FIC: Home, Taka/Fuji, PG
Title: Home
Author: cmere
Pairing: Taka/Fuji
Rating: PGish, maaaybe PG13
Summary: Taka misses tennis.
Word count: 1050
A/N: For shiun! I hope it makes you smile, sweetheart! :) ♥ Sorry I am apparently only capable of writing about people canoodling in bed. Thanks so much to reallycorking and longleggedgit for looking this over.
“Fuji?” Takashi murmurs, barely aware of what is happening except that he had been sleeping a minute ago. “Fujiko, is that you?”
“I’m home,” Fuji says, barely a whisper. Taka can make out his shape in the darkness, setting down his things, pulling off wristbands and socks. It’s not long before he’s crawling into bed next to Taka, his shorts fluttering against Taka’s thighs. He smells like sweat and grass and grip tape. Taka inhales deeply.
“You’re home,” he says, his voice hoarse. Fuji’s hand finds his waist and slides over it, drawing him closer. “What time is it?”
“It’s not too late,” Fuji says, fingers skating over the bare skin of Taka’s hip, tracing the waistband of his boxers. “You must have been tired.”
“It was busy tonight,” Taka says. “And I kept messing up.”
“Now, why’s that?” Fuji whispers, his breath ghosting over Taka’s cheek. He takes a deep breath.
“I was thinking about you,” he admits. “You, and…tennis.”
“Ah,” Fuji says. His body curls up into Taka’s like it belongs there, and Taka’s arms go around him just as easily. “Were you thinking about me playing tennis, or you playing tennis?” Fuji’s shorts ruffle over Taka’s thigh again and he tries not to think about the soft skin of Fuji’s legs.
“Me, mostly,” Taka manages. Before he can apologize for being selfish, egocentric, only worrying about himself, Fuji is pressing their lips together, fingers tangling up in the short strands of Taka’s hair.
“Tell me what you were thinking about,” Fuji whispers, a breath away. Taka didn’t think he wanted to talk about it but something in Fuji’s voice makes him feel compelled to comply.
“Well, I started off thinking about you. You and how your legs look in those shorts,” Taka says shyly, and Fuji laughs a little. He can see his eyes are open, even in the dark, staring up at him, imploring him to go on. “And then I thought…what would it be like if I could stand on the court again? Did I really go all out and do my best when I had the chance? Fuji, I just…I don’t know.”
“Oh, Taka-san,” he says, and Taka can’t help but smile. “You’ve always gone all out and given your best when you really care, whether it’s tennis or sushi. And in both fields you’ve been able to grow and learn so much. Do you really think that’s not enough?”
“Ah, I don’t know,” Taka replies. “Maybe it’s enough. But I guess I still miss it.”
“Mmm,” is all Fuji says to that, but Taka feels like he understands. He kisses Taka again, slow and deep and languid, tongue slipping in and out between his lips and it’s not long before he is crawling on top of him, knees on either side of his hips and elbows propping Fuji up above his face.
“Fujiko,” Taka whispers when he pulls back in order to brush Taka’s hair off his forehead, to slide his slender fingers down Taka’s cheek.
“Takashi,” he says in reply, a small, genuine smile crossing his lips. He says, “I love the way you feel like this,” and then finds his lips again.
Taka completely loses track of how long they stay like that, kissing, running fingers over each other’s skin. He doesn’t even know when Fuji got home. It’s strangely nice to have no concept of what time it is, for it to not matter even a little. Fuji’s tongue brushes over Taka’s swollen lips and then trails over his jaw, pressing kisses here, nipping gently. Taka feels exhausted, boneless, content. Fuji’s mouth reaches his earlobe, sucks gently, and then Fuji whispers, “You haven’t lost tennis, if you don’t want to lose it.”
“What do you mean?” Taka murmurs, hands skating up the backs of Fuji’s thighs, under his shorts.
“I know you gave it up a long time ago, but.” He pauses. “You can always play with me.”
“Fujiko,” Taka says with a laugh. “You’re way out of my league now.”
“Bet I’m not,” Fuji says and kisses Taka’s eyebrow. “We could go to the street courts and challenge people in doubles. We were always a great team.”
“I loved playing with you,” Taka admits, feeling himself blush a little.
“Ah, Taka-san.” Fuji’s eyes are just barely open, and he smiles. “The only thing I love more than watching you with a racket is watching you make sushi for me.”
Taka smiles too. “With extra extra wasabi.”
“Nobody makes it like you do.” Fuji is hovering so close their noses brush together; he kisses Taka’s lips lightly, then wraps his arms around Taka’s shoulders and stays like that, still straddling his hips, his weight pressing down on Taka’s chest comfortably, their foreheads together. Taka fits his arms around Fuji’s slim waist and gently presses thumbs into his lower back, rubbing in small circles. Fuji lets out a contented sigh and settles his head against Taka’s shoulder, hair tickling Taka’s chin.
“Well,” Taka murmurs. “Maybe we could play sometime.”
“I think that would be nice,” Fuji whispers, somewhere near his ear.
“Only if you promise to go easy on me.”
“Maybe I’ll even let you win,” Fuji says, and Taka laughs a little. They lie quietly for a moment, and then Fuji asks, “Are you still feeling sad?”
“Not as much,” Taka says. “I miss tennis and I miss everybody on the team, but you can’t always wish for the past, right? Things are good now, too. I’m glad I made the choice I did.”
“As long as you’re happy,” Fuji says. Taka can feel him smiling against his neck; it makes Taka smile too.
“I’m very happy, Fujiko,” he says.
“Good,” Fuji says, and after a moment Taka feels a dry kiss placed against his neck. “I should take a shower before I fall asleep.”
Taka’s arms tighten around Fuji’s waist. “Don’t go,” he says.
“You like me smelling like this?” Fuji asks.
Taka buries his nose in Fuji’s hair. “Yes.”
Fuji laughs softly. “Okay, Taka-san. Let’s go to sleep.” He pulls back and gives Taka a sweet, lingering kiss before settling in again against his chest.
“Good night, Fujiko,” Taka whispers, and the last thing he notices before he falls asleep is Fuji’s sigh, followed by soft fingers brushing over his neck.
Author: cmere
Pairing: Taka/Fuji
Rating: PGish, maaaybe PG13
Summary: Taka misses tennis.
Word count: 1050
A/N: For shiun! I hope it makes you smile, sweetheart! :) ♥ Sorry I am apparently only capable of writing about people canoodling in bed. Thanks so much to reallycorking and longleggedgit for looking this over.
“Fuji?” Takashi murmurs, barely aware of what is happening except that he had been sleeping a minute ago. “Fujiko, is that you?”
“I’m home,” Fuji says, barely a whisper. Taka can make out his shape in the darkness, setting down his things, pulling off wristbands and socks. It’s not long before he’s crawling into bed next to Taka, his shorts fluttering against Taka’s thighs. He smells like sweat and grass and grip tape. Taka inhales deeply.
“You’re home,” he says, his voice hoarse. Fuji’s hand finds his waist and slides over it, drawing him closer. “What time is it?”
“It’s not too late,” Fuji says, fingers skating over the bare skin of Taka’s hip, tracing the waistband of his boxers. “You must have been tired.”
“It was busy tonight,” Taka says. “And I kept messing up.”
“Now, why’s that?” Fuji whispers, his breath ghosting over Taka’s cheek. He takes a deep breath.
“I was thinking about you,” he admits. “You, and…tennis.”
“Ah,” Fuji says. His body curls up into Taka’s like it belongs there, and Taka’s arms go around him just as easily. “Were you thinking about me playing tennis, or you playing tennis?” Fuji’s shorts ruffle over Taka’s thigh again and he tries not to think about the soft skin of Fuji’s legs.
“Me, mostly,” Taka manages. Before he can apologize for being selfish, egocentric, only worrying about himself, Fuji is pressing their lips together, fingers tangling up in the short strands of Taka’s hair.
“Tell me what you were thinking about,” Fuji whispers, a breath away. Taka didn’t think he wanted to talk about it but something in Fuji’s voice makes him feel compelled to comply.
“Well, I started off thinking about you. You and how your legs look in those shorts,” Taka says shyly, and Fuji laughs a little. He can see his eyes are open, even in the dark, staring up at him, imploring him to go on. “And then I thought…what would it be like if I could stand on the court again? Did I really go all out and do my best when I had the chance? Fuji, I just…I don’t know.”
“Oh, Taka-san,” he says, and Taka can’t help but smile. “You’ve always gone all out and given your best when you really care, whether it’s tennis or sushi. And in both fields you’ve been able to grow and learn so much. Do you really think that’s not enough?”
“Ah, I don’t know,” Taka replies. “Maybe it’s enough. But I guess I still miss it.”
“Mmm,” is all Fuji says to that, but Taka feels like he understands. He kisses Taka again, slow and deep and languid, tongue slipping in and out between his lips and it’s not long before he is crawling on top of him, knees on either side of his hips and elbows propping Fuji up above his face.
“Fujiko,” Taka whispers when he pulls back in order to brush Taka’s hair off his forehead, to slide his slender fingers down Taka’s cheek.
“Takashi,” he says in reply, a small, genuine smile crossing his lips. He says, “I love the way you feel like this,” and then finds his lips again.
Taka completely loses track of how long they stay like that, kissing, running fingers over each other’s skin. He doesn’t even know when Fuji got home. It’s strangely nice to have no concept of what time it is, for it to not matter even a little. Fuji’s tongue brushes over Taka’s swollen lips and then trails over his jaw, pressing kisses here, nipping gently. Taka feels exhausted, boneless, content. Fuji’s mouth reaches his earlobe, sucks gently, and then Fuji whispers, “You haven’t lost tennis, if you don’t want to lose it.”
“What do you mean?” Taka murmurs, hands skating up the backs of Fuji’s thighs, under his shorts.
“I know you gave it up a long time ago, but.” He pauses. “You can always play with me.”
“Fujiko,” Taka says with a laugh. “You’re way out of my league now.”
“Bet I’m not,” Fuji says and kisses Taka’s eyebrow. “We could go to the street courts and challenge people in doubles. We were always a great team.”
“I loved playing with you,” Taka admits, feeling himself blush a little.
“Ah, Taka-san.” Fuji’s eyes are just barely open, and he smiles. “The only thing I love more than watching you with a racket is watching you make sushi for me.”
Taka smiles too. “With extra extra wasabi.”
“Nobody makes it like you do.” Fuji is hovering so close their noses brush together; he kisses Taka’s lips lightly, then wraps his arms around Taka’s shoulders and stays like that, still straddling his hips, his weight pressing down on Taka’s chest comfortably, their foreheads together. Taka fits his arms around Fuji’s slim waist and gently presses thumbs into his lower back, rubbing in small circles. Fuji lets out a contented sigh and settles his head against Taka’s shoulder, hair tickling Taka’s chin.
“Well,” Taka murmurs. “Maybe we could play sometime.”
“I think that would be nice,” Fuji whispers, somewhere near his ear.
“Only if you promise to go easy on me.”
“Maybe I’ll even let you win,” Fuji says, and Taka laughs a little. They lie quietly for a moment, and then Fuji asks, “Are you still feeling sad?”
“Not as much,” Taka says. “I miss tennis and I miss everybody on the team, but you can’t always wish for the past, right? Things are good now, too. I’m glad I made the choice I did.”
“As long as you’re happy,” Fuji says. Taka can feel him smiling against his neck; it makes Taka smile too.
“I’m very happy, Fujiko,” he says.
“Good,” Fuji says, and after a moment Taka feels a dry kiss placed against his neck. “I should take a shower before I fall asleep.”
Taka’s arms tighten around Fuji’s waist. “Don’t go,” he says.
“You like me smelling like this?” Fuji asks.
Taka buries his nose in Fuji’s hair. “Yes.”
Fuji laughs softly. “Okay, Taka-san. Let’s go to sleep.” He pulls back and gives Taka a sweet, lingering kiss before settling in again against his chest.
“Good night, Fujiko,” Taka whispers, and the last thing he notices before he falls asleep is Fuji’s sigh, followed by soft fingers brushing over his neck.