“If I become a hindrance, remove me from the team.” Shuusuke looked over his shoulder with a smile, only to rock back on his heels as Tezuka’s hands closed hard on his shoulders and shook him once.

“No. I will not.” Tezuka’s voice was harder than his hands.

Shuusuke frowned. Tezuka wasn’t normally this demonstrative, no matter how angry he got, nor this blindly stubborn. “Tezuka…”

“I will not take you out. You have what it takes to win, Fuji, and you will use it. You will use it, or you will tell me now that you’re quitting the team.”

Shuusuke’s head came up.

“You will not put this responsibility off onto me, Fuji,” Tezuka said, so low his voice almost disappeared into the sound of the rain. “I say you can play seriously when it’s necessary. If you don’t believe that, then you’re the one who’s going to have to say it.”

“And what makes you think that it’s necessary against my own team?” Shuusuke asked, sharply.

Tezuka’s brows flinched together, but his voice was level when he returned, “What makes you think it isn’t?”

Shuusuke shook his head, helplessly. He couldn’t; he just couldn’t. Not again. “Tezuka, why are you pushing this?”

Tezuka was silent for a long moment before his mouth tightened and he closed the distance between them. Shuusuke stiffened, wondering for one wild second whether Tezuka would actually strike him.

Instead, Tezuka kissed him.

Shuusuke’s thoughts dissolved in a swirl of confusion. This wasn’t… they had only ever kissed once before, and that had been in jest. Shuusuke had flirted, on occasion, certainly, because it was fun to prod at his friend. In his own quiet way, Tezuka had prodded back, when no one else was around. This was not a joke, not when Tezuka’s mouth had opened his and Tezuka’s tongue was inviting him. This was serious. For all his confusion, though, Shuusuke liked the feeling of kissing Tezuka just as much as he had sometimes thought he might, and he leaned into it.

When Tezuka drew back it took a few moments for Shuusuke to find his voice again. “What was that?” he asked, at last.

“An answer to your question,” Tezuka told him, soberly.

Shuusuke tried several different ways of fitting those parts together before he gave up. “What?”

It was hard to tell, behind the speckles of water on Tezuka’s glasses, but Shuusuke thought his eyes turned a little sad.

“Never mind. We should go dry off, Fuji. Come on.”

---

Shuusuke was terrified.

All right, perhaps that was a bit strong, but it had been a very long time since he’d felt this kind of tension. Even longer since he’d had butterflies in his stomach and shaking hands over a tennis match. He spent a moment wishing he’d made time to stop off at a shrine on his way here, and pray for this to go well one more time. He didn’t think he could stand losing twice.

Not the game. He’d been losing games to Tezuka for years, quite cheerfully, at least until Tezuka started getting angry over it. Not the game, but the closeness.

Not again.

He’d been resigned, when his family moved, to losing the friends he’d had. He had never, for one moment, suspected that the move, and the new people he met at his new school, and the way their challenges had drawn his tennis out further than ever, would cost him his brother. The shock had almost killed his game for good. But he’d pulled himself together, and forced himself to trust that Yuuta would find his own way and his own strength.

He’d just been a little more careful, next time.

Care was not, apparently, what Tezuka wanted from him, though.

This was the first match he had played against Tezuka since that alarming one when Tezuka had come back from Kyuushuu. Shuusuke had managed to forget, until Tezuka’s first lethal return in that game had reminded him, what Tezuka had told him before; he didn’t just want Shuusuke to play seriously against other teams. He wanted Shuusuke to play seriously against everyone.

Shuusuke walked onto the court, reminding himself that Tezuka was not Yuuta. Which should be an obvious and intuitive sort of thing, but…

Shuusuke sighed. He could believe his fears or he could trust Yukimura’s judgment. One or the other. Because if Yukimura was right, and Shuusuke continued to refuse to play Tezuka seriously, he would lose Tezuka more surely than he had lost Yuuta for a time. If there was any justice in the world, his two fears should cancel each other out; after all, they could not, logically, both become true.

His stomach clenched in stubborn denial of logic.

Shuusuke closed his eyes and took a deep breath, working his hand around the ball he held. If he was going to play seriously, neither fear had any place here. He could not think of his opponent as his friend and captain. Another breath. And another. He opened his eyes and looked over the net to see Tezuka looking back at him… not like a friend and a captain. The brightness in Tezuka’s eyes, the smooth tension in his stance—that was more the way he had seen Tezuka look at Atobe, at Sanada, at Yukimura. It helped.

Shuusuke set himself. He had to be ready for a return that would demand effort from him, immediately. He had to be ready to give that effort. He searched for the eagerness he had felt only a few times before, for the focus that only wanted to outreach his opponent. He thought it was there, ready for him, if he could just stop thinking and throw everything into the game.

“Everything,” he murmured to himself, tossed the ball up and served. The return left him no time to think, and he felt his body start to relax.

It helped that he had faced Yukimura first. The speed and force of their volleys was not a total shock, and he was almost prepared to plunge into it.

Almost.

He wasn’t sure anything could really prepare a person for this, for the shiver of fire down his nerves that said, yes, he could return that, he could drive this opponent back, he could win this if only he let himself burn.

And he did, one return after another, not just waiting for Tezuka’s form to break, but driving him to show an opening. The game had its own momentum, played like this, its own rhythm; the pace wasn’t in Shuusuke’s hands, nor in Tezuka’s. They drew each other on, faster and faster, until Shuusuke almost thought he shouldn’t feel the surface of the court under his feet anymore. He felt like he was flying, like the fierceness of effort had lifted him up and thrown him forward.

The moment, when he saw the opening for the last shot, when the world crystallized into perfection and he couldn’t possibly have stopped the stroke that smashed the ball home, felt like he was breathing sunlight, hot and beautiful and brilliant.

Tezuka looked at the ball, where it had rolled to the fence, for a long moment before he drew himself up. “Game and match, 7-6,” he said, evenly, and turned back to Shuusuke. “Your match.”

Shuusuke swallowed hard, coming down from the high of the game with a jar. Every anxiety he had shoved aside to play immediately assaulted him again, and he had no idea whether he succeeded in hiding his apprehension as he approached the net. He offered his hand silently, afraid to say anything at all.

A faint smile curved Tezuka’s lips. “Good game,” he said, clasping Shuusuke’s hand firmly. Shuusuke searched his eyes; there was a light in them, bright and dancing, to match the pleasure behind that smile. Shuusuke’s knees wobbled just a bit with relief. It was all right. Tezuka didn’t resent losing to him. He really didn’t, and it was really all right, even if his expression did bear a slightly unnerving resemblance to some of Echizen’s…

Shuusuke cut off his own mental babbling with an effort, and fetched in a deep breath. He smiled at his friend. “You too.”

The wobble in his voice betrayed every effort to control the one in his legs, and Shuusuke was lightheaded enough that this was terribly amusing. He didn’t manage to choke back the laugh, either, and suddenly he was shivering and couldn’t stop.

“Fuji.” Tezuka’s hands on his shoulders steadied him a bit, and Shuusuke leaned on him, trying to get control of himself.

“I’m fine,” he assured his friend, aware that the undertone of giggles probably didn’t make that very convincing. “I’m all right.”

“I know you are.” Tezuka didn’t go.

Shuusuke took a few deep breaths and managed to convince his legs to support him again. “Did you expect this?” he asked, ruefully. He was almost positive Yukimura had spoken to Tezuka on the subject.

Tezuka raised a brow. “I expected a good game, if you ever chose to play me seriously.”

Shuusuke’s mouth quirked. There were times it was hard to tell whether Tezuka was answering his question or not. That was fine, though, it reminded him of something else. “You know, the last time we had this discussion, on this court, you kissed me,” he noted.

Tezuka’s eyes darkened a little. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That had no place in our discussion; I certainly shouldn’t have done it because I was angry. I wanted… to remind you there are things that require passion.”

Shuusuke decided lightheadedness was a good thing; it let him act instead of watch and think and wait. He stepped closer, nudging the bottom of the net out of his way. “Would you like to try again?” he asked, lightly.

Both brows went up, this time. Shuusuke smiled and put a hand at the back of Tezuka’s neck, urging him down. There was a certain amount of resistance, and Shuusuke expected Tezuka to be hesitant.

He wasn’t.

He was slow and sure, and his arms, around Shuusuke’s waist, were gentle. He kissed softly, as though he wanted to soothe the anxiety Shuusuke had refused to voice. Shuusuke’s breath caught. Yes, Tezuka had seen it.

The softness was almost shocking, but a welcome shock. Shuusuke leaned into Tezuka, and a small sound found its way up his throat. After the burning flight of the game, and the stunning drop when it ended, he very much wanted something to ground him. This was not familiar. Neither of them had ever acted to see if there was anything beyond the teasing. But it was unmistakably Tezuka he was kissing, and that was familiar enough.

Though the setting could use a little adjustment.

Shuusuke drew back with an annoyed noise. “I want to get this net out of the way,” he said, distinctly.

Tezuka’s hands found his hips, stopping him. “Fuji, an all out game takes everyone like this, to one degree or another. You should wait until you can be sure.”

Fuji burst out laughing, and not, this time, with hysteria. “Tezuka,” he chuckled, “for a perceptive man you can be so dense sometimes.” This received a rather cool look in response, and Shuusuke shook his head. Trust Tezuka to think first of the game and second of the fact that they had spent over a year dancing around this moment. It wasn’t as though Shuusuke hadn’t had time to think things over; he certainly hoped Tezuka had, too. “I am sure,” he said, firmly.

Tezuka stilled. “Really?”

Shuusuke’s lips curled up. “Exceedingly,” he confirmed, and closed a hand in Tezuka’s shirt to drag him down for another kiss.

This time, Tezuka met him a good deal faster. His arms locked around Shuusuke hard enough to rock Shuusuke up on the balls of his feet. Ah, good; he wasn’t the only one who’d been considering it. This kiss was fierce and hungry, and it wasn’t only Shuusuke’s groan that echoed through it.

At least until the net intruded again. Shuusuke winced, and growled, “Definitely get the net out of the way.”

They both pulled back, and stared at each other, silent calculation running back and forth.

“The showers?” Tezuka suggested, at last, and Shuusuke relaxed. He’d been a little afraid Tezuka would insist that acting on this would be disruptive to the team. Shuusuke didn’t doubt for a single second that the good of the team would trump both friendship and lust, for his captain. The fingers drawing circles at the small of his back, however, promised otherwise.

“Wonderful idea,” he agreed. And it was. It was a Sunday, no one else was around, and Tezuka, thanks to his several official positions, had the keys to just about every room in the school building. Shuusuke was hard pressed not to laugh as they strolled casually toward the changing rooms, not touching. What a delightfully irrational day he was having.

He had not entirely expected Tezuka to help him undress… if help was what it could be called. He supposed he should have, though. Tezuka never did anything half-heartedly, once he made up his mind. He leaned back against Tezuka, purring as Tezuka’s palms slid over the hollows of his hipbones, pushing his waistband ahead of them, and reflected on the benefits of this tendency.

One of them was a marked decrease in Tezuka’s normal reserve. When Shuusuke pressed against him, under the water, Tezuka welcomed him with no sign of hesitation or stiffness. Well, Shuusuke amended to himself, with a tiny grin, none aside from what there should be. He shifted a little, rubbing his hip against Tezuka, and savored Tezuka’s quick breath and the fingers that dug into his waist. Tezuka definitely wanted him; it was nice to be sure. He leaned up to lick water off Tezuka’s lips, and sighed as Tezuka’s mouth closed over his.

To be sure, it was difficult to keep track of the soap while kissing someone, but they both had good reflexes. Still. Shuusuke tugged Tezuka a little out of the spray, so he wouldn’t lose his lather and have to distract himself from the body tight against his to hunt for the soap again. He stroked slick hands down Tezuka’s back, tracing skin and muscle, and laughed a little at the nubby roughness of a washcloth over his own shoulders. It was a pleasant almost-scratch down his spine.

Shuusuke’s hands reached Tezuka’s rear and moved down, feeling Tezuka’s muscles flex and tense. Shuusuke slid his fingers between Tezuka’s cheeks and pressed against him; Tezuka’s teeth closed on Shuusuke’s lower lip, and Shuusuke made a low, approving sound.

The sound became a moan as the washcloth moved down and rubbed over his own entrance. The rough cloth made him tingle, and Tezuka’s fingers, within it, pressed hard, circling, until Shuusuke’s body opened to that touch, just a little. Shuusuke clutched at Tezuka, pushing up against him, and Tezuka’s hand settled into small nudges that still made Shuusuke’s breath skip. His fingers flexed against Tezuka, and Tezuka bent his head to Shuusuke’s ear.

“Next time.”

Shuusuke laughed. “Promise?” he asked, voice husky with the tension low in his stomach.

“Yes,” Tezuka answered, so unequivocally that Shuusuke knew this was one of the times Tezuka was answering more than one question. He promised that there would be a next time. Good.

“Then yes,” Shuusuke whispered.

Tezuka’s hand, in the cloth, pressed harder again and Shuusuke wondered for a moment whether Tezuka was going to drive all the way into him with that tantalizing roughness. But the cloth drew back, and Tezuka’s bare fingers touched him, slick and fast, and sank into him before Shuusuke’s body recovered from the change. Shuusuke groaned as his muscles caught up and closed, working tight around Tezuka’s fingers. He was glad that Tezuka moved them only slightly, at first. Shuusuke wound his arms around Tezuka’s shoulders and leaned against him as those fingers stroked slowly in and out of him. He wasn’t sure whether their kisses distracted him from the sensation or added to it; whichever it was, it was good.

Tezuka’s tongue was in his mouth when the fingers inside him curled and Shuusuke barely had the presence of mind not to bite down. Fire flared up his spine, liquid and bright. Again. Again, and Shuusuke jerked against Tezuka’s body. Never mind slow. Never mind careful.

“Tezuka,” he gasped, rough and breathless, “now.”

He nearly howled with frustration when Tezuka’s fingers stilled. “Are you sure you’re ready?” Tezuka asked.

His voice was admirably solemn, but Shuusuke had known him long enough to be fairly sure he was being teased. “Tezuka,” he growled, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll remember this.”

A slight quirk to Tezuka’s mouth gave the lie to his serious tone. “I would hope so.”

Shuusuke snaked a soapy hand between them, and closed it over Tezuka’s erection, pulling a sharp, uncontrolled sound from him. “Now,” Shuusuke demanded.

Tezuka chuckled a bit unevenly, and slid his fingers out with a last flirt that left Shuusuke’s knees weak. “Turn around, then.”

Shuusuke braced his hands against the tile wall, voicing a pleased murmur as Tezuka moved against him. He breathed carefully, biting his lip as he ordered his body to relax around the hardness pressing into him. Another breath. Another. There was a twinge, and Tezuka was inside him, and Shuusuke’s breath left him.

“All right?” Tezuka asked, sounding a little tense.

“All right,” Shuusuke assured him. It ached, a little, but the openness and the warmth of Tezuka’s hands smoothing up and down his back overrode it.

The openness, especially. Shuusuke pressed back a little; he wanted that feeling deeper inside him. Tezuka took the hint. He dropped a kiss on Shuusuke’s shoulder, licked the moisture from his skin on a path up the side of his neck, moved forward, slowly. Shuusuke’s breath broke into pants, and he shivered, glad of Tezuka’s hands on his hips, steadying him. It felt open and full and hard and, above all, hot. Tingling, sparkling heat, rippling out from that marvelous place Tezuka’s fingers had found. Tezuka’s hips met his, cradling them, and then he was pulling back. Pressing in. Back. In. Slow and open and hot.

It was overwhelming, and Shuusuke wanted more. He reached between his legs, stroking himself, and moaned at the added layer of pleasure, brighter, smoother. It wound around the hardness of Tezuka inside him, and Shuusuke’s hand tightened, quickened. Tezuka matched his movement, and Shuusuke cried out. This was the rhythm he wanted, and his body recognized it, moved with it, quick spasms rocking him against Tezuka’s thrusts, driving his hand down. Heat coiled around him, tightened, tightened again, and he felt Tezuka driving into him raggedly, thrust against his own grip harder, felt the tightness snap. The fast, tingling heat exploded through him, and he felt himself bucking against Tezuka, straining into the tide of fire until it ran out.

Little details returned slowly. The tile was cold against his hand. His legs were shaking a bit. Tezuka’s arms were around him, holding tight, and Tezuka’s breath was hard against his ear. Slowly, they drew apart and came together again under the water, leaning on one another. Neither of them spoke, as they finished washing, trading the soap back and forth silently. Shuusuke didn’t mind; he was used to quiet from Tezuka. They dried off still in wordless, comfortable familiarity. Though, again, not total familiarity. He smiled when he emerged from toweling his hair and felt Tezuka behind him, combing fingers through it.

“I was never entirely sure how serious you were, you know,” Tezuka said, tone musing. “About any of it.”

Shuusuke’s smile twisted wryly. “Hard for anyone else to be sure when I wasn’t sure myself.”

“Are you now?”

“Can you tell now?” Shuusuke asked, half teasing.

Tezuka’s hands slid down to his shoulders. “Yes.” It was half a statement and half a demand, and maybe a hint of a question.

“Yes,” Shuusuke agreed, softly. Yes, he was serious, now. About all of it. The idea still scared him, just a little, the idea that he might not be able to back away from this thing he had found in himself when he let go and played with everything. But it really was incredible. And with Tezuka… He shivered. “Tezuka…”

Tezuka pulled him around and kissed him, a fierce, burning kiss. Shuusuke let other considerations fall by the way for the time being and answered him very seriously indeed. It truly was appropriate that unleashing himself on the court had washed away his hesitation to close the last distance with Tezuka. He rather suspected it was what Tezuka had been waiting for. They were both breathing quickly when they parted.

“Ah, now, this time I understand you,” Shuusuke murmured.

Tezuka smiled.

End