Theme is "Embrace."
It was damn cold. The worst thing about living in Japan, Ryoma decided as he did every year, was that no one seemed to understand the simple concepts of central heating and insulation. In summer you sweated and in winter you froze, and that was simply the way things were. No wonder they'd invented the kotatsu.
Ryoma tucked his legs further under the quilt, grinning as Karupin twisted sleepily on the warm tabletop, batting at his fingers. "You have fur to keep you warm," he pointed out wryly, but didn't bother trying to shoo the cat away. Karupin would only be back on the kotatsu the moment his back was turned, anyway, pretending to be fast asleep. More often than not Ryoma would fall asleep at the kotatsu too, especially after long days of training. Fuji-senpai had come over unexpectedly last week, so there were probably pictures in circulation by now.
Keys jangled at the front door, and Ryoma tilted his head back as the best thing about living in Japan walked in, accompanied by a cold gust.
"Tadaima."
"Okaeri." Ryoma narrowed his eyes, noticing the stiffness and concealed pain in Tezuka's posture as he set his bag down and removed his shoes. It seemed like stoicism and self-denial had beaten common sense again; Ryoma had been expecting it since he'd seen the weather report this morning.
"I told you to take the bus," he observed dryly, watching the way Tezuka straightened and began unfastening his coat� right-handed. "How long did you play?"
Tezuka frowned and then winced as he had to move his left shoulder. "It's fine."
"Whatever." Ryoma rose easily to his feet, padding over and sliding the heavy winter coat from Tezuka's shoulders to hang it up. "Get over to the damn kotatsu already and get warm, idiot." Tezuka gave him a look, and Ryoma smirked, tiptoeing to kiss him quickly, shock of chilled lips against his. "You don't have to hold the rest of us up any more, buchou." He used the word deliberately � no longer a title or even a slip of habit, it had been relegated to the occasional joke� and his favourite way to tease.
Tezuka raised a wry eyebrow, but did eventually move towards the kotatsu where Karupin had given up begging to be petted and curled into a fluffy ball, tail over his nose. Ryoma gave the both of them an approving nod and retreated to the kitchen, filling the kettle for tea. The hot packs were already waiting in the microwave; this wasn't the first time, and if Ryoma had been asked he'd have pointed out that playing on the outdoor courts on the coldest day of the year was a stupid idea. Indoor training was a perk of the off-season, damn it.
Not that Tezuka had ever been the type to allow himself any leniency. Ryoma grimaced, remembering tournaments in blue and white, phone reports from physical therapy, the burden of trying to hold up a club without its idol and captain. Tomorrow, he decided as he poured the tea, he was going to call Fuji-senpai. He was usually good at guilting Tezuka into taking care of himself. Of course, getting Fuji to actually agree to anything was a pain, and Ryoma had no liking for owing favours to his senpai. Maybe he could get Yuuta to ask instead.
The microwave beeped, and Ryoma reached for the hot packs, swearing under his breath as he almost burned his fingers getting them wrapped in the towel.
When he slid round the door into the living room, Tezuka was sitting at the kotatsu and petting Karupin. He looked up as Ryoma padded towards him, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile that pushed the pain from his eyes.
"Mmph," Ryoma commented through a mouthful of towel, settling down and tucking his legs back into the comforting warmth. He set the cups onto the table and took the heat packs from between his teeth. "What?"
Tezuka closed his eyes, long fingers wrapping around the hot porcelain as Ryoma passed him his tea. "Nothing."
"Che." Ryoma shook his head and gulped his own tea quickly; he'd never developed much of a liking for bitter tastes, but today a can of Ponta would probably freeze his fingers off. The steam from his cup was fogging Tezuka's glasses a little; it made his eyes look hazy, and Ryoma smiled despite himself.
"Here." He set his empty cup down, shuffling around the kotatsu until he was behind Tezuka. Sitting, the top of his head was just about level with Tezuka's chin, but kneeling he could wrap his arms around the taller man from behind. "You're still cold," he murmured as Tezuka leaned back into his embrace, not quite relaxed; Ryoma could feel the tension and stiffness in his shoulders and the line of his spine. He reached for Tezuka's jacket, and had the zipper two thirds of the way down before Tezuka's hand covered his.
"I'm fine."
Ryoma pressed his face into Tezuka's neck to stifle the immediate response to that, and tugged his hands free. "Kunimitsu."
The name was intimate, and it was his, and it got results every time. Tezuka sighed, and leaned back into his arms, and didn't protest further as Ryoma carefully peeled off his jacket and shirt.
There was never anything to show of the old injury but the slight stiffness in Tezuka's posture. Even that could only be seen after hard matches, or on winter days when the cold dug in its teeth and set the scarred muscles into aching spasms. Ryoma ran light fingertips over skin, narrowing his eyes as Tezuka winced under the touch, and ducked away for a moment to grab the hot packs from the kotatsu.
"Ah!" Tezuka exclaimed, straightening abruptly, as Ryoma pressed the first pack against the back of his left shoulder, moulding the hot gel to muscle and bone. He only hissed as the second went on, though, and lifted his right hand to hold it against his skin. Ryoma smiled, watching the tension draining out of his boyfriend's spine. It was easy to tell when the pain was gone; Tezuka exhaled on a slow breath and his whole posture relaxed. He wasn't quite where Ryoma wanted him yet, though � all this bare skin was definitely giving him ideas.
"Better?" He shifted the cooling gel packs after a long, comfortable silence, tossing them to the table as Tezuka reached for his shirt.
"Aa. Thank you."
"Wait, not yet." Ryoma set a hand on Tezuka's, stilling him, then drew his fingers gently up his boyfriend's arm, knowing that the touch couldn't be considered anything but a caress. This, though� He pressed the pads of his thumbs into the shoulder muscles, smoothing away the remnants of tension and cramping with slow, deep strokes. By the time he was satisfied with the left shoulder, Tezuka was boneless and pliant under his hands. Ryoma smirked and switched sides to massage the right shoulder as well, then slid his arms around his boyfriend's waist and tugged. Tezuka all but collapsed into his arms, gasping; Ryoma grinned, pressing closer against him and kissing the side of his neck.
"Ne, Kunimitsu� want to play together?"