A/N: We have a story about why we wrote this. I guess though, it's not as much of a story as it is an amusing event... Remember a few months ago when they had an episode of MADE on MTV with a rabid otaku who got to meet Vic Mignogna? Uuuuuummmm. Well. Vic's a bit of a diva IRL we think... Um...a little like Atobe. (Vic fans DO NOT KILL US) But. Yeah. This is what happened in my brain and I decided we were going to write it. -Kate.



Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei's, besides dumb nameless ho.

Warnings: Anal. Atobe showing a tad bit of his exhibitionist side.


Atobe was very bored. Normally he would never allow himself to look so utterly unbecoming in public, eyes half-lidded and his chin in his hand, elbow resting on the table, but really. Why would anyone in the world think that Atobe Keigo would care in the slightest about all the minuscule details of their mundane lives?

Now the woman was jabbering about something or another—her cat maybe? Atobe was only half-listening—and Atobe did his best to smile and look interested.

"Does Atobe-san have any pets?"

"In a manner of speaking," Atobe said with a smirk, then paused, realizing that present company certainly was not in on the joke. "No, no, I don't. The mansion's too big, I expect I'd lose track of a dog or cat, and there's not much point in having one if I leave it to the servants and never see it. There is a stable, but I wouldn't say the horses are my pets."

"Wow," the woman said breathlessly. What on earth was her name again? "A stable, really? Do you ride often?"

"When I can," Atobe said offhandedly, "but I'm quite busy, as you must know. And I play tennis in my free-time, mostly."

"Ah, I've seen articles about you playing with Echizen Ryoma-san! I follow pro-tennis. What's Echizen-san like?"

Atobe almost huffed in irritation. This was supposed to be about him, not that little cretin Echizen. "One of the most thoroughly unpleasant people you could ever meet."

"Oh..." She played with the food on her plate, and Atobe had to bite his tongue to hold back a most cruel remark about her atrocious table manners. "What about the other players you frequently play?"

"Which ones?" There were many people from his former high school circuit that he frequently played now.

"Well, Tezuka-san, Yukimura-san, Fuji-san, Kirihara-san, Sanada-san, you played with them in high school and middle school games... Have they changed at all? What were they like as children?"

"Tezuka is about as fun as a rock, though quite a brilliant player. I'm not quite as familiar with Yukimura-san. We don't exactly see eye to eye on certain things that each of us consider to be our area of expertise—"

"Oh? Like what?" She leaned forward.

Atobe sat back in his chair. "Certain people. But you wanted to know about Fuji, Kirihara, and Sanada, correct?"

The woman nodded quickly. "Yes, tell me everything!"

"Remind me to fire whoever set up that contest."

"Was it that bad?" Sanada took Atobe's suit jacket from him and hung it up in his front closet.

"That woman wouldn't know the difference between a dinner fork and a salad fork if I stabbed her in the eyes with them."

"I don't know the difference between a salad and dinner fork, Keigo."

"But you're different!"

"How so?"

Atobe collapsed onto Sanada's couch and sprawled on it, one arm tossed over his head, one leg hooked over the back, and Sanada was certain Atobe was the only person in the world who could make the whole act of it look graceful. "You," Atobe said, "do not talk incessantly to me about your pets. You are more interesting than a block of cheese." His voice was getting louder and a little more heated. "You are not so desperate that you would enter a contest called 'Win a Date with Atobe Keigo!'"

"I wouldn't need to," Sanada pointed out, somewhere between exasperation and amusement as he pushed Atobe's legs away so he could sit next to his boyfriend.

"That is beside the point, Genichirou. The point is that I can forgive your lack of sophisticated upbringing because you have numerous positive qualities, but this woman—she had nothing interesting to say at all. She just wanted me to talk about you—and the brat, and Tezuka and his wife or whatever Fuji is, and Yukimura, for goodness' sake! It was completely intolerable, I can hardly believe I managed to sit through the meal."

Sanada took one of the feet that were now resting on his lap and dug his thumbs into the sole. "Perhaps I should draw you a bubble bath?"

"Mm... only if you'll join me. But keep doing that for a bit," Atobe ordered, waving vaguely at Sanada's hands. "It feels lovely."

"Was the food good, at least?"

"I picked the restaurant, of course it was good. Though I'm surprised they even let me do that. Honestly, there should have been a screening process, rather than just picking by raffle. I might have actually found a decent conversationalist at the very least."

Sanada snorted and switched to the other foot.

"You are a god," Atobe groaned.

"So you tell me."

"No, really, you are the complete opposite of that woman."

"And if I started talking about my pets and Echizen and Yukimura and eating with the wrong utensil?"

Atobe gave him a look that clearly said "that isn't even funny."

Sanada couldn't help but smirk.

"Besides, you don't have a pet."

"Not at the moment, but Marui's cat did have kittens a few weeks ago." The scowl made Sanada smile. "He's been pestering me to get a companion for a while now."

Atobe snorted. "You're my companion."

"Well," Sanada said carefully, "you travel quite often."

"If you start going on about loneliness, I'll walk out."

"You won't," Sanada said knowingly. "I've promised you a hot bath."

"I believe I own a very large jacuzzi tub which would suffice. Far better than yours would."

"But your very large jacuzzi tub cannot provide you with sex," Sanada pointed out. "As I was saying, you travel quite often, and I think I'd like having a dog."

"Dirty things, dogs," Atobe said testily. "Shed all over the place and use your whole house as a toilet."

"They're loyal and friendly. If it bothers you that much, I'll get a short-haired one. Not that you have legitimate authority when it comes to the things I keep in my apartment. And I'll house-train it, of course."

"Fine then. If you think you're lacking affection."

"Oh, stop being petty, it doesn't suit you." Sanada traced around the edge of Atobe's palm. "To the bathroom, then?"

Atobe removed his feet from Sanada's lap reluctantly. "I suppose." He pulled himself up.

They undressed on their way to the bathroom, leaving shirts and pants and other articles of clothing fluttering to the floor in their path.

"Bubbles?" Sanada asked.

"Yes, and candles and mood music."

Sanada rolled his eyes. "I spoil you."

"I spoil you too, Genichirou."

It was the dark-hair man's turn to snort.

"I take you to the most luxurious restaurants and hotels all over the world."

"And, for some reason, I let you."

"Hmpf, well then, if you don't like spending time with me maybe we shouldn't be together."

Sanada rolled his eyes. "I like spending time with you, or I wouldn't do those things at all, Keigo." He trailed a hand over the man's lower back as he walked past him to put a CD into the bathroom's small stereo.

"You are in quite a mood tonight," Sanada told Atobe, climbing in the tub. Atobe followed, depositing himself in Sanada's lap and sighing.

"I don't know how you can stand this tiny thing. Even by yourself it must be cramped."

"I don't mind," Sanada said, "and I can't do anything about it."

"Someday," Atobe said, and Sanada knew what was coming—he'd heard it before, "when my father's dead and I don't need to worry about losing my inheritance, you'll come live in the mansion with me. Honestly, I wouldn't wish this apartment on my worst enemy. Besides, this sneaking around business is becoming tiresome."

Sanada didn't answer, just forced a hand between their tightly-pressed bodies and wrapped his fingers around Atobe's length, smiling at Atobe's choked moan. He knew Atobe would make good on his word, and he didn't need constantly reassured.

"How anyone manages to be attracted to empty-headed women," Atobe gasped, "when there are people like you running around is completely beyond me."

"Some men," Sanada replied, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement, "are heterosexual." He tweaked Atobe's nipple with his left hand. "If you can believe it."

"Not really," Atobe moaned, tossing his head back. He removed one of the hands that had found its way around Sanada's neck to curl around his partner's cock.

Sanada moaned, wrapping the hand on Atobe's chest around his waist and leaning forward to rest his forehead on Atobe's shoulder. Atobe always gave as good as he got, and Sanada was not used to controlling his reactions like Atobe was.

"Want you." Atobe cocked his head to kiss Sanada.

"You have no idea." Sanada muttered into the mouth against his. He traced the purple-haired man's entrance with the hand formerly on his cock.

Atobe groaned and arched up, pressing back against Sanada's hand. The finger slipped inside, and Atobe squirmed, a bit in discomfort. "Need some sort of—" he panted, breath catching as the appendage inside him twisted.

Sanada glanced around. "I don't think—"

"I don't care what you use, if you're not fucking me in the next two minutes, I'm going to have you killed."

As Atobe could indeed do just that, with all the connections he had, Sanada leaned up to grab a bottle of hand lotion from the sink. "Is this—"

"I. Don't. Care."

Sanada quirked his finger again, reducing Atobe's level of coherency to further dwindle into a moan so he could one-handedly get lotion on his hand and pressed the lubed finger of one hand in beside the unlubed one before removing it.


Sanada pushed a second finger in and stretched the muscles as thoroughly as he could in what was left of Atobe's two minute time frame.

He knew it was up when Atobe pulled away from him and clambered out of the tub, sloshing water over the side.


"I want to watch you," he said, bracing his hands against the edge of the sink and displaying his ass for Sanada.

Rolling his eyes at his boyfriend's exhibitionist tendencies, Sanada followed him out and took Atobe's slim hips in his hands. "Are you ready?"

"I am quite ready, now will you get a move on?"

Sanada didn't answer, just nestled his face in Atobe's neck and pushed inside him.

Atobe's knees buckled, a low moan escaping him, and Sanada had a job of keeping him standing while maintaining the rhythm he was starting to establish. Atobe was moving with him, his hips pressing back to meet Sanada's thrusts.

"You know," Atobe said breathlessly as Sanada's hand came around to grip his length, "I've discovered yet another thing about you that I like better than that woman."

"I doubt the list will ever be exhaustive," Sanada grunted. "Must we continue?"

Atobe ignored him. "She would probably expect me to do all the work in bed. I quite like being lavished with attention."

"That's downright romantic," Sanada said, managing a dry tone even when he was breathing so heavily.

"And—" Atobe started to continue.

"Shut up or I'll make you clean off the mirror when we're done," Sanada grunted, latching his lips to the back of Atobe's shoulder.

Atobe flexed around Sanada. "You will do no such thing." He choked back a moan.

Sanada paused to glare at Atobe in the mirror.

"If you don't move..."

"You'll what?"

"I'll—" Atobe screwed his eyes shut as Sanada unexpectedly snapped his hips and thumbed the head of his cock in one motion. "Fuck you..." he panted over his shoulder, no longer able to see in the mirror due to certain sticky white fluids.

Sanada smirked, thrusting lazily though his own orgasm. "I just did."

Later they were tangled together under the blankets on Sanada's bed. "You don't have to remind me that you want us to be together permanently, or make me reciprocate the notion through sex."

"What are you talking about?" Atobe grumbled.

"Earlier, what you said." Sanada pressed a kiss to the curve of Atobe's jaw.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Genichirou."

"One day you'll have me move in, and we have to have sex in two minutes..." Sanada paused to complete his thought. "I suppose you think I'm getting the raw end of the deal, and I'm sorry if I don't say it enough and it's making you insecure, but I'm not your fan. I'm to going to leave because of those things. I'm not that stupid woman you had dinner with."

"Thank God."