without much of a set schedule. Do tournaments allow you to be home for holidays?"
Fuji's eyes narrowed. Kaidoh had pinpointed one of his own concerns; his schedule would be unpredictable and he would probably be coming home at unlikable hours. "Sometimes. It would depend on my participation. Tournaments do happen during holidays, and travel takes time."
"Of course." Kaidoh, who had thus far been avoiding Fuji's gaze, looked at Fuji through his bangs - shy was an oddly good look for him. "I'm going to a university that's further from home than I'd like, and I need a place to stay."
"Are you asking if you can live at my family's house?" Fuji's brows wrinkled. "I can't be much closer to the university than you."
"That's not what I'm asking," Kaidoh said, and he reached into his bag for a slip of paper. "I've already got an apartment in mind. Two bedroom, kitchen, bath, and other stuff. But it's too expensive for just me to handle, and no single person flats are available in the area."
"So..."
"So, I need a room mate. And I thought... I thought it might be nice for you to be able to come back to Japan without..." Fuji could tell that Kaidoh was trying to choose his words carefully, "-without having to worry."
"I don't start my training until after the school year begins," Fuji ventured. His eyes were on the apartment advertisement. The idea of moving out of his family's home was sorely tempting.
"We could try it for a few months." Kaidoh's fingers were fiddling with the cup again, flitting over the handle, circling the lip... "See what it'd be like."
Fuji took a long drink from his coffee as he thought. University life cost money, so that was no doubt Kaidoh's motivation. Rooming with a well-paid (because he would be and he had the skill to make it happen) tennis player had it's obvious advantages. What he would get out of the deal was far less clear, but...
"For a few months," Fuji finally agreed. Kaidoh visibly relaxed. "But to get me to stay, you'll have to make it worth my while."
"Yes, sempai," Kaidoh intoned. "I'll be sure to do that."
02.
Kaidoh was a very tidy homemaker. Obsessively so. He straightened everything Fuji touched and cleaned after their every meal (even when most of it was take out) though they didn't often have the chance to eat together. Fuji felt like he was going mad, and it had only been two weeks. If this was Kaidoh's twisted way of telling Fuji that he would be a perfect room mate that took care of everything, he was going to put a stop to it today.
"Here, Fuji-sempai." Kaidoh reached for Fuji's plate, but the tennis player scooted it out reach. "Fuji-sempai..."
Another reach. This time, Fuji took it away completely and felt some perverse pleasure in seeing Kaidoh's face twist when he set it on a far table.
"Is there something wrong?"
Fuji crossed his arms. "Yes."
"Oh." A beat as Kaidoh adjusted to the news. "Is it something I can fix?"
Hm.... "For now, this plate is staying here."
For some reason, he'd been expecting Kaidoh to back down, but apparently, being room mates ("sempai" or no) put them on even ground. Kaidoh strode up and grabbed the plate with a strangled glare in Fuji's direction.
"Letting it sit is wasteful, Fuji-sempai," Kaidoh said firmly as he went straight to the kitchen. "I won't have enough time to do this once school starts, but I'll clean when I have the time."
Following, Fuji watched as Kaidoh's hands worked beneath the water. "I thought you were doing this just to make up for coercing me into this situation."
"Is it enough?" Kaidoh asked. He was carefully not watching for Fuji's reaction. "You're not getting much out of this deal, I know, so I'd like to do what I can to convince you that this is a good thing. There's no saying that your schedule will be any less troublesome for me than it is for your family, but because I asked for your help, I'll have no room to argue."
"Is that how it is?" Fuji smiled. "Kaidoh-kun is surprisingly manipulative."
There was a curve tugging at the corner of Kaidoh's mouth. "Ah. I suppose I had a good teacher, sempai."
03.
"Welcome home."
It was something near three in the morning and Kaidoh had opened the door before Fuji could unlock it. He looked tired, but he handed a cup of tea to Fuji after he'd toed off his shoes in the doorway.
"Are you hungry?"
Fuji savored the heat of the drink. Winter had settled in Japan. "I ate on the plane."
"Ah, well, don't mind me," Kaidoh said, moving back to his books - scattered as usual across the dining room table. "I'll be up a little longer."
Their apartment seemed no different than when he'd left it. Things he'd left had been only slightly moved - a book he'd dropped to the couch sported a second bookmark near the beginning, some of his clothes were drying side-by-side with Kaidoh's in a corner near the heater - and the evidence of their increasingly meshed lives crossed within this place.
Fuji found too much food in the kitchen. Groceries on the counter. Home made goods in the fridge. Short stacks of bentos. A raspberry pie long-cooled on the stove top. He leaned out of the kitchen and peeked at Kaidoh's back.
"Were you bored while I was gone?"
"Our parents stopped by today," Kaidoh explained, leaning back in his chair to look at Fuji. "Your mom baked the pie. Mine brought the bentos. They get along a little too well, I think."
That explained the rest of the baking.
"Well. I was never one to turn down pie."
04.
Fuji had given Kaidoh an emergency cell number so that the other man could reach him in case of emergencies. The first few days he spent in Florida was great, but every time he returned to his hotel, he checked the front desk for messages as if he expected to hear from Kaidoh. Always were the small messages from family and friends - just wishing you luck, from Yuuta; see you on the courts, from Ryoma; I'll be watching, from Inui - but nothing from Kaidoh, at neither the desk nor on the cell phone.
It made him nervous. He worried. Perhaps Kaidoh hadn't been able to call because he had been the one injured. But no, surely Kaidoh's mother would call...or was she too concerned over her son? But then, his mother, of course... Of course, she would be considerate to his tennis, foremost. He couldn't keep himself from imagining Kaidoh in a hospital bed in some Tokyo hospital and himself, unable to know for sure if the thought had foundation.
Still, the cell phone remained eerily silent through the rest of the week.
"Mr. Fuji," the voice of the attendant at the front desk was too cheerful through the receiver. "You have a call from Tokyo, Japan. Would you like to accept?"
Fuji rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. 22:17 glowed at him. "Who is it?"
"A Mr. Kaoru Kaidoh, sir." Her speech fairly butchered the name.
"I'll take the call, but none for the rest of the night, please." A quiet "yes, sir," and it was gruff silence for a moment. "How are things, Kaidoh?"
"Ah, fine. I guess. Inui-sempai called me to say that your game was not up to your usual standards during the preliminaries." Fuji could hear Kaidoh working out how the rest of their conversation might go. "Is there anything wrong? I noticed your left your golden racket here. Do I need to send it over?" Now, he was almost amused.
"Not at all," Fuji said. He was smiling; it felt as if it had been too long since he'd done it last. "I was just...preoccupied. The other competitors weren't enough to keep me focused this week, so my mind kept wandering."
"Oh."
"It's not really a problem, but do you think you could tell me how your week has been?"
"Are you sure you're okay, Fuji-sempai?" Kaidoh asked. "You sound odd."
"I'm sure," Fuji said. "I just feel homesick suddenly."
"I'll call again next week, then, just in case," Kaidoh promised before sighing into the receiver. "The university will be hosting a fair by the local high school next week. It'll be over by the time you get back, but my art class is having us contribute-"
Fuji nodded off in the middle of Kaidoh's explanation. He remembered face paints and culture dances, but not much else beyond the deep whisper of a voice in his ear. When it waxed silent, Fuji roused just enough to hear Kaidoh breathe a chuckle.
"Goodnight, Fuji-sempai."
05.
"I need to get out of here," Fuji declared as he drew the curtain aside to look at the crowd of journalists and photographers loitering outside the gates that led to their apartment building. A camera flashed in his direction; the rest followed, as if by instinct, and he dropped the curtain. "You should stay, though."
Behind him, Kaidoh was slowly tapping out a book report on his laptop, not quite paying attention to what he was writing. He hmmed and Fuji could feel Kaidoh looking at him.
Fuji fidgeted with the hem of the curtain, a little tempted to keep looking at the reporters and letting them take as many pictures of him as they wanted - pictures of him and his apartment, him and his rackets, him and his... his room mate. "I don't think they've realized we both live here."
"Yet." Kaidoh sighed, resumed some quick typing. "Not all of them will disappear when you go on your next trip. They'll find out we live together sooner or later. Why should it interfere?" A few more taps. "Although, it could be a problem."
Fuji stuck a bit of his hair in his mouth - a horrible habit that Kaidoh had been trying to rid him of - and sucked on the tips as he stared down at the cameras that flashed up at him. "They'll make a scandal out of the situation," Fuji agreed. "Homosexual tennis love affair or something. That sells magazines these days, right?"
The typing had stopped altogether now. "Are you afraid that kind of thing will ruin your reputation, Fuji?"
"Not so much as you might think," was the reply. "My manager will probably get a thrill out of it. She's supports that kind of thing. It could be fun, for a little bit." Fuji glanced back at Kaidoh and saw him leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "What about you, Kaidoh? Would it cause trouble for you?"
Kaidoh paused. "Mom wouldn't like it. She wants grandchildren badly, so she'd probably freak out. And Dad..." The legs of his chair snapped back against the floor; his hands braced himself against the edge of the table.
He wasn't sure how he could tell - whether it was a natural thing he'd learned over time, or if it was just knowing, suddenly, in a flash of understanding - but he knew that Kaidoh was making excuses. When Kaidoh spoke of the rumors being a problem, he wasn't speaking of what his family would think. And he hadn't mentioned friends.
Fuji dropped the curtain and plopped himself on the couch, preparing to pry into whatever Kaidoh was thinking about. Kaidoh stood up, reached for his jacket, and tossed Fuji, his.
"What are you doing?" Fuji asked.
"I'm going out," Kaidoh answered as his arms went through his sleeves, "and you're coming with me. Your mom wanted us to come over for some pie. Again. Does she make anything other than raspberry?"
Following Kaidoh without thinking, Fuji scrambled to keep up. "But- The paparazzi!" Kaidoh was already slipping on his shoes in the doorway. "Kaidoh!"
"Let's just get it over with," Kaidoh said. "Since it's going to happen anyway..." He waited for Fuji to don his jacket before reaching for the door. "Oh, should I call you Shyuusuke, now?" He laughed as he opened the door.
Fuji shouldn't have worried. Their apartment was just too far away to get any descent pictures of either of them as they descended the stairs from their apartment building, and Kaidoh led them around the opposite side of the building, where the cameras wouldn't be able to get them at all. The pictures showed up in the next available tennis magazine - blurred and full of supposition from the press. Kaidoh, as fuzzy as his image was, was definitely male, and for the next week, Fuji couldn't go an hour without hearing Kaidoh hiss at someone on the phone.
"Shut up, stupid!" Kaidoh was saying now - sputtering in such a way that Fuji was sure it was Momoshiro. "Like I have time for things like that!"
06.
It was summer, and he was in England. As he waited between matches, a part of him realized that he'd been living with Kaidoh for a year. It was sweltering hot for England, and the heat made it difficult to keep up his stamina. Not to mention that the times brought about better players; it was getting harder and harder to maintain his wins.
"Fuji Shyuusuke, six games to five!"
The crowd was not particularly large during the preliminaries, but he appreciated hearing the cheers nonetheless. The people here were those that truly loved tennis. He was glad to have won their hearts.
He was gladder still to be led indoors - to air conditioning and the long couch he'd discovered in the waiting room. A few British looked at him disapprovingly when he tossed himself, face down, onto the couch, and a few minutes later, a water bottle tapped him against the head.
"You are getting lazy in your old age," said a gruff voice in crisply structured English. "Shouldn't a professional tennis player run to cool off after a game? You should take better care of yourself."
Fuji smiled into the couch cushions. "Most people stretch after a game," he replied, also in English. The only player I know that runs after a game," he chuckled a little as he remembered, "is a long-time friend of mine."
"Is that so? What is his name? Perhaps, I know him."
The man's hand offered the water bottle again. Wrinkling his brow at a sudden sense of familiarity, Fuji accepted it. Then looked up.
"Kaidoh!"
Kaidoh smirked at him. "Surprise," he said, switching back to Japanese to Fuji's relief. "You played well today, though I'm surprised you let it run that long in this heat."
Still reeling, Fuji only gaped. Kaidoh. Kaidoh in England, when Fuji had been certain beyond measure that he'd be in Japan. Kaidoh, sitting next to him as they passed a water bottle between them, as if it were just another day at Seigaku.
"When did you get here? How?" Fuji asked. "And why? What about school and classes and-"
Kaidoh laughed. "This morning, in just enough time to find my way here. By plane." His eyes were shyly teasing. "As for why - because my favorite tennis player is about to go to Wimbledon."
"How sweet," Fuji said. "You came all the way from Japan just to see me play."
"Hardly." Kaidoh hit him on the back of the hand with the bottle. "Raphael Nadal's playing."
"Your indifference hurts."
"The heart grows fonder," Kaidoh murmured. "So, it's amazing how quickly a college student can save up money for a trip to England when his room mate is paying all the bills. Seeing as you paid for me to come all this way, you'd better play well for me, Fuji Shyuusuke."
Fuji gave him a firm nod. They knocked their fists together and said, "Now's not the time to get careless."
07.
"I lost. I'm coming home early."
Fuji's hand was tight around the cell phone. Kaidoh's silence was deafening, and Fuji wanted to hang up on him, just to keep from screaming at him. He'd lost. The last time he'd lost was against Tezuka. That was years ago. Too long ago. He'd cried then, but he could not feel the tears now.
"When will your plane arrive?" asked Kaidoh. "I'll be there."
He was edgy for the entire trip home. He hadn't felt this kind of need in a long time. He had been born perfect, so why did he want to improve himself? He felt restless. His fellow passengers glared at him with his constant movement, but he couldn't find it in himself to apologize.
He'd lost before. Yet, his loss to Tezuka had not come with the same desperation. There had been only relief in that moment. Why was this one so different?
And when his plane landed, he was strangely slow. People swarmed around him. Then, there was Kaidoh, alone among a sea of faceless people, welcoming him home.
"I'm glad you're back."
Fuji broke. Just a little. He hadn't needed to cry between California and Tokyo, but when Kaidoh reached a hand out, cupped the back of his head and brought him close, he cried.
"How do you stand it?" he demanded into Kaidoh's shoulder. "I've seen you lose tons of times."
"You're just not used to it," Kaidoh soothed. "So you lost. The pain will be brief. Then, you stand up to fight again. That's all it is."
This was a good moment, Fuji thought. Before, he'd felt like he was floating, vulnerable within empty air, but Kaidoh's hand was heavy against the curve of his skull and the brace of Kaidoh's arm around his shoulders grounded him. His hand curled around Kaidoh's shirt.
"Does it always feel like this? Every time?"
"Yes. Although, some losses are easier to bear than others." Fuji could feel Kaidoh's smile against his hair. "You will learn."
Fuji nodded and pulled back. He rubbed at his eyes, and touched the wet smear he'd left on Kaidoh's shirt. He couldn't tell if the heat was from his tears or from the burning of Kaidoh's body.
"Take me home," he said. "Please."
08.
Fuji appreciated the way Kaidoh doted on him. He felt exhausted, and was grateful that Kaidoh wordlessly carried his bags to the car, leading him by the hand as if he were a child. The ride home was silent too - not as pregnant with unspoken words as silences over the phone, midconversation, but good in its own way.
Kaidoh's right hand was steady on the wheel. His other was across the back of Fuji's seat, resting against Fuji's neck - steadying him. Fuji could not stop looking at the tennis ball rolling on the floor board, passing between his feet, going one way at first and then another - following an uncertain and unknowable path.
Once home, Kaidoh set the bags down near the door and knelt to help Fuji out of his shoes. Putting a hand on Kaidoh's head, Fuji stopped him.
"Please, don't. You shouldn't have to."
It was painful to see Kaidoh smile at him now, as servile as he appeared on the floor like that, but Kaidoh took the hand Fuji had put on his head and kissed his palm. "For you, in this moment, I will whether you like it or not."
So the shoes came off. Kaidoh's hands curved along Fuji's ankles - firm, another grounding. Next came food. Fuji sat where he could watch Kaidoh, and he wondered if he'd ever seen Kaidoh cook, though surely he must have in the past year. His meditation music was playing in the background during the meal, but Fuji's mind, still winding itself around the concept of loss, found no rest.
"You should sleep," Kaidoh told him as Fuji set aside his bowl.
"I don't want sleep," Fuji lied. Because Kaidoh's hands were sweeping through his hair. Because if he went to his own bed, he would be by himself, left to wonder if there would only be more losses after this one. "I don't want..."
"You want sleep." Kaidoh's insistance was infectious; Fuji found himself nodding as he leaned into the hand at his cheek. "Should I help you on your way?"
"Please." Fuji trapped Kaidoh's hand against his face and kissed his palm in a mimic of Kaidoh's earlier actions. "In any way you can, teach me how to cope."
"I don't know about coping," Kaidoh said as he led Fuji to a bed - Kaidoh's bed, in all it's messy, lived-in glory, "but this is a good way to get yourself to sleep."
He remembered, in the morning, that Kaidoh had not undressed. He remembered that Kaidoh's hands had moved gently along his body, stripping him of his clothes as easily as he stripped him of his barriers. He'd started crying again as Kaidoh's fingertips roused him to his height and kept him there, determined to wring out every last bit of his energy in those few moments. He had come within the circle of Kaidoh's palm - arched into that aching vulnerability that had haunted him thus far and crashed down.
Fuji remembered, as he woke and found Kaidoh sleeping across the length of the couch, that they had not kissed.
09.
"It was only a game," Fuji said as Kaidoh started looking more awake. "It was only a game, so you didn't... You didn't have to do what you did."
"Only a game," Kaidoh repeated. "What I did was not because you lost a game, Fuji. I thought an idiot like you might understand that."
And Fuji thought he understood. He did, but Kaidoh was making less and less sense as the day went on. He looked away from Kaidoh for a moment. "You didn't kiss me."
"Would you rather I had, given the situation?" Kaidoh asked immediately. Had he expected Fuji's response? "You should know that I like kissing. Would you have wanted me to take pleasure out something that was supposed to be for you?"
"No, I suppose not." Fuji's eyes flicked back to where Kaidoh still lay, watching him from beneath sleepy lashes. "Could you do it now?"
From junior high and high school, Fuji remembered that Kaidoh went after the things he wanted with a scary sort of intensity. He thought that again as Kaidoh reached up to cup Fuji's head in his palm and bring him down for a bruising kiss. It was not neat or sloppy, but Fuji could not deny that he liked it. Deliberately, Fuji bore down on Kaidoh, claiming his mouth and drawing out a low groan as he pulled away.
"The man that I played against," Fuji said - quite suddenly, apparently, for the way Kaidoh's expression became lost was telling - and his hands sneakily found their way to Kaidoh's skin. "When I meet him again on the courts, I'll get my revenge."
Fuji's hands skimmed across Kaidoh's stomach. The muscles beneath his touch fluttered, and Fuji had to kiss him again. Did so. Happily left Kaidoh wanting again.
"Until then, Kaoru, let's give the press something to talk about."
10.
Fuji won, the second time. And flew home with the satisfaction of having defeated a man who had beat him once before.
He'd called Kaidoh before boarding his plane: "Kaoru." Kaidoh's sharp inhale at his given name made him smile. "I won."
"Don't bother getting cocky, Shyuusuke," Kaidoh'd said - no venom. He was too breathless. "I started without you the moment I saw the scores."
Fuji's eyes had fluttered shut at the news. "How naughty of you."
A soft laugh. "Your mother brought pie again."
He'd never been more impatient for a flight... for a taxi or train... for the key to their apartment to just work so that he could walk in and feast on the sight of his lover-
"Welcome home."
**Omake**