Rated R for some hot images, but no actual sex.
Notes: Happens during the Atobe Movie and inspired by Atobe's short shorts.
"Isn't this exciting, Minami-san!" Aoi shouted as he dragged the Yamabuki buchou out the door. It thankfully shut behind them, cutting off the sound of the loud freshman's voice. Tachibana and Sanada both sighed in tandem and sent each other a smile.
"I've never wanted silence so bad before," Atobe muttered as he tied his shoelaces. "I'd rather suffer through Gakuto and Shishido. At least they are entertaining when they're screaming at each other."
"They don't have to be screaming to be annoying," Tachibana tossed of his shoulder as he tucked his bag into his locker. "I find the quieter ones who can't shut up to be far worse."
Tachibana paused behind Tezuka, who was rearranging his locker to fit his things back inside. "Good luck, Tezuka-san."
"Thank you, Tachibana-san. The same to you," Tezuka said, turning to exchange a nod with the other captain before Tachibana exited the locker room.
Atobe sneered at Tachibana's back. Apparently Tachibana didn't feel like wishing Hyoutei any luck. Just as well, they didn't need any, and certainly not from him. Atobe thrust his bag into his locker and started to close it, when it fell back out. Atobe glared down at the bag as it lay on the floor, as if it should be ashamed of itself.
It was Sanada's luck that he chose that moment to look over. Atobe had bent down to retrieve his bag, his ridiculously short shorts riding up to a nearly obscene point. It was to Sanada's utter mortification when he spotted his own hand reached up toward Atobe. He stared at it in shock as it moved under its own power to tug Atobe's shorts back down.
The contact was brief, but Sanada's fingers had slid up into the leg of Atobe's shorts to brush against smooth skin for what felt like an eternity before he could pull his hand away.
Atobe stiffened and sucked in a breath. Both of them were completely silent as a flash of identical images passed their line of vision. Impressions of calloused fingertips moving across sensitive skin, of heated breath onto heated skin, of sweat rolling between sweaty bodies.
They both closed their eyes and attempted to banish memories of the Senbatsu Training Camp for a moment before Atobe straigtened and turned, as if to speak to Sanada. He was interrupted by the clearing of someone's throat.
"Excuse me," Tezuka said, his own cheeks a bit flushed. Atobe and Sanada both wondered what images had assaulted Tezuka when he had turned around to catch a glimpse of Sanada's hand up Atobe's shorts, and who they were images of.
There was a long pause as the three of them remained in silence. Sanada turned back to tying his shoe. Atobe stuffed his bag into his locker, closing it successfully this time. Tezuka headed for the locker room door. Tezuka paused there and looked back to see Atobe place a hand on Sanada's shoulder, and had a bizarre feeling as if he had lost something without ever having it.