Kite/Tezuka ~ ficlet
Title: Birthdays with Chocotoast
Rating: T for Tame
Pairing: Durr.
Summary: Tezuka's a grump. Kite likes him anyway.
a/n ~ nothing to write home about, just me tapping a vein.
Tezuka’s birthday dawned bright and clear, only a few months into the relationship they’d managed to forge, but it wasn’t a big deal. It was a just another day, wasn’t it? It was nothing to get worked up about.
Or so Tezuka had been insisting for days.
That Kite had possessed the audacity to snoop around behind someone’s back in order to obtain personal information - Tezuka’s words, not Kite’s - was not only deplorable, it was apparently typical of him, as well. Faced with Tezuka’s formidable irritation, Kite could do no more than shrug his shoulders and smile. It wasn’t as though he could deny it and he had no interest in making excuses for himself. The way he saw it, if Tezuka didn’t want to pony up the info like a normal person, Kite had no reservations in getting the information any way he could. He wasn’t sorry and he didn’t pretend to be. Tezuka would get over it - he always did.
Late that evening, having had his previous four requests for Tezuka’s company promptly denied, Kite stood before the window in his kitchen - leaning against the frame and tapping his chin with the side of his mobile - and watched the streetlights change. Last ditch, and if Tezuka shut him down this time, he’d simply go out and get him.
The phone rang three times - Kite was certain that Tezuka was counting - before he answered.
“Aa.”
“It’s me,” he said, simply.
There was a brief pause and Tezuka made some clipped sound of irritation. Kite frowned; Tezuka had been hanging around that cocky little ball-bouncing bastard again. In fact - now that Kite paused to really consider it - Tezuka had probably been looking for an excuse to avoid spending time with Kite all day long in favor of canoodling with Echizen.
He clenched his jaw. “Tezuka.”
“I have caller ID, Eishirou.”
“Why won’t you see me?” he asked, voice low. While it had been his intention to be cool and in control, he hadn’t considered Tezuka’s ability to rouse his jealousy before he’d even said a word. “It’s your birthday - why would you spend it with anyone other than me?”
Mumbling under his breath - or, at least, it sounded that way to Kite - Tezuka sighed and spoke closely against the phone. “Exactly, Eishirou. It’s my birthday, not yours. Why does it matter to you?”
Stung, Kite was silent for a moment and - as was typical of him - his hurt was quick to become anger. Taking firm hold of his composure and pretending that he couldn’t hear the breeze, the chatter, the sounds that told him Tezuka was out and about and not at home missing Kite the way Kite was missing him, he responded in as neutral a manner as he could manage.
“I haven’t seen you in three days, Tezuka,” he said, tone smooth and unruffled. “I want you.”
“You want me.” It was not a question.
“Yes,” he said. “I want you with me. Under me. Over me.” Lowering his voice just enough that Tezuka would have to strain to hear it, he continued. “Come to me.”
Anticipating one of two possible reactions - a well-placed barb to hit Kite where it would hurt the most, or that Tezuka would simply hang up, thereby initiating a frosty, week long silence that would only end with a heartfelt apology from Kite - he was shocked when Tezuka murmured, “I’m on my way,” and snapped his phone shut.
Kite turned, tossing his phone atop one of the cushions near the window and tucked his shirt snugly into the waistband of his slacks. Showing no interest in a celebration of any kind, Tezuka had made it clear that he did not want to go to the opera, or to dinner, or otherwise take part in any other pretentious, ostentatious activity for no good reason at all.
Kite simply reasoned that Tezuka did not want to relive old memories of old relationships and so had wisely left the subject alone. Despite his desire to please Tezuka - to make him feel special - he’d learned early on not to push when Tezuka was this determined. Kite wasn’t big on taking risks, when it came right down to it.
Feeling that he looked as presentable as he was going to manage, he made tea while he waited for Tezuka to arrive. Kite hated waiting and had never quite mastered it. If he didn’t do something constructive while he was waiting, he would simply pace. And pacing made him anxious.
It wasn’t until he’d set the tea aside to steep that Tezuka knocked sharply. Kite startled, not having expected so short a wait, and turned to kneel at the table as he fished through his pocket for the lighter he’d picked up for the occasion.
He stood, backing away to observe his handiwork, and smoothed his shirt down in front again before opening the door.
On the doorstep, Tezuka stood - silent and imposing in his self-righteous dissatisfaction - and, for a moment, Kite could find no words with which to greet him.
Dressed in navy blue and black - collar open to bare his throat and pants so deliciously fitted that Kite reconsidered his position regarding their expedient removal - he met Kite’s eyes, unflinching.
“Well?” he asked, still so reserved despite his obvious displeasure.
“That was quick, Tezuka. How did you manage to get here so quickly?”
Tezuka scowled. “Ass. I was already on my way over.”
Surprise evident, Kite arched a brow. “You were? But you said…”
Glancing away, exasperation and irritation clear in the way he held himself, Tezuka shook his head. “You are truly one of the most id-”
Tezuka mid-rant was, without a doubt, one of the most enticing, exciting displays Kite had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. This was likely due to the fact that it gave him an excuse to silence Tezuka with a kiss or ten.
He took Tezuka’s hand, twining their fingers as Tezuka’s rant trailed off, unfinished. Raising Tezuka’s hand to his lips, he turned his wrist to press a kiss to the center of his palm.
“Verbally eviscerate me later. Come inside.”
Still frowning, but allowing himself to be led, Tezuka followed Kite inside. The apartment was nearly dark, lit only by the moon through the window and the single candle on the table.
Glancing at Kite - finally noticing his outfit and the unexpected atmosphere - Tezuka spoke up quietly. “What is this?”
Twining their fingers again, Kite tugged him closer, recognizing his sudden uncertainty for having lost a bit of his edge. “What do you think it is?”
When Tezuka didn’t answer, releasing Kite’s hand to move toward the table, Kite let him go. Tucking both hands into his pockets, he watched Tezuka draw nearer to the table, pausing only when he was able to identify the thin, brightly wrapped gift and the cupcake with the single candle pressed just into it.
He turned, glancing at Kite over his shoulder. “Eishirou?”
Kite shrugged, somehow managing to appear bashful when he’d never experienced a bashful moment in his life, and smiled a little. “It’s your birthday.”
In profile, with the candlelight flickering, Tezuka met Kite’s eyes and something in his expression - something in his eyes - settled heavily into Kite’s chest and he ached.
Extending one hand, Tezuka motioned him closer and Kite went, reaching to slide his fingertips against Tezuka’s - palm to palm - until their fingers twined again.
“I-I wasn’t expecting this,” Tezuka admitted, voice small.
At his side now, Kite leaned forward to rest his forehead against Tezuka’s temple. After a moment, he murmured, “Well. I knew you wouldn’t let me take you out dancing.”
Shoulders lifting in silent amusement, Tezuka slipped one arm around Kite’s waist to touch the soft fabric of his shirt. It occurred to him that he’d never seen Kite dressed this way before. “Idiot. You don’t dance.”
Kite snorted. “You don’t think so?”
Leaning back a bit, Tezuka eyed him suspiciously. “You do?”
Kite smirked, lifting Tezuka’s hand to rest at his shoulder when he pulled him close again. “I’ll teach you, someday.”
Frowning, declining to respond to so ridiculous an assertion, Tezuka turned his attention back to the table. Kite nuzzled his ear, his jaw. “Better blow out your candle or else we’re gonna be eating wax.”
Turning his head to nuzzle the corner of Kite’s mouth, Tezuka touched the back of his neck. “Eishirou,” he began, not at all certain as to what he intended to say. He found that, despite the simplicity of Kite’s gesture, he had no words to offer.
Closing his eyes, Kite kissed him softly, feather-light and completely without expectation. “Shh. Kunimitsu.”
Fingers curling against Kite’s shirt and at the back of his neck, Tezuka did not move away. Eyes closed, now, he hummed his pleasure against Kite’s mouth and coaxed his lips apart, careful and searching.
For long moments, Tezuka held Kite to him, simply allowing himself to derive enjoyment from another person’s proximity. He knew, though, that it wasn’t just any person’s closeness he wanted. He wanted Kite.
“Eishirou,” he breathed, sucking at his lower lip and nudging Kite’s cheek with his nose. “Who told you? About my birthday?”
That Echizen had volunteered such confidential information did not mean that Kite was not honor-bound to maintain absolute secrecy. Plus, the little bastard had threatened him if he ran his yap - Echizen’s words, not Kite’s.
“That’s a secret,” he whispered regretfully.
Tezuka frowned. “And the gift?”
Kite laughed, kneeling at the table and tugging Tezuka along. “That’s not a secret.”
Leaning in, Tezuka blew out his candle and - after he’d extinguished the small flame - he cleared his throat. “Ah, Eishirou?”
“Hm?”
Hesitating for a moment, Tezuka cleared his throat and shifted beside Kite.
“I can’t see.”
thanks to setra for the prompt. :D
Rating: T for Tame
Pairing: Durr.
Summary: Tezuka's a grump. Kite likes him anyway.
a/n ~ nothing to write home about, just me tapping a vein.
Tezuka’s birthday dawned bright and clear, only a few months into the relationship they’d managed to forge, but it wasn’t a big deal. It was a just another day, wasn’t it? It was nothing to get worked up about.
Or so Tezuka had been insisting for days.
That Kite had possessed the audacity to snoop around behind someone’s back in order to obtain personal information - Tezuka’s words, not Kite’s - was not only deplorable, it was apparently typical of him, as well. Faced with Tezuka’s formidable irritation, Kite could do no more than shrug his shoulders and smile. It wasn’t as though he could deny it and he had no interest in making excuses for himself. The way he saw it, if Tezuka didn’t want to pony up the info like a normal person, Kite had no reservations in getting the information any way he could. He wasn’t sorry and he didn’t pretend to be. Tezuka would get over it - he always did.
Late that evening, having had his previous four requests for Tezuka’s company promptly denied, Kite stood before the window in his kitchen - leaning against the frame and tapping his chin with the side of his mobile - and watched the streetlights change. Last ditch, and if Tezuka shut him down this time, he’d simply go out and get him.
The phone rang three times - Kite was certain that Tezuka was counting - before he answered.
“Aa.”
“It’s me,” he said, simply.
There was a brief pause and Tezuka made some clipped sound of irritation. Kite frowned; Tezuka had been hanging around that cocky little ball-bouncing bastard again. In fact - now that Kite paused to really consider it - Tezuka had probably been looking for an excuse to avoid spending time with Kite all day long in favor of canoodling with Echizen.
He clenched his jaw. “Tezuka.”
“I have caller ID, Eishirou.”
“Why won’t you see me?” he asked, voice low. While it had been his intention to be cool and in control, he hadn’t considered Tezuka’s ability to rouse his jealousy before he’d even said a word. “It’s your birthday - why would you spend it with anyone other than me?”
Mumbling under his breath - or, at least, it sounded that way to Kite - Tezuka sighed and spoke closely against the phone. “Exactly, Eishirou. It’s my birthday, not yours. Why does it matter to you?”
Stung, Kite was silent for a moment and - as was typical of him - his hurt was quick to become anger. Taking firm hold of his composure and pretending that he couldn’t hear the breeze, the chatter, the sounds that told him Tezuka was out and about and not at home missing Kite the way Kite was missing him, he responded in as neutral a manner as he could manage.
“I haven’t seen you in three days, Tezuka,” he said, tone smooth and unruffled. “I want you.”
“You want me.” It was not a question.
“Yes,” he said. “I want you with me. Under me. Over me.” Lowering his voice just enough that Tezuka would have to strain to hear it, he continued. “Come to me.”
Anticipating one of two possible reactions - a well-placed barb to hit Kite where it would hurt the most, or that Tezuka would simply hang up, thereby initiating a frosty, week long silence that would only end with a heartfelt apology from Kite - he was shocked when Tezuka murmured, “I’m on my way,” and snapped his phone shut.
Kite turned, tossing his phone atop one of the cushions near the window and tucked his shirt snugly into the waistband of his slacks. Showing no interest in a celebration of any kind, Tezuka had made it clear that he did not want to go to the opera, or to dinner, or otherwise take part in any other pretentious, ostentatious activity for no good reason at all.
Kite simply reasoned that Tezuka did not want to relive old memories of old relationships and so had wisely left the subject alone. Despite his desire to please Tezuka - to make him feel special - he’d learned early on not to push when Tezuka was this determined. Kite wasn’t big on taking risks, when it came right down to it.
Feeling that he looked as presentable as he was going to manage, he made tea while he waited for Tezuka to arrive. Kite hated waiting and had never quite mastered it. If he didn’t do something constructive while he was waiting, he would simply pace. And pacing made him anxious.
It wasn’t until he’d set the tea aside to steep that Tezuka knocked sharply. Kite startled, not having expected so short a wait, and turned to kneel at the table as he fished through his pocket for the lighter he’d picked up for the occasion.
He stood, backing away to observe his handiwork, and smoothed his shirt down in front again before opening the door.
On the doorstep, Tezuka stood - silent and imposing in his self-righteous dissatisfaction - and, for a moment, Kite could find no words with which to greet him.
Dressed in navy blue and black - collar open to bare his throat and pants so deliciously fitted that Kite reconsidered his position regarding their expedient removal - he met Kite’s eyes, unflinching.
“Well?” he asked, still so reserved despite his obvious displeasure.
“That was quick, Tezuka. How did you manage to get here so quickly?”
Tezuka scowled. “Ass. I was already on my way over.”
Surprise evident, Kite arched a brow. “You were? But you said…”
Glancing away, exasperation and irritation clear in the way he held himself, Tezuka shook his head. “You are truly one of the most id-”
Tezuka mid-rant was, without a doubt, one of the most enticing, exciting displays Kite had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. This was likely due to the fact that it gave him an excuse to silence Tezuka with a kiss or ten.
He took Tezuka’s hand, twining their fingers as Tezuka’s rant trailed off, unfinished. Raising Tezuka’s hand to his lips, he turned his wrist to press a kiss to the center of his palm.
“Verbally eviscerate me later. Come inside.”
Still frowning, but allowing himself to be led, Tezuka followed Kite inside. The apartment was nearly dark, lit only by the moon through the window and the single candle on the table.
Glancing at Kite - finally noticing his outfit and the unexpected atmosphere - Tezuka spoke up quietly. “What is this?”
Twining their fingers again, Kite tugged him closer, recognizing his sudden uncertainty for having lost a bit of his edge. “What do you think it is?”
When Tezuka didn’t answer, releasing Kite’s hand to move toward the table, Kite let him go. Tucking both hands into his pockets, he watched Tezuka draw nearer to the table, pausing only when he was able to identify the thin, brightly wrapped gift and the cupcake with the single candle pressed just into it.
He turned, glancing at Kite over his shoulder. “Eishirou?”
Kite shrugged, somehow managing to appear bashful when he’d never experienced a bashful moment in his life, and smiled a little. “It’s your birthday.”
In profile, with the candlelight flickering, Tezuka met Kite’s eyes and something in his expression - something in his eyes - settled heavily into Kite’s chest and he ached.
Extending one hand, Tezuka motioned him closer and Kite went, reaching to slide his fingertips against Tezuka’s - palm to palm - until their fingers twined again.
“I-I wasn’t expecting this,” Tezuka admitted, voice small.
At his side now, Kite leaned forward to rest his forehead against Tezuka’s temple. After a moment, he murmured, “Well. I knew you wouldn’t let me take you out dancing.”
Shoulders lifting in silent amusement, Tezuka slipped one arm around Kite’s waist to touch the soft fabric of his shirt. It occurred to him that he’d never seen Kite dressed this way before. “Idiot. You don’t dance.”
Kite snorted. “You don’t think so?”
Leaning back a bit, Tezuka eyed him suspiciously. “You do?”
Kite smirked, lifting Tezuka’s hand to rest at his shoulder when he pulled him close again. “I’ll teach you, someday.”
Frowning, declining to respond to so ridiculous an assertion, Tezuka turned his attention back to the table. Kite nuzzled his ear, his jaw. “Better blow out your candle or else we’re gonna be eating wax.”
Turning his head to nuzzle the corner of Kite’s mouth, Tezuka touched the back of his neck. “Eishirou,” he began, not at all certain as to what he intended to say. He found that, despite the simplicity of Kite’s gesture, he had no words to offer.
Closing his eyes, Kite kissed him softly, feather-light and completely without expectation. “Shh. Kunimitsu.”
Fingers curling against Kite’s shirt and at the back of his neck, Tezuka did not move away. Eyes closed, now, he hummed his pleasure against Kite’s mouth and coaxed his lips apart, careful and searching.
For long moments, Tezuka held Kite to him, simply allowing himself to derive enjoyment from another person’s proximity. He knew, though, that it wasn’t just any person’s closeness he wanted. He wanted Kite.
“Eishirou,” he breathed, sucking at his lower lip and nudging Kite’s cheek with his nose. “Who told you? About my birthday?”
That Echizen had volunteered such confidential information did not mean that Kite was not honor-bound to maintain absolute secrecy. Plus, the little bastard had threatened him if he ran his yap - Echizen’s words, not Kite’s.
“That’s a secret,” he whispered regretfully.
Tezuka frowned. “And the gift?”
Kite laughed, kneeling at the table and tugging Tezuka along. “That’s not a secret.”
Leaning in, Tezuka blew out his candle and - after he’d extinguished the small flame - he cleared his throat. “Ah, Eishirou?”
“Hm?”
Hesitating for a moment, Tezuka cleared his throat and shifted beside Kite.
“I can’t see.”
thanks to setra for the prompt. :D