3-AM Sunshine
Atobe sighed. After spending the night on a crowded bus, even Ore-sama himself was somewhat subdued. Shishido had stopped throwing spit balls and was pretending to look annoyed with Ohtori, who was happily folding the unused paper into a crane. Hiyoshi was gazing out the window, apparently lost in thought. Kabaji was knitting a pair of purple mittens from a pattern spread across the empty seat next to him. And Mukahi, who had also grown tired of spit balls, was in the bathroom with Oshitari doing God-knows-what.
Aside from the dull roar of the bus engine (and the occasional giggle from Ohtori or muffled thump from the bathroom), all was silent. Too silent, Atobe thought. He realized that the air inside the bus had gotten too stuffy, so he opened the window to get some fresh air. Although the breeze was refreshing at first, Atobe decided that too much wind would mess up his hair. He slid the dirty window panel upward until it was only open a crack. With a gentle breeze playing across his regal face, he shifted uncomfortably in his gray plush seat. Suddenly, a faint snore from around his belly button jerked him out of his nettled thoughts.
"Damn," Atobe muttered to himself. How could he have forgotten about Jiroh? No wonder it was so quiet. It wasn't like a sleeping Jiroh was anything unusual, and Atobe had even been used as a pillow before; anyone who sat still long enough was a target. However, if Jiroh was awake, Atobe would have something to distract him from the mind-numbing bus ride. And from the cramping in his legs due to lack of circulation…
With a dignified grunt, Atobe turned and gave the window his best death glare. He peered through the smudged glass looking for a clue as to where they were, but the fingerprints completely obscured any possible view. Atobe couldn't help but notice the trio of dead flies clustered in the lower right hand corner of the window frame. The silver-haired teenager resisted the urge to gag at this insult to his aesthetic tastes. Originally, the plan was to travel in one of his fathers limousines, but the rest of the team insisted on having a so-called "road trip." After much badgering from Shishido and Mukahi and the sad puppy face from Jiroh, he finally gave in on the account that it was "for the sake of the team."
Atobe's eyes flicked upward, as if he were asking for divine assistance, and then instinctively fixed themselves upon the blonde boy in his lap. Jiroh rolled over slightly in his sleep, revealing a small, but slowly spreading puddle of drool on his captain's left knee. "Damn," Atobe mumbled again. He would have to make Kabaji do his laundry as soon as they reached the hotel. He let out a loud sigh, which went unnoticed. The bus was completely still; even Mukahi and Oshitari were asleep, each tangled in the other's arms in the back seat. The silence was overwhelming, a fourth fly had joined the three in the window, and Atobe had lost almost all feeling in his legs. He hated buses. He hated silence. He hated the fact that Jiroh had chosen now of all times to be passed out in his lap.
"Jiroh! Oi, Jiroh!" he whispered in an authoritative tone, giving the sleeping boy a slight push. Jiroh only grunted and turned again so that he was on his back. Not one to be ignored, Atobe felt his calmly contained frustration threaten to boil over. However, the swelling inside him suddenly stopped when he noticed the grin plastered on Jiroh's face. For a brief moment, Atobe thought Jiroh was pretending to be asleep, but his gut instinct told him otherwise. Only Jiroh can be hyper when he's sleeping, he thought. His anger subsiding, Atobe decided that it would be impossible even for him to wake the blonde at this point. The captain had always known that Jiroh affected him in ways that others did not, although he was unsure whether it was his eternally goofy smile, his sunshine attitude towards life, or his endearingly annoying ability to wake up when he wanted instead of when ordered to do so. Ore-sama's famous insight could only go so far after all.
The captain was soon pleased to discover that Jiroh's new position allowed him to stretch his numb legs across the aisle. Finally comfortable, Atobe listened intently to the blonde's quiet breaths punctuating the now welcome silence. Before closing his eyes, he gently patted the boy's childlike head. Jiroh's smile, if possible, grew even wider. As he drifted off to sleep, Atobe wondered if the boy ever had nightmares.