[cirstea]
AN APPLE A DAY
by daisy_chan
On one stormy, miserable day, Fuji puffed out his cheeks in boredom, drew little smiley faces in the condensation on his office window, and decided he had cancer.
"I have cancer," Fuji informed his immediate superior, Oishi-san, whose hands were already shaking from his tenth cup of coffee and fourth dose of anxiety medication. "Can I go home early?"
Oishi made a straggled sound and started to scratch out a flow chart of how to reallocate Fuji's work for the rest of the day and for after he was dead from a cancerous death. Fuji almost felt bad; the cost to the company in medical benefits, overtime, and increased turnover was going to give Oishi a hernia.
But Inui-san from the Finance department liked that sort of thing, so he guessed it all evened out.
Fuji text messaged Yuuta from the train ("How much do you know about the survival rates for cancer patients? ^__^" and "Now you get to be the man of the family, just like you always wanted! Isn't that great? :D") and curled his fingers around the tips of his hair.
If he decided to go for chemotherapy, he might lose his hair, but Fuji felt pretty optimist about it. There were always wigs, and hats had become quiet fashionable lately.
They went through a tunnel and Fuji closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting the underground lights flash and strobe as they scream past them, and Fuji would make an analogy about life here if it weren't so trite and typical.
When they emerged from the tunnel, Fuji found that Eiji had left him several hysterical voice mails, the final one a threat to hurt himself with a convenient Exacto Knife. Since Eiji was a kindergarten teacher, Fuji believed there is nothing sharper than a crayon in his immediate vicinity and deleted them all. Such obvious plays for attention should be ignored at all costs.
When Fuji arrived at his stop, he walked cheerfully to the hospital and checked himself in as a cancer patient. The nurse came by after he'd changed into his little paper gown and apologies profusely, as they seemed to have lost all record of him ever being tested or treated for cancer.
Fuji patted her arm good naturedly. She must be new.
Tezuka himself came after making Fuji wait the usual length of time, and Fuji was ready for him, sprawled across the bed with his thigh spread just enough to be a little whorish and looked up from behind his fringe in a sickly way.
In retaliation, his fringe tried to stab his eyes out and Fuji had to shake his head to the side in a cancerous way, so as not to break the illusion.
Maybe going bald wouldn't be so horrible after all.
He could maybe even talk Tezuka into rubbing his bald, cancerous head with hot oil. He would sort of look like a tennis ball. Tezuka might enjoy that.
Tezuka looked out the window nonplussed. "Wasn't it raining earlier?"
"Oh," Fuji sat up, letting the hospital gown fall off one shoulder. "I didn't feel like rain anymore. After all, I have cancer now, so that would really be over doing it, wouldn't it?"
Tezuka turned to look at him. Fuji shrugged adorably to emphasize his bare shoulder, but Tezuka's eyes did not leave his. Some might have called it a soul connection, but Fuji knew Tezuka just had very good manners.
"Aa," Tezuka said, as if that explained everything. And it did.
Fuji's phone chimed again and this time it was Yuuta replying back with as many "…"s allowed by modern phone technology. How cute.
Fuji beamed as he replied back, "You'll go wig shopping with me if I live until tomorrow, right?"
Looking back up at Tezuka, Fuji put on his smoldering face, but Tezuka seemed unmoved. "Aren't you going to examine me, sensei?"
"Fuji, as I said the last time you admitted yourself, there's nothing wrong with you. Go home."
"I have cancer," Fuji assured him. "And if you give me a few more hours, I'll even tensei up some tumors for you to sample."
Tezuka looked like he was contemplating beating Fuji's tumors down with his medical records. Instead, he pushed his glasses further up his nose. "You can't do this every time my work hours increase, Fuji. Hospitals are a place for sick people. We cannot continue to indulge this behavior."
Reaching out, Fuji pried one of Tezuka's hands away from his folder and linked their fingers together lightly. "Come home," Fuji demanded with a sharp smile, "and I'll indulge in any behavior of your choosing."
Tezuka looked down at their hands. "My shift doesn't end for another four hours."
"Take a coffee break."
Already working his other hand under the flimsy gown, Tezuka shook his head sternly before sucking at that spot along Fuji's jaw bone that made his moan appreciatively.
He pulled away from Fuji could properly get Tezuka's belt under. "I'll see you in four hours," Tezuka said with finality, as he got up. "And don't get burnt wasabi all over the stove in revenge again."
Fuji couldn't help smiling as the Tezuka fled out the door. "See if I let you near me with hot oil after I lose all my hair," Fuji call after him.
He stretched his arms cheerfully and went to collect his pants. Miraculously, Fuji felt rather cured.
by daisy_chan
On one stormy, miserable day, Fuji puffed out his cheeks in boredom, drew little smiley faces in the condensation on his office window, and decided he had cancer.
"I have cancer," Fuji informed his immediate superior, Oishi-san, whose hands were already shaking from his tenth cup of coffee and fourth dose of anxiety medication. "Can I go home early?"
Oishi made a straggled sound and started to scratch out a flow chart of how to reallocate Fuji's work for the rest of the day and for after he was dead from a cancerous death. Fuji almost felt bad; the cost to the company in medical benefits, overtime, and increased turnover was going to give Oishi a hernia.
But Inui-san from the Finance department liked that sort of thing, so he guessed it all evened out.
Fuji text messaged Yuuta from the train ("How much do you know about the survival rates for cancer patients? ^__^" and "Now you get to be the man of the family, just like you always wanted! Isn't that great? :D") and curled his fingers around the tips of his hair.
If he decided to go for chemotherapy, he might lose his hair, but Fuji felt pretty optimist about it. There were always wigs, and hats had become quiet fashionable lately.
They went through a tunnel and Fuji closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting the underground lights flash and strobe as they scream past them, and Fuji would make an analogy about life here if it weren't so trite and typical.
When they emerged from the tunnel, Fuji found that Eiji had left him several hysterical voice mails, the final one a threat to hurt himself with a convenient Exacto Knife. Since Eiji was a kindergarten teacher, Fuji believed there is nothing sharper than a crayon in his immediate vicinity and deleted them all. Such obvious plays for attention should be ignored at all costs.
When Fuji arrived at his stop, he walked cheerfully to the hospital and checked himself in as a cancer patient. The nurse came by after he'd changed into his little paper gown and apologies profusely, as they seemed to have lost all record of him ever being tested or treated for cancer.
Fuji patted her arm good naturedly. She must be new.
Tezuka himself came after making Fuji wait the usual length of time, and Fuji was ready for him, sprawled across the bed with his thigh spread just enough to be a little whorish and looked up from behind his fringe in a sickly way.
In retaliation, his fringe tried to stab his eyes out and Fuji had to shake his head to the side in a cancerous way, so as not to break the illusion.
Maybe going bald wouldn't be so horrible after all.
He could maybe even talk Tezuka into rubbing his bald, cancerous head with hot oil. He would sort of look like a tennis ball. Tezuka might enjoy that.
Tezuka looked out the window nonplussed. "Wasn't it raining earlier?"
"Oh," Fuji sat up, letting the hospital gown fall off one shoulder. "I didn't feel like rain anymore. After all, I have cancer now, so that would really be over doing it, wouldn't it?"
Tezuka turned to look at him. Fuji shrugged adorably to emphasize his bare shoulder, but Tezuka's eyes did not leave his. Some might have called it a soul connection, but Fuji knew Tezuka just had very good manners.
"Aa," Tezuka said, as if that explained everything. And it did.
Fuji's phone chimed again and this time it was Yuuta replying back with as many "…"s allowed by modern phone technology. How cute.
Fuji beamed as he replied back, "You'll go wig shopping with me if I live until tomorrow, right?"
Looking back up at Tezuka, Fuji put on his smoldering face, but Tezuka seemed unmoved. "Aren't you going to examine me, sensei?"
"Fuji, as I said the last time you admitted yourself, there's nothing wrong with you. Go home."
"I have cancer," Fuji assured him. "And if you give me a few more hours, I'll even tensei up some tumors for you to sample."
Tezuka looked like he was contemplating beating Fuji's tumors down with his medical records. Instead, he pushed his glasses further up his nose. "You can't do this every time my work hours increase, Fuji. Hospitals are a place for sick people. We cannot continue to indulge this behavior."
Reaching out, Fuji pried one of Tezuka's hands away from his folder and linked their fingers together lightly. "Come home," Fuji demanded with a sharp smile, "and I'll indulge in any behavior of your choosing."
Tezuka looked down at their hands. "My shift doesn't end for another four hours."
"Take a coffee break."
Already working his other hand under the flimsy gown, Tezuka shook his head sternly before sucking at that spot along Fuji's jaw bone that made his moan appreciatively.
He pulled away from Fuji could properly get Tezuka's belt under. "I'll see you in four hours," Tezuka said with finality, as he got up. "And don't get burnt wasabi all over the stove in revenge again."
Fuji couldn't help smiling as the Tezuka fled out the door. "See if I let you near me with hot oil after I lose all my hair," Fuji call after him.
He stretched his arms cheerfully and went to collect his pants. Miraculously, Fuji felt rather cured.