Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer, I do not own Prince of Tennis in anyway nor am I profiting from writing this besides personal enjoyment and writing practice.
Note: I don't know what the heck Japanese people eat and I can't use chopsticks as possible "I'll stab you" thing so they're getting vague stuff and eating it with forks!
Chapter 6
"Hey, Jirou-sempai," Hiyoshi mumbled as he continued to stretch out again. The two had finished their meditating and Jirou had migrated to his bed where he sat with his ipod and a book he had to read for a class. Everyone on Hyotei, at least the regulars, knew Hiyoshi's routine; stretch, meditate, stretch, and then do whatever it is he does, stretch, shower.
"Hn?" Jirou asked as he pulled out a single earphone. He winced as he sat up a little to listen, his back was killing him again. He probably pulled a muscle while stretching. Jirou hated irony when it was about him.
"Thanks for the advice." Hiyoshi said it as if he was ashamed (which he probably was). The second year hates asking for advice because he feels weak when he does. Jirou could never fully understand that boy, he sometimes wondered how Ohtori could.
Jirou nodded and put his headphone back in. "No problem, I'm your elder, right?"
Hiyoshi smirked and extended the reach to his toes even farther. "Yeah."
The two went on in silence. Hiyoshi was finally doing something, silent kicking and punching mostly, while Jirou skimmed the book. He would just end up going by the movie anyways. It was some sappy romance and ten to one says Oshitari has a copy.
When the door opened both boys froze and looked up.
Crap, Atobe.
Atobe nodded to both boys and walked inside, slowly making his way to his bed. "Dinner is ready in case you're wondering. Everyone else is downstairs."
Hiyoshi frowned at his captain, the man he swore to beat one day. "Why aren't you?"
Atobe reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his laptop. "Work."
Hiyoshi rolled his eyes and walked to the door. He looked over his shoulder. "Aren't you coming, Jirou-sempai? You haven't had anything all day besides that apple."
Jirou shook his head, and then his stomach growled like a hungry lion on the hunt. Jirou gave a toothy, nervous grin and rolled to the side of the bed. "Maybe I'll go get something. Want me to bring you anything, Atobe?"
Atobe looked up from his laptop screen. "Um? Oh, no, I'll get something when I finish this."
Jirou knew better than to ask what "this" was. Last time he did he got yelled out, a trip on Kabaji's back, and one hell of a headache when the tall second year explained it to him. Jirou didn't know how Atobe, how Kabaji, understood that sort of thing. Ever since Atobe began to work on stocks and business proposals, his marks in math did increase, though.
By the time Jirou and Hiyoshi got to the kitchen everyone was already eating and talking. The two saw a young lady, the chef, in the kitchen as she continued to finish cleaning up.
"Oh, hello boys," she said with a warm smile. She wiped her hands with a rag and placed a pan back in one of the upper cabinets. "Dinner will be ready in a second, right now you can have as much bread and salad as you want, though."
The two boys nodded to her and gave her an equally warm smile. Hiyoshi sat next to Ohtori like always while Jirou sat next to Marui and Hiyoshi's other side.
After a couple of jokes the chef came over and placed a large plate of what appeared to be some sort of fish (Jirou couldn't tell with the way she plated it – it looked like the food they got whenever they were at Atobe's house) and something else that had an odd yellow color (that didn't look all that edible). She placed the same thing at the other end of the table as well. She bowed and then left the room.
"So, how was hide-and-seek?" Hiyoshi asked his tall friend. The table went dead silent. "Did I say something?"
Mukahi rolled his eyes and took another bit of that yellow stuff, apparently it was good. "I got stuck in a tree –go figure – and Momoshiro over there tried to hide when he was seeking, and half of us got covered in bear or rabbit shit and we couldn't use the shower because someone was in there."
Everyone looked at Jirou who was busy stuffing his mouth with food. He really didn't want to talk about it. When they got him out after picking the lock (locking it was not his best idea) it took another ten minutes to get him out. Every inch he screamed in pain; they ended up just carrying him, he was light enough.
"So… who one?" Hiyoshi asked, taking the hint that Jirou didn't want the attention on him.
Yukimura scuffed. "Obviously Rikkaidai, we found Fuji when he was behind that rock. Didn't we, Renji?"
"Actually," Yanagi began, "according to my data, Seigaku would have won."
"See, Rikkaidai did – What?! Let me see this so called 'data,'" Yukimura demanded. Who knew that he refused to lose at hide-and-seek, too?
"Actually, Renji, you can't win in hide-and-seek," Inui pointed out. The two just stared at each other as if they were having a telepathic, genius conversation.
Niou snorted. "Yeah, but if you could win Rikkaidai would've."
"No! Seigaku would've!" Eiji yelled.
Then the teams began to bicker and bitch back and forth. Tezuka, Sanada, and whoever else was sane and not immature like a monkey looked at Hiyoshi with faces that asked if the boy was insane. You never bring up winning in front of any of them, that's just common sense.
"Excuse me," Jirou said in the middle of the table's heated battle so no one heard or even noticed he left. He somehow got upstairs without any help for the first time all day and fell onto his bed. He winched and then heard, "Jirou?"
He looked up and saw Atobe sitting on his bed with his laptop.
Great, I forgot about Atobe (which is what I wanted to do), but I also forgot he was still up here. Juuuust great.
"Go get something to eat, you didn't eat a thing at breakfast and skipped lunch. Unless you count that banana, you haven't eaten anything all day. Besides," Jirou turned onto his side and let out a small sob as he finished talking, "they're talking about winning, you like fighting with Tezuka over silly crap like that."
His back really did hurt more than usual for some odd reason, probably because he fell off that chair when Atobe gave him a mini heart attack or that stretching. Jirou always got grumpy when his back hurt, something that bugged him more than his actually backache.
Atobe raised an eyebrow and closed his laptop. "Is it your back again?" Jirou nodded. Atobe sighed and walked over to his friend's bed. "Take off your shirt."
Jirou froze all movements, even his heart stopped for a second. He thought that he was dreaming so he pinched himself and yelped. He blinked a couple of times and Atobe was still standing at the edge of his bed.
"W-what?"
"Take off your shirt, I'll give you a massage again." Atobe sat next to Jirou who seemed to lose all of the intelligent thoughts in his head.
Jirou was now one hundred percent sure Atobe was trying to kill him by giving him multiple heart attacks in one day. As if walking in on him naked and having an almost wet dream about him wasn't enough!
"I'm fine, really. Besides, who knows, you might make it worse."
"I've done this before, Jirou." Atobe's tone changed to something slightly more serious. Jirou liked it when Atobe became serious because his voice went deeper (not that he would ever tell anyone that).
Jirou flinched when he felt Atobe's fingers under his shirt. It startled him for a second. Jirou really hated how straightforward his captain was at times like this. Jirou sat there like a rock as Atobe's ghostly touch trailed up higher on his back. A second later he felt his shirt bunch at his head and felt Atobe's fingers leave his back. Jirou was slightly sad that those long, elegant fingers weren't dancing along his back anymore.
"Lift your arms."
Jirou pulled his shirt off and got on his stomach. They had done this before; actually, they had done this quite a lot. Jirou refused to go to some chiropractor (Jirou isn't a big fan of doctors) so Atobe gave him weekly massages. Of course they stopped after Nationals because there was no need for Atobe to care about Jirou; they had lost, tennis was over, and he couldn't benefit from it anymore. That's what made Jirou confused, Atobe was helping him.
Jirou's face flushed again and nuzzled his face into a pillow and nodded, a sign that Atobe could start. A second later he felt Atobe roughly push on his lower back and work his way up. His touch was so familiar, yet so strange, to Jirou.
"Ow."
"Sorry, too hard?"
"Not hard enough…" Jirou mumbled as he grabbed his pillow and dug his face deeper into it.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
Atobe nodded and continued to work out the knots in Jirou's back with delicate, as well as rough, touches. Atobe tried so hard not to linger his touch just a little longer on Jirou's creamy skin. Sometimes, though he would never admit it, Atobe wondered who had ever touched Jirou like this. Surely Jirou was popular and had his fair share of dates, but had he ever gone that far? He had seen Jirou making out on the roof once or twice (he was not spying, he just wanted to make sure he wasn't going to sleep through a class), but it seemed the girls always started the kisses (not that he was spying).
"Done," Atobe said as he swung his legs off the bed. He didn't want to be done, though.
Jirou grabbed his arm before he could completely walk off. "My shoulders are still sore."
Atobe furrowed his brow in confusion, but his mind was screaming "Yes! Yes!" at the same time. "Since when do your shoulders hurt?"
"A couple weeks ago," Jirou lied.
Atobe nodded once and crawled back behind Jirou who sat up and arched his back towards Atobe. His shoulders didn't hurt, they never have either. Jirou hated to admit it, but he loved the feeling of Atobe's strong hands on his skin, just like Atobe loved the feeling of Jirou's silky skin under his hands.
"Here?" Atobe asked as he rubbed Jirou's shoulders. He shook his head. "What about… here?" He moved his hands closer towards Jirou's neck. He nodded and Atobe began to twist and rub his soft skin that had been slightly tanned from hours of practice in the sun.
"That feels really, really good." Jirou wanted to cover his mouth. He hadn't meant to say that aloud.
Atobe smirked and took his hands off the smaller boy's back. "Is it safe to assume that you're better?"
"Yeah, I am. Um… Atobe?"
Just tell him now and get done with it! It'll be a lot better if he knows!
"What is it?"
I can't do it! I'm a big fat chicken. A fat, fat, fat chicken!
Jirou turned around and smiled at him. "Thank you!" he said before quickly going out of the room to go to the bathroom and take another cool shower –he seemed to be taking a lot of those lately. Atobe rubbed the back of his head and let a breath out he forgot about before going back to his bed to continue working.
"Jirou!" Atobe yelled as he opened his laptop.
The blonde came back into the room with a bright red face. He grabbed his shirt and then quickly made another exit.
A/N: This chapter had the first hint that Atobe might have feelings for Jirou, or at least it has the first hint that he has a back fetish (which he doesn't). The next chapter screws Atobe's mind over big time though. I mean, I'm trying to get it so they're fourteen year old boys confused about their sexuality, freaking out over their future, and embarrassed about their feelings for their best friend. That doesn't happen overnight and there has to be a plot twist.
Oh, and I'm going back to school on the 25th so my posting will slow down A LOT. I'm trying to type as much as I can during the rest of my vacation, but I do have a life believe it or not so I'm sorry. Oh, and I'm not posting until at least Monday (my cousin is coming over until Sunday starting tomorrow). Oh, and I say "oh" too much.
I should go to bed now, it's 1am.
