Oishi was usually the first to arrive in the mornings, so Tezuka was surprised to hear two different voices inside the clubroom. He paused at the door, listening. It didn't take a genius to figure out exactly who was in there and what they were doing.

"Stop, Fuji! I'm not joking- cut it out! No way am I drinking that!"

"But I like it."

"But you're you."

"So?"

"What do you mean, 'so' ? I'm the confused one. Why did you want to take a shower before?"

Fuji ignored Ryoma. "I'm hurt. Tezuka didn't mind…"

"Oh. Why did you have to bring Buchou into this? I don't see why-"

The door of the club room opened. They could go arguing forever and Tezuka had decided enough was enough.

"Oh, hello Tezuka." Fuji smiled and waved merrily at their stunned looking Buchou. Tezuka stared at Fuji and Ryoma who were sitting very close together on the bench. In towels. He coughed staring pointed at their close proximity.

Ryoma felt obligated to move an inch away from Fuji. But that was about it.

"It's not what it sounded like. I simply wanted Ryoma to try Inui's new juice." He held up the canister that smelled like radishes and dirty laundry.

"And I am not drinking that. Please, control him!" Ryoma turned wide begging eyes on Tezuka.

"You know, it's really unfortunate that I was the one to walk in here," Tezuka remarked. "If it were anyone else, they might have believed you."

"We thought you were Oishi," Fuji told him.

"He was busy. Apparently he and Eiji were in the middle of a fight."

"A fight." Ryoma smirked. "Okay, so what gave us away?"

"It's like you said Ryoma. You're you. So it obviously couldn't be anything innocent. I'm going to give you five minutes to let you two finish up."

"Oh, we're going to need longer than that that. You see, Ryoma has a hard time-"

Ryoma promtly turned scarlet. He clamped a hand over Fuji's mouth. "That's fine. Arigatou, Buchou," he said firmly. He waited until Tezuka was gone before jerking his hand away. "Ew, you didn't have to lick my palm."

"Would you rather I lick something else?"

Ryoma didn't comment on that. "I wonder what gave us away."

"We can't fool Buchou," Fuji concluded. "Him and his scary Buchou senses."

"Oh, come on. You don't actually believe that." Ryoma refused to admit to believing in super natural ability. "No, Fuji. It's because our hair isn't wet. And that,"he pointed to the bottle Fuji was still holding. "is Horio's cologne."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Now stop talking. We only have a few minutes. And I know you don't mind drinking Inui's juices, but you can't tell me you honestly enjoy running laps."

"But weren't you listening, Ryoma? We're allowed to be late. Tezuka himself gave us permission."

"Huh?"

"Didn't you hear?" Fuji smiled evily. Ryoma fought the instinct to back away. "We're us."

Tezuka laughed quietly to himself as he started to practice his serve. He bounced the ball a couple of times before throwing it up in the air. He served again and again until his shoulder ached. Then he walked to the water cooler, thinking. It seemed Ryoma's plan of cornering Fuji and seducing him had worked. Tezuka smiled. Fuji deserved someone equally devilish and troublesome as he was. And Tezuka could think of no one better than Ryoma. He thought of Sanada and then his thoughts jumped to Yukimura. He'd heard from Sanada that Yukimura was with Atobe. He chuckled. He couldn't wait to see how that worked out. Talk about trouble. And because he knew Fuji and Ryoma would take more than a couple minutes, Tezuka laughed out loud. If tennis didn't work out as his career, perhaps he should try match making.