Merry Christmas 2004 - FujiRyo gift fic
This is most definitely NOT a drabble. Even though it was technically requested as one. 2950 words is not drabble length. Nope. *sigh* Let's just call this a giant FujiRyo christmas fic that serves as both a gift for specifically wakkawoo, but also the entire FujiRyo community as well.
Line I was supposed to use was: "Fuji-senpai, I need you to teach me... how to bake." and it was so. damn. hard. to somehow work out the series of events that would lead to Ryoma ditching common sense and actually asking that fateful question.
Point: I don't know if wasabi and honey taste good together. Been reading too much Yakitate!! Japan to know the difference. Frankly, I wouldn't try it myself, but what the hey, it's not like anybody's actually going to attempt to make some cake with horse radish and honey, right?
Lastly, I was debating on whether or not Ryoma should use the international "Happy Christmas" or American "Merry Christmas," but ultimately decided that since "Happy Christmas" makes me cringe, and he grew up in the States anyway, that he could use "merry" instead.
Happy Holidays people~ (and I hope you like this wakkawoo, despite all its mistakes and etc.)
Homemade
by kasugai gummie
-----
Approaching his senpai with a request to play tennis was one thing.
Asking him this on the other hand... was an entirely different matter.
"Eeeeeeeh? Occhibi wants to learn how to bake?? You want me to _teach_ you?!"
Ryoma nodded once, sharply, keeping his gaze affixed firmly on his sneakers and the tiled floor beneath. "Because Kikumaru-senpai is the only one on the team whose taste buds are remotely intact and won't blow up the microwave unlike Momo-senpai who lied when he told me he could make apple turnovers-" He wished he was wearing his cap so he could tug the brim over his eyes, but settled for keeping his head lowered into his uniform's collar as his mouth continued to run off without him.
"-and kaasan is too busy to teach me anyway. My cousin decided to spend the holidays with her boyfriend. But the guy's not too bad, if you discount him stealing away my cousin when I need her the most since I haven't really tried anything in the kitchen except for boiling water-"
This was beyond humiliating.
For what could have easily been the thirty-fourth time since the end of his lunch break, Ryoma cursed his slant, blue-eyed boyfriend for being such a manipulative bastard. Those hints that were being dropped had triggered rather strange effects on the normally impervious boy wonder.
The entirety of his daily hour of napping (otherwise known as "English class" by his fellow classmates) had been usurped by weird thoughts of yarn, needles, and Karupin; His attention during his shift in the library had been ambushed by random mental images of glue, photos, and glitter; His remaining class periods were literally plagued with imagined pans, mixers, and warm, fluffy, _baked_ confections.
"I'll like it as long as it's from you. Especially if you made it yourself."
Insert husky voice, a tantalizing nuzzle, and a strategically placed grope.
That was really all it took.
Dimly Ryoma heard himself continue to appeal to the one person he believed could use an oven without endangering the three meter radius area around said appliance.
Eiji, on the other hand, opted to stare at his sullen kouhai whose thoughts were obviously on autopilot before leaning down so he could gaze up at the youngest Regular's expression. He grinned at what he saw.
Now, let it be known that Ryoma did not blush. In fact, he was incapable of turning any shade darker than his normal skin tone, much to the disappointment of certain notebook-toting seniors and spiky-haired, loudmouthed juniors. So referring to his skin color for any hint of embarrassment, anger, or other heightened emotion was useless.
His facial expressions on the other hand...
Eiji chortled internally. Having sharp eyes and adaptive reflexes came in handy off the tennis courts too. God knows how many times Inui had tried to persuade him to help him "make research observations that would benefit the team" during their second year in junior high. The acrobatics-specialist ran through his mental list of 'Echizen Ryoma expressions.'
Head tilt down, huddled posture-faux humility and evasiveness.
Eyes slanted to the right-mild to extreme discomfort.
Bottom lip tilted up in 'sulk' mode-disgust or annoyance in present situation.
Blue eyes glinting in mischief, the redhead beamed as he deciphered boy wonder's body language. "Nyaaaaa~.... Occhibi," he drawled excitedly, cutting in unceremoniously into the other's uncharacteristic ramble, "does this have anything to do with Fuji?"
Ryoma choked. "H-how?"
Eiji grinned cheekily, mentally flashing himself a triumphant victory sign. "Occhibi is just too cute!" he gushed, bouncing around the now scowling freshman. "You wanted to bake Fuji a cake for Christmas didn't you?"
".......... if you don't want to teach me how to bake, you could've just said so."
Mind working fast, Eiji suddenly decided to give his best friend an early Christmas gift. Knowing the prodigy for over seven years had given the sprightly youth all the insight he needed to know that Fuji would appreciate his offhand gesture of thanks. He needed to repay his fair-haired friend for helping him corner Oishi on White Day two years ago anyway. Understanding between friends was a wonderful thing when favors were exchanged on a daily basis. "A-ah," he smiled evasively, slyly, "I'm sorry Echizen, but spending the two days before Christmas in Hokkaido with Oishi and Tezuka and Atobe."
Surprise. "You're spending the holidays in the company of the Monkey King?" Then the shorter boy groaned. "Are you sure, senpai?"
Feeling pity wasn't enough to make the willful tennis player to change his mind. "Aaaaw..... don't feel bad Occhibi. You sure you can't just buy Fuji something?"
Ryoma twitched. "No," he answered shortly after another bout of internal debate. "I've been buying him Christmas gifts for the past four years.... I think he was hinting for a change this year. And don't you dare say anything, Kikumaru-senpai," he growled.
Laughing brightly, the third-year pulled the underclassman into an asphyxiating hug. "You're so sweet!"
Sighing resignedly, Ryoma shrugged before turning to leave in search of someone else to appeal to. Damn relationships. Damn holidays. Damn senpais who couldn't cook or refused to teach him how to cook.
Damn Fuji and his mind games.
"Have you asked Fuji if he could teach you yet? He can bake too, you know."
Ryoma almost tripped on his way out of the third-year's classroom. Frankly the thought never crossed his mind before, but for obvious reasons: his boyfriend liked Inui's concoctions; his boyfriend was the devil incarnate; his boyfriend was the person he was trying bake a cake for and asking said person to teach him how to bake would be making the whole effort obsolete.
He tossed the snickering Eiji a baleful look. "Yada."
-----
"Pass me the 2.4M C6H12O6 solution, Echizen."
"The what?"
"The glucose solution."
Wordlessly, the dark-haired boy randomly picked a flask from the colorful assortment of aqueous solutions and nudged it towards his temporary teacher. At least it wasn't gunking up white stuff like when he touched that previous bottle of blue liquid, the freshman thought morbidly as he watched the contents tip into the foaming beaker.
He was now sitting in one of the unoccupied chemistry labs... or rather, unoccupied save for him and one other person.
"Inui-senpai..."
How to explain why he was now seeking out the help of the one person he'd normally avoid seeing near flammables and supposedly edible stuff? Simple. He was desperate. After having a very much-stressed out Kawamura explain to him, in no docile terms, that his father's restaurant needed all the help it could get, and leaving a red-faced Sakuno, a screeching Horio, and a close-to-snapping Katsuo with the Culinary Club's smoking oven, he fled to the science wing. And asking the manic third-year for help still wasn't as bad as asking Fuji himself. Besides, Inui knew how to cater to the tastes of people who apparently had no taste buds.
"Hm?" The response was long in coming and vague at best.
"Are you sure this is the way to bake a cake? Over a Bunsen burner?"
The thick square lenses glinted under the heavy fluorescent lighting. "Cake?" Unpromising silence followed.
Ryoma arched a slender brow at what could only be termed as a sheepish expression on Inui's face before turning that same questioning look at the bubbling liquid suspended over a blue flame. Then he sighed in defeat. ".... what have you been making for the past fifteen minutes, Inui-senpai?" he demanded warily.
Clearing his throat almost apologetically, Inui tipped a few drops of what was labeled as 'Rice Extract' into the opaque mixture. The resulting miniature explosion and fizzing did not help to ease Ryoma's harassed psyche. The tawny-eyed boy flinched as the flask with its now clear contents was held under his nose.
Alcohol??
Sniffing the contents again just to confirm his suspicions. Ryoma stared at the clear liquid for a good ten seconds before shaking his head wryly at the spiky-haired third-year. "Inui-senpai. Cake is solid. Sake is not. Remind me to never send you notes through Kaidoh, in English, again," he muttered before slipping off the high stool and leaving the manic data-collector to his own devices once again.
Resolving to never let evil geniuses plant ideas in his vulnerable non-tennis oriented mind, Ryoma left the lab in search of his last possible savior.
-----
"Fuji-senpai, I need you to teach me... how to bake." Ryoma squashed the instinct to just shrivel up and die at the amused expression times twenty something that had speared him the moment he stepped through the accursed door.
Fuji, to his credit, didn't say anything out of the ordinary aside from a guileless little "Oh?"
His fellow photography club members on the other hand felt no such restriction.
"Is this your boyfriend, Fuji-kun?"
"Yes."
"No way! Fuji-kun's dating? When did this happen??"
"Since junior high, right?"
"Saa..."
"His own teammate?"
"Echizen Ryoma-kun, ne? And you're still so formal... or is that a kinky pet name that you haven't shared with us, ne Fuji-senpai~?"
"Aa, that’s not for me to say."
"Tsk, tsk. You've been holding out on us Fuji! Why didn't you use him as your model for last year's summer theme?"
"He threatened to make me sleep on the couch."
"Aaaaaah?? Details Fuji-kun! Details!!"
"Yes, and you have our sympathy Fuji. My girlfriend's like that too."
Watching the blue-eyed demon in angel's disguise sit calmly while their relationship went public around him, Ryoma suddenly wished it wasn't winter. He wished it wasn't snowing. He wished he hadn't retired his tennis racket for the holidays so he could have served balls at his boyfriend's head for having such noisy friends (especially that last one who compared him to a girl) and for making him do this in the first place.
"What for?" Skillfully ignoring the lascivious turn the conversation had suddenly made, Fuji graced his fuming boyfriend a blindingly innocent smile.
Ryoma almost snarled. "Holiday project," he stated instead, however tersely.
Again the tennis-prodigy gave no indication that he knew anything was out of the ordinary. "Really? For what class?"
"..... Art."
"I see." A beatific smile lit up the tensai's face, one that spoke of pure unadulterated sweetness and artistic creativity to those who didn't know him better.
Ryoma feared for his life.
"When do you need this done?"
"In two days."
The innocent smile suddenly turned into a smirk. "Will you promise me to model for our next club theme if I agree to help?"
Ryoma stared at the smiling façade helplessly. What other option was he left with?
"... fine."
Fuji smiled as the younger boy capitulated, an expression that sincerely wanted to believe in the satisfied glee his darker side was experiencing. "Come by my house the day before it's due then, Echizen-kun," he purred, before leaving the younger boy wondering why the hell he felt as if he'd just sold his soul, fate, and future to the devil.
-----
The evening before Christmas saw a darkly petulant Ryoma at the snow dusted gates of the Fuji household.
"Madamada-kun! What a surprise!"
"Not really," 'Madamada-kun' muttered sourly. He stepped across the threshold and automatically locked gazes with the person who was responsible for cultivating and ultimately dumping him in this situation.
"Syuusuke! Your boy-toy's here!" The eldest Fuji sibling called, not bothering with the affronted look on said 'boy-toy.'
Fuji's trademark chuckle drifted pleasantly over the holiday remixes that wafted in the background. "Don't make fun of him neesan," came the admonishing reply.
"Yes, yes, I know. Syuu-chan is just so cute when he's protective of his possessions, don't you agree Madamada-kun?"
Ryoma gritted his teeth and he ignored the teasing grin on Fuji Yumiko's painted lips and marched resolutely into the kitchen. It took all his resolution to not bolt out the door as he was greeted with the sight of Fuji in a white apron, holding a lavender apron out to him.
"Please put this on, Ryoma."
Gingerly, he stepped forward and took the purple monstrosity.
"Fuji..." he began cautiously.
"Yes?"
"Why does it say 'Smut Me' on this apron?”
Fuji laughed softly. "Don't like it? Can't blame you." Blue eyes opened to glint dangerously for a moment. "Somehow Mizuki managed to give it Yuuta without me knowing." The irked look was then erased although the promise of retribution still hung heavily in the air. "Now, why don't we begin? I've bought all possible ingredients so there's no reason to leave before we're finished."
Stony silence. Ryoma tied on the lavender apron grudgingly and glanced warily at the assortment of additives on the counter. Eggs, flour, sugar, starch, apples (he couldn't help but twitch), baking soda, rows of spice jars, wasabi-
Wasabi???
"This isn't what they put in normal cakes, Fuji?"
"Really?"
Fuji, noting the horrified expression on the younger boy's face picked up the small tube of green paste lovingly and gestured to a few other ingredients that seemed out of place.
"Wasabi is for bold taste, honey for texture, mustard for bite, and you can stop looking at me like that now."
"Uh huh..."
"No more questions then?" Fuji pushed a bowl towards Ryoma while sliding one towards himself. "Let's start, shall we?"
-----
The following four hours were, interesting, to say the least...
"You crack the egg Ryoma. Crack it. Crack... or smash it. Right, so while you're picking out those egg shell pieces, I'll mix your dry ingredients for you, okay?"
"Uh... I think there's something wrong with this egg, Fuji."
"What?"
"There’s a white spot in the yolk."
"Oh that. That's just the undeveloped chick; nothing to be worried about. Hm? You're looking kind of pale. Would you like to work the dry ingredients instead?"
"A-aa..."
Moment of silence.
"Now, now Ryoma. Don't get too frustrated with the spices."
"I'm _not_. Stupid thing must be broken or something, since nothing’s coming out...!"
"You were saying?"
"... your nutmeg shaker is faulty."
"Fu fu. That's okay. We'll just be adding more wasabi in the end to balance out the flavor anyway."
Moment of silence.
"You can put the egg beater down now."
Moment of silence.
"We don't need a cheese grater. Yet. So you can put that down too."
Moment of silence.
"Right, now before you start mixing, I want you to stir in one direction only."
"....... I see."
"Saa~, not quite like that. You're flicking your wrist too much. Keep your strokes steady. Like as if you were hitting a rally in tennis. Or..."
"Don't finish that thought Fuji. Not while we're cooking."
"What thought?"
"... you're dirty, _senpai_."
Low laughter.
"Hokuto-chan would love to learn that she was right on the kinky name calling."
Irate muttering.
"Are you supposed to be standing so close?"
"Am I? Your form was wrong, that's all. I'm just helping you correct it."
"When does cooking have a form?! And stop touching me there!!"
"Feh, how little you know of the culinary arts Ryoma."
".... FUJI!"
"Hmm?"
"Remove. Your. Hand."
"Ah? Oh, you snapped your ladle. But that's okay, you can always buy me another one later."
"Like hell."
"But now the batter is ready for baking. Please pour your bowl's contents into the pan like so... very nicely done Ryoma! We'll let them bake until the top layer turns brown and the inside solidifies."
"Hn."
"Then we can ice it with my homemade horse radish icing."
"... whatever."
"That wasn't too painful now was it?" Fuji pulled the junior tennis champion closer and pressed a chaste kiss on the other's neck. "And all the better that you came to me since I know exactly what type of cake I like best."
Ryoma paused as Fuji's words sunk in and ended up glaring out of the corner of his eye at the fair-haired boy from where he was trapped. "You knew," he accused halfheartedly, too tired from the ordeals of baking to really do anything else. Besides, Fuji's arms were just too comfortable to move from... almost as comfortable as his lap.....
"Sit," the sixteen-year-old ordered imperiously, albeit wearily, and promptly took over the Fuji's lap the moment the other complied.
"You're not going to ask how I knew?" Fuji asked curiously after another moment of silence.
"No need. Knew you were somehow playing mind games again. Kikumaru-senpai and Inui-senpai were acting weird, more so than usual, Kaidoh-senpai looked scared (as if someone had threatened him), and the exploding oven kind of told me that someone was tampering. My art class excuse was pathetic anyway."
Warm chuckle. "You've gotten sharper, huh?"
Ryoma attempted to shrug and remained quiet. He was vaguely aware of Fuji reaching up towards where he supposed the oven was but could care less. Really, Fuji's lap was too comfortable...
The sweetly sharp aroma of wasabi combined with honey drifted to his nose as a slice of freshly baked cake was held in front of his face.
"Happy Birthday, Ryoma."
He tilted his head forward to and tentatively nibbled at the warm crust before deciding that the vicious bite of the wasabi mixed with the rich mellow taste of imported honey wasn't really too bad and took a larger bite.
They stayed there, Fuji sitting on the tiled floor with his back pressed against the warmth of the oven and Ryoma curled up in his lap.
Finally, as the last bite was offered and taken, Ryoma turned so he was laying on his back instead of on his side. Reaching up he pulled down the tennis prodigy by his shoulders with both hands and smirked. He kissed his boyfriend then, pressing his lips firmly against a smiling mouth and licked the other's bottom lip slowly, sensuously.
"Merry Christmas, Syuusuke."
-----
Fin
Completed: 12/24/04
Line I was supposed to use was: "Fuji-senpai, I need you to teach me... how to bake." and it was so. damn. hard. to somehow work out the series of events that would lead to Ryoma ditching common sense and actually asking that fateful question.
Point: I don't know if wasabi and honey taste good together. Been reading too much Yakitate!! Japan to know the difference. Frankly, I wouldn't try it myself, but what the hey, it's not like anybody's actually going to attempt to make some cake with horse radish and honey, right?
Lastly, I was debating on whether or not Ryoma should use the international "Happy Christmas" or American "Merry Christmas," but ultimately decided that since "Happy Christmas" makes me cringe, and he grew up in the States anyway, that he could use "merry" instead.
Happy Holidays people~ (and I hope you like this wakkawoo, despite all its mistakes and etc.)
Homemade
by kasugai gummie
-----
Approaching his senpai with a request to play tennis was one thing.
Asking him this on the other hand... was an entirely different matter.
"Eeeeeeeh? Occhibi wants to learn how to bake?? You want me to _teach_ you?!"
Ryoma nodded once, sharply, keeping his gaze affixed firmly on his sneakers and the tiled floor beneath. "Because Kikumaru-senpai is the only one on the team whose taste buds are remotely intact and won't blow up the microwave unlike Momo-senpai who lied when he told me he could make apple turnovers-" He wished he was wearing his cap so he could tug the brim over his eyes, but settled for keeping his head lowered into his uniform's collar as his mouth continued to run off without him.
"-and kaasan is too busy to teach me anyway. My cousin decided to spend the holidays with her boyfriend. But the guy's not too bad, if you discount him stealing away my cousin when I need her the most since I haven't really tried anything in the kitchen except for boiling water-"
This was beyond humiliating.
For what could have easily been the thirty-fourth time since the end of his lunch break, Ryoma cursed his slant, blue-eyed boyfriend for being such a manipulative bastard. Those hints that were being dropped had triggered rather strange effects on the normally impervious boy wonder.
The entirety of his daily hour of napping (otherwise known as "English class" by his fellow classmates) had been usurped by weird thoughts of yarn, needles, and Karupin; His attention during his shift in the library had been ambushed by random mental images of glue, photos, and glitter; His remaining class periods were literally plagued with imagined pans, mixers, and warm, fluffy, _baked_ confections.
"I'll like it as long as it's from you. Especially if you made it yourself."
Insert husky voice, a tantalizing nuzzle, and a strategically placed grope.
That was really all it took.
Dimly Ryoma heard himself continue to appeal to the one person he believed could use an oven without endangering the three meter radius area around said appliance.
Eiji, on the other hand, opted to stare at his sullen kouhai whose thoughts were obviously on autopilot before leaning down so he could gaze up at the youngest Regular's expression. He grinned at what he saw.
Now, let it be known that Ryoma did not blush. In fact, he was incapable of turning any shade darker than his normal skin tone, much to the disappointment of certain notebook-toting seniors and spiky-haired, loudmouthed juniors. So referring to his skin color for any hint of embarrassment, anger, or other heightened emotion was useless.
His facial expressions on the other hand...
Eiji chortled internally. Having sharp eyes and adaptive reflexes came in handy off the tennis courts too. God knows how many times Inui had tried to persuade him to help him "make research observations that would benefit the team" during their second year in junior high. The acrobatics-specialist ran through his mental list of 'Echizen Ryoma expressions.'
Head tilt down, huddled posture-faux humility and evasiveness.
Eyes slanted to the right-mild to extreme discomfort.
Bottom lip tilted up in 'sulk' mode-disgust or annoyance in present situation.
Blue eyes glinting in mischief, the redhead beamed as he deciphered boy wonder's body language. "Nyaaaaa~.... Occhibi," he drawled excitedly, cutting in unceremoniously into the other's uncharacteristic ramble, "does this have anything to do with Fuji?"
Ryoma choked. "H-how?"
Eiji grinned cheekily, mentally flashing himself a triumphant victory sign. "Occhibi is just too cute!" he gushed, bouncing around the now scowling freshman. "You wanted to bake Fuji a cake for Christmas didn't you?"
".......... if you don't want to teach me how to bake, you could've just said so."
Mind working fast, Eiji suddenly decided to give his best friend an early Christmas gift. Knowing the prodigy for over seven years had given the sprightly youth all the insight he needed to know that Fuji would appreciate his offhand gesture of thanks. He needed to repay his fair-haired friend for helping him corner Oishi on White Day two years ago anyway. Understanding between friends was a wonderful thing when favors were exchanged on a daily basis. "A-ah," he smiled evasively, slyly, "I'm sorry Echizen, but spending the two days before Christmas in Hokkaido with Oishi and Tezuka and Atobe."
Surprise. "You're spending the holidays in the company of the Monkey King?" Then the shorter boy groaned. "Are you sure, senpai?"
Feeling pity wasn't enough to make the willful tennis player to change his mind. "Aaaaw..... don't feel bad Occhibi. You sure you can't just buy Fuji something?"
Ryoma twitched. "No," he answered shortly after another bout of internal debate. "I've been buying him Christmas gifts for the past four years.... I think he was hinting for a change this year. And don't you dare say anything, Kikumaru-senpai," he growled.
Laughing brightly, the third-year pulled the underclassman into an asphyxiating hug. "You're so sweet!"
Sighing resignedly, Ryoma shrugged before turning to leave in search of someone else to appeal to. Damn relationships. Damn holidays. Damn senpais who couldn't cook or refused to teach him how to cook.
Damn Fuji and his mind games.
"Have you asked Fuji if he could teach you yet? He can bake too, you know."
Ryoma almost tripped on his way out of the third-year's classroom. Frankly the thought never crossed his mind before, but for obvious reasons: his boyfriend liked Inui's concoctions; his boyfriend was the devil incarnate; his boyfriend was the person he was trying bake a cake for and asking said person to teach him how to bake would be making the whole effort obsolete.
He tossed the snickering Eiji a baleful look. "Yada."
-----
"Pass me the 2.4M C6H12O6 solution, Echizen."
"The what?"
"The glucose solution."
Wordlessly, the dark-haired boy randomly picked a flask from the colorful assortment of aqueous solutions and nudged it towards his temporary teacher. At least it wasn't gunking up white stuff like when he touched that previous bottle of blue liquid, the freshman thought morbidly as he watched the contents tip into the foaming beaker.
He was now sitting in one of the unoccupied chemistry labs... or rather, unoccupied save for him and one other person.
"Inui-senpai..."
How to explain why he was now seeking out the help of the one person he'd normally avoid seeing near flammables and supposedly edible stuff? Simple. He was desperate. After having a very much-stressed out Kawamura explain to him, in no docile terms, that his father's restaurant needed all the help it could get, and leaving a red-faced Sakuno, a screeching Horio, and a close-to-snapping Katsuo with the Culinary Club's smoking oven, he fled to the science wing. And asking the manic third-year for help still wasn't as bad as asking Fuji himself. Besides, Inui knew how to cater to the tastes of people who apparently had no taste buds.
"Hm?" The response was long in coming and vague at best.
"Are you sure this is the way to bake a cake? Over a Bunsen burner?"
The thick square lenses glinted under the heavy fluorescent lighting. "Cake?" Unpromising silence followed.
Ryoma arched a slender brow at what could only be termed as a sheepish expression on Inui's face before turning that same questioning look at the bubbling liquid suspended over a blue flame. Then he sighed in defeat. ".... what have you been making for the past fifteen minutes, Inui-senpai?" he demanded warily.
Clearing his throat almost apologetically, Inui tipped a few drops of what was labeled as 'Rice Extract' into the opaque mixture. The resulting miniature explosion and fizzing did not help to ease Ryoma's harassed psyche. The tawny-eyed boy flinched as the flask with its now clear contents was held under his nose.
Alcohol??
Sniffing the contents again just to confirm his suspicions. Ryoma stared at the clear liquid for a good ten seconds before shaking his head wryly at the spiky-haired third-year. "Inui-senpai. Cake is solid. Sake is not. Remind me to never send you notes through Kaidoh, in English, again," he muttered before slipping off the high stool and leaving the manic data-collector to his own devices once again.
Resolving to never let evil geniuses plant ideas in his vulnerable non-tennis oriented mind, Ryoma left the lab in search of his last possible savior.
-----
"Fuji-senpai, I need you to teach me... how to bake." Ryoma squashed the instinct to just shrivel up and die at the amused expression times twenty something that had speared him the moment he stepped through the accursed door.
Fuji, to his credit, didn't say anything out of the ordinary aside from a guileless little "Oh?"
His fellow photography club members on the other hand felt no such restriction.
"Is this your boyfriend, Fuji-kun?"
"Yes."
"No way! Fuji-kun's dating? When did this happen??"
"Since junior high, right?"
"Saa..."
"His own teammate?"
"Echizen Ryoma-kun, ne? And you're still so formal... or is that a kinky pet name that you haven't shared with us, ne Fuji-senpai~?"
"Aa, that’s not for me to say."
"Tsk, tsk. You've been holding out on us Fuji! Why didn't you use him as your model for last year's summer theme?"
"He threatened to make me sleep on the couch."
"Aaaaaah?? Details Fuji-kun! Details!!"
"Yes, and you have our sympathy Fuji. My girlfriend's like that too."
Watching the blue-eyed demon in angel's disguise sit calmly while their relationship went public around him, Ryoma suddenly wished it wasn't winter. He wished it wasn't snowing. He wished he hadn't retired his tennis racket for the holidays so he could have served balls at his boyfriend's head for having such noisy friends (especially that last one who compared him to a girl) and for making him do this in the first place.
"What for?" Skillfully ignoring the lascivious turn the conversation had suddenly made, Fuji graced his fuming boyfriend a blindingly innocent smile.
Ryoma almost snarled. "Holiday project," he stated instead, however tersely.
Again the tennis-prodigy gave no indication that he knew anything was out of the ordinary. "Really? For what class?"
"..... Art."
"I see." A beatific smile lit up the tensai's face, one that spoke of pure unadulterated sweetness and artistic creativity to those who didn't know him better.
Ryoma feared for his life.
"When do you need this done?"
"In two days."
The innocent smile suddenly turned into a smirk. "Will you promise me to model for our next club theme if I agree to help?"
Ryoma stared at the smiling façade helplessly. What other option was he left with?
"... fine."
Fuji smiled as the younger boy capitulated, an expression that sincerely wanted to believe in the satisfied glee his darker side was experiencing. "Come by my house the day before it's due then, Echizen-kun," he purred, before leaving the younger boy wondering why the hell he felt as if he'd just sold his soul, fate, and future to the devil.
-----
The evening before Christmas saw a darkly petulant Ryoma at the snow dusted gates of the Fuji household.
"Madamada-kun! What a surprise!"
"Not really," 'Madamada-kun' muttered sourly. He stepped across the threshold and automatically locked gazes with the person who was responsible for cultivating and ultimately dumping him in this situation.
"Syuusuke! Your boy-toy's here!" The eldest Fuji sibling called, not bothering with the affronted look on said 'boy-toy.'
Fuji's trademark chuckle drifted pleasantly over the holiday remixes that wafted in the background. "Don't make fun of him neesan," came the admonishing reply.
"Yes, yes, I know. Syuu-chan is just so cute when he's protective of his possessions, don't you agree Madamada-kun?"
Ryoma gritted his teeth and he ignored the teasing grin on Fuji Yumiko's painted lips and marched resolutely into the kitchen. It took all his resolution to not bolt out the door as he was greeted with the sight of Fuji in a white apron, holding a lavender apron out to him.
"Please put this on, Ryoma."
Gingerly, he stepped forward and took the purple monstrosity.
"Fuji..." he began cautiously.
"Yes?"
"Why does it say 'Smut Me' on this apron?”
Fuji laughed softly. "Don't like it? Can't blame you." Blue eyes opened to glint dangerously for a moment. "Somehow Mizuki managed to give it Yuuta without me knowing." The irked look was then erased although the promise of retribution still hung heavily in the air. "Now, why don't we begin? I've bought all possible ingredients so there's no reason to leave before we're finished."
Stony silence. Ryoma tied on the lavender apron grudgingly and glanced warily at the assortment of additives on the counter. Eggs, flour, sugar, starch, apples (he couldn't help but twitch), baking soda, rows of spice jars, wasabi-
Wasabi???
"This isn't what they put in normal cakes, Fuji?"
"Really?"
Fuji, noting the horrified expression on the younger boy's face picked up the small tube of green paste lovingly and gestured to a few other ingredients that seemed out of place.
"Wasabi is for bold taste, honey for texture, mustard for bite, and you can stop looking at me like that now."
"Uh huh..."
"No more questions then?" Fuji pushed a bowl towards Ryoma while sliding one towards himself. "Let's start, shall we?"
-----
The following four hours were, interesting, to say the least...
"You crack the egg Ryoma. Crack it. Crack... or smash it. Right, so while you're picking out those egg shell pieces, I'll mix your dry ingredients for you, okay?"
"Uh... I think there's something wrong with this egg, Fuji."
"What?"
"There’s a white spot in the yolk."
"Oh that. That's just the undeveloped chick; nothing to be worried about. Hm? You're looking kind of pale. Would you like to work the dry ingredients instead?"
"A-aa..."
Moment of silence.
"Now, now Ryoma. Don't get too frustrated with the spices."
"I'm _not_. Stupid thing must be broken or something, since nothing’s coming out...!"
"You were saying?"
"... your nutmeg shaker is faulty."
"Fu fu. That's okay. We'll just be adding more wasabi in the end to balance out the flavor anyway."
Moment of silence.
"You can put the egg beater down now."
Moment of silence.
"We don't need a cheese grater. Yet. So you can put that down too."
Moment of silence.
"Right, now before you start mixing, I want you to stir in one direction only."
"....... I see."
"Saa~, not quite like that. You're flicking your wrist too much. Keep your strokes steady. Like as if you were hitting a rally in tennis. Or..."
"Don't finish that thought Fuji. Not while we're cooking."
"What thought?"
"... you're dirty, _senpai_."
Low laughter.
"Hokuto-chan would love to learn that she was right on the kinky name calling."
Irate muttering.
"Are you supposed to be standing so close?"
"Am I? Your form was wrong, that's all. I'm just helping you correct it."
"When does cooking have a form?! And stop touching me there!!"
"Feh, how little you know of the culinary arts Ryoma."
".... FUJI!"
"Hmm?"
"Remove. Your. Hand."
"Ah? Oh, you snapped your ladle. But that's okay, you can always buy me another one later."
"Like hell."
"But now the batter is ready for baking. Please pour your bowl's contents into the pan like so... very nicely done Ryoma! We'll let them bake until the top layer turns brown and the inside solidifies."
"Hn."
"Then we can ice it with my homemade horse radish icing."
"... whatever."
"That wasn't too painful now was it?" Fuji pulled the junior tennis champion closer and pressed a chaste kiss on the other's neck. "And all the better that you came to me since I know exactly what type of cake I like best."
Ryoma paused as Fuji's words sunk in and ended up glaring out of the corner of his eye at the fair-haired boy from where he was trapped. "You knew," he accused halfheartedly, too tired from the ordeals of baking to really do anything else. Besides, Fuji's arms were just too comfortable to move from... almost as comfortable as his lap.....
"Sit," the sixteen-year-old ordered imperiously, albeit wearily, and promptly took over the Fuji's lap the moment the other complied.
"You're not going to ask how I knew?" Fuji asked curiously after another moment of silence.
"No need. Knew you were somehow playing mind games again. Kikumaru-senpai and Inui-senpai were acting weird, more so than usual, Kaidoh-senpai looked scared (as if someone had threatened him), and the exploding oven kind of told me that someone was tampering. My art class excuse was pathetic anyway."
Warm chuckle. "You've gotten sharper, huh?"
Ryoma attempted to shrug and remained quiet. He was vaguely aware of Fuji reaching up towards where he supposed the oven was but could care less. Really, Fuji's lap was too comfortable...
The sweetly sharp aroma of wasabi combined with honey drifted to his nose as a slice of freshly baked cake was held in front of his face.
"Happy Birthday, Ryoma."
He tilted his head forward to and tentatively nibbled at the warm crust before deciding that the vicious bite of the wasabi mixed with the rich mellow taste of imported honey wasn't really too bad and took a larger bite.
They stayed there, Fuji sitting on the tiled floor with his back pressed against the warmth of the oven and Ryoma curled up in his lap.
Finally, as the last bite was offered and taken, Ryoma turned so he was laying on his back instead of on his side. Reaching up he pulled down the tennis prodigy by his shoulders with both hands and smirked. He kissed his boyfriend then, pressing his lips firmly against a smiling mouth and licked the other's bottom lip slowly, sensuously.
"Merry Christmas, Syuusuke."
-----
Fin
Completed: 12/24/04