PoT Fic: "A Mature Relationship" (PG-13) - Tezuka/Atobe
Title: "A Mature Relationship" 
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Tezuka/Atobe
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,032
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: The press is inevitably curious about Atobe and Tezuka's married life. Tezuka is not amused except that he really is.
Notes: Yet another future fic in the cliched verse where they're tennis pros. Hey, it's still Christmas season. I'm allowed mindless schmoop for a few more days. :P
A Mature Relationship
by Kantayra
“So,” the reporter of the day fluttered her eyelashes at him, “my readers are just dying to hear. What’s Atobe Keigo like at home?”
Journalists for celebrity magazines were always the worst about this sort of thing. Tezuka sighed and resigned himself to not talking about tennis for far longer than he would have liked. “Our marriage is like any another,” he shrugged and took a sip of the water provided. “There’s not much to say.”
“What about all that bravado? Is he like that at home, too?”
“Well,” Tezuka conceded, “everyone behaves a bit differently in public than at home. But he’s always been a very, er, proud man. It’s not all just an act, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Hmm, fascinating,” the reporter commented, even though it really wasn’t. “And all his drama-queen theatrics?”
Tezuka stiffened. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied, and tried not to think too much about last night…
***
Tezuka had been in bed, engrossed in what he was somewhat ashamed to admit was a cheap, pulp novel, when the door to the bedroom slowly swung open. It was well past nine o’clock. Tezuka quickly forced himself to memorize his page number - books had a habit of being flung out of his hands and across the room on nights when Atobe came home late - and looked expectantly up at the doorway.
There was no one there. Tezuka frowned, trying to make sense of this. Servants were supposed to knock, but even they wouldn’t just open the door and leave. Was it possible a breeze had opened it? Tezuka had thought he’d heard the knob turn, though. For a moment, Tezuka was thoroughly baffled.
Then, a gurgle sounded from the floor.
Tezuka sat further up and peered over the edge of the bed. Of course, that made so much more sense: Atobe had opened the door and then promptly decided to crawl on the floor. Tezuka sighed to himself and returned to his book. Whatever Atobe was up to, it seemed like it would take a while.
Tezuka finished two more paragraphs before the bed shifted slightly with the impact of a weight. He looked up to see that Atobe had apparently crawled his way to the end of the bed now and had just slapped his left palm against the comforter at the foot of the bed. Atobe’s splayed fingers were the only part of him that was currently visible but, as Tezuka watched, those fingers strained and pushed up slowly.
Inch by inch, Atobe’s flexed left bicep came into view. It was rather a lovely sight. The muscle bulged and tightened, and then Atobe’s whole arm was propped up on the bed, followed by Atobe’s shoulder and head. Atobe’s right arm came up slowly, straining all the while, and then that hand slapped down onto the mattress, too, one arm’s length further than the left hand.
“Tezuka…” Atobe groaned, and he actually managed to make his voice sound parched.
Tezuka smirked to himself and buried his nose back in his book. “Later,” he teased. “I’m almost done with this chapter.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Atobe crawl further up onto the bed, hands stretching out toward him desperately.
“Please, Tezuka…” Atobe rasped. “Crappy day…”
Tezuka bit his lip to fight back his snicker and tried to force himself to read the page in front of him. Atobe had now crawled his way up to Tezuka’s feet, and it didn’t seem like he’d be stopping soon.
“Dying…” Atobe moaned in agony, like a man who’d just crossed the Sahara. “Need… Sex!”
“Ah,” Tezuka said in his driest voice, “I was not aware that such an affliction could be fatal.”
“Tezuka, please…” Atobe’s right hand had now reached Tezuka’s waist, and he pulled himself slowly up Tezuka’s body. “Can’t last… much longer!”
“Just wait until I finish this chapter. It’s only two more pages.” Tezuka checked.
“Too long…” Atobe’s gasped in agony. “Need you now! Without sex… will die!”
“Without sex, will not use proper grammatical subjects again, either?” Tezuka guessed.
Atobe’s left hand came right up under the book and caught the edge of the blanket covering Tezuka’s chest. Tezuka watched, with amusement, as Atobe pulled himself up under the book, through Tezuka’s arms, until they were face-to-face, only inches apart.
“Quick,” Atobe begged, “make love to me before it’s too late!”
Tezuka let his smile just touch the corners of his lips and set his book reluctantly aside to wrap his arms more fully around the indomitable creature who’d just inserted himself between them. “All right,” he finally agreed, “I find your arguments persuasive.”
“Hmm, Tezuka,” Atobe hummed in rapture.
“However,” Tezuka informed him sternly, “in the future, I would find such an act much more convincing if you were to remove your clothes first.” Tezuka rolled Atobe back onto the bed and quickly began to remedy this grievous oversight.
“Mmm,” Atobe writhed beneath him. “So noted. Now: Sex!”
“Now,” Tezuka agreed huskily.
***
The reporter looked somewhat put off by Tezuka’s answer. Tezuka forced himself to snap his attention back to the here and now.
“I don’t know where the press has gotten all these silly ideas about us,” Tezuka tried to placate her, “but I can assure you that we’re both adults in a mature relationship. There’s really not much to write about there.”
“Ah, of course,” the reporter smiled brightly at him once more. “But you can’t blame me for trying to get a good story for my readers.”
“Of course not,” Tezuka agreed lightly. “Now, was there anything further? It’s been a rather long day of training.”
“I think we can call it a day,” she agreed, “but be sure to tell that husband of yours not to be stranger.”
Tezuka managed not to flinch at the inevitability of Atobe doing yet another personal article. “I’ll tell him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a decent drive ahead of me, and there’s a book I’d very much like to finish before my husband gets home.”
Even Tezuka was amazed that he managed to keep a straight face through that.
As always, comments are appreciated.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Tezuka/Atobe
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,032
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: The press is inevitably curious about Atobe and Tezuka's married life. Tezuka is not amused except that he really is.
Notes: Yet another future fic in the cliched verse where they're tennis pros. Hey, it's still Christmas season. I'm allowed mindless schmoop for a few more days. :P
A Mature Relationship
by Kantayra
“So,” the reporter of the day fluttered her eyelashes at him, “my readers are just dying to hear. What’s Atobe Keigo like at home?”
Journalists for celebrity magazines were always the worst about this sort of thing. Tezuka sighed and resigned himself to not talking about tennis for far longer than he would have liked. “Our marriage is like any another,” he shrugged and took a sip of the water provided. “There’s not much to say.”
“What about all that bravado? Is he like that at home, too?”
“Well,” Tezuka conceded, “everyone behaves a bit differently in public than at home. But he’s always been a very, er, proud man. It’s not all just an act, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Hmm, fascinating,” the reporter commented, even though it really wasn’t. “And all his drama-queen theatrics?”
Tezuka stiffened. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied, and tried not to think too much about last night…
***
Tezuka had been in bed, engrossed in what he was somewhat ashamed to admit was a cheap, pulp novel, when the door to the bedroom slowly swung open. It was well past nine o’clock. Tezuka quickly forced himself to memorize his page number - books had a habit of being flung out of his hands and across the room on nights when Atobe came home late - and looked expectantly up at the doorway.
There was no one there. Tezuka frowned, trying to make sense of this. Servants were supposed to knock, but even they wouldn’t just open the door and leave. Was it possible a breeze had opened it? Tezuka had thought he’d heard the knob turn, though. For a moment, Tezuka was thoroughly baffled.
Then, a gurgle sounded from the floor.
Tezuka sat further up and peered over the edge of the bed. Of course, that made so much more sense: Atobe had opened the door and then promptly decided to crawl on the floor. Tezuka sighed to himself and returned to his book. Whatever Atobe was up to, it seemed like it would take a while.
Tezuka finished two more paragraphs before the bed shifted slightly with the impact of a weight. He looked up to see that Atobe had apparently crawled his way to the end of the bed now and had just slapped his left palm against the comforter at the foot of the bed. Atobe’s splayed fingers were the only part of him that was currently visible but, as Tezuka watched, those fingers strained and pushed up slowly.
Inch by inch, Atobe’s flexed left bicep came into view. It was rather a lovely sight. The muscle bulged and tightened, and then Atobe’s whole arm was propped up on the bed, followed by Atobe’s shoulder and head. Atobe’s right arm came up slowly, straining all the while, and then that hand slapped down onto the mattress, too, one arm’s length further than the left hand.
“Tezuka…” Atobe groaned, and he actually managed to make his voice sound parched.
Tezuka smirked to himself and buried his nose back in his book. “Later,” he teased. “I’m almost done with this chapter.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Atobe crawl further up onto the bed, hands stretching out toward him desperately.
“Please, Tezuka…” Atobe rasped. “Crappy day…”
Tezuka bit his lip to fight back his snicker and tried to force himself to read the page in front of him. Atobe had now crawled his way up to Tezuka’s feet, and it didn’t seem like he’d be stopping soon.
“Dying…” Atobe moaned in agony, like a man who’d just crossed the Sahara. “Need… Sex!”
“Ah,” Tezuka said in his driest voice, “I was not aware that such an affliction could be fatal.”
“Tezuka, please…” Atobe’s right hand had now reached Tezuka’s waist, and he pulled himself slowly up Tezuka’s body. “Can’t last… much longer!”
“Just wait until I finish this chapter. It’s only two more pages.” Tezuka checked.
“Too long…” Atobe’s gasped in agony. “Need you now! Without sex… will die!”
“Without sex, will not use proper grammatical subjects again, either?” Tezuka guessed.
Atobe’s left hand came right up under the book and caught the edge of the blanket covering Tezuka’s chest. Tezuka watched, with amusement, as Atobe pulled himself up under the book, through Tezuka’s arms, until they were face-to-face, only inches apart.
“Quick,” Atobe begged, “make love to me before it’s too late!”
Tezuka let his smile just touch the corners of his lips and set his book reluctantly aside to wrap his arms more fully around the indomitable creature who’d just inserted himself between them. “All right,” he finally agreed, “I find your arguments persuasive.”
“Hmm, Tezuka,” Atobe hummed in rapture.
“However,” Tezuka informed him sternly, “in the future, I would find such an act much more convincing if you were to remove your clothes first.” Tezuka rolled Atobe back onto the bed and quickly began to remedy this grievous oversight.
“Mmm,” Atobe writhed beneath him. “So noted. Now: Sex!”
“Now,” Tezuka agreed huskily.
***
The reporter looked somewhat put off by Tezuka’s answer. Tezuka forced himself to snap his attention back to the here and now.
“I don’t know where the press has gotten all these silly ideas about us,” Tezuka tried to placate her, “but I can assure you that we’re both adults in a mature relationship. There’s really not much to write about there.”
“Ah, of course,” the reporter smiled brightly at him once more. “But you can’t blame me for trying to get a good story for my readers.”
“Of course not,” Tezuka agreed lightly. “Now, was there anything further? It’s been a rather long day of training.”
“I think we can call it a day,” she agreed, “but be sure to tell that husband of yours not to be stranger.”
Tezuka managed not to flinch at the inevitability of Atobe doing yet another personal article. “I’ll tell him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a decent drive ahead of me, and there’s a book I’d very much like to finish before my husband gets home.”
Even Tezuka was amazed that he managed to keep a straight face through that.
As always, comments are appreciated.