Fic: Plans (for kat8cha)
Author/Artist: jazzy_peaches
For: kat8cha
Title: Plans
Characters: Fuji/Tezuka/Atobe
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Its all Konomi’s fault.
Warnings: Sneakiness. Smirking.
Summary: Fuji thought it was time they took their rivalry to a different place. One where he could play, too.
Notes: Dear kat8cha, I hope you enjoy this! If you don’t, I’ll send you a basket of muffins. I make muffins better than I write. Thanks and ♥ x a bazillion go to anjenue for beta-ing and talking me down off the ledge from time to time. XD
Fuji sat on the bleachers overlooking the court where Atobe and Tezuka were playing, ostensibly going over his symbolic anthropology notes; in reality, he was watching the game quite intently. Had Tezuka been playing anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have bothered, but watching Tezuka play Atobe was absolutely fascinating. They had been playing weekly for about two months now, and Fuji had quickly discovered that if he actually wanted to get any homework done, he was better off skipping the match.
It had taken Fuji the better part of those two months to figure out why exactly these matches kept him so riveted. Although he loved to watch Tezuka play, loved the intensity that surrounded him while he was focused on a match, he found the matches themselves to be rather boring. The opponent might offer some interesting obstacles in the beginning, but Tezuka would ultimately break through them all and confidently take the win.
Not so with Atobe. Although it was true that Tezuka had won many of his matches with Atobe, he hadn’t won them all. They were so well matched that they really should have been mortal enemies, or something of the sort. But they weren’t, and that fascinated Fuji more than anything else. Despite playing tennis as if their lives depended on the win, at the end, after shaking hands, they walked off the court as friends. Fuji was completely mystified by it, and he loved the challenge.
As he watched Atobe stop, plant, and execute a perfect backhand volley to take a point, Fuji mused on the theory he had put together so far.
Atobe and Tezuka forced each other to play tennis with their whole being. Although both players always gave 100% on the court, when they played each other, it was about more than winning or pride. Every well-placed serve, every perfectly arched shot, every hard-earned point was a victory, the thrill building and multiplying as the game went on. The elation that the end brought went beyond simple joy that the blood, sweat, and tears had paid off, or relief that the match was over. No, it went deeper, reaffirming something in his identity- not that he was better than his opponent, but that he was still worthy of playing against this person at all. Fuji had heard once that people can only truly be friends with those they respect, and he thought that Tezuka and Atobe were case in point.
And so, off the court they remained friends while waiting for a chance to prove themselves once again. They continually mutually desired another match, which kept them on even ground.
But Fuji thought it was time they took their rivalry to a different place. One where he could play, too.
~
“Nice game,” Fuji said, as Tezuka and Atobe gathered their racquets and water together. Tezuka nodded in acknowledgement, but Atobe’s gaze fixed on Fuji in a way that gave Fuji a little thrill.
“Since you’re here every week, as well,” said Atobe, “ore-sama would like to favor Tezuka with a break next week and play you, instead.”
Fuji received this type of request every once in awhile, and he normally refused. Tennis wasn’t his preferred method of proving what he was worth- there were more interesting ways. Still, Atobe’s request gave the plan currently forming in his head a perfect opening, and Fuji wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity when he saw one (Tezuka could attest to that).
“I might be persuaded…on the right terms.”
Tezuka looked surprised, while Atobe simply raised an eyebrow and asked, “What would those terms be?”
Fuji allowed a hint of a smirk. “A game of 2-on-1. You and I against Tezuka.”
Atobe nodded appreciatively, considering. Fuji knew he would take the deal- Atobe was never one to pass up a challenge- and that he was simply pausing to keep an upper hand. Fuji thought it was cute that Atobe thought he had one.
“Ore-sama approves,” Atobe finally agreed. To Tezuka, he cryptically added, “Be prepared.”
With a straight face, Tezuka answered, “You’re the one that has to play with Fuji.”
~
Fuji and Tezuka had walked about halfway back to their apartment in companionable silence before Tezuka looked down at him and asked, “What are you planning?”
They had been together for too long for Fuji to even pretend he didn’t know what Tezuka was talking about. Instead, he glanced up a Tezuka with a knowing grin and said, “You and Atobe have so much passion when you’re on the court. Certainly makes you wonder what your sex life would be like.”
More surprised than actually scandalized -Fuji could see he had been a good influence- Tezuka raised his eyebrows and asked, “That’s what you’re planning?”
Fuji turned to face Tezuka and stepped in front of him. He knew if he presented this as a challenge, Tezuka would agree to it easily. Fuji looked Tezuka in the eye and said, “ Tell me you’ve never thought about it.”
Tezuka met his gaze steadily for a long moment, and didn’t look away as he slowly nodded.
Fuji grinned and leaned up to kiss Tezuka, breaking the moment. He then turned, fell back into place beside Tezuka, and they started walking again. “I have, too.”
~
One week later, Fuji arrived at the usual court to find Atobe ready and waiting, bouncing a ball on his racquet. As he approached, Atobe leaned jauntily against the fence and asked, “Did Tezuka decide we were too much for him?”
Fuji gave Atobe a smirk and replied, “Oh, no, I’m sure he can handle us. In fact, he wanted to give us a chance to warm up. Alone.”
Atobe nodded with a smirk of his own. “Let’s begin, then,” he said, as he flipped Fuji a ball with his racquet and headed towards the far end of the court.
They did a groundstroke warm-up for a while, in silence, until Fuji got bored and gave Atobe a short shot, forcing him to come up to the net. Fuji advanced as well, and asked, “Want to hit some volleys?” as he got the first one. Atobe nodded as he returned with a nice forehand volley. One more, and then he said, “Your skill obviously hasn’t decreased since you graduated. Why were you unwilling to play me on your own?”
Fuji chuckled. It was always about winning with Atobe and Tezuka. “One-on-one is fine,” he answered, “but sometimes, it's more…interesting…to change how you play, instead of who.” With that, he returned a volley to the far left, just out of Atobe’s reach.
Atobe raised one eyebrow and nodded in understanding as he restarted the volley drill.
“Besides,” Fuji continued, “I enjoy watching you and Tezuka play, and I like the idea of being right here in the middle of things with you two.”
Fuji knew that Atobe had caught on, then, because he looked Fuji in the eye across the net and asked, “And Tezuka doesn’t mind sharing you like that?”
“With you, I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” Fuji answered, smiling. “In fact,” he added slyly, “I believe he called it ‘quite an opportunity’.”
It was Atobe’s return, but instead of hitting it back, as soon as the ball hit the racquet, he flipped it horizontal and began bouncing the ball on the strings again. He stood elegantly with his hand on his hip, eyes locked with Fuji’s. “The pleasure, “ he replied, “is all mine.”
~
Not long after, Tezuka arrived, and the match began.
Fuji, for his part, had trouble focusing on the game at first. Both Tezuka and Atobe were absolutely captivating to watch individually: Atobe was all cat-like power and grace, every swing sleek and polished. He made no awkward angles or jumpy movements, his body and its motion honed to perfection. Tezuka, on the other hand, seemed made of energy and intensity. Although his game was carefully measured, every swing was backed with confidence and strength, every shot played as though it might be his last.
What was even more fascinating, Fuji thought, was watching them interact. He loved the way Tezuka forced Atobe to sacrifice a little grace for a little more power, and how Atobe forced a sort of desperation on Tezuka, making his patience with waiting for the right time to make a play grow short.
It didn’t take long for both players to notice Fuji’s lack of presence in the game, and even less time for them to deliberately pull him into it. Tezuka needed only to make eye contact with Atobe and shoot a knowing glance at Fuji, which Atobe followed, and a plan was set in motion. Tezuka intentionally returned the next shot with a short one right down the line on Atobe’s side of the court. Atobe, with his normally good reflexes, should have been able to reach it easily, but he purposely waited a moment too long, so that he was really reaching for the ball and could only lob it up to Tezuka. Tezuka, of course, executed a textbook overhead smash, causing Fuji to blink and quickly use his Higuma Otoshi.
“Welcome to the game,” said Tezuka, lips turned up in what could have been a tiny smirk.
After that, Fuji was well and truly invested in the game, and the entire dynamic changed. Both Atobe and Tezuka had solid game strategies they were accustomed to using. Fuji, though he relied on his counters, had never really allowed himself to get tied down in the same way, and played more spontaneously. He wove in and out between Tezuka and Atobe, appearing where they wouldn’t expect him.
The mix kept all the players on their toes, challenged in a way they hadn’t been in a long time. It was thrilling, thought Fuji. He could see it on their faces and he knew it was reflected in his own- the exhilaration of taking the game that was so deeply a part of them to a whole new place.
The combined force of Atobe and Fuji eventually was too much for Tezuka, and he lost the set 7-6. As they shook hands across the net, however, Fuji could tell he didn’t mind. He didn’t even object when Fuji tugged him across the net for a quick kiss. So far, Fuji thought, things were going swimmingly.
When Tezuka and Atobe shook hands, Tezuka leaned in close to Atobe, and Fuji’s heart leaped into his throat as he actually thought that things were going to start right here, out on the court. However, Tezuka simply murmured something that made Atobe’s lips quirk up in amusement, before they pulled apart and Atobe said airily, as if nothing had happened, “To the showers then, shall we?”
~
Inside, Tezuka and Atobe stripped out of their shirts in front of their lockers on one wall while Fuji stood surreptitiously watching them from next to his locker on the opposite wall. Atobe began rummaging through his locker, one above Tezuka’s, who was turned in towards Atobe as he pulled off his shoes. Fuji pulled his own shirt over his head and somehow, by the time he had gotten it off, Atobe had gotten Tezuka backed up against the lockers and they were kissing. Fuji swallowed hard, feeling himself begin to get hard just watching them. He could barely breathe as he watched them remove each others’ shorts; he didn’t even notice he had removed his own until he felt his hand around his cock, stroking as Atobe and Tezuka moaned and rubbed against each other in front of him. As Atobe leaned around to kiss the side of Tezuka’s neck, Tezuka caught Fuji watching and turned to whisper something in Atobe’s ear. Atobe grinned, licked his lips, and suddenly was reaching out and pulling Fuji in between himself and Tezuka.
Fuji felt his knees go a little bit weak as he felt Atobe firmly behind him and Tezuka pressed up in front of him, his fingers threaded through Fuji’s hair and his tongue in Fuji’s mouth. Fuji wrapped one hand around Tezuka’s neck to curl his fingers in the hair at the base of his skull, and reached the other down to Tezuka’s cock, focusing on keeping his timing even in an effort to hang on to his own control. Atobe was kissing and sucking at Fuji’s neck, one hand around his cock, and the other Fuji felt one moment later, cold and slick and probing gently inside of him.
Every which way Fuji squirmed, there was pleasure, and after that, all Fuji has memories of are flashes- visual, Tezuka’s face as he comes; audio- Atobe groaning as he thrusts inside of him, flashes of color and white-hot pleasure-
And then, some indefinite time later, Fuji found that everything had faded to a pleasant haze and time had become fluid again. Slowly, the three of them untangled their limbs and bodies, showered, and dressed, all in contented silence. A car horn beeped outside, to which Atobe gave an arrogant toss of his head and straightened his tie.
“That would be mine,” he said, picking up his tennis bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He stepped between Tezuka and Fuji, resting a hand on each of their shoulders, and Fuji could feel Atobe’s fingers slip beneath his collar to rest at the base of his neck. To Tezuka, he said, “As much as I enjoy our matches, I think we should invite this one along more often. He certainly spices up the game, doesn’t he?”
Tezuka slid a smirk in Fuji’s direction and replied, “To say the least.”
With an, “Until next time, gentlemen,” Atobe was gone, but Fuji could still feel the press of those fingers on his neck, and a shiver went down his spine as Tezuka moved behind him and kissed that very spot.
If playing tennis had always been like this, Fuji decided, he would have come around to Tezuka’s view long ago.
For: kat8cha
Title: Plans
Characters: Fuji/Tezuka/Atobe
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Its all Konomi’s fault.
Warnings: Sneakiness. Smirking.
Summary: Fuji thought it was time they took their rivalry to a different place. One where he could play, too.
Notes: Dear kat8cha, I hope you enjoy this! If you don’t, I’ll send you a basket of muffins. I make muffins better than I write. Thanks and ♥ x a bazillion go to anjenue for beta-ing and talking me down off the ledge from time to time. XD
Fuji sat on the bleachers overlooking the court where Atobe and Tezuka were playing, ostensibly going over his symbolic anthropology notes; in reality, he was watching the game quite intently. Had Tezuka been playing anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have bothered, but watching Tezuka play Atobe was absolutely fascinating. They had been playing weekly for about two months now, and Fuji had quickly discovered that if he actually wanted to get any homework done, he was better off skipping the match.
It had taken Fuji the better part of those two months to figure out why exactly these matches kept him so riveted. Although he loved to watch Tezuka play, loved the intensity that surrounded him while he was focused on a match, he found the matches themselves to be rather boring. The opponent might offer some interesting obstacles in the beginning, but Tezuka would ultimately break through them all and confidently take the win.
Not so with Atobe. Although it was true that Tezuka had won many of his matches with Atobe, he hadn’t won them all. They were so well matched that they really should have been mortal enemies, or something of the sort. But they weren’t, and that fascinated Fuji more than anything else. Despite playing tennis as if their lives depended on the win, at the end, after shaking hands, they walked off the court as friends. Fuji was completely mystified by it, and he loved the challenge.
As he watched Atobe stop, plant, and execute a perfect backhand volley to take a point, Fuji mused on the theory he had put together so far.
Atobe and Tezuka forced each other to play tennis with their whole being. Although both players always gave 100% on the court, when they played each other, it was about more than winning or pride. Every well-placed serve, every perfectly arched shot, every hard-earned point was a victory, the thrill building and multiplying as the game went on. The elation that the end brought went beyond simple joy that the blood, sweat, and tears had paid off, or relief that the match was over. No, it went deeper, reaffirming something in his identity- not that he was better than his opponent, but that he was still worthy of playing against this person at all. Fuji had heard once that people can only truly be friends with those they respect, and he thought that Tezuka and Atobe were case in point.
And so, off the court they remained friends while waiting for a chance to prove themselves once again. They continually mutually desired another match, which kept them on even ground.
But Fuji thought it was time they took their rivalry to a different place. One where he could play, too.
~
“Nice game,” Fuji said, as Tezuka and Atobe gathered their racquets and water together. Tezuka nodded in acknowledgement, but Atobe’s gaze fixed on Fuji in a way that gave Fuji a little thrill.
“Since you’re here every week, as well,” said Atobe, “ore-sama would like to favor Tezuka with a break next week and play you, instead.”
Fuji received this type of request every once in awhile, and he normally refused. Tennis wasn’t his preferred method of proving what he was worth- there were more interesting ways. Still, Atobe’s request gave the plan currently forming in his head a perfect opening, and Fuji wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity when he saw one (Tezuka could attest to that).
“I might be persuaded…on the right terms.”
Tezuka looked surprised, while Atobe simply raised an eyebrow and asked, “What would those terms be?”
Fuji allowed a hint of a smirk. “A game of 2-on-1. You and I against Tezuka.”
Atobe nodded appreciatively, considering. Fuji knew he would take the deal- Atobe was never one to pass up a challenge- and that he was simply pausing to keep an upper hand. Fuji thought it was cute that Atobe thought he had one.
“Ore-sama approves,” Atobe finally agreed. To Tezuka, he cryptically added, “Be prepared.”
With a straight face, Tezuka answered, “You’re the one that has to play with Fuji.”
~
Fuji and Tezuka had walked about halfway back to their apartment in companionable silence before Tezuka looked down at him and asked, “What are you planning?”
They had been together for too long for Fuji to even pretend he didn’t know what Tezuka was talking about. Instead, he glanced up a Tezuka with a knowing grin and said, “You and Atobe have so much passion when you’re on the court. Certainly makes you wonder what your sex life would be like.”
More surprised than actually scandalized -Fuji could see he had been a good influence- Tezuka raised his eyebrows and asked, “That’s what you’re planning?”
Fuji turned to face Tezuka and stepped in front of him. He knew if he presented this as a challenge, Tezuka would agree to it easily. Fuji looked Tezuka in the eye and said, “ Tell me you’ve never thought about it.”
Tezuka met his gaze steadily for a long moment, and didn’t look away as he slowly nodded.
Fuji grinned and leaned up to kiss Tezuka, breaking the moment. He then turned, fell back into place beside Tezuka, and they started walking again. “I have, too.”
~
One week later, Fuji arrived at the usual court to find Atobe ready and waiting, bouncing a ball on his racquet. As he approached, Atobe leaned jauntily against the fence and asked, “Did Tezuka decide we were too much for him?”
Fuji gave Atobe a smirk and replied, “Oh, no, I’m sure he can handle us. In fact, he wanted to give us a chance to warm up. Alone.”
Atobe nodded with a smirk of his own. “Let’s begin, then,” he said, as he flipped Fuji a ball with his racquet and headed towards the far end of the court.
They did a groundstroke warm-up for a while, in silence, until Fuji got bored and gave Atobe a short shot, forcing him to come up to the net. Fuji advanced as well, and asked, “Want to hit some volleys?” as he got the first one. Atobe nodded as he returned with a nice forehand volley. One more, and then he said, “Your skill obviously hasn’t decreased since you graduated. Why were you unwilling to play me on your own?”
Fuji chuckled. It was always about winning with Atobe and Tezuka. “One-on-one is fine,” he answered, “but sometimes, it's more…interesting…to change how you play, instead of who.” With that, he returned a volley to the far left, just out of Atobe’s reach.
Atobe raised one eyebrow and nodded in understanding as he restarted the volley drill.
“Besides,” Fuji continued, “I enjoy watching you and Tezuka play, and I like the idea of being right here in the middle of things with you two.”
Fuji knew that Atobe had caught on, then, because he looked Fuji in the eye across the net and asked, “And Tezuka doesn’t mind sharing you like that?”
“With you, I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” Fuji answered, smiling. “In fact,” he added slyly, “I believe he called it ‘quite an opportunity’.”
It was Atobe’s return, but instead of hitting it back, as soon as the ball hit the racquet, he flipped it horizontal and began bouncing the ball on the strings again. He stood elegantly with his hand on his hip, eyes locked with Fuji’s. “The pleasure, “ he replied, “is all mine.”
~
Not long after, Tezuka arrived, and the match began.
Fuji, for his part, had trouble focusing on the game at first. Both Tezuka and Atobe were absolutely captivating to watch individually: Atobe was all cat-like power and grace, every swing sleek and polished. He made no awkward angles or jumpy movements, his body and its motion honed to perfection. Tezuka, on the other hand, seemed made of energy and intensity. Although his game was carefully measured, every swing was backed with confidence and strength, every shot played as though it might be his last.
What was even more fascinating, Fuji thought, was watching them interact. He loved the way Tezuka forced Atobe to sacrifice a little grace for a little more power, and how Atobe forced a sort of desperation on Tezuka, making his patience with waiting for the right time to make a play grow short.
It didn’t take long for both players to notice Fuji’s lack of presence in the game, and even less time for them to deliberately pull him into it. Tezuka needed only to make eye contact with Atobe and shoot a knowing glance at Fuji, which Atobe followed, and a plan was set in motion. Tezuka intentionally returned the next shot with a short one right down the line on Atobe’s side of the court. Atobe, with his normally good reflexes, should have been able to reach it easily, but he purposely waited a moment too long, so that he was really reaching for the ball and could only lob it up to Tezuka. Tezuka, of course, executed a textbook overhead smash, causing Fuji to blink and quickly use his Higuma Otoshi.
“Welcome to the game,” said Tezuka, lips turned up in what could have been a tiny smirk.
After that, Fuji was well and truly invested in the game, and the entire dynamic changed. Both Atobe and Tezuka had solid game strategies they were accustomed to using. Fuji, though he relied on his counters, had never really allowed himself to get tied down in the same way, and played more spontaneously. He wove in and out between Tezuka and Atobe, appearing where they wouldn’t expect him.
The mix kept all the players on their toes, challenged in a way they hadn’t been in a long time. It was thrilling, thought Fuji. He could see it on their faces and he knew it was reflected in his own- the exhilaration of taking the game that was so deeply a part of them to a whole new place.
The combined force of Atobe and Fuji eventually was too much for Tezuka, and he lost the set 7-6. As they shook hands across the net, however, Fuji could tell he didn’t mind. He didn’t even object when Fuji tugged him across the net for a quick kiss. So far, Fuji thought, things were going swimmingly.
When Tezuka and Atobe shook hands, Tezuka leaned in close to Atobe, and Fuji’s heart leaped into his throat as he actually thought that things were going to start right here, out on the court. However, Tezuka simply murmured something that made Atobe’s lips quirk up in amusement, before they pulled apart and Atobe said airily, as if nothing had happened, “To the showers then, shall we?”
~
Inside, Tezuka and Atobe stripped out of their shirts in front of their lockers on one wall while Fuji stood surreptitiously watching them from next to his locker on the opposite wall. Atobe began rummaging through his locker, one above Tezuka’s, who was turned in towards Atobe as he pulled off his shoes. Fuji pulled his own shirt over his head and somehow, by the time he had gotten it off, Atobe had gotten Tezuka backed up against the lockers and they were kissing. Fuji swallowed hard, feeling himself begin to get hard just watching them. He could barely breathe as he watched them remove each others’ shorts; he didn’t even notice he had removed his own until he felt his hand around his cock, stroking as Atobe and Tezuka moaned and rubbed against each other in front of him. As Atobe leaned around to kiss the side of Tezuka’s neck, Tezuka caught Fuji watching and turned to whisper something in Atobe’s ear. Atobe grinned, licked his lips, and suddenly was reaching out and pulling Fuji in between himself and Tezuka.
Fuji felt his knees go a little bit weak as he felt Atobe firmly behind him and Tezuka pressed up in front of him, his fingers threaded through Fuji’s hair and his tongue in Fuji’s mouth. Fuji wrapped one hand around Tezuka’s neck to curl his fingers in the hair at the base of his skull, and reached the other down to Tezuka’s cock, focusing on keeping his timing even in an effort to hang on to his own control. Atobe was kissing and sucking at Fuji’s neck, one hand around his cock, and the other Fuji felt one moment later, cold and slick and probing gently inside of him.
Every which way Fuji squirmed, there was pleasure, and after that, all Fuji has memories of are flashes- visual, Tezuka’s face as he comes; audio- Atobe groaning as he thrusts inside of him, flashes of color and white-hot pleasure-
And then, some indefinite time later, Fuji found that everything had faded to a pleasant haze and time had become fluid again. Slowly, the three of them untangled their limbs and bodies, showered, and dressed, all in contented silence. A car horn beeped outside, to which Atobe gave an arrogant toss of his head and straightened his tie.
“That would be mine,” he said, picking up his tennis bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He stepped between Tezuka and Fuji, resting a hand on each of their shoulders, and Fuji could feel Atobe’s fingers slip beneath his collar to rest at the base of his neck. To Tezuka, he said, “As much as I enjoy our matches, I think we should invite this one along more often. He certainly spices up the game, doesn’t he?”
Tezuka slid a smirk in Fuji’s direction and replied, “To say the least.”
With an, “Until next time, gentlemen,” Atobe was gone, but Fuji could still feel the press of those fingers on his neck, and a shiver went down his spine as Tezuka moved behind him and kissed that very spot.
If playing tennis had always been like this, Fuji decided, he would have come around to Tezuka’s view long ago.