A/N: I know, I know – so long from the last update! Ugh, sorry guys, I've been so busy. But hey, it's summer break now, so I'll have plenty of time – never fear, my dear, lovely readers. I hope you know that I cherish each and every one of the reviews you guys leave me, and feedback is always really important to me. So drop a review – or I'd love to even talk about fanfictions and such with you if you PM me, or something! Haha!

This chapter's a little shorter than usual, but the plot starts to pick up, and longer chapters, too!

Disclaimer: I do not own PoT.

Sunday morning found Nanao seated at what was, apparently, the regulars' weekly morning tea at the Atobe estate. A large umbrella loomed over their heads as they ate at the ornately wrought metal table – fashioned, of course, in a rectangle, just so that Atobe could claim the 'head' seat. Nanao sat to his right, and Oshitari to his left, and the rest of the regulars had assembled themselves haphazardly throughout the remaining seats.

Nanao sipped at her tea.

She also glanced surreptitiously at the strange ensemble before her: Oshitari-kun, nose buried in his book as usual – until Mukahi-kun latched onto his arm, bright tufts of red hair nuzzling at Oshitari's cheeks. Kabaji chewed sternly upon a piece of bread, right beside Hiyoshi, who applied jam to a slice of bread with an uncanny sort of precision for such a simple act; Choutarou smiled lightly as he mixed a bit of milk into his tea, all the while listening attentively to whatever it was Shishido grumbled. And Atobe? He, well-

"Stop looking so petrified, Nanao – it's just morning tea," he demanded, loudly, imperiously, and peered over his black shades to send her a raised brow. Nanao laughed hesitantly.

"Right."

She reached forward, pale, thin fingers outstretched towards the fine china-

Clang!

The cup rattled along with the rest of the table, and Nanao snatched back her hand with wide eyes and quivering lips. What had just-? She glanced sideways just in time to catch the vision of a splatter of jam sliding slowly down Shishido's throat and onto his shirt. Gakuto, from two seats away, cackled, the jam knife waved merrily about in the air-

-and Shishido was snarling and turning scarlet and rushing across the table faster than Choutarou could reach out to stop him-

-Oshitari gave them a passing glance, before peering back at the book, despite Gakuto's cries of "Yuuushiiii! Save meeeeee! This brute is going to kill me-!"-

-the table rattled again as Shishido reached Gakuto – whereupon Gakuto leaped onto the table with an impressive agility-

-the sunlight glinted off of Atobe's sunglasses, and from a distance, Nanao heard a quiet, murmured 'gekokujo'-

-Shishido caught Gakuto by the hem of his shirt, and the smaller boy went tumbling down, knees crashing into the butter and hand sliding along into the delicate pastries-

-Nanao let out a squeal when Gakuto's fumbling hand pushed the cup of tea onto her lap (thank goodness it had cooled-

Snap!

And suddenly, everything screeched to a standstill. Kabaji had, in a surprising display of speed, rushed forward and swept Gakuto off the table with one arm, and held him dangling several feet off the air. Shishido now clutched at nothing. Choutarou mourned the mess with a devastated expression, Hiyoshi sighed, and Oshitari had yet to look up from his book.

Atobe's hand was still in mid-snap. The sun gleamed off of his glasses once more.

"Can you uncivilized ruffians not enjoy one peaceful morning tea? We've been attempting a successful tea since first year of junior high, you mongrels," Atobe murmured, in a long-suffering sigh.

Gakuto rolled his eyes, before sticking his tongue out at Atobe.

"Gakuto, shove that offending muscle back inside your mouth. And Nanao-"

Nanao snapped to attention. "Y-Yeah?"

"The maid will show you to the restroom, and supply you with a fresh change of clothes."

"…R-Right-"

And as she stumbled out of her chair to follow the directed maid, Nanao couldn't help but to pause. "Attempting tea since first year of junior high-"? Did that mean that, for the past five years, not one tea time had passed peacefully?

Nanao's eyes widened at the horrific realization that she would, most likely, be expected to sit in on these weekly mornings from now on.

Hyotei Gakuen allotted an hour's period each day for 'study hall' – students in clubs participated in club activities, and the remaining student body were supposed to busy themselves with studying for whatever it was they desired; usually, though, they simply ended up chatting and roaming the campus. Nanao, as the vice president of the student council, often relegated herself to the council room in order to finish the vast piles of paperwork that the president neglected. The room was usually empty, save herself, and the luxurious pieces of upholstery oriented about its interior.

Nimble fingers had just finished carefully placing the student council's seal of approval onto a club application, when the door opened and closed swiftly with a loud bang. Nanao heard the click of the door lock before she could swivel her head around from her seat on the sofa to check who the visitor was.

When she did, she found Atobe, crossing the room in large strides until he stood directly beside her. Nanao blinked and lips parted to ask "What are you doing here?" Just as she did, the tall boy promptly draped himself across the sofa, and his head fell softly into her lap, eyes closed.

Nanao stilled for a moment, before her fingers came to prod at his closed eyelids. "I said, what are you doing here, Keigo?"

"Tennis practice was cancelled today; some moron lost control of the hose, and now the courts are doused in puddles of water."

Nanao hummed, before: "But why are you here?"

She saw one cobalt eye crack open to give her a disapproving glance, not unlike the ones tired mothers gave their persistent children when they asked too many questions. Nanao pursed her lips, and had been about to pinch the bridge of his nose-

-when she heard a thundering of heels down the hall just outside the door, and squeals and giggles and-

Nanao glanced down at the grimace that flitted over Keigo's expression.

Ohhh.

And then, she had to fight down the urge to laugh – now that tennis practice was cancelled, and he was no longer safely behind the tennis gates, the fangirls had direct access to their beloved 'Atobe-sama.' Strange, though. Nanao would have figured Atobe the type to have loved the opportunity to preen to the masses-

-then again, the girls did get quite out of hand, sometimes. She supposed that Keigo deserved a rest.

So with a wry smile, Nanao patted his forehead softly, and brushed a stray hand through his hair before picking up another club application. "I hope you know that really, you're not allowed in here," she murmured, though in a perfectly soothing tone.

"I'm the president."

The papers in her hands rustled.

"The ex-president," Nanao corrected.

"I will always be the president, commoner."

Nanao pinched the bridge of Atobe's nose, and pretended to study the club application form when Atobe's eyes momentarily opened to narrow at her.

"You can nap – I'll wake you up in time for class."

When Oshitari used his spare key to enter the council room in an effort to retrieve Atobe for their class – soon to start – he found, instead, Nanao working quietly on the sofa, with a lightly dozing Atobe in her lap. She hadn't noticed his quiet entry yet, so he took the opportunity to observe the two behind glinting glasses. A small smile spread on his lips.

Suzuki-san and Keigo had, needless to say, progressed into a sort of enviably comfortable companionship that surprised even Oshitari. They were purely platonic on every possible level, which seemed to be for the best, given that they were constantly expected to hold hands or brush shoulders or even, occasionally, share a hug or two in public.

It seemed that if only due to Suzuki-san's tactless blunt nature, as well as the circumstances under their first meeting, that Keigo often found himself being completely, brutally honest in return, nevermind the normal charm and suave mannerisms he usually carried. And Oshitari, Oshitari found himself liking this Keigo – this refreshing, always-pertinently-honest Keigo, who felt free to snort and act childish and-

-well, he always acted that way around the team anyway, but it was nice to see him being honest in front of an outsider, too. Oshitari liked the Keigo that popped up when he was around Suzuki-san. And that meant, by extension, he quite liked Suzuki-san, too.

He walked forward, then, and cleared his throat.

Subtle.

Nanao's head swiveled, and she greeted him with a smile and a wave of her hand, which currently held a club application in its grasp. Oshitari pointed at his wristwatch, at which point Nanao's eyes widened in recognition. He saw her pat Keigo's arm lightly.

He roused immediately, eyes blinking as though he hadn't even been asleep. (Oshitari had always found his ability to wake up immediately into full alert a bit unnerving). Atobe paused for a moment, glanced at Nanao, peered at Oshitari, and sat up smoothly. Nanao reached over to place the papers on the table and stopped when Atobe leaned in, and for a few minutes, the two shared quiet, murmured words too low for Oshitari to overhear.

It came to an end as Nanao passed Atobe a dry stare, and Atobe's lips broke out into a smirk.

Oshitari watched it all with a smile – did they even realize, he wondered, how effortlessly close they'd become?

"Yuushi, that smile of yours is terribly unbecoming, and borderline creepy – cease it at once."

Oshitari's smile widened.

"Why, I've a muscle condition – how insensitive of you, Keigo darling."

"Muscle condition, my ass."

"Such crude language."

"I've known you for nearly 6 years now, Yuushi – the only condition you've ever had is your impulse to mentally size up the measurements of girls."

"I never took you to be ignorant and cruel of others' disabilities."

"Yuushi, shut up."

"You're a heartless monster."

"God, you're incorrigible."

"Ah, finally, a compliment-"

Nanao simply laughed.

The following Wednesday found Nanao, Oshitari and Atobe in the private Atobe library once more. This time, though-

Nanao fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat, but kept her eyes glued to the textbook's print open in her lap. To the seat left of her, Oshitari read yet another romance novel, unruffled as ever. In front of her sat Atobe – who, from his grim expression, could have been mistaken for someone who'd just lost their tenth child in war. As was his habit (as Nanao had learned) when angry, he typed furiously away at his laptop, to the point where Nanao feared for its durability.

Nanao peered carefully over the edge of her book, and parted her lips as if to say something- but caught the warning glance of Oshitari over the edge of his own book, and quelled.

Keigo had been in a bad, bad mood ever since the two had come over that morning. He wouldn't breathe a word to either of them, about anything, and though it seemed that Oshitari-kun had probably figured out what had happened, Nanao was left scrambling for any semblance of an idea.

A few more minutes passed in tense, angry silence, before-

"The sir would like to see you in his study, Keigo-bocchama."

Nanao froze, and eyes darted to the butler at the door. She peered back at Atobe. She found him completely still, and could positively feel the ire rolling off of his shoulder in waves; she hesitated to say something, but once more lost her nerve when she saw the look in his eyes.

At last, Atobe stood, and stormed out the room.

Nanao only breathed a sigh of relief when the door slammed shut. She let her book drop onto the desk, and plopped her cheek down on it, too, facing Oshitari. "What was that?" she asked, lips pursed wryly, concern shimmering lightly in round, inquisitive eyes.

Oshitari finally understood by what Keigo meant when he grumbled about 'those damn fucking eyes look like they're rummaging for answers all the time.'

"Most likely his father."

Short, succinct, and hopefully, she won't dig further.

"Oh. I see."

She didn't.

"Hey, Oshitari-kun?"

Pause.

"Yes?"

"Why do you like those romance novels so much?"

Ah – perhaps she was catching on to social nuances. Changing the subject – very nice. Oshitari supposed he'd play along, too; he set down his book, and smiled at Nanao whilst turning to face her directly. Nanao blinked, offering a hesitant smile of her own. "Because – they're enjoyable."

"But why, though? Aren't there plenty of other genres?"

Oshitari's smile grew a tad wider, and for some reason, Nanao's heart skipped a beat when he leaned in slightly. "Well, see, Suzuki-san – romance novels are fascinating for their supposed insight into the human psyche. The nature of humans when they are presented with overwhelming hormones, emotions, and irrational reactions to said agents."

"Did you know, Suzuki-san? Supposedly, when one likes another emotionally, a physical reaction follows, too – the quickening of the heartbeat. Flushed skin. Perspiration glands pushed into overdrive. I'm sure you know, the usual."

Nanao's eyes widened.

"Ah – do you feel that way, perhaps, when Keigo's hand brushes yours?"

"Um. No."

Oshitari laughed, and swept up from his seat. "That's a pity. Well- I'll go exchange this book for another, if you'll excuse me for a moment."

And when he slid past her, his knuckles grazed Nanao's shoulder – and she could swear, in that moment, her heart had sprung wings.

READ. AND REVIEW? :D