Title: The Imperial Palace Chapter 9
Setting: Strip Club AU.
Rating: T for Tennis.
Reason: I'm finally back from my internet-less vacation to Europe. Time to write.
Pairing: Hints of many pairings.
Warnings: Uncreative content, possible OOC-ness, new ship alert, ecstasy, everyone's an alpha pair shipper except Oshitari etc.
Disclaimer: Prince of tennis is not and will never be mine.
~o~o~o~
Out of all the jobs Shiraishi has had in his life, he thought this one was the best.
While many might scorn and sneer at him whenever he revealed what his occupation was, Shiraishi liked his job far too much to even think about quitting. He had made many new friends working at the Imperial Palace, and he was able to spend his nights partying and dancing while getting paid for it.
Yes, being an erotic dancer definitely had its perks in Shiraishi's opinion.
However, there was one thing he would definitely change about it, Shiraishi thought as he saw the new outfit they were supposed to wear that night. Atobe had finally grown tired of the military uniforms and now had a whole different theme. Leaving a phase and starting another was Atobe's specialty. But regardless of what the theme was, Shiraishi simply did not see the point of putting on outfits when they were going to be stripped off soon anyways.
"Must we wear this?" asked Shiraishi, holding up something frilly. Really, he would have been fine just doing his job without clothes. Wasn't it the point of being an exotic dancer?
Fuji smiled. "Yes we do, you exhibitionist," he said. Apparently the frilly thing Shiraishi was holding was an apron. Fuji had already put on the whole attire. It was a French maid outfit, short and revealing as usual, complete with some silly hairpiece and thigh-high stockings. Shiraishi was pretty sure it would not look good on him. Leave it to Fuji to be able to work every ridiculous outfit without a problem. It almost seemed as if Fuji enjoyed dressing up.
Shiraishi sunk further into gloom when he uncovered his entire outfit. He was definitely not going to look good in that.
Fuji giggled. The brunette couldn't wait to try out his new dance routine in this. Tezuka was going to love it.
"Well, I decided. I'm not going to wear this," announced Shiraishi. "It blocks my ecstasy."
"Oh?"
Shiraishi put the clothes back in their box. The only thing he kept was the apron, since the club had a policy of not going out fully naked, which Shiraishi had to learn the hard way a few months back.
Fuji looked fairly amused. "You're just gonna wear the apron?" he asked.
"Yup," beamed Shiraishi. "Can you help me tie it in the back?"
Fuji did just that, knotting the apron around Shiraishi's naked back. "Good luck dealing with Atobe-san when he sees you," said Fuji. "If you're lucky, maybe Atobe-san will simply faint on the spot."
"But it is so much better like this!" exclaimed Shiraishi. "It shows off much more of my body and isn't uncomfortable to walk in. This is ecstasy!"
"Yes, yes," nodded Fuji. "By the way, do you know where Yukimura is? He's scheduled today."
They both looked around and realized that indeed Yukimura was not there. That was odd. Yukimura was never late. In fact, Yukimura was usually the first to arrive.
"I'm sure he'll be here soon," said Shiraishi. "Perhaps we are just a bit too impatient and eager to hear about how his date went." Fuji smiled at that. "Don't worry Fuji, you'll get to interrogate him plenty later."
They both looked at themselves in the mirror one final time before leaving their changing room. Shiraishi was dead serious about keeping only the apron on and Fuji had a feeling that Shiraishi would definitely be getting more customers tonight because of it… until Atobe found out at least.
People were already filing in even if the doors had only been open for a few minutes. Fuji sneaked a look through the curtain, seeing quite a crowd entering. Today was going to be really busy, he thought. He scanned the crowd quickly, recognizing a few regulars and mentally planning out which tables and groups he could stop by to make the most tips.
And then Fuji saw someone familiar come in. He turned to Shiraishi. "Your secret admirer is here tonight, Shiraishi," said the brunette.
Shiraishi pushed past Fuji to gaze at the crowd of clients. He frowned once he saw who Fuji meant. The boy was easy to spot, with those messy black curls and small figure… an undoubtedly too-small-to-be-in-a-strip-club figure in his opinion.
"Why does he keep coming?" asked Shiraishi as if Fuji knew the answer. "Just look at him! Is the bouncer blind or are we now letting underage kids in on purpose?"
"It's alright. Teenagers will always sneak into clubs early. It's normal human curiosity," said Fuji. "You should be flattered that he keeps coming in just to see you."
Shiraishi sighed. "Don't assume he comes to see me. He's never even spoken to me."
The young boy with the curly black hair did indeed come often. And every time he came, the boy would sit at a table, alone and watch Shiraishi. The boy didn't talk or ask him for a dance; he only stared at Shiraishi in silent. Shiraishi didn't really mind. A lot of people stared and Shiraishi would not have this job if he minded a few stares, but the boy really shouldn't be here. The boy looked like he was Shiraishi's younger sister's age and Shiraishi shuddered at the thought of his younger sister sneaking into strip clubs.
"Let's go, Shiraishi," said Fuji, dragging him forward. The music had become loud and that was their cue to start work. They stepped out of the shadows and made their way through the sea of customers. People looked their way immediately, smirking, staring, reaching into their pockets to see if they had any money. Shiraishi's admirer looked their way with large green eyes and a flush on his cheeks. Shiraishi looked his way with concern, making the boy quickly look down.
"Let it go," said Fuji.
"But-"
"No, we have to work now, not concern ourselves about some boy. If it bothers you that much, then you can ask Jackal-kun to re-check his ID."
"I guess…" Shiraishi tore his eyes off the boy and followed Fuji deeper into the crowd. The stage suddenly lit up, a sign for Fuji and other head dancers that they should be getting on stage and do their job as erotic dancers. The lone pole stood in the middle of the stage, waiting for Fuji to get up and do his thing.
"I'm going to get to work now," said Fuji. "Don't do anything stupid." With that warning said, Fuji ran to the stage. Guests were eagerly standing on the stage's edges, the crowd craning for a good view. Fuji was going to make a fortune tonight. The cheers were loud when the song began, officially starting the show.
Shiraishi could easily go find a large table of people to entertain or dance a bit on the dance floor for a few tips here and there. Shiraishi turned his head back in the direction of the curly-haired boy, finding that the boy was once against looking at him, turning away just as quickly as last time. He turned back to the stage, seeing that Fuji was giving him a warning look as he grinded the pole between his legs.
Shiraishi swallowed thickly. No, he couldn't leave this alone, Fuji be damned.
He made his way through the crowd and soon stood next to the seated curly-haired boy. The boy pretended not to notice him at first, only looking up after a long minute. Large green eyes stared at Shiraishi, confused and showing a hint of awe, as if the boy couldn't believe that Shiraishi was standing right there.
"Hello," said Shiraishi, smiling pleasantly. "May I sit beside you?"
The boy's eyes widened. He looked around himself comically, as if looking behind him to make sure Shiraishi was really talking to him and not someone else. Then, he nodded. Sitting down, Shiraishi was able to look at the boy from a close distance. He looked even younger than Shiraishi had first thought… and he was rather cute. Normally Shiraishi would suggest getting drinks, but this boy was no regular customer.
"My name is Shiraishi," said the dancer. He was rapidly thinking about how to proceed and figured he would engage in polite introductions in the meantime. "It's nice to meet you. May I ask your name?"
"K-Kirihara Akaya," stuttered the boy.
"Okay then, Kirihara-san." Shiraishi decided that perhaps it would be best to get to the point quickly. "May I ask you a question?"
"Y-Yes?"
"How old are you, Kirihara-san?"
Kirihara froze, the frightened look of a deer in caught in headlights. "I'm twenty," he said. His voice didn't sound convincing, like he was asking a question instead of stating something. "I-I can show you my ID if you want."
"I'm not interested in the date listed on your fake ID, Kirihara-san," said Shiraishi. He frowned a bit, his voice changing to a scolding one. He felt like he was scolding his younger sister for something she had done wrong. "I want the truth. I won't get mad and I won't call security on you. I'll simply ask that you leave if my suspicions are correct."
Kirihara looked down at his hands. After a pause, he whispered, "Seventeen."
Seventeen! Kirihara was even younger than Shiraishi had assumed, not even a legal adult yet, and much too young to be in a club.
"B-But I don't drink when I come here!" said Kirihara defensively. "I just sit and watch. Aren't I allowed to stay for that?"
Shiraishi sighed. "Kirihara-chan, I'm afraid not. Our club could get in trouble."
Kirihara's eyebrow twitched at the words Kirihara-chan.
"I'll ask you to go now, but if you refuse, then you leave me no choice but to call security. Don't make this difficult for yourself," said Shiraishi in a reasonable voice. Kirihara didn't know how a stripper wearing nothing more than some frilly apron could possibly manage to sound like a scolding mother, but Shiraishi managed it.
"But-"
"No buts." Shiraishi stood up, grabbing Kirihara's arm as well, pulling the boy to his feet. "I'm escorting you outside, Kirihara-chan."
On the way out, Kirihara couldn't help but feel burning humiliation. Shiraishi was pulling him forward by the arm like he was a child, scolded for a misdeed. Not even the fact that his beloved Shiraishi was actually holding his arm could make this situation better. It felt like everyone was looking his way and making fun of him. Kirihara yanked his arm back when the exit came into view.
"I can walk myself!" said Kirihara, frowning in an adorably pouted way. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and worked on leaving this place before he could be embarrassed further.
"Wait!" Shiraishi grabbed him again. "Are you walking home alone?"
"Yeah, so what?"
Shiraishi looked absolutely horrified. "It's dark outside! A boy your age shouldn't be walking around at this time!"
"It's only 8 o'clock!" cried out Kirihara.
"It's no use," sighed Shiraishi dramatically. "I can't let a cute boy like you go off by alone this late. The worry will block my ecstasy."
"Your what-"
"It's decided!" announced the dancer. "I'll walk you home. You don't live far, I hope?"
Kirihara's mouth popped open. This guy was crazy. Kirihara didn't know why he used to have a genuine crush on this lunatic. "I can go by myself!" he shouted. "I don't need your help. It's only two blocks down."
"Oh, good, it's not a long walk then." Shiraishi put his hand on the door. "Come along, then. I'm sure your mother is worried sick."
"Yeah, because going home with a stranger is so safe," said Kirihara.
"What's going on here?" came Jackal's voice. The bodyguard stepped forward, looking between Kirihara and Shiraishi with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, Jackal-kun, I'm just going to escort this boy home. I'll be back soon, so don't worry," said Shiraishi, as if he hadn't heard a word of Kirihara's protests.
Jackal frowned. "You're going out… in that attire?"
Shiraishi didn't see the problem. Kirihara looked mortified.
"I'll get you a jacket," said Jackal with a sigh, turning back. The last thing they needed was for Shiraishi to be arrested for indecent public exposure. Shiraishi just shrugged.
Kirihara shook his head, groaning inwardly. This was a nightmare. Jackal soon returned with a long beige jacket and handed it to Shiraishi. The stripper put it on impatiently, not wanting to be gone from his work for too long. Kirihara looked at Shiraishi up and down.
"You look like a flasher," stated Kirihara. Jackal snorted, silently agreeing.
"Thank you. Shall we get going, Kirihara-chan?" asked Shiraishi.
Kirihara tried to get out of it, he really did, but Shiraishi was not backing down and this was getting nowhere. He decided to let Shiraishi walk with him for a bit out in the cool streets. Perhaps he could ditch Shiraishi on the way, or maybe the stripper would leave once he caught a glimpse of Kirihara's home. The walk down the two blocks was short and only took a few minutes.
"I can see my house from here," said Kirihara. He pointed to an ordinary-looking house along the street corner. Shiraishi said nothing and just continued walking. They were getting closer… dangerously close to Kirihara's home. Kirihara began to panic once they stood a few steps away from his front porch. "You can leave now! Don't you have a job to do?"
"I want to deliver you safely and properly to your parents," explained Shiraishi.
And then, Kirihara had to watch in horror as Shiraishi rang the doorbell. Kirihara feverishly prayed that his mother wasn't home even if her car was in the driveway. His wish went unheard as the door opened a few seconds later, revealing a stout middle-aged woman.
"Good evening, ma'am," said Shiraishi, beaming radiantly. Kirihara's mother shot him a suspicious look, her eyes stopping at the long beige jacket and hints of lace that were escaping from the unbuttoned top of said jacket.
"What is it?" she asked cautiously. She then spotted Kirihara hiding along the side of the porch. "Akaya, there you are! Where have you been?"
"I've come to deliver him safely back home." Shiraishi sounded far too cheerful about this.
"I was just out with some friends, mom," said Kirihara.
"He was at the Imperial Palace," clarified Shiraishi. Kirihara blanched in horror.
"The Imperial… Palace?" said Kirihara's mother, sounding very confused.
"The strip club a few blocks down from here," said Shiraishi, nodding.
He was going to kill him, thought Kirihara. He was going to murder Shiraishi, before his mom killed him first. The words strip club resounded in his ears multiple times. His mother's wide eyes met his, silently telling him that he was in a shitload of trouble.
"Akaya, get inside. Now." She pointed to the house, her lips tight.
"But mom-"
"Now."
Angry tears rose to Kirihara's eyes. He glared at Shiraishi, putting all of his bitterness and betrayal into that look. "I hate you!" he cried out. He couldn't believe he had actually had a crush on this prick! Shiraishi was nothing but a big fat meanie.
"Oh, Kirihara-chan, it's for your own good," said Shiraishi, giving the younger boy a fond look and petting the curly black locks on Kirihara's head, enjoying the feel of them on his fingers. "You'll thank me someday."
Kirihara responded by giving him the finger and running inside his house after his mother, slamming the door behind him.
Shiraishi whistled happily on the way back to his work building, feeling like he had just accomplished a great deed.
~o~o~o~
"This fucking sucks," said Mukahi. He crossed his arms, his grouchy face and crude language ruining the cute sight of the frilly maid outfit.
Oshitari sighed. So much for having a quiet night. He was going to have to endure Mukahi's complaints again. It was really not cute.
"I know, Gakuto," said Oshitari, nodding at his empty glass. He wanted another drink but his limit of five drinks had already been reached. Tezuka once again refused to give Oshitari a sixth glass. "You know, you would be a lot more adorable if you shut your mouth a bit."
"I don't give a flying fuck," Mukahi spat out. "This was my night off. Why do I have to come in just because Yukimura didn't show? It's really not fair. And now that idiot Shiraishi left to hell-knows-where with an underage kid. This is so fan-fucking-tastic."
A customer made his way between Oshitari's seat and Mukahi. "Hey darling, how about a dance?" said the man, waving bills in the air.
Mukahi shot him a dirty look. "Can't you fucking see I'm busy? Fuck off!" The man ran off without much more provocation. Mukahi glared after him but instead saw someone else arriving at the scene. It was someone Mukahi really didn't want to see at the moment.
"Oh shit, Atobe's here," said Mukahi. Now he was going to have to work for real. Why did Atobe have to pick today of all days to be here? The world was conspiring against him. Now Atobe will be on his back for the whole damn shift. "Quick Yuushi, pay me to do something."
"Why me?" said Oshitari. "You just chased off a perfectly good customer. Go run after him instead."
"Oh for fuck's sake." Mukahi rolled his eyes and turned Oshitari's barstool around. Before Oshitari could protest, Mukahi had already straddled the older man and worked on moving as sensually and provocatively as possible. Oshitari didn't know how Mukahi managed to give such good lap dances on someone on a high chair, but he once learnt to never question Mukahi's flexibility.
Atobe stopped in front of the scene and rose an eyebrow. "You couldn't get on a regular chair or the dance floor before you started doing that?" asked the club owner.
Mukahi somehow manoeuvred himself upside down, Oshitari's head between his legs. The outfit made it harder than necessary. "Don't worry, Yuushi's paying me extra," said Mukahi. His hand was clenched around several money bills.
"Hey, I don't recall saying I would pay you," said Oshitari. "Put those back in my pocket."
Atobe took his seat next to them. "Regardless, I had a very hectic week and would like to sit down without having to see you dry humping Oshitari's face, Mukahi," he said. "There are more than enough clients here today. Do go elsewhere."
Huffing, Mukahi flipped himself off of Oshitari, eager to leave Atobe's presence. He quickly ran off to find some other poor soul to complain to. Atobe sighed and rubbed his face with his hand exasperatingly, barely giving a glance at the glass of wine Tezuka laid out in front of him.
"You do appear quite exhausted," said Oshitari. He turned back to his glass, hoping some drink had magically appeared while he had been occupied with Mukahi. It was still empty.
"Oh, I am," said Atobe. "I thought I would finally get a day of relaxation today, until my employee decided not to show." He fingered the rim of his glass until he decided that a drink was exactly what he needed. He drained it quickly and Tezuka refilled it in a flash.
"Ah, so I've heard. How strange of Yukimura not to show up for his shift," said Oshitari.
"Indeed," hissed Atobe. That idiot Yukimura was going to pay for this no-show. He would make sure Yukimura was going to get the ugliest costume in the whole club and would have to entertain tables filled with middle-aged men for a week! And why did his glass keep on becoming so empty so fast? At least Tezuka was swift in refilling it.
"It's not like him," said Oshitari. Yukimura was very punctual and Oshitari couldn't remember a single time that Yukimura had called in sick. "Has someone tried contacting him?"
"I left a few threatening voicemails," said Atobe. "From what I know, Fuji has tried to contact him as well, but to no avail. Really, this is the last thing I need after this hard week I've had."
A smile tugged at Oshitari's lips. "Is this why you've been absent for days now?"
"I had business to take care of."
"And does this business involve that tennis player, Echizen Ryoma?"
Atobe froze. Oshitari's smile grew wider.
"So you are already aware," said Atobe. Yes, he definitely needed more wine now. Perhaps something even stronger. He was already feeling a little light-headed, but he was past the point of caring.
"Keigo, your picture has been on all the gossip magazines for the last week. Honestly, what were you thinking when you brought the tennis world champion up in your office? What did you think would happen?" said Oshitari, looking far too amused. "Although I admit the rumours going around are far too amusing and over-the-top."
Atobe frowned. "The brat provoked me." he said. "He was the one who started flirting with me."
Now it was Oshitari turn to be shocked. "Wait, did you actually sleep with him?" he asked. He knew the rumours and pictures all showed Atobe and Echizen going up to Atobe's office together, but Oshitari hadn't believed that anything had actually happened between them. Rumours were normally always false.
Atobe pursed his lips. "Technically, I did not sleep with him."
"Oh, Keigo, you didn't…" Oshitari shook his head. "Imagine people find out the rumours were real? I thought you had more self control than that."
"To be fair, I've had sex with many people," said Atobe. "The only reason everyone is buzzing about this one is because he happens to be famous. You wouldn't have even batted an eyelash if I told you I had screwed my bartender."
Tezuka whipped his head around in a flash from behind the counter.
"Yes, but sleeping with Tezuka would have been a far better choice," sighed Oshitari. "Then you wouldn't be in this scandal." In the distance, Fuji glared back at them, as if he had somehow heard their comments about Tezuka. "No offense, Tezuka," he added so that Fuji wouldn't hold a grudge over his head for his comment.
Atobe rolled his shoulders back and exhaled harshly. It was too late now. The whole world already thought the heir of the great Atobe corporations was now sleeping with the tennis world champion. He couldn't even go home anymore without being mobbed by photographers and journalists looking for a juicy story they could sell. His every step was being closely monitored and Atobe couldn't stand it. He was paranoid, looking around him all the time as if everyone surrounding him was a secret spy.
The club was filling up to the brim. The dance floor was completely crowded and the few tables left were filled up. But as good as the business was, Atobe was not in the mood to be in a loud crowd. Unfortunately, he was the boss and couldn't just leave. He hadn't been here all week, so the least he could do was stay for a night. Maybe he could drink some of his troubles away. Drink. Yes, more drinks sounded good.
He looked up at Tezuka, about to voice an order for something strong. Tezuka was pouring a drink and handed it to another customer at the far left side of the bar. Atobe narrowed his eyes. That customer… he looked familiar.
"Hey, do I know that guy?" Atobe asked Oshitari, pointing at the tall raven-haired man who had just ordered a drink.
Oshitari took a short look and smiled. "That's Yukimura's guy, I believe," he said. "You've met him before. He comes frequently. Handsome, isn't he?"
Oh, that's right. Atobe remembered once reprimanding the man for coming in the club early. His brow crinkled in deep thought, trying to remember the raven-haired man's name. The buzz in his head made it hard to think. The name Sanada popped into his mind.
"Oi, Sanada!" shouted Atobe over the music. "Sanada!"
It took a few tries for Sanada to hear and turn his head around. Clearly Sanada remembered Atobe from before because he met his eyes with a frown. Oshitari smiled flirtatiously back at Sanada and waved at him.
"Invite him for a drink," Oshitari whispered to Atobe. "He's just my type."
Atobe made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "You just said he was taken."
"All the good men are taken. It doesn't make him any less handsome."
"No, it just makes you seem desperate," replied Atobe. He hauled himself out of his barstool, heading towards Sanada. The seat he abandoned was immediately taken by a client. The floor shifted dizzily in Atobe's vision with every step he took.
Oshitari remained seated, an amused smirk on his lips. While any sane friend would have stopped an obviously drunk buddy from getting up and potentially starting a fight, Oshitari took far more delight in watching Atobe make a fool of himself.
"I have to talk to you," Atobe prodded Sanada's shoulder until the man turned around. Even when drunk, Atobe still managed to sound haughty. "You, you tell that bastard Yukimura that if he ever decides to not show up again, he'll be looking for a new job. Understand?" said Atobe. He jabbed at Sanada's shoulder once more just for the heck of it, like this was all somehow his fault.
Sanada appeared to be internally debating on whether or not he should leave. The mention of Yukimura made a sad expression appear on his face.
"I haven't been able to contact Yukimura since yesterday," said Sanada.
"Well obviously neither have I!" said Atobe. "Why else would I be asking you where he's gone?"
"I don't know where he's gone," said Sanada. "That's why I came here today. I was hoping he'd be here so we can talk. He hasn't been returning any of my phone calls so I'm getting worried."
"How tragic," said Atobe without a trace of sympathy in his tone. He looked back at Oshitari and found him still staring at Sanada with that pervy grin. That idiot. "Oh, and be wary of that man over there with the dark blue hair and glasses." Atobe pointed at Oshitari, who waved back at them. "He's a perverted jerk and I'm pretty sure he wants your ass."
Sanada really couldn't take a joke – or maybe he was not in the mood for it – because he simply stood up and left. Poor guy, thought Atobe. Apparently being ignored by Yukimura was not putting Sanada in a very good mood.
"Fine, be that way then," grumbled Atobe. He went back to Oshitari's side only to remember that his seat had been taken. Part of him wanted to shove the guy off his chair, but the more reasonable side of his brain reminded him that punching paying customers was not the way to go.
"What did you tell him?" asked Oshitari. "He certainly left in a hurry."
"Nothing. The idiot doesn't know where Yukimura is anymore than we do."
"What a shame."
They were interrupted by the bright flash of a camera in their direction. Atobe blinked rapidly to get the blur out of his vision. He soon recovered enough to see a man wielding a large camera in his direction. Another man was by his side, casting occasional glances his way and writing things down.
Atobe gritted his teeth. He was at his patience's limit with the damn paparazzi. Did they ever leave him alone?
"Keigo, don't start a brawl in your own club," warned a more level-headed Oshitari. "It will only make it worse. Get security to kick them out."
Right. Atobe nodded. He shouldn't take this out on the annoying photographers. It was not their fault. The only reason they were here in the first place was because of that cocky brat, Echizen Ryoma.
Yes, everything was Echizen Ryoma's fault. He pulled out his phone in a flash.
"Who are you calling?" asked Oshitari.
"The tennis prince himself," replied Atobe. He hit the call button before Oshitari could convince him that this was a really bad idea. Drunken calls to one night stands were definitely not a good thing to do.
Atobe let the phone ring, having a hard time hearing the rings over the loud beats of music.
"Hello?" answered Echizen's voice.
"Hello to you too, you no-good ingrate," said Atobe. "I hope you are very happy about this."
There was a pause. "Is that you, Monkey King?"
"Don't change the subject." Or maybe it was on subject? Atobe wasn't too sure. "Truly, you sir deserve the gold medal for putting me in the biggest, most catastrophically annoying dilemma I have ever known. Not only is this entirely your fault, but you are leaving me to suffer the consequences without having a single clue of the weight you have so ungraciously burdened me with, you selfish dunghead. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Another pause. "Are you drunk, Monkey King?" asked Echizen with amusement. "Or do you have a habit of starting a monologue whenever you are pissed off?"
"A bit of both, I believe," said Atobe. "Now, what will you do to rectify the situation?"
There was a chuckle from Echizen's line. "Is that an invitation to meet again? I can make arrangements if you would like. I have experience in dealing with stalking photographers and I can easily give us some real privacy this time. Then I can, ah, make it up to you."
Atobe opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. He found himself actually considering Echizen's proposal. Flashes of images appeared in his head too, of them alone in his office, Echizen bended over his desk and moaning deliciously.
"What type of arrangements?" asked Atobe. He could practically hear Echizen's cocky smile come in place.
"You don't need to do anything. Just be ready to go this Saturday at five. I'll pick you up at your place."
"To go where?"
Echizen chuckled again. "It's a surprise."
Atobe was about to demand a proper answer when he heard the call end with a click. The feeling of infuriation took over him so that he nearly snapped his cellphone in half. He practically shoved Oshitari out of his seat, so impatient that he even began snapping at Tezuka about not having his drink ready in five seconds.
"How did it go?" asked Oshitari sarcastically. It was quite obvious that Atobe was in an even worse mood after his talk with Echizen.
"I have a date," hissed Atobe. He drained his glass, slamming it down on the counter harder than necessary.
"Really?" Oshitari sounded surprised and then he threw his head back to laugh. Atobe's face looked so uncharacteristically grumpy that he couldn't help the bouts of laughter. "How did that happen?"
"I have no idea," said Atobe, shaking his head. This was a bad idea. Atobe felt like calling back and demanding that they not have a date, but he was afraid he would somehow get off the phone with weekend plans with the tennis player.
He sighed loudly. This was a horrible end to a horrible week. And by the looks of it, next week would not be any different. Atobe stood there grumbling as Oshitari moaned complaints about not being allowed a sixth drink. Then there were more camera flashes in his direction. Even the fuzzy feeling from the alcohol didn't make this situation any better. Atobe laid his head down on the counter, looking out at the dance floor.
And then, Atobe saw him.
Right in the middle of the dance floor was Shiraishi, but the dancer was not wearing the full-body maid outfit Atobe had gone through much trouble to get. Atobe's vision turned red.
"Hold my glass," said Atobe, pushing his empty glass into Oshitari's grasp. He then stomped forward and got ready to give Shiraishi an earful about respecting the dress code.
~o~o~o~