(no subject)
Title: Falling Short
Fandom: Prince of Tennis.
Featuring: Atobe and Echizen.
Genre: Humour.
Words: ~ 1400.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: Light language; nothing, really.
Notes: Written for hikaridonya, even though her writing skills (and her AtoRyo, especially) pwn mine. *Chu~.*
Atobe stared at the double doors in front of him. They were plain glass, with no attractive staining or glazing, and definitely not framed by ornate full-length windows. Slowly, he let his gaze travel to the slip of paper in his hand. There were little more than ten things on the list; he wouldn't have to be here for very long.
Drawing a breath and letting it out with a sigh, he flicked a few unruly strands of hair aside, composed himself, and made a grand entrance into the grocery store.
A little girl clinging to the side of a shopping cart stared at him as her mother wheeled her past.
The rest of the supermarket continued about their business.
Reminding himself that, really, it was all for the better, because he needed to take care of things here quickly, which meant no autographs, Atobe proceeded further into the store. He looked around, then glanced back down at the list he held. A cart would probably be in order, he thought, so he fetched one.
Shopping carts, he realized as he wheeled one down the first aisle of the store, had a unique way of making even the most dignified and elegant of gentleman feel oddly commonplace and ridiculous. Any minute now, Shishido or Mukahi was going to come leaping off one of these shelves, laughing at him, and it would be entirely merited, since he was standing there with a shopping cart, imagining his teammates hiding on shelves in a supermarket.
He shook his head to clear it and reexamined the list. Potatoes. Right. They didn't seem to be in this aisle. There were signs above each aisle, though, and one of them, he was sure, must say 'potatoes' somewhere on it.
Sure enough, several aisles down, there appeared to be potatoes. Atobe steered the cart carefully around a pair of bickering children and their father, careful to let them know that he was better than they were by the way he arched his eyebrows, and paused in front of a large stand of potato sacks.
The list didn't specify how many potatoes, exactly (they couldn't have made this easy for him, or it wouldn't be proper punishment, would it?), but Atobe was smart enough to handle that much. On a regular basis, the kitchen staff cooked only for the family and the head staff, which came to less than ten people. The head cook went to the supermarket weekly.
Atobe tucked the list into his pocket and bent at the knees to pick up one of the sacks. There was nothing difficult about this, really; once you got past the awkward feeling of pushing around a shopping cart, it was simple. He hefted a few sacks of potatoes into the cart, then pulled out the list again.
French bread. He'd seen the bakery sign on his way in. It was on the opposite side of the store.
Halfway there, he was stopped by what he would swear for years to come was the most entertaining sight he'd ever had the privilege of seeing.
Seigaku's up-and-coming first-year was standing near the end of an aisle, glancing furtively back and forth in between upward stretches on his tiptoes as he tried to reach the very top of the shelves.
Atobe lifted the list to his face, obscuring the smile that was teasing the corners of his mouth. Subsequently, he stepped behind a display stand to avoid being seen. It wouldn't do to ruin his own fun, after all.
With another scan of the store around him, as if to be sure no one was watching, Echizen grabbed onto the highest shelf he could reach and braced a foot on the second lowest. Atobe nearly laughed. He was going to climb the shelves?
It certainly seemed that way. Echizen had the other foot on the third lowest shelf now, and was clinging with one hand as he batted at a stack of cat food cans. It was just barely out of reach of his fingers, Atobe noted, but if he scaled one more shelf, he'd have it.
And they couldn't have that, now could they?
Coming from behind the display, Atobe made a show of sauntering into the aisle and reaching nonchalantly past the determined first-year to pluck the top can off the stack. He studied it thoughtfully, and Echizen lost his grip.
"Ah -!" Grabbing wildly at the air, Echizen managed to procure a ten-pound bag of dry dog food to bring down on top of him when he hit the tile on his back. His breath escaped him in an ironic sort of bark, and Atobe struggled with a smile.
Echizen sat up, dragging in a mighty lungful of air, and glared upward, squinting slightly in the flourescent light. "... Atobe?"
After allowing for an airy pause, Atobe looked down at him. "Ah, Echizen."
"Don't act like you didn't see me. And give me that." Echizen lunged forward and up, unseating the bag of dog food from his lap as he did so. He never came close to touching the cat food that Atobe held, though; the third-year deftly tossed it to his other hand, leaving an empty one to grasp Echizen's own and help him up.
For a few seconds, Atobe actually thought Echizen was going to jerk his hand away and just fall down again, but he proved to be a bit smarter than that. He used Atobe's weight against his own to stand, instead, and then pulled away from his grip.
"Give me the cat food, Atobe."
"I will be purchasing this, actually," Atobe demurred, beginning to walk back to his cart. Echizen followed. Atobe found this funny, because there was half a shelf of that exact kind of cat food, and Echizen had decided to pursue the one Atobe had.
"You don't even own a cat." Echizen sounded about as exasperated as Atobe had ever heard him.
Turning, Atobe smiled. "What makes you say that?"
Echizen's brow arched, making for an imperious zen-look that Atobe was sure was meant to make him feel stupid. It didn't. "You probably couldn't take having anything around that needed as much attention as you did."
"I'm surprised you own one, yourself."
"It was a birthday gift."
Atobe's pleasant smile morphed into a smirk, but his tone remained as idle and innocent as he could make it. "Echizen, why don't you just go back and get another can? I thought there were more."
"No, there aren't."
Both of Atobe's eyebrows shot up. "Are you sure?" he asked, starting toward the aisle again. There, he pointed at the remaining cans of cat food on the same shelf. "See?"
Echizen's hand darted out for the can in Atobe's hand again, but he wasn't quick enough. It passed behind the older boy's back and into his other hand.
"How rude of you."
"Shut up and give me the can of cat food already." He sounded even more annoyed now, though his hat was hiding his expression.
Atobe feigned ignorance. It was something he did well, but as little as possible. "I just don't understand why you're going through this much trouble when you could just get your own!"
"... Che'." Echizen walked off down the aisle, shoving his hands in his pockets. He muttered something in English that sounded alarmingly like 'screw you,' which Atobe unfortunately understood quite clearly.
"Will your cat be going hungry, then?" he asked of the other boy's back.
When Echizen turned toward him to retort, he was very nearly hit in the chest with a can of cat food. A moment of silence passed, in which Echizen stared down at the can that he almost hadn't caught and Atobe looked smug. Then the younger boy lifted his head. "I need about four."
"Is that so? You'll have to climb the shelves for those ones." Atobe's infernal smirk widened and his eyes lit cruelly. "Mada mada, Echizen."
Echizen glared after Atobe, waiting until he was out of sight before looking up at the top shelf. Much to his surprise, the cat food cans were missing.
The bastard took them, he thought heatedly, backing away from the shelf to be sure Atobe hadn't just pushed them back further. He hadn't. It was quite the opposite, in fact.
Three cans of Friskies Mariner's Catch were sitting two shelves down from the top, stacked neatly.
That asshole.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis.
Featuring: Atobe and Echizen.
Genre: Humour.
Words: ~ 1400.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: Light language; nothing, really.
Notes: Written for hikaridonya, even though her writing skills (and her AtoRyo, especially) pwn mine. *Chu~.*
Atobe stared at the double doors in front of him. They were plain glass, with no attractive staining or glazing, and definitely not framed by ornate full-length windows. Slowly, he let his gaze travel to the slip of paper in his hand. There were little more than ten things on the list; he wouldn't have to be here for very long.
Drawing a breath and letting it out with a sigh, he flicked a few unruly strands of hair aside, composed himself, and made a grand entrance into the grocery store.
A little girl clinging to the side of a shopping cart stared at him as her mother wheeled her past.
The rest of the supermarket continued about their business.
Reminding himself that, really, it was all for the better, because he needed to take care of things here quickly, which meant no autographs, Atobe proceeded further into the store. He looked around, then glanced back down at the list he held. A cart would probably be in order, he thought, so he fetched one.
Shopping carts, he realized as he wheeled one down the first aisle of the store, had a unique way of making even the most dignified and elegant of gentleman feel oddly commonplace and ridiculous. Any minute now, Shishido or Mukahi was going to come leaping off one of these shelves, laughing at him, and it would be entirely merited, since he was standing there with a shopping cart, imagining his teammates hiding on shelves in a supermarket.
He shook his head to clear it and reexamined the list. Potatoes. Right. They didn't seem to be in this aisle. There were signs above each aisle, though, and one of them, he was sure, must say 'potatoes' somewhere on it.
Sure enough, several aisles down, there appeared to be potatoes. Atobe steered the cart carefully around a pair of bickering children and their father, careful to let them know that he was better than they were by the way he arched his eyebrows, and paused in front of a large stand of potato sacks.
The list didn't specify how many potatoes, exactly (they couldn't have made this easy for him, or it wouldn't be proper punishment, would it?), but Atobe was smart enough to handle that much. On a regular basis, the kitchen staff cooked only for the family and the head staff, which came to less than ten people. The head cook went to the supermarket weekly.
Atobe tucked the list into his pocket and bent at the knees to pick up one of the sacks. There was nothing difficult about this, really; once you got past the awkward feeling of pushing around a shopping cart, it was simple. He hefted a few sacks of potatoes into the cart, then pulled out the list again.
French bread. He'd seen the bakery sign on his way in. It was on the opposite side of the store.
Halfway there, he was stopped by what he would swear for years to come was the most entertaining sight he'd ever had the privilege of seeing.
Seigaku's up-and-coming first-year was standing near the end of an aisle, glancing furtively back and forth in between upward stretches on his tiptoes as he tried to reach the very top of the shelves.
Atobe lifted the list to his face, obscuring the smile that was teasing the corners of his mouth. Subsequently, he stepped behind a display stand to avoid being seen. It wouldn't do to ruin his own fun, after all.
With another scan of the store around him, as if to be sure no one was watching, Echizen grabbed onto the highest shelf he could reach and braced a foot on the second lowest. Atobe nearly laughed. He was going to climb the shelves?
It certainly seemed that way. Echizen had the other foot on the third lowest shelf now, and was clinging with one hand as he batted at a stack of cat food cans. It was just barely out of reach of his fingers, Atobe noted, but if he scaled one more shelf, he'd have it.
And they couldn't have that, now could they?
Coming from behind the display, Atobe made a show of sauntering into the aisle and reaching nonchalantly past the determined first-year to pluck the top can off the stack. He studied it thoughtfully, and Echizen lost his grip.
"Ah -!" Grabbing wildly at the air, Echizen managed to procure a ten-pound bag of dry dog food to bring down on top of him when he hit the tile on his back. His breath escaped him in an ironic sort of bark, and Atobe struggled with a smile.
Echizen sat up, dragging in a mighty lungful of air, and glared upward, squinting slightly in the flourescent light. "... Atobe?"
After allowing for an airy pause, Atobe looked down at him. "Ah, Echizen."
"Don't act like you didn't see me. And give me that." Echizen lunged forward and up, unseating the bag of dog food from his lap as he did so. He never came close to touching the cat food that Atobe held, though; the third-year deftly tossed it to his other hand, leaving an empty one to grasp Echizen's own and help him up.
For a few seconds, Atobe actually thought Echizen was going to jerk his hand away and just fall down again, but he proved to be a bit smarter than that. He used Atobe's weight against his own to stand, instead, and then pulled away from his grip.
"Give me the cat food, Atobe."
"I will be purchasing this, actually," Atobe demurred, beginning to walk back to his cart. Echizen followed. Atobe found this funny, because there was half a shelf of that exact kind of cat food, and Echizen had decided to pursue the one Atobe had.
"You don't even own a cat." Echizen sounded about as exasperated as Atobe had ever heard him.
Turning, Atobe smiled. "What makes you say that?"
Echizen's brow arched, making for an imperious zen-look that Atobe was sure was meant to make him feel stupid. It didn't. "You probably couldn't take having anything around that needed as much attention as you did."
"I'm surprised you own one, yourself."
"It was a birthday gift."
Atobe's pleasant smile morphed into a smirk, but his tone remained as idle and innocent as he could make it. "Echizen, why don't you just go back and get another can? I thought there were more."
"No, there aren't."
Both of Atobe's eyebrows shot up. "Are you sure?" he asked, starting toward the aisle again. There, he pointed at the remaining cans of cat food on the same shelf. "See?"
Echizen's hand darted out for the can in Atobe's hand again, but he wasn't quick enough. It passed behind the older boy's back and into his other hand.
"How rude of you."
"Shut up and give me the can of cat food already." He sounded even more annoyed now, though his hat was hiding his expression.
Atobe feigned ignorance. It was something he did well, but as little as possible. "I just don't understand why you're going through this much trouble when you could just get your own!"
"... Che'." Echizen walked off down the aisle, shoving his hands in his pockets. He muttered something in English that sounded alarmingly like 'screw you,' which Atobe unfortunately understood quite clearly.
"Will your cat be going hungry, then?" he asked of the other boy's back.
When Echizen turned toward him to retort, he was very nearly hit in the chest with a can of cat food. A moment of silence passed, in which Echizen stared down at the can that he almost hadn't caught and Atobe looked smug. Then the younger boy lifted his head. "I need about four."
"Is that so? You'll have to climb the shelves for those ones." Atobe's infernal smirk widened and his eyes lit cruelly. "Mada mada, Echizen."
Echizen glared after Atobe, waiting until he was out of sight before looking up at the top shelf. Much to his surprise, the cat food cans were missing.
The bastard took them, he thought heatedly, backing away from the shelf to be sure Atobe hadn't just pushed them back further. He hadn't. It was quite the opposite, in fact.
Three cans of Friskies Mariner's Catch were sitting two shelves down from the top, stacked neatly.
That asshole.