Reviews: Appreciated. :D Thank you Lady Tenebrae for reviewing the last chapter. I'm happy you're enjoying reading such an odd couple :D
Satisfaction
Chapter 8
By Miki
Atobe flicked his pen over his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth, as he stared at the whiteboard.
The clock was ticking so slowly that he thought he was going to explode with impatience.
Back and forth, back and forth he flicked his pen, faster and faster until something hit him on the side of the head and he lost his grip on the pen.
It clattered to the floor noisily, and the teacher turned around, surveying the classroom for a moment, eyes narrowed behind square glasses.
As soon as she turned back around again, Atobe looked down at the thing that had hit him on the head and raised an eyebrow at a crumpled ball of paper.
He made sure to glare at Shishido, who didn't even have the decency to look ashamed at having thrown something at Ore-sama's head, and then quickly unfolded the paper before the teacher turned around to check again.
Problems with Yuu-chan already?
Atobe frowned, picked his pen off the floor disdainfully – really, it was a shame Kabaji wasn't here – and put his pen to the paper.
No, problems with you.
He tossed it back with an easy flick of his wrist.
Shishido looked too amused for his own good, Atobe thought, and stuck his nose up, turning his attention back to the whiteboard.
He made a mental note to give Shishido laps later. Ten would do.
Something hit his shoulder.
Atobe turned around quickly, shooting a withering glare at Shishido as he looked down and picked up another bit of paper.
"Shishido, did you actually aim for his head or can't you throw?" came a low chuckle, and Atobe looked across at Oshitari, pursing his lips.
"Shut up. Next time I'll throw it at your head."
"Ever enthusiastic for variety, I see."
"Your head is bigger anyway. Chances are I won't miss."
Atobe pointedly ignored the silly conversation going on next to him. His better judgement told him he didn't want to read this piece of paper, but he opened it anyway.
A moment later he'd decided that Shishido and Oshitari would be running laps today. If not for the rest of the week if he could help it.
(S)
Jirou plonked down next to Atobe on the bench, smiling at him and swinging his legs out in front of him.
"Um, Atobe?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think Shishido could stop running laps now?"
Atobe raised an eyebrow.
"I don't have anyone to play against," Jirou explained, and smiled hopefully.
Atobe looked around.
Hyotei's tennis club had more than two hundred members, and Jirou couldn't find anyone to play against?
He crossed his arms and frowned.
"Shishido can stop running laps when he apologises to Ore-sama."
Jirou's shoulders slumped. "But Atobe, how can he apologise when he's running like that?"
Atobe considered for a moment.
Quite frankly, Shishido had been asking for it. Oshitari was given laps as well, though not as many. He hadn't been intentionally hitting Ore-sama's hair, after all.
"Atobe…"
Atobe looked at Jirou, willing him to continue talking.
"Well, I was thinking…" Jirou began, and looked around as though to check for people listening in.
Kabaji was standing behind Atobe, but that was normal enough, and to Jirou, Kabaji might as well have made up the scenery.
Still, he scooted a little closer on the bench and whispered loudly.
"Do you need girl advice?"
Atobe snorted. "What gave you that idea?" he retorted automatically, his pride insulted by the very notion he'd ever need advice on girls, of all things.
Jirou looked around. "Er… Well, you know," he said carelessly, waving his arm around.
He couldn't really tell Atobe that it was because he'd been wondering why Shishido would have to do so many laps. He'd asked Oshitari if he knew, and Oshitari had replied with something to do with bets and odds on Tezuka and girls and pimples and bad-hair days. Jirou had asked why there weren't any odds on cheese.
Apparently Oshitari had his money on the mysterious Yuu-chan, and Shishido and Choutarou had agreed.
Jirou couldn't understand what the point was in betting if they were all betting on the same thing.
Anyway, Oshitari had mentioned something about Atobe just happening to see the odds going around the classroom and didn't think sticking money on any of them was appropriate.
Which was why Shishido was still running laps.
"I mean, because I was helpful about the mouse advice, right? And you even got to take your cheese to dinner, and I helped you with that too, didn't I?" Jirou continued, pressing his point.
Atobe gave a sigh. "Look, Jirou," he said, planning the next few sentences in his head carefully.
Jirou looked at him, expectant.
"There is no-" Atobe stopped abruptly.
"There is no what?" Jirou blinked.
Atobe had been about to tell him there was no cheese, no mouse and no girl, when he realised he couldn't.
"Nevermind," he grumbled, waving his hand.
"But it did go well, didn't it? Your date with the cheese?" Jirou persisted, leaning closer to his captain and looking up at him.
Atobe sighed again, flicking his hair. Frowning, he flicked it again.
It didn't feel right.
"Date? It wasn't a date," he responded, patting his hair and wondering what was wrong with it.
He pointedly ignored Jirou's wide-eyed look.
Unfortunately, he had neither the looks nor the character to copy Jirou's skill in that department. The few times he'd tried puppy-eyes, he'd ended up with bug eyes instead.
"It wasn't?"
"No, of course not."
"Just because I went out with another person and went out with only that person to a nice restaurant with nice food and so on," Atobe paused, "does not mean it was a date."
"But I thought you went out with your cheese."
Atobe put his fingers to his forehead.
"Jirou, go and tell Shishido to stop running now," he said, resigned to the fact that Shishido would escape his punishment so he could escape Jirou's interrogation for today.
Jirou was happy to comply, grinning and jumping off the bench. "Yes Atobe," he sung, bounding off in the direction of Shishido.
Atobe clasped his hand around his phone in his pocket.
The palm of his hand felt sweaty; clammy, and that nervous feeling was back in his stomach again.
There were twenty minutes until the end of Hyotei's practise.
Atobe ended up counting every one.
(S)
"Yuuta," Mizuki cooed, announcing his appearance by opening the door as wide as possible and then leaning against the doorway. "Need any help?"
"Mi – Mizuki-san!" Yuuta spluttered, his face turning bright red.
Pants around his ankles, he looked up at the other boys in the corridor.
They looked back.
"I can see I arrived just in the nick of time…" Mizuki chuckled, lips curling in a rather disturbing way. "Your boxers don't match your socks, Yuuta."
In perfect coordination, every set of eyes in the corridor looked at Yuuta's boxers, at his socks and at his boxers again.
Yuuta gaped helplessly.
"Shut the door Mizuki!!!"
(S)
Atobe tapped a finger on his arm rest and looked out of the limousine's window at St Rudolph's dormitory.
Being early was for losers, and people who had nothing better to do with their time.
He was never early.
So he sat and tapped his finger until his watch ticked past 6 pm.
Then he sat for another two minutes, just in case Yuuta's clock was one that ran slowly – he couldn't have Yuuta thinking he was actually there on time, because that would defeat the purpose – and ordered his driver to pull the limousine up closer to the kerb, where he could get out without having to step onto the road first.
A moment later, door opened, hair flicked and shoes shining, Atobe walked to the lobby of the dormitory.
(S)
"Yuuta," Mizuki pouted, "you can stop looking grumpy now."
Yuuta glared at him. "You'd be grumpy too if the whole damn building saw you in your underwear!" he hissed, cheeks still pink with embarrassment.
"No I wouldn't." Mizuki raised an eyebrow and sat back, away from Yuuta. "I'm wearing Calvin Klein. Want to see?"
"No!" Yuuta shouted out quickly. "I mean," he corrected, as people turned to look, "I think I'll pass."
He really, really didn't want to see Mizuki's boxer shorts. Really, he didn't.
"Really? Too bad," Mizuki chuckled, amused.
They sat in silence for a moment, both watching the doors from the chairs in the lobby.
Mizuki was here to supervise, apparently. His mood had been swinging between good and bad all afternoon, and Yuuta wasn't quite game enough to ask why.
Yuuta was here… Well, he wasn't really sure why he was actually here at all.
He'd been wondering why he hadn't just told Atobe no, or refused to call him back, but then Atobe would probably have come marching in and dragged him out again.
Yuuta wasn't really keen to repeat that part.
And besides, dinner couldn't hurt.
Unless it was snails, Yuuta thought with a shudder.
At the sound of the doors opening, he looked up quickly, half relieved to see Atobe walking in.
"Yuuta," he greeted, eyeing Mizuki with annoyance.
"How nice of you to drop by, Atobe," he purred, before Yuuta even had a chance to open his mouth. He reached over and gripped Yuuta's wrist, taking him by surprise.
"It would be nicer if you weren't here," Atobe replied quickly, wishing Yuuta would be quick about leaving today. He eyed Mizuki's hand on Yuuta's wrist and stepped closer to Yuuta, holding out his hand.
"I'm sure the feeling is absolutely mutual," Mizuki chuckled, radiating a smile that made Atobe's hair stand on end.
Atobe smiled back.
"Mizuki-san," Yuuta said weakly, trying to pry off his manager's hand. "I can't go out if you don't let go."
"Well, that is the idea, Yuuta," Mizuki smiled, not taking his eyes off Atobe.
Atobe Keigo was not an unworthy adversary, he mused. Certainly unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.
It was necessary, of course, to have adversaries in order to prove to everyone else exactly how wonderful you were when you beat them all.
He was about to let Yuuta's wrist go when a sudden noise startled them all.
Yuuta's phone was ringing.
He pulled it from his pocket with his spare hand – the one Mizuki wasn't cutting off the blood flow to – and answered it quickly.
"Aniki…"
Atobe looked at Mizuki.
Mizuki looked at Atobe.
Here was something they could agree on.
(S)
Atobe dropped down onto the back seat and shot a glare at Yuuta.
"You've wrinkled Ore-sama's shirt," he accused, examining the shirt in question and frowning at the barely-visible wrinkles in the material.
Yuuta gave a blank look in return. "It was going to get wrinkled anyway."
Atobe sniffed disdainfully, miffed that Yuuta had had the disregard for his shirt to grab him by the arm and drag him to the vehicle.
Ore-sama was not someone to be dragged. It was terribly undignified, and he was glad there was no one of actual importance here to see it or he'd surely have died of embarrassment.
He watched Yuuta rub at his wrist a bit, and wondered if Mizuki gripped him the same way he gripped a racquet.
It looked like it had been uncomfortable.
"Where are we going?" Yuuta asked, shifting around in his seat a little as the vehicle began to move.
Atobe smirked. This was his territory.
"You'll know when we get there," he responded, amused at the scowl of annoyance that crossed Yuuta's face.
"I hope there aren't any snails," Yuuta muttered under his breath.
"What?" Atobe asked, frowning.
"Nothing."
Atobe raised an eyebrow, but Yuuta refused to elaborate.
Sighing, Atobe crossed his arms. "While we're at it, I hope you're going to tell me why you weren't available yesterday," he demanded, a feeling of irritation returning to him.
Yuuta had better not have been out with Fuji or Mizuki or anyone else for that matter. Bumping their dinner to Tuesday had been bad enough, but if he'd done it for anyone else it would have been criminal.
Yuuta's cheeks looked rather pink.
"Does it matter?"
Atobe snorted. "Of course it matters," he responded, frowning. "I had a reservation booked for Monday and I had to change it."
Yuuta seemed to hesitate for a moment.
Atobe waited.
"I had to see my English teacher."
"See her? What for?"
Yuuta smiled a little, wishing he could avoid answering the question.
"Um… Well, you know. She wanted to see me in her office…"
"Why Monday?"
Yuuta looked uncomfortable. "Well I couldn't tell her no, could I? She's my teacher."
Atobe rolled his eyes. "Who's more important? Ore-sama or your teacher?"
Yuuta gave Atobe a deadpanned look. "Am I supposed to answer that?"
Atobe blinked, confused for a moment. "Well, it's a question. Why wouldn't you answer it?"
Yuuta turned his head toward the window, trying to hide his amusement.
He couldn't help but wonder why Atobe never saw the silliness of his own questions.
Maybe he'd grown up in an environment with lots of pushovers or something. Maybe he'd been born with the ability to charm people off their feet. Maybe he was just good at brainwashing. Remembering the Hyotei fans at their tennis matches, Yuuta was more than willing to believe it.
That guy who usually followed him around a lot was weird like that too. He was kind of like… A lapdog, almost.
But an oversized one.
If he sat in Atobe's lap, he'd probably squash him.
Yuuta couldn't help imagining it, and he snuck a glance at Atobe, suddenly wanting to laugh.
Oh. This was really ridiculous.
He couldn't believe he was sitting in a limousine with Atobe Keigo.
Again.
"Are you laughing at Ore-sama?" Atobe asked suddenly, frowning as he watched Yuuta struggling to keep a straight face.
"No," Yuuta answered, the twitch at the corner of his lips becoming even worse.
"You are," Atobe said loudly, insulted.
"Am not."
"You are! I can see you!" Atobe protested, and for a moment, he looked so utterly childish that Yuuta just grinned.
It was all he could do not to burst into laughter.
(S)
"You can stop laughing at Ore-sama now," Atobe snapped, flicking his menu in front of him.
"Okay," Yuuta said, and dipped his head, raising his menu up so he could hide behind it.
Atobe shot him a withering glare, though it didn't really have any effect because Yuuta wasn't looking at him at all, and he felt silly glaring at the menu.
He was sure people were looking at them, and not for the right reasons at all.
A moment later, Yuuta raised his head again.
Atobe raised an eyebrow at Yuuta's expression.
He was looking rather sheepish now, and Atobe hoped it was because he'd realised the error of his ways and was about to apologise.
On his knees.
"Um…" Yuuta began, and Atobe placed his hands in front of him on the table.
"Yes, Yuuta?"
Yuuta's cheeks were turning pink.
"What?"
"Er… Well, I can't…"
"You can't what?"
"I can't read the menu."
Atobe stared at his dinner companion for a moment and wondered what on earth had compelled him to ask Fuji Yuuta to dinner for a second time.
"What? They don't teach you German at St Rudolph either?"
Yuuta rubbed his head, eyes avoiding meeting Atobe's. "No… Not really."
Atobe gave a dramatic sigh and tapped his finger on his menu.
"I'm only going to say it once," he warned, watching Yuuta perk up.
Atobe cleared his throat and began at the top.
(S)
By the time Atobe had finished, Yuuta wanted to skip the entrées and mains and go straight to dessert. He couldn't actually remember anything other than the Apple Strudel anyway, but at least there were no snails here.
Austrian cuisine was apparently edible.
"Yuuta."
"Huh?"
"I asked you," Atobe repeated, "if you're ready to order."
Yuuta looked around and noticed a waiter hovering a few tables away and watching them.
He gave a nod, and suddenly felt really, really glad Atobe hadn't called the waiter over to read the menu this time.
Atobe hadn't actually had to do that himself, Yuuta realised, propping his chin on his hand and looking away from the other boy.
Actually…
Really…
"I'll take that as a yes," Atobe sighed, and Yuuta snapped back to reality, immediately removing his elbow from the table – Yumiko would tell him off if she could see him – and nodding.
Then, before the waiter came over, he bowed his head.
"Th – Thank you for reading the menu for me… Atobe-san."
Atobe felt surprised for a moment, a strange little thrill going through him as he heard his name from Yuuta's lips.
As Yuuta looked up again, Atobe quickly looked away, waving the waiter over.
(S)
"Um… Are you okay?" Yuuta asked awkwardly, fiddling with his fork as the waiter left a moment later.
Atobe looked at him quickly, confused. Why wouldn't he be okay?
"It's just… I mean, from here, it looks like your face is… kind of red," Yuuta stumbled out, embarrassed enough to put his arm behind his head and laugh a little.
"Well it's not," Atobe returned quickly. Then, for good measure, he added "You should get your eyes checked."
Still, he self consciously risked a glance in the window's reflection and was horrified to realise Yuuta was right.
Apparently blushes were catching.
.tbc.