Challenge List 01
So I gave Arashi a challenge list to attempt while she was on vacation...basically it contains a ton of items, themes, sentences, and pairings that she can pick and choose from to entertain herself. Naturally I had to play a little...:)
Two fics in two days--I'm on a roll! Yay!
All Over The Shower Curtain
Challenge:
Atoji (with hints of ShishiTori)
Cake, shirt, bed, button (sort of) , and a shower curtain
Theme: Don't feel good
Warning(s): Fluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuff and dialogue--whee!
Word Count: 1,580
It was another typical vacation for the Hyoutei Regulars-spending a good portion of it at Atobe Keigo’s private resort, playing tennis and being spoiled rotten by all the luxuries money could buy. It was nice having a rich (filthy rich, really, filthy stinking rich) captain. With all that money at his disposal, it seemed there was nothing Atobe could not do.
Except get seven other teenage boys down to the breakfast table at a decent hour.
Atobe wasn’t a demanding person. But was it his fault he liked to live a relatively scheduled day? Knowing when things were happening and what they were and required were a necessity for him. Atobe had to be in control.
Therefore, breakfast was at eight-thirty sharp, which should not be that big of an issue (it was certainly later than any school morning). Not eight-thirty-one, as Shishido thought, not eight-thirty-five when Gakuto and Oshitari made their way down to the table, and definitely not eight-thirty-seven, when Hiyoshi arrived. Atobe mercilessly assigned all the stragglers laps, to be run after breakfast. He wasn’t going to delay his meal a moment longer! Honestly. Were Kabaji and Ohtori the only regulars with any sense of time?
….and where for heaven’s sake was Jirou?
Any time of day was too early for Jirou. He’d probably fallen asleep somewhere on the way to breakfast. Atobe snapped his fingers. “Kabaji. Go find Jirou.”
“Usu.”
“Wait, don’t!”
Kabaji stopped halfway up from the table as everybody turned to look at Ohtori. Atobe raised a perfect eyebrow. Was Ohtori contradicting him?
He wasn’t the only one completely surprised. Nobody contradicted Atobe Keigo-not teachers, not upperclassmen, and certainly not underclassmen, even if they were a Regular and even if they were Ohtori. There were limits to common courtesy, and being told what to do was not something Atobe appreciated. Everybody knew that, Ohtori included. There must be a reason behind this…insolence.
“Choutarou,” Shishido hissed, the first to regain his voice and of course the first (and only) to try and lessen whatever punishment Ohtori was certainly going to receive.
“I’m sorry, buchou,” Ohtori continued, completely ignoring his doubles partner, his eyes fixed on Atobe’s, mouth set in a firm line. “But Akutagawa-senpai had a rough night last night. I don’t think you should wake him.”
Gakuto choked. Oshitari was quick to pat him on the back and reassure him that Ohtori couldn’t possibly be implying anything like that. Atobe resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Gakuto always had to blow things out of proportion and into the higher ratings.
“‘Rough night’?” He repeated, torn between concern and…something else. Something evil and petty-jealousy? Nonsense. Atobe-sama did not get jealous. Besides, Ohtori couldn’t possibly have meant what had passed through all their minds, thanks to Gakuto…could he?
Ohtori’s face clouded with embarrassment, and Atobe steeled himself for the worst.
“He threw up all over the bathroom.”
He what?
“I couldn’t sleep, so I got up to use the bathroom,” Ohtori continued in the silence that followed, “and there he was. Your shower curtain’s ruined, buchou-I don’t think he quite made it to the toilet.”
“Ew,” said Gakuto, making a face.
“Did something disagree with him last night?” Oshitari suggested, frowning lightly. “The cake, perhaps?”
“Ore-sama’s cake does not ‘disagree’ with anyone,” Atobe cut in sharply.
“He didn’t seem sick yesterday,” Oshitari went on, glossing over Atobe’s offense. It was almost fun to watch him bristle like that.
“He did seem to be sleeping a lot,” Hiyoshi added. “Then again, he always does…”
“In any case, he probably won’t be wanting breakfast,” Ohtori finished. Atobe took note of the slight shadows under the younger boy’s eyes-obviously he’d been up with Jirou, trying to make him comfortable and help him get back to sleep afterwards. It would be like Ohtori to do that.
Atobe suddenly remembered Kabaji, standing there silently waiting for Atobe’s instructions. The entire team was watching him, and so he took a moment to give the problem its due consideration.
Though, in his mind it hardly needed any.
“Kabaji, sit. We’ll let Jirou sleep.”
“Usu,” said Kabaji, and sat back down.
“Ohtori, you’ll be running ten laps after breakfast.”
“Yes, buchou.”
Breakfast continued as planned.
~*~
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. Practice came and went, lunch occurred without a single mishap, and there was no sign of Jirou. While the rest of the team took an early-afternoon break, Atobe went to check on him.
There was no shortage of rooms at Atobe’s resort, but to make sure nobody got in too much trouble the boys doubled up. Kabaji and Atobe shared a room-naturally Oshitari and Gakuto did as well. Due to their age similarities, Hiyoshi and Ohtori were in the same room, a fact which undoubtedly caused Shishido a fair bit of angst and drama as he was ‘forced’ to room with Jirou. There was no chance of him being there now, though. He’d probably gone to make Ohtori lie down for a bit (honestly, the way those two fretted over each other. Why couldn’t they just get together already?), or to play some more tennis. In any case, he wouldn’t be in the room right now, and that was all that mattered. Atobe reached for the door, but before he could open it it was opened from inside.
Jirou, fully awake and dressed, blinked up at him, looking just as surprised to see Atobe as Atobe was to see him. “Atobe…?”
This was definitely unexpected. Atobe had been positive he’d find Jirou in his bed, fast asleep. Maybe he would have kicked the covers off when he got too hot, and Atobe would have been able to pull them back up and gently tuck him in, a display of affection he rarely found the time-or the space-to show. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for the smaller tennis player…it was quite the opposite, really.
But here was Jirou, whom Ohtori had sworn was terribly ill the night before (Atobe’d even seen his servants carrying out the soiled shower curtain later), standing in front of him, fully dressed and looking for all the world like he was going to go out and play some tennis.
Except that his shirt was buttoned wrong. And now that Atobe looked closer, his socks didn’t match and his shoelaces were only half-tied.
This wasn’t what he’d expected. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Jirou obviously wasn’t fit to play.
“Jirou, just what do you think you’re doing?”
Jirou blinked. Of all the questions Atobe could have asked, that one was not high on his list of possibilities. “I’m going to practice,” he said, slowly. “I missed morning practice, right? So I have to run laps and stuff-”
“You have to do no such thing,” Atobe cut him off. Jirou’s eagerness to play never failed to surprise him, but he was sick. Atobe wasn’t going to let him play if it meant he’d contaminate everyone else on the courts-or get worse. “You are sick, Jirou.”
Any enthusiasm Jirou had faded, the surprise on his face shifting into a little frown as he began to whine. “Ohtori told you-”
“Of course he did,” Atobe interrupted, laying his hand on the other’s shoulder and turning him back into the room. “I was going to have Kabaji wake you, but Ohtori convinced me you needed the sleep.” Was that a fever he felt, guiding Jirou back over to his bed and unbuttoning his shirt for him? Or was his skin just unnaturally hot?
“But practice,” Jirou insisted stubbornly, jaw setting as he resisted and actually brought up a hand to try and stop Atobe from unbuttoning his uniform. Atobe noted carefully his flushed cheeks and the slight glaze in those normally bright eyes-yes, Jirou was running a fever. Not a terrible one, but a fever nonetheless. “Tennis.”
Atobe laughed, but it was gentler than normal, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “You’d sleep through it anyway and end up running laps the remainder. You might as well sleep the entire time and work on recovering instead of your serve.”
“But-”
“No buts,” Atobe was beginning to get frustrated. Couldn’t Jirou just give up already? “You are sick. You won’t play well when you’re sick. I am ordering you to skip practice and sleep, which is something I will not likely repeat, so take advantage of it and go back to bed, Jirou.”
There was a moment in which he thought Jirou was going to resist again-he did not want to have to call Kabaji in here-but then he smiled, tiredly.
“If you say so, Atobe.”
Without a shred of embarrassment he kicked off his untied shoes, shed his shorts and slipped back into bed. Atobe was tempted to pull the covers up about him and tuck him in, but Jirou did that for himself, snuggling beneath the blankets with a contented little sigh. Barely a moment passed before his breathing evened out and Atobe knew he was asleep.
Only then did Atobe allow himself to step closer to the bed and drop a gentle kiss on to Jirou’s fevered forehead. Jirou didn’t respond, of course. He never did.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Atobe murmured fondly, watching him sleep just a moment longer before leaving the room.
As the door clicked softly shut behind him, Jirou smiled.
(Comments loved, as usual ^^)
Two fics in two days--I'm on a roll! Yay!
All Over The Shower Curtain
Challenge:
Atoji (with hints of ShishiTori)
Cake, shirt, bed, button (sort of) , and a shower curtain
Theme: Don't feel good
Warning(s): Fluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuff and dialogue--whee!
Word Count: 1,580
It was another typical vacation for the Hyoutei Regulars-spending a good portion of it at Atobe Keigo’s private resort, playing tennis and being spoiled rotten by all the luxuries money could buy. It was nice having a rich (filthy rich, really, filthy stinking rich) captain. With all that money at his disposal, it seemed there was nothing Atobe could not do.
Except get seven other teenage boys down to the breakfast table at a decent hour.
Atobe wasn’t a demanding person. But was it his fault he liked to live a relatively scheduled day? Knowing when things were happening and what they were and required were a necessity for him. Atobe had to be in control.
Therefore, breakfast was at eight-thirty sharp, which should not be that big of an issue (it was certainly later than any school morning). Not eight-thirty-one, as Shishido thought, not eight-thirty-five when Gakuto and Oshitari made their way down to the table, and definitely not eight-thirty-seven, when Hiyoshi arrived. Atobe mercilessly assigned all the stragglers laps, to be run after breakfast. He wasn’t going to delay his meal a moment longer! Honestly. Were Kabaji and Ohtori the only regulars with any sense of time?
….and where for heaven’s sake was Jirou?
Any time of day was too early for Jirou. He’d probably fallen asleep somewhere on the way to breakfast. Atobe snapped his fingers. “Kabaji. Go find Jirou.”
“Usu.”
“Wait, don’t!”
Kabaji stopped halfway up from the table as everybody turned to look at Ohtori. Atobe raised a perfect eyebrow. Was Ohtori contradicting him?
He wasn’t the only one completely surprised. Nobody contradicted Atobe Keigo-not teachers, not upperclassmen, and certainly not underclassmen, even if they were a Regular and even if they were Ohtori. There were limits to common courtesy, and being told what to do was not something Atobe appreciated. Everybody knew that, Ohtori included. There must be a reason behind this…insolence.
“Choutarou,” Shishido hissed, the first to regain his voice and of course the first (and only) to try and lessen whatever punishment Ohtori was certainly going to receive.
“I’m sorry, buchou,” Ohtori continued, completely ignoring his doubles partner, his eyes fixed on Atobe’s, mouth set in a firm line. “But Akutagawa-senpai had a rough night last night. I don’t think you should wake him.”
Gakuto choked. Oshitari was quick to pat him on the back and reassure him that Ohtori couldn’t possibly be implying anything like that. Atobe resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Gakuto always had to blow things out of proportion and into the higher ratings.
“‘Rough night’?” He repeated, torn between concern and…something else. Something evil and petty-jealousy? Nonsense. Atobe-sama did not get jealous. Besides, Ohtori couldn’t possibly have meant what had passed through all their minds, thanks to Gakuto…could he?
Ohtori’s face clouded with embarrassment, and Atobe steeled himself for the worst.
“He threw up all over the bathroom.”
He what?
“I couldn’t sleep, so I got up to use the bathroom,” Ohtori continued in the silence that followed, “and there he was. Your shower curtain’s ruined, buchou-I don’t think he quite made it to the toilet.”
“Ew,” said Gakuto, making a face.
“Did something disagree with him last night?” Oshitari suggested, frowning lightly. “The cake, perhaps?”
“Ore-sama’s cake does not ‘disagree’ with anyone,” Atobe cut in sharply.
“He didn’t seem sick yesterday,” Oshitari went on, glossing over Atobe’s offense. It was almost fun to watch him bristle like that.
“He did seem to be sleeping a lot,” Hiyoshi added. “Then again, he always does…”
“In any case, he probably won’t be wanting breakfast,” Ohtori finished. Atobe took note of the slight shadows under the younger boy’s eyes-obviously he’d been up with Jirou, trying to make him comfortable and help him get back to sleep afterwards. It would be like Ohtori to do that.
Atobe suddenly remembered Kabaji, standing there silently waiting for Atobe’s instructions. The entire team was watching him, and so he took a moment to give the problem its due consideration.
Though, in his mind it hardly needed any.
“Kabaji, sit. We’ll let Jirou sleep.”
“Usu,” said Kabaji, and sat back down.
“Ohtori, you’ll be running ten laps after breakfast.”
“Yes, buchou.”
Breakfast continued as planned.
~*~
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. Practice came and went, lunch occurred without a single mishap, and there was no sign of Jirou. While the rest of the team took an early-afternoon break, Atobe went to check on him.
There was no shortage of rooms at Atobe’s resort, but to make sure nobody got in too much trouble the boys doubled up. Kabaji and Atobe shared a room-naturally Oshitari and Gakuto did as well. Due to their age similarities, Hiyoshi and Ohtori were in the same room, a fact which undoubtedly caused Shishido a fair bit of angst and drama as he was ‘forced’ to room with Jirou. There was no chance of him being there now, though. He’d probably gone to make Ohtori lie down for a bit (honestly, the way those two fretted over each other. Why couldn’t they just get together already?), or to play some more tennis. In any case, he wouldn’t be in the room right now, and that was all that mattered. Atobe reached for the door, but before he could open it it was opened from inside.
Jirou, fully awake and dressed, blinked up at him, looking just as surprised to see Atobe as Atobe was to see him. “Atobe…?”
This was definitely unexpected. Atobe had been positive he’d find Jirou in his bed, fast asleep. Maybe he would have kicked the covers off when he got too hot, and Atobe would have been able to pull them back up and gently tuck him in, a display of affection he rarely found the time-or the space-to show. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for the smaller tennis player…it was quite the opposite, really.
But here was Jirou, whom Ohtori had sworn was terribly ill the night before (Atobe’d even seen his servants carrying out the soiled shower curtain later), standing in front of him, fully dressed and looking for all the world like he was going to go out and play some tennis.
Except that his shirt was buttoned wrong. And now that Atobe looked closer, his socks didn’t match and his shoelaces were only half-tied.
This wasn’t what he’d expected. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Jirou obviously wasn’t fit to play.
“Jirou, just what do you think you’re doing?”
Jirou blinked. Of all the questions Atobe could have asked, that one was not high on his list of possibilities. “I’m going to practice,” he said, slowly. “I missed morning practice, right? So I have to run laps and stuff-”
“You have to do no such thing,” Atobe cut him off. Jirou’s eagerness to play never failed to surprise him, but he was sick. Atobe wasn’t going to let him play if it meant he’d contaminate everyone else on the courts-or get worse. “You are sick, Jirou.”
Any enthusiasm Jirou had faded, the surprise on his face shifting into a little frown as he began to whine. “Ohtori told you-”
“Of course he did,” Atobe interrupted, laying his hand on the other’s shoulder and turning him back into the room. “I was going to have Kabaji wake you, but Ohtori convinced me you needed the sleep.” Was that a fever he felt, guiding Jirou back over to his bed and unbuttoning his shirt for him? Or was his skin just unnaturally hot?
“But practice,” Jirou insisted stubbornly, jaw setting as he resisted and actually brought up a hand to try and stop Atobe from unbuttoning his uniform. Atobe noted carefully his flushed cheeks and the slight glaze in those normally bright eyes-yes, Jirou was running a fever. Not a terrible one, but a fever nonetheless. “Tennis.”
Atobe laughed, but it was gentler than normal, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “You’d sleep through it anyway and end up running laps the remainder. You might as well sleep the entire time and work on recovering instead of your serve.”
“But-”
“No buts,” Atobe was beginning to get frustrated. Couldn’t Jirou just give up already? “You are sick. You won’t play well when you’re sick. I am ordering you to skip practice and sleep, which is something I will not likely repeat, so take advantage of it and go back to bed, Jirou.”
There was a moment in which he thought Jirou was going to resist again-he did not want to have to call Kabaji in here-but then he smiled, tiredly.
“If you say so, Atobe.”
Without a shred of embarrassment he kicked off his untied shoes, shed his shorts and slipped back into bed. Atobe was tempted to pull the covers up about him and tuck him in, but Jirou did that for himself, snuggling beneath the blankets with a contented little sigh. Barely a moment passed before his breathing evened out and Atobe knew he was asleep.
Only then did Atobe allow himself to step closer to the bed and drop a gentle kiss on to Jirou’s fevered forehead. Jirou didn’t respond, of course. He never did.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Atobe murmured fondly, watching him sleep just a moment longer before leaving the room.
As the door clicked softly shut behind him, Jirou smiled.
(Comments loved, as usual ^^)