Another Silver fic, this time it's a twoshot. I was originally going to make this a oneshot but it got too long and so I decided to cut it. The second part isn't gonna take too long to post.

Warnings: Shounen-ai Silver Pair. Some typos and Maybe OOC. Mentions of Adorable and Dirty.

Shishido Ryou tapped his foot impatiently against the hard concrete, checking his watch every now and then to look that the slowly passing time. Damn it, it was ten minutes after four, and he promised that he would be here at four sharp.

What the hell is taking him so long?! He thought, his patience wearing thin. He wasn't a very patient person at the start, and with his nerves frazzled like this, he was bound to be more irritated than his usual. He leaned against the wall of the school compound, closing his eyes and trying to tame down the irritated snarl that was starting to rise on his throat. It really wouldn't be productive if he would punch the wall right now, since he knew the wall wouldn't even crack and he would be just nursing a bruised knuckle, resulting in him not being able to attend tennis practice, which would worry his doubles partner greatly.

Just the thought of his younger, innocent partner made him smile, the tension in his body drastically decreasing. Ootori Choutarou was good for him in various ways, and this is one of them. He could almost hear the chiding voice of the silver haired teen, telling him to calm down. A loud honk interrupted his musing however, and the image of his doubles partner disappeared, making him scowl, his annoyance returning back in full force.

"Get in, Shishido." An arrogant, holier-than-voice voice said to him from inside the sleek, black limousine exiting the gates of the campus. He grumbled back, pushing himself from the position in the wall to cross his arms and glare at the person inside the car, who rolled down the heavily tinted windows, looking up at him, wearing dark shaded sunglasses.

"What the hell took you so long, Atobe?"

The self-proclaimed (and already titled) King of the Hyotei Gakuen stared at him with a condensing look, as if he was taking to a mere six year old. "Ore-sama has many responsibilities in Hyotei, so be grateful that Ore-sama has decided to help you in your endeavor, Shishido."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Thanks a lot, Atobe." Shishido rolled his eyes as Atobe gave a little huff, muttering something along the lines of 'ungrateful bastard' before rolling up the window, letting Shishido in without too much of a fuss. He climbed in the limousine, and was promptly given the shock of his life.

"… What the fuck are you two doing here?!"

Oshitari Yuushi smirked at him from his lounging place by the window, facing Atobe. "Hello, Shishido. A little birdie told me that you needed some… assistance, and I would be happy to lend a hand." His violet blue eyes twinkled mischievously behind his round-shaped glasses. "All in the name of my amusement, of course."

"Fuck off, Oshitari. I didn't ask you for help." He countered back rudely, opting to glare accusingly instead at the diva. "You told him about this, didn't you?"

"Ore-sama did not do such thing." Atobe rolled his eyes in reply. "Oshitari just happened to hear of our conversation and has invited himself to our little outing. But it will be for the best. His opinion will of valuable use to us." He answered dismissively. "Kabaji, let's go."

"Usu." Shishido tried not to physically jump – and failed, as the quiet second year answer with his usual taciturnity, as he was sitting in front of the limousine, beside the driver. And the car moved forward again, but Shishido wasn't finished with his complaints yet.

"Fine, Oshitari may be able to do something," He grudgingly admitted, emphasizing the last word, internally smirking when the tensai's eyebrow shot up, "But what is he," He gestured wildly to the strawberry blond head that rested on Atobe's lap, "going to do?"

"Jirou would be an immense help, Shishido." The diva's blue eyes turned to the sleeping teenager below him, a small, soft smile betraying his features. "Jirou has fine taste. It's almost as good as Ore-sama's."

Ohistari chuckled, his deep seductive voice making Shishido almost shiver. Key word on the almost. "Well, I won't contest that. Akutagwa-kun does have good taste, especially in choosing his… men."

"Watch it, Oshitari." Atobe suddenly growled at him. The blunet only smirked wider, if only to incense the diva further. Atobe was about to retort when the blond on his lap shifted, blearily opening his eyes, showing eyes of soft, caramel brown.

"H-Huh?" He rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Wh-where am I?" He yawned. He looked up, seeing Atobe's handsome face above him. "Oh. Hey, Keigo-chan." The volley specialist smiled softly, still rubbing his eyes slightly. "I fell asleep again? Where did you find me this time, Keigo-chan?"

"Didn't Ore-sama tell you not to sleep anywhere unless it's on the clubroom couch?" Atobe scolded the teen, who was beginning to look sheepish. "Ore-sama has been looking everywhere for you."

Oh, so THAT'S why Atobe was late, Shishido realized with another eye roll. Jirou giggled back. "Sorry, sorry, Keigo-chan. It's not gonna happen again, promise. Wake me up when we get there, 'kay?" He reached up and gave a swift peck to the diva's cheek and snuggled against him, dozing off to sleep again as Atobe blinked, probably wondering what the hell happened.

It was silent in the compartment…

Until Oshitari barked out a loud sound of laughter. "You are so whipped, Atobe."

It was Jirou's body physically restraining him that Atobe didn't lunge at the glasses-wearing teen just then, and was instead glaring daggers at him, with the tensai looking very amused. Shishido opted to ignore them and stared out of the window, thinking about that day that put him in this predicament in the first place…

"Shishido-san, can I ask you something?" Choutarou asked him one slow day during tennis practice. Both of them were cooling off from a heated match with Gakuto and Oshitari, and had just barely won with a tiebreaker. The older teen sat back from his reclined position on the bench, a water bottle in hand.

"Sure. What's up?"

"Well…um… you know that the yearly recital starts next week, right?" Choutarou asked hesitatingly, his soft, brown eyes concentrating on the ground below him, unable to meet his senpai's gaze.

"Yeah." Why wouldn't he? It was the main reason that he was bereft of a doubles partner all week, since the said partner was participating in the recital as a solo pianist. Shishido tried not to show his annoyance, though. It would make him extremely guilty if he would make Choutarou think that he had abandoned his doubles partner. Not that he needed Choutarou to be with him. Definitely NOT. "What about it?"

"Would you… would you like to go and listen to my recital, Shishido-san?" Choutarou asked shyly, blushing darkly when Shishido straightened out in his seat to look at him in surprise. "It would really mean a lot to me." He continued earnestly, finally looking up to meet Shishido's startled gaze with his own hopeful ones.

Whatever Choutarou wanted to ask, Shishido hadn't been expecting THAT. He fumbled with the container on his hands, not wanting to look at his kouhai. Classical music wasn't really his thing. That and the fact that he would have to wear a tight, stuffy formal suit in a crowd of rich, snobbish students didn't make the idea very appealing to him.

But seeing Choutarou's face, looking so hopeful, Shishido didn't have the heart to refuse him. Who would, with that heartbreaking puppy-dog look? Maybe he would make an exception, just this once.

"Sure." He finally agreed, albeit grudgingly. He was going to regret this, he was sure of it. "I'll go."

"Really?! You'll really watch?!" Choutarou's face lit up at the answer. He was afraid that the older teen would refuse him.

"Why not? It's your recital, after all." And it's you who's going to play, so I don't mind. Shishido blinked in surprise as the thought suddenly made its way in his mind. What did I just think about?!

But he didn't have time to think about that, because Choutarou immediately grabbed his hands, smiling brilliantly. "Thank you very much, Shishido-san! It's a promise, then! I'll wait for you to arrive there then!"

His face suddenly felt warm. He coughed, discreetly withdrawing his hands from his kouhai's grasp to hide the blush that suddenly spread to his cheeks. "Don't worry about it. I'll come. I promise."

And as Choutarou was called by their coach in regards to the recital, Shishido was struck with a realization that made him groan loudly.

He had nothing to WEAR.

His daydream was fantastically ruined when the limo suddenly made a screeching stop. He blinked and focused outside the window he had absentmindedly been looking out. "…Where are we?"

"Oh? We've arrived?" Oshitari peered interestedly out the window. "That was rather fast of you, Atobe."

"Ore-sama bigi ni yoi na." Atobe answered haughtily, lightly shaking the teen on his lap awake. "Jirou, we have arrived." The blond teen yawned, opening his eyes and letting it roam over to the building outside.

"Waaaaai! Yey! Let's go, 'Shido! We don't have much time!" He suddenly sprang up like a ball of energy, grabbing Shishido's arm, which was in the danger of being pulled out of its socket by the way Jirou was tugging on it.

"Wha- Jirou, wait! Let go of me!" Shishido was dragged out of the car, followed by a chuckling Oshitari and an irate Atobe. "Where are we?!"

His question was immediately answered when he saw the name of the various stalls scattered outside and towards a boutique in which Jirou was pushing him into.

Louis Vuitton. Hermes. Giorgio Armani.

Shishido grimaced. This was going to be a long, long day.


Ootori Choutarou couldn't help but walk around in circles, his anxiety making the pressure he felt a thousand times worse. It was a little over six in the evening, but the people had begun to arrive, their muted voices managing to pass through the thick curtain of the back stage. He smoothened out his white and silver tuxedo, feeling his hand tremble with nervousness. He gulped down deep breaths, using the exercise technique his maestro had taught him to do. The recital would start in two hours and he wouldn't feel this… tense whenever he would perform, but today's performance is more special than the rest. Especially since –

"Choutarou." A voice suddenly said behind him and he literally jumped in surprise, turning around to see who called him.

"M-Maestro!" He choked on his words. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry. Well, someone's particularly jumpy today." His music instructor continued good-naturedly with a hint of amusement. "Any particular reason why?"

"T-That's–" He stuttered back, and the other couldn't help but laugh at the tall teen's actions. "Calm down, Choutarou. Deep breaths. Don't let the tempo of your heartbeat carry you into a rhythm you can't control." The teacher intoned softly, guiding the student into one of their many sessions, seeing the teen visibly relax after a while.

"Thank you, Maestro." He smiled at his teacher gratefully. The teacher smiled back, but quickly frowned, worrying. "I'm always glad to help, Choutarou. But you seem very anxious today. More so than your previous recitals. Is there any particular reason why?"

"U-um…" Choutarou blushed profusely, scratching at the back of his head. "I... invited my sempai to watch my recital and… this is the first time that he's going to watch… so I'm kind of nervous…"

The teacher started to smile knowingly at Choutarou's bashful expression. "And? How does this senpai of yours look like?"

"He's… shorter than me, I guess… he has short brown hair, which he hides under a blue cap… but his hair was longer before, before he cut it…" Choutarou started off thoughtfully, starting to smile unconsciously as he described his doubles partner. "He has dark brown eyes… and it always looks intense whenever we would play a match… and…" His cheeks took on a more vibrant shade of pink. "He's good-looking… even if he doesn't notice it, but a lot of girls from my year are always talking about him, telling me how handsome Shishido-san is…" He trailed off, smiling softly. And then he saw the way his teacher was openly grinning madly at him. He squeaked and stiffened up, his face redder than a tomato.

"So that's the guy, huh, Choutarou?~" His teacher sing songed, starting to move away. "Don't worry! When I find someone in the crowd with the same description, I'll let you know!"


A short bark of laughter followed.


"Damn it… this is exactly why I didn't want to go to that recital in the first place…"

Eyebrow twitching, Shishido surveyed himself in the mirror with distaste, already hating the tight, constricting clothing that Jirou had put him into. But he had to admit that Atobe was right. Jirou did have great fashion sense.

"Hey, 'Shido! Are you done?! Show it to us already!" The blonde's loud, impatient voice interrupted his thoughts and he twitched, not wanting to get out of that godforsaken dressing room for as long as he lived.

But, sadly, Jirou seemed to know that too.

"Hey, hey! Don't be shy! I know you'll look great!" A hand suddenly shot out of nowhere and grabbed his arm, dragging him outside of his temporary comfort zone. He struggled to get free, really he did, but he was just no match for the sugar high tennis player, who was hell bent on embarrassing him to the whole world. Well, in his mind anyway.

The curtain was unceremoniously pulled back and he was subjected to two pairs of eyes looking at him critically from head to toe. He bit his lip and blushed, muttering incoherent sentences under his breath.

"Well… This is a surprise." Oshitari was the first one to comment. "Who knew that Shishido could look this… dashing?"

"Wai! Shishido, you look so cool!" Jirou cheered.

"Ore-sama is always right, of course." Atobe nodded his approval. "You could never go wrong with black. The silver is, Ore-sama would admit, a risk, but Jirou, once again, has proven Ore-sama wrong."

"I-Idiot! Don't say things like that!" Shishido spluttered, turning redder by the second. "I know I look weird, okay?! Gekki daza daze… why the hell did I ask for your help in the first place?" He muttered.

"Not at all, Shishido. You look very… handsome." Oshitari purred, edging closer to the stall, making Shishido step back in slight fear as shivers started crawling up his spine. "What the hell are you trying to pull, Oshitari?" He snarled, putting on a defensive stance.

"Now the only thing left to do…" Oshitari raised his eyes suggestively, lowering his voice to a husky quality. "Is to do… that."

"What is… that?" Despite the warning bells in his head, Shishido just had to ask.

In one single motion Oshitari stood in front of him, blocking his only way out of the stall. Smirking a little at Shishido's intensely fearful look, the tensai looked back at Atobe.

"We might, uh... take a while, Atobe." He drawled out. "Will that be all right?"

"Do as you like." Atobe shrugged in nonchalance as Jirou started yawning once again. "Just don't take too long. We don't have much time."

"Understood. Now Shishido… where were we?" Slowly he stepped into the stall, shutting the curtain close behind him, looking evilly lecherous.

"No… Stay away…! Not that..! Anything but that…!" Shishido's eyes widened when he saw Oshitari's hands going for his pants.

"This won't hurt, Shishido… much."

"No! Let go of me! Don't touch – ah! No, stop it! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


"Before you ask Choutarou, your senpai isn't here yet." The teacher cut off the question of the teen before he even opened his mouth. Choutarou looked down, feeling disappointed, making his teacher cringe visibly at the kicked puppy look. "Hey, don't look so down! I'm sure that he'll come. And it's still early, so rest easy and concentrate on your upcoming performance, okay?"


But even as the teacher said those words, Choutarou still couldn't help but glance out from the curtains every now and then, hoping that a particular seat would already be filled.


"Oshitari… I hate you and I hope that you die in hell." Shishido rasped out, giving the bespectacled teen a death glare which he returned with a triumphant smirk.

"How cruel Shishido, and after all the things that I've done for you…"

"What you've done! You violated me!"

"Violated is hardly the term I call for it." Oshitari rolled his eyes as they exited the boutique, waiting at the curb where Atobe's limo would pick them up. "I merely did you a favor."

"Taking off my cap and globbing a chunkful of hair gel on my hair is not doing me a favor! And why the hell do you even have a tube of hair gel in your pockets?!"

"It helps keep Gakuto's hair in shape after… certain activities." His glasses glinted.

I don't even wanna know. Shishido grumbled, seeing the car stop by in front of them. Just as he was about to enter, he caught something at the corner of his eye.

"Shishido, get in. Ootori-kun's performance will start soon." The tensai realized that the dash specialist wasn't even listening to him. "What's the matter?"

"Go on ahead." Shishido wasn't looking at him; rather, he was looking at something behind the car. Oshitari noticed that the teen has his jaw clenched tightly, his face set in an oddly determined look.


"Just go." He slammed the door shut.

"But Shishido! Ootori-kun will–!"

"Tell Choutarou…" Shishido interrupted him, still looking off at a faraway distance. "That I'll be late. But I'll come. And that… I won't go back on my word."

"Shishido!" But it was useless. The teen had already dashed off somewhere, leaving his teammates behind.

"What is going on? With Shishido running off that like that…!"

"Let's go, Kabaji. We'll be late." Atobe snapped his fingers.

"Usu." And at once, the car engine purred into life, already moving forward.

"Atobe, what are you–"

"Leave him, Oshitari." Atobe has his Insight pose on, staring out the window, Jirou sleeping soundly on his lap. "He has something to do first. But he'll come back. Ore-sama is sure of it."


"Choutarou-kun, it's time."

So soon?! Quickly he glanced up to the clock, only to see that yes, it's time for the performance to start. He stood up and dashed for the curtain, peeking through it and realized, with horror, that the seat in front was still empty.

"Can't we wait just a little bit more?" He pleaded.

But the organizer shook her head. "Sorry, Choutarou-kun. The audience has been waiting for too long. We can't delay it more than what we did now."

"…Oh." He can't believe it.

Why isn't he here yet? Did… something happen? Or… he didn't want to come after all?

With that thought he let his hold on the curtains slacken. Was that really possible? Could Shishido-san really have… stood him up?

Head bowed, he tried to stop the tears of hurt and betrayal that was sure to follow.

Reviews and constuctive criticism appreciated.