[ multi-chapter ] [ Fate (2/?) ]
[Title | Fate ]
[Fandom | Tenipuri ]
[Characters | Atobe, Sanada ]
[Rating | This Chapter: PG-13, NC-17 (eventually) ]
[Word Count | 5 972 ]
[Warnings | AU, Seme!Keigo (eventually) ]
[Summary | Sanada is uprooted from his idyllic lifestyle by a sudden phone call. He meets a helpful mysterious stranger who helps him through a series of life's challenges. ]
[Disclaimer | I do not own ANY of these boys. I merely play with Konomi's toys when he's not looking. ]
⇠ Part 1
The elevator opened and the two men walked inside. Atobe offered his empty hand out and spoke, “The pleasure to meet you is all mine.” Sanada thought that the wording of that statement was strange but shook the proffered hand nonetheless, not quite sure how to react to that outside of common courtesy. It didn’t seem to affect Atobe as their hands let go as the lift doors opened to their level. Sanada followed behind Atobe with his cane as they reached the hired room.
Atobe opened the room with key card and held the door open for Sanada. What lay inside was bigger than his entire apartment, the room decorated with opulent decorations. In the middle of the room lay a large king sized bed, the soft pillows and clean white linen beckoning him. A comfortable looking couch sat near the large floor to ceiling windows offering a meagre view of Hong Kong’s scenery. Not that there was much scenery that wasn’t shrouded by clouds of gray pollution to be admired anyway.
The door was closed with finality and Atobe laid Sanada’s bag to rest next to a black leather bag by the small luggage rack near the wardrobe. “Please feel free to use the room as you please. I shall wake you up when it is time to leave.” The other man moved to pick up his possessions and settled on the couch with a small reassuring grin. The blonde pulled out a sleek black laptop and within moments appeared to the world to be engrossed in work. Sanada knew the other man was trying to give him some privacy if that rather broad back facing him was any indication.
Making full use of the facilities available, Sanada instantly picked up his bag and retreated into the lavish bathroom. A functioning shower stood in the corner and he immediately homed in onto the taps before adjusting the temperature to suit his liking. He opened his bag and pulled out some clean underwear. Looking around the room he found everything in small bottles and packaging and Sanada easily located the shampoo. With a soft sigh, he stepped into the warm inviting shower and instantly felt his stiff muscles slowly relaxing underneath the spray. Even though he was a professor at Tokyo University with plenty of overseas seminars and forums, Sanada could never quite adjust to the tolls of flying. In that instant he realised that although Kirihara had become a pilot in the end (who could have known the young terror was into aircrafts), he didn’t envy him one iota. It was a good thing he had become a teacher in the end. Even if it hadn’t been his first career choice.
The water felt sinfully good as it sluiced over his scarred back and Sanada let out yet another content purr. He didn’t want to deal with second guessing Atobe’s every move right now, more than happy to indulge in the simple things in life like the feel of shampoo in his hair and the lather of soap cleaning off sweat and grime after an unrelaxing flight. Now that his mind was firmly back on his supposed saviour, the dark haired man stepped back under the spray to wash off the lather and felt his mind furiously attempting to dissect the situation in his mind.
What did Atobe have to gain for helping Sanada out? Sanada knew he wasn’t exactly the modern day gorgeous male, but he had been assured by many that he was fairly handsome (despite Niou and Yagyuu’s many attempts at giving him a wardrobe makeover, Sanada still held firmly to what they deemed ‘old man’ habits). That ruled out human trafficking firmly. Besides, he had read reports that it was mostly young females that were targeted and he was neither of those.
What of romantic interest? He had to admit this one was possible. Atobe had been practically feeling his chest up earlier. He scowled down at his stomach as he remembered his traitorous body’s reaction. If his female colleagues knew about this, he would never hear the end of it. They were always ranting on about how romantic it was to meet some handsome stranger that would save them when in dire need and how love would blossom between them as the sweet damsel and the handsome stranger would bond over the circumstances. Of course they were all twittering idiot, despite the piece of paper that made them qualified twittering idiots, and Sanada couldn’t see himself as any sort of damsel. The other man had seemed sincere in his help but Sanada couldn’t quite dismiss this idea. He left it on the back burner.
That didn’t leave many plausible explanations left. After all, the man had approached him earlier at the terminal. To his knowledge, it couldn’t just have been coincidence that blew Atobe to him. So Sanada settled for ‘some-god-up-there-is-playing-hot-and-cold’. He hadn’t been expecting Atobe at all after the flight. And yet here he was in a room with Atobe. Well one room away anyway but a room nevertheless.
A knock came from the door and Atobe’s muffled voice broke into his thoughts from the other side, “Sanada-san? Are you alright?” Sanada flushed despite himself, feeling oddly embarrassed of the current situation. The pads on his fingers were all wrinkly and he realised he may have been stewing under the warm water longer than he had estimated.
“There is no cause for alarm. I was just enjoying the water,” Sanada replied and stepped out of the shower and tying a white towel around his waist. “I’m sorry, did you need to use the bathroom?” He felt safe behind the locked door of the bathroom though and still couldn’t bring himself to just trust the other man. It was much easier to be wary of strangers just like every good mother would teach her children. There was a sound of disagreement from the other side of the door followed by a brief explanation of how Atobe had been worried about Sanada being in the bathroom too long. The man left the door, presumably to get back to his laptop, and Sanada breathed a sigh of relief.
There was still that feeling of a caged lamb that was being toyed with by the wolf and Sanada didn’t like it one bit. He reasoned with himself as he dried the water from his body that perhaps trusting Atobe would be alright. At least until their flight arrived anyway. Then he wouldn’t have to see Atobe ever again and that would be that. After all, there were better things to worry about other than his own wellbeing that waited for him in the foreign English speaking country on a sterile white hospital bed. Sanada shook himself physically free from that thought and stowed his clothes back into his bag after changing into a clean shirt.
His bag was returned to the small wooden piece of furniture next to what he assumed to be Atobe’s bag and looked to find the owner of the bag. Atobe was lounging casually on the only sofa in the room and had sent a casual look over his shoulder. Their eyes met for a moment and Sanada felt mesmerised at the charming blue gaze.
“Please make yourself at home. I hope the bed is comfortable for you,” Atobe said and politely turned around back to the glowing laptop screen where Sanada could make out a number of spreadsheets on display. Sanada spoke his thanks and walked over to the rather inviting looking bed. Plush covers were pulled back away from where they lay tucked in between the ensemble and the mattress and Sanada gratefully slithered in. He was out like a light before he knew it.
***
“…Sanada-san!” The teacher snapped awake when he felt someone shake his shoulder, pulling him away from the rather pleasant dream he had been having; back into the depths of reality where Yukimura had been in an accident. Sanada sat upright abruptly and nearly smashed his forehead against someone’s face if it hadn’t been for that particular someone’s fast reactions.
“The connecting flight to London!” Sanada blurted out and looked on in horror as he realised the clock next to the bed blinked merrily that the flight had already left a solid two hours ago. He felt his stomach drop further than it had ever dropped before and the tendrils of panic began to unfurl from the very pits of where his stomach now currently lay. He glared angrily at the brunette who seemed rather amused at the entire situation. “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”
He ran a shaky hand hastily through his hair and felt disgusted at the clammy feel of his palms. The next flight would be another couple of hours Sanada was certain and that meant additional time away from Yukimura because of that brunette gangly idiot hadn’t the decency to wake him up at a time which could be labelled as early. There was so many things to do like talk and negotiate with the airline to put him on the next flight to London, the brunette be damned if he had important business there as well.
“I tried, but you were sleeping rather deeply. Sanada-san, what are you doing?” Atobe asked as he watched the dark haired man swivel out of bed and nearly kicked him in the stomach in the process. Sanada shot him yet another glare, wondering how the man had the gall to ask him what he was doing when it was evident that he had to go talk to someone about the next transferring flight to London.
When it became evident Sanada wasn’t going to answer him - the violent force the other man exerted on his clothes being one indicator - Atobe let out a sigh and stood up gracefully from the bed. The sound of the door handle being jiggled brutally filled the air, the force applied by Sanada nearly enough to pull the entire thing off its socket. Then they would have been screwed. Sanada cursed the day hotels invested money into things like technology.
A cool hand wrapped around his and Sanada stilled his attempt at freedom (curse the day you and your mother were born, door handle!). He stilled even further when he felt Atobe’s body press against his back and a whisper so close to his ear that would make a lesser man squirm away. “If you’d stop trying to escape for a minute and let me explain,” the voice said next to his ear causing the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the sheer close proximity of the other man. Did he have no shame?
“I’m going to yell murder,” Sanada intoned boredly and he felt strong hands turn him around like some kind of meat on a rotisserie before his back was pressed gently against hard wood. He found it difficult not to meet Atobe’s eye as the other man spoke in that patient tone of voice that just felt like melted butter. The tone of voice one would use on a very slow child. Sanada didn’t appreciate it but managed to keep his threat in his mouth, for now anyway.
The grip on Sanada’s upper arm was firm and didn’t let up at all during Atobe’s speech. “Look, I know you need to get to London as soon as possible, but fighting me is not going to help it. I have some good news however. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Will you agree to act like a civilised adult when I let go of you?” The question was reasonable and Sanada was ashamed to say that his behaviour was not in that particular category at the moment, but it hardly seemed fair when childhood friend was lying in a comatose state on a hospital bed in another continent. As far as civilised adults and uncivilised panicked adults went, Sanada was making good headway into the latter category. He nodded with a grumble anyhow and didn’t attempt to whip around and try for escape once more.
Atobe released the arm and took a step back to maintain some illusion of personal space. He observed without batting an eyelid at the other man’s interpretation but let it slide in lieu of Atobe’s supposed good news. “It is true we have missed the flight. So I have taken the liberty of arranging other transportation to London.”
What kind of other transportation could get two adult males from Hong Kong to London? Sanada grunted, “The magical teleportation powers of pixie dust?” The sarcastic remark was not lost on Atobe who blithely replied that if he had been in possession of said pixie dust, they wouldn’t have bothered getting on the plane in Japan in the first place. Sanada scowled noting that he was once again far from being the normal calm man he was renowned to be. Must be all this stranger’s fault, he thought with a growl.
Atobe gave him an odd look and quickly remedied to fill Sanada in. “You won’t have any luck getting a connecting flight to London until tomorrow. I’ve checked already so you have no room for argument.” Sanada immediately snapped his jaws shut and wondered when he had become so easy to read. “Naturally, I’ve arranged for a private plane to get us to London which will be ready for take-off in three hours, or so I’ve been told. The decision, as it always had been, is up to you. If you so choose to accept my offer, we could have a spot of dinner before take-off.”
Faintly in the back of his mind, Sanada realised just how Atobe had a natural knack for the art of manipulation. Admittedly, with a begrudging and traitorous gurgle from his stomach, Atobe had made quite an offer. An offer that was becoming increasingly difficult to pass up when he realised that there was a proper dinner in it for him versus the slop international airlines disguised as food. The other man had the gall to smile calmly as if he had already won; the smarmy bastard was terribly good at manipulation. Sanada found himself accepting and being the recipient of a very warm grin that seemed to light up Atobe’s face, making the other man seem younger.
“Come along then. What do you feel like eating?” Atobe asked as he turned around to gather his own leather bag and flicked off the lights to the room with the palm of his hand. The room was swathed in darkness except for the small green LED light by Sanada’s hip. Sanada panicked a little at the dark, feeling the all consuming darkness wrap around him except for the dull orange light in the far side of the room from the streetlights outside and the yellow light that tickled at his feet. He took a deep calming breath and started when he felt Atobe’s hand slide down his left side to reach the door handle.
“A bit jumpy, aren’t we?” came a small voice from near his right ear, Sanada could just hear the pity in the other man’s voice even if there had been none to find. Atobe gently pressed his bag and his free fingers against Sanada’s waist and pulled the man close. A face was pressed into the crook of a neck and a shoulder. Sanada inhaled out of the need to get his shit together and not appear like some damsel in distress, feeling oddly warm at the not quite embrace Atobe had on him.
The door slid open easily under Atobe’s experienced hand and the light from the corridor suddenly flooded the room. As if someone had poked him with a red hot iron, Sanada pulled away from Atobe and walked into the corridor. The door to the room closed shut behind Atobe with a click of finality and before the Sanada knew it, elevator music was being played as they slowly rode the contraption down to the lobby. He recalled pretending not to notice when Atobe spent most of the ride staring intently at him which seemed to stretch on and on.
Atobe cleared his throat and tapped his fingers on the handle of his leather bag, intent on starting a conversation it seemed. “I hope you don’t mind teppanyaki. I’ve been recommended the chef before and tried his style back when he was still serving in Tokyo. If you don’t particularly feel for Japanese right now we could try something else in the airport. Naturally I’ll pay since I’m the one that dragged you here.” Sanada shook his head, mentioning that teppanyaki was more than fine. The last thing he needed at the moment was to owe Atobe anymore than he already had. He had all intentions of never seeing Atobe again after he got to London after all.
They walked the threshold of the lobby and Sanada joined Atobe at the counter as the man returned the card key and paid for the room. He felt a faint flush of shame when he realised that a number of patrons were giving them disapproving looks. Honestly, was nothing sacred in modern society anymore? People should stop jumping to conclusions. “Sanada-san. I’m going to leave my bag at the concierge so we can enjoy dinner together without having to worry. Might I suggest you do the same?”
Sanada nodded, wondering when it became easier to just agree with what the man wanted instead of putting up a fuss, and handed his suitcase to the helpful porter hovering by the counter. Long established that Atobe had not one ounce of shame in his rather lithe body, Sanada chose to ignore the inquisitive looks of the public who undoubtedly had a field day with Atobe’s innocent question.
The pair made it inside the restaurant and were shown to their seats. The place had a warm ambience and atmosphere though Sanada was pretty certain it wasn’t his particular kind of scene. He hardly ate outside when he could help it as it was. Between lectures and his ongoing projects with his post-graduate students, cafeteria food had become a staple in his diet. This was definitely a step in a direction that Sanada was unfamiliar with.
The waiter helped the duo rearrange their jackets and asked if he could take their drink orders. Sanada blithely opened the menu to the last page and immediately blanched at the prices. Some of the alcohol listed was from foreign countries but there were a fair number of the items listed hailing from Japan and he hadn’t even heard of. Atobe took over easily when he made up his mind on the most expensive sake for two. The waiter bowed and immediately scuttled away to get the drinks ready.
Sanada turned in his seat about to say thanks but no thanks to the alcohol, only to find Atobe smiling at him in that smarmy knowing kind of way, “I know what you’re thinking, but trust me on this one.” He closed his mouth and frowned. Alcohol wasn’t exactly required in his diet and it was a definite bad thing if he was to become inebriated in Atobe’s presence. It was even worse than falling asleep with the other man in the same room because who knew what kind of shenanigans Atobe had in store for a drunk Sanada.
When the waiter returned with the sake and two small cups, Atobe ever so graciously put in two orders of the dinner special. Sanada had been eyeing it earlier, but the man seemed to lord over him without asking for his opinion. In the long run it didn't matter, but Atobe was certainly not making liking him any easier; aside from arranging an alternative way of getting to London without having to deal with more potentially arrogant airline workers. That was a small miracle in itself so Sanada let the whole ordering dinner for him thing slide.
A small cup was pushed towards him and Sanada looked up in time to see Atobe lift his own cup and empty it down his throat. He picked up the cup and gingerly brought it to his lips. The clear liquid was slick and surprisingly cool as it slid down his throat. If it wasn’t for Renji who insisted on dragging him every weekend for drinks and to meet up with the old junior high tennis team (or the few that still resided in Japan), Sanada could imagine the alcohol content easily doing him in after the third or fourth cup.
The sake wasn’t unpleasant on the tongue undoubtedly due to the price tag making it so. Atobe easily kept the sake flowing as the seats around them slowly filled up with the other patrons of the chef. Sanada had a sinking suspicion that teppanyaki had been on the cards ever since he had fallen asleep. If the chef was as well sought out as Atobe made him seem, reservations for this place must go through the roof. This brought another frown to Sanada’s face. The price tag had obviously bellied to what a classy joint the Izakaya and its respective restaurants was. He doubted another opportunity like this would crop up again in this lifetime. Not on his meagre pay anyway.
All around him were couples and single businessmen all dressed up and he fought down the urge to squirm. He felt rather underdressed for such an occasion, but he never figured that there would be a need for a suit when in a hospital. Atobe, as if he was psychic, leaned in close to his ear and whispered reassurances that Sanada was fine the way he was. His breath tickled against his ear and Sanada ducked his head as he refilled his cup from the bottle. It was like the Tardis of alcohol.
Despite his misgivings of what Atobe’s aims may have been, he felt rather relaxed as he spent his time observing people. He spent his time thinking up small ludicrous stories as to where they may have hailed from and what brought them to the Izakaya on this particular night. The sake was rather potent as he realised his tales may have easily belonged to his nephew. Though he was fairly certain Sasuke would deem his works of intellectual genius on a whole different plane than his uncle’s alcoholic ramblings.
Soon enough all the seats at the counter were filled and the chef made his appearance with his utensils wrapped in what must have been some kind of sacred cloth, much to the delight of the clapping Chinese fans. The chef bowed and a waiter came past with a trolley full of uncooked food as per the orders of the customers. Sanada watched as the chef made a spectacular show out of cooking, though he easily hid his enthusiasm and awe behind a blank mask.
The chef turned to place the entrees of the orders in front of his patrons and was surprised to see Atobe there. “Atobe-san! I didn’t expect to see you here,” the man spoke in fluent Japanese as he set plates of carefully prepared beef tataki in front of them. The brunette accepted his portion with thanks and an easy smile as the chef continued to speak. “What brings you here to Hong Kong?”
Sanada picked up his chopsticks and attempted to not be the eavesdropper that he was, his interest was piqued indefinitely now that the chef claimed to know Atobe. Atobe calmly set his cup down and replied, “It has been some time hasn’t it, Oishi-san.” It was a good thing the piece of beef was safely in his mouth and he had begun chewing, because the irony of the situation was really not lost on Sanada. Especially with the chorus of ‘oishii’ the Chinese seem to have adopted when complimenting the chef … or was it addressing the chef, Sanada was rather unclear.
Then it dawned on him. These people were once opponents of his back when tennis was the sport to play and the tournaments were rampant with shirts flying and testosterone filled the air more than oxygen did. Atobe Keigo was Atobe Keigo the one and only tennis captain of Hyoutei and self proclaimed diva (drama llama in Sanada’s eyes). Well, it certainly made sense why Atobe was so manipulative, what with all the years of practice he had put in. He peered inconspicuously at the chef through his fringe - who was chatting rather amicably with Atobe - and racked his brains to put a name to a team in his mind.
“You’re Oishi Shuuichirou,” Sanada stated blandly as he read the man’s name tag, much to the amusement of Atobe. He whipped around to stare at his drinking buddy (not so much buddy but random person who was conveniently there). “And you’re Atobe Keigo.” There was a moment of confusion between the two men as they exchanged a worried glance. It was like being part of an in joke but not really. ‘Kami-sama, am I ever slow,’ Sanada thought as he fought the urge to press his face against the counter and bang it repeatedly. Embarrassment could not even begin to label how Sanada felt at that moment, not that he would ever admit to that.
There was another moment where the background sound of the other patrons enjoying their entrees faded away into silence. Atobe met Sanada’s stare; mischievous blue against startled hazel. It was as if a wealth of information and memories came back, flooding his senses. All the memories from their Junior Senbatsu meets and the number of Nationals (two wins, one loss) were suddenly bright again in his mind, as if he had been sweet sixteen yesterday. “I… oh.” Sanada breathed and the chatter rose back to normal levels again. Atobe only smirked and patted his arm. “How long have you known?”
Atobe raised an eyebrow and spoke after another sip of sake, “That you were the fukubuchou of Rikkai Dai or that you are incredibly forgetful?” He laughed as Sanada shot him a frown and a glare. “I don’t forget people as easily as you do as I’ve been blessed with wonderful memory. I’ve known since I helped you out back in Japan.” The brunette ran a careful hand through his hair and watched as Oishi dazzled his client with his spatula tricks.
“You should eat that before it gets any colder than it already is, Sanada-san.”
A quick look of surprise crossed his face before he gingerly crushed it back into impassivity. Sanada sighed inwardly again as he found himself following Atobe’s suggestion. No, it didn’t make it any easier to accept that he had been helped by a vague acquaintance of his in the past. He chewed slowly on his food as he looked between Oishi and Atobe, wondering how they had been able to keep in vague contact when Sanada had issues keeping up with his team as it was. The waiter returned to clear the counter free from plates and clutter. Sanada observed that the sake left in the bottle was still vying on full than empty. It would have been amusing if not for the fact that he was already a little pleasantly buzzed.
Atobe turned his attention back to Sanada and waited as the other man battled with the question that was about to be spilt from those lips. He had learnt that reading Sanada was rather easy, even if Sanada was attempting to be as emotionless as possible. But that position had already been filled by two other contenders - Tezuka and Wakashi - who made appearing ecstatic the same as being angry. So the small lip quirk that twitched on occasion was a good indicator.
“Sanada-san. What do you do now for a living?” Oishi’s voice broke into their conversation as he pressed a lid atop of the rice he had just been frying. Sanada blinked and turned away from Atobe, clearing his throat as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It had been awhile since old acquaintances had taken a passing fancy with his life and what he was up to.
Sipping at his cup, which Atobe refilled easily (the sneaky bastard), Sanada looked up to find Oishi smiling at him in polite interest. Did Atobe put him up to finding out about his present life? He wouldn't put it past the man. "I teach Japanese literature at Tokyo University," Sanada answered easily, his previous career left unsaid. Those wounds were still rather raw and Sanada doubted they will ever scab over in his lifetime.
The chef nodded his head in his ever understanding manner. Sanada realised that Oishi was not necessarily the sharpest knife in his arsenal. Especially with his next innocent question, "Where are you two spending your honeymoon then?" The implications of that question were enough for Sanada to start questioning his lucid state of mind (or lack thereof). He realised he must have looked a sight with his impression of a fish out of water that impressed some of the other patrons at the table. The sake must have had magical properties of stopping electrical signals between his neurons and his jaw.
"We're not- He's not my- I'm not gay!" Sanada hissed between his lips as his cheeks flared red. Whether from the sheer embarrassment or from the alcohol was anybody's guess. Atobe didn't seem to mind as he pouted in his general direction. Sanada buried his forehead into his palm a stifled a groan. How did he end up being teased and mostly drunk? He was very aware that he was incredibly lucky to have been having this conversation in another country where they were away from ears that could comprehend. Small miracles.
Oishi, for whatever redeeming quality left in him, realised his mistake and turned his attention back to the cooked rice underneath the lid with a number of apologies rolling off his tongue. The reservations had said a counter for two and Oishi had jumped to the wrong conclusion again. So he attacked the food with a flurry of movements to hide his sheer embarrassment. Oishi tossed in ingredients and flipped his spatula in a crowd pleasing way (cue more clapping from awed patrons). Vegetables were flipped in an array of colour and various non-edible bits of animals were delicately cut away; flicked into the garbage trough that must have run along the entire length where Oishi stood.
As Sanada was rather engrossed by the display of culinary flashiness, he didn't feel Atobe sneaking in. The man had a terrible tendency to do that and catch him unawares. "I'm hurt, Sanada-kun. Even after I went to all that trouble of arranging my private plane for your use for the next leg of the journey and this is the thanks I get?" That voice was quickly becoming infuriating and annoying in Sanada’s mind. Definitely one side of Atobe he didn’t want to be that well acquainted with. It certainly made Sanada want to do a number of despicable things to Atobe in a non-pleasurable and physical way.
Pulling the hand away from his face and using it to push the purring man out of his personal bubble, Sanada scowled and replied scathingly, "If someone who shall remain gloriously unnamed and therefore this could in fact be a hypothetical situation had waken me up on time to make the connecting flight. Then there would have been no need for you to make such inconvenient arrangements in the first place Atobe-kun." In his alcohol-induced fuzzy mind, the sober and sensible professor in him realised that it was quite possible to label this flirting. Under the umbrella of flirtation in the vaguest sense possible anyway.
There was another toothy grin and Atobe reassured Sanada it wasn't any inconvenience whatsoever. The man as more than happy to service Sanada in any way; the wording of that sentence was definitely not lost on him. But before he could fire back another of his witty replies when a bowl of rice was set in front of them by the waiter. Oishi planted their share of cooked seafood and slightly charred vegetables onto the counter next to the bowls. Charcoal apparently was the norm for teppanyaki as Oishi began the work of scraping off carbon from the hot plate.
The men returned to silence as Sanada fumed over his bowl of rice. He could just feel Atobe smiling next to him, his aura itself was radiating the man’s pleasure. Questions were asked by unabashed Chinese customers and terrible puns spoken in broken Japanese were said in vaguest attempt at complimenting. “Oishii, Oishi-san!” Such was the fine arts of communication as a burst of Cantonese broke forth and their tablemates burst out into amused laughter. Sanada was infinitely glad he never had aspirations of becoming a culinary genius as his patience would have run out years ago.
But it was not to say that Oishi’s creations were not delicious. The prawns had been cleaned, de-shelled and quartered. The scallops suffered a similar fate and a number of chopped vegetables had been tossed together. The final touches of his culinary masterpiece were added with a splash of soy sauce or three. Sanada thoroughly enjoyed the egg that was added in to give it a flavour he wouldn’t usually associate with fried rice. Once the hot plate had been scraped clean to the best of the chef’s abilities, he bowed once to his customers and bade them to enjoy their evening meal.
“Sanada-san, I am so sorry about earlier. I jumped to conclusions. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Sanada nodded once, not one to hold grudges and the chef’s face instantly brightened before he turned to the man seated next to him. “Atobe-san. It’s a pleasure seeing you again. I never would have thought to see you here of all places. May we cross paths again in the near future. Now if you’ll excuse me gentleman.” Oishi gathered his knives and trusty spatula and then disappeared behind a shoji door.
It wasn’t hard to believe that dinner had taken such a long time to consume and inside, Sanada was feeling very satiated with the knowledge that the airline wouldn’t be serving him such fresh seafood and deliciousness. Of course, if he had travelled in anything but cattle class it would have been a much different story. But on his pay Sanada had to be a little frugal with his spending.
With his bowl of rice clean and having firmly refused any more sake from Atobe, Sanada spent his time people watching. The only Caucasian (Atobe didn’t really count even if he did look the part) at the table had merrily mixed in all the sauces available into his rice. Dipping sauces normally reserved for beef tataki, a milder chilli sauce for the daring and a salty garlic sauce were generally and liberally mixed into his meal. It was rather amusing to watch. Atobe was left pouring the last few drops of sake into his cup and that was easily thrown into the back of his throat.
He was envious of the way Atobe could drink like a fish and still appear to be in control of all his facilities without a flush of pink to give him away. If Sanada hadn’t spent all those hours in the sun developing his tan to hide his tell-tale Asian alcohol glow, he may have been easily identified as red. So he was rather glad when dessert came about and Sanada didn’t have to dwell upon his abysmal alcohol tolerance. After all, there was nothing like sorbet as an easy distraction.
Part 3 →
A/N: Second part of Fate :D I swear this movie is moving at a pace that a snail could overtake, but I guess I will eventually get to a part where things happen and then it will all go woosh. But for now the pace will be kinda slow. Next part, we'll get Atobe's input of the entire situation. c: Thanks again to erulisse for betaing.
And that teppanyaki story about the caucasian. True story.
[Fandom | Tenipuri ]
[Characters | Atobe, Sanada ]
[Rating | This Chapter: PG-13, NC-17 (eventually) ]
[Word Count | 5 972 ]
[Warnings | AU, Seme!Keigo (eventually) ]
[Summary | Sanada is uprooted from his idyllic lifestyle by a sudden phone call. He meets a helpful mysterious stranger who helps him through a series of life's challenges. ]
[Disclaimer | I do not own ANY of these boys. I merely play with Konomi's toys when he's not looking. ]
⇠ Part 1
The elevator opened and the two men walked inside. Atobe offered his empty hand out and spoke, “The pleasure to meet you is all mine.” Sanada thought that the wording of that statement was strange but shook the proffered hand nonetheless, not quite sure how to react to that outside of common courtesy. It didn’t seem to affect Atobe as their hands let go as the lift doors opened to their level. Sanada followed behind Atobe with his cane as they reached the hired room.
Atobe opened the room with key card and held the door open for Sanada. What lay inside was bigger than his entire apartment, the room decorated with opulent decorations. In the middle of the room lay a large king sized bed, the soft pillows and clean white linen beckoning him. A comfortable looking couch sat near the large floor to ceiling windows offering a meagre view of Hong Kong’s scenery. Not that there was much scenery that wasn’t shrouded by clouds of gray pollution to be admired anyway.
The door was closed with finality and Atobe laid Sanada’s bag to rest next to a black leather bag by the small luggage rack near the wardrobe. “Please feel free to use the room as you please. I shall wake you up when it is time to leave.” The other man moved to pick up his possessions and settled on the couch with a small reassuring grin. The blonde pulled out a sleek black laptop and within moments appeared to the world to be engrossed in work. Sanada knew the other man was trying to give him some privacy if that rather broad back facing him was any indication.
Making full use of the facilities available, Sanada instantly picked up his bag and retreated into the lavish bathroom. A functioning shower stood in the corner and he immediately homed in onto the taps before adjusting the temperature to suit his liking. He opened his bag and pulled out some clean underwear. Looking around the room he found everything in small bottles and packaging and Sanada easily located the shampoo. With a soft sigh, he stepped into the warm inviting shower and instantly felt his stiff muscles slowly relaxing underneath the spray. Even though he was a professor at Tokyo University with plenty of overseas seminars and forums, Sanada could never quite adjust to the tolls of flying. In that instant he realised that although Kirihara had become a pilot in the end (who could have known the young terror was into aircrafts), he didn’t envy him one iota. It was a good thing he had become a teacher in the end. Even if it hadn’t been his first career choice.
The water felt sinfully good as it sluiced over his scarred back and Sanada let out yet another content purr. He didn’t want to deal with second guessing Atobe’s every move right now, more than happy to indulge in the simple things in life like the feel of shampoo in his hair and the lather of soap cleaning off sweat and grime after an unrelaxing flight. Now that his mind was firmly back on his supposed saviour, the dark haired man stepped back under the spray to wash off the lather and felt his mind furiously attempting to dissect the situation in his mind.
What did Atobe have to gain for helping Sanada out? Sanada knew he wasn’t exactly the modern day gorgeous male, but he had been assured by many that he was fairly handsome (despite Niou and Yagyuu’s many attempts at giving him a wardrobe makeover, Sanada still held firmly to what they deemed ‘old man’ habits). That ruled out human trafficking firmly. Besides, he had read reports that it was mostly young females that were targeted and he was neither of those.
What of romantic interest? He had to admit this one was possible. Atobe had been practically feeling his chest up earlier. He scowled down at his stomach as he remembered his traitorous body’s reaction. If his female colleagues knew about this, he would never hear the end of it. They were always ranting on about how romantic it was to meet some handsome stranger that would save them when in dire need and how love would blossom between them as the sweet damsel and the handsome stranger would bond over the circumstances. Of course they were all twittering idiot, despite the piece of paper that made them qualified twittering idiots, and Sanada couldn’t see himself as any sort of damsel. The other man had seemed sincere in his help but Sanada couldn’t quite dismiss this idea. He left it on the back burner.
That didn’t leave many plausible explanations left. After all, the man had approached him earlier at the terminal. To his knowledge, it couldn’t just have been coincidence that blew Atobe to him. So Sanada settled for ‘some-god-up-there-is-playing-hot-and-cold’. He hadn’t been expecting Atobe at all after the flight. And yet here he was in a room with Atobe. Well one room away anyway but a room nevertheless.
A knock came from the door and Atobe’s muffled voice broke into his thoughts from the other side, “Sanada-san? Are you alright?” Sanada flushed despite himself, feeling oddly embarrassed of the current situation. The pads on his fingers were all wrinkly and he realised he may have been stewing under the warm water longer than he had estimated.
“There is no cause for alarm. I was just enjoying the water,” Sanada replied and stepped out of the shower and tying a white towel around his waist. “I’m sorry, did you need to use the bathroom?” He felt safe behind the locked door of the bathroom though and still couldn’t bring himself to just trust the other man. It was much easier to be wary of strangers just like every good mother would teach her children. There was a sound of disagreement from the other side of the door followed by a brief explanation of how Atobe had been worried about Sanada being in the bathroom too long. The man left the door, presumably to get back to his laptop, and Sanada breathed a sigh of relief.
There was still that feeling of a caged lamb that was being toyed with by the wolf and Sanada didn’t like it one bit. He reasoned with himself as he dried the water from his body that perhaps trusting Atobe would be alright. At least until their flight arrived anyway. Then he wouldn’t have to see Atobe ever again and that would be that. After all, there were better things to worry about other than his own wellbeing that waited for him in the foreign English speaking country on a sterile white hospital bed. Sanada shook himself physically free from that thought and stowed his clothes back into his bag after changing into a clean shirt.
His bag was returned to the small wooden piece of furniture next to what he assumed to be Atobe’s bag and looked to find the owner of the bag. Atobe was lounging casually on the only sofa in the room and had sent a casual look over his shoulder. Their eyes met for a moment and Sanada felt mesmerised at the charming blue gaze.
“Please make yourself at home. I hope the bed is comfortable for you,” Atobe said and politely turned around back to the glowing laptop screen where Sanada could make out a number of spreadsheets on display. Sanada spoke his thanks and walked over to the rather inviting looking bed. Plush covers were pulled back away from where they lay tucked in between the ensemble and the mattress and Sanada gratefully slithered in. He was out like a light before he knew it.
***
“…Sanada-san!” The teacher snapped awake when he felt someone shake his shoulder, pulling him away from the rather pleasant dream he had been having; back into the depths of reality where Yukimura had been in an accident. Sanada sat upright abruptly and nearly smashed his forehead against someone’s face if it hadn’t been for that particular someone’s fast reactions.
“The connecting flight to London!” Sanada blurted out and looked on in horror as he realised the clock next to the bed blinked merrily that the flight had already left a solid two hours ago. He felt his stomach drop further than it had ever dropped before and the tendrils of panic began to unfurl from the very pits of where his stomach now currently lay. He glared angrily at the brunette who seemed rather amused at the entire situation. “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”
He ran a shaky hand hastily through his hair and felt disgusted at the clammy feel of his palms. The next flight would be another couple of hours Sanada was certain and that meant additional time away from Yukimura because of that brunette gangly idiot hadn’t the decency to wake him up at a time which could be labelled as early. There was so many things to do like talk and negotiate with the airline to put him on the next flight to London, the brunette be damned if he had important business there as well.
“I tried, but you were sleeping rather deeply. Sanada-san, what are you doing?” Atobe asked as he watched the dark haired man swivel out of bed and nearly kicked him in the stomach in the process. Sanada shot him yet another glare, wondering how the man had the gall to ask him what he was doing when it was evident that he had to go talk to someone about the next transferring flight to London.
When it became evident Sanada wasn’t going to answer him - the violent force the other man exerted on his clothes being one indicator - Atobe let out a sigh and stood up gracefully from the bed. The sound of the door handle being jiggled brutally filled the air, the force applied by Sanada nearly enough to pull the entire thing off its socket. Then they would have been screwed. Sanada cursed the day hotels invested money into things like technology.
A cool hand wrapped around his and Sanada stilled his attempt at freedom (curse the day you and your mother were born, door handle!). He stilled even further when he felt Atobe’s body press against his back and a whisper so close to his ear that would make a lesser man squirm away. “If you’d stop trying to escape for a minute and let me explain,” the voice said next to his ear causing the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the sheer close proximity of the other man. Did he have no shame?
“I’m going to yell murder,” Sanada intoned boredly and he felt strong hands turn him around like some kind of meat on a rotisserie before his back was pressed gently against hard wood. He found it difficult not to meet Atobe’s eye as the other man spoke in that patient tone of voice that just felt like melted butter. The tone of voice one would use on a very slow child. Sanada didn’t appreciate it but managed to keep his threat in his mouth, for now anyway.
The grip on Sanada’s upper arm was firm and didn’t let up at all during Atobe’s speech. “Look, I know you need to get to London as soon as possible, but fighting me is not going to help it. I have some good news however. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Will you agree to act like a civilised adult when I let go of you?” The question was reasonable and Sanada was ashamed to say that his behaviour was not in that particular category at the moment, but it hardly seemed fair when childhood friend was lying in a comatose state on a hospital bed in another continent. As far as civilised adults and uncivilised panicked adults went, Sanada was making good headway into the latter category. He nodded with a grumble anyhow and didn’t attempt to whip around and try for escape once more.
Atobe released the arm and took a step back to maintain some illusion of personal space. He observed without batting an eyelid at the other man’s interpretation but let it slide in lieu of Atobe’s supposed good news. “It is true we have missed the flight. So I have taken the liberty of arranging other transportation to London.”
What kind of other transportation could get two adult males from Hong Kong to London? Sanada grunted, “The magical teleportation powers of pixie dust?” The sarcastic remark was not lost on Atobe who blithely replied that if he had been in possession of said pixie dust, they wouldn’t have bothered getting on the plane in Japan in the first place. Sanada scowled noting that he was once again far from being the normal calm man he was renowned to be. Must be all this stranger’s fault, he thought with a growl.
Atobe gave him an odd look and quickly remedied to fill Sanada in. “You won’t have any luck getting a connecting flight to London until tomorrow. I’ve checked already so you have no room for argument.” Sanada immediately snapped his jaws shut and wondered when he had become so easy to read. “Naturally, I’ve arranged for a private plane to get us to London which will be ready for take-off in three hours, or so I’ve been told. The decision, as it always had been, is up to you. If you so choose to accept my offer, we could have a spot of dinner before take-off.”
Faintly in the back of his mind, Sanada realised just how Atobe had a natural knack for the art of manipulation. Admittedly, with a begrudging and traitorous gurgle from his stomach, Atobe had made quite an offer. An offer that was becoming increasingly difficult to pass up when he realised that there was a proper dinner in it for him versus the slop international airlines disguised as food. The other man had the gall to smile calmly as if he had already won; the smarmy bastard was terribly good at manipulation. Sanada found himself accepting and being the recipient of a very warm grin that seemed to light up Atobe’s face, making the other man seem younger.
“Come along then. What do you feel like eating?” Atobe asked as he turned around to gather his own leather bag and flicked off the lights to the room with the palm of his hand. The room was swathed in darkness except for the small green LED light by Sanada’s hip. Sanada panicked a little at the dark, feeling the all consuming darkness wrap around him except for the dull orange light in the far side of the room from the streetlights outside and the yellow light that tickled at his feet. He took a deep calming breath and started when he felt Atobe’s hand slide down his left side to reach the door handle.
“A bit jumpy, aren’t we?” came a small voice from near his right ear, Sanada could just hear the pity in the other man’s voice even if there had been none to find. Atobe gently pressed his bag and his free fingers against Sanada’s waist and pulled the man close. A face was pressed into the crook of a neck and a shoulder. Sanada inhaled out of the need to get his shit together and not appear like some damsel in distress, feeling oddly warm at the not quite embrace Atobe had on him.
The door slid open easily under Atobe’s experienced hand and the light from the corridor suddenly flooded the room. As if someone had poked him with a red hot iron, Sanada pulled away from Atobe and walked into the corridor. The door to the room closed shut behind Atobe with a click of finality and before the Sanada knew it, elevator music was being played as they slowly rode the contraption down to the lobby. He recalled pretending not to notice when Atobe spent most of the ride staring intently at him which seemed to stretch on and on.
Atobe cleared his throat and tapped his fingers on the handle of his leather bag, intent on starting a conversation it seemed. “I hope you don’t mind teppanyaki. I’ve been recommended the chef before and tried his style back when he was still serving in Tokyo. If you don’t particularly feel for Japanese right now we could try something else in the airport. Naturally I’ll pay since I’m the one that dragged you here.” Sanada shook his head, mentioning that teppanyaki was more than fine. The last thing he needed at the moment was to owe Atobe anymore than he already had. He had all intentions of never seeing Atobe again after he got to London after all.
They walked the threshold of the lobby and Sanada joined Atobe at the counter as the man returned the card key and paid for the room. He felt a faint flush of shame when he realised that a number of patrons were giving them disapproving looks. Honestly, was nothing sacred in modern society anymore? People should stop jumping to conclusions. “Sanada-san. I’m going to leave my bag at the concierge so we can enjoy dinner together without having to worry. Might I suggest you do the same?”
Sanada nodded, wondering when it became easier to just agree with what the man wanted instead of putting up a fuss, and handed his suitcase to the helpful porter hovering by the counter. Long established that Atobe had not one ounce of shame in his rather lithe body, Sanada chose to ignore the inquisitive looks of the public who undoubtedly had a field day with Atobe’s innocent question.
The pair made it inside the restaurant and were shown to their seats. The place had a warm ambience and atmosphere though Sanada was pretty certain it wasn’t his particular kind of scene. He hardly ate outside when he could help it as it was. Between lectures and his ongoing projects with his post-graduate students, cafeteria food had become a staple in his diet. This was definitely a step in a direction that Sanada was unfamiliar with.
The waiter helped the duo rearrange their jackets and asked if he could take their drink orders. Sanada blithely opened the menu to the last page and immediately blanched at the prices. Some of the alcohol listed was from foreign countries but there were a fair number of the items listed hailing from Japan and he hadn’t even heard of. Atobe took over easily when he made up his mind on the most expensive sake for two. The waiter bowed and immediately scuttled away to get the drinks ready.
Sanada turned in his seat about to say thanks but no thanks to the alcohol, only to find Atobe smiling at him in that smarmy knowing kind of way, “I know what you’re thinking, but trust me on this one.” He closed his mouth and frowned. Alcohol wasn’t exactly required in his diet and it was a definite bad thing if he was to become inebriated in Atobe’s presence. It was even worse than falling asleep with the other man in the same room because who knew what kind of shenanigans Atobe had in store for a drunk Sanada.
When the waiter returned with the sake and two small cups, Atobe ever so graciously put in two orders of the dinner special. Sanada had been eyeing it earlier, but the man seemed to lord over him without asking for his opinion. In the long run it didn't matter, but Atobe was certainly not making liking him any easier; aside from arranging an alternative way of getting to London without having to deal with more potentially arrogant airline workers. That was a small miracle in itself so Sanada let the whole ordering dinner for him thing slide.
A small cup was pushed towards him and Sanada looked up in time to see Atobe lift his own cup and empty it down his throat. He picked up the cup and gingerly brought it to his lips. The clear liquid was slick and surprisingly cool as it slid down his throat. If it wasn’t for Renji who insisted on dragging him every weekend for drinks and to meet up with the old junior high tennis team (or the few that still resided in Japan), Sanada could imagine the alcohol content easily doing him in after the third or fourth cup.
The sake wasn’t unpleasant on the tongue undoubtedly due to the price tag making it so. Atobe easily kept the sake flowing as the seats around them slowly filled up with the other patrons of the chef. Sanada had a sinking suspicion that teppanyaki had been on the cards ever since he had fallen asleep. If the chef was as well sought out as Atobe made him seem, reservations for this place must go through the roof. This brought another frown to Sanada’s face. The price tag had obviously bellied to what a classy joint the Izakaya and its respective restaurants was. He doubted another opportunity like this would crop up again in this lifetime. Not on his meagre pay anyway.
All around him were couples and single businessmen all dressed up and he fought down the urge to squirm. He felt rather underdressed for such an occasion, but he never figured that there would be a need for a suit when in a hospital. Atobe, as if he was psychic, leaned in close to his ear and whispered reassurances that Sanada was fine the way he was. His breath tickled against his ear and Sanada ducked his head as he refilled his cup from the bottle. It was like the Tardis of alcohol.
Despite his misgivings of what Atobe’s aims may have been, he felt rather relaxed as he spent his time observing people. He spent his time thinking up small ludicrous stories as to where they may have hailed from and what brought them to the Izakaya on this particular night. The sake was rather potent as he realised his tales may have easily belonged to his nephew. Though he was fairly certain Sasuke would deem his works of intellectual genius on a whole different plane than his uncle’s alcoholic ramblings.
Soon enough all the seats at the counter were filled and the chef made his appearance with his utensils wrapped in what must have been some kind of sacred cloth, much to the delight of the clapping Chinese fans. The chef bowed and a waiter came past with a trolley full of uncooked food as per the orders of the customers. Sanada watched as the chef made a spectacular show out of cooking, though he easily hid his enthusiasm and awe behind a blank mask.
The chef turned to place the entrees of the orders in front of his patrons and was surprised to see Atobe there. “Atobe-san! I didn’t expect to see you here,” the man spoke in fluent Japanese as he set plates of carefully prepared beef tataki in front of them. The brunette accepted his portion with thanks and an easy smile as the chef continued to speak. “What brings you here to Hong Kong?”
Sanada picked up his chopsticks and attempted to not be the eavesdropper that he was, his interest was piqued indefinitely now that the chef claimed to know Atobe. Atobe calmly set his cup down and replied, “It has been some time hasn’t it, Oishi-san.” It was a good thing the piece of beef was safely in his mouth and he had begun chewing, because the irony of the situation was really not lost on Sanada. Especially with the chorus of ‘oishii’ the Chinese seem to have adopted when complimenting the chef … or was it addressing the chef, Sanada was rather unclear.
Then it dawned on him. These people were once opponents of his back when tennis was the sport to play and the tournaments were rampant with shirts flying and testosterone filled the air more than oxygen did. Atobe Keigo was Atobe Keigo the one and only tennis captain of Hyoutei and self proclaimed diva (drama llama in Sanada’s eyes). Well, it certainly made sense why Atobe was so manipulative, what with all the years of practice he had put in. He peered inconspicuously at the chef through his fringe - who was chatting rather amicably with Atobe - and racked his brains to put a name to a team in his mind.
“You’re Oishi Shuuichirou,” Sanada stated blandly as he read the man’s name tag, much to the amusement of Atobe. He whipped around to stare at his drinking buddy (not so much buddy but random person who was conveniently there). “And you’re Atobe Keigo.” There was a moment of confusion between the two men as they exchanged a worried glance. It was like being part of an in joke but not really. ‘Kami-sama, am I ever slow,’ Sanada thought as he fought the urge to press his face against the counter and bang it repeatedly. Embarrassment could not even begin to label how Sanada felt at that moment, not that he would ever admit to that.
There was another moment where the background sound of the other patrons enjoying their entrees faded away into silence. Atobe met Sanada’s stare; mischievous blue against startled hazel. It was as if a wealth of information and memories came back, flooding his senses. All the memories from their Junior Senbatsu meets and the number of Nationals (two wins, one loss) were suddenly bright again in his mind, as if he had been sweet sixteen yesterday. “I… oh.” Sanada breathed and the chatter rose back to normal levels again. Atobe only smirked and patted his arm. “How long have you known?”
Atobe raised an eyebrow and spoke after another sip of sake, “That you were the fukubuchou of Rikkai Dai or that you are incredibly forgetful?” He laughed as Sanada shot him a frown and a glare. “I don’t forget people as easily as you do as I’ve been blessed with wonderful memory. I’ve known since I helped you out back in Japan.” The brunette ran a careful hand through his hair and watched as Oishi dazzled his client with his spatula tricks.
“You should eat that before it gets any colder than it already is, Sanada-san.”
A quick look of surprise crossed his face before he gingerly crushed it back into impassivity. Sanada sighed inwardly again as he found himself following Atobe’s suggestion. No, it didn’t make it any easier to accept that he had been helped by a vague acquaintance of his in the past. He chewed slowly on his food as he looked between Oishi and Atobe, wondering how they had been able to keep in vague contact when Sanada had issues keeping up with his team as it was. The waiter returned to clear the counter free from plates and clutter. Sanada observed that the sake left in the bottle was still vying on full than empty. It would have been amusing if not for the fact that he was already a little pleasantly buzzed.
Atobe turned his attention back to Sanada and waited as the other man battled with the question that was about to be spilt from those lips. He had learnt that reading Sanada was rather easy, even if Sanada was attempting to be as emotionless as possible. But that position had already been filled by two other contenders - Tezuka and Wakashi - who made appearing ecstatic the same as being angry. So the small lip quirk that twitched on occasion was a good indicator.
“Sanada-san. What do you do now for a living?” Oishi’s voice broke into their conversation as he pressed a lid atop of the rice he had just been frying. Sanada blinked and turned away from Atobe, clearing his throat as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It had been awhile since old acquaintances had taken a passing fancy with his life and what he was up to.
Sipping at his cup, which Atobe refilled easily (the sneaky bastard), Sanada looked up to find Oishi smiling at him in polite interest. Did Atobe put him up to finding out about his present life? He wouldn't put it past the man. "I teach Japanese literature at Tokyo University," Sanada answered easily, his previous career left unsaid. Those wounds were still rather raw and Sanada doubted they will ever scab over in his lifetime.
The chef nodded his head in his ever understanding manner. Sanada realised that Oishi was not necessarily the sharpest knife in his arsenal. Especially with his next innocent question, "Where are you two spending your honeymoon then?" The implications of that question were enough for Sanada to start questioning his lucid state of mind (or lack thereof). He realised he must have looked a sight with his impression of a fish out of water that impressed some of the other patrons at the table. The sake must have had magical properties of stopping electrical signals between his neurons and his jaw.
"We're not- He's not my- I'm not gay!" Sanada hissed between his lips as his cheeks flared red. Whether from the sheer embarrassment or from the alcohol was anybody's guess. Atobe didn't seem to mind as he pouted in his general direction. Sanada buried his forehead into his palm a stifled a groan. How did he end up being teased and mostly drunk? He was very aware that he was incredibly lucky to have been having this conversation in another country where they were away from ears that could comprehend. Small miracles.
Oishi, for whatever redeeming quality left in him, realised his mistake and turned his attention back to the cooked rice underneath the lid with a number of apologies rolling off his tongue. The reservations had said a counter for two and Oishi had jumped to the wrong conclusion again. So he attacked the food with a flurry of movements to hide his sheer embarrassment. Oishi tossed in ingredients and flipped his spatula in a crowd pleasing way (cue more clapping from awed patrons). Vegetables were flipped in an array of colour and various non-edible bits of animals were delicately cut away; flicked into the garbage trough that must have run along the entire length where Oishi stood.
As Sanada was rather engrossed by the display of culinary flashiness, he didn't feel Atobe sneaking in. The man had a terrible tendency to do that and catch him unawares. "I'm hurt, Sanada-kun. Even after I went to all that trouble of arranging my private plane for your use for the next leg of the journey and this is the thanks I get?" That voice was quickly becoming infuriating and annoying in Sanada’s mind. Definitely one side of Atobe he didn’t want to be that well acquainted with. It certainly made Sanada want to do a number of despicable things to Atobe in a non-pleasurable and physical way.
Pulling the hand away from his face and using it to push the purring man out of his personal bubble, Sanada scowled and replied scathingly, "If someone who shall remain gloriously unnamed and therefore this could in fact be a hypothetical situation had waken me up on time to make the connecting flight. Then there would have been no need for you to make such inconvenient arrangements in the first place Atobe-kun." In his alcohol-induced fuzzy mind, the sober and sensible professor in him realised that it was quite possible to label this flirting. Under the umbrella of flirtation in the vaguest sense possible anyway.
There was another toothy grin and Atobe reassured Sanada it wasn't any inconvenience whatsoever. The man as more than happy to service Sanada in any way; the wording of that sentence was definitely not lost on him. But before he could fire back another of his witty replies when a bowl of rice was set in front of them by the waiter. Oishi planted their share of cooked seafood and slightly charred vegetables onto the counter next to the bowls. Charcoal apparently was the norm for teppanyaki as Oishi began the work of scraping off carbon from the hot plate.
The men returned to silence as Sanada fumed over his bowl of rice. He could just feel Atobe smiling next to him, his aura itself was radiating the man’s pleasure. Questions were asked by unabashed Chinese customers and terrible puns spoken in broken Japanese were said in vaguest attempt at complimenting. “Oishii, Oishi-san!” Such was the fine arts of communication as a burst of Cantonese broke forth and their tablemates burst out into amused laughter. Sanada was infinitely glad he never had aspirations of becoming a culinary genius as his patience would have run out years ago.
But it was not to say that Oishi’s creations were not delicious. The prawns had been cleaned, de-shelled and quartered. The scallops suffered a similar fate and a number of chopped vegetables had been tossed together. The final touches of his culinary masterpiece were added with a splash of soy sauce or three. Sanada thoroughly enjoyed the egg that was added in to give it a flavour he wouldn’t usually associate with fried rice. Once the hot plate had been scraped clean to the best of the chef’s abilities, he bowed once to his customers and bade them to enjoy their evening meal.
“Sanada-san, I am so sorry about earlier. I jumped to conclusions. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Sanada nodded once, not one to hold grudges and the chef’s face instantly brightened before he turned to the man seated next to him. “Atobe-san. It’s a pleasure seeing you again. I never would have thought to see you here of all places. May we cross paths again in the near future. Now if you’ll excuse me gentleman.” Oishi gathered his knives and trusty spatula and then disappeared behind a shoji door.
It wasn’t hard to believe that dinner had taken such a long time to consume and inside, Sanada was feeling very satiated with the knowledge that the airline wouldn’t be serving him such fresh seafood and deliciousness. Of course, if he had travelled in anything but cattle class it would have been a much different story. But on his pay Sanada had to be a little frugal with his spending.
With his bowl of rice clean and having firmly refused any more sake from Atobe, Sanada spent his time people watching. The only Caucasian (Atobe didn’t really count even if he did look the part) at the table had merrily mixed in all the sauces available into his rice. Dipping sauces normally reserved for beef tataki, a milder chilli sauce for the daring and a salty garlic sauce were generally and liberally mixed into his meal. It was rather amusing to watch. Atobe was left pouring the last few drops of sake into his cup and that was easily thrown into the back of his throat.
He was envious of the way Atobe could drink like a fish and still appear to be in control of all his facilities without a flush of pink to give him away. If Sanada hadn’t spent all those hours in the sun developing his tan to hide his tell-tale Asian alcohol glow, he may have been easily identified as red. So he was rather glad when dessert came about and Sanada didn’t have to dwell upon his abysmal alcohol tolerance. After all, there was nothing like sorbet as an easy distraction.
Part 3 →
A/N: Second part of Fate :D I swear this movie is moving at a pace that a snail could overtake, but I guess I will eventually get to a part where things happen and then it will all go woosh. But for now the pace will be kinda slow. Next part, we'll get Atobe's input of the entire situation. c: Thanks again to erulisse for betaing.
And that teppanyaki story about the caucasian. True story.