log; Atobe & Tezuka

[mraz]

Date: May 10th, morning
Rating: G
Summary: Atobe and Tezuka meet at a local park and it turns into twenty questions over pancakes.

Though he had told Atobe to meet after nine, by a quarter to, Tezuka was already at the park they would be meeting at. It was a medium-sized local park, about the size of half an apartment block, and it had a swing set, a slide, a jungle gym, and a sandbox. The park was unoccupied, the silence broken only by Kinoko's bark as she raced after the tennis ball Atobe had given her.

Since it was almost nine, Tezuka didn't tell her to be quiet. She'd been cooped in the apartment for long hours on end, lately, and golden retrievers didn't enjoy being left alone. Perhaps, Tezuka thought, he should start taking advantage of his lunch breaks to come back and play with her. That would cut into the time he normally spent on training, though, and he was loathe to do so. There was no reason why Tezuka couldn't train at home when he wanted to work on fine motor control. More extreme training could be done at Ryuhana, where Tezuka went often to use the Danger Room; however, not all training was that strenuous, and there were a lot of exercises Tezuka could safely do at home.

He shelved the thought for another time. "Kinoko!" he called, and she came running, tail wagging eagerly. Tezuka couldn't help a chuckle even as she rushed into him and knocked him down. His jeans could stand sitting on the ground for a moment, he thought, ruffling her fur affectionately. "Good girl," he said. Maybe they could train together. She'd like that. In fact, he thought, it would be more interesting with Kinoko around. She would enjoy distracting him, and she was a less predictable distractor than the Danger Room's programs, especially now that Tezuka had spent so many years training with them. He stroked Kinoko's head again, and she licked his hand affectionately. "Good girl, Kinoko," he said, smiling, then standing up again. He patted his jeans to brush the dirt off, and then threw the tennis ball once more.

Unlike Tezuka, Atobe struggled with mornings. He had never been a morning person and had even been known to be quite grumpy before the first cup of coffee in the morning. Sanada had kept up his end of the bargain, though, and had at least allowed him a good forty-five minutes more sleep than what he had been doing when Atobe first moved in to the dorms. Still, he spent the first fifteen minutes or so of every morning hating every fiber of Sanada's being as he blearily got dressed so that they could go down to breakfast together. He then spent the following ten minutes blaming Sanada for the fact that nowhere in Japan could a man get a goddamn pancake for breakfast. By the time he sat down with his coffee and a slice of toast (stubbornly refusing to eat a Japanese breakfast), he was right as rain again and stopped blaming Sanada for all the injustice in the universe. For which he was sure Sanada was eternally grateful.

The remainder of the early morning was passed going for a run around campus, showering, and working out how to get to the station Tezuka had indicated to efficiently. Public transportation could be somewhat elusive to him simply because he lacked the years upon years of experience most Japanese people his age had under their belt. Once he had worked out the route, he grabbed his wallet and got out the door. By the time he arrived at the park, as promised he was exactly on time. He was not sure how long Tezuka had been there before him, but he was well engrossed in a game of fetch with Kinoko - probably with that tennis ball Atobe had supplied him with only a couple of days before. Perhaps "supplied" was a cold word for it. Gifted to him.

His best charming smile on his face, Atobe sauntered over to Tezuka with his hands lazily dropped in his pockets. Rather than announce his presence, he simply said, "I hope I didn't keep you too long."

Tezuka hadn't heard Atobe's approach, distracted by Kinoko, but he felt Atobe's presence beside him a moment before the other spoke, and he looked up to see Atobe casually standing there, hands in his pockets. "Not at all," Tezuka said, standing as he cast a surreptitious glance at his watch. Perfectly on time. "We arrived early. Kinoko!"

The golden retriever came running, tennis ball in her mouth, and Tezuka bent to ruffle her fur affectionately. His face softened, just a little. "Atobe-kun, meet Kinoko. Kinoko, this is Atobe Keigo. He gave you this tennis ball."

Kinoko barked, as if she understood, but then wagged her tail madly, bouncing from side to side. Tezuka extended the ball to Atobe. "Here," he said.

Atobe took his hands out of his pockets, accepting the ball with his right hand and turned his attention to the dog. "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Kinoko-san." As was to be expected of a retriever, her personality seemed to be rather... energetic and quite friendly; it was like observing the odd couple in action comparing her to Tezuka. Weren't dogs supposed to resemble their owners? Maybe it was the eyes that made it work - she shared his soft brown eyes. He tossed the ball once easily in the air to make sure he had her attention, then pitched it across the park sending Kinoko racing off in pursuit.

"I just noticed you're left handed," commented the younger mutant, tilting his head a bit to Tezuka. Looking back on it, he had probably stopped the ball with his left hand which would have been a dead give-away. "Or is it just for physical activities that you favor your left hand?"

'Aa," Tezuka said. To some extent he was able to use his right arm, too, but he definitely favored his left. His right was not as strong, and the control not as fine. It wasn't as if he could write well with it. "Well-observed." Atobe had thrown the ball with his right. "I mostly favor my left, though I can use the right somewhat. Tennis is the extent of my abilities with it." Social tennis that did not require skill to play just well enough to be respected but not so well one was avoided; Tezuka had learned that from his father.

He watched as Kinoko raced back to drop the ball at Atobe's feet. She gave a short yap, tail wagging. She liked him, then; it was probably obvious to Atobe, too, if familiarity with any breed of dog (and one as common as the golden retriever) was any indication. One could never underestimate how much Atobe knew, Tezuka suspected. For example, Slovenian.

"Please excuse my asking," he said. "Your username. Where is it from?" Tezuka had not recognized the word, but Google had turned up the answer. He waited for Atobe's response, though.

Atobe dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms behind Kinoko's neck to affectionately scratch near where her neck met her shoulders - she really was a beautiful dog, and so friendly. He stopped after a moment, grabbing the ball, and got back to his feet, once more pitching it across the yard for her to fetch. "Dedek Mraz," Atobe said as though it explained everything and as though he had no intention to continue. After a pause, he looked Tezuka in the eye. "The slavic name of Father Frost," Atobe continued. The story of Father Frost could be best compared to the concept of Santa Claus that his mother had insisted upon telling him as a child. He was a man who wore a long intricate robe who delivered gifts to children during New Year's celebrations. Not that Atobe was trying to make any direct relationship between himself and Father Christmas...

"I thought it was somewhat suiting. Don't you think?" If there was any intended irony in his words, it was not present in his voice.

Tezuka gathered that the name had much to do with cold. The dictionary he'd referred to had said as much. "As suited to you as most of ours are to us," he said, nodding. He had no room to talk, after all. He wondered why Atobe was bothering to spend time with him, actually; was it merely missing his dog, Beat? Atobe had sounded very fond of him. Kinoko returned, but this time stopped in front of Tezuka, panting happily.

"Good girl," Tezuka said, bending to rub her. He tossed the ball and watched her run after it, a little at a loss for what to say to lead the conversation next. "Please stop me if you find me intrusive, but ... how did you name Beat?"

Now that was a story that he could only tell second-hand. He had been very young at the time, though his mother had insisted upon letting him name his new pet. It was around the same time that his father had been insisting upon him learning to play the piano, so he had been learning many music related words in English and Latin as well as his native Japanese. When asked what to name the puppy, the first word out of his mouth had been, "Beat," and so they stuck with it. He did not remember doing this - it was before he even entered primary school. "He was named for the musical term. I was learning to play the piano at the time, so I got it in my head to name him after something that I had recently learned. Or so I'm told, in any case."

Which meant Atobe had been with Beat for many years. Tezuka wondered why Atobe didn't get a new dog--did he miss the old one too much? He pondered what he would do if he lost Kinoko, but that brought an involuntary frown to his face. As if she could tell when her master was thinking of her, Kinoko returned with the ball. She dropped it between the two of them, and then sat down on her rear, panting. Tezuka knew what she wanted, and he nodded at her. Turning towards Atobe, he said, "Be right back. Come, Kinoko."

The fountain was only twenty paces away. Tezuka turned on the tap, and watched Kinoko lap eagerly at the water pooling by her paws.

Atobe crossed his arms over his chest watching the pair wander over to the fountain. It was like he was a completely different person, today; not that Atobe had not seen a little flash of it when they met on Thursday, but when Tezuka had someone - or something - to look after, he really did change. With a shake of his head, Atobe looked out on the park, instead - at this hour on a Saturday, they more or less had the liberty of wandering around anywhere without running into other people. His thoughts briefly drifted to what his parents must have been doing just then. His mother would be having her customary late breakfast in her atrium - tea and probably something sweet like a danish or a turnover. His father would be stubbornly pursuing some business deal or another either on the phone, at the office on a Saturday, or shmoozing a potential client over a friendly game of tennis.

Once more his mind drifted back to the unsatisfied desire for pancakes from this morning. Two weeks of nothing but Japanese breakfasts and he was starting to go a little mad. He had already declared to Sanada that if he saw one more bowl of rice, he was going to just freeze the kitchens solid. They both knew that it was an exaggeration and Atobe being dramatic, but some small part of him was just spiteful enough to consider it. He also missed traditional Sunday dinner - roast beef and yorkshire pudding with whipped garlic potatoes... and hell, now he was just making himself hungry.

Returning from the water fountain, Tezuka could tell Kinoko was tiring; she wasn't as eager to go back to their game of fetch now. He turned towards Atobe. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Hm?" Atobe's mind had been drifting - it took him a moment to process what Tezuka had said. "Oh, yes and no - I had some toast before I went on my run, but I was just beginning to feel a bit peckish." A thin smile met his lips and he could not resist the urge to tease. "Why, Tezuka-san, are you asking me to breakfast?" Not that he would not have not extended the invitation on his own if Tezuka had not mentioned something; it was only polite, for one, and it would be silly to come out all this way only to not spend some time together.

Tezuka had been about to. It would be too obvious if he didn't extend the invitation now, and Atobe had been kind to Kinoko. Still, he mentally counted to five slowly before replying. "There are some restaurants near the station, including an English cafe. By now they will be open for business."

At the mention of the time, Atobe checked his watch out of habit - everything would be opening up, now. "You don't suppose they serve pancakes?" The question was spoken to his watch, though he looked back up at Tezuka a moment later. "I've been thinking about pancakes all morning." And the whole night before that, too. It was a perfect day with perfect weather and the only thing it was missing, frankly, were pancakes with butter and jam and perhaps some orange juice. He couldn't remember the last time he had orange juice, actually. He smiled disarmingly. "My treat?"

"They do, and that won't be necessary," Tezuka said. "We invited you here." He'd been meaning to offer to pay, and hadn't expected Atobe to say it first. And since when did students pay for working adults? He suspected that it would be difficult to object without causing a scene, though, from what he'd seen of Atobe's personality.

"Very well, but you'll have to at least let me leave the... damn, never mind." Of course... tipping was not expected nor would it be accepted, here. Well, then he would have to do something an Atobe rarely did and let the check go to someone else. "Thank you." All these thoughts were quickly pushed aside for the promise of pancakes that was actually surprisingly thoughtful of Tezuka. "It's nice of you to consider my preferences. That also was not necessary." And appreciated was what he meant to imply in the words.

Leave the what? Tezuka wondered, but he didn't ask. He called Kinoko over, and clipped the leash to her, and then turned to Atobe. "Ryuuhana doesn't serve English breakfasts, and good ones are difficult to find outside of certain districts." He had been, at least, pleased he could offer Atobe that much in return for his consideration of Kinoko. Knowledge of a good restaurant or cafe was useful in this city. "Do you remember the way back?"

"If I get too hopelessly lost I'm sure someone would eventually come rescue me. They'd miss me terribly if I wandered off." He spoke only jokingly; for as much as he was known for his ego, he was never serious when he said something quite so self-important. He also doubted seriously that he would get lost. He might not have the best natural sense of direction, but it was at least good enough to find his way home without fail. He dropped his hands into his pockets and said, "Lead the way - I want to commit the route to memory. Who knows when the desire for pancakes will strike next?"

"It's within sight of the station," Tezuka said, giving Atobe a look. That had to be an attempt at humor, and it was probably funny, but Tezuka wasn't yet exactly inclined to think anyone would miss Atobe that much. At least Atobe didn't seem to take his own words seriously. Tezuka gently nudged Kinoko. "Come," he said, both to Kinoko and to Atobe.

It only took a few minutes to walk from the park to the cafe. Tezuka had been in it once before, when his mother had come to visit him. It looked the same, flowers blooming cheerfully in the planters outside. The door was propped open with a brick. From within, the smell of something sweet wafted out, and Tezuka tried to recall what it was. That smelled like ... maple. That, or brown sugar. He wasn't exactly the best when it came to his sense of taste.

To announce that they'd arrived would be redundant, so Tezuka said, "Go in and find a table. I'll make sure Kinoko is well-secured." He didn't want to take up space in the cafe with a somewhat sweaty dog, and Kinoko had long learned to wait outside. Many restaurants and shops were not dog-friendly--it was rare to find one that was. Not looking to see if Atobe had entered, Tezuka knelt, tying Kinoko's leash to the railing. He scratched her head gently, and she made a soft whine, knowing she was going to be left outside again.

Tezuka checked the small bag he carried, pulling out a small chewtoy. This one didn't bounce or roll, and so Kinoko wouldn't be tempted to run out into the street. "Be a good girl and stay," he said firmly, giving her the toy and scratching her head before ruffling her fur a little. Breakfast with Atobe probably wouldn't take that long.

Atobe found a seat near the window, sparing one glance out the window to watch Tezuka getting Kinoko settled. A server came by moments later with two menus and Atobe requested two glasses of water before she got away - yet another thing that had taken some getting used to; asking for water. Inevitably it would come with ice, as well, though that thought did not occur to him until she was already gone. Oh well. He opened the menu and looked over it - it wasn't quite what one would actually find in a British cafe, but it was much closer than he had seen since he had returned to Japan. At the very least they had pancakes... though the latkes were also horribly tempting. Not as good with jam, though.

He glanced up when Tezuka joined him. "So, what's good, here? I assume you've come in here, before."

"Only once," Tezuka said, sitting down. "My mother seemed to enjoy her pancakes, and you mentioned a craving for them." He had simply had waffles, because the cream and syrup had looked very enticing in the pictures, and because he didn't own a waffle iron and couldn't make them himself. Not that he wanted to; waffles weren't something he meant to eat often.

Tapping his fingers to his lips thoughtfully, Atobe explained, "It's just that I've reached indecision... pancakes were the whole purpose of coming here, but now that we're here and I know that they have latkes, I can't seem to make up my mind." The trouble with latkes was that they were so rarely served in restaurants that he was always inclined to go that route... but it was not as though he could never come back to this place ever again. "I think I should stick with my original inclination so as to avoid regretting it, later." They also had homestyle potatoes on the menu which might curb the craving for the potato pancakes. "What are you going to get?"

"If you wish, order both," Tezuka said. He hoped Atobe was not limiting himself because Tezuka had offered to pay. "Please don't restrain yourself on my account." Tezuka hadn't decided what to order, either, but if all else failed and he hadn't made a decision by the time Atobe was done, he would order waffles again.

Atobe just chuckled, shaking his head. "Or we could order both between the two of us and split it. I promise I don't have cooties." Once more he was, of course, joking - it showed in the tone of his voice - but he knew that it would offend someone like Tezuka who was most likely a sticker for the Japanese concept of personal space. He would probably have a heart attack if Atobe ever, for whatever reason, were to feel compelled to hug him. Of course, their server chose that inopportune moment to come to the table and ask for their order. Atobe ordered orange juice and pancakes with the same logic as he'd quoted Tezuka, as well as some strawberry jam and homefries.

Tezuka chose to ignore the comment about cooties. It was getting easier with repeated exposure. "Latkes," he said to the waitress. He thought a moment, and then added, "And hot coffee."

"Thank you for your order," she said, repeating it. They confirmed it was correct, and she was off to the kitchen. Tezuka took a quick look outside to reassure himself that Kinoko was fine (she was), and turned back to Atobe. Now that they were sitting across a table from each other with nothing to do and no Kinoko to distract himself with, Tezuka found himself casting about for a conversation subject again. Some things didn't change, he mused inwardly, and picked up a glass of water to sip at it to hide his awkwardness.

At that, Atobe could not help but smile. Tezuka was just full of surprises, today. He did not speak, at first, letting the silence stretch comfortably and wondering if he could expect the older man to generate a topic as well as another surprise for the day. When it became evident that it was a lost cause, he offered, "So you haven't told me much about yourself. What are your hobbies? What's the greatest movie of all time? What's your favorite ice cream flavor?" All relatively safe, easy topics, really. Might as well start with a nice slow pitch.

Instead of responding, Tezuka merely gave Atobe a look to express what he thought of those topics. Why did people find that sort of thing interesting? Tezuka didn't have any favorite flavors or movies--he appreciated the classics, but to pick one over another was akin to choosing between his father and his mother. It wasn't as if there weren't any good movies being made nowadays, either, whether in Japan or outside it.

But he could do something with hobbies. "I occasionally hike," he said. He didn't share the others. Tezuka felt very protective of his woodworking, and somehow he didn't wish to inform others of everything he enjoyed. The last thing he wanted was for Atobe to invite himself on a fishing trip. Some things were a matter of private enjoyment, and Tezuka cherished the time he spent alone with a fishing rod, Kinoko lounging lazily beside him once she'd tired herself out with running. "Yourself?"

That had to be the worst answer to a simple question in the history of bad answers. Atobe just stared at Tezuka for a moment, saying nothing. He found this all very amusing, of course, but he wondered just what it took to find out anything about the other man without fishing for clues by reading between lines and seeing past what was directly presented to him. Regardless... "I have many hobbies; I was captain of the fencing club at school and I enjoy fly-fishing on the weekends. Hm... I like to read, mostly philosophy and epic poetry, though I dabble in Shakespeare's utter nonsense at times. I speak Greek and studying that has been more or less a private endeavor, you'd be amazed how difficult it is to find a Greek class beyond the basics. I also quite enjoy Greek food, but that's neither here nor there." There, that was properly sharing about one's self. Atobe gave Tezuka a pointed look. "Travel as well - and natural beauty. Just to name a few interests."

"Fishing?" Tezuka asked, surprised. Atobe didn't seem like the type of person to enjoy fishing. The other hobbies were in line with what one expected from a son of the upper classes, from fencing to philosophy and epic poetry. Of course, Atobe could afford to travel often, and spend time appreciating beauty. But ... fishing? If he asked, Atobe would certainly be entitled to demand more information from him, but Tezuka's curiosity had been piqued. "Where do you fish?"

One of Atobe's eyebrows crept up a notch at the curiosity. Could it be that they had something in common? He would let it play out on its own - perhaps Tezuka would actually offer up the information without too much prodding. "My father owns a cabin on a private lake. It also has tennis courts and is a great place to go hiking in the summer. When I've been back during the summer, I've spent many a weekend up there; usually alone or just with my mother and the horses. I don't honestly prefer trail riding, but my mother prefers it to hiking so I've had little say in the matter." But this was all an extreme tangent from the first point of fishing which was what had caught Atobe's attention. "I learned to fish from one of our clients when I was very young - he's a friendly old man who has always gone by the nickname of 'Santa,' though my father highly discouraged using the nickname."

Tezuka listened attentively, interested now. He raised one eyebrow at Atobe's fishing teacher's nickname, though it would be impolite to suggest that the man looked like the stereotypical Santa. Still ... a private lake? Hiking trails? Horses? Atobe's life sounded so far removed from his own. After Atobe had finished, he spoke. "My father taught me to fish. I prefer riverside, myself, but it's been difficult to find time."

"Ah, yes, time. A busy schedule." Though Atobe made the joke, he was frowning just slightly. The exact reason why it had not been his father to teach him to fish was that - time. His father not only deemed it a waste of time, but also that he did not have the time to sit around with his only son and impart upon him the knowledge that he had regarding the sport. Despite this, he had personally been the one to give Atobe piano lessons when he was very young and to check up to make sure that his son continued to attend said lessons dilligently once he had moved out of the country. But to Atobe Keiichi, that was what was important. Had it not be for his social status and his role as heir to the family, Keiichi would have likely gone on to play the piano professionally. Just as how Atobe himself could have gone in so many directions in his life with his many talents and his ability to learn quickly.

He dispelled the thought, also forcing the frown away from his face. "But this is exactly what I was trying to tell you the other day about making time for leisure. Kinoko probably worries about you working so hard."

"She's a dog, Atobe-kun." At the mention of Kinoko, Tezuka looked out the window to check on her again before returning his gaze to Atobe. He doubted Kinoko worried, though he did feel guilty that he worked as much as he did. Golden retrievers were very demanding of attention, but Kinoko had been wonderfully well-behaved even when Tezuka worked through Golden Week. "I still make time for leisure. Hiking benefits both of us more, being exercise. Fishing is too sedentary." He could train his stamina hiking, and even when Kinoko tired, she was willing to wait, tied to a tree, while Tezuka continued to push himself onwards. Fishing was merely Tezuka sitting down with a novel (or, on rare occasion, reports--he'd soon abandoned that, the reports negating whatever relaxing effect the fishing had).

In the meantime, Tezuka had noticed the earlier frown, and the effort Atobe had used to dispel it. "Is something wrong?"

Any retort Atobe had to the remark about exercise died on his lips with the question. Nothing was wrong, other than the fact that his stomach still turned from hunger, but Tezuka had likely noticed the frown no matter how brief. He would rather not launch into a discussion of the socio-political hierarchy that existed just within the Atobe family itself without any sort of need for outside pressure factors. It was the sort of information that he did not indulge to others - he would not even speak to his own mother about it even knowing she would be completely supportive. Thankfully, he was saved from answering just then by the return of their server with the food and drinks. Everything looked fantastic and to his hunger-muddled brain took first seat to a problem he'd learned to deal with over the course of seventeen years of life.

Politely the server asked them if they had everything they needed before once more leaving them to their meal. Atobe immediately began buttering the pancakes, watching what he was doing rather than looking up at Tezuka. "Do you believe me to be a snobbish person?" The question held no real weight - he himself was not concerned with Tezuka's opinion - but it would lead into what he was willing to divulge.

The momentary distraction of food seemed to occupy Atobe's attention, but it seemed to Tezuka as if there was some tension now in the air between them. He considered the question, watching Atobe butter his pancakes. It wasn't a matter of snobbery where Atobe was concerned. Snobbery would have kept Atobe from reaching out to Tezuka, and it would have kept him from remembering Kinoko and bringing her a tennis ball. Snobbery wouldn't have allowed Atobe to be the first one to apologize and ask to start over on a possible bad first impression.

"No," Tezuka said. "Though you may, perhaps, wish others to think so." He cut his latke in half, pushing one of the pieces to the side for Atobe. "Do you?"

Atobe paused in what he was doing, realizing Tezuka really did intend to share the food and left one of the pancakes unbuttered to pass over to Tezuka. He instead dipped into the jam to spread across the pancakes that were now buttered. "Think myself to be snobbish? Not terribly, though I have been known to go to great lengths to get my way. That itself may not be snobbery, but it's certainly stubborness and a certain level of entitlement." To him, snobbishness was turning away food just because it was slightly overcooked even if it was still delicious or refusing to walk out in the rain without an umbrella not for frear of getting wet but for fear of messing up one's hair. Snobbishness was also refusing to spend time with anyone of a lower class unless they were serving him, which was something that he would never do.

"I guess you could say I've lived a life much like that of Prince Hal," he explained, not really knowing whether or not Tezuka would catch the reference - not that it would matter if he did not. "I have gone against my father's wishes all this time while being groomed to be the ideal heir. He is awaiting the day that I will 'become the sun,' by sweeping aside all these supposedly unfavorable qualities of mine." He put down the butter knife and took up his glass of orange juice, raising it to Tezuka as though in toast. "I was just thinking that it would have been nice to go fishing with my father. It is not exactly the sort of activity I've been encourage to pursue. It in no way lends to being the perfect heir he has been molding from the moment of my birth." Taking a drink of the orange juice, he paused and considered his next words. "We spoke before about not fitting in. My hair and eyes caused my father grief when my eyes did not change from blue as a baby and my hair came in blonde. It is an interesting place to be - both the prize of the family and the black sheep."

Tezuka did indeed recognize the reference to Shakespeare. It seemed appropriate from one point of view, he supposed; he suspected his memory of Henry IV was not entirely accurate. Atobe was a curious creature to him, both precocious and yet ... somehow alone and vulnerable. He wondered how it was that people could carry so many contradictions within themselves and yet still function, though he suspected he might not exactly be in a position to judge in that respect.

How strange, that someone so self-confident could still seem so unsure. "You are the heir to the Atobe empire," Tezuka said, cutting off one piece of his latke and chewing on it. He swallowed. "Ultimately, what you think is all that should matter. How can a leader lead when he doesn't know his goal?" Of that, Tezuka was sure. "You have the talent and charisma." Don't waste it.

Atobe studied Tezuka quietly, not saying anything at first. Very assertive, very unlike any of his other responses until now. There was no need to tell him things he already knew, but he must have seemed quite prone from that explanation. In some ways he was - his only true friend was his roomate and the two of them hardly got along most of the time. Everyone else had eventually be distanced from him either by force or choice and thus was just his lot in life. But then again, had he not been doing the same to Tezuka? Reading beyond everything he said for what the real meaning was to his words? He could hardly complain when the table was turned against him.

He was indeed born to lead - it had nothing to do with blood or grooming or even his mutant powers that were well under control no matter what he had led anyone else to believe. It was something beyond that and he recognized it in himself just as he recognized in Tezuka that somewhere under the surface was some sort of fire begging to be released. "I haven't lost sight of that, Tezuka-san," he said with just a hint of humor in his voice. "I appreciate your concern."

That was when he decided it was time to take a page from Tezuka's book. Motioning to his plate with his fork, he asked, "Could I interest you in a pancake? Someone told me this was the place to go in the area for a pancake." This time, the irony was very much present in his tone.

The shift from one mood to another was obvious. Atobe would make a poor comedian; perhaps it was better he already had a future ahead of him that did not require excellent humor. It took a moment for Tezuka to recognize the humor for what it was--a teenager's defense mechanism, sliding back into place.

Though as long as the defense mechanism was there, Tezuka supposed there was something left to defend. "Perhaps," he answered, and motioned to the half-latke he'd left untouched. "I seem to have too much of my own."

"A trade would only be fair," admitted Atobe. They exchanged the half of the latke for the pancake Atobe had yet to touch and it immediately led to Atobe launching into an explanation as to why Tezuka should give the combination of butter and strawberry jam a chance. After all, there was no use dwelling on family or duty on a Saturday morning. It was not often, lately, that Atobe had been able to just enjoy breakfast out with someone for what it was - breakfast, out, with another person. Besides, he had still yet to figure out Tezuka's favorite ice cream flavor - even if the man professed otherwise, he was wrong. Everyone had a favorite, they might just not know it, yet. That would be his next mission, whether he could accomplish it over breakfast was yet to be seen, but he suspected holding that knowledge meant holding the key to all the other little secrets tucked in behind a stoic expression and soft brown eyes.