Disclaimer: No, I don't own Prince of Tennis.

A/N: I know what you're thinking. Ah! Another crack pair! No, not really. But I do need to apologize to my usual readers. It was Oishi's birthday... but I was not finish with his short shot. I apologize (again).

But please, enjoy?

WARNING: Fairytale elements? Yeah, definitely.

Spring Fever

It was one of those days.

It was one of those days where the atmosphere surrounding him was strangely thick.

Thicker than usual.

And its thickness conquered and overpowered the individual air of unfaltering pride he maintained.

He felt odd, out of place.

Without the air of pride.

Without the air of confidence.

Without the air of elegance.

Then he realized, the most rational explanation for anyone with or without logic--it was one of those days.

For him, it was one of those “Ore-Sama’s” bad days.

And he, Atobe Keigo, king of Hyoutei (publicly proclaimed, of course), without his pride, without his confidence, without his elegance, became but another one of those average, melodramatic boys his age suffering from the attack of puberty--sudden lovesickness.

He had the strangest urge to cuddle.

Ugh, no.

No. No. No.

He was losing himself.

If anything remained of his usual self, it was his pickiness.

He wanted to cuddle.

But not just with anything or anyone, of course. He was the best, and therefore, he deserved the best. Especially the best cuddling item.

He wanted to cuddle.

But he wanted to cuddle with someone, not something.

Not with any of his fan girls.

Not with any of his fan boys.

Ugh, no.

The mere thought haunted him more than a bad hair day.

He wanted to cuddle.

He wanted to cuddle with someone familiar, not just with a random stranger.

He wanted to cuddle with someone familiar who was bigger than he, not just with a random stranger who he could easily wrap his arms around.

He wanted to cuddle with someone familiar who was bigger than he so he could feel safe, secured, comfortable, not just with a random stranger who he could easily wrap his arms around and protect, secure, comfort.

He wanted to be loved, adored.

He wanted to make sure he was loved, adored.

He wanted to restore that aura of pride, confidence, and elegance.

Love and adoration could do that.

And he knew the perfect someone.

“Kabaji!”

“Usu.” Came the usual reply, ready to attend to his command.

“Hug Ore-sama!”

“Usu.”

The other does.

Large, muscular built arms encircled themselves around his slender figure. A teddy bear hug--it was soft and cozy.

Atobe felt a bit better.

But it was still not enough.

“Kabaji.” He purred, eyes thinning to mere crescents slits.

“Usu.”

“Hug Ore-sama tighter.”

“Usu.”

He does. This time a full bear hug--powerful, passionate, yet tender.

And Atobe felt safe, secured, and comfortable.

He felt loved (like Ore-sama should be).

Authoress's Crap:

I have recently fallen in love with this pairing. Because my definition of love is companionship (even though Kabaji may not fit Atobe's insanely high standards). And because, I have also read three "drop-dead-gorgeous" short shots of this pair. They may measure up to TezuOishi's tragedy...

Anyways, thank you for dropping by. I am sorry if I scarred you for life.