Useless Fic
Rating: G
Words: 964
Warnings: Unbeta-ed, pathetic attempt at humor
Dunno why I'm posting this up since it's pretty pointless. Oh, well.
Tezuka surveyed his new study with deep satisfaction. The room was the smallest in the three-room condo and was originally used to store Echizen’s junk. However, now that Tezuka was starting a new job as an attorney for Atobe Incorporated, he had cleared everything out for his own use. His shoulders ached as he remembered of hours of scrubbing and dusting and painting the room in a light seafoam green; Echizen had staunchly refused to let Tezuka paint it either fuchsia, which he claimed was too feminine, or teal, which reminded him too much of Fuji.
Once the room was cleaned and painted with an Echizen-approved color, Tezuka slowly started to move the in furniture he would need for the study. The bookshelves that had been crowding the living room now resided here, along with several comfortable chairs, a lamp stand, and one of Fuji’s framed photographs. Another landscape painting of Mount Fiji adorned the other wall not claimed by the bookshelf or window.
But what Tezuka was most proud of was his new desk. It was a wide, deep brown oak with antique handles on each of the drawers, three on each side and one right in the middle. The feet of the desk were curved, balancing squarely on four sides. He had seen it at a new/used furniture shop and had fallen in love with its simplistic, unvarnished beauty almost instantly. Despite the fact he didn’t approve of making hasty decisions, Tezuka knew this was exactly what he wanted in his new study.
Examining the recently polished surface now, he leaned forward and frowned at the placement of objects on his desk. Tezuka had set up the desk with his fountain pen set his grandfather had given him when he graduated law school, a framed photograph of Echizen, and several sheets of heavy bond paper ready for use. He moved the picture of Echizen holding the trophy for the Dubai Open last year just a smidgen to the left. Then he stepped back and studied the desk again. Perfect.
Through the open door of the study that Echizen had grudgingly given up so Tezuka would have an office at home (“But you’ll have an office at your job. Why do you need one at home? You’re not planning on being a workaholic and ignoring me, are you?”), Tezuka could hear faint mewls of displeasure. A few hours ago, Echizen had announced he was going to bathe Karupin in the tub, the only way to keep the Himalayan’s fur as white as pure snow. Tezuka had resigned himself to cleaning up the wet bathroom floor later on but cheered himself up looking - and not obsessing as Echizen accused him of - at his neatly organized desk.
Tezuka was still admiring the gleaming polish that reflected his image back to him when he heard another distressed cry and Echizen shouting, “Karupin! Stay still! I just need to towel you - come back here!”
Moments later, a deeply unhappy, wet feline streaked into the study and leapt up onto Tezuka’s new desk, spraying water everywhere from his dripping fur. He skidded on the smooth polish and tried to stop himself from sliding off the desk by digging his claws into the wood. Tezuka watched in horror as Karupin rammed into the carefully placed objects, throwing things off the desk left and right. Echizen’s picture smashed to the ground and the glass splintered in the middle. Tezuka’s carefully capped ink for his fountain pen flew into the air and hit the wall with a sickening crack, splashing the black liquid against the painted wall. Rivulets of ink streamed down to collect into a puddle. The bond paper flew up and floated to the ground, sporting wet drops on the cream colored background.
Tezuka couldn’t speak and Karupin looked confused as he slowed to a halt. “Rawr?” he asked Tezuka.
Echizen skidded into the room and stared at the mess his cat had made. Sensing imminent danger to his pet, he leapt forward, tackled Karupin across the desk and hopped up to his feet again. Karupin struggled briefly in Echizen’s arms, only to freeze as Tezuka tore his gaze away from the ruined desk to look at the two of them. The fur on Karupin’s back, despite still being damp, stood straight up in alarm.
“Echizen,” Tezuka said in a dangerously quiet voice.
Echizen swallowed hard. “Yes, Buchou?” he whispered, not daring to look at grooves on the once smooth surface. On the one hand, he was actually impressed Karupin’s claws were hard enough to go through that kind of wood. On the other, Tezuka’s desk was ruined - and he had been so proud of it, too. Echizen started thinking of ways to get Karupin out of this alive.
“Take that cat out of here. Now.”
“Y-yes, Buchou.” He didn’t have to be told twice; the tone of voice was like the first and only time Tezuka had spoken coldly to him, right after training for the Junior Invitational years ago. Only this time, the tone was worse. Much worse.
Echizen scrambled out of the study, feeling Karupin shaking in his arms. “You’re lucky Buchou doesn’t want you skinned alive,” he hissed to the cat as he made a beeline for the farthest end of the condo.
Karupin didn’t say anything and stayed out of Tezuka’s way for the rest of the day - which was actually easy considering Tezuka never stepped out of the study the entire time. Echizen left his boyfriend alone to mourn the loss of his desk privately.
And just in case, Echizen phoned his mother and asked if Karupin could stay at their house for a while. In the meantime, he had to start shopping to find Tezuka an exact replica of the desk.
Words: 964
Warnings: Unbeta-ed, pathetic attempt at humor
Dunno why I'm posting this up since it's pretty pointless. Oh, well.
Tezuka surveyed his new study with deep satisfaction. The room was the smallest in the three-room condo and was originally used to store Echizen’s junk. However, now that Tezuka was starting a new job as an attorney for Atobe Incorporated, he had cleared everything out for his own use. His shoulders ached as he remembered of hours of scrubbing and dusting and painting the room in a light seafoam green; Echizen had staunchly refused to let Tezuka paint it either fuchsia, which he claimed was too feminine, or teal, which reminded him too much of Fuji.
Once the room was cleaned and painted with an Echizen-approved color, Tezuka slowly started to move the in furniture he would need for the study. The bookshelves that had been crowding the living room now resided here, along with several comfortable chairs, a lamp stand, and one of Fuji’s framed photographs. Another landscape painting of Mount Fiji adorned the other wall not claimed by the bookshelf or window.
But what Tezuka was most proud of was his new desk. It was a wide, deep brown oak with antique handles on each of the drawers, three on each side and one right in the middle. The feet of the desk were curved, balancing squarely on four sides. He had seen it at a new/used furniture shop and had fallen in love with its simplistic, unvarnished beauty almost instantly. Despite the fact he didn’t approve of making hasty decisions, Tezuka knew this was exactly what he wanted in his new study.
Examining the recently polished surface now, he leaned forward and frowned at the placement of objects on his desk. Tezuka had set up the desk with his fountain pen set his grandfather had given him when he graduated law school, a framed photograph of Echizen, and several sheets of heavy bond paper ready for use. He moved the picture of Echizen holding the trophy for the Dubai Open last year just a smidgen to the left. Then he stepped back and studied the desk again. Perfect.
Through the open door of the study that Echizen had grudgingly given up so Tezuka would have an office at home (“But you’ll have an office at your job. Why do you need one at home? You’re not planning on being a workaholic and ignoring me, are you?”), Tezuka could hear faint mewls of displeasure. A few hours ago, Echizen had announced he was going to bathe Karupin in the tub, the only way to keep the Himalayan’s fur as white as pure snow. Tezuka had resigned himself to cleaning up the wet bathroom floor later on but cheered himself up looking - and not obsessing as Echizen accused him of - at his neatly organized desk.
Tezuka was still admiring the gleaming polish that reflected his image back to him when he heard another distressed cry and Echizen shouting, “Karupin! Stay still! I just need to towel you - come back here!”
Moments later, a deeply unhappy, wet feline streaked into the study and leapt up onto Tezuka’s new desk, spraying water everywhere from his dripping fur. He skidded on the smooth polish and tried to stop himself from sliding off the desk by digging his claws into the wood. Tezuka watched in horror as Karupin rammed into the carefully placed objects, throwing things off the desk left and right. Echizen’s picture smashed to the ground and the glass splintered in the middle. Tezuka’s carefully capped ink for his fountain pen flew into the air and hit the wall with a sickening crack, splashing the black liquid against the painted wall. Rivulets of ink streamed down to collect into a puddle. The bond paper flew up and floated to the ground, sporting wet drops on the cream colored background.
Tezuka couldn’t speak and Karupin looked confused as he slowed to a halt. “Rawr?” he asked Tezuka.
Echizen skidded into the room and stared at the mess his cat had made. Sensing imminent danger to his pet, he leapt forward, tackled Karupin across the desk and hopped up to his feet again. Karupin struggled briefly in Echizen’s arms, only to freeze as Tezuka tore his gaze away from the ruined desk to look at the two of them. The fur on Karupin’s back, despite still being damp, stood straight up in alarm.
“Echizen,” Tezuka said in a dangerously quiet voice.
Echizen swallowed hard. “Yes, Buchou?” he whispered, not daring to look at grooves on the once smooth surface. On the one hand, he was actually impressed Karupin’s claws were hard enough to go through that kind of wood. On the other, Tezuka’s desk was ruined - and he had been so proud of it, too. Echizen started thinking of ways to get Karupin out of this alive.
“Take that cat out of here. Now.”
“Y-yes, Buchou.” He didn’t have to be told twice; the tone of voice was like the first and only time Tezuka had spoken coldly to him, right after training for the Junior Invitational years ago. Only this time, the tone was worse. Much worse.
Echizen scrambled out of the study, feeling Karupin shaking in his arms. “You’re lucky Buchou doesn’t want you skinned alive,” he hissed to the cat as he made a beeline for the farthest end of the condo.
Karupin didn’t say anything and stayed out of Tezuka’s way for the rest of the day - which was actually easy considering Tezuka never stepped out of the study the entire time. Echizen left his boyfriend alone to mourn the loss of his desk privately.
And just in case, Echizen phoned his mother and asked if Karupin could stay at their house for a while. In the meantime, he had to start shopping to find Tezuka an exact replica of the desk.