[rp log]

[koutaisawesome]

Characters: Atobe Keigo and Kabaji Munehiro
Location: In Atobe's cave.
Time: The day after the last log.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Kabaji brings Atobe shark. Atobe attempts to interogate; they get side-tracked.

It took many attempts to successfully grill the tiger shark over the open flame. The first several tasted metallic. After that, he burned a few from the ache in his arm after he cut it to catch the shark. An hour later, he tried again and achieved success.

Just in time for Atobe's lunch.

It's okay, Kabaji assured himself. He was sick. Perhaps it was just.......comfort.

The worst part was, he didn't know if he wanted to be. The idea of Atobe compensating others that way bothered him more than he could have imagined.

".......Atobe-sama," Kabaji said very quietly as he entered the cave. "I have your shark."

It had been several hours since Atobe lapsed into a state of unconscious compliance. The healing properties of sleep hadn't been lost upon him, but waking alone was something he'd not bargained upon.

His fever had broken rather spectacularly within the comforting confines of Kabaji's arms. After it peaked, he'd been far more agreeable, and slept quietly with his breath still tickling Kabaji's neck. Half-hearted murmurs about the grandeur of his game had been the only interruption until they parted ways before sunrise. He was sitting up amidst the mock splendour created by Kabaji and Jirou - the blankets had been thrown aside, and during Kabaji's absence he'd liberated another t-shirt to pair with one of his sets of designer jeans. There was even a hint of a less worrying color to his face (which held a slightly off-guard expression at the sight of a freshly prepared feast.) "....ahn...bring it over here."

Kabaji looked at Atobe. The very moment he saw that Atobe was looking healthier...

His eyes went straight to Atobe's lips. Kabaji turned the color of the inside of a grapefruit.

Nonetheless, he shuffled over to Atobe and knelt beside him. With his bandaged arm, he held the plate, and with his healthy right one, he held out a bite of tiger shark to Atobe.

Perceptive as ever, Atobe's gaze fell upon the bandages wreathing Kabaji's arm. He slid a curious hand over their rough surface at the same time as leaning over to taste the homespun delicacy. As expected, Kabaji hadn't failed him in the culinary department. Although the fish was devoid of exotic spices and sauce its simplicity was refreshing. For someone who was still sicker than they let on, it sat well in Atobe's stomach, "You're hurt. How?"

While he worked hard to actually bring words to his lips, Kabaji held out a little more of the hard to fetch fish.

"....J-j-just a cut."

Kabaji had used his own blood to lure the sharks near. After all, he wanted to finish his hunting by the time Atobe woke up. Accidentally, his eyes fell on Atobe's lips again, so he averted his eyes quickly.

This time Atobe's gaze was firmly tethered to the nervous darting of Kabaji's own. He saw through the pretense as if it were a pane of glass. This was the one silent interrogation even Kabaji wasn't exempt from. The faint pressure of his fingers strengthened, but strayed just beyond becoming firm enough to imply reproach. He mulled over the morsel, and the faint prickle of attention he'd sensed wasn't directed towards an entirely innocent cause, "......remember your promise."

Under the pressure, the still rather fresh wound bled a little again, staining the bandage slightly pink. Kabaji didn't even flinch, let alone move his hand.

The cut was the least of his problems.

"Usu," Kabaji could answer with certainty. Even though he couldn't keep the red from his face, Kabaji did manage to look Atobe right in the eye.

The sight of a little blood didn't appear to faze the cause of it. It was only Kabaji (with the possible expection of Oshitari) who would be aware of the minute twitch at the corner of his lips which indicated those sentiments he wasn't prone to expressing. Not when he was running a normal temperature anyway. The remainder of the meal was spend in silence. With all the water on the island diluted by Inui's vile concoctions Atobe settled for a cup of coconut juice pilfered from the peach and his brat to wash it all down with.

Atobe's displeased expression hurt him more than the self-inflicted cut. Their silence was different from the usual silence. There was so much he wanted to say, so many emotions tangled up inside his head that he could not voice. Not to Atobe, not to anyone.

Why did Atobe do what he did? Did he mean it? Was it just the sickness? Did kissing always feel so nice, or was it just Atobe's prowess?

At that last thought, Kabaji flushed again. "Atobe-sama....I....."

Squeezed some juice. Squeezed some juice...

"...Squjuce."

Kittens.

"What's wrong with you?" In one fluid motion (which betrayed that he was at least far more mobile than he'd been the night before) Atobe used the leverage he already possessed to pull himself to Kabaji. His forehead was cool and dry against Kabaji's own, and a whisper of sweet scented breath ghosted over Kabaji's lips, "....ahn...you're not running a fever." He drew back just as quickly, "Spit it out then."

The question of whether he dared give utterance to his love for Atobe, even in his own head, was erased by the extreme vicinity of Atobe. Chocolate brown eyes went wide, staring into blue ones that were so near. The urge to claim lips, completely foreign to him, was so irresistable that it was probably for the best that Atobe drew back.

Even if Kabaji wanted to speak, his mouth was too dry to do so. He just stared quietly, lips parted and mind blank from everything save one question: why?

Then came the more relevant question: Why are you being so selfish when Atobe-sama is unwell?

Too right. Atobe's wellness was more important than his feelings. Atobe had been unwell. Perhaps he had taken too much advantage of that; no conclusions were to be drawn on such an account.

Though he still couldn't speak, he offered Atobe freshly squeezed juice. "....Not Inui-san's," he managed to say.

The first sparks of friction illuminated the frozen blue of Atobe's eyes. His grasp constricted only to relinquish itself, "You didn't answer my damn question." If there was one thing he tolerated from no one it was tip-toeing around the root of something. Time wasters were weeded out of his life with ruthless efficiency. Although Kabaji held a firm position in the hierachy of Atobe's life, he was still capable of arousing his ire.

Despite the anger, it was good to see Atobe looking so energetic.

"...Atobe-sama," Kabaji blushed again, looking down at where Atobe grasped his arm. Then he looked back up again at Atobe. "I'm......happy. It is.....hard to say more than that."

His emotions were confusing, but they were hardly discomfiting. It was a warmth. Not all the kitten pictures in the world could come close to describing it. "....So.........thank....you."

"You don't thank people for something like this." Like dominoes tumbling in a line, Kabaji's soft-hearted expression blunted the sharp edges of Atobe's distain. The out-of-sorts part of him which was reveling in this disarray pushed amusement past his frustration. A smile, four parts disapproving, and one part complicated passed between them. His fingers crept their deft way until the curve of a broad shoulder lay beneath them.

"Then..." Kabaji started slowly. Atobe's expression showed that he was not the only one confused by all of this. "....What would you have me do....Atobe-sama?"

As much as he enjoyed the elegant, destructive fingers moving up his arm, Kabaji did not presume to touch Atobe. He just looked down at him; his gaze did not even try to obscure the warmth he felt for his dear friend.

As if his close proximity wasn't closeenough to discern the truth, Atobe moved as if to make sure that his presence swallowed Kabaji's field of vision whole. The lure of freedom had gone to his head in ways even he couldn't have imagined. Even if they'd been fueled by a fever which still lurked beneath his skin - only it had gone deeper by now. Down to places left dormant by the sheen celebrity had given Atobe's life. The wild thought that it had simultaniously been everything he'd strived for, and his downfall brought all of his carefully constructed defenses crashing down. He went with it, and somehow ended up smothering Kabaji's lips with his own. A heart beat passed, and then he withdrew, ".....just take your damn compensation."

Whenever Atobe was near, he consumed more than Kabaji's vision: he consumed his life. This moment failed to prove an exception.

His thoughts quieted at the touch of Atobe's lips, and all things faded to sensation. However, the sensation came without a shiver, without an explosion, but with a hot, slow boiling warmth that he felt with everything in him. That warmth, that knowledge, stayed with him even when Atobe had moved away. And yet, it didn't make his yearning to reconnect any less.

There were still questions. There was still confusion. It didn't matter. Gently, ever so gently, he tucked a gray lock behind Atobe's ear -- as if his ear was of a delicate glass that would shatter upon touch.

"....Usu," he exhaled more than said, before realizing that he had, in fact, released a breath that had been shared between them. I will endeavor to earn it. ".....I think....at this point," he mumbled and stared abruptly at the ground between them, "I am in your debt."

A lack of pretension, that was what stirred the tundra which had replaced the thing meant to be his heart. It was so distant from the fawning clutch of slender fingers upon his arm at formal functions. From the sickly smell of perfume, and the false promises he scattered around every room he entered. For a dizzying instant Atobe felt as if the cage bars he'd brought down around himself were bending.

The sand between his toes, the whistle of a breeze winding through the caves, all of it was fine, welcome even. Laughter touched his senses, and it took several seconds for him to realise its source. His touch anchored him to Kabaji, shoulders quivering with the abandonment of mirth, "....I'm not going to break." He murmured in response to the adoring fingers which had dared to brush his hair back, "You of all people should know that....so....don't hold yourself hostage."

Did he dare to believe it? Did he dare to believe that someone could ever....want him? Did he dare believe the even more incredulous -- that Atobe wanted him?

Kabaji let himself be moved by laughter, and armed himself with the courage he found in Atobe's gaze. "....No....but....," his large hands moved to tenderly cup Atobe's face. Kabaji leaned down until his lips pressed chastely, earnestly, against Atobe's.

"...I could never touch Atobe-sama.....half-heartedly."

If there were bars, Kabaji would break all his fingers to break them with his bare hands.

The furthest Kabaji had shown he was willing to take the intiative was when he offered Atobe a towel to mop his brow during a match, or tried to disuade him from doing something reckless (just because he could). Atobe was too disciplined even with his guard in tatters to look shocked for long, but the warm, scuffed palms pressed against his cheeks for a moment - followed soon after by a kiss which would have felt patronising coming from anyone else - they conspired against his self-control.

He chased the kiss, gave Kabaji a reason to give up restraint. Since when did he desire something like this? It was a question best left unattended. In the faint silver of distance between them, his words were almost drowned out, ".....then prove it."

There were so many things standing in the way of Atobe's request, the fact that he didn't know how to kiss being one of the more prominent issues. However, those words proved more effective than a snap of dextrous fingers.

Kabaji would try with all his heart to prove it, and to be worthy of the man who trusted him so very much. Never would he forget that rare, artless shock that crossed Atobe's features. Not even Kabaji could translate it as fear when Atobe moved like that.

Kabaji's arms closed around Atobe like a muscular crysalis, enfolding him away from the rest of the world as he kissed him again. He lay his whole heart on the line, for Atobe to do as he pleased with his inexperience.

Nothing about the experience was a one-way street. Years of being in the spotlight had left Atobe jaded in ways only the supremely rich and famous could be. There was a 'been there, done that' quality to his life these days. The professional circuit held little in the way of challenges (save for some ghosts from his past), and even wealth didn't afford one the luxury of iron-clad privacy. When each dalliance involved signing a non-disclosure agreement before clothing hit the floor what the hell did it mean anyway?

It didn't matter if Kabaji had no technique; the finesse of someone with their eyes upon his wallet couldn't compare to someone who saw him. Really saw him. Atobe surrendered the lead, only to wrestle it back. The challenge lay in drawing out Kabaji's strength. His desire for things that couldn't be solved with bank notes or connections. A moan clotted in the back of his throat, shuddering into the mouth pressed against his own. Fingers clasped at the cotton stretched over Kabaji's shoulders.

And for once Atobe threw everything away. All the delusions of his elite life and the shackles which came along with it.

Holding Atobe completely off the ground against him, Kabaji failed to recognize anything save for the way Atobe's lips moved against his. His limbs suffused with warmth while his head filled with fluff and contented nothings. He let Atobe take the lead, and though he had the ability to copy the diva's technique completely, he did not do so.

To do so would render it less than his whole hearted earnestness. He swallowed that moan and clumsily followed it over Atobe's palate. The taste of shark and the curl of fingers against his shoulders became one emotion.

Kabaji knew there was a lot he didn't understand, so he went with his instincts. Usually he could anticipate what Atobe wanted before Atobe even knew he wanted it; he knew Atobe. Why should this be any different?

Kabaji was wise not to attempt a perfect imitation of the man who fit against him like they'd been designed as a matching set. Fond honesty wasn't something he'd known he craved until it was too late. Yet now it was on offer, Atobe made no secret of claiming his share. It was the ridiculous paradox of someone who could break him in unspeakable ways if he wanted to, but whose personality would never let him do such a thing. It had snuck up on him unannounced, and left Atobe concussed with desire.

His mind was finally catching up to what his body had always known. Shameless fingers wound through the short spikes at Kabaji's nape, moved higher until they found something to purchase upon. The tension which was slowly winding webs through his body tightened. Before he knew it Atobe was taut and restless at the same time. A sinful tongue coaxed Kabaji's own past the parting of his lips. He was coach, conspirator, and willing victim in one.

Trusting in Atobe's guidence, Kabaji could have faith in himself. Atobe would not let Kabaji lose control and harm him. In holding Atobe, his arms knew freedom.

The touch of Atobe's tongue against his felt warm, wet, electric -- firing up every nerve ending of his body. Atobe surrounded him with his presence, with graceful fingers clutching to his salt doused hair, with his weight in his lap, with his mouth and with his heart beat. The rythm of his own pulse changed to match Atobe's, leaving him lightheaded for want of oxygen. He didn't even notice that he was trembling.

That same dizzying sensation robbed Atobe of the last of his control. It was an afterthought when he realized that the wide expanse of back beneath the pressure of his greedy fingers was quivering. It would have been folly to assume the gentle tremors were caused by anything external. Beyond the two of them the world had no right to exist. Challenged anew, he dug blunt nails into the fabric of his t-shirt.

For a fleeting respite his lips departed, and the look he fixed Kabaji with was inciteful. It dared him to do so much more than he had when they were still languishing beneath a banner of simple friendship. Words were unnecessary distractions when his body was static in the moments before he rolled his hips with uncommon grace. Just to let Kabaji know that he wasn't the only one getting swept away.

It was like looking directly into the sun from a hundred yards off. So overpoweringly bright, beautiful and paralyzing. Kabaji's face burned bright red, not from embarrassment, but of sheer emotion. He didn't know how to answer that heat, though he too felt overwhelmed by its pull.

Kabaji buried his face in Atobe's gray hair and held him tenderly to his chest in an all consuming hug. Please don't go where I cannot yet follow.

The embrace left Atobe with little more to do than give in to the soft shiver of laughter which suddenly tripped off of his tongue. Mockery was entirely absent from the sound. At least not any kind of scorn directed towards Kabaji. He should've known that this required the kind of baby steps which life usually erased for him. Instead of pushing the issue pooling like blind heat in his belly, Atobe let himself be held.

So many would have jumped at the chance to be where Kabaji was now, but there was no one else he'd have known without question harboured pure motivations for being there in the first place. It was him who broke away first, and the trail of his fingers over Kabaji's shoulder left a reminder of what could be. All he had to do was remain receptive to the tides of Atobe's mood, "Too much, to soon?" He teased whilst looking for something to occupy those greedy digits which wasn't Kabaji.

Kabaji remained too floored to actually form a verbal response. He memorized the sound of the quiet chuckles, so that he could draw them up with his memory of this embrace, this feeling. It was odd, that he could fell a tiger shark for Atobe easily, but the slightest touch of elegant fingers along his shoulder sped his pulse.

I don't want to think that it was just a dream.

He wanted to savor this feeling. He wanted to treat Atobe properly. He wanted to arrange to have his head bashed in with a coconut to make sure dehydration hadn't driven him crazy.

But most of all, Kabaji wanted to protect the man at his side, and never lose him.

Ever so gently, he took hold of the hand that brushed his shoulder and raised it to his mouth to kiss. The entire time, Kabaji's gaze remained riveted to Atobe's.

A quirked brow was the only reply Kabaji was granted, but Atobe's fingers still tightened momentarily around his calloused palm. Even if he seemed placid by now, Atobe was quietly convinced that Kabaji was perfectly aware of the deafening chatter of his heart inside his chest. Surely its staccato beats were echoing off of the cave walls, alerting everyone to the disarray he'd found himself left in, "Keep looking at me like that, and we're going to have to do something about that self-conscious streak of yours." The warning was accompanied by a smile which was a secret meant just for the two of them.

Atobe's heart wasn't any louder than Kabaji's. And if Atobe couldn't hear it, his emotions translated easily through the way he looked at his best friend. From the way Atobe squeezed his hand, reassuring him, Kabaji knew he saw clearly.

Atobe would never have to use insight on Kabaji.

.....At Atobe's words, he flushed deeper than he thought humanly possible. And yet, despite the red on his face, a small, genuine smile etched itself onto his stonelike face.

The urge to kiss that smile out of existence was overturned by indulging in its presence, and knowing that he was responsible for it. The contentment of others wasn't something Atobe concerned himself with. He'd defended his team mates upon numerous occasions; kept their fervor for victory alive with his prowess. All the while, their personal happiness meant a little less than nothing to him. The calculation of distain for others was what had helped him rise to the top.

An untouchable aura which drew fans and sycophants as readily as it provoked his detractors. Yet, now Kabaji's contentment, his happiness felt like it mattered. Realization clouded Atobe's features, and he lapsed into silence with his fingers slack within Kabaji's gentle grasp.

It was still hard to believe that this was real. Kabaji did not smiling, nor did he stop looking at Atobe. As he held Atobe's hand, he stroked over deliberately formed knuckles with his thumb. Atobe's hands were so small in his, and yet, he knew that the older man was the stronger between them.

Physical strength could only take one so far. Besides, any strength that Kabaji had belonged to Atobe as well.

Did I feel like this about you all along? I think so....no, I know it in my heart.

This was, Atobe supposed, the reason why he'd kept all those sentimental little trinkets sent from Kabaji's address over the years. They were so numerous by now that he'd devoted an entire study in his mansion just outside of London to housing them. Upon the rare occassions he was there for long enough, he'd stand in the door way marveling at the other man's devotion. Even for someone who knew with conviction that he was magnetic; having someone who slavishly maintained a friendship without balance was quite miraculous.

To his credit, he'd never let Kabaji's birthday pass without arranging a gift with a ridiculous price tag. Each Christmas a hamper arrived filled to the brim with expensive treats, and even New Year's arrival was heralded by some form of apology for not being there in the form of a present.

"Such a fool..." His lips formed a self-deprecating smile, and the hand stole itself away to rake itself through his hair. Without further comment he collapsed his shoulder against Kabaji's chest, settling beside him.

Kabaji couldn't be sure if Atobe was speaking of Kabaji, or of himself. Regardless, he still could not find words; how could he concentrate on words when he could still taste Atobe on his lips?

Besides, they did not need words. There was no way Atobe didn't know his feelings. Atobe knew what the blank text messages, the knitted gifts without a card, the silent phone conversations all meant.

Kabaji didn't care much for expensive things, but he valued everything Atobe gave him for the fact that it was from Atobe. The notes that came with the gifts were just as, if not more, important.

Kabaji released Atobe's hand easily, only to wrap a supporting arm about the gray haired man's back. If Atobe wanted to fall asleep, he could do so easily.

Atobe was sure of it now, as sure as he'd ever been of anything. He didn't believe in intangible things like fate or destiny, but getting marooned had been the kind of coincidence which had kicked certain things into gear. Things which should've happened back when their dreams were confined to much smaller arenas. There had been times when he'd taken Kabaji's presence for granted, times when he'd forgotten how integral Kabaji had been in his old life.

The one without press releases, red eye flights, and seeing his face plastered over advertisments in a hundred countries. Fame and success had been a double-edged sword, leaving him with little time for those who really mattered. Getting tossed out into some unknown corner of the ocean had put quite a few things into perspective. Without dislodging the warm weight of Kabaji's arm, and mindful of his sling-bound arm, Atobe shifted to face him, "...after this is over I'll take a break."

With incredulity, Kabaji trained his eyes on Atobe's sincere ones. He believed Atobe told the truth, but he also knew the track record of Atobe's history. Break was not an often used word.

Kabaji smiled again, soft, private and just for Atobe. He drew the rich man close in a careful, yet firm hug that promised all the warmth in the world.

".......Stay.......with....me?" the words came slow and soft and completely directed to Atobe's hair.

Atobe had been meaning to take a holiday since forever, but there was always another tournament coming up, another endorsement that needed endorsing, one more signing session to sleepwalk his way through. The adoration was a byproduct of his addiction to standing upon one side of a court, and facing someone who might just offer the kind of challenge Tezuka used to.

Everyone had their breaking points, but Atobe appeared to have forgotten where his limitations lay before injury had cornered him. This time he gave in, sinking into the comfort of Kabaji's arms, "....can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be."

Kabaji could never provide the same challenge that someone like Tezuka could, but he would always be there waiting for Atobe. His former captain would never have to chase, or grab at straws, or exhaust himself to have what was already his. He remained, and would always remain a source of strength for Atobe, no matter what.

As Kabaji held Atobe, he stroked his hair soothingly and smiled. In this moment Kabaji could not imagine that anyone in the world was happier than him.

For the time being Atobe was lost in thought. The confession that he was ready to slow down for a little while, and let Kabaji fall into step by his side had opened up a whole new world of possibilities. His vivid imagination was rife with ideas. Kabaji's silence only gave them a chance to run wild until he spoke up again, "......where do you want to go?" The concept of Atobe placing the power of choice into Kabaji's hands was an unusual one, but it had happened nonetheless.

Kabaji wanted to show Atobe all the effort he had put into his inn. No, more than that, he wanted to make it such a place that Atobe-sama wanted to be all the time. He wanted....

I still haven't finished the topmost floor...I could make....

Pressing a kiss to the top of Atobe's head, Kabaji murmured, "....Home."

He wanted to make the inn as much a home for Atobe as it was for himself.

Home. The word evoked an absence of sentimentality within Atobe, but he understood that to Kabaji it was a precious place. It had been so long since he'd spent more than a few scant days in a single place that home was an alien concept. He'd never considered it to be the same place his parents chose to reside, or whichever mansion was the grandest. Most of them were too hollow and spotless to feel as if they'd ever been lived in anyway.

His eyes slid closed as he tried to imagine the place Kabaji had built up around his life. A place through which many people passed, but Kabaji was as much of a constant as he'd been for Atobe during their school years. It made him smile to himself, "......how like you to say that." There was nothing scathing about his tone. He'd known that Kabaji wouldn't take advantage of his impulsive generosity. He was probably the only one who never would, "Fine, but I'm coming with you."

A large hand moved reassuringly up and down Atobe's back. Of course Atobe was coming with him.

"It's not home without you, Atobe-sama."

There were no stronger words that could possibly express what he felt.

Atobe snorted to hide the unfettered pleasure which threatened to color his face as he tilted his head back. Kabaji was still how he remembered him from the days before he'd let go - running off to bask in a life without any concept of vacation. Yet he'd changed in ways Atobe only found he was capable of appreciating now, "I should think not." Still, he chased the indignation residing in his retort with a brief graze of his lips against Kabaji's.

Kabaji was still admiring the pleasure, faintly hiding beneath bemusement, n his friend's face when Atobe's abrupt kiss turned him too red across the cheeks to notice anything else. His chest clenched tightly

Someday, Atobe would probably give him a heart attack. Not that it would stop the resulting smile.

Even with the idea of 'always leave them wanting more' lodged firmly inside his set of personal principles, Atobe threw them aside in time to kiss him again, ".....like a strawberry." The color splashed across Kabaji's cheeks was pretty much the last straw. There was nothing much Atobe could (or wanted to) do to repress the smile which coaxed at his lips.

Atobe's soft, sweet lips would be the end of him. Until then, he would cherish every touch.

Despite his embarrassment at turning the color of a strawberry, Kabaji could not bear to turn his eyes away from that unmitigated smile. That was a smile he didn't have in his scrapbook, and probably never would.

He was too awed to even consider a picture.

"...Because...of....Atobe-sama...." Kabaji all but choked out. The red would not fade from his face anytime soon.

"Well....I am rather alluring after all." As much as Atobe believed in all the compliments (and advances) he'd received over they years hearing that Kabaji found him as irresistable as ever was something of a comfort. With a soft chuckle, he arranged himself once more into the warmth Kabaji provided. It was an afterthought, but he cradled his arm to his side, paying it mind for once.

Reclining back against the wall of the cave, Kabaji arranged himself as a good bed for Atobe. Whether the gray haired man knew it or not, he needed to rest more.

"....Usu," Kabaji said, following that chuckle along Atobe's back with his hands. It was the truth. Atobe-sama was very alluring.

"You would say that...." Although he was reluctant to crank the pace down several notches (in more than one respect) Atobe was beginning to at least recognize that his body had reached its limits in day before. Plus he couldn't afford to risk his reputation by going off on another feverish rant about turtles in hats. Instead he draped himself across Kabaji's chest, shifting until he found a position which felt as if it'd be almost impossible to drag himself out of if he got too comfortable.

Pleased that Atobe was relaxing, Kabaji slowed the gentle touch of his fingers until they became a static, warm weight on the rich man's back.

Only when Atobe seemed to stop paying attention did Kabaji pinch himself in the thigh. Otherwise, how could he know this to be real?

Atobe-sama's arm. If this were purely your selfish fantasy, he would not be hurt.

"....idiot." As if to prove that sleepiness was no impediment to his skills of observation, Atobe coursed his fingertips to the spot Kabaji had pinched. Their pads massaged any lingering sting out of existence, and then he pillowed himself once more upon the warm bed beneath his slighter frame. He'd have liked to have said more, but the world beyond was blurring out of focus piece by piece. Until his breathing slowed to a crawl, and the healing cycle of unconsciousness set it once more.

As Atobe fell asleep, Kabaji could not supress the smile on his face.

"....Usu..." he murmured, grinning softly as he tucked the hair from Atobe's face.