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For:
songsheet// Jocey
Media: Fiction
Request: 1) Atobe/Jiroh - fic - whatever, as long as it ends with a happy ending, like them being together.
Warnings/Rating: Random crack . . . . pointlessness . . . . sneaky Oshitari . . . .
Beta:
crimson_raining
Notes: Gah!! I am sooooooooo sorry this is so bloody late. Anything I try to tell you would just be an excuse. Oh, I tried to put smut in it to redeem it of the utter crackiness but I failed.
Jiroh sighed as he fumbled endlessly with his Playstation 2 controller, his in-attention causing the death of his party for what had to be the hundredth time that night. His room had never felt so lonely before. Normally, this time of night, the slender blonde would be at Atobe Manor, in Atobe’s room that could, in most cases, be classified as it’s own house inside the manor, studying with the other boy.
Well, actually, most times it was more a case of Atobe studying and Jiroh watching him while he dozed in the big wingback chair in front of the diva’s fireplace. Although Jiroh tended to sleep his way through most of his classes, he was rarely forced to resorting to studying in order to pass a test. He always claimed he was learning through osmosis, which aggravated the blonde buchou to no end; which almost always led to a frustrated lecture involving wild flailing gestures and tight-lipped displeasure as it was explained to him that that was not how osmosis worked.
Jiroh didn’t mind the lectures so much though as he often became distracted from the topic by the shift of lithe muscle beneath enviously flawless skin as the diva flailed about, hands waving and gesturing in a way the tiny blonde never got tired of. The narcoleptic blonde lived for the rare times that Atobe would get so into a rant that he would throw his arms up in frustration, causing his shirt to lift just a little and giving Jiroh a teasing glimpse of skin.
However, for reasons beyond his control, Jiroh was not at Atobe manor, sitting in what Atobe had once dubbed “Jiroh’s slacking chair”, watching the tiniest furrow that would magically appear on Atobe’s brow as he tried to solve a particularly challenging question. Instead, he was in his room, alone, playing what had to, at the moment be the absolutely most frustrating game in all of existence, besides that crazy “Orphen” game, which Jiroh refused to acknowledge anymore.
Frustrated beyond all reason Jiroh flung the controller off his bed and flopped on the warm, comfy 100% Egyption cotton sheets Atobe had bought him for his birthday one year when they were both little, the sheets obviously having been custom made judging by the little tennis balls with wings expertly designed all over them.
He found himself staring at the phone, just wishing Atobe would call and demand to know if he had fallen asleep on “ore-sama” and order him to be ready within five minutes because the limo was being sent to fetch him. The thought made him sniffle abruptly as he acknowledged that the current state of affairs just might, kind of, sort of, maybe, be his fault.
It didn’t seem to matter that it had been an accident because what was done was done and Jiroh knew he couldn’t take it back.
Atobe was well aware of his own appeal. He worked hard to keep himself at his peak and he accomplished it well. Really, he should have realized that his appeal didn’t extend just to the girls, he should have known how it affected Jiroh. After all they had been best friends forever although the diva denied having friends, just followers. But he hadn’t known, and now he did and Jiroh had just screwed everything up.
The slender blonde wished he could just sleep until everything was alright again. Until Atobe forgot about that stupid, stupid kiss and they were best friends like before and Jiroh’s secret longing was a bearable, hidden ache in his chest.
But sleep was impossible. His normally random dreams had been replaced by looks of indignation and disgust and an indefinable taste that Jiroh’s body craved, but would never experience again.
The whole situation was utterly unbearable but no matter how hard Jiroh tried to fix things he knew that nothing would change until he talked to Atobe. However, that seemed impossible at the moment as the other boy was studiously avoiding him and had been for several days now.
Jiroh was getting fed up trying to figure out how to fix things when Atobe was making it so hard. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t supposed to be easy to fix but the blonde was sure it wasn’t supposed to be impossible. There had to be some way to get Atobe to listen to him, to just let him explain.
The narcoleptic boy hardly realized he was staring at the phone until his hand reached out and grabbed it off the hook, punching in numbers of their own accord.
It took three rings before anyone answered and Jiroh smiled triumphantly as he heard a very familiar Kansai ben accent on the other end. “Ne, Yuushi-san, this is Jiroh, I was wondering if you could help me?”
“Hnm? Help you?”
“I need to get hold of Tobe-chan,” Jiroh answered hopefully, somewhat elated by the deep cackle he heard in response.
“He’s avoiding you?”
Jiroh made a mumbling noise of discontent, which Oshitari seemed to take as an affirmative.
“Well,” Oshitari answered smugly as Jiroh heard a sound like that of rustling papers, “You’re in luck, I jut happen to have an opening in my schedual for such a good deed today.”
“Really?!”
“Would I lie?”
“Waa! Yuushi-san’s sugoi!” A small chuckle was all he received in response.
“Can you be outside the Manor in, twenty minutes?”
“Hai!”
“Alright, I’ll see you there,” here Jiroh nodded his head frantically as if the crafty tensai could see him, which, for all Jiroh knew, he could. “Ah, and Jiroh?”
“Yes?”
“You might want to wear that?”
“That? You think I’ll need it?”
“It’s always best to be prepared.”
“Hai!”
Another deep chuckle that would have made lesser creatures melt and then, “Ja ne, Jiroh-kun.”
Jiroh hung up and grinned, Oshitari always had the best plans, so maybe, things wouldn’t turn out so bad at all. For now Jiroh would have to change, after all, it wouldn’t due to keep the blue-haired boy waiting.
^__________________________^
Jiroh arrived right on time, only to find Oshitari was not alone. Gakuto grinned mischievously from the tensai’s side decked out in the same tight black spandex outfit that both Jiroh and Oshitari were sporting, designed specifically to enhance sneakiness, or so Oshitari had to him when he had given them out to the team.
Jiroh wasn’t sure about the sneakiness factor, but, seeing as Oshitari always seemed to be the sneakiest of them all, the narcoleptic blonde tended to trust the tensai’s word, probably more than he should.
Surprisingly enough, it didn’t take that long to sneak in as Oshitari and Mukahi seemed to have a back entrance to the Manor that they frequented. Jiroh didn’t question it, glad that he had called the right person for help. Once they were back in hallways that Jiroh was more familiar with they split up, Gakuto rubbing his hands together maliciously and muttering something about paintball while Oshitari stared at him indulgently.
Atobe was, unsurprisingly, right where Jiroh thought he would be, at the writing desk off to one side of his room tapping his pen on the desk in thought and sometimes rocking a little in the chair.
“Tobe-chan?” Jiroh whispered from behind the diva causing the taller blonde to start violently.
“Jiroh, I thought I told you I would be studying alone for a while.”
“You didn’t tell me Tobe, you got Kabaji to.”
Atobe shifted slightly guiltily before adopting his constant expression of superiority, “His word is as good as mine Jiroh, you should know that.”
“I know you are avoiding me.”
“I’m not, I’m just a little busy.”
“Tobe-chan!” Jiroh half shouted, frustrated at the soft ache welling in his chest. “I love you.”
Jiroh knew he had caught Atobe off guard, he had that same wide eyed look he’d had the first time he had ever been beaten in tennis, and the time he had almost failed a chemistry test, or when they had been playing tennis and Jiroh had sprained his ankle.
Jiroh closed his eyes; unable to look the object of his affections in the eyes for fear of the disgust he would see there.
However he couldn’t help but to look up when he heard Atobe whisper in a voice totally unlike himself, “But I’m a guy.”
“So? You never had a problem with it when Shishido and Ootori came out.”
“That was different,” Atobe snorted, waving his hand carelessly, “Everyone knows doubles partners are a little strange.”
“Tobe-chan!”
“What? What do you want me to say?” Atobe snapped. “I’m not gay! You can be, if you want, its just, weird, don’t you think so?”
“Weird?” Jiroh asked confused, “I don’t think it’s weird, it feels right to me to love you. Why should I care otherwise?”
Atobe didn’t look at him, just stared toward the fireplace, a look Jiroh couldn’t properly define dancing in his intense eyes. “Tobe-chan-”
“Is it weird of me, to think I love you back Jiroh?”
The lithe blonde started his eyes going wide at words he had never even dared hope to hear.
“I think about you all the time, and worry. I hate it when you talk about Fuji or Marui or anyone that isn’t me. Ever since you . . . you know . . . I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Is that love?”
“I dunno Tobe-chan, but I hope so.”
Atobe rolled his eyes, seeming to want t get away from such heavy conversation. “Hey, Jiroh, haven’t I seen that outfit before?”
“Outfit?” Jiroh asked, confused for a moment before he remembered the spandex.
“Wait . . . that’s Oshitari’s . . .” Atobe broke off, eyes widening in realization. “You let Oshitari into the Manor?!”
“He let me in,” Jiroh corrected though he was ignored.
“That little red demon was with him, wasn’t he!” Atobe accused, glaring.
“Maybe . . .” Jiroh murmured guiltily though happier than he had been in days.
“I swear I’ll chase it out with the dogs! I knew he was sneaking in here! Come on Jiroh!” Atobe grabbed his hand and began dragging him down the corridors, muttering things under his breath like “devil child,” and “Spiders the sock drawer I should have known.” But Jiroh wasn’t really paying attention as focused on the warmth of Atobe’s hand around his.
So maybe this wasn’t the ending he had expected but it was a hell of a lot better than he had expected and as long as he had Atobe, it was a happy end.
songsheet// Jocey
Media: Fiction
Request: 1) Atobe/Jiroh - fic - whatever, as long as it ends with a happy ending, like them being together.
Warnings/Rating: Random crack . . . . pointlessness . . . . sneaky Oshitari . . . .
Beta:
crimson_raining
Notes: Gah!! I am sooooooooo sorry this is so bloody late. Anything I try to tell you would just be an excuse. Oh, I tried to put smut in it to redeem it of the utter crackiness but I failed.
Jiroh sighed as he fumbled endlessly with his Playstation 2 controller, his in-attention causing the death of his party for what had to be the hundredth time that night. His room had never felt so lonely before. Normally, this time of night, the slender blonde would be at Atobe Manor, in Atobe’s room that could, in most cases, be classified as it’s own house inside the manor, studying with the other boy.
Well, actually, most times it was more a case of Atobe studying and Jiroh watching him while he dozed in the big wingback chair in front of the diva’s fireplace. Although Jiroh tended to sleep his way through most of his classes, he was rarely forced to resorting to studying in order to pass a test. He always claimed he was learning through osmosis, which aggravated the blonde buchou to no end; which almost always led to a frustrated lecture involving wild flailing gestures and tight-lipped displeasure as it was explained to him that that was not how osmosis worked.
Jiroh didn’t mind the lectures so much though as he often became distracted from the topic by the shift of lithe muscle beneath enviously flawless skin as the diva flailed about, hands waving and gesturing in a way the tiny blonde never got tired of. The narcoleptic blonde lived for the rare times that Atobe would get so into a rant that he would throw his arms up in frustration, causing his shirt to lift just a little and giving Jiroh a teasing glimpse of skin.
However, for reasons beyond his control, Jiroh was not at Atobe manor, sitting in what Atobe had once dubbed “Jiroh’s slacking chair”, watching the tiniest furrow that would magically appear on Atobe’s brow as he tried to solve a particularly challenging question. Instead, he was in his room, alone, playing what had to, at the moment be the absolutely most frustrating game in all of existence, besides that crazy “Orphen” game, which Jiroh refused to acknowledge anymore.
Frustrated beyond all reason Jiroh flung the controller off his bed and flopped on the warm, comfy 100% Egyption cotton sheets Atobe had bought him for his birthday one year when they were both little, the sheets obviously having been custom made judging by the little tennis balls with wings expertly designed all over them.
He found himself staring at the phone, just wishing Atobe would call and demand to know if he had fallen asleep on “ore-sama” and order him to be ready within five minutes because the limo was being sent to fetch him. The thought made him sniffle abruptly as he acknowledged that the current state of affairs just might, kind of, sort of, maybe, be his fault.
It didn’t seem to matter that it had been an accident because what was done was done and Jiroh knew he couldn’t take it back.
Atobe was well aware of his own appeal. He worked hard to keep himself at his peak and he accomplished it well. Really, he should have realized that his appeal didn’t extend just to the girls, he should have known how it affected Jiroh. After all they had been best friends forever although the diva denied having friends, just followers. But he hadn’t known, and now he did and Jiroh had just screwed everything up.
The slender blonde wished he could just sleep until everything was alright again. Until Atobe forgot about that stupid, stupid kiss and they were best friends like before and Jiroh’s secret longing was a bearable, hidden ache in his chest.
But sleep was impossible. His normally random dreams had been replaced by looks of indignation and disgust and an indefinable taste that Jiroh’s body craved, but would never experience again.
The whole situation was utterly unbearable but no matter how hard Jiroh tried to fix things he knew that nothing would change until he talked to Atobe. However, that seemed impossible at the moment as the other boy was studiously avoiding him and had been for several days now.
Jiroh was getting fed up trying to figure out how to fix things when Atobe was making it so hard. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t supposed to be easy to fix but the blonde was sure it wasn’t supposed to be impossible. There had to be some way to get Atobe to listen to him, to just let him explain.
The narcoleptic boy hardly realized he was staring at the phone until his hand reached out and grabbed it off the hook, punching in numbers of their own accord.
It took three rings before anyone answered and Jiroh smiled triumphantly as he heard a very familiar Kansai ben accent on the other end. “Ne, Yuushi-san, this is Jiroh, I was wondering if you could help me?”
“Hnm? Help you?”
“I need to get hold of Tobe-chan,” Jiroh answered hopefully, somewhat elated by the deep cackle he heard in response.
“He’s avoiding you?”
Jiroh made a mumbling noise of discontent, which Oshitari seemed to take as an affirmative.
“Well,” Oshitari answered smugly as Jiroh heard a sound like that of rustling papers, “You’re in luck, I jut happen to have an opening in my schedual for such a good deed today.”
“Really?!”
“Would I lie?”
“Waa! Yuushi-san’s sugoi!” A small chuckle was all he received in response.
“Can you be outside the Manor in, twenty minutes?”
“Hai!”
“Alright, I’ll see you there,” here Jiroh nodded his head frantically as if the crafty tensai could see him, which, for all Jiroh knew, he could. “Ah, and Jiroh?”
“Yes?”
“You might want to wear that?”
“That? You think I’ll need it?”
“It’s always best to be prepared.”
“Hai!”
Another deep chuckle that would have made lesser creatures melt and then, “Ja ne, Jiroh-kun.”
Jiroh hung up and grinned, Oshitari always had the best plans, so maybe, things wouldn’t turn out so bad at all. For now Jiroh would have to change, after all, it wouldn’t due to keep the blue-haired boy waiting.
^__________________________^
Jiroh arrived right on time, only to find Oshitari was not alone. Gakuto grinned mischievously from the tensai’s side decked out in the same tight black spandex outfit that both Jiroh and Oshitari were sporting, designed specifically to enhance sneakiness, or so Oshitari had to him when he had given them out to the team.
Jiroh wasn’t sure about the sneakiness factor, but, seeing as Oshitari always seemed to be the sneakiest of them all, the narcoleptic blonde tended to trust the tensai’s word, probably more than he should.
Surprisingly enough, it didn’t take that long to sneak in as Oshitari and Mukahi seemed to have a back entrance to the Manor that they frequented. Jiroh didn’t question it, glad that he had called the right person for help. Once they were back in hallways that Jiroh was more familiar with they split up, Gakuto rubbing his hands together maliciously and muttering something about paintball while Oshitari stared at him indulgently.
Atobe was, unsurprisingly, right where Jiroh thought he would be, at the writing desk off to one side of his room tapping his pen on the desk in thought and sometimes rocking a little in the chair.
“Tobe-chan?” Jiroh whispered from behind the diva causing the taller blonde to start violently.
“Jiroh, I thought I told you I would be studying alone for a while.”
“You didn’t tell me Tobe, you got Kabaji to.”
Atobe shifted slightly guiltily before adopting his constant expression of superiority, “His word is as good as mine Jiroh, you should know that.”
“I know you are avoiding me.”
“I’m not, I’m just a little busy.”
“Tobe-chan!” Jiroh half shouted, frustrated at the soft ache welling in his chest. “I love you.”
Jiroh knew he had caught Atobe off guard, he had that same wide eyed look he’d had the first time he had ever been beaten in tennis, and the time he had almost failed a chemistry test, or when they had been playing tennis and Jiroh had sprained his ankle.
Jiroh closed his eyes; unable to look the object of his affections in the eyes for fear of the disgust he would see there.
However he couldn’t help but to look up when he heard Atobe whisper in a voice totally unlike himself, “But I’m a guy.”
“So? You never had a problem with it when Shishido and Ootori came out.”
“That was different,” Atobe snorted, waving his hand carelessly, “Everyone knows doubles partners are a little strange.”
“Tobe-chan!”
“What? What do you want me to say?” Atobe snapped. “I’m not gay! You can be, if you want, its just, weird, don’t you think so?”
“Weird?” Jiroh asked confused, “I don’t think it’s weird, it feels right to me to love you. Why should I care otherwise?”
Atobe didn’t look at him, just stared toward the fireplace, a look Jiroh couldn’t properly define dancing in his intense eyes. “Tobe-chan-”
“Is it weird of me, to think I love you back Jiroh?”
The lithe blonde started his eyes going wide at words he had never even dared hope to hear.
“I think about you all the time, and worry. I hate it when you talk about Fuji or Marui or anyone that isn’t me. Ever since you . . . you know . . . I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Is that love?”
“I dunno Tobe-chan, but I hope so.”
Atobe rolled his eyes, seeming to want t get away from such heavy conversation. “Hey, Jiroh, haven’t I seen that outfit before?”
“Outfit?” Jiroh asked, confused for a moment before he remembered the spandex.
“Wait . . . that’s Oshitari’s . . .” Atobe broke off, eyes widening in realization. “You let Oshitari into the Manor?!”
“He let me in,” Jiroh corrected though he was ignored.
“That little red demon was with him, wasn’t he!” Atobe accused, glaring.
“Maybe . . .” Jiroh murmured guiltily though happier than he had been in days.
“I swear I’ll chase it out with the dogs! I knew he was sneaking in here! Come on Jiroh!” Atobe grabbed his hand and began dragging him down the corridors, muttering things under his breath like “devil child,” and “Spiders the sock drawer I should have known.” But Jiroh wasn’t really paying attention as focused on the warmth of Atobe’s hand around his.
So maybe this wasn’t the ending he had expected but it was a hell of a lot better than he had expected and as long as he had Atobe, it was a happy end.