Notes: There's actually some inconsistency in this story between use of 'Mukahi' and 'Gakuto' actually, but they're the same annoying little guy anyway. XD This is the sequel to Satisfaction, which is now complete. :D Enjoy 'About Us'!

Also, before someone asks, yes; this story has a happy ending. I rather like it so please stick around for it :3

Archive: NO.

Reviews: Nice, but not obligatory. I do, however, appreciate them. :D

About Us

Chapter 1

By Miki

Mukahi walked into the clubroom, his bag swung over one shoulder as he declared his latest plan to Oshitari.

Oshitari didn't pay him any attention.

Well, admittedly he was hearing what was coming out of Mukahi's mouth – not hearing Mukahi was impossible given he was talking at the speed of a machine gun and was currently nearly as loud as one – but he wasn't really paying any attention to the words.

He couldn't really understand Mukahi's continued fascination with "Yuu-chan", especially since Oshitari himself had taken some time to think about the evidence and decided that… Actually, there was none.

At any rate, the only piece of tangible evidence that anyone called "Yuu" even existed was that entry in Atobe's address book, and given that he'd never been close enough to Atobe to overhear his conversations or read his text messages – he'd tried probing Kabaji but the boy's knowledge was apparently harder to access than the switch to the Tokyo electricity grid – Oshitari wasn't even sure anymore whether Yuu-chan was even the source of Atobe's unpredictable mood swings. And if Yuu-chan wasn't the source of Atobe's mood swings, then there was little else to suggest that she was in any way important to Atobe at all.

He wasn't sure anymore, either, where the idea she was his girlfriend had come from.

It was entirely possible, after all, that she was just another of those girls his parents wanted him to meet. Parents like Atobe's generally seemed to think their sons and daughters should only be meeting a certain type of person… That was, the type of person they themselves liked.

Although, now that he considered it… perhaps Yuu-chan… wasn't even a girl.

"Yuushi!" Mukahi suddenly snapped, and Oshitari realised Mukahi was expecting an answer.

"Huh?" he turned around, giving something of a disinterested look.

Mukahi frowned a little, annoyed Oshitari hadn't been paying him any attention.

"I said," he repeated, "it's only a matter of time."

Oshitari simply sighed.

(S)

Atobe crossed his legs; right over left. A moment later, he uncrossed them and pulled out his phone, fiddling a little. Couldn't the time pass any faster than this?

He sighed a little, trying to maintain his look of extreme ennui, but somehow, it just wasn't working right now. So he crossed his legs – left over right – and twiddled his thumbs. Somehow, he felt as though he had too much energy and nowhere to use it. He really wanted to play a match right now, though really, it was out of the question.

It was much too sunny right now, and sitting here under the umbrella was a lot better for his skin than running around when the UV index was so excessively high and it was clear that tanning was not in Ore-sama's best interests.

And besides, he wanted to be on time for his… His…

He hesitated. Would one call it a 'date'?

(S)

"Choutarou! What are you doing?" Shishido yelled for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon.

He stepped toward the net; frustrated at the way his doubles partner kept losing his focus on their singles match. Sure, it was a practise match, but a match was a match, and Ootori was just being so…

"Ah, sorry Shihsido-senpai!" Ootori apologised, hand automatically tightening around the tennis ball in its grip. He didn't stop staring across toward the side though, and Shishido scowled as he realised where Ootori's eyes were directed once again.

Atobe.

What was so damn interesting about Atobe today? Suddenly everyone was staring at him like they'd never seen the stupid, prissy king of Hyotei before!

Not only that, Shishido could swear Ootori was looking at him with that look that meant he actually liked looking at him, which was really pissing Shishido off because damnit! Ootori only gave that look to him!

It wasn't like there was anything different about Atobe today. He was being his normal self – that was, he was doing absolutely nothing, sipping on what Shishido would assume was lemonade, playing with his phone, and making Kabaji stand next to him.

Shishido just didn't get it. Why was it always about Atobe?

"Hey, Shishido-senpai?"

"What?" Shishido snapped back, realising Ootori had approached the net and was leaning over it a little.

Ootori blushed suddenly, whether out of embarrassment or nervousness, Shishido didn't know. "Oh, nothing," he said, though Shishido could tell there was something he wanted to say.

He raised an eyebrow slightly at the boy, waiting for him to talk.

"Well," Ootori began, "do you… Do you think maybe Atobe made up with Yuu-chan?"

Shishido scowled. What the hell?

He ignored the question and stomped back toward the back of the court to receive Ootori's serve.

"Choutarou!" he growled out, "are you serving or not?"

"Y-yes, Shishido-senpai!" Ootori answered as Shishido continued to glare at him.

All he'd heard today was Atobe-this, Atobe-that from the rest of the players, and Mukahi – stupid redheaded idiot he was – was still talking about Yuu-chan this and Yuu-chan that, and since when was it any of their business what Atobe did anyway?

He couldn't wait for practise to end. Then he could go home, where there were no stupid Hyotei idiots, no stupid little redhead Mukahi, and most of all, no Atobe.

(S)

Atobe was still undecided as to whether it was a date or not. Somehow, he just hadn't brought up the subject with Yuuta on Friday night… Although truthfully, they hadn't really had a chance after that, since they'd been rather rudely interrupted.

Apparently librarians didn't particularly like finding teenage boys kissing in between the bookshelves, something which Atobe thought was rather stupid given that public libraries were for public use, funded by public taxes and therefore, did they not have the right to do as they pleased as long as they were using the library for something constructive?

He might have said that at the time, and might have pointed out that his parents actually paid more tax per year than that silly librarian would ever earn in his entire life and that that in itself entitled him to use the library as he wanted, and that there was no one else around to be disturbed anyway, and that the librarian could have easily ignored them had he chosen to not be such an annoyance…

Except that Atobe hadn't thought of all that until afterwards.

Probably because at that moment, all he'd been thinking about was… well, Yuuta. That, and apparently his mouth hadn't been inclined to cooperate with his brain, resulting in something of an embarrassing one-sided lecture from an under-qualified librarian.

It had reminded him why he didn't like listening to most public servants speak. One tended to find them tedious and lacking in cultivated opinions.

After that he'd had to drop Yuuta back at the dormitory since skipping dinner and leaving the dorm without permission was going to mean being grounded, which was why Atobe wished practise would hurry up and end so he could see Yuuta today.

Which, in turn, brought Atobe to his current problem, which was whether or not one would call spending time with Yuuta a date or not.

When they'd gone out together before, Atobe had never thought of those times as being 'dates'. But then, after Friday…

Atobe felt his cheeks reddening; an almost automatic reaction to the thoughts running through his head.

Something about the idea of actually dating Yuuta… Or maybe it was just thinking of Yuuta… made him feel just a little bit nervous. Nervous, but that warm feeling was still in his chest, and it felt good.

He wondered what they'd do today. He hadn't actually thought it through at all… It was kind of embarrassing, but he really wanted to start where they'd left off last time…

His cheeks flushed a little and he wondered if it would be okay with Yuuta. He'd said last time that he didn't hate kissing, so maybe… But then, he didn't want to push it, just in case Yuuta wasn't really ready.

If they were just kissing, then it should be okay, Atobe reasoned.

And then he looked up quickly, conscious of where he was. Maybe thinking about these sorts of things at training wasn't such a good idea. Was it his imagination or were there more people than usual simply staring at him today? It wasn't that he was particularly annoyed at the attention – he was rather used to it and he did like to be reminded that he was aesthetically pleasing to the eye after all… But… Somehow…

He peered at the courts, and caught Ootori staring at him. Shishido was giving him a glare.

"Kabaji," he said, at the same time remembering the drink next to him.

"Usu," came the comfortingly familiar reply.

Atobe picked up his lemonade and took a sip through the straw, frowning at the slight warmth of the glass. "Go and tell Shishido and Ootori that if they don't want to play, they can start running laps," he instructed, looking up at Kabaji as he spoke. The boy was looking down at him attentively, eyes unblinking, as usual.

"They're not on the court for decoration, after all," Atobe added, giving a little flick of his wrist to indicate that was all.

"Usu," Kabaji replied, heading off toward their court, where they seemed to be talking rather than making any progress in their game.

Atobe put down his drink again and uncrossed his legs. For a moment he played with his phone again, content to read back over Yuuta's last message, reassuring himself that he was meeting Yuuta today, and that he was picking Yuuta up after training. Then he crossed his legs again, fiddled some more and wondered why he couldn't leave already.

He glanced at his watch, but it told the same time his phone did, and he cursed the fact that time seemed to be mocking him. Really, why couldn't practise hurry up and finish?

(S)

"Shishido-senpai?"

Shishido tilted his head toward Ootori slightly as they walked.

"Are you… Do you want to come over today?" Ootori asked, cheeks blushing just a little.

Shishido grunted. "I'm going home."

He was annoyed at Ootori and he intended to show it. Imagining the look Ootori had on his face right now was enough to make him walk faster toward the street where they split up, just so he didn't have to see those annoyingly big, brown eyes his team mate possessed.

Stupid Atobe. Why was everyone staring at him today? Sure, he'd looked somehow… different… Friendlier perhaps? He'd definitely been in a better mood than he'd been in lately, but that was no reason to stare at him.

Jeez, Ootori was practically the worst of them too.

"Shishido-senpai."

"What?"

Shishido could tell from Ootori's voice that he must have stopped walking.

"Did I… do something?" the boy asked, and Shishido had to stop himself from turning around. He ignored the uncomfortable feeling in his chest – that feeling that he got whenever he could hear Ootori wasn't happy about something – and shoved one of his hands in his pocket.

Honestly, Ootori just didn't get it. He was so nice all the time, sometimes Shishido couldn't help but feel jealous, like he wanted to tell him to stop treating everyone the same way. He was even nice to Mukahi and Mukahi was a stupid little overly-flexible freak of nature.
About to turn around and face Ootori, he suddenly found a pair of arms wrapping around his chest from behind; the familiar firmness of Ootori's chin on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he snapped quickly, eyes instinctively looking around them. "You can't just! –"

"Can't I?" Ootori asked quietly, and Shishido knew he'd hurt him.

He didn't mean to.

It was just that Ootori was making him nervous, and the thought that someone they knew might just see them was always in the back of his mind when they were together like this…

He didn't know what he'd say if anyone asked what they were doing.

"Do you… I mean, are you embarrassed about… me?" Ootori continued.

Shishido heard him swallow and immediately regretted having said anything.

As he felt Ootori pulling his arms away, he caught them with his hands and held them there. "Don't."

"Don't what?" Ootori said; still sounding a little upset, but he didn't pull his arms away.

Shishido could feel the blood rushing to his face. He didn't answer Ootori, but instead just held his arms still, one hand slowly trailing along his arm to grasp his fingers. The palm of Ootori's hand was hot.

"Let's go," Shishido demanded gruffly, breaking their embrace as he began walking; his hand still grasping Ootori's.

"Where are we going?" Ootori asked quickly, sounding happier at the thought of going somewhere together.

"Your house," came Shishido's blunt answer, and Ootori was suddenly glad he'd decided to clean his room after all.

Now he just had to hope he'd remembered to throw his dirty boxers in the wash this morning and not on the floor.

(S)

Yuuta reached for the door of the limo, still surprised when the chauffeur beat him to it, even though he'd done it so many times before. He ducked his head, peeking inside and feeling less nervous when he glimpsed Atobe sitting at the opposite side of the vehicle.

Atobe had his eyebrow raised so Yuuta hurriedly got in, sat down and looked across at him.

"Atobe," he said, just a little bit nervously.

"Yuuta," was the smooth reply.

Yuuta looked at Atobe, who was making a point of looking at the distance in between them. "Is there something wrong with sitting next to me today?" Atobe asked, expression demanding that Yuuta move his bottom. Now.

Yuuta felt his face turning pink and shuffled over duly, trying not to look at Atobe as he did so. It was hard to shuffle a whole metre and a half over a seat and do it subtly, he realised.

"Honestly," Atobe chided a little, "one would have thought I was infectious."

"T-That wasn't it," Yuuta protested uselessly, squirming a little on the seat.

Atobe said nothing but hid his smile and glanced out of the window as the limo started moving.

Yuuta glanced at Atobe's legs as he crossed them, and his eyes were drawn to Atobe's hands… The way he placed them neatly in his lap and the way he crossed his legs, he looked incredibly… graceful. The way his shirt sat against his chest and the way his trousers sat just right above his hips… The wrinkles in his trousers…

Yuuta realised he was staring at Atobe's hands again, and as Atobe moved a hand, he quickly looked away.

"So where are we going?" he asked, finding a safe topic before Atobe chose one which wasn't so safe.

Atobe shook his head slightly, noticing with a twinge of disappointment that he might just have missed his chance. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet. Do you have a preference or shall we eat at the usual place?"

He'd been too busy thinking about other things… Like how to broach the subject with Yuuta without making it seem as though he'd actually been planning it all afternoon. Because of course, he hadn't. For the most part, he'd been wondering about how to get Yuuta to do that with him again.

As he thought about it again, he realised Yuuta had a hand on the seat just next to him. If he could just put his there as well… It wouldn't look so suspicious since they were sitting close together anyway…

"The usual," Yuuta repeated slowly. "Oh, you mean… the French restaurant?"

"Yes, that one. I feel rather like casserole, and of course mother was so unkind as to forget to remind anyone at home to buy the necessary ingredients," Atobe complained, making Yuuta wonder if now was a good time to confess he wasn't actually fond of casseroles made of snails.

"I…" he began, beginning to say so, when he felt a warm touch on his hand and jerked in surprise, quickly looking down to see Atobe slipping his hand into his.

"You were saying?" Atobe prompted.

A little thrill of pleasure rushed through him as he felt Yuuta's fingers curling around his hand tentatively, and he was glad he'd had practise at public speaking. It was useful when applied to similarly nerve-wracking situations.

"I… That sounds nice," Yuuta murmured, sounding for a moment like his mother.

He'd be able to avoid the snails. Somehow.

And besides, it seemed as though Atobe really liked that restaurant.

It wasn't just about him. It would have been selfish to ask to go somewhere else just because he didn't like snails… Even if they were rubbery things which normally crawled around a garden.

He glanced down at their hands again, and wondered if Atobe could feel the way his heartbeat was making his whole body feel funny. Experimentally, he moved the tips of his fingers over the back of Atobe's hand. His hand was softer than he'd have thought.

Atobe's skin felt smooth and much less calloused than Yuuta knew his own hands to be, and for a moment, it crossed Yuuta's mind to wonder if the rest of Atobe's body was like this. He blushed at the thought and when he glanced at Atobe's face, Atobe looked a bit pink too.

They held each other's hands all the way to the restaurant.

.tbc.