Fic: Viscosity for xxmaddy
For:
xxmaddy
Media/um: Fic
Request: Atozuka/zukato fic/art (Get togther and angst preferred.)
Warnings/Rating: G
Notes: Urg. I'm sorry it's late and so horrible. D: I tried to finish it in time, and therefore it doesn't have the flow and general fluidity I like.
Hokay. I know it's bad, I'm sorry. D: It's choppy, inconsistance, and I don't know where the plot is. Time skips are probably confusing and everyone's OOC. It started out angst, turned kinda humor/gen, and then... did something I don't really know. And it's cliche.
@.@ I had issues with it as well. This is the fifth version I've started and only one I've completed. I have about five other 500 words starters that I tried out but never could go anywhere with. This was originally going to be OT5 as well.
-sigh- Anyway, I'm posting it now just because I don't want it to be TOO late. However, I will gladly write you another request as an apology for the general poo that this one is. Just give me a pairing and general plot/theme/keyword/genre or something. D: -dies-
Atobe Keigo was the perfect son. He had the perfect smile, the perfect laugh, the perfect face, and the perfect life. He was obedient, respectful, and intelligent. He could charm any guests, dance with a thousand daughters, and still have the calmest smile.
And as he brought the gloved hand up to his mouth for another ritual kiss, his glamour never faded. He slid his arm around the girl’s waist, his fingers brushing against the silken fabric as he pulled her closer all while wishing he was anywhere but here.
--------------------------------------
“Another dance, miss?”
Atobe bowed smoothly, offering his hand again as the music again. He smiled disarmingly at the girl, letting his bangs move in front of his eyes as he pinned her with soft gaze. He didn’t want to dance again, but it was expected of him to ask. After all, she was the oldest daughter of Father’s newest business partner, and it would only be polite.
The girl giggled and blushed expectedly, bringing one of her dainty little hands up to her mouth to cover the noise coyly. “Maybe later,” she said in what she thought was a teasing voice. She was two years older than Atobe, and maybe thought she shouldn’t give in to the charms of a younger boy so quickly. Or maybe she thought that she was playing hard to get. “I do have to dance with some of the other boys, Atobe-kun.”
It really didn’t matter.
Atobe smiled as he withdrew his hand, curling his fingers back in subtle distaste. “Regretfully,” he said as he gave another bow. He turned and walked off the dance floor, just as orchestra started up another waltz. He heard a disappointed sigh from the girl, upset at Atobe’s quickly concession to her refusal.
Atobe sauntered off the dance floor, fixing the cuffs of his designer suit. His father his eye and gave an approving nod. Atobe allowed himself a smirk as he walked outside, allowing the night air to cool his skin. His gray eyes scanned the area of the distance absently, the nightlife of Tokyo more vibrant compared weakly winkling stars above. He fixated his eyes downward, resting his forearms on the railing as he stared at one of their various decorative fountains.
And as he listened to the chattering of the party, the upbeat pace of the orchestra, and almost inaudible falling of water, Atobe waited for another night to be over.
--------------------------------------
“Keigo.”
Atobe didn’t bother to turn away from his vanity as he father entered the room, the smooth reflection in the mirror staring at him. He idly continued brushing his hair, his eyes meeting his father’s through the reflection. “Yes, father?”
“You did well today. The Yoshiba girl has requested that you perhaps come visit them in their summer home his summer. I trust you have no objections.” Atobe-sama kept his arms rigidly at his sounds, bending them neatly behind his back as he spoke. He kept his tone clinical, as though talking to another business partner instead of his son.
Atobe put his brush down, running his right hand through his hair as he turned his head at a slight angle to examine himself in the mirror. “Of course not, father.”
“Good. It’s important to have allies in the business world. They prove to be a valuable asset.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Father.”
“As you should.” Atobe-sama straightened his tie as he turned around, pausing for a second as he allowed the nearest maid to open the mahogany doors for him. “Goodnight, Keigo.”
“Goodnight, Father.” Atobe’s hand slid over his hairbrush again, gripping the wooden handle. His eyes hardened in his reflection as he watched his father’s retreating back disappear behind the door. ‘Whatever you say, Father.’
He grip tightened over the brush before he relaxed, closing his eyes for a moment in concentration. He let out a breath, removing his hand from the handle. “Gisel.”
One of the maids jumped at the sound of her name. She scurried forward at his command, smoothing out hem of her skirt nervously. “Yes, Keio-sama?”
“I’ll be retiring early tonight. Please get my things ready.” Atobe started standing up, straightening his robe from the likely wrinkles that had gathered during his nightly routine.
“Of course, Keigo-sama.”
“Of course, Father.”
----------------------------------
“Tezuka. Fancy seeing you here.”
Tezuka turned at the sound of the familiar drawl, the usually hint of self-assurance lacing his words. “Atobe,” he said politely in acknowledgement, nodding his head gently as a greeting.
“I never took you to be the type to join a party, Tezuka. Care to enlighten me?” Atobe said, sauntering closer to the Seigaku captain who looked to be trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.
Tezuka trailed his eyes across the sweeping dance floor, grand orchestra, and the chattering of gallantly dressed businessmen and their wives. “My father was recently promoted. Umino-san invited us for tonight.” He didn’t ask why Atobe was here; there was no reason to.
“Umino-san is a generous man,” Atobe lied. Umino-san wasn’t generous by means, not was he particularly greedy. A higher-up at one Tokyo business or anything that his father had likely introduced him to in an attempt to form another “alliance”.
”Hn.” Tezuka turned away, giving Atobe a chance to scrutinize the former. Clad in a light-blue-likely silk-shirt and black slacks, Tezuka didn’t particularly stand out because of his wardrobe. His hair was in its usual attractive disarray, and the silver frames of his glasses glimmered in the chandelier light.
It took Atobe a moment before he realized he was staring. He opened his mouth to apologize, only to be called over by his father.
He turned his head, his eyes raking across the crowd to pinpoint the voice. His eyes finally caught onto the slim outline of his father, dressed in another deep navy business suit as he entertained a few other guests. The hands of one of the guest rested on the shoulder of a young female, no more than sixteen years old. Her frame was slim and underdeveloped, and her short raven hair took at contrast against her ivory skin.
Atobe’s eyes narrowed in annoyance as he forced a smile, waiting to give the likely sparkles and flowers their queue.
He turned back to Tezuka, whose eyes analyzed him behind their glass enclosures. He remained silent and immutable as always.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Atobe said, giving a flourished hand gesture in feigned regret. He bowed his head politely under the scrutinizing eyes of his father as he turned and walked away, ready to sweep another giggling and frivolous girl off to the dance floor for another waltz.
----------------------------------
“…How did you get my number?”
Atobe laughed flippantly. “Honestly, Tezuka. Did you honestly need to ask? My family has various connections, after all. All it took was a phone call.”
“And a dance.”
Atobe paused at Tezuka’s assertion, his fingers gripping the handle of the antique Victorian phone just a little tighter. “Yes, and a dance.”
“Of course,” he continued after an uncertain pause, “That’s a small price to pay, a~hn?” He smirked into the phone, crossing his legs as he leaned back into the comfortable armchair.
“Why are you calling?” Tezuka asked, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.
Atobe laughed again, flipping away his bang with his free hand. “Can’t I call to simple say hello?”
“No.”
“So cold, Tezuka. You really should relax sometimes. Speaking of which, there’s another party this Friday night. Care to attend?” His twirled the hair at the base of his neck absently as he spoke, feeling the soft locks twine around his fingers.
“…”
Atobe almost laughed again at Tezuka’s usual laconic responses. “Wonderful. I’ll have my driver pick you up at eight. Oshitari is suppose to be attending as well, but I have a feeling that he will mysteriously fall sick and be nursed back to health by his generous, loyal doubles pa-”
Tezuka hung up
----------------------------------
“…”
“I look stunning as always, I know, but please refrain from staring so openly in public.” Atobe smirked, crossing his legs as his chauffer closed the down with a muted thud. In his own opinion, he did look more stunning than usual today: his hair had been abnormally cooperative, he went shopping two days ago, and just had manicure.
“…Good to see you too, Atobe,” Tezuka said, the lightest smile ghosting over his lips. Atobe almost didn’t notice but the humorous twinkle in the Seigaku captain’s eyes caught his interest.
“Of course you are.” He smiled this time, folding his hands on his knee as an unusually comfortable silence overtook them. Silence itself was unusual but most of the time, Atobe had a distaste of silence, stemmed from the stiff, formal, and utterly silent outing with his father. Atobe usually found that if someone else doesn’t talk, he would if only to have some sort of noise.
But, Atobe decided as he watched Tezuka from the corner of his eyes, the other captain absently staring out the tinted windows, perhaps this time, he didn’t mind.
----------------------------------
“You’re late.”
Atobe hid a smile as he pulled out a seat for himself, amused at the fact Tezuka didn’t even bother to look up from the slim blue notebook that rested in his hands. “My apologies. My doubles pairings were being punished for some…minor infractions. Nothing illegal, per say,” he said, his voice teasing, “just mentally scarring.”
“Hn.” Tezuka pushed his glasses up with his left hand, his right folding back one side of the notebook as he set it down onto the table.
“So, Tezuka,” Atobe continued, waving his head leisurely to hail one of the giggling waitresses over, “Business or pleasure today?”
Tezuka ignored Atobe’s teasing as he slid the notebook closer to Atobe for the other to see. “This is suppose to be next week’s line-up for the practice games against St. Rudolph. Inui hasn’t seen them yet but I thought I’d bring them by.”
Atobe took a sip up water from the newly delivered glass, biting back a grimace at the distinct taste of tap water. “Of course, of course. My brilliance will of course be of use to you.” He picked up the notebook, scanning the line-up and match-ups. “Hm, Inui-Kaidoh pair again, Tezuka? Hoping to have another Golden Pair around?”
“They make a good pair.”
“Indeed.” He continued running his eyes down the list. “Fuji is the alternate? He won’t be too pleased.”
Tezuka crossed his arms. “It was at his request.”
Atobe nodded. It sounded like something Fuji would do. The Fuji brother’s complex was known throughout the entire Kantou tennis circuit; it was a tennis player’s version of a soap opera. “I can imagine.” He slid the notebook back to Tezuka. “I see nothing wrong to change. I’m surprised you aren’t going to make things a bit different this time. After all, it’s not like. St. Rudolph will be a great challenge.”
Tezuka game Atobe a reprimanding look at his last comment which Atobe waved off. “Don’t try to deny it. St. Rudoph is a good time, not great. Anyway,” Atobe said, leaning back into the chair. “Have you ever played doubles, Tezuka?”
Tezuka raised an eyebrow, not seeing where the line of thought had come from.
Atobe laughed. “Doubles Tezuka. Yes or no?”
“No. People have asked but it never seemed like right time.”
“Hm,” Atobe said, standing up after the prolonged silence after his question. “I must be going, I’m afraid. However,” he said, pausing, “There’s another party this Saturday. I’ll pick you up seven.”
He didn’t let Tezuka protest; he never did.
----------------------------------
“Why do you always do that?”
Atobe looked up. “Hm? Do what?”
“Dance.”
Atobe laughed. “Why wouldn’t I dance?”
“Because you hate it.”
Atobe stopped, his eyes gazing idly not quite at Tezuka but behind him. His eyes dulled and his lips turned into the fakest smile yet. “It doesn’t matter whether I like it or not, Tezuka. I dance because others want me to, isn’t that enough?”
“Hn. But what is it you want, Atobe?” Tezuka started walking again, brushing past Tezuka as he headed to the intricate double doors that led to the garden of Eden that glowed in the taunting light of the moon.
----------------------------------
“Tezuka.”
The captain turned, his head in acknowledgement, never letting his eyes leave the earthlyglow that entrapped the garden. The stars glimmered brighter than normal, and the ever constant flow of the fountains almost fell in rhythm with the slow waltz that drifted outside from the ballroom. He remained silent, content on watching and waiting.
“Dance with me, Tezuka.”
“Why?”
Atobe slid his hands into Tezuka’s lightly tugging him further down into the garden, shielded by the shimmering flowers and plants. “Because, Tezuka. Just because.”
xxmaddy
Media/um: Fic
Request: Atozuka/zukato fic/art (Get togther and angst preferred.)
Warnings/Rating: G
Notes: Urg. I'm sorry it's late and so horrible. D: I tried to finish it in time, and therefore it doesn't have the flow and general fluidity I like.
Hokay. I know it's bad, I'm sorry. D: It's choppy, inconsistance, and I don't know where the plot is. Time skips are probably confusing and everyone's OOC. It started out angst, turned kinda humor/gen, and then... did something I don't really know. And it's cliche.
@.@ I had issues with it as well. This is the fifth version I've started and only one I've completed. I have about five other 500 words starters that I tried out but never could go anywhere with. This was originally going to be OT5 as well.
-sigh- Anyway, I'm posting it now just because I don't want it to be TOO late. However, I will gladly write you another request as an apology for the general poo that this one is. Just give me a pairing and general plot/theme/keyword/genre or something. D: -dies-
Atobe Keigo was the perfect son. He had the perfect smile, the perfect laugh, the perfect face, and the perfect life. He was obedient, respectful, and intelligent. He could charm any guests, dance with a thousand daughters, and still have the calmest smile.
And as he brought the gloved hand up to his mouth for another ritual kiss, his glamour never faded. He slid his arm around the girl’s waist, his fingers brushing against the silken fabric as he pulled her closer all while wishing he was anywhere but here.
--------------------------------------
“Another dance, miss?”
Atobe bowed smoothly, offering his hand again as the music again. He smiled disarmingly at the girl, letting his bangs move in front of his eyes as he pinned her with soft gaze. He didn’t want to dance again, but it was expected of him to ask. After all, she was the oldest daughter of Father’s newest business partner, and it would only be polite.
The girl giggled and blushed expectedly, bringing one of her dainty little hands up to her mouth to cover the noise coyly. “Maybe later,” she said in what she thought was a teasing voice. She was two years older than Atobe, and maybe thought she shouldn’t give in to the charms of a younger boy so quickly. Or maybe she thought that she was playing hard to get. “I do have to dance with some of the other boys, Atobe-kun.”
It really didn’t matter.
Atobe smiled as he withdrew his hand, curling his fingers back in subtle distaste. “Regretfully,” he said as he gave another bow. He turned and walked off the dance floor, just as orchestra started up another waltz. He heard a disappointed sigh from the girl, upset at Atobe’s quickly concession to her refusal.
Atobe sauntered off the dance floor, fixing the cuffs of his designer suit. His father his eye and gave an approving nod. Atobe allowed himself a smirk as he walked outside, allowing the night air to cool his skin. His gray eyes scanned the area of the distance absently, the nightlife of Tokyo more vibrant compared weakly winkling stars above. He fixated his eyes downward, resting his forearms on the railing as he stared at one of their various decorative fountains.
And as he listened to the chattering of the party, the upbeat pace of the orchestra, and almost inaudible falling of water, Atobe waited for another night to be over.
--------------------------------------
“Keigo.”
Atobe didn’t bother to turn away from his vanity as he father entered the room, the smooth reflection in the mirror staring at him. He idly continued brushing his hair, his eyes meeting his father’s through the reflection. “Yes, father?”
“You did well today. The Yoshiba girl has requested that you perhaps come visit them in their summer home his summer. I trust you have no objections.” Atobe-sama kept his arms rigidly at his sounds, bending them neatly behind his back as he spoke. He kept his tone clinical, as though talking to another business partner instead of his son.
Atobe put his brush down, running his right hand through his hair as he turned his head at a slight angle to examine himself in the mirror. “Of course not, father.”
“Good. It’s important to have allies in the business world. They prove to be a valuable asset.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Father.”
“As you should.” Atobe-sama straightened his tie as he turned around, pausing for a second as he allowed the nearest maid to open the mahogany doors for him. “Goodnight, Keigo.”
“Goodnight, Father.” Atobe’s hand slid over his hairbrush again, gripping the wooden handle. His eyes hardened in his reflection as he watched his father’s retreating back disappear behind the door. ‘Whatever you say, Father.’
He grip tightened over the brush before he relaxed, closing his eyes for a moment in concentration. He let out a breath, removing his hand from the handle. “Gisel.”
One of the maids jumped at the sound of her name. She scurried forward at his command, smoothing out hem of her skirt nervously. “Yes, Keio-sama?”
“I’ll be retiring early tonight. Please get my things ready.” Atobe started standing up, straightening his robe from the likely wrinkles that had gathered during his nightly routine.
“Of course, Keigo-sama.”
“Of course, Father.”
----------------------------------
“Tezuka. Fancy seeing you here.”
Tezuka turned at the sound of the familiar drawl, the usually hint of self-assurance lacing his words. “Atobe,” he said politely in acknowledgement, nodding his head gently as a greeting.
“I never took you to be the type to join a party, Tezuka. Care to enlighten me?” Atobe said, sauntering closer to the Seigaku captain who looked to be trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.
Tezuka trailed his eyes across the sweeping dance floor, grand orchestra, and the chattering of gallantly dressed businessmen and their wives. “My father was recently promoted. Umino-san invited us for tonight.” He didn’t ask why Atobe was here; there was no reason to.
“Umino-san is a generous man,” Atobe lied. Umino-san wasn’t generous by means, not was he particularly greedy. A higher-up at one Tokyo business or anything that his father had likely introduced him to in an attempt to form another “alliance”.
”Hn.” Tezuka turned away, giving Atobe a chance to scrutinize the former. Clad in a light-blue-likely silk-shirt and black slacks, Tezuka didn’t particularly stand out because of his wardrobe. His hair was in its usual attractive disarray, and the silver frames of his glasses glimmered in the chandelier light.
It took Atobe a moment before he realized he was staring. He opened his mouth to apologize, only to be called over by his father.
He turned his head, his eyes raking across the crowd to pinpoint the voice. His eyes finally caught onto the slim outline of his father, dressed in another deep navy business suit as he entertained a few other guests. The hands of one of the guest rested on the shoulder of a young female, no more than sixteen years old. Her frame was slim and underdeveloped, and her short raven hair took at contrast against her ivory skin.
Atobe’s eyes narrowed in annoyance as he forced a smile, waiting to give the likely sparkles and flowers their queue.
He turned back to Tezuka, whose eyes analyzed him behind their glass enclosures. He remained silent and immutable as always.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Atobe said, giving a flourished hand gesture in feigned regret. He bowed his head politely under the scrutinizing eyes of his father as he turned and walked away, ready to sweep another giggling and frivolous girl off to the dance floor for another waltz.
----------------------------------
“…How did you get my number?”
Atobe laughed flippantly. “Honestly, Tezuka. Did you honestly need to ask? My family has various connections, after all. All it took was a phone call.”
“And a dance.”
Atobe paused at Tezuka’s assertion, his fingers gripping the handle of the antique Victorian phone just a little tighter. “Yes, and a dance.”
“Of course,” he continued after an uncertain pause, “That’s a small price to pay, a~hn?” He smirked into the phone, crossing his legs as he leaned back into the comfortable armchair.
“Why are you calling?” Tezuka asked, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.
Atobe laughed again, flipping away his bang with his free hand. “Can’t I call to simple say hello?”
“No.”
“So cold, Tezuka. You really should relax sometimes. Speaking of which, there’s another party this Friday night. Care to attend?” His twirled the hair at the base of his neck absently as he spoke, feeling the soft locks twine around his fingers.
“…”
Atobe almost laughed again at Tezuka’s usual laconic responses. “Wonderful. I’ll have my driver pick you up at eight. Oshitari is suppose to be attending as well, but I have a feeling that he will mysteriously fall sick and be nursed back to health by his generous, loyal doubles pa-”
Tezuka hung up
----------------------------------
“…”
“I look stunning as always, I know, but please refrain from staring so openly in public.” Atobe smirked, crossing his legs as his chauffer closed the down with a muted thud. In his own opinion, he did look more stunning than usual today: his hair had been abnormally cooperative, he went shopping two days ago, and just had manicure.
“…Good to see you too, Atobe,” Tezuka said, the lightest smile ghosting over his lips. Atobe almost didn’t notice but the humorous twinkle in the Seigaku captain’s eyes caught his interest.
“Of course you are.” He smiled this time, folding his hands on his knee as an unusually comfortable silence overtook them. Silence itself was unusual but most of the time, Atobe had a distaste of silence, stemmed from the stiff, formal, and utterly silent outing with his father. Atobe usually found that if someone else doesn’t talk, he would if only to have some sort of noise.
But, Atobe decided as he watched Tezuka from the corner of his eyes, the other captain absently staring out the tinted windows, perhaps this time, he didn’t mind.
----------------------------------
“You’re late.”
Atobe hid a smile as he pulled out a seat for himself, amused at the fact Tezuka didn’t even bother to look up from the slim blue notebook that rested in his hands. “My apologies. My doubles pairings were being punished for some…minor infractions. Nothing illegal, per say,” he said, his voice teasing, “just mentally scarring.”
“Hn.” Tezuka pushed his glasses up with his left hand, his right folding back one side of the notebook as he set it down onto the table.
“So, Tezuka,” Atobe continued, waving his head leisurely to hail one of the giggling waitresses over, “Business or pleasure today?”
Tezuka ignored Atobe’s teasing as he slid the notebook closer to Atobe for the other to see. “This is suppose to be next week’s line-up for the practice games against St. Rudolph. Inui hasn’t seen them yet but I thought I’d bring them by.”
Atobe took a sip up water from the newly delivered glass, biting back a grimace at the distinct taste of tap water. “Of course, of course. My brilliance will of course be of use to you.” He picked up the notebook, scanning the line-up and match-ups. “Hm, Inui-Kaidoh pair again, Tezuka? Hoping to have another Golden Pair around?”
“They make a good pair.”
“Indeed.” He continued running his eyes down the list. “Fuji is the alternate? He won’t be too pleased.”
Tezuka crossed his arms. “It was at his request.”
Atobe nodded. It sounded like something Fuji would do. The Fuji brother’s complex was known throughout the entire Kantou tennis circuit; it was a tennis player’s version of a soap opera. “I can imagine.” He slid the notebook back to Tezuka. “I see nothing wrong to change. I’m surprised you aren’t going to make things a bit different this time. After all, it’s not like. St. Rudolph will be a great challenge.”
Tezuka game Atobe a reprimanding look at his last comment which Atobe waved off. “Don’t try to deny it. St. Rudoph is a good time, not great. Anyway,” Atobe said, leaning back into the chair. “Have you ever played doubles, Tezuka?”
Tezuka raised an eyebrow, not seeing where the line of thought had come from.
Atobe laughed. “Doubles Tezuka. Yes or no?”
“No. People have asked but it never seemed like right time.”
“Hm,” Atobe said, standing up after the prolonged silence after his question. “I must be going, I’m afraid. However,” he said, pausing, “There’s another party this Saturday. I’ll pick you up seven.”
He didn’t let Tezuka protest; he never did.
----------------------------------
“Why do you always do that?”
Atobe looked up. “Hm? Do what?”
“Dance.”
Atobe laughed. “Why wouldn’t I dance?”
“Because you hate it.”
Atobe stopped, his eyes gazing idly not quite at Tezuka but behind him. His eyes dulled and his lips turned into the fakest smile yet. “It doesn’t matter whether I like it or not, Tezuka. I dance because others want me to, isn’t that enough?”
“Hn. But what is it you want, Atobe?” Tezuka started walking again, brushing past Tezuka as he headed to the intricate double doors that led to the garden of Eden that glowed in the taunting light of the moon.
----------------------------------
“Tezuka.”
The captain turned, his head in acknowledgement, never letting his eyes leave the earthlyglow that entrapped the garden. The stars glimmered brighter than normal, and the ever constant flow of the fountains almost fell in rhythm with the slow waltz that drifted outside from the ballroom. He remained silent, content on watching and waiting.
“Dance with me, Tezuka.”
“Why?”
Atobe slid his hands into Tezuka’s lightly tugging him further down into the garden, shielded by the shimmering flowers and plants. “Because, Tezuka. Just because.”