To Em; February prompt number 22
Tezuka/Fuji - Promise me to pass the time/Dance with me on plastic tears/Kiss me We won't feel alone/Till morning when we disappear.
Geisha!fic if you can work it, if not canon.
Geisha!fic if you can work it, if not canon.
The room is not silent at any point in the evening, and the sound does not reach a lull when the servant girl for the teahouse enters the room to whisper into Fuji's ear. It just feels like it does.
Or so he would have you believe; all she has said is that the flowers he always makes sure to admire in the garden have begun to bloom again. His gasp is purposely slight; a gasp as though terrible news has been delivered.
He discovers then that he can loose a tear on demand. It's just one tiny tear, but it's convincing enough for Tezuka-san. He looks almost ruffled by the situation.
"Shall I escort you outside?" he asks quietly, making sure not to draw attention. Of course he would skip past the glaringly obvious 'is something wrong?'. It is better this way; this way, Fuji does not have to lie.
"Yes please." He whispers, clutching Tezuka's arm like it's a life-support ring. He tucks his head down and attempts to keep up the subdued act while his insides are swarming with pleasure that his pretense is going like clockwork. It is selfish and stupid to be conniving to find ways to spend time alone with Tezuka-san, but once he has thought of a plan things just seem to unravel on their own until they are precisely how Fuji wants them.
When he thinks about being caught out in his own game, sometimes he thinks that he just might not mind it happening, and that scares him. It doesn't stop him though.
They sit in silence on a bench; Fuji does not want to speak and ruin the moment, break the spell, and he knows Tezuka does not want to enquire or press him as it will seem rude. Perhaps he doesn't even want to know what the possible problems or dramas of a geisha could be. Time and time again he has pointed out how little he truly cares for them. But he is Tezuka and he does as he is supposed to do in his society. Fuji's skin crawls, and Tezuka mistakes it for chill from the night air.
"You should wear more layers," Tezuka chides.
"In this line of work, that isn't very practical." Fuji smiles slightly. "Surely you see the sense of my showing a little skin?"
"Ah." Tezuka says as affirmation. "A tease."
"Mmmm." Fuji's reply is non-commital. They both know the answer anyway.
"It is well-suited to you." Tezuka continues; he seems bent on distraction rather than comfort, now that words have finally been exchanged. "You enjoy teasing like no-one else I have ever met. Most women tease, but you are somewhat bolder about it."
"And more persistent." Fuji says before he thinks. And the geisha mask is dropped once more. If his teasing and flirting are an attempt to be bold, these simple retorts that slip out like breathing are even bolder still. Fuji waits with bated breath; time passes. He can see the sky itching to change. Morning calls.
They have been sat in the garden of the teahouse for hours; everyone in the room with them earlier that night long departed. Fuji soon realises with dismay that he will get no sleep at all; a work day for him, at his proper job in an office carried out while wearing a suit, shirt and tie. To undress and wash off the make-up and then redress will take up all his free time before he must leave to travel on the train. It is time to leave.
"Thank you," he says simply, and makes the stupidest move of all. He raises himself onto the tips of his toes to be almost of a height with Tezuka, and presses his lips to Tezuka's cheek. A soft, chaste thank-you kiss, but it takes all of Fuji's willpower not to grab Tezuka's chin and force him to turn his head so that their lips can meet instead.
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