Fanfiction: Cardboard Cups - Part II
Fanfiction: Cardboard Cups - Part II
Synopsis: Fuji's a barista at a tiny coffee shop. Tezuka is worker at an architectural firm. By chance or misfortune, luck or some chaotic scheme against them both, they meet.
Genre: Slice of Life/Cafe Story
Rating: PG-13 (maybe higher later)
Word Count: 2578
Warnings: None in this chapter
Dedication: cleverlilwill, my dearest beta and friend, of whom without I would have never started writing ZukaFuji. ♥
Part Two
Je peux voir la lueur
Je peux voir la lueur en toi
- Kwan, Lueur
A few minutes after eight and Fuji was alone behind the register, counting the cash box and breaking rolls of coins into their proper slot. Some customers were just settling into their morning brews and taking their seats in the booths by the window.
Whatever tentative hush that had rolled over the store was broken as a blur of red barreled through the doors.
"Kya! I'm late I'm late I'm laaate!" Eiji vaulted over the counter and dodged around Fuji six times before the latter man could blink. "Did he notice yet? Did he see me? Did I make it on time? Am I late? Am I dead? Did he see me?"
"Eiji - "
"Nyaaah.... he probably hates me. Tell me the truth, Fuji, he hates me!"
"Eiji...."
Panic settling in, Eiji started pacing. "He hates me doesn't he? One of these days he's going to kill me and feed me to Kabaji!"
Kabaji was one of the storage workers who appeared, at random, to deliver goods to the cafe. Eiji had been wary of him ever since he appeared, at random, behind him and followed him around the cafe for the better part of an hour. Oishi had to explain to a frightened Eiji that his hair was very similar in style to the man Kabaji worked for. Being a visual thinker, it was only natural for Kabaji to take a sincere liking to Eiji.
"I didn't know Oishi and Kabaji were that close." He spun Eiji around, who was trying to do up his apron by himself and had only succeeded in nearly tying his fingers in knots. "I thought Kabaji only took orders from his boss."
Eiji visibly paled, thunderstruck and horrified as he slowly turned to Fuji with large eyes, his kitten mouth becoming an 'o'. "........Kabaji eats people?"
"Breathe, Eiji."
"I'm calm.... I'm calm...." He pressed his palms flat against the glass of the counter while murmuring a stream of 'Oishi, don't hate me's under his breath. Fuji chuckled to himself as he looped one string around the other. He had just finished the last bow when Oishi poked his head out of the backroom.
"Eiji?"
"Hoi!" Eiji shot into the air, knocking into the machines. Fuji looked up and caught the flying coffeepot just in time before it shattered against the linoleum.
Oishi frowned for a second but shook his head and ignored the almost accident. "Did you just get in?"
"Y-...yes..." The redhead lowered his head. "My alarm didn't go off...and there was traffic and I thought it was going to rain so I went back for an umbrella and my toothpaste had finished so I needed to buy some -"
"I don't want to hear your excuses." Oishi's kind smile broke through like sunshine. "You said you were going to be late last week. Isn't one of your sisters sleeping over?"
"Eh?" Eiji's face went as red as his hair as he stared at Fuji.
Fuji hummed Eiji's humiliation to the tune of Flight of the Bumblebees while twirling the coffeepot by the handle. "I tried to tell you."
"Fuji, please..." Oishi took the pot away from him and set it delicately on the closed burner. "The last thing we need is another broken pot."
Fair enough, Fuji stopped buzzing long enough for Eiji's color to return to his face. The last pot had broken while Eiji had been trying a balancing act on a broom between two chairs while Fuji fed him dishes. (Fortunately only three dishes, a mug, and a coffeepot were sacrificed in the process. Later, Oishi had chided them in his office but ended with "We needed to get new china anyway." and "This won't be coming out of your paychecks.")
"Mmm?" The redhead leaned across the counter. "Your Eight-Thirty is back." An apt nickname Eiji had adopted due to his favorite employee's impeccable timing.
It had been a week since Eight-Thirty's first entrance into the cafe. And since then, Fuji had learned little about him save the way he liked his coffee brewed, that he worked for an architectural firm a few blocks away, and that despite his clean suits, his hair was a perpetual unruly mess. It suited him just fine.
The day after Eight-Thirty had first come in, he returned with a hesitant frown and stared at the barista for a total of fourteen seconds as if trying to pick out which question to ask first. Fuji, ever patient, had to bite his lip to stop the laughter bubbling in his chest.
Eight-Thirty had fixed his mouth into a line in thought. "Do you do coffee as well?"
"Well, this is a coffee shop. I hope so." It was worth it just to watch the other man try to stifle his blush.
He had tried again, trying to ignore the weight of Fuji's smile by pulling out his wallet and paying for a simple blend. And everyday, without fail, he would sit in the same seat he sat in before and nurse his coffee until five minutes til nine.
Fuji had turned the initial encounter over in his mind. And each time, he had chuckled until Eiji finally slapped his hand on the counter and asked him "What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing."
"It doesn't sound like nothing." Eiji had muttered under his breath, but let the topic go as another customer begged for his attention.
Today, Eight-Thirty made his way over to the counter just as Eiji managed to grab his morning pastry.
"Back again?" Fuji asked as if he didn't come at the same time every day.
The man nodded shortly, pulling out his change again. "You're the only one who does it how I like it."
Maybe it was Fuji's not-so-subtle, but still tiny smile. Maybe it was the man turning the words over in his head. Either way, Eight-Thirty turned an attractive shade of crimson that only complimented his gray suit.
Fuji turned to hide his blossoming grin, effectively facing him toward the coffee machines. The order wasn't particularly hard. Tall black coffee, no milk, with only a sprinkle of sugar and a dollop of whipped cream. A simple coffee in a cardboard cup. Fuji exchanged the coffee for dollar bills and watched him walk to his seat by the window.
"You're the only one that does it how I like it." Eiji echoed in his best impression of Eight-Thirty's deep voice and none-too-softly, though Fuji had to give him some credit for trying to whisper. He never was good at it. "Eh? That sounds dangerous, dangerous."
Fuji shook his head and began washing the empty coffeepot. "You're funny, Eiji."
Eiji leaned across the counter again before glancing back at his best friend, who now had a tell-tale smile creeping across his features. "You're up to something. It's all over your face, Fujiko-chan."
"Oh, me?" Fuji played innocent before snapping Eiji's rear with a towel and he yelped to heaven and back. "Then that was it."
Eiji mewled his pain away and rubbed at his sore backside.
****
There are certain places Tezuka expects to see people. He expects his boss to be in his office between the hours of 9 and 5, just like his boss expects him to be somewhere in the vicinity of the building during the same hours. It made sense; he was paid to be there. But there are other things, such as he's sure he'll see the same postman on Saturdays at eleven am. At the checkout counter at the grocery store he knows he'll see a cashier asking him if he wants paper or plastic. Anything else bends the rules of expectancy.
So after a long day at work, he nearly jumped upon seeing the barista that served his coffee every morning standing next to him on the train platform.
"You take the train." It was a statement, not a question.
Smiling eyes looked up at him through honey brown locks. "I missed the earlier one."
Tezuka nodded slowly before assuming the position one always does while waiting for a train. The barista followed suit and a gentle quiet passed over them until the screech of the train coming down the tracks caused them both to step back and away from the yellow line. The train doors hissed open and a cool woman's voice announced to Mind The Gap as they boarded.
The barista gestured to the train "After you" in a way that Tezuka wasn't sure if he was being polite or teasing him. The gentle smile on his face suggested the latter. Tezuka gave him a look that only stretched the barista's smile.
The later trains were always fuller than the earlier ones. Especially if, like this one, it was an express that hit only the major stops. And especially if it was rush hour, such as now. Finding a seat was damn near impossible but somehow the barista did, slipping under Tezuka's arm to sit right in front of where Tezuka had decided to stand.
The train suddenly jerked alive. The hand not holding his briefcase slammed against the window just before he toppled onto the barista, who looked amused but unfazed. They locked eyes for a full minute before Tezuka looked away from the calm intensity of the barista's gaze.
Helpfully, he adjusted Tezuka's glasses by sliding a single finger up the bridge of his nose. "Better?"
Tezuka's breath hitched and he swallowed, trying to find balance in the thundering train. And somehow he still managed to murmur a "Thank you."
A father and baby came on two stops later. Clutching the child to his chest, he weaved through the crowd to the best of his ability before planting himself firmly next to a pole. The clerk looked to the father and pointed down as if to say "Do you want to sit here?" After a few moments of juggling the baby in his arms while trying to hold onto the pole and balance, he gave up and graciously accepted the offer.
The barista stood just as the train jolted again. Tezuka's hand shot out to grab his forearm, but the barista was quicker and had already wrapped his fingers around another pole. Feeling the rush of blood to his face, Tezuka let go just in time to hear familiar snickering.
As more people crowded on, they too crowded each others space to find some comfort in the clutter. It was like playing a horribly intricate game of twister. Tezuka lifted an arm up to grab the bar and steady himself and in turn, the barista wrapped an arm around his waist to reach the pole behind him. Mercifully, that was the better option, seeing how the clerk's shirt seemed to rise slightly with every shift of the train.
The barista raised an eyebrow, still seemingly unaffected by their closeness. Tezuka swallowed again and politely looked away even though he could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the hard lines of his body defining the supple muscles of his arms, stomach, legs...
Tezuka closed his eyes. He was not thinking about how the top of coffee clerk's head brushed the underside of his chin, tickling it with his down-soft hair every time he moved or how he smelled like the cafe but his hair smelled faintly of apples. He was not thinking about the subtle shifts when their legs entwined. And he was definitely not thinking about the cool hazel eyes that flashed in his direction every time they were pressed together.
The torture lasted for a record-breaking fifteen minutes. And in that time, people shuffled in and out of the train, sometimes brushing against them, sometimes pushing them, but never completely jostling them out of their fixed position. Tezuka looked down once to find the clerk's eyes glance up at the same time. His lips were moving but the loudness of the train on the tracks covered his words.
In the intimacy of being closely compacted together in a human sardine box, the barista's already quiet voice had dropped to a low whisper. When Tezuka couldn't catch what he said, he dipped his head a little lower toward his lips at the same time the barista tilted his head a little higher. They traded breaths like secrets. Tezuka clutched the pole a little tighter as he listened for the clerk's words.
"I get off next."
He swallowed. "Aa."
When the barista's lips curved to a smile, Tezuka knew something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.
"I need to get to the door."
"...right." Tezuka was standing nearest to it. He sidestepped just enough for one person to squeeze between himself and the filled chairs.
"You can let go of me now."
What?
Tezuka snapped his head back and followed the line of his arm. Somehow, in the mix of things, Tezuka's arm hand wound its way around the barista's waist in an attempt for both of them to get comfortable (or so he kept telling himself). He unraveled his arm (which somehow felt like it had betrayed him) and nodded a silent goodbye.
"It's Fuji."
He looked up just in time to see 'Fuji' close his fingers each of his fingers in a 'goodbye' by the sliding doors.
He cleared his throat. "Tezuka."
I know was written in Fuji's eyes as the train doors closed.
****
For the next few days, Eight-Thirty arrived, without fail, to the coffee shop at his designated time. Fuji would smile, prepare his coffee, and cap the lid on with a smile. The only times they touched would be when money or coffee exchanged hands.
Fuji failed to catch the earlier train only one other time. And that time he didn't let Tezuka know his arm had found its place around his waist. He simply slipped out of it when the time came to leave and waved at the door.
Two days later, Fuji had been putting the cream on Tezuka's coffee while Eiji worked the register and counted the bills.
"Keep your change?" Eiji read off a tiny piece of white paper. "I think this is yours, sir."
Fuji's eyes had flickered to Tezuka's for a brief moment before handing him his coffee, offering the tiniest of smiles.
"You're killing him." Eiji giggled as Tezuka left.
****
Fuji glanced up at the clock three minutes before eight-thirty and was surprised to see his Eight-Thirty was early. And, if Fuji was correct, walking with a purpose and his purpose looked like it was Fuji.
However, in the space of the first fifteen minutes after opening, a few of the regulars had come in as well and a short queue had formed. Eight-Thirty (or Tezuka) froze in his spot, clearly ignoring the look of amusement Fuji was sporting, and lined up with the rest of them.
Fuji chanced a glance between setting a top on a cup and handing it to the customer. He smirked. Eight-Thirty (or Tezuka) was all but the air of calm. Fuji wondered if he knew that his seemingly calm demenor rippled 'I'm stressed'.
Eiji waved at the customer leaving and whispered under his breath "I think he's on to you..."
Fuji didn't reply, but said "Have a nice day" to the next customer with a little more cheeriness than usual. And when Eight-Thirty (still Tezuka) was standing behind the next person in line, he made sure to look up at him. Eight-Thirty's eyes had narrowed as he watched Fuji serve the last order and wave the customer away.
"Back again?" Fuji piped. "Still want a tall, black coffee, no milk, sprinkle of - "
"You're doing this to me on purpose."
"Am I that obvious?"
Once again, it was worth it just to watch Tezuka's cheeks color if only for a second. At his side, Eiji's jaw dropped. Fuji helped him close it again without looking.
***
Author's Notes:
Conversation clip while writing this chapter:
thelovelight: Oh Tezuka. So manly. Yet so uke sometimes.
cleverlilwill: ........................Just the way I like him. ♥
Hopefully I achieved just that. ^^;;
Part III//I tried to give you up. But I'm addicted
Synopsis: Fuji's a barista at a tiny coffee shop. Tezuka is worker at an architectural firm. By chance or misfortune, luck or some chaotic scheme against them both, they meet.
Genre: Slice of Life/Cafe Story
Rating: PG-13 (maybe higher later)
Word Count: 2578
Warnings: None in this chapter
Dedication: cleverlilwill, my dearest beta and friend, of whom without I would have never started writing ZukaFuji. ♥
Part Two
Je peux voir la lueur
Je peux voir la lueur en toi
- Kwan, Lueur
A few minutes after eight and Fuji was alone behind the register, counting the cash box and breaking rolls of coins into their proper slot. Some customers were just settling into their morning brews and taking their seats in the booths by the window.
Whatever tentative hush that had rolled over the store was broken as a blur of red barreled through the doors.
"Kya! I'm late I'm late I'm laaate!" Eiji vaulted over the counter and dodged around Fuji six times before the latter man could blink. "Did he notice yet? Did he see me? Did I make it on time? Am I late? Am I dead? Did he see me?"
"Eiji - "
"Nyaaah.... he probably hates me. Tell me the truth, Fuji, he hates me!"
"Eiji...."
Panic settling in, Eiji started pacing. "He hates me doesn't he? One of these days he's going to kill me and feed me to Kabaji!"
Kabaji was one of the storage workers who appeared, at random, to deliver goods to the cafe. Eiji had been wary of him ever since he appeared, at random, behind him and followed him around the cafe for the better part of an hour. Oishi had to explain to a frightened Eiji that his hair was very similar in style to the man Kabaji worked for. Being a visual thinker, it was only natural for Kabaji to take a sincere liking to Eiji.
"I didn't know Oishi and Kabaji were that close." He spun Eiji around, who was trying to do up his apron by himself and had only succeeded in nearly tying his fingers in knots. "I thought Kabaji only took orders from his boss."
Eiji visibly paled, thunderstruck and horrified as he slowly turned to Fuji with large eyes, his kitten mouth becoming an 'o'. "........Kabaji eats people?"
"Breathe, Eiji."
"I'm calm.... I'm calm...." He pressed his palms flat against the glass of the counter while murmuring a stream of 'Oishi, don't hate me's under his breath. Fuji chuckled to himself as he looped one string around the other. He had just finished the last bow when Oishi poked his head out of the backroom.
"Eiji?"
"Hoi!" Eiji shot into the air, knocking into the machines. Fuji looked up and caught the flying coffeepot just in time before it shattered against the linoleum.
Oishi frowned for a second but shook his head and ignored the almost accident. "Did you just get in?"
"Y-...yes..." The redhead lowered his head. "My alarm didn't go off...and there was traffic and I thought it was going to rain so I went back for an umbrella and my toothpaste had finished so I needed to buy some -"
"I don't want to hear your excuses." Oishi's kind smile broke through like sunshine. "You said you were going to be late last week. Isn't one of your sisters sleeping over?"
"Eh?" Eiji's face went as red as his hair as he stared at Fuji.
Fuji hummed Eiji's humiliation to the tune of Flight of the Bumblebees while twirling the coffeepot by the handle. "I tried to tell you."
"Fuji, please..." Oishi took the pot away from him and set it delicately on the closed burner. "The last thing we need is another broken pot."
Fair enough, Fuji stopped buzzing long enough for Eiji's color to return to his face. The last pot had broken while Eiji had been trying a balancing act on a broom between two chairs while Fuji fed him dishes. (Fortunately only three dishes, a mug, and a coffeepot were sacrificed in the process. Later, Oishi had chided them in his office but ended with "We needed to get new china anyway." and "This won't be coming out of your paychecks.")
"Mmm?" The redhead leaned across the counter. "Your Eight-Thirty is back." An apt nickname Eiji had adopted due to his favorite employee's impeccable timing.
It had been a week since Eight-Thirty's first entrance into the cafe. And since then, Fuji had learned little about him save the way he liked his coffee brewed, that he worked for an architectural firm a few blocks away, and that despite his clean suits, his hair was a perpetual unruly mess. It suited him just fine.
The day after Eight-Thirty had first come in, he returned with a hesitant frown and stared at the barista for a total of fourteen seconds as if trying to pick out which question to ask first. Fuji, ever patient, had to bite his lip to stop the laughter bubbling in his chest.
Eight-Thirty had fixed his mouth into a line in thought. "Do you do coffee as well?"
"Well, this is a coffee shop. I hope so." It was worth it just to watch the other man try to stifle his blush.
He had tried again, trying to ignore the weight of Fuji's smile by pulling out his wallet and paying for a simple blend. And everyday, without fail, he would sit in the same seat he sat in before and nurse his coffee until five minutes til nine.
Fuji had turned the initial encounter over in his mind. And each time, he had chuckled until Eiji finally slapped his hand on the counter and asked him "What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing."
"It doesn't sound like nothing." Eiji had muttered under his breath, but let the topic go as another customer begged for his attention.
Today, Eight-Thirty made his way over to the counter just as Eiji managed to grab his morning pastry.
"Back again?" Fuji asked as if he didn't come at the same time every day.
The man nodded shortly, pulling out his change again. "You're the only one who does it how I like it."
Maybe it was Fuji's not-so-subtle, but still tiny smile. Maybe it was the man turning the words over in his head. Either way, Eight-Thirty turned an attractive shade of crimson that only complimented his gray suit.
Fuji turned to hide his blossoming grin, effectively facing him toward the coffee machines. The order wasn't particularly hard. Tall black coffee, no milk, with only a sprinkle of sugar and a dollop of whipped cream. A simple coffee in a cardboard cup. Fuji exchanged the coffee for dollar bills and watched him walk to his seat by the window.
"You're the only one that does it how I like it." Eiji echoed in his best impression of Eight-Thirty's deep voice and none-too-softly, though Fuji had to give him some credit for trying to whisper. He never was good at it. "Eh? That sounds dangerous, dangerous."
Fuji shook his head and began washing the empty coffeepot. "You're funny, Eiji."
Eiji leaned across the counter again before glancing back at his best friend, who now had a tell-tale smile creeping across his features. "You're up to something. It's all over your face, Fujiko-chan."
"Oh, me?" Fuji played innocent before snapping Eiji's rear with a towel and he yelped to heaven and back. "Then that was it."
Eiji mewled his pain away and rubbed at his sore backside.
****
There are certain places Tezuka expects to see people. He expects his boss to be in his office between the hours of 9 and 5, just like his boss expects him to be somewhere in the vicinity of the building during the same hours. It made sense; he was paid to be there. But there are other things, such as he's sure he'll see the same postman on Saturdays at eleven am. At the checkout counter at the grocery store he knows he'll see a cashier asking him if he wants paper or plastic. Anything else bends the rules of expectancy.
So after a long day at work, he nearly jumped upon seeing the barista that served his coffee every morning standing next to him on the train platform.
"You take the train." It was a statement, not a question.
Smiling eyes looked up at him through honey brown locks. "I missed the earlier one."
Tezuka nodded slowly before assuming the position one always does while waiting for a train. The barista followed suit and a gentle quiet passed over them until the screech of the train coming down the tracks caused them both to step back and away from the yellow line. The train doors hissed open and a cool woman's voice announced to Mind The Gap as they boarded.
The barista gestured to the train "After you" in a way that Tezuka wasn't sure if he was being polite or teasing him. The gentle smile on his face suggested the latter. Tezuka gave him a look that only stretched the barista's smile.
The later trains were always fuller than the earlier ones. Especially if, like this one, it was an express that hit only the major stops. And especially if it was rush hour, such as now. Finding a seat was damn near impossible but somehow the barista did, slipping under Tezuka's arm to sit right in front of where Tezuka had decided to stand.
The train suddenly jerked alive. The hand not holding his briefcase slammed against the window just before he toppled onto the barista, who looked amused but unfazed. They locked eyes for a full minute before Tezuka looked away from the calm intensity of the barista's gaze.
Helpfully, he adjusted Tezuka's glasses by sliding a single finger up the bridge of his nose. "Better?"
Tezuka's breath hitched and he swallowed, trying to find balance in the thundering train. And somehow he still managed to murmur a "Thank you."
A father and baby came on two stops later. Clutching the child to his chest, he weaved through the crowd to the best of his ability before planting himself firmly next to a pole. The clerk looked to the father and pointed down as if to say "Do you want to sit here?" After a few moments of juggling the baby in his arms while trying to hold onto the pole and balance, he gave up and graciously accepted the offer.
The barista stood just as the train jolted again. Tezuka's hand shot out to grab his forearm, but the barista was quicker and had already wrapped his fingers around another pole. Feeling the rush of blood to his face, Tezuka let go just in time to hear familiar snickering.
As more people crowded on, they too crowded each others space to find some comfort in the clutter. It was like playing a horribly intricate game of twister. Tezuka lifted an arm up to grab the bar and steady himself and in turn, the barista wrapped an arm around his waist to reach the pole behind him. Mercifully, that was the better option, seeing how the clerk's shirt seemed to rise slightly with every shift of the train.
The barista raised an eyebrow, still seemingly unaffected by their closeness. Tezuka swallowed again and politely looked away even though he could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the hard lines of his body defining the supple muscles of his arms, stomach, legs...
Tezuka closed his eyes. He was not thinking about how the top of coffee clerk's head brushed the underside of his chin, tickling it with his down-soft hair every time he moved or how he smelled like the cafe but his hair smelled faintly of apples. He was not thinking about the subtle shifts when their legs entwined. And he was definitely not thinking about the cool hazel eyes that flashed in his direction every time they were pressed together.
The torture lasted for a record-breaking fifteen minutes. And in that time, people shuffled in and out of the train, sometimes brushing against them, sometimes pushing them, but never completely jostling them out of their fixed position. Tezuka looked down once to find the clerk's eyes glance up at the same time. His lips were moving but the loudness of the train on the tracks covered his words.
In the intimacy of being closely compacted together in a human sardine box, the barista's already quiet voice had dropped to a low whisper. When Tezuka couldn't catch what he said, he dipped his head a little lower toward his lips at the same time the barista tilted his head a little higher. They traded breaths like secrets. Tezuka clutched the pole a little tighter as he listened for the clerk's words.
"I get off next."
He swallowed. "Aa."
When the barista's lips curved to a smile, Tezuka knew something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.
"I need to get to the door."
"...right." Tezuka was standing nearest to it. He sidestepped just enough for one person to squeeze between himself and the filled chairs.
"You can let go of me now."
What?
Tezuka snapped his head back and followed the line of his arm. Somehow, in the mix of things, Tezuka's arm hand wound its way around the barista's waist in an attempt for both of them to get comfortable (or so he kept telling himself). He unraveled his arm (which somehow felt like it had betrayed him) and nodded a silent goodbye.
"It's Fuji."
He looked up just in time to see 'Fuji' close his fingers each of his fingers in a 'goodbye' by the sliding doors.
He cleared his throat. "Tezuka."
I know was written in Fuji's eyes as the train doors closed.
****
For the next few days, Eight-Thirty arrived, without fail, to the coffee shop at his designated time. Fuji would smile, prepare his coffee, and cap the lid on with a smile. The only times they touched would be when money or coffee exchanged hands.
Fuji failed to catch the earlier train only one other time. And that time he didn't let Tezuka know his arm had found its place around his waist. He simply slipped out of it when the time came to leave and waved at the door.
Two days later, Fuji had been putting the cream on Tezuka's coffee while Eiji worked the register and counted the bills.
"Keep your change?" Eiji read off a tiny piece of white paper. "I think this is yours, sir."
Fuji's eyes had flickered to Tezuka's for a brief moment before handing him his coffee, offering the tiniest of smiles.
"You're killing him." Eiji giggled as Tezuka left.
****
Fuji glanced up at the clock three minutes before eight-thirty and was surprised to see his Eight-Thirty was early. And, if Fuji was correct, walking with a purpose and his purpose looked like it was Fuji.
However, in the space of the first fifteen minutes after opening, a few of the regulars had come in as well and a short queue had formed. Eight-Thirty (or Tezuka) froze in his spot, clearly ignoring the look of amusement Fuji was sporting, and lined up with the rest of them.
Fuji chanced a glance between setting a top on a cup and handing it to the customer. He smirked. Eight-Thirty (or Tezuka) was all but the air of calm. Fuji wondered if he knew that his seemingly calm demenor rippled 'I'm stressed'.
Eiji waved at the customer leaving and whispered under his breath "I think he's on to you..."
Fuji didn't reply, but said "Have a nice day" to the next customer with a little more cheeriness than usual. And when Eight-Thirty (still Tezuka) was standing behind the next person in line, he made sure to look up at him. Eight-Thirty's eyes had narrowed as he watched Fuji serve the last order and wave the customer away.
"Back again?" Fuji piped. "Still want a tall, black coffee, no milk, sprinkle of - "
"You're doing this to me on purpose."
"Am I that obvious?"
Once again, it was worth it just to watch Tezuka's cheeks color if only for a second. At his side, Eiji's jaw dropped. Fuji helped him close it again without looking.
***
Author's Notes:
Conversation clip while writing this chapter:
thelovelight: Oh Tezuka. So manly. Yet so uke sometimes.
cleverlilwill: ........................Just the way I like him. ♥
Hopefully I achieved just that. ^^;;
Part III//I tried to give you up. But I'm addicted