Summary: Atobe didn't like boys. Especially not brats like Echizen. So why did the Narcissist blush – BLUSH! – around the Prince?
Disclaimer: Oh c'mon everyone knows that if they owned PoT they wouldn't be here. Oh well, fine - I don't own PoT. It belongs to Takeshi Konomi.
Oh and this is my first fanfic, please read and review! *bows*
Atobe sighed exasperatedly as he saw Akutagawa Jirou sleeping in the referee's chair again, mouth lolling open. Why should a great entity like him be put to minding buffoons like Jirou? Because the buffoon in question was a member in ore-sama's magnificent team, that's why.
Gakuto was snickering at Jirou from below, small umbrella raised to avoid the drool dripping down. Atobe snapped at Oshitari and Kabaji to wake that sleep-addicted idiot and then suddenly he called off practice way earlier than usual, storming off luxuriously toward his personal violet locker room to get a few purple towels and have a lavender-water shower.
He, the King Of All He Surveyed, was unusually distracted - distracted - today. And yesterday, and the day before that, Shishido and Gakuto discussed. Kabaji just said, 'Usu.' to whatever anyone told him, so they didn't think Kabaji would blab to Atobe about his teammates talking like this about him. Even if he did, Atobe didn't understand anything except praise about himself.
Atobe had been distracted ever since Hyotei had some practice matches with Seigaku a fortnight ago.
Atobe had been sitting haughtily on a bench, a purple cloth spread out over that sitting place, and he'd been examining his fingernails (swooning over them) when he heard a thwack and looked up to see which two peasants were actually playing in the court in front of his awesome presence.
Akutagawa versus Echizen. The two sleepers of Hyotei and Seigaku. And it was Echizen on the side of the court where the great Atobe had so arrogantly placed himself on his lilac cloth.
Blue eyes (Atobe regretted they weren't purple) followed everything as Echizen served, returned, and did any of his signature moves. Instead of Ryoma's moves, it was Ryoma's clothes which had attracted Atobe's admirable, if a bit curious, attention.
His T-shirt would ride up every few seconds. His overly short shorts would follow suit and the magnificent Atobe would be presented with such a great view of Ryoma's legs, skin and oh, much much more. Atobe glanced at Akutagawa, who was too deeply sunk in the game to notice all that. The sun had just gone behind the cloud and everyone had been treated to a few seconds of welcomed coolness. Every time Ryoma connected with the ball Atobe's eyes would be drawn to the skin exposed.
Atobe inwardly slapped himself. Then, still inwardly, he gasped, shocked. Had he really hit himself? He immediately started to console the sobbing Kei-chan in his mind. His attention once again was attracted to Ryoma.
Ore-sama does not like boys. Especially not brats like Echizen. Atobe tried to reassure himself shaking mentally. He tried to watch Jirou instead. He'd make a few comments on his playing later when they all returned to Hyotei.
But once Echizen's hand brushed that annoying white Fila cap of his and it fell to the floor, Echizen's ebony locks shaking loose, he stood up, head down because his face was burning red (red! not purple!), and practically fled the grounds without daring to look back at the multitude of tennis players looking at him, confused and puzzled as to why the Hyotei King just stalked out of the grounds. Atobe never did that. He always made sure people watched him come and go. So what was this? Jirou had been momentarily distracted too, so Ryoma managed to get a ball past him and won the match, going to get a drink of Ponta, pretending to be deaf to Jirou's rude yells for Sadaharu Inui to kill him with his Deluxe Something Muscle-Enhancing Whatever.
Atobe had gone to the water taps near the ground and had tried to drown his head in the cascading water.
Since then, Atobe had not been focused on anything except that brat.
After Atobe had his shower he stuck his head under the tap (it was a daily occurrence now), swearing under his peppermint breath. He let the cold water console his hot face, and he calmed down. He hadn't been able to think about anything except Ryoma. And he didn't even know when Echizen had turned Ryoma to him.
Atobe ran a hand through his hair. 'Ryoma...' He hissed. Kaidoh would have been jealous. Or proud. (He might have also given Atobe a green bandana and told him to run five miles every day in a blue-white T-shirt and white shorts. But then Atobe would have ordered Kabaji to kick Kaidoh in the butt.)
He left school and called his chauffeur to take him to that cafe he liked so much because they served that special kind of coffee only to him. He sat at a window table, alone, and sipped at the coffee occasionally. The waitresses were all trying to flirt with him, and he ignored them. Skanks.
Atobe resorted to people-watching - which was something completely below him - in order to pass time while his coffee cooled. He mourned that people weren't watching his presence, star-struck, except those waitresses – cough/sluts/cough – near the window.
A few minutes passed with no one noticing his praiseworthy bored gaze, but then Atobe's eyes showed conceited relief as he finally recognized someone he had seen just the other… fortnight. 'Ore-sama has a great memory…' The narcissist lauded himself.
There was that bouncy red-haired feline Seigaku regular... Kikumaru, Atobe recognized. Kikumaru was dashing toward a McDonalds parallel to the cafe he was in. Some purple eyed guy was following him. Momoshiro. And behind Momoshiro was the smiling tensai Fuji who noticed him and waved. And behind him someone was walking, a white cap pulled low over his eyes. He had on a Seigaku jacket, too. And then Fuji pulled the cap off and indicated Atobe.
Atobe slammed down the money for the coffee and leaving it untouched, he practically ran out of the door, hurrying toward his chauffeur who'd been trying to impress the female clerk at the grocery the limo was parked in front of. 'Drive me home. I'll give you the phone number of someone hotter than her if you do.' He said in a ragged voice.
As soon as the limo parked in front of the Atobe residence in five-point-two-seven minutes, the chauffeur was staring expectantly at his employer, Atobe, who, with great self-control, managed to walk to the front door and ignore the 'Welcome, Keigo-sama' that the maids squeaked, and then the maids scurried out of sight to resume their work. And the majestic Atobe bolted. The chauffeur rolled his eyes.
He stayed three hours inside the bathroom, fully clothed, cold water blasting from all sides on him. Did he have to see Ryoma surprisedly glancing at him? His golden eyes shredding Atobe's composure bit by bit (so Atobe dreamt)?
Kami-sama, help... he thought desperately. He must really be in hot water if he needed to ask for help. From emotions, of all things.
Fuji noticed a lot of things. Fuji noticed Eiji softly kissing Oishi when he thought no one was looking, Fuji noticed Kaidoh's disgusted look as he watched Inui drink his juice - cough/venom/cough - pleasantly like it was wine, Fuji even noticed Akutagawa stealing furtive and gleeful glances at him, and then waving wildly to him once Fuji looked him straight in the eye. Fuji made sure no one looked when he gently touched Tezuka's hand. But what Fuji noticed about Atobe was the one that bothered him the most.
Fuji had seen Atobe staring at Ryoma who'd been playing Jirou the other say. Fuji had been the only one to see where actually his gaze had been directed at, and again, he was the only one who'd seen the blush forming. So he was the sole person who knew why Atobe had left so suddenly.
Atobe had left his coffee to jump out the door as soon as Ryoma had seen him. Fuji caught hold of the blushing, the widening of eyes again. He smiled as he realized what it all meant.
'Did you see Atobe there?'
'Do you know why he ran out so suddenly?'
'It's because -' He was silenced by Momoshiro. 'Will you come inside already? The counter-girl isn't believing that Eiji and I are ordering for four.'
Ryoma drawled, 'Of course. She knows you two were the idiots who ravished the whole shop last month.'
Fuji restrained Momo from murdering Echizen.
Since then Fuji decided to persuade Tezuka to invite the Hyotei team over a lot. If not that, Eiji bullied while he blackmailed the others into going there.
And Fuji saw that whenever Atobe passed Ryoma, he'd turn his head the other way. He would also see Ryoma's confused and unaffected look. He'd also see it was a mask.
Once Fuji was walking toward the taps to wash his face (Hyotei had come over again and Fuji had played a match with that guy who adored him) when he saw a lone Atobe with his head under a running tap. 'Atobe?' He asked concernedly. He wasn't able to see his expression, as Atobe's wet hair was plastered over part of his face.
'Ore-sama thinks he should stop intruding upon Seigaku's practice anymore...'
Since when did Atobe say he should stop gracing others with his royal presence?
'I don't agree. And I want to know why you ignore Ryoma while you bore us all with your self-admiration.'
'Ore-sama does not have a reason for everything. And ore-sama does not ignore Ryo – Echizen.'
'You do. And you blush around him, you keep your eyes averted from him, and whenever you two are forced to talk you intentionally get into a fight and leave. Tell me the reason.' Atobe knew if Fuji caught hold of the reason (he didn't know Fuji already had) he'd tell Eiji who'd spread it to everyone around. And ore-sama did not like his secrets known to the common, lowly public. Not even those he considered of his calibre.
'Ore-sama said, there's no reason.' Atobe knew there was no point in disagreeing with what Fuji pointed out about him ignoring Ryoma and blushing around him. Fuji was even right about the fighting thing.
So before Fuji could say anything more Atobe haughtily strutted past him like an insulted peacock.
No matter what Atobe had said, Hyotei didn't stop coming over. Instead, their visits now came every day. Fuji tried getting Atobe and Ryoma to play in a match. Once he succeeded, however, Atobe threw down his racket, saying he had hurt his wrist and couldn't play. Out of the corner of Atobe's eyes he saw Ryoma shrug and move away. And Atobe closed his eyes in pain, and only he knew the pain wasn't because of his wrist (uninjured - Atobe had obviously lied) but because Ryoma didn't care.
He had never cared. Atobe wondered whether his love would ever be recognized by Ryoma. Yes, love, Atobe admitted he loved Ryoma - albeit to his mirror only; and then he'd cried as he'd realized his feelings for Ryoma were deeper than his feelings for his reflection.
Tezuka saw Fuji grit his teeth and murmured to him, 'What's the matter?'
'Atobe.' Fuji growled.
Tezuka thought Fuji was jealous of Atobe but he looked for Atobe and when he saw Atobe staring, hopelessly lovesick, at Ryoma's retreating back, he pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache. Usually a sign of foreboding. Fuji was going to do something.
'I am shutting them both in the storage room today.' Fuji vowed. And Tezuka knew when Fuji played matchmaker, anyone who got in his way would be ruthlessly blackmailed into silence.
'Hey, Ryoma, I saw Karupin sleeping in the storage room just now. Could you get your cat?'
'WHAT?' Ryoma ran to the storage room, Fuji hot on his trail.
And as soon as Ryoma rushed inside, Fuji slammed the doors and locked it.
'Hey, Atobe, I saw Jirou sleeping in the storage room just now. Could you get your teammate?'
'WHAT?' Atobe ran to the storage room, but this time Fuji reached the doors before him.
He unlocked them and opened them slightly, pushing a stuck-up, but confused Atobe inside and slamming the doors closed again. He double-locked it this time.
'Hello? Is anyone there?' Atobe called. It was pitch black in here. How dare Fuji lock him inside? Ore-sama could suffocate to death! Oh, but there was a ventilator, way up there. Atobe's indignance deflated remorsefully.
'Monkey King? Oh, holy crap.'
'Brat?' Atobe's heartbeat drastically increased. He immediately turned around and started banging on the door, most unlike his grand self. 'FUJI! FUJI, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! OPEN THE FREAKING DOOR!'
'It's no use.'
'Why?' Atobe was too surprised to even call him 'brat.'
'When Fuji locked Oishi and Kikumaru inside he didn't let them out for a whole day.'
'That's the same for us?'
'Yeah.' Atobe mumbled a curse, giving up, and sat down crosslegged upon the damned dirty floor. No purple cloth this time. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about Ryoma's closeness or his filthy surroundings when suddenly the object of his unrequited affections said, 'Where are you sitting?'
'Near the door.'
'Where's the door?'
'Ore-sama doesn't know, he was mindlessly pushed in here, maybe behind him. And it's dark. It's pitch-black.'
'Marco...' Atobe replied, 'Polo.' They went on like this until Ryoma came to sit down beside Atobe, who was now furiously regretting the moment he'd first said 'Polo.'
'Monkey King, why do you ignore me?'
'There has to be a reason!' Ryoma suddenly flicked on a torch and flashed it into Atobe's eyes, who cringed away and yelled for him to stop. 'I found this where I fell. I won't switch it off until you tell me.' Atobe refused to reply until it started to hurt his eyes. 'Okay, okay! Ore-sama will confess!' A smug Ryoma turned the torch off, darkness shrouding them once more. Atobe immediately grabbed it and flung it far away. There was the sound of something breaking. Ryoma ignored that sound. 'Okay tell.'
'There's no torch now, so ore-sama doesn't need to speak what was necessary.'
Ryoma swore. He cursed viciously and violently, and Atobe pushed him away.
'I love you, Atobe, so I want to know why you've been ignoring me!' Ryoma screeched like a girl. Atobe wanted to grace Ryoma with his laughter but decided he would do that honourable task later. But then he realized what words Ryoma had used.
Silence. Deep, dark silence ensued.
'I will not repeat.' Recalcitrant Ryoma said, his stubborn streak showing.
There was that disturbing silence again. And Atobe asked him, 'Do you wear those one-size-too-small clothes whenever ore-sama is around? Answer ore-sama.'
'Shut up, idiot Monkey King.' Atobe heard a rustling and knew Ryoma had folded his hands.
Atobe was astonished. 'You did wear them because of that...'
'I said, shut up.'
Atobe stated, 'Well, ore-sama is glad.' He reached out blindly for Ryoma and drew him into his arms, just opposite to what he'd done before. Ryoma almost choked. 'How much lavender cologne do you apply?'
'Brat, shut up and be grateful that ore-sama loves you too.'
And Ryoma kissed him. Atobe was amused that the brat was so straightforward. He kissed back. 'Be awed by my prowess... in kissing,' He murmured against Ryoma's lips. Ryoma just mumbled 'Mada mada dane' and kissed him deeper.
*** Five hours later
Fuji had been patiently standing in front of the doors and hearing all those sounds for five hours. Fuji smiled evilly. His task was complete. A minute later he unlocked the doors. A few moments later Ryoma stumbled out, limping horribly. 'Fuji, tell your boyfriend I won't be coming to practice tomorrow...' Fuji frowned. Ryoma had noticed whenever Fuji touched Tezuka's hand.
Atobe strolled out and finished his sentence. 'Or the day after that.'
'Bastard...' Ryoma muttered. 'You fucking ... fucked me!'
'Ore-sama is not at fault. You were the one seducing ore-sama.' There was a definite note of conviviality in Atobe's tone.
'Fucker... you be the uke once, you'll know how much it hurts, then!' Ryoma mumbled again, before he was lifted up, bridal-style by Atobe and carried away.
His Fila cap fell to the ground and Atobe ignored Ryoma's cry of dismay. 'I'll buy you a new one. After I'm finished with what I have in mind.' He turned his head and grinned at Fuji.
Fuji started laughing.
Owari - Please review!