bonnefois | fic: Viscera

M, your package went out yesterday~! Sorry there's no card, I kept meaning to and in the end I could only scribble a note. Um, it's kind of sloppier than usual because the road was bumpy. Sorry!

I was considering doing all

31_days as it's kind of a tradition, but my brain is going NO GTFO D< at the moment. If I try there'd certainly be lots of crying AND GNASHING OF TEETH~ Um, I'm still doing (more) of the themes, though~!

*stares at flist* There are so many Leos on my flist.

title: Viscera
theme/day: August 2 [2008]: Visceral love.
fandom: Tenipuri
character/pairing: Tezuka/Fuji
summary: Fuji never has tired of photographing Tezuka, and he knows he never will.
A/N: Simple Pleasures update, why not. Previous parts are here or here More sleeping, hee. Probably because my brain is screaming at me with C-CAN I HAS SLEEP NAO ;___; My answer is of course NO! D<.

Fuji slips out of bed. The covers feel warm, comfortable; like a lover’s touch. He doesn’t want to leave them, and yet, the light source is just right at this hour. Fuji doesn’t like to let such opportunities slide.

Tezuka’s hair is always in a state of perpetual bedhead. Fuji can’t help but love the fact that Tezuka unintentionally always looks like he’s just had some very good sex, not that his expression would convey that. (Though, with Fuji around, that description is very apt. )

Fuji is ever prepared. He always keeps his camera near in cases like this.

While other photographers update for the most streamlined kinds of cameras out there, Fuji picks older, vintage types. This camera is older than he is, finding film for it is an adventure in itself, for this kind of obscure film is about as common as seeing Tezuka smile.

Fuji tiptoes over the bare wooden floor, goosebumps prickle over his flesh; the morning air is chilly. He rubs his arms. He misses the warmth, the feel of Tezuka’s bare skin. But soon enough he will return.

He aims the camera, Tezuka looks so far away in this old, tiny viewfinder.

Poking out from the sheets is a line of shoulder, bare skin. The shutter clicks, loud.

Fuji has always liked the sound of the shutter, loud as it is. He mentally notes to find a quieter one for morning usage.

He notices a grimace, a bit of tension on Tezuka’s face. He has to suppress a giggle. Tezuka feigning sleep? Maybe Tezuka’s starting to pick up on his habits after all.

No one sees these pictures, they are his alone. Fuji loves the way the light splays over Tezuka, the abstractness of Tezuka sleeping, feign-sleep as it is. Bone and muscle and skin, every single inch of Tezuka, he loves it all.

Fuji never has tired of photographing Tezuka, and he knows he never will.

After around half a roll, Fuji sets the camera aside and tiptoes back into bed.

“Are you finished?” Tezuka mutters sleepily.

“For now,” Fuji replies as he settles in closer.

“For now.”