Everything's Just Wonderful.
Part of the 'Lunchtime' series.
Part 1; Atobe x Jirou, side Oshitari x Gakuto.
There is one thing that Jirou hates the most in the world.
Even more than falling asleep in the bathroom in school and waking up hours later locked in and even more than biting into a chocolate and finding out Gakuto has swapped it for a liquorice ball.
And that is the telephone. Mobiles are a little more acceptable (how else would Atobe be able to text him?) but ordinary house phones, or even public phone boxes are something he steers well clear of wherever possible.
Gakuto can't understand it. "Why only normal phones?" he asks, "why not mobiles too?"
So Jirou replies that he's "had several bad experiences involving normal phones, but has yet to have one with a mobile."
Gakuto stares at him, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, before he bursts out laughing. Jirou nonchalantly carries on eating; he knows it will be a good ten minutes before Gakuto's calmed down enough to finish his lunch and grins when he encounters a tiny octopus sausage hidden in his rice. He reaches in with his chopsticks and finds himself battling with Gakuto's.
"Hey!" He swats Gakuto's away.
"Aww," Gakuto pouts, looking down despondently at his own rice. "Mine only has peas in it. My mum's never figured out how to make the octopuses."
"Octopi, Gakuto." Jirou says as he pops the sausage in his mouth and chews thoughtfully.
"Whatever." Gakuto mutters, going back to his food.
They sit in comfortable silence for about five minutes, before it's punctuated by the trill of Gakuto's phone. Gakuto looks up from his food in surprise, sets his lunch down and digs around in his bag. When he finally finds it, one of the charms on it gets stuck under one of his books and as he yanks it out, whatever it is snaps off, but Gakuto doesn't seem to have noticed. He's to busy staring at his phone screen, eyes wide.
"Yuushi." He breathes, then he dashes off, almost knocking over his chair, leaving Jirou and his lunch behind. Puzzled, Jirou stares after him, hearing the drum of his footsteps gradually fade away, leaving the classroom in silence again. He puts his own lunch down and fishes his phone out of the pocket of his blazer.
'What's wrong with Oshitari-senpai?' He texts to Atobe, and it doesn't take long for the reply to flash up on the screen.
'He collapsed in class. The nurse said he had heat exposure, or heatstroke, or both.' Jirou giggled. 'How did you know? Ore-sama was on his way to tell you.'
Jirou rolled his eyes. 'Still using 'ore-sama'? xD I think he or the nurse must have texted Gakuto, 'cause he ran off about five minutes ago. Is he okay? Gakuto looked really worried :['
'Where are you?' Atobe's request is as blunt and demanding as always.
'My homeroom, me and Gakuto each lunch here every Tuesday :] ' Jirou replied, taking a sip of water.
'Stay there; ore-sama will come to you.' That's surprising, Jirou thinks, usually he's the one doing the walking.
He puts the lid on top of his half-finished lunch and does the same for Gakuto's. Then he takes another sip of water and screws the lid back on slowly. It really is hot today; the tennis courts are reflecting a layer of shimmering heat so visible it could be water, and the ground is cracked in places, especially under the tree outside the window. Jirou rests his cheek against the window. The glass is cool and smooth under his face and he closes his eyes as the cold seeps through his skin. He'll wake up with lines on his face where his fringe has stuck to it, but Jirou's too sleepy to care.
He wakes up to find Atobe leaning over him, hair shining in the sun. Jirou's suddenly very awake and he throws his arms around Atobe's neck.
"Good morning," Atobe teases and Jirou giggles.
"How long was I asleep for?" He yawns, face fitting perfectly into the crook of Atobe's neck like puzzle pieces.
"Not long," Atobe replies, hands sliding up to rest on Jirou's hips.
Atobe's skin is as smooth as ever, and wonderfully cool in contrast to the heat of the classroom, but Jirou notes that he doesn't recognise his cologne today.
"Did you get new cologne, Atobe?" He looks up, big brown eyes staring into Atobe's blue ones. Atobe grimaces.
"My father arranged a meeting with the daughter of a cologne company from England." Jirou's heart sinks into his stomach. "But while she was perfectly pleasant, we both came to the conclusion that marrying each other was out of the question. Not only does she have her heart set on someone else," He looked down at Jirou, "as do I."
Jirou feels his cheeks heat up and a goofy grin spreads across his face.
And no honorific either!
"But," Atobe continues, "also that we would just get on each others' nerves. However she was very well read, and so we spent the meeting discussing English literature. As thanks she sent me a bottle of their newest cologne yesterday, and father insisted I wear it."
"It's very nice," Jirou comments, "it suits you, I think you should wear it more often."
"If that's what you want."
"It is."
Then there are strong fingers under his chin and Jirou finds himself staring into deep blue eyes. Atobe's breath ghosts over his lips as he leans in to kiss him, and Jirou presses forwards, eyes sliding shut. Atobe is always gentle, but he's a little more forceful today, pressing Jirou into his chair, fingers hovering just under Jirou's shirt. In response, Jirou lifts his hands, cupping Atobe's face like it's the most precious thing in the world and kisses back with just as much vigour.
He slides his tongue into Atobe's mouth and smiles when Atobe lets out a tiny, tiny whimper that he'll later deny. It feels like hours have passed when they finally part, Jirou's cheeks are flushed high and Atobe's hair is mussed, but neither of them cares.
"I suppose we'd better go and see how that idiot's doing." Atobe mutters and Jirou nods in agreement.
"Ah, I'd better take Gakuto's stuff; he left it all behind."
Atobe waits patiently while Jirou fusses around with Gakuto's lunch box and bag, and takes his hand when Jirou turns to him, Gakuto's bag slung over one shoulder.
Jirou stifles his laughter by stuffing a fist into his mouth and Atobe snorts disdainfully next to him.
They'd meandered slowly to the nurse's office, on the other side of the building, and when they'd reached it, the door had been left ajar. Jirou had cautiously pushed it open and burst into a fit of giggles when he'd spotted the only occupied bed.
Gakuto is sprawled over Oshitari's chest, one hand curled into a loose fist by his mouth and the other grasping his doubles partner's. Oshitari, flat on his back, has his other hand on Gakuto's head, fingers tangled in his scarlet hair. Both are sound asleep.
"I don't want to wake them up," Jirou whispers, hanging Gakuto's bag on the chair beside the bed, freezing when he knocks into the table, its legs dragging on the floor. Gakuto whimpers, scrunching his nose up and nudges closer to Oshitari, who hasn't moved an inch. Jirou is careful not to bump into anything as he returns to Atobe's side. They stand there for another minute, observing the two on the bed, and both of them jump when the bell rings, signalling the end of lunch period.
Oshitari stirs, mouth curving into a frown and Atobe realises it's probably best that they go. They leave the door ajar and Jirou smiles when Atobe takes his hand again.
"Ore-sama will walk to back to your class."
"You don't have to do that. Do you really have to use 'ore-sama' when you're talking to your boyfriend?" Jirou looks up at Atobe from under his eyelashes and Atobe swallows.
"Very well. I shall walk you back to your class. And I don't have to, but I want to."
Jirou squeezes his hand. "Thanks Atobe. You're the best boyfriend in the whole world!" He cries, punching the air for emphasis.
Atobe says nothing, but a blush slowly rises on his cheeks and Jirou smiles happily, swinging their joined hands. They'll both be late for their next lesson, But Atobe will smooth-talk Jirou out of any trouble. He's good at this.
But not as good as he is at kissing, Jirou decides. Atobe's very, very good at that. Especially good, because it makes his lips tingle and his heart flutter for ages afterwards. And Atobe only proves this point when he stops just in front of Jirou's homeroom class and kisses the breath out of him.
Jirou doesn't pay attention to anything in the next lesson, not when Atobe's taste is still on his tongue, his smell in his nose and the feel of his hand still imbued on his palm.
Being in love, Jirou decides, is a very good thing indeed.
I'm tempted to write about Jirou's 'several bad experiences' with mobile phones. I might consider it when I've finished this mini-series.