S: I will admit, this isn't my first fanfic but it is my first time posting on FF[.]net. I always feel like my fanfics come out terrible but I refuse to give up trying to make a good one. And I know I probably shouldn't aim straight for M-rated material but eh, go hard or go home right?

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis in any way shape or form.

Chapter 1: Night Shift and a Proposition

It was slow as usual at the 24 hour convenience store, the occasional customer coming in every hour or so. Kirihara was working the graveyard shift and thought he would die of boredom before 7 o'clock rolled around, especially since it was only 2:30am. The tennis magazine he was flipping through was becoming harder and harder to concentrate on, and the minty gum he'd popped into his mouth to try and keep himself awake was steadily losing its flavor. After letting out his fifth yawn in 10 minutes he began thinking of things he could restock. He recalled an older woman buying an abnormal amount of toilet tissue earlier and decided to fetch some from the back, glad that he'd left himself some work to do.

The convenience store was a dead end job for Kirihara, with no chances of raises or promotions. It only paid minimum wage and the uniform had to be purchased separately. On holidays the store would be closed because, despite the money holidays could bring in, the cheap ass manager didn't want to pay employees time and a half. Even with the shit pay, Kirihara was thankful for the job since nobody else was hiring, even if he was barely able to make enough for rent and food.

Tonight he was alone, the other employee he was supposed to be working with was out with some sort of virus (much to the managers delight), but Kirihara wasn't too concerned. No one came in at this hour. The tissue was easy enough to grab and carry to the correct aisle, but he took his time making sure everything was meticulously straight. Done with the small task he let out a sigh knowing that less than 10 minutes probably went by. The ding of a bell alerted him to a customer and he walked towards the entrance to greet them. Customers were always a nice distraction to the never ending silence of the night shift.

"Welcome," He yawned out as he came around the corner of the aisle.

Bending over to grab a carrying basket was a tall guy with brown hair. He looked pretty plain dressed in a khaki jacket, button up, and a pair of jeans. Kirihara off handedly wondered how the guy could see with his eyes closed. The sole customer looked towards him for a moment and with a nod went back to shopping. Kirihara arched a brow but continued on his way to back to the checkout counter, dismissing the boy's questionable eyesight. As the guy walked passed him, he took note of the aisle the boy went down.

Hygiene? He thought. Why would he come at this hour to get soap?

He decided to ignore it and popped another stick of minty gum into his mouth. He turned back to his magazine, steadily flipping through pages and glancing up at the security monitor every now and then to make sure weird eyes wasn't shop lifting. His manager would definitely take it out of his pay if someone stole something, the bastard. The ding of the door bell rang again and Kirihara thought it was a bit odd that more than one person was coming in around 3am.

Just as he looked up to greet the new customer his eyes were met with the barrel of a gun. He jumped back, his hands flying up. He swore and crashed into the rows of cigarettes lined up on the wall behind him. The guy before him wore an oversized black hoodie, dark jeans, and a scarf over his face along with sunglasses. He threw a duffle bag on the counter and pointed at it with his gun.

"Open the register and put the money in the bag," He said his voice gruff and scratchy.

Kirihara glanced at the register and then the gun gulping. It was a simple enough task but all he could think about was the money coming out of his check. If he didn't give the thief the money he could quite possibly get shot and/or die. If he did give him the money, he wouldn't be able to pay his rent or buy food. Fuck.

"Look dude, there's a gas station a few blocks down the street and they get a lot more business than us. Why don't you just-"

Three shots rang out. Kirihara dived to the floor covering his head. The robber had just shot into the ceiling, his patience gone.

"Put the money in the FUCKING BAG!"

He shot at the cigarettes lined up along the wall for good measure.

"Alright! Alright! Jesus fucking Christ!" Kirihara exclaimed in fear. He jumped up shakily and opened the register, throwing the money into the duffle bag as fast as he could. The gun was trained on him, waiting to explode if he made any wrong moves.

"The change too," the guy said hastily.

He scowled but picked up the change, dumping it into the bag as well. The thief pocketed the gun and zipped the duffle bag, snatching it up and running from the store.

Kirihara wasted no time picking up the phone and calling the cops, and although he dreaded making the call, he also phoned his boss as well. Of course the asshole blamed the whole situation on him and angrily told him all of the money was coming out of his next pay check. It took everything in Kirihara not to chuck the innocent device across the room in frustration, lest he'd have to pay for that too. Not only did he get shot at and robbed but he had to pay for the money taken and he wouldn't be able to pay his rent. He groaned in frustration, smashing his palms into his eyes and pulling at his hair.

"Are you alright?" A voice came.

He jumped 3 feet into the air and whirled around. Standing before him was the plain customer with closed eyes. Kirihara sighed in relief, glad it wasn't the thief. He was suddenly glad this guy wasn't near the front of the store when the thief was around. Being robbed was one thing, but having a customer get shot or die would definitely get him fired.

"I'm fine," he breathed out. But he wasn't. He'd never gotten robbed or shot at before. Sure he'd been in some adrenaline rushing situations but never something that warranted fear for his life. The strange customer must have noticed that he was shaking a bit and pushed him toward a stool. Kirihara let him, too drained and filled with fear to do anything else, and the guy's firm hand on his shoulder was a form of comfort. He sat on the stool and began rubbing at his eyes again.

"Is there no one else here?"

"No, my coworker is out sick. I'm the only one working tonight."

"I'll stay with you until the police come then." The guy said, leaning against the counter next to him.

Kirihara took comfort in this and began to relax. The thought of staying in the store alone after being robbed did not bring on good feelings. The two boys fell into silence, both sticking to their own thoughts and patiently waiting. Soon though, Kirihara's attention began to focus on the strange customer by his side. He looked incredibly neat. His button up had no wrinkles and neither did his jacket, his hair was precisely cut and kept, and his jeans had sharp creases in didn't know he was staring until the customer looked over at him and raised an arched eyebrow. He flushed and sat up a little straighter on his stool, blurting out the first thing he could think of.

"What are you doing here?" The question slipped out. The boy only raised both brows this time.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! "I-I mean, why'd you come to the store so late at night?" he stumbled out, hoping the guy wasn't judging him too badly. The boy opened his eyes a sliver, completely taking Kirihara off guard. His eyes were a sharp brown that immediately made his heart jump into his throat. The brief stare was intense before he closed his eyes again and turned his head toward the back wall of ruined cigarettes.

"Business." He stated, offering no other explanation. This time it was Kirihara's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"What's your name?" Another question slipped out. He bit his tongue, maybe it was his nerves that had him chatty but he really shouldn't keep asking this guy questions. The stranger only turned back to him and smiled a bit.

"Yanagi Renji," He said. "Dozo yoroshiku."

"Kirihara Akaya," he mumbled out, feeling a bit awkward now. He was about to go back to waiting when Yanagi interrupted his thoughts.

"May I ask you a question now Kirihara-san?" Yanagi asked turning toward him. Kirihara gave a hesitant nod.

"Do you like your job?"

An immediate scowl crossed his face.

"No," he said, anger lacing his words. "My boss is an asshole, we get shit pay, and if anything happens to the store it comes out of my paycheck! I hate this job, I'd quit if I could find something better."

"Mmm" he said, leaning against the counter once again. "If you're interested, I know a place that's hiring."

Kirihara perked up at this, his anger forgotten. A potential job could bring in more money. "What kind of job is it?" He asked quickly.

Yanagi smiled a small smile. "Modeling, it's for a modeling agency."

He blanched. He didn't know the first thing about modeling, and fashion wasn't exactly his forte, especially since he was too poor to buy clothes. "I don't think so." He said slowly, "I'm not exactly into fashion."

"It's not exactly for fashion," he said stepping towards him and cupping his face, his thumb rubbing across his chin. "You should think about it, you definitely have the face."

Kirihara blushed, his heart racing a mile a minute. Yanagi, noting his blush, brought his other hand to his face and stroked his cheek with him thumb. "Red suits you," he said quietly.

The ding of the door bell took Yanagi's hands away from his face and Kirihara jumped out of his chair. The cops came in closely followed by his manager. After the cops took their statement and Kirihara received an angry lecture from his boss, the store was closed and everyone was free to go home.

"If you ever reconsider it," Yanagi started before Kirihara went off in the opposite direction. "Here's my card. Feel free to call anytime." He gave him a small smile, nodded, and walked away.

Kirihara fingered the card, reading over all the information. "X Modeling, huh?" He mumbled.

He looked towards the direction Yanagi went and stuffed the card in his pocket. He wasn't a model.

S: That's the end of chapter one. Was it ok? I hope they weren't too OOC, tell me and I'll try harder to keep them in character. Leave a review (good or bad)! I think that after 10 reviews I'll post the next chapter