Slots [Prince of Tennis: Tezuka/Fuji, picfor1000 prompt]
title: Slots
fandom: Prince of Tennis
pairing: Tezuka/Fuji
summary: (Set with Tezuka in Germany); Fuji tests his self-restraint.
notes: Written for picfor1000. 1000 words exactly, according to JavaScript Kit Cut & Paste Word Count. My prompt was based upon metal, and the image is below.
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The first time he gets a serious urge to call Tezuka in Germany, he changes up a note not worth even a quarter of the amount the call would inevitably cost (an insane amount when you consider it would be to speak nothing much at all), and stands dropping them one-by-one into the slot of the pay-phone just to hear them clink their way through the mechanism and eventually fall back out at the bottom. If you take too long to enter your money, the phone simply discards it; it will not wait for you.
He keeps the coins, walks home with them pooled in his hands, fingers curling around them protectively, and puts them into one of Yuuta's old money boxes that never had a chance to be used. He calls it his Lack Of Self-Restraint Fund, and whenever he gets the urge to call Tezuka, he picks up the pot and takes it to the furthest phone-box he knows of (if he can rid himself of the urge before he even gets there, he treats himself with a bit of the money inside). The coins jangle the entire way, and he begins to associate the sound with a small amount of failure.
The technology is fierce these days; no payphone box has a simple phone in it anymore, but a world of possibilities. A keyboard and internet connection to tap into, a web-cam or video-phone if your call is local (it's cheaper so after all). He knows he has options, but he ignores them all and thinks of the traditional sound of static on the phone line as a connection is made across the oceans, of the way the connection seems to phase in and out. Besides, he has email set up at home, and that is paid for as part of a package; the computer is mostly for Yumiko's work, but she lets anyone borrow it for their own work or personal business alike. After the initial shock of an email from Tezuka (a one-liner, no less), he had replied in the comfort of his own home, with a single sentence of his own. They trade witticisms almost daily, saying nothing much at all. Everything Tezuka needs to know about school and tennis will come from Oishi.
One time, Yuuta's moneybox is so light in his hand that he physically stops and realises that inside there is less than half the amount that used to be in there. He knows too, that he has not spent all of it on himself; sometimes he leaves a coin or two in the bottom of the phone to encourage someone else to not make their call. He realises in the same instant that the small amount of coins is not going to take him long enough to drop into the slot, and a overwhelming wave of fear comes over him as he wonders if this will be the time he gives in. All he has to do is enter his name and his home number and the operator will direct the charges there. His fingers tremble terribly over the phone pad, shaking so much that he knows they might stab the numbers of their own accord, as opposed to his actual wanting them to, and snatches it away. There is someone waiting outside to use the phone when he is done, so he takes a breath deep down inside himself and composes his thoughts.
It is in that moment that he discovers he does not have the urge any longer after all. Fear had lead him further this time than anything else, and the game changes completely.
He treats himself with all the money left; buys ice cream for the coldness on his tongue, buys a new shirt and pretends it is not in Tezuka's size, but his own. He wants to tread on the moneybox until he crushes it, and his refrain is not because of Yuuta; he has never noticed it gone. Instead he takes a trowel in his free hand, walks to the bottom of the garden, and buries the moneybox firmly in the ground.
There is an international call-card atop his dresser; he and Tezuka had spilt the cost between them, knowing full well he would be the one to give in first. He had not been trying to prove both himself and Tezuka wrong, he had just been judging the amount of time needed to consider someone's space fully extended.
Tezuka does not defy the limits in this; the phone does not start to ring as he reaches for the green call-card to scratch off the sheen and reveal the code. It is not because of his extreme sense of discipline and restraint that he has not given in himself. It is not because Fuji is weaker that he finally dials the number for real.
"Has it been enjoyable so far?" He asks when the phone is answered, and knows Tezuka will know he is not speaking about Germany itself.
"In it's way." Tezuka replies primly, in his way.
"I don't relish the pain myself," Fuji's reply is sour, "but I can find pleasure in having made it enjoyable for you."
"So that's the reason you did not call." Tezuka says with finality. "I wondered."
Fuji smiles. "I thought you knew. How are you feeling now?" Again, he knows Tezuka will know this is not about Germany.
"Satisfied." Tezuka says shortly. "And slightly frustrated."
Fuji closes the door to his room and begins to murmur words he has kept locked up inside his head for weeks as he lays himself down on his bed. Really, he says absolutely nothing at all, and the desired reaction asserts itself quickly.
When Tezuka returns to Japan he discovers Fuji has developed an extreme aversion to small change, which turns out fine because one day both he and Tezuka are making enough money in their own fields that neither of them have access to very small amounts of coin.
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