Cab Fare
Figured I needed to get at least one thing posted up this month. October will likely be the same. A lot of what I am working on right now is all longer projects, so stuff is not getting done and ready for posting nearly as quickly as the one shots I typically write -- I can generally do two of those a week. Good part is, once they do get rolling, I'll have something with very regular updates to start posting. Bad part is, I'm not comfortable posting works in progress until I'm pretty close to done. I'll try to keep at least one post a month, if not more, for the time being, though!
Title: Cab Fare
Rating: R (language and actions of a sexual nature)
Characters: Tezuka Kunimitsu, Echizen Ryoma
Pairing: Tezuka Kunimitsu, Echizen Ryoma
Note: This is a sequel to my earlier piece After Hours.
Disclaimer: I've got a whole lot of Headcanons, but that's about it.
Cab Fare
It was silent and dark in the taxi, the only light coming from the neon and halogen signs advertising the Tokyo nightlife as they neared the city’s metropolitan outskirts. Tezuka closed his eyes and sighed in exhaustion, leaning his head against the back seat's headrest. He could not say when his fingers had started running through the short hair of the young man whose head rested on his lap, but he found it soothing all the same and, since Echizen was passed out drunk, there was no way he would ever find out.
It would not change the small ball of guilt the division chief felt settling in his chest. He had been the one putting the distance between them recently, even if he was doing it for Echizen’s own behalf. What right did he have to take comfort in his subordinate’s unknowing proximity.
The last three months had been difficult to say the least. Insane, according to Momoshiro. Impossible, according to Kikumaru. The three months with the highest rate of overtime worked by all employees in the last three years according to Inui. Fuji simply called them interesting. After headquarters had chosen their design for the new product’s release, Tezuka and his employees had been working almost around the clock to get everything in order. Today, their months of planning, preparation, advertising and hard work had paid off with its release and, already, sales numbers were looking like they would pass original estimates. Admittedly, flying so far over their estimates would have its own problems, but Tezuka would be making calls on Monday to increase order numbers to hopefully prevent any backorder runs.
This weekend, he would rest, along with the rest of his team -- though Tezuka was quite certain Momoshiro, Kikumaru and Echizen would spend tomorrow nursing hangovers. It was odd, though. Kikumaru and Momoshiro were expected casualties on nights out like these. Even Inui could miscalculate how much he could drink at times and end up getting carried away. Echizen had never seemed the type to overdrink.
Tezuka thought back to the one moment he had slipped that night and met the youngest member of the team eye to eye before he had turned back to his beer and a conversation with Oishi. The division chief could not tell if the betrayal he saw in those golden eyes was real or imagined and his mind haunted him with whispers that he was at least part of the reason Echizen had drunk so much.
A bump in the road caused by in-progress construction as they neared Echizen’s neighborhood pulled a groan from the sleeper and Tezuka withdrew his hand as if he had been scalded when blurry gold eyes tried to make sense of his surroundings.
“Buchou?” the young man asked, at least able to see enough to make sense of the face hovering above his own. The word came out heavy, but with enough recognition that Tezuka knew the worst of the alcohol had been slept off. The way Echizen’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed spoke of the startings of the hangover he knew had to be coming.
“You drank a bit too much tonight, Echizen,” Tezuka explained. He had never let himself go enough to pass out, but he could imagine how disorienting it would be to suddenly wake up and find himself somewhere he did not remember being.
Echizen groaned. “I only had one beer and then switched to soda,” he rebutted and Tezuka frowned. Even Echizen, as young as he was, could handle one beer. From the sound of it, he could almost keep up with Momoshiro despite the size difference. Inui had mentioned something about the benefits of an American collegiate education on business parties, but its detriments on the liver. Had he been drugged, then? That was an unsettling thought, considering how often the team met up at Kawamura Sushi.
“Who gave you your drinks?” Tezuka asked, his voice sharp with concern. Echizen flinched and Tezuka suddenly realized how tense his body had become. He immediately worked on forcing his muscles to relax as Echizen thought. “Taka-san was the one serving us,” he spoke, a fact which Tezuka knew well. “Fuji-senpai gave me the first soda,” Echizen added, “but I just ordered the same thing after that and they came straight from Taka-san.”
Tezuka sighed. While he could be relieved in the knowledge that Kawamura and Fuji would not drug Echizen, he had a feeling that soda had not been the only thing in Echizen’s glass tonight. The young man had likely been drinking hard liquor without even knowing it, the first beer having affected his sense of taste enough to not recognize an extra bite. No wonder he had gotten so drunk.
“I’m sorry you had to bring me.”
Tezuka blinked, confused at the apology, and looked down at Echizen, whose head still rested in his lap, face pointedly staring at the seat back in front of them. “Don’t be. I was on my way out and we live in the same direction.”
Fuzzy golden eyes met his before sliding away and closing. “You could’ve made Momo-senpai do it, buchou. He could probably stand one decently early night.”
Tezuka swallowed, suddenly realizing Echizen’s apology had not been for getting drunk, but truly for Tezuka having to be the one to take him home. Maybe he had been trying to push Echizen away too hard. Maybe ignoring those querying glances the last three months and leaving his desk stacked with so much paperwork that even Inui began to worry over Tezuka’s workload had been the wrong move. “Everyone has worked hard the past few months, including Momoshiro,” he said, instead, not wanting to force the man into an early night for Fuji’s misdeeds. The way Fuji had shoved Echizen on him made it clear this had been the genius’s goal in the first place. “I apologize if you would’ve preferred his company to mine,” Tezuka added, realizing that, for as much as Fuji might be trying to push them together, they had probably already drifted too far apart thanks, once again, to Tezuka’s own actions -- or lack thereof -- and demeanor, “but we are almost to your flat.”
The backseat of the taxi was dead silent and Tezuka could hear the whine of tires on the road. It was darker than ever before now that they had hit the suburbs. Bar and cabaret and general city lights had faded to intermittent street lights and signals and a 24-hour convenience store’s halogen glow. Thinking the conversation over for the meanwhile, Tezuka’s gaze slipped back to the window only to slingshot back, his eyes wide, as Echizen rolled over to face his stomach and then began to unzip his trousers.
“Echizen, what do you think-” Tezuka scolded before silencing himself, a wary gaze sent to the taxi driver’s rearview mirror, hoping he hadn’t drawn the man’s attention. His hands pushed at Echizen’s own in an attempt to protect his dignity. Tezuka might have fucked Echizen over his desk in his office on company overtime, but he was not about to let the man give him a drunken blowjob in the backseat of a taxi.
“This is what we do, isn’t it?” the younger man asked with a bitter voice, “Whenever it’s just us?” While he was no longer attempting to pull Tezuka’s zipper down, his face was still buried tantalizingly close. Only it was impossible to think about sex and memories and the wonders he had learned Echizen’s tongue and mouth could do when he felt the young man shaking and the pant leg Echizen’s hand had fisted around twisted tight in the younger man’s grasp. “I missed you, buchou.”
“Echizen...” Tezuka murmured in concern at the sound of threatening tears, his hand moving to rest on top of the young man’s head, but never making contact. Echizen had been the one to make the first move between them, but had Tezuka been wrong to respond? It had felt good back then, being with Echizen. He had been divorced for four years, his wife leaving him after he failed to keep her satisfied and happy. His focus was too much on his work, she had told him, it was clear he did not love her. As far as he knew, her admitted affair had only been to force his hand on the matter as mutual acquaintances said she had dumped the man only a month after the papers were signed and the divorce legalized. Tezuka had not demanded reparations in the first place, however, and had even paid her 4 million yen -- the extent of his savings for their life together -- in seed money and left her their flat as his apology.
Work had been his life after that and he had turned down any other offers for omiai, not wanting to put another woman through what his first wife had apparently suffered.
Echizen had been different, though. He was a hard worker and had a good head on his shoulders. He showed his own dedication to his job and an understanding of Tezuka’s reserved nature, even if he had a penchant for pushing at his boundaries. There was a mutual respect between the two and a mutual attraction -- far more attraction than Tezuka had ever felt towards his wife if he were to be honest, which spoke of too many truths the division chief had been ignoring since high school -- and it had all overflowed that one day they had been working overtime.
Tezuka knew very well that there had been something more than just the physical between them, but after the burn of his earlier marriage, he did not feel the need to define the relationship they had fallen into. Redefining his sexuality in his thirties had seemed another daunting task, so their interactions had remained those of secret glances and hidden smiles, of kisses shared in the reference room stacks and passions explored once everyone else had left. There had even been one time -- when Echizen found he could fit under Tezuka’s desk -- when the team had been in the room and Tezuka had bit his cheek and tasted blood when Echizen had swallowed him whole. The division chief had made his disapproval of Echizen’s actions clear by purposefully ignoring him for two weeks. After those two weeks and an apology slipped between two of Echizen’s reports that required his signature, Tezuka showed his appreciation for Echizen’s skill by returning the favor once everyone had left for lunch -- Fuji had offered to treat.
They had never met outside of work. Tezuka had not wanted to open the door to ultimatums of work or me. He had not wanted to be the one tying Echizen down with any sort of title -- because while Tezuka had settled himself in his position of middle-management and eternal bachelorhood, Echizen had proven himself a capable and strong-minded worker who could easily rise the ranks. He would not have been headhunted from his ivy league alma mater, otherwise. Even if he had no one in mind for himself, his superiors would soon begin offering their daughters or nieces just as they once had for Tezuka. He had done this for the benefit of both of them, Tezuka had been telling himself, but maybe he had been wrong. Echizen was a diligent worker with outstanding results, yes, but because of that Tezuka had forgotten how young he was. Ten years was, apparently, a larger gap to cover than he had realized.
“Turn right here.”
The command was out of Tezuka’s mouth before he even realized he had said it and the cab driver’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror.
“Sir?”
“Turn right here,” Tezuka repeated. He would not change his mind after deciding on something, even if his subconscious had decided on it before he had even realized. The driver did as asked and Tezuka gave him a new address fifteen minutes further out.
“Buchou?” Echizen’s whisper sounded breathy and Tezuka realized he would likely not have had the chance to see such an honest Echizen if it were not for the alcohol. He was not quite sure whether to curse or thank Fuji now and the growing, nagging suspicion that their public relations specialist had done this on purpose became a certainty. Fuji always seemed capable of reading people far too well and he had used that ability on the two of them to debilitating effect.
“Buchou, why are we going to your place first?”
Cursing Fuji would have to wait. For now, Tezuka’s hand finally settled itself back on Echizen’s head, his fingers playing with silken strands of dark hair until the tension in Echizen’s shoulders began to fade. “We’re going to rest there tonight,” he explained, “I’d rather keep an eye on you, just in case.”
“I’m not that drunk anymore,” Echizen growled before raising his head and attempting to sit up.
Tezuka’s hand forced Echizen back down as he continued, “Tomorrow, when we wake up, we’ll go for a drive.”
Echizen’s struggles stilled.
“We’ll go for a drive or a walk, we’ll grab a meal,” Tezuka explained, “And then we’ll have a talk.”
Echizen’s face buried itself into his stomach and the fist clenching onto his pant leg tightened once again.
“I’m sorry, Ryoma.” Tezuka’s apology was a whisper, but it was sincere and, at the use of his first name, Echizen sent wide golden eyes in his direction. Tezuka felt the breath the other man held, the way his chest no longer moved, rhythmically raising Echizen’s neck and removing some of the weight of his head off of the top of the older man’s thigh. “I was only thinking about myself when I kept avoiding us. I figured keeping things undefined was easier and safer for when you wanted to leave.”
Anger flashed in those golden eyes, replacing surprise, and Tezuka let out a small smile -- the first one he had given in months -- at its appearance.
“I’m ten years older than you, Echizen, and a divorced man,” he tried to explain his reasoning, “You have a promising future. I didn’t want to tie you to me.”
The anger did not fade and Tezuka sighed once more.
“I didn’t want to have to watch someone else I cared about walk away,” he finally admitted.
This time, Echizen did sit up, hands drunkenly stumbling across Tezuka’s lap, chest, the seat back, the door until he found a modicum of balance at the height necessary to stare his boss directly in the eye, demanding an explanation without ever having to say a word.
“My wife left me because I couldn’t prioritize her over my work.” Tezuka found his answers tumbling from his mouth before he had even thought them. He must have had more to drink than he thought, though Tezuka had been so sure he had been carefully nursing his two beers.
Damn Fuji.
“She grew disillusioned with me,” the words continued even with that realization, “You are my employee and are becoming something far more precious. I couldn’t stand it if you did, too.”
“Customers, we have arrived.”
Tezuka looked up to see the driver looking at them through the rear view mirror. The moment their eyes met, the driver’s drifted away and in the silence of the stilled vehicle, even with the idling engine, the driver could be heard shifting in his seat. Tezuka glanced at Echizen who seemed to understand and back away, allowing Tezuka to pick up his jacket -- which had fallen to the ground after Echizen’s movements had thrown it from his shoulders -- and pull his cash from the inside pocket. As Tezuka paid the driver, Echizen opened the door and stumbled out, his toe hitting the inside lip of the door, though he managed to catch himself before stumbling onto the sidewalk.
Tezuka’s door opened shortly after and Echizen turned to watch the man step out of the car and slip around the rear, pocketing his change, to end up at Echizen’s side, arms reaching out to steady the younger man. The taxi drove away -- driver likely glad to be rid of the two men he had realized were not simply coworkers and were in the process of becoming so much more -- and Echizen fell into Tezuka’s grasp, one of the older man’s arms wrapping around his shoulders as Echizen hummed and closed his eyes, leaning his head against his superior’s collar bone.
It felt right. A perfect fit. Tezuka had one tailored suit, a remnant from his marriage, and even it did not fit so well as Echizen in his arms.
His fingers shook, but Tezuka brought his other hand up to Echizen’s elbow, helping to lead the man to the stairs. His apartment building was not the nicest, but it did not need to be. There were no wife or children to worry about and, as he had not dated afterwards, no women to impress.
On the second step, Echizen lurched forward, one hand reaching out to the rail for balance as he turned around with a smirk lazy from alcohol consumption. “Buchou, I’m as tall as you now,” he whispered before tilting his head and leaning in for a kiss. Tezuka’s arms immediately moved up to hold Echizen’s own, stilling the man’s progress and turning his face away. “No,” Tezuka commanded through furrowed brows a frown and a tight grip, “Not outside and not while you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” Echizen argued with a snort before releasing his grasp on the rail and falling fully into Tezuka’s grasp in an attempt to break the older man’s defense.
“Not while you’re drunk.”
Echizen grumbled at the secondary command, even stronger than the first, and sighed. “Alright,” he admitted, “I’m drunk.” The small, concerned smile Tezuka let slip as he led the younger man up the rest of the stairs to the second floor landing almost made the admission worth it. The kiss to his forehead and the way Tezuka’s arms wrapped and tightened around him once the door closed behind them made up for his earlier loss.
“Rest up and sober up,” Tezuka told Echizen as he lays out his singular futon for the both of them. He had never entertained guests before, except for Fuji who had once brought him a cactus and a recommendation to talk to the plant which had gone ignored though the plant still flourished. He pulled water from the fridge and opened a bottle with a crackle and an order for Echizen to finish it all and set another bottle on the floor next to Echizen’s pillow once the younger man had lain down. Tezuka slipped into the futon from the other side, the small size forcing proximity. “Tomorrow,” he whispers into Echizen’s hair when the younger man opens his mouth to speak, “tomorrow we’ll say what needs to be said.” Tezuka had a feeling those words would not be news to either of them.