Happy Spring to all the LADIES IN THE HOUSE.
Title: Fujouri
Recipient: It's ladies night!
Rating: PG at worst. I'm a wimp.
Pairing(s): Atobe/Ryoma aka Royal Pair
Warnings: I fail majorly at this.
Author's or Artist's notes: Special thanks to H for the inspiration and beta. --------, you are a sweetheart and I hope you enjoy this!
Atobe Keigo was proud--one might say overly so for a boy his age--and it showed. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he dressed, all were meticulously groomed and perfected to reflect that inner value of self-worth that he had in spades. When he spoke to you, you felt like the only person in the room, and you were more than glad to be awed by anything and everything he said. It was a general rule for anyone dealing with him that you merely basked in the glory of his presence, or at least tolerated it until the subject changed.
Echizen Ryoma didn't get the memo. From the day they met, Ryoma seemed bound and determined to get Atobe's proverbial goat, take it to the next prefecture, and sell it to a traveling farmer, all with a smile on his face. Among their mutual friends, such was generally regarded as a bad idea, but Ryoma never listened to them, either. Ryoma had a different kind of pride--the kind you wear out in bright colors on your shirt for all the world to see.
Ryoma's shirt clashed with Atobe's. Sometimes it did so openly, as it did at the National Tournament, with disastrous results. On the courts, the holy place of middle school tennis, the two truest enemies in the sport were created from a bet.
========
Atobe hated surprises more than he hated anything else in the world--save his new haircut. Plans were good and wonderful things when they were followed. So, you can easily imagine his utter distaste for the surprise that awaited him one late summer evening. He looked up at the other boy in disbelief, not even bothering to unshoulder his bag as he fished out one of his cell phones.
Street tennis courts. 7PM.
"I'm here to meet Tezuka," he stated simply, but even as he opened his mouth, he knew he'd been had. It was someone's idea of a sick joke for him to meet up with the little brat. Tezuka wasn't there and his instincts told him that Seigaku's captain would not be there any time soon.
Once he stopped laughing--at Tezuka's name--Ryoma retrieved his own phone. It was well past seven, and Atobe was supposed to meet with Tezuka as well? Something didn't add up.
Their eyes met, and they exchanged irritated looks. Fooling the other would have been amusing to either one of them, but fooling them both was inexcusable. Off in the darkness of the viewing stands, a familiar tone rang out. It went unanswered, muffled sometime after the second ring.
Atobe left in a huff. Ryoma rolled his eyes and headed home.
=======
The first time it happened, it was irritating. However, when Ryoma started showing up randomly wherever Atobe went, he couldn't help but be mildly angered. At first, it really seemed coincidental, Ryoma showing up on the way somewhere, or in the edge of Atobe's vision. Then the frequency increased, and he started to wonder if the little brat wasn't stalking him.
So, Atobe changed the route of his morning run without telling anyone, not even his staff. In doing such, he gained a few weeks of peace, absolutely Ryoma-free. Then, somehow, there the boy was again, following him intently.
At some point, Atobe got sick of the game. In the middle of his run, he stopped, doubled back a ways, only to find Seigaku's little prodigy waiting.
"You dropped something," Ryoma said nonchalantly, sipping his Ponta.
"What?" Atobe sniped back, in the coldest tone he could manage on such a warm morning.
In Ryoma's left hand--and somehow Atobe had failed to notice it until then--was a tennis ball. Slowly, the boy was tossing it, up and down, up and down. He paused, and without looking tossed it to Atobe, who caught it instinctively. His eyes traveled down to the ball, which had numbers written on it. A date and time. By the time Atobe looked up again, Ryoma was already walking away.
He couldn't be certain what about Ryoma was more irritating.
======
It was simple enough, with Atobe's resources, to figure out the sequence of events: Tezuka's phone went missing shortly after the National Tournament. Fuji spent an inordinate amount of time by himself at around the same time. Then, at some point, Ryoma started spending more time around Fuji. Atobe's eyes and ears at Seigaku confirmed this easily--they weren't making any secret of it--and passed the information along.
The entire affair was Fuji's idea. Atobe was convinced of this. Rather than be cajoled into some sort of rematch (which seemed to be the intention, for reasons even Atobe could not fathom), he ignored the entire affair. The date written on the tennis ball came, and Atobe spent it at a café with his teammates.
"But Ayumi isn't good enough for you, is she?" Oshitari's drawl was distinctive, and always lulled his captain into spilling more secrets than he would have otherwise.
"Ayumi? From 3B? The one who wants to be a model?" Jirou chimed in, because this was a conversation that interested him.
"She's ugly, though," Gakuto added, sipping at his strawberry shake. "That's why, right?"
"Atobe, Atobe, we expected so much more from--" Oshitari trailed off. Something at the door had caught his attention.
"She's a bore," Atobe responded, not even waiting for the tensai to finish his thought. "I wouldn't date her if she were the last girl in the school."
Jirou and Gakuto, who sat opposite their captain, suddenly looked up, over him. The redhead's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?" Before Atobe could turn around to see who they were talking to, a pair of hands flattened his hair's short, messy spikes.
"Are you a chicken, or a monkey?" And now Atobe didn't even have to look. He knew that voice, and it made his blood boil. Determined not to be baited, he kept his tone even. "You're following me again."
"It's not that hard to do when you make a show out of everything." Atobe set his jaw at that response.
"Leave us alone!" Gakuto rose from his seat, ready for a fight. Jirou grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back down.
"I'll handle this," Atobe said sternly, eyeing his teammates. "It's just a nuisance." He rose from his seat slowly, shrugging off the boy's hands and turning to grab Ryoma's arm. As gracefully as possible, he bodily dragged Ryoma out of the café, not stopping until they had rounded a corner and were in a more private, secluded area.
"You've made your point." He released Ryoma's arm rather more forcefully than was absolutely necessary. The younger boy didn't seem fazed by it.
"Not really," Ryoma replied, eyes flashing as a smirk spread across his face.
Atobe crossed his arms over his chest. "Then what is your point? I'm not going to play you again, and I refuse to get into some sort of altercation." He stared down at Ryoma, realizing for the first time just how big of a height difference there was between the two of them. There was absolutely no need to feel remotely challenged by such a little brat.
Just as Atobe was getting smug in his superiority, a small hand wrapped around his tie and pulled him down. Lips were suddenly pressed to his, and for the briefest of shocked moments, he stood still, one hand thrust out toward the wall for balance.
"Now I've made my point."
===========
OMAKE
"Stop moving around so much, Oshitari."
"It's hard to stay in this--why are we doing this, again?"
"Because I said so," Atobe hissed. "You're the one who volunteered to help me."
"I didn't think we would be hiding behind a row of hedges," Oshitari responded, turning to wave at a passer-by.
"Stop playing to the crowd and help me hold the limbs back." Atobe raised the binoculars to his eyes again, and focused on his target. Echizen Ryoma. "He's miserable at doubles... What idiot decided they were going to challenge them?"
"I did."
Atobe and Oshitari turned slowly to face none other than Seigaku's captain, Tezuka.
"Ah."
Recipient: It's ladies night!
Rating: PG at worst. I'm a wimp.
Pairing(s): Atobe/Ryoma aka Royal Pair
Warnings: I fail majorly at this.
Author's or Artist's notes: Special thanks to H for the inspiration and beta. --------, you are a sweetheart and I hope you enjoy this!
Atobe Keigo was proud--one might say overly so for a boy his age--and it showed. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he dressed, all were meticulously groomed and perfected to reflect that inner value of self-worth that he had in spades. When he spoke to you, you felt like the only person in the room, and you were more than glad to be awed by anything and everything he said. It was a general rule for anyone dealing with him that you merely basked in the glory of his presence, or at least tolerated it until the subject changed.
Echizen Ryoma didn't get the memo. From the day they met, Ryoma seemed bound and determined to get Atobe's proverbial goat, take it to the next prefecture, and sell it to a traveling farmer, all with a smile on his face. Among their mutual friends, such was generally regarded as a bad idea, but Ryoma never listened to them, either. Ryoma had a different kind of pride--the kind you wear out in bright colors on your shirt for all the world to see.
Ryoma's shirt clashed with Atobe's. Sometimes it did so openly, as it did at the National Tournament, with disastrous results. On the courts, the holy place of middle school tennis, the two truest enemies in the sport were created from a bet.
========
Atobe hated surprises more than he hated anything else in the world--save his new haircut. Plans were good and wonderful things when they were followed. So, you can easily imagine his utter distaste for the surprise that awaited him one late summer evening. He looked up at the other boy in disbelief, not even bothering to unshoulder his bag as he fished out one of his cell phones.
Street tennis courts. 7PM.
"I'm here to meet Tezuka," he stated simply, but even as he opened his mouth, he knew he'd been had. It was someone's idea of a sick joke for him to meet up with the little brat. Tezuka wasn't there and his instincts told him that Seigaku's captain would not be there any time soon.
Once he stopped laughing--at Tezuka's name--Ryoma retrieved his own phone. It was well past seven, and Atobe was supposed to meet with Tezuka as well? Something didn't add up.
Their eyes met, and they exchanged irritated looks. Fooling the other would have been amusing to either one of them, but fooling them both was inexcusable. Off in the darkness of the viewing stands, a familiar tone rang out. It went unanswered, muffled sometime after the second ring.
Atobe left in a huff. Ryoma rolled his eyes and headed home.
=======
The first time it happened, it was irritating. However, when Ryoma started showing up randomly wherever Atobe went, he couldn't help but be mildly angered. At first, it really seemed coincidental, Ryoma showing up on the way somewhere, or in the edge of Atobe's vision. Then the frequency increased, and he started to wonder if the little brat wasn't stalking him.
So, Atobe changed the route of his morning run without telling anyone, not even his staff. In doing such, he gained a few weeks of peace, absolutely Ryoma-free. Then, somehow, there the boy was again, following him intently.
At some point, Atobe got sick of the game. In the middle of his run, he stopped, doubled back a ways, only to find Seigaku's little prodigy waiting.
"You dropped something," Ryoma said nonchalantly, sipping his Ponta.
"What?" Atobe sniped back, in the coldest tone he could manage on such a warm morning.
In Ryoma's left hand--and somehow Atobe had failed to notice it until then--was a tennis ball. Slowly, the boy was tossing it, up and down, up and down. He paused, and without looking tossed it to Atobe, who caught it instinctively. His eyes traveled down to the ball, which had numbers written on it. A date and time. By the time Atobe looked up again, Ryoma was already walking away.
He couldn't be certain what about Ryoma was more irritating.
======
It was simple enough, with Atobe's resources, to figure out the sequence of events: Tezuka's phone went missing shortly after the National Tournament. Fuji spent an inordinate amount of time by himself at around the same time. Then, at some point, Ryoma started spending more time around Fuji. Atobe's eyes and ears at Seigaku confirmed this easily--they weren't making any secret of it--and passed the information along.
The entire affair was Fuji's idea. Atobe was convinced of this. Rather than be cajoled into some sort of rematch (which seemed to be the intention, for reasons even Atobe could not fathom), he ignored the entire affair. The date written on the tennis ball came, and Atobe spent it at a café with his teammates.
"But Ayumi isn't good enough for you, is she?" Oshitari's drawl was distinctive, and always lulled his captain into spilling more secrets than he would have otherwise.
"Ayumi? From 3B? The one who wants to be a model?" Jirou chimed in, because this was a conversation that interested him.
"She's ugly, though," Gakuto added, sipping at his strawberry shake. "That's why, right?"
"Atobe, Atobe, we expected so much more from--" Oshitari trailed off. Something at the door had caught his attention.
"She's a bore," Atobe responded, not even waiting for the tensai to finish his thought. "I wouldn't date her if she were the last girl in the school."
Jirou and Gakuto, who sat opposite their captain, suddenly looked up, over him. The redhead's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?" Before Atobe could turn around to see who they were talking to, a pair of hands flattened his hair's short, messy spikes.
"Are you a chicken, or a monkey?" And now Atobe didn't even have to look. He knew that voice, and it made his blood boil. Determined not to be baited, he kept his tone even. "You're following me again."
"It's not that hard to do when you make a show out of everything." Atobe set his jaw at that response.
"Leave us alone!" Gakuto rose from his seat, ready for a fight. Jirou grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back down.
"I'll handle this," Atobe said sternly, eyeing his teammates. "It's just a nuisance." He rose from his seat slowly, shrugging off the boy's hands and turning to grab Ryoma's arm. As gracefully as possible, he bodily dragged Ryoma out of the café, not stopping until they had rounded a corner and were in a more private, secluded area.
"You've made your point." He released Ryoma's arm rather more forcefully than was absolutely necessary. The younger boy didn't seem fazed by it.
"Not really," Ryoma replied, eyes flashing as a smirk spread across his face.
Atobe crossed his arms over his chest. "Then what is your point? I'm not going to play you again, and I refuse to get into some sort of altercation." He stared down at Ryoma, realizing for the first time just how big of a height difference there was between the two of them. There was absolutely no need to feel remotely challenged by such a little brat.
Just as Atobe was getting smug in his superiority, a small hand wrapped around his tie and pulled him down. Lips were suddenly pressed to his, and for the briefest of shocked moments, he stood still, one hand thrust out toward the wall for balance.
"Now I've made my point."
===========
OMAKE
"Stop moving around so much, Oshitari."
"It's hard to stay in this--why are we doing this, again?"
"Because I said so," Atobe hissed. "You're the one who volunteered to help me."
"I didn't think we would be hiding behind a row of hedges," Oshitari responded, turning to wave at a passer-by.
"Stop playing to the crowd and help me hold the limbs back." Atobe raised the binoculars to his eyes again, and focused on his target. Echizen Ryoma. "He's miserable at doubles... What idiot decided they were going to challenge them?"
"I did."
Atobe and Oshitari turned slowly to face none other than Seigaku's captain, Tezuka.
"Ah."