Disclaimer: See first installment.
Warnings: See first installment. Also including a few sporadic cases of swearing with this update... and as many unannounced third person point of view changes I can bounce. Be prepared.
Author's Notes: Apologies to all those of you patiently waiting for your dose of OT5 crack. Was out of the country for the majority of my summer vacation, and found shiny new things to be distracted by. Not to mention I'd been faced with the most obnoxious writer's block for a few months (giving each member of the OT5 decent/equal amount focus is HARD). But am obviously back and still writing for my pet-fivesome. ;D I even went back and revised bits and pieces of the first part to make it flow better. Ah, and I suppose people would appreciate knowing that this will be a three part story with the third part already well under way... which is a good thing for myself since I'm otherwise being horribly distracted by a horde of Hanakimi muses and a NejiSasu muse to boot. X3
Certification of Sanitation - 2
by kasugai gummie
It takes two to tango. Three to crowd. Four to party. And five to orgy.
"Would you like fries with that?"
Atobe looked ready to sue the livelihood out of the helpless cashier. "No, Ore-sama would not like an order of your appalling mass-produced potato products. In fact, Ore-sama believes that such garbage, most probably artificial and from a box, then reprocessed in animal fat is—"
He would've said more, bled a little healthier sense into the plebian shying away from his commanding presence. Unfortunately somebody decided that the insignificant peon needed some saving from the Divine Wrath of Atobe, and placed a restraining hand over his mouth.
Atobe stiffened in outrage before registering the familiar fingertip calluses of their resident photographer.
But Fuji had been a little slow in silencing Atobe. Whether intentional or not, the palatable delay between Atobe's next word and Fuji's hand coming up to cut it off was enough for Ryoma to mentally sentence their most sadistic boyfriend to a week of changing Karupin's litter box. He was hungry, damn it, and Fuji's amusement stemming from the cashier's unholy fear of Atobe was detracting from his own entertainment plans—of which included force feeding, the Monkey King, and a Big Wac.
Ryoma continued to stare, alternating between Fuji and Atobe. He suppose he should be somewhat grateful that the trip to the fast-food joint was uninterrupted by any more complaints. In fact, the group of five had even managed to enter through the finger-print smudged doors, claimed a tacky-plastic booth, and lined up behind a teenage babysitter and her troup of squalling charges to order without so much an (audible) whimper.
But Ryoma, being Ryoma, wasn't grateful.
Having experienced Sanada's unflattering reaction to their neighbor's grandchildren, Atobe's "I am God's gift to man-kind" Saturday morning personality ritual, Fuji's random acts of smiling terror, and Tezuka's Spartan-like methods of ridding annoyances for the past few years, he'd came away with the knowledge that Good Things did not come without a token of Bad Things.
Like "just then" and "right now."
Barely one minute after reviewing the visually disorienting menus had passed before their night out together faced imminent doom courtesy of the one-man resistance group known as Atobe Keigo.
Tezuka must've noticed the dark cloud of displeasure that broiled above Ryoma's head and took it upon himself to prevent any imminent bodily damage to the diva and prodigy. Ryoma usually couldn't do too much to Atobe—given the difference in size of course. But for Fuji who was only so much taller than their youngest, and of the same body build as the slight but physically more active Echizen... well, when Fuji was put out of commission (read: couldn't participate in unmentionable activities), nobody was safe from whatever retribution he wanted to exact.
"Sy—Fuji," Tezuka warned, pulling a stiff and displeased, but silent, Atobe away from the counter and towards Sanada whose expression didn't change aside from the quick roll of his eyes skyward. "Sanada, please escort Atobe-sama back to our table," Tezuka continued, relying on the memory of the last time he accidentally provoked more than two of his lovers at a time to crush the urge to dish out punishment laps with a vengeance and blind eye.
On hindsight, it really wasn't funny, no matter how much Fuji Syuusuke would beg to differ.
The one and only time Tezuka uttered something along the lines of "Ryoma! Keigo! Genichirou! Twenty laps around the parking lot!" had degenerated into one of the ugliest spats Fuji ever had the pleasure of recording for his film documentary project. The former tennis captain also learned from that day on that certain overbearing habits were to be suppressed if a co-existence and working relationship with two other former tennis club captains, co-captain, and prodigy were to continue as a non-liability.
But even the week of being shoved out of bed and onto the floor at five-o'clock a.m. sharp didn't stop him from laying thick the "captain-presence" when it came to damage control and Fuji.
Said fair-haired man tilted his head to one side when he finally acknowledged the departure of one very outraged Atobe and the oppressive vibes coming from both former captain and former kouhai on either side.
And Fuji, being the clever prodigy he was, got the message.
"Aah..." The apologetic smile Fuji flashed was anything but sincere and yet it seemed to return some semblance of non-quailing-at-the-sight-of-a-customer into the cashier. "We'll have four sides of fries. Three medium, one small."
The smile grew wider.
"Sorry for all the inconvenience."
Word of the "psycho, code one dinner party" flew rampant within the kitchens of WcDonalds like dirty, tabloid news. But upon receiving their order of some odd Big Wacs, Wac Salads, fries, and assorted beverages, the group more-or-less behaved.
That is, they maintained the public peace until Atobe found a strand of light brown hair nestled among the pile of extra lettuce leaves that came with his Big Wac. He'd been eyeing the sandwich with something akin to disgust prior to his little discovery. His expression afterwards came closer to "unrestrained and unmitigated horror."
Ryoma continued to eat his burger as if the ominous pressure increasing at an alarming rate to his right was anything but dangerous.
Fuji leaned over, teasing, and stole a sip of the younger boy's milkshake, also seemingly oblivious to the danger that was an offended Atobe.
Ryoma sniffed, irritated, before stealing a sip out of Sanada's cup—only to be reminded that the former Rikkaidai vice-captain had ordered tea.
Sanada rolled his eyes… and tried his hardest not to make eye contact with a very-much outraged Atobe Keigo.
"Excuse me." The words weren't so much a request as they were an order.
Sanada glanced over at Atobe's stiff and rigid profile. He'd had to have a word with Fuji and Ryoma later, but for now, he had damage control duties with Tezuka to attend to.
"Aa? Where are you going Keigo?" Fuji asked with mock concern on full throttle. "You haven't even touched your Big Wac yet." He took a bite out of his own, perpetual smile shifting into what the other four had christened his post-coital smirk.
Atobe looked positively sick.
"We're all adults here. Can we please act our age?" Tezuka pinched the bridge of his nose, trying his hardest to stay the status quo while ignoring Sanada's muffled snort of derision and the twin Cheshire grins shared by Fuji and Ryoma. "Keigo, sit down. Forget the burger and eat your salad so we can go home and pretend this never happened."
Atobe's dark eyes narrowed into slits. "Not until I see their certificate that states they passed the fucking sanitation inspection."
"Language Monkey King," Ryoma drawled from around a heavily salted fry. He nodded towards a middle-aged mother who had looked up startled and scandalized.
However, Atobe looked rather scandalized himself. Jerking out of Sanada's restraining grasp (with a snapped threat of "I'll make you sleep in the kitchen AND cut down on our tango sessions,") he pushed himself out of the booth and started stalking, for lack of a better term, towards the back of the establishment.
They all sat in silence, a background din of excited chatter and eating lulling the senses as they waited...
"H-Hey! Now, wait a minute…"
"W-WHO ARE YOU? STOP! YOU CAN'T COME BACK HERE! WAIT! YOU CAN'T GO BACK THERE EITHER!"
"OH MY GOD WHERE DID HE COME FROM?"
"HEY! I SAID WAIT YOU FUCKING PANSY!"
The following hush that shuddered through the entire restaurant was a little foreboding, if not completely ominous.
Ryoma looked up from where he was studiously swiping Fuji's fries when the incoherent screaming began, a look of vague surprise stealing over his otherwise bored features. Tawny eyes slid over the rest of his boyfriends' varying expressions, coolly evaluating the situation (or what remained of it after its regression).
Tezuka and Sanada were already half-out of their seats when his not-so-quietly spoken words stopped them in mid-step.
"You just HAD to put your hair into the Monkey King's sandwich, didn't you Syuusuke?"
End Chapter 2
Completed: 08/03/05
Revised: 08/05/05