PoT: Whiskey and Ice
written for vlvtnightmare, thank you so much, you lovely lovely person~ <3
also for yukihyou who is the only other person i know who ships this pairing ^__~
Whiskey and Ice
by omi
Tezuka sat at his desk, going through for the final time the legal brief that was due for court submission tomorrow. The brief was the culminative effort of four associates, a secretarial team and himself for the past three and a half months, a mammoth 1400 page missive documenting a two year multi-billion dollar dispute with a rival bank.
His office was clean -- almost sterile. Thickly bounded documents and folders lined the shelves, and spilled down neatly in labelled stacks on the floor. A small leather couch for guests, with a folded blanket hidden discreetly in the top drawer of the steel filing cabinet. The remains of a dinner bento was neatly placed aside, for later discard. There were no plants, no pictures, no personal touches that could give a indicator of the person who worked there.
Tezuka Kunimitsu had been living in his office for the past ten days.
At twenty-nine, he was the youngest senior legal counsel in the history of the bank, faced with the single biggest case in his career so far and the pressure was on. Fortunately, he was no stranger to pressure.
Tezuka finished reading the final pages, and closed the folder. The brief had already been approved internally, and tomorrow morning, one of the secretariat would be driven to the offices of the Supreme Court of Japan with the document for submission. His work was done, for now at least, until the court date was set, and they ready for further battle.
In the meantime though, Tezuka could finally go home. He cleared his desk, locking away the more important documents into cabinets, and then a final reassuring double lock on his office door. There were still lights on, other colleagues working on their own briefs, and letters, and the million and one legal matters that the biggest bank in Japan finds itself embroiled in.
Tezuka walked quickly down the corridors, nodding a cordial farewell to the few who looked up at his approach and to the security guards on round-the-clock duty.
He strode through the lobby, and out into the still-bustling streets of Marunouchi. It was the first time in ten days that Tezuka had been out of his office building. He hesitated briefly on the steps of his office building, and looked at his wristwatch. 11pm. Not too late for a quick drink then. Decision made, he headed left, past carousing salarymen and office ladies, tiny ramen and yakitori stalls, down to the quiet bar in the side-streets of Ginza that he favoured.
It was, plainly put, a gay bar masquerading as a men's club. Quiet, discreet, a place where he could unwind without having to fend off unwelcome female attention, where he could pick up a male companion for the night if he so wanted, or just sit and unwind with a drink.
Tezuka pushed open an unmarked door, and walked in. An usher, pleasant-looking, uniformed, greeted him by name with a gentle smile, took his briefcase, and showed him to his usual table. There was a slight tinge of cigar smoke in the air, and low baritone conversations, dotted with occasional laughter created a counterpoint to soft jazz playing.
The unspoken rules of the place were elegantly simple, which Tezuka appreciated. The bar -- all wood and glass and discreet soft spotlights -- was where one sought for intimate companionship; the private rooms along the back and the plush muted grey booths lining the room were for privacy, where one could wine and dine; and the tables straddling the two areas were where one would sit and unwind and chat with no obligations for the rest of the night.
Tonight, all Tezuka wanted was a stiff drink, and peace and quiet. He sank into the leather recliner with something very much like relief even as a soft male tenor voice sounded above him, "We haven't seen you around for a long time now, Tezuka-san." The manager of the establishment stood before him, smiling.
"Ah," said Tezuka in agreement. "Business here seems excellent."
"We try our best," smiled the manager. "Our boss just brought in a '74 Laphroaig that I think you might like. Or if you'd like to try something a little different, we also have a 17 year old Strathisla..."
Tezuka's eyes gleamed and a corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "A '74 Laphroaig? Who did your boss have to kill to get that?"
The manager laughed. "I'm sure I wouldn't know. The Laphroaig then?"
"Nn, please."
"Right away sir," and the manager vanished with the smooth ease of one born to service.
Tezuka leaned back and closed his eyes, the pressures of the past months draining away to be replaced by the pleasant tingle of expectation. He'd been introduced to the pleasures of single malt whisky by a mentor after he graduated and had been hooked by the complexity of tastes and smells within the deceptively simple amber liquid. A '74 Laphroaig... Tezuka made a mental note to bring his old mentor along the next time. Sagaguichi-sensei would go into a drag bar in full drag for a taste, never mind a gay men's club...
"...Tezuka?" A deep low baritone voice asked.
Tezuka opened his eyes. Before him stood a tall suited man, with slightly hooded eyes, a shock of hair almost falling into his eyes.
"It is you," said the newcomer with a sense of satisfaction. "I thought it was when you first came in."
"Sanada…"
The man -- Sanada -- smiled, and claimed immediate possession of the recliner next to Tezuka's. His legs stretched out along Tezuka's, close enough to feel the heat radiating off the other man, without actually touching it. He leaned in slightly towards Tezuka, his eyes filled with speculation. "You're the last person I'd expect to see here. Come here often?"
Tezuka successfully fought off the impulse to shift away, "Always the aggressor…” he murmured somewhat coldly. “You obviously haven't changed much since Rikkai, Sanada."
Sanada laughed and brushed off the implied slight with ease. “You’re one to talk. You look exactly the same as before, the aloof Ice King of Tennis, with everyone chasing after you.”
“Hardly everyone,” Tezuka replied calmly. “Wasn’t it beneath the Emperors of Rikkai’s dignity to chase after people?”
“Oh, I chased… I chased if the opponent was worthy…” His voice lowered, until it was almost a throaty caress and he looked at Tezuka from beneath hooded eyelids. In his mind’s eye, he saw Tezuka again, the old Tezuka of his youth, in Seigaku colours, cold, clean and bright, on the tennis courts. “You haven’t changed at all…”
And a moment’s silence fell between them.
The manager came then, and broke the silence as he gracefully placed a large cognac-sniffer before Tezuka. “Your Laphroaig, Tezuka-san. And for your companion?”
Sanada broke in, frowning a little at the interruption. “I’ll have the same,” he ordered impatiently. “On the rocks.”
The manager stiffened minutely. “Ah…”
“You don’t desecrate a good Laphroaig with ice,” Tezuka told Sanada, his brows slightly furrowed, and then to the manager, “Get him another Laphroaig, straight up, and a pitcher of water on the side.”
“Very good sir,” murmured the manager.
Sanada watched the manager disappear behind the bar, and muttered in an amused half-growl. “And you call me a tyrant…”
“I never said you were a tyrant,” said Tezuka briskly. And then, with a tiny quirk to his lips, “Besides, didn’t you acknowledge me as king just now?”
“Emperor trounces King.”
“Not if they have separate territories, he doesn’t,”
Heated hooded eyes met and clashed with a pair of steady cool brown eyes. And just as suddenly, the two men laughed and the tension dissolved into a warm comfortable companionship.
“Gods, I haven’t been called Emperor for the past ten years…”
“It has been a while, yes,” agreed Tezuka, as a glass and pitcher was deposited in front of Sanada. He held up his glass. “To your first Laphroaig.”
Sanada picked up the sniffer in front of him with a raised brow. “I’m more of a beer person myself, so you are going to have to tell me, why is it okay to add water, and not ice?”
Tezuka raised his own glass and inhaled before answering. “Single malt whiskey is exactly like fine wine. The smell and taste differs across regions to region, and from the different vintages.” His voice took on an unconscious warmth and enthusiasm as he warmed to his subject.
“Even within the same glass, the bouquet changes, evolving, minute to minute from the warmth from your hands… Adding ice may dilute the alcohol content, but it also destroys more than half of the smell. Adding water, on the other hand, dilutes the drink but releases a greater aroma. Now, this Laphroaig here, obviously doesn’t need it.”
“I bow to your obvious expertise. Kanpai,” Sanada toasted Tezuka, before taking his own cautious sniff.
And blinked.
A barrage of smells assaulted his senses. A faint scent of roasted tea leaves shifted and gave way to the smell of burning autumn leaves, to a hint of exotic spices.
Tezuka’s eyes were bright over his own glass. “Now take a sip.”
Sanada sipped. And was quiet for a long moment.
“I can see why you like it so much…” Sanada admitted with a long sigh. Then he smiled, with a strange pang in his eyes. “So have you swapped your passion for tennis for darker passions then, Tezuka?”
“I’m not an alcoholic, if that’s what you’re asking,” Tezuka replied dryly. “I prefer the term afficionado, thank you.”
“Actually,” said Sanada as he caught and held Tezuka’s gaze in all seriousness. “I am asking if you are really a homosexual.”
Tezuka sat very, very still.
"I’m gay," said Sanada bluntly. "I’ve known it ever since I was fourteen and still battling it out on the tennis courts with a bunch of too-pretty team mates. So you don't have to worry if I'm going to spill your secret. You just have to tell me if I should really be this excited that you've shown up in a place like this, or if you're actually straight and just here for good booze."
Tezuka let out a long breath. "... You really haven't changed much, have you? Always agressive." He took a fortifying sip of whiskey, letting the flavours meld and burst across his tongue before finally, almost reluctantly, answering. "And the answer to your question is, yes. I am gay."
"Good." A pleased, anticipatory, predatory smile grew and bloomed on Sanada's face.
Tezuka frowned. "I thought you liked too-pretty young things... What about Yukimura?"
Sanada laughed out loud, a low quick exhalation of pure amusement. "Yukimura? No. No way. He would have gobbled me up without having to pause to spit out my bones. Besides, he's safely married now and they've a baby boy on the way. He's getting Niou to be the kid's godfather, of all people."
"Really? Nn..." Tezuka raised an eyebrow.
"What about you? There were all those rumours about you and Fuji, and later, that Echizen Ryouma." Sanada's eyes were bright and he leaned in closer towards Tezuka.
"Nn? No. Not Fuji -- at least, not now," replied Tezuka abstractly as he swirled the whiskey in his glass and studied the glowing amber liquid. "Fuji... is a people person. Not gender-specific. As long as the person is complex enough to hold his interest..." A sudden self-deprecating smile came and fled across Tezuka's face. "Outside of tennis, you'd find that I am really a very boring person."
"I think you're a very interesting person," murmured Sanada guilelessly as he looked deeply into Tezuka's eyes.
Tezuka looked back and retorted sardonically. "You like pretty young things."
"But that was when I was much younger and shallow," Sanada replied smoothly. "Then I started to mature and cultivate the patience to appreciate the more subtle aspects of life... Like the complex bouquet in whiskeys--," he raised his glass to Tezuka, "or a truly beautiful person."
Tezuka bit back amusement. "That is truly a terrible spiel. You need to practice your pickup lines a little more."
"You didn't give me much to work with. Besides, I've always been better at the deed than at all the fancy dancing around in the beginning," frowned Sanada. "It's a man thing. At the end of the day, it's what you do that counts."
"Yes, but the question is, will I respect you in the morning?" Tezuka asked amusedly.
Sanada jutted his chin with classic Rikkai arrogrance. "Only one way to find out. Are you game?"
He held out his hand towards Tezuka, waiting, a fierce light in his eyes.
"Your place, or mine?"
~fin~
also for yukihyou who is the only other person i know who ships this pairing ^__~
Whiskey and Ice
by omi
Tezuka sat at his desk, going through for the final time the legal brief that was due for court submission tomorrow. The brief was the culminative effort of four associates, a secretarial team and himself for the past three and a half months, a mammoth 1400 page missive documenting a two year multi-billion dollar dispute with a rival bank.
His office was clean -- almost sterile. Thickly bounded documents and folders lined the shelves, and spilled down neatly in labelled stacks on the floor. A small leather couch for guests, with a folded blanket hidden discreetly in the top drawer of the steel filing cabinet. The remains of a dinner bento was neatly placed aside, for later discard. There were no plants, no pictures, no personal touches that could give a indicator of the person who worked there.
Tezuka Kunimitsu had been living in his office for the past ten days.
At twenty-nine, he was the youngest senior legal counsel in the history of the bank, faced with the single biggest case in his career so far and the pressure was on. Fortunately, he was no stranger to pressure.
Tezuka finished reading the final pages, and closed the folder. The brief had already been approved internally, and tomorrow morning, one of the secretariat would be driven to the offices of the Supreme Court of Japan with the document for submission. His work was done, for now at least, until the court date was set, and they ready for further battle.
In the meantime though, Tezuka could finally go home. He cleared his desk, locking away the more important documents into cabinets, and then a final reassuring double lock on his office door. There were still lights on, other colleagues working on their own briefs, and letters, and the million and one legal matters that the biggest bank in Japan finds itself embroiled in.
Tezuka walked quickly down the corridors, nodding a cordial farewell to the few who looked up at his approach and to the security guards on round-the-clock duty.
He strode through the lobby, and out into the still-bustling streets of Marunouchi. It was the first time in ten days that Tezuka had been out of his office building. He hesitated briefly on the steps of his office building, and looked at his wristwatch. 11pm. Not too late for a quick drink then. Decision made, he headed left, past carousing salarymen and office ladies, tiny ramen and yakitori stalls, down to the quiet bar in the side-streets of Ginza that he favoured.
It was, plainly put, a gay bar masquerading as a men's club. Quiet, discreet, a place where he could unwind without having to fend off unwelcome female attention, where he could pick up a male companion for the night if he so wanted, or just sit and unwind with a drink.
Tezuka pushed open an unmarked door, and walked in. An usher, pleasant-looking, uniformed, greeted him by name with a gentle smile, took his briefcase, and showed him to his usual table. There was a slight tinge of cigar smoke in the air, and low baritone conversations, dotted with occasional laughter created a counterpoint to soft jazz playing.
The unspoken rules of the place were elegantly simple, which Tezuka appreciated. The bar -- all wood and glass and discreet soft spotlights -- was where one sought for intimate companionship; the private rooms along the back and the plush muted grey booths lining the room were for privacy, where one could wine and dine; and the tables straddling the two areas were where one would sit and unwind and chat with no obligations for the rest of the night.
Tonight, all Tezuka wanted was a stiff drink, and peace and quiet. He sank into the leather recliner with something very much like relief even as a soft male tenor voice sounded above him, "We haven't seen you around for a long time now, Tezuka-san." The manager of the establishment stood before him, smiling.
"Ah," said Tezuka in agreement. "Business here seems excellent."
"We try our best," smiled the manager. "Our boss just brought in a '74 Laphroaig that I think you might like. Or if you'd like to try something a little different, we also have a 17 year old Strathisla..."
Tezuka's eyes gleamed and a corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "A '74 Laphroaig? Who did your boss have to kill to get that?"
The manager laughed. "I'm sure I wouldn't know. The Laphroaig then?"
"Nn, please."
"Right away sir," and the manager vanished with the smooth ease of one born to service.
Tezuka leaned back and closed his eyes, the pressures of the past months draining away to be replaced by the pleasant tingle of expectation. He'd been introduced to the pleasures of single malt whisky by a mentor after he graduated and had been hooked by the complexity of tastes and smells within the deceptively simple amber liquid. A '74 Laphroaig... Tezuka made a mental note to bring his old mentor along the next time. Sagaguichi-sensei would go into a drag bar in full drag for a taste, never mind a gay men's club...
"...Tezuka?" A deep low baritone voice asked.
Tezuka opened his eyes. Before him stood a tall suited man, with slightly hooded eyes, a shock of hair almost falling into his eyes.
"It is you," said the newcomer with a sense of satisfaction. "I thought it was when you first came in."
"Sanada…"
The man -- Sanada -- smiled, and claimed immediate possession of the recliner next to Tezuka's. His legs stretched out along Tezuka's, close enough to feel the heat radiating off the other man, without actually touching it. He leaned in slightly towards Tezuka, his eyes filled with speculation. "You're the last person I'd expect to see here. Come here often?"
Tezuka successfully fought off the impulse to shift away, "Always the aggressor…” he murmured somewhat coldly. “You obviously haven't changed much since Rikkai, Sanada."
Sanada laughed and brushed off the implied slight with ease. “You’re one to talk. You look exactly the same as before, the aloof Ice King of Tennis, with everyone chasing after you.”
“Hardly everyone,” Tezuka replied calmly. “Wasn’t it beneath the Emperors of Rikkai’s dignity to chase after people?”
“Oh, I chased… I chased if the opponent was worthy…” His voice lowered, until it was almost a throaty caress and he looked at Tezuka from beneath hooded eyelids. In his mind’s eye, he saw Tezuka again, the old Tezuka of his youth, in Seigaku colours, cold, clean and bright, on the tennis courts. “You haven’t changed at all…”
And a moment’s silence fell between them.
The manager came then, and broke the silence as he gracefully placed a large cognac-sniffer before Tezuka. “Your Laphroaig, Tezuka-san. And for your companion?”
Sanada broke in, frowning a little at the interruption. “I’ll have the same,” he ordered impatiently. “On the rocks.”
The manager stiffened minutely. “Ah…”
“You don’t desecrate a good Laphroaig with ice,” Tezuka told Sanada, his brows slightly furrowed, and then to the manager, “Get him another Laphroaig, straight up, and a pitcher of water on the side.”
“Very good sir,” murmured the manager.
Sanada watched the manager disappear behind the bar, and muttered in an amused half-growl. “And you call me a tyrant…”
“I never said you were a tyrant,” said Tezuka briskly. And then, with a tiny quirk to his lips, “Besides, didn’t you acknowledge me as king just now?”
“Emperor trounces King.”
“Not if they have separate territories, he doesn’t,”
Heated hooded eyes met and clashed with a pair of steady cool brown eyes. And just as suddenly, the two men laughed and the tension dissolved into a warm comfortable companionship.
“Gods, I haven’t been called Emperor for the past ten years…”
“It has been a while, yes,” agreed Tezuka, as a glass and pitcher was deposited in front of Sanada. He held up his glass. “To your first Laphroaig.”
Sanada picked up the sniffer in front of him with a raised brow. “I’m more of a beer person myself, so you are going to have to tell me, why is it okay to add water, and not ice?”
Tezuka raised his own glass and inhaled before answering. “Single malt whiskey is exactly like fine wine. The smell and taste differs across regions to region, and from the different vintages.” His voice took on an unconscious warmth and enthusiasm as he warmed to his subject.
“Even within the same glass, the bouquet changes, evolving, minute to minute from the warmth from your hands… Adding ice may dilute the alcohol content, but it also destroys more than half of the smell. Adding water, on the other hand, dilutes the drink but releases a greater aroma. Now, this Laphroaig here, obviously doesn’t need it.”
“I bow to your obvious expertise. Kanpai,” Sanada toasted Tezuka, before taking his own cautious sniff.
And blinked.
A barrage of smells assaulted his senses. A faint scent of roasted tea leaves shifted and gave way to the smell of burning autumn leaves, to a hint of exotic spices.
Tezuka’s eyes were bright over his own glass. “Now take a sip.”
Sanada sipped. And was quiet for a long moment.
“I can see why you like it so much…” Sanada admitted with a long sigh. Then he smiled, with a strange pang in his eyes. “So have you swapped your passion for tennis for darker passions then, Tezuka?”
“I’m not an alcoholic, if that’s what you’re asking,” Tezuka replied dryly. “I prefer the term afficionado, thank you.”
“Actually,” said Sanada as he caught and held Tezuka’s gaze in all seriousness. “I am asking if you are really a homosexual.”
Tezuka sat very, very still.
"I’m gay," said Sanada bluntly. "I’ve known it ever since I was fourteen and still battling it out on the tennis courts with a bunch of too-pretty team mates. So you don't have to worry if I'm going to spill your secret. You just have to tell me if I should really be this excited that you've shown up in a place like this, or if you're actually straight and just here for good booze."
Tezuka let out a long breath. "... You really haven't changed much, have you? Always agressive." He took a fortifying sip of whiskey, letting the flavours meld and burst across his tongue before finally, almost reluctantly, answering. "And the answer to your question is, yes. I am gay."
"Good." A pleased, anticipatory, predatory smile grew and bloomed on Sanada's face.
Tezuka frowned. "I thought you liked too-pretty young things... What about Yukimura?"
Sanada laughed out loud, a low quick exhalation of pure amusement. "Yukimura? No. No way. He would have gobbled me up without having to pause to spit out my bones. Besides, he's safely married now and they've a baby boy on the way. He's getting Niou to be the kid's godfather, of all people."
"Really? Nn..." Tezuka raised an eyebrow.
"What about you? There were all those rumours about you and Fuji, and later, that Echizen Ryouma." Sanada's eyes were bright and he leaned in closer towards Tezuka.
"Nn? No. Not Fuji -- at least, not now," replied Tezuka abstractly as he swirled the whiskey in his glass and studied the glowing amber liquid. "Fuji... is a people person. Not gender-specific. As long as the person is complex enough to hold his interest..." A sudden self-deprecating smile came and fled across Tezuka's face. "Outside of tennis, you'd find that I am really a very boring person."
"I think you're a very interesting person," murmured Sanada guilelessly as he looked deeply into Tezuka's eyes.
Tezuka looked back and retorted sardonically. "You like pretty young things."
"But that was when I was much younger and shallow," Sanada replied smoothly. "Then I started to mature and cultivate the patience to appreciate the more subtle aspects of life... Like the complex bouquet in whiskeys--," he raised his glass to Tezuka, "or a truly beautiful person."
Tezuka bit back amusement. "That is truly a terrible spiel. You need to practice your pickup lines a little more."
"You didn't give me much to work with. Besides, I've always been better at the deed than at all the fancy dancing around in the beginning," frowned Sanada. "It's a man thing. At the end of the day, it's what you do that counts."
"Yes, but the question is, will I respect you in the morning?" Tezuka asked amusedly.
Sanada jutted his chin with classic Rikkai arrogrance. "Only one way to find out. Are you game?"
He held out his hand towards Tezuka, waiting, a fierce light in his eyes.
"Your place, or mine?"
~fin~