Tezuka/Ryoma fic
Title: Dresses Are For Woman
Pairing: Tezuka/Ryoma
Rating: PG-13? Maybe R, but I doubt it.
Summary: Tezuka should never have opened the door. Now he cant close it, no matter how hard he tries.
Warnings: Cross-dressing, kissing, possible Tezuka being OC.
Authors notes: A long time ago, nekokatechan said she would like to see someone write a fic with Tezuka in a maid outfit and not be OC. I finally finished mine! I tried my best to write him being in character, but it was very hard. I mean, 'Tezuka' and 'maid outfit' just dont go together. But I tried my best! So I hope you like it!
It had started out as any other day. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Tezuka was on his way to Echizen’s house to play tennis. Not anything special or anything. Really the only reason that Tezuka was going was because he had nothing else to do. Also, Echizen had invited him. Sort of. It had been earlier in the week when Echizen had first started making some not so subtle hints that he happened to be free that weekend, and that he really wanted to play buchou again. Tezuka had, of course, ignored him, and assigned everyone to run 20 laps. There had been a lot of grumbling, and Echizen had shot him an annoyed look, but Tezuka had paid no attention, and promptly forgotten about it.
Until today, when Tezuka found himself bored, alone, and wanting to play tennis. And since Echizen HAD invited him (even if it was in a round about way), he saw no problem going over without calling first. He didn’t know his telephone number anyways.
Echizen’s house isn’t very far from his, only a thirty minute walk. It was a nice day, and Tezuka strolls along, thinking of nothing more than if he would be able to win today, and how he could teach Echizen more about being the pillar of Seigaku. He had only been to Echizen’s home a few times before, and never to play tennis, so even though Tezuka wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, he was actually looking forward to it. And he hadn’t played Echizen in quite a while; it would be interesting to see how much stronger he was compared to their last match.
His tennis bag was a comfortable weight on his shoulder, and the sun was warm, and Tezuka found himself almost smiling as Echizen’s house came into view. It was looking to be a good day.
He knocks on the door, and it is opened by a young woman, who blushes when he asks for Echizen, and waves him inside, saying, “Ryoma-kun is upstairs.”
Tezuka nods in thanks and starts to climb the stairs. He could hear loud music coming from above him, and he could only assume that it was Echizen playing it. He stopped in front of the room, and knocked on the door. There was no answer, but Tezuka was hardly surprised. How anyone could hear anything over the loud blare was beyond him. He knocked again, louder this time, but still the door remained closed. Shaking his head, Tezuka pushed open the door.
It was a move that he deeply regretted. Looking back, he should have just walked away.
He pushes open the door and steps inside. “Echizen,” he starts to say, but then stops. And stares. Ryoma is standing at his dresser, looking into a mirror, delicately applying dark red lipstick to his open mouth. He is wearing a black dress that came to his knees, and stockings, and even high heeled shoes. His eyes, which widen rapidly when he looks up and sees Tezuka reflected in the mirror, are heavily outlined in dark eyeliner, and his cheeks, which are lightly dusted with pink, flush a dark red colour as he spins around, gaping wordlessly at his captain.
There is silence for a moment, then…
“I hope that this doesn’t affect your tennis.”
Echizen, if possible, blushes even harder. “B-buchou!” he gasps. “What… what are you doing here?”
Tezuka is finding it very hard not to look at Echizen. “You wanted to play tennis with me,” he says, wishing that he had just stayed home. “I didn’t know you had… other plans…”
Echizen’s eyes widen. “It’s not what you think!” he says hastily. “I don’t normally do this! This was the first time! It was… it was Fuji-sempai’s idea!”
Tezuka thinks that Echizen’s make up is to expertly applied for it to have been the first time, but he doesn’t say it out loud. “You wanted to play tennis…” he mutters.
“B-but…” Echizen stammers. “You… you never said yes! I thought you didn’t want to!”
Tezuka frowns at Echizen’s feet. Really, he shouldn’t be wearing those shoes. Echizen might trip and break something. Though, maybe he is wearing them because they make him taller, Tezuka muses. The certainly make his legs look longer.
“Buchou?” Echizen asks. Tezuka has never heard him sounding so vulnerable before. And he has no idea what he should say.
The music had ended, and all that was left in its place was a very tense silence. Finally Echizen mutters, “Shut the door.”
Tezuka blinks, his eyes unwilling drawn back to Echizen’s dress clad form. “What?” he asks.
“I said shut the door!” Echizen hisses. “Do you want my family to come up here and see me like this?”
“They don’t know?” asks Tezuka stupidly.
Echizen flushes. “Of course not! Besides, it was the first time. And only a one time thing!” he adds quickly.
Tezuka nods absently, and closes the door, and then immediately wishes he had placed himself on the other side before doing so. But… this is a matter that has to be dealt with, so he sighs and turns around. “So…” he say, not sure how he was planning on finishing.
Echizen crosses his arms. “So what?” he practically snarls.
Tezuka frowns. And tries to think of what to say.
For some reason he can’t stop staring at Echizen’s lips.
[B R E A K]
When Tezuka leaves Echizen’s house half and hour later, he cant really say that anything was accomplished. For the most part they had just stood staring at each other in silence, Echizen’s eyes wandering around the room, the blush a permanent fixture on his face, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. Tezuka had tried to talk about it, going as far as to say that he would be happy to listen if Echizen was having any problems, like school, or even girl trouble, but judging by Echizen’s horrified look and his choked, “No!” that it wasn’t really the right thing to say. Again.
Finally, when Tezuka sensed that he was doing more damage than good by being there (if the way Echizen’s eye had began to twitch, and the way he now refused to look anywhere near Tezuka was any indication), he excused himself, and left. Echizen staring silently at the wall gave no indication that he had heard.
Needless to say, they didn’t play any tennis that day.
But now Tezuka’s problem isn’t that one of his team members is a cross dresser. The problem is that Tezuka can’t seem to stop thinking about it. It is all burned into his memory like a picture, the way the dress clung to Echizen’s slender hips, the way the shoes made his legs seem longer. The way his eyes seemed larger, and the way his mouth had been almost trembling near the end.
He can’t help but wonder how Echizen feels when he is dressed like that. What is the attraction in it? Personally Tezuka can’t see the attraction in it. But if Echizen likes it…
Tezuka shakes his head and bites his lip. Unwillingly, his eyes are drawn to the mirror on his door, and before he can stop himself, he wonders what he would look like with lipstick.
He jumps when his mother calls him for dinner, and he has to convince himself that he isn’t blushing.
As they are eating, Tezuka’s mother tells him all about her dress for the party she and his father are going to in a few nights.
“It’s a costume party!” She says excitedly. “And you will never guess what I am going to be!”
Tezuka shrugs his shoulders, taking a sip of water.
“I was downtown this afternoon, and I saw in the window of this cute little shop, the most perfect costume!”
Tezuka nods, but doesn’t look up until he hears his mother say, “And I tried to get your father to buy a butler costume to go with it, but he refused, of course.”
Tezuka’s father interrupts, saying, “of course I refused. A maid and a butler? A rich business man would be much more suited to go with it.”
Tezuka turns to his mother and says, “You are being a maid?”
She nods, looking faintly annoyed. “Weren’t you listening to me? I told you, I bought the cutest little French maid costume! I’ll show you after supper if you like.”
Tezuka nods again, but he can’t speak, because suddenly, horribly, he is thinking of what Echizen would look like dressed as a French maid.
[Break]
The next night Tezuka’s parents are out, and he is alone in the house, and although he knows it is a bad idea, Tezuka is in his room, staring at his mother’s costume that he is holding in his hands. Tezuka knows it is a bad idea, but he has do it, because he can’t stop thinking about it. And last night he dreamed of Echizen.
It had started out innocently enough. They had been playing tennis together, and the rest of the team was watching and cheering, and Tezuka had just been concentrating on returning the ball across the net, listening to the satisfying thump when he hit it. But then he blinked, and suddenly the tennis courts had disappeared, and Echizen was standing right in front of him, instead of across the court, like Tezuka was pretty sure he should be. And he was wearing the dress. Tezuka is sure that no where in his dreams should Echizen be wearing a dress, and… licking his lips like that. Echizen licks his lips, and Tezuka follows the movement, wondering how Echizen’s mouth can still be so red. It doesn’t seem possible, because wouldn’t the lipstick wear off? But then it doesn’t matter, because Tezuka can’t think anymore, not with Echizen suddenly pressed so tightly up against him, his small hands clutching Tezuka’s arms. Tezuka’s breath is coming shorter and faster, and Echizen’s face is too close. His hands are running teasingly up and down Tezuka’s back now, and as their lips finally brush, he can hear Echizen whisper, “mada mada dane… buchou.”
Tezuka had woken up sweaty, hard, and not at all pleased.
And now, as he holds up the lacy black and white thing, he wonders if it is really worth all the trouble. Or if he will even fit into it. Tezuka’s mother isn’t small, but he is definitely bigger than her. Slowly, so slowly that at this rate it will take all night, Tezuka removes his clothes, and picks up the dress again. Hardly able to believe he is about to do this, he pauses just once more to listen and make sure he really is alone, before stepping into the dress and sliding it up his legs.
It is a tight fit, but after a bit of tugging and pulling, the dress settles comfortably onto his hips, and he reaches around to try and zip up the back. It goes up about half way before he has to tug and pull, and finally, with a sharp yank, it slides the rest of the way up. Tezuka is almost afraid to look in the mirror, but in the end, his eyes are drawn to it, just like they were drawn to Echizen’s lips.
At first Tezuka thinks he looks absolutely ridiculous, and his immediate thought is to get that thing off him as fast as possible. He restrains himself, though, and forces himself to keep staring into the mirror. After about ten minutes, Tezuka is finally ready to admit, that maybe, maybe, he doesn’t look that bad. Not as good as Echizen, he muses, smoothing out the material, but not as horrible as, say Kaidoh, would look. And although the dress pulls really tightly across the chest, it fans out nicely when it gets to his legs, settling about mid thigh. It would be very impractical to play tennis in, though, and now Tezuka is experiencing it for himself, he cant see how the girls tennis team manages with those short skirts. The short sleeves cut into his arms, and he didn’t even bother with stockings or shoes, but all in all, Tezuka doesn’t think it is that bad. Maybe he would look better with make up, though. After all, that’s what Echizen did.
He takes a step towards his desk, and the dress swishes alarmingly around his legs. Tezuka can’t help but feel very exposed. It is a feeling entirely different than wearing shorts, and he knows which he prefers.
At his desk is eye shadow, eyeliner, blush, and lipstick (all taken from his mother that evening). Eyeing them, Tezuka decides to start with the eyeliner. It looks the simplest to apply.
It turns out, it isn’t. After almost poking himself in the eye three times, there are thick dark lines under his eyes, and Tezuka thinks he looks like a slut, rather than making his eyes wide and innocent, like Echizen. But he sighs and continues anyways. The eye shadow he chooses to use is brown, almost skin coloured, because Tezuka really can’t see how any of the other bright colours would look good. In the end though, he ends up putting on a little blue.
When Tezuka pauses to set down the brush, he examines himself closely in the mirror, and he can’t help but feel just a little bit proud that he looks as good as he does. He is willing to bet that Atobe wouldn’t look nearly as good as he does in a dress. Pleased by that, Tezuka reaches over and picks up the lipstick. Carefully he uncaps it, and runs the dark red colour over his bottom lip. So intent on his work, Tezuka fails to notice a knock on the door. He does notice, however, when he hears Echizen’s voice saying, “Buchou? Are you here? I knocked, but there was no answer, and there was a light on in your room, and the door was unlocked…”
Tezuka also notices when the door to his room is pushed open, but he cant do anything but stand there and stare hopelessly, still clutching the lipstick in his hand, as Echizen steps into his room. Looks up and sees him. And freezes.
The irony is not lost on Tezuka.
For a moment Echizen can’t speak. His eyes are wide, and he clears his throat, staring at Tezuka unblinkingly. Then suddenly he cocks his head to the side and takes in Tezuka standing stock still, dressed in a maid outfit. He smirks. “Che. I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Tezuka can feel his face turning red, and he crosses his arms over his chest self-consciously. He wants to tell Echizen to go run a hundred laps, but he knows it would be useless. Instead, he glares, and tries to look as threatening as possible. “Echizen,” he says through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here?”
It might be Tezuka’s imagination, but there is a faint blush appearing on Echizen’s cheeks. “I wanted to apologise to you, Buchou,” he says, pulling down his cap so Tezuka can no longer see his eyes. “You know… because you walked in on me and everything. I don’t feel like I explained myself properly,” he pauses, and Tezuka can feel Echizen’s smirk, even is he can’t see it. “Though maybe now I don’t have to,” Echizen finishes, his voice a murmur.
Tezuka’s glare is entirely useless, because Echizen still isn’t looking at him. He wants to protest. He wants to tell Echizen that it is a one time thing to try and get himself back to normal, and that it is not a regular occurrence, and really it is all Echizen’s fault in the first place. But he manages to stop himself before his mouth opens, because he can already see Echizen’s smirk, and hear his disbelieving voice saying, Really, Buchou? And then of course, the question of why it is Echizen’s fault would come up, and really, Tezuka doesn’t want to have to answer that.
What comes out of his mouth instead is, “don’t tell Fuji.” Or Inui. Or Oishi. Or anyone on the tennis team.
Echizen snorts. “Don’t worry, Buchou,” he says. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Who would believe me?”
With a sigh, Tezuka lets out a breath. Then he wonders how he is going to get Echizen out of his room, so he can get out of that horrible costume, and forget this whole thing ever happened. Before Tezuka can say anything, however, Echizen takes a step forward. The smirk is still on his face, but he is finally meeting Tezuka’s eyes.
Not that it helps, because Tezuka can’t read the emotion he sees in them. He thinks he sees a small smile tugging at Echizen’s lips, but then Tezuka can’t think at all, because Echizen has reached out, and is fingering the hem of his dress.
“A maid?” he asks, his amusement obvious. “Somehow I pictured something more… manly.”
“I dress isn’t supposed to be manly, Echizen,” says Tezuka sternly. “That’s why men don’t wear them. Dresses are supposed to be for woman.”
“Of course, Buchou,” says Echizen. He doesn’t laugh, but the corners of his lips twitch. It is a few moments he can speak again. Finally, when Echizen’s hand has moved up to the lace at Tezuka’s throat, he says softly, “you… look good, Buchou.”
Tezuka raises an eyebrow, and asks, “Excuse me?”
Echizen starts to stammer, his blush spreading rapidly, leading Tezuka to believe that he hadn’t actually meant to say those words out loud.
“I mean,” Echizen says quickly, “you don’t look good, good! But you don’t look as bad as say, Kaidoh, or Inui would wearing a dress!”
Tezuka nods. That is an acceptable excuse, seeing as he had thought the exact same thing. He can’t help but notice that Echizen’s hands haven’t left his throat. His fingers are tugging lightly at Tezuka’s collar, adjusting it slightly. Echizen’s nails brushing casually over Tezuka’s skin send shivers running down his back, and he frowns, and takes a step away.
Echizen’s hands fall to his sides, and he shoves them awkwardly into his pockets. “Your… collar wasn’t really straight,” he says, not looking Tezuka in the eye. When Tezuka doesn’t say anything, Echizen laughs nervously, and grins. “This is weird, isn’t it?” he asks.
Tezuka grunts his affirmation.
“I mean,” he continues, not noticing Tezuka’s eye twitch. “Who would have thought? Not me. I wonder-”
“Echizen,” Tezuka interrupts. “I am going to get changed now. Will you please step outside the room for a moment?”
Echizen just blinks at him for a moment, then, comprehension dawning on his face, he nods, and turns toward the door.
Tezuka watched him feeling relieved, until he reaches his hands around to his back pull down the zipper. “Wait, Echizen,” he calls.
He turns around to fast, Tezuka thinks, a hopeful expression on his face. Hopeful? Tezuka shakes his head, frowning.
“Yeah?” Echizen asks.
“I need help…” Tezuka can feel his face growing hotter. “I need your help… to unzip me.”
Echizen grins, and Tezuka scowls. “Of course Buchou!” he says cheerfully. “After all, I have lots of experience.”
“That is not funny, Echizen,” Tezuka says, annoyed. He is treating it all like a joke, and Tezuka considers just forgetting about it and throwing him out, but the thought of his parents coming home to find him stuck like this, or having to explain to his mother why her costume is ripped, is horrible enough that Tezuka hold his tongue.
So he turns around as Echizen walks back over to him, and soon he feels cold fingers brushing again over his heated skin. “This sure is stuck tight,” Echizen says. “How did you manage pull it up in the first place?”
Tezuka shrugs, and the movement allows the zipper to slid down enough that Echizen is able to force it slowly the rest of the way down.
With a sigh of relief, Tezuka is finally able to breath fully again. He turns around to thank Echizen, only to find the other boy staring at him. He is leaning closer, too close, his body a scant inch from Tezuka’s, and he knows what is going to happen a moment before Echizen closes the final distance and presses their lips gently together.
It is awkward, uncomfortable, and messy, and Tezuka doesn’t know why he hasn’t pulled away. Why he lets Echizen run his fingers through his hair, and pull his head down to a more comfortable angle. The dress is slipping off his shoulders and down his arms, making movement limited, until Echizen’s hands ran down his arms, taking the sleeves with them, pushing them off Tezuka’s hands, and leaving him bare from the waist up.
Tezuka shivers, even though he isn’t cold, but he has no time to think about it, because Echizen (no, Ryoma?) is slowly stepping backwards, and is tugging Tezuka with him. When his knees hit the edge of Tezuka’s bed, Ryoma falls back onto the mattress, leaving Tezuka standing, staring down at him. Ryoma’s eyes are glazed, his breath coming in short little gasps, and his lips and around his mouth are smeared with red from Tezuka’s lipstick.
And when he breathes, “Buchou,” it suddenly doesn’t matter to Tezuka that he is still half dressed in the maid outfit. He doesn’t think of how ridiculous he must look. He is past the point of caring, because he has never felt like this before. It is like his dream, except better, because Ryoma is actually here, flushed, panting, and reaching out for him, and not just in his imagination.
He lets Ryoma pull him down onto the bed, and in a daring move, slides his hands under Ryoma’s shirt, feeling the soft skin. Ryoma whimpers and captures Tezuka’s mouth again, their lips sliding messily together, to fast, to wet, but neither willing to stop.
Until Ryoma jerks his head back. “Tezuka…” he gasps. “Wait…”
Tezuka doesn’t want to wait. He bites Ryoma’s neck, harder than he meant to, and with one hand he plays with the strings on Ryoma’s shorts.
Ryoma cries out and his fingers grip Tezuka’s shoulders tightly as he tries to free himself, and says, “Buchou… ahh… its, your, your…”
Frustrated, Tezuka raises his head, and in that one moment of silence, he clearly hears the front door being opened downstairs.
Seeing Tezuka’s horrified expression, Ryoma grins nervously, and whispers, “I think your parents are home.”
Pairing: Tezuka/Ryoma
Rating: PG-13? Maybe R, but I doubt it.
Summary: Tezuka should never have opened the door. Now he cant close it, no matter how hard he tries.
Warnings: Cross-dressing, kissing, possible Tezuka being OC.
Authors notes: A long time ago, nekokatechan said she would like to see someone write a fic with Tezuka in a maid outfit and not be OC. I finally finished mine! I tried my best to write him being in character, but it was very hard. I mean, 'Tezuka' and 'maid outfit' just dont go together. But I tried my best! So I hope you like it!
It had started out as any other day. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Tezuka was on his way to Echizen’s house to play tennis. Not anything special or anything. Really the only reason that Tezuka was going was because he had nothing else to do. Also, Echizen had invited him. Sort of. It had been earlier in the week when Echizen had first started making some not so subtle hints that he happened to be free that weekend, and that he really wanted to play buchou again. Tezuka had, of course, ignored him, and assigned everyone to run 20 laps. There had been a lot of grumbling, and Echizen had shot him an annoyed look, but Tezuka had paid no attention, and promptly forgotten about it.
Until today, when Tezuka found himself bored, alone, and wanting to play tennis. And since Echizen HAD invited him (even if it was in a round about way), he saw no problem going over without calling first. He didn’t know his telephone number anyways.
Echizen’s house isn’t very far from his, only a thirty minute walk. It was a nice day, and Tezuka strolls along, thinking of nothing more than if he would be able to win today, and how he could teach Echizen more about being the pillar of Seigaku. He had only been to Echizen’s home a few times before, and never to play tennis, so even though Tezuka wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, he was actually looking forward to it. And he hadn’t played Echizen in quite a while; it would be interesting to see how much stronger he was compared to their last match.
His tennis bag was a comfortable weight on his shoulder, and the sun was warm, and Tezuka found himself almost smiling as Echizen’s house came into view. It was looking to be a good day.
He knocks on the door, and it is opened by a young woman, who blushes when he asks for Echizen, and waves him inside, saying, “Ryoma-kun is upstairs.”
Tezuka nods in thanks and starts to climb the stairs. He could hear loud music coming from above him, and he could only assume that it was Echizen playing it. He stopped in front of the room, and knocked on the door. There was no answer, but Tezuka was hardly surprised. How anyone could hear anything over the loud blare was beyond him. He knocked again, louder this time, but still the door remained closed. Shaking his head, Tezuka pushed open the door.
It was a move that he deeply regretted. Looking back, he should have just walked away.
He pushes open the door and steps inside. “Echizen,” he starts to say, but then stops. And stares. Ryoma is standing at his dresser, looking into a mirror, delicately applying dark red lipstick to his open mouth. He is wearing a black dress that came to his knees, and stockings, and even high heeled shoes. His eyes, which widen rapidly when he looks up and sees Tezuka reflected in the mirror, are heavily outlined in dark eyeliner, and his cheeks, which are lightly dusted with pink, flush a dark red colour as he spins around, gaping wordlessly at his captain.
There is silence for a moment, then…
“I hope that this doesn’t affect your tennis.”
Echizen, if possible, blushes even harder. “B-buchou!” he gasps. “What… what are you doing here?”
Tezuka is finding it very hard not to look at Echizen. “You wanted to play tennis with me,” he says, wishing that he had just stayed home. “I didn’t know you had… other plans…”
Echizen’s eyes widen. “It’s not what you think!” he says hastily. “I don’t normally do this! This was the first time! It was… it was Fuji-sempai’s idea!”
Tezuka thinks that Echizen’s make up is to expertly applied for it to have been the first time, but he doesn’t say it out loud. “You wanted to play tennis…” he mutters.
“B-but…” Echizen stammers. “You… you never said yes! I thought you didn’t want to!”
Tezuka frowns at Echizen’s feet. Really, he shouldn’t be wearing those shoes. Echizen might trip and break something. Though, maybe he is wearing them because they make him taller, Tezuka muses. The certainly make his legs look longer.
“Buchou?” Echizen asks. Tezuka has never heard him sounding so vulnerable before. And he has no idea what he should say.
The music had ended, and all that was left in its place was a very tense silence. Finally Echizen mutters, “Shut the door.”
Tezuka blinks, his eyes unwilling drawn back to Echizen’s dress clad form. “What?” he asks.
“I said shut the door!” Echizen hisses. “Do you want my family to come up here and see me like this?”
“They don’t know?” asks Tezuka stupidly.
Echizen flushes. “Of course not! Besides, it was the first time. And only a one time thing!” he adds quickly.
Tezuka nods absently, and closes the door, and then immediately wishes he had placed himself on the other side before doing so. But… this is a matter that has to be dealt with, so he sighs and turns around. “So…” he say, not sure how he was planning on finishing.
Echizen crosses his arms. “So what?” he practically snarls.
Tezuka frowns. And tries to think of what to say.
For some reason he can’t stop staring at Echizen’s lips.
[B R E A K]
When Tezuka leaves Echizen’s house half and hour later, he cant really say that anything was accomplished. For the most part they had just stood staring at each other in silence, Echizen’s eyes wandering around the room, the blush a permanent fixture on his face, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. Tezuka had tried to talk about it, going as far as to say that he would be happy to listen if Echizen was having any problems, like school, or even girl trouble, but judging by Echizen’s horrified look and his choked, “No!” that it wasn’t really the right thing to say. Again.
Finally, when Tezuka sensed that he was doing more damage than good by being there (if the way Echizen’s eye had began to twitch, and the way he now refused to look anywhere near Tezuka was any indication), he excused himself, and left. Echizen staring silently at the wall gave no indication that he had heard.
Needless to say, they didn’t play any tennis that day.
But now Tezuka’s problem isn’t that one of his team members is a cross dresser. The problem is that Tezuka can’t seem to stop thinking about it. It is all burned into his memory like a picture, the way the dress clung to Echizen’s slender hips, the way the shoes made his legs seem longer. The way his eyes seemed larger, and the way his mouth had been almost trembling near the end.
He can’t help but wonder how Echizen feels when he is dressed like that. What is the attraction in it? Personally Tezuka can’t see the attraction in it. But if Echizen likes it…
Tezuka shakes his head and bites his lip. Unwillingly, his eyes are drawn to the mirror on his door, and before he can stop himself, he wonders what he would look like with lipstick.
He jumps when his mother calls him for dinner, and he has to convince himself that he isn’t blushing.
As they are eating, Tezuka’s mother tells him all about her dress for the party she and his father are going to in a few nights.
“It’s a costume party!” She says excitedly. “And you will never guess what I am going to be!”
Tezuka shrugs his shoulders, taking a sip of water.
“I was downtown this afternoon, and I saw in the window of this cute little shop, the most perfect costume!”
Tezuka nods, but doesn’t look up until he hears his mother say, “And I tried to get your father to buy a butler costume to go with it, but he refused, of course.”
Tezuka’s father interrupts, saying, “of course I refused. A maid and a butler? A rich business man would be much more suited to go with it.”
Tezuka turns to his mother and says, “You are being a maid?”
She nods, looking faintly annoyed. “Weren’t you listening to me? I told you, I bought the cutest little French maid costume! I’ll show you after supper if you like.”
Tezuka nods again, but he can’t speak, because suddenly, horribly, he is thinking of what Echizen would look like dressed as a French maid.
[Break]
The next night Tezuka’s parents are out, and he is alone in the house, and although he knows it is a bad idea, Tezuka is in his room, staring at his mother’s costume that he is holding in his hands. Tezuka knows it is a bad idea, but he has do it, because he can’t stop thinking about it. And last night he dreamed of Echizen.
It had started out innocently enough. They had been playing tennis together, and the rest of the team was watching and cheering, and Tezuka had just been concentrating on returning the ball across the net, listening to the satisfying thump when he hit it. But then he blinked, and suddenly the tennis courts had disappeared, and Echizen was standing right in front of him, instead of across the court, like Tezuka was pretty sure he should be. And he was wearing the dress. Tezuka is sure that no where in his dreams should Echizen be wearing a dress, and… licking his lips like that. Echizen licks his lips, and Tezuka follows the movement, wondering how Echizen’s mouth can still be so red. It doesn’t seem possible, because wouldn’t the lipstick wear off? But then it doesn’t matter, because Tezuka can’t think anymore, not with Echizen suddenly pressed so tightly up against him, his small hands clutching Tezuka’s arms. Tezuka’s breath is coming shorter and faster, and Echizen’s face is too close. His hands are running teasingly up and down Tezuka’s back now, and as their lips finally brush, he can hear Echizen whisper, “mada mada dane… buchou.”
Tezuka had woken up sweaty, hard, and not at all pleased.
And now, as he holds up the lacy black and white thing, he wonders if it is really worth all the trouble. Or if he will even fit into it. Tezuka’s mother isn’t small, but he is definitely bigger than her. Slowly, so slowly that at this rate it will take all night, Tezuka removes his clothes, and picks up the dress again. Hardly able to believe he is about to do this, he pauses just once more to listen and make sure he really is alone, before stepping into the dress and sliding it up his legs.
It is a tight fit, but after a bit of tugging and pulling, the dress settles comfortably onto his hips, and he reaches around to try and zip up the back. It goes up about half way before he has to tug and pull, and finally, with a sharp yank, it slides the rest of the way up. Tezuka is almost afraid to look in the mirror, but in the end, his eyes are drawn to it, just like they were drawn to Echizen’s lips.
At first Tezuka thinks he looks absolutely ridiculous, and his immediate thought is to get that thing off him as fast as possible. He restrains himself, though, and forces himself to keep staring into the mirror. After about ten minutes, Tezuka is finally ready to admit, that maybe, maybe, he doesn’t look that bad. Not as good as Echizen, he muses, smoothing out the material, but not as horrible as, say Kaidoh, would look. And although the dress pulls really tightly across the chest, it fans out nicely when it gets to his legs, settling about mid thigh. It would be very impractical to play tennis in, though, and now Tezuka is experiencing it for himself, he cant see how the girls tennis team manages with those short skirts. The short sleeves cut into his arms, and he didn’t even bother with stockings or shoes, but all in all, Tezuka doesn’t think it is that bad. Maybe he would look better with make up, though. After all, that’s what Echizen did.
He takes a step towards his desk, and the dress swishes alarmingly around his legs. Tezuka can’t help but feel very exposed. It is a feeling entirely different than wearing shorts, and he knows which he prefers.
At his desk is eye shadow, eyeliner, blush, and lipstick (all taken from his mother that evening). Eyeing them, Tezuka decides to start with the eyeliner. It looks the simplest to apply.
It turns out, it isn’t. After almost poking himself in the eye three times, there are thick dark lines under his eyes, and Tezuka thinks he looks like a slut, rather than making his eyes wide and innocent, like Echizen. But he sighs and continues anyways. The eye shadow he chooses to use is brown, almost skin coloured, because Tezuka really can’t see how any of the other bright colours would look good. In the end though, he ends up putting on a little blue.
When Tezuka pauses to set down the brush, he examines himself closely in the mirror, and he can’t help but feel just a little bit proud that he looks as good as he does. He is willing to bet that Atobe wouldn’t look nearly as good as he does in a dress. Pleased by that, Tezuka reaches over and picks up the lipstick. Carefully he uncaps it, and runs the dark red colour over his bottom lip. So intent on his work, Tezuka fails to notice a knock on the door. He does notice, however, when he hears Echizen’s voice saying, “Buchou? Are you here? I knocked, but there was no answer, and there was a light on in your room, and the door was unlocked…”
Tezuka also notices when the door to his room is pushed open, but he cant do anything but stand there and stare hopelessly, still clutching the lipstick in his hand, as Echizen steps into his room. Looks up and sees him. And freezes.
The irony is not lost on Tezuka.
For a moment Echizen can’t speak. His eyes are wide, and he clears his throat, staring at Tezuka unblinkingly. Then suddenly he cocks his head to the side and takes in Tezuka standing stock still, dressed in a maid outfit. He smirks. “Che. I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Tezuka can feel his face turning red, and he crosses his arms over his chest self-consciously. He wants to tell Echizen to go run a hundred laps, but he knows it would be useless. Instead, he glares, and tries to look as threatening as possible. “Echizen,” he says through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here?”
It might be Tezuka’s imagination, but there is a faint blush appearing on Echizen’s cheeks. “I wanted to apologise to you, Buchou,” he says, pulling down his cap so Tezuka can no longer see his eyes. “You know… because you walked in on me and everything. I don’t feel like I explained myself properly,” he pauses, and Tezuka can feel Echizen’s smirk, even is he can’t see it. “Though maybe now I don’t have to,” Echizen finishes, his voice a murmur.
Tezuka’s glare is entirely useless, because Echizen still isn’t looking at him. He wants to protest. He wants to tell Echizen that it is a one time thing to try and get himself back to normal, and that it is not a regular occurrence, and really it is all Echizen’s fault in the first place. But he manages to stop himself before his mouth opens, because he can already see Echizen’s smirk, and hear his disbelieving voice saying, Really, Buchou? And then of course, the question of why it is Echizen’s fault would come up, and really, Tezuka doesn’t want to have to answer that.
What comes out of his mouth instead is, “don’t tell Fuji.” Or Inui. Or Oishi. Or anyone on the tennis team.
Echizen snorts. “Don’t worry, Buchou,” he says. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Who would believe me?”
With a sigh, Tezuka lets out a breath. Then he wonders how he is going to get Echizen out of his room, so he can get out of that horrible costume, and forget this whole thing ever happened. Before Tezuka can say anything, however, Echizen takes a step forward. The smirk is still on his face, but he is finally meeting Tezuka’s eyes.
Not that it helps, because Tezuka can’t read the emotion he sees in them. He thinks he sees a small smile tugging at Echizen’s lips, but then Tezuka can’t think at all, because Echizen has reached out, and is fingering the hem of his dress.
“A maid?” he asks, his amusement obvious. “Somehow I pictured something more… manly.”
“I dress isn’t supposed to be manly, Echizen,” says Tezuka sternly. “That’s why men don’t wear them. Dresses are supposed to be for woman.”
“Of course, Buchou,” says Echizen. He doesn’t laugh, but the corners of his lips twitch. It is a few moments he can speak again. Finally, when Echizen’s hand has moved up to the lace at Tezuka’s throat, he says softly, “you… look good, Buchou.”
Tezuka raises an eyebrow, and asks, “Excuse me?”
Echizen starts to stammer, his blush spreading rapidly, leading Tezuka to believe that he hadn’t actually meant to say those words out loud.
“I mean,” Echizen says quickly, “you don’t look good, good! But you don’t look as bad as say, Kaidoh, or Inui would wearing a dress!”
Tezuka nods. That is an acceptable excuse, seeing as he had thought the exact same thing. He can’t help but notice that Echizen’s hands haven’t left his throat. His fingers are tugging lightly at Tezuka’s collar, adjusting it slightly. Echizen’s nails brushing casually over Tezuka’s skin send shivers running down his back, and he frowns, and takes a step away.
Echizen’s hands fall to his sides, and he shoves them awkwardly into his pockets. “Your… collar wasn’t really straight,” he says, not looking Tezuka in the eye. When Tezuka doesn’t say anything, Echizen laughs nervously, and grins. “This is weird, isn’t it?” he asks.
Tezuka grunts his affirmation.
“I mean,” he continues, not noticing Tezuka’s eye twitch. “Who would have thought? Not me. I wonder-”
“Echizen,” Tezuka interrupts. “I am going to get changed now. Will you please step outside the room for a moment?”
Echizen just blinks at him for a moment, then, comprehension dawning on his face, he nods, and turns toward the door.
Tezuka watched him feeling relieved, until he reaches his hands around to his back pull down the zipper. “Wait, Echizen,” he calls.
He turns around to fast, Tezuka thinks, a hopeful expression on his face. Hopeful? Tezuka shakes his head, frowning.
“Yeah?” Echizen asks.
“I need help…” Tezuka can feel his face growing hotter. “I need your help… to unzip me.”
Echizen grins, and Tezuka scowls. “Of course Buchou!” he says cheerfully. “After all, I have lots of experience.”
“That is not funny, Echizen,” Tezuka says, annoyed. He is treating it all like a joke, and Tezuka considers just forgetting about it and throwing him out, but the thought of his parents coming home to find him stuck like this, or having to explain to his mother why her costume is ripped, is horrible enough that Tezuka hold his tongue.
So he turns around as Echizen walks back over to him, and soon he feels cold fingers brushing again over his heated skin. “This sure is stuck tight,” Echizen says. “How did you manage pull it up in the first place?”
Tezuka shrugs, and the movement allows the zipper to slid down enough that Echizen is able to force it slowly the rest of the way down.
With a sigh of relief, Tezuka is finally able to breath fully again. He turns around to thank Echizen, only to find the other boy staring at him. He is leaning closer, too close, his body a scant inch from Tezuka’s, and he knows what is going to happen a moment before Echizen closes the final distance and presses their lips gently together.
It is awkward, uncomfortable, and messy, and Tezuka doesn’t know why he hasn’t pulled away. Why he lets Echizen run his fingers through his hair, and pull his head down to a more comfortable angle. The dress is slipping off his shoulders and down his arms, making movement limited, until Echizen’s hands ran down his arms, taking the sleeves with them, pushing them off Tezuka’s hands, and leaving him bare from the waist up.
Tezuka shivers, even though he isn’t cold, but he has no time to think about it, because Echizen (no, Ryoma?) is slowly stepping backwards, and is tugging Tezuka with him. When his knees hit the edge of Tezuka’s bed, Ryoma falls back onto the mattress, leaving Tezuka standing, staring down at him. Ryoma’s eyes are glazed, his breath coming in short little gasps, and his lips and around his mouth are smeared with red from Tezuka’s lipstick.
And when he breathes, “Buchou,” it suddenly doesn’t matter to Tezuka that he is still half dressed in the maid outfit. He doesn’t think of how ridiculous he must look. He is past the point of caring, because he has never felt like this before. It is like his dream, except better, because Ryoma is actually here, flushed, panting, and reaching out for him, and not just in his imagination.
He lets Ryoma pull him down onto the bed, and in a daring move, slides his hands under Ryoma’s shirt, feeling the soft skin. Ryoma whimpers and captures Tezuka’s mouth again, their lips sliding messily together, to fast, to wet, but neither willing to stop.
Until Ryoma jerks his head back. “Tezuka…” he gasps. “Wait…”
Tezuka doesn’t want to wait. He bites Ryoma’s neck, harder than he meant to, and with one hand he plays with the strings on Ryoma’s shorts.
Ryoma cries out and his fingers grip Tezuka’s shoulders tightly as he tries to free himself, and says, “Buchou… ahh… its, your, your…”
Frustrated, Tezuka raises his head, and in that one moment of silence, he clearly hears the front door being opened downstairs.
Seeing Tezuka’s horrified expression, Ryoma grins nervously, and whispers, “I think your parents are home.”