Chapter Text
Ryoma had seen the Atobe and Irie situation coming from the moment he walked through the door.
It wasn't hard. Atobe was performing indifference with the energy of a man who had never been indifferent to anything in his life, and Irie was doing that thing where he smiled at everyone except the one person he kept tracking across the room. Ryoma had clocked it in approximately thirty seconds and filed it under not my problem.
He was here for Tokugawa. He honestly didn’t care that much about Atobe and Irie and their stupid drama. His sponsor was always having some kind of weird drama with Irie. From what he could tell it was just the backbone of their relationship.
The reception wound on. Byodoin made Atobe dance with Irie in front of everyone, which was frankly more entertainment than anything else the evening had offered. Ryoma watched from a safe distance, tracking the chaos with the detached interest of someone watching a nature documentary about particularly dramatic monkeys.
Ryoma got himself a piece of cake.
Atobe and Irie disappeared outside eventually. The room noticed. Nobody said anything. Yukimura looked extremely pleased with himself.
Ryoma ate another piece of cake.
Atobe and Irie returned together. Not making an announcement of it. Just walking back through the doors like it was the most natural thing in the world, which Ryoma supposed it was, for them.
The room noticed immediately. Yukimura stood up to address the betting pool with the pleasant authority of a man who had been waiting for this moment all evening.
Ryoma watched Tezuka Kunimitsu collect his winnings from Yukimura like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he'd expected this outcome the entire time and had simply been waiting.
Maybe he had known. He did seem to know the Monkey King pretty well.
Still, it was irritating.
"You bet on tonight." He said it like an accusation.
"Yes." Tezuka replied, pocketing the money without any apparent guilt.
"I bet two months."
"I know."
Ryoma stared at him. Tezuka looked back with complete composure.
"You could have told me."
"You didn't ask."
Ryoma had nothing to say to that. He ate his third slice of wedding cake with slightly more aggression than was strictly necessary.
He caught a glimpse of Tokugawa and Byodoin leaving, Byodoin’s hand on the small of Tokugawa’s back, Tokugawa laughing at something...
Well, that was enough.
He turned back to his cake. Maybe he’d have a fourth slice. He eyed the remaining cake, calculating if it was worth it.
“You’re going to make yourself sick.” Tezuka warned.
Echizen Ryoma did in fact make himself ill. Tezuka had called it when he saw Ryoma eyeing the third slice of cake. The fourth had just really sealed the deal.
He wasn’t entirely sure how he had ended up holding Ryoma’s hat while the boy vomited his guts out in the bathroom, however.
“I warned you.” He stated again. “Overeating isn’t good for you.”
“Shut up.” Ryoma complained half-heartedly. He seemed done with the worst of it, at least, though he still had a sickly pallor. “I realize it was a mistake.”
“You should probably get some rest. I’ll take you back to your hotel room.” Tezuka offered. Not because he really thought that Ryoma needed his help. He would probably be fine now that there was less cake in his system. Walking him back to his room just felt like the right thing to do for the kind of relationship they had.
Tezuka didn’t think too hard about what that relationship was. Instead he offered Ryoma a hand.
Ryoma looked at the hand, hesitating for a split second before taking it.
“Thanks, Buchou.”
The wedding venue was mostly empty by the time they emerged from the bathroom. The stragglers that remained were too absorbed in their own conversations to pay much attention to Tezuka escorting a slightly green Echizen Ryoma through the lobby.
Ryoma had let go of his hand by then, which was fine. He was walking steadily enough.
They took the elevator up in silence. The comfortable kind, not the kind that needed filling. Ryoma leaned against the wall with his cap back on, looking like someone who had learned an important lesson and was too stubborn to admit it out loud.
Tezuka still had his hat in his hand.
He handed it back silently. Ryoma took it, equally silent. They rode the rest of the way up in the quiet that had followed them across multiple hotels in multiple countries. The quiet that left Tezuka feeling like he was standing on the shore of a calm lake in the alps.
The elevator beeped as it arrived on Ryoma’s floor. Ryoma stepped out. Tezuka followed him. They walked the length of the floor. Ryoma’s door was at the very end of the hall. He unlocked it and pushed the door open, then paused.
"You don't have to stay." He said it to the doorframe rather than to Tezuka.
"I know." Tezuka replied.
Ryoma stepped inside anyway, leaving the door open behind him. Tezuka followed.
The room was standard. Ryoma dropped onto the edge of the bed and looked at the ceiling with the expression of a man taking inventory of how he felt.
"Still worth it." He decided. "The cake was good."
Tezuka sat in the chair by the window. "You ate four slices."
"It was really good cake."
“That doesn’t mean you ought to eat four slices all in one go.”
“It was an expensive cake. I didn’t know when I’d have the chance to eat something like that again...” Ryoma sighed. “Maybe Kin-chan is rubbing off on me. Yeah, we’ll blame Kintarou.”
Tezuka looked bemused. Ryoma continued talking.
“Anyway, what are you planning to do with all that money you just won?” He asked. “You should spend it on something.”
“That’s generally what money is for.”
“I meant spend it on something specific.” Ryoma rolled his eyes. ”Food, maybe. When I’ve had some time to digest the cake.”
Tezuka blinked, something odd dawning on him.
“You’re suggesting I use the winnings to take you out for dinner?”
“I’m suggesting you take us out for dinner. Together.” Ryoma said it the same way he said everything. Like the message was obvious. Like what he was asking wasn’t strange new territory for them both.
Tezuka remained quiet for a moment. He thought about his winnings. Then he looked at Ryoma, still gazing up at the ceiling and anywhere except looking at Tezuka. His cheeks were pink.
He was pretending to be casual.
"All right." Tezuka said.
Ryoma sat up. He looked at Tezuka for a moment with that flat analytical expression, like he was assessing a return angle. Then he leaned over and kissed him. Brief. Unhurried. Matter of fact.
He pulled back.
"Mada mada da ne, Buchou." He said. Like that explained everything.
Tezuka considered this.
"We'll see." He replied.