A/N: Well, once again, I should have been working on the next chapter of my Silver Pair fic, "Out of Defeat", but I have been in a Tango Pair mood, and this little story just wouldn't get out of my head. I think Sanada/Atobe is very sweet, somehow! Anyway, this is my first time writing Sanada, and basically my first time writing Atobe too (he does show up a little in Out of Defeat). I especially enjoyed writing from Atobe's perspective, and I hope you also enjoy this!

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis.

Atobe sighed.

It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was shining, and the sky was perfectly blue and free of clouds. Atobe should have been outside, but instead, he was lying on his bed. In fact, he had not left his room for two days. A tray laden with his untouched breakfast sat near the door. A variety of discarded books was spread next to him.

He was not suffering from any illness, but from a malady of the heart. The only clue to this mysterious ailment was that his full length, ivory-framed mirror was covered with a piece of lilac silk.

Of course, he was not sulking. It was simply impossible for him to go outside. Others might not understand, but his image was very important. He sighed again, even though there was nobody to hear him.

There was a brisk knock at the door.

"Who is it?" he called in what he hoped was still a suitably imperious manner.

"Atobe!" said a familiar voice. "Are you still sulking?" The door swung open, and in stepped a certain blue-capped tennis player, looking sadly out of place in Atobe's exquisitely furnished domain. He dropped his sports bag near the door, and walked over to the bed.

"I do not sulk," Atobe replied, propping himself up on an elbow. "I have merely withdrawn for the time being."

Sanada dropped down on the bed next to him and shoved aside the books, ignoring Atobe's delicate wince.

"Do you want to go play a game?" he asked, rather tactlessly, in Atobe's opinion.

Atobe sniffed, and turned away.

"As I have already told you," he said, "I am not going out today."

Sanada frowned, bringing a shadow to his already serious face. Atobe had the sinking sensation he was about to receive a lecture on the virtues of fresh air and regular exercise.

"You don't need to worry about it so much," Sanada said unexpectedly.

Atobe scowled.

"I also lost to Echizen. Besides, Rikkaidai will beat Seigaku in the finals."

"You are so sure that they will defeat Shitenhouji?" Atobe asked.

"Of course," Sanada said.

"One gets possessive about one's rivals, does one not?" Atobe observed. "Anyway, I'm flattered that you are offering to defeat Echizen for me, but I would not be so poor a sportsman as to brood over a loss."

"Well then, what's the problem?" Sanada demanded.

Atobe gaped at him.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Sanada looked at him for a minute, and then his eyes widened.

"Oh, you mean the hair," he said.

"Exactly," Atobe said, raising his eyes to the heavens. "It's hideous! It's shameful! I can't possibly go out like this."

"Why not?" Sanada said.

"With your hair," Atobe said with a sneer, "which, may I remind you, is covered by a hat, could never understand the seriousness of the matter."

Sanada shrugged, and pulled off his hat. Atobe immediately reached up with both hands and started to smooth the rumpled black hair. It was not such bad hair, he decided. While obviously not as wonderful as Atobe's had been, it was clean, and surprisingly fluffy. And it smelled quite nice.

"You have a hair fixation," Sanada said, reaching up to grab Atobe's wrist.

"That's right," Atobe said. He let Sanada pull his hand away.

"Well, I've thought of a solution," Sanada said.

"Oh?"

Sanada picked up the hat, and plopped it onto Atobe's shorn head.

"There," he said, tweaking it.

Atobe's mouth opened, but for once, he was speechless. He was slightly horrified, but also rather touched. Sanada's hat was not an item lightly bestowed.

"So get dressed," Sanada said. He pulled Atobe to his feet, and glanced over at the uneaten food in the corner. "I'm taking you for some lunch, and then we can play a game."

Atobe knew he should protest, but the plan did not sound so terrible. He was getting bored staying inside, anyway.

After he changed, he uncovered his mirror. As he had suspected, the hat was not at all his style.

Of course, it looked much more wonderful on him than on Sanada.

A/N: Just a brief note on why I didn't have Atobe call himself "ore-sama":

When using that form in English, it requires that you have Atobe refer to himself in the third person, for example "Ore-sama wants" instead of "I want". I think it's just too stilted, and doesn't quite have the right effect. So instead, I just tried to make Atobe's speech suitably dignified and in character.

I hope you enjoyed this, and please review!