In which everyone secretly has a crush on either Keigo or Ryoma and their sex life gets distorts but they still go at it with all their snark and barbs and occasional fluff.

Last fluff from me in a looooong time. Because right now I'm writing up the angst after angst after angst. With my revisions, of course.

Warning: Fuji is cracky and Ooc as hell because I love him that way. Or, just Seigaku in general.


The damn brat again. Keigo groans and pokes Ryoma sharply in the ribs. "Oi. Your fanboy is here."

Ryoma mumbles an incoherent jumble of words that Keigo is sure that makes no sense, and besides he still wanted the extra hour to sleep before practice began. "Echizen." Another sharp poke. "Go and engage with that kid before he wakes the entire hallway."

"Argh." Ryoma groans and turns over, sleep clouding his hazel eyes. "Why don't you play with him? I'm pretty sure he's not averse to monkeys with a racket," he grouches, and yelps when Keigo tugs the sheets away from him in reply.

"Seeing how he's not deserving of my far more superior tennis moves," Keigo says archly, "I daresay you would prove to be his better half."

"You just dissed the person who beat you yesterday, you know," Ryoma retorts, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Two losses against one win," Keigo scoffs, digging deeper into the covers, now that he has monopoly over them, "Surely you can do the math." He's pretty sure that Ryoma's making a face. "Go on, before he realizes you're not in your bed and report you MIA."

"I hate you," Ryoma mutters, grabbing his racket and haphazardly tossing his belongings into his bag. He bends down to look for his other missing shoe.

"Mm," Keigo says, "Don't forget your shirt."

He's pretty sure Ryoma's aiming a finger at him, but by that time his eyes are closed.

Ryoma is still glowering when Keigo comes by after his morning routine exercise.

"See how nice and wonderful I am, catering to your caffeine needs like a waiter," he drawls out, handing the younger boy a cup of coffee, "Two cubes of sugar too, before you ask."

Ryoma scowls and tries to snatch away the cup of coffee from him, but Keigo takes a step back and tsks. "Manners," Keigo says, "What do we normally say when civil people try to help a deprived person in need?"

Ryoma rolls his eyes. "Thank you, dear," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "My, what in the world I would do without you."

"Close enough," Keigo concedes with a smirk, and Ryoma makes another face at him before taking the coffee and taking a sip.

"I'm presuming that you both stopped at tie-break again?" Keigo inquires. Ryoma drinks a few sips and close his eyes in small bliss.

"No," Ryoma says flatly, "as if I'd be dumb enough to play him at six in the morning."

"Still a glaring lack of stamina, I see," Keigo says pleasantly. Before Ryoma could reply back a sharp retort, Keigo leans over and kisses him. Only thirty minutes left until the daily ranking matches begins.

"Price of coffee," he says against Ryoma's lips, and turns away to go to shower.

Kintarou is pouting. Ryoma would find it cute if the boy was five.

"Koshimae," Kintarou whines, tugging on his sleeve, "You canceled our match today! I was waiting for you!"

"I didn't realize we had a fixed schedule," Ryoma says dryly. As much as he liked playing tennis with the other high schooler, playing with him for the past week had really worn him out of any energy to do anything.

"We do now!"

"I veto it."

Kintarou gives out a little frown and declares, "Well…I veto that veto!"

Ryoma refrains from rolling his eyes. He needs to prove that he's the more reasonable of the two.

"If Koshimae doesn't play, I'll avoid Koshimae so he'll be the one begging for a match with me!" Kintarou says triumphantly, as if he thought it was a brilliant idea. Ryoma fervently hopes he'll keep his word.

"Uh-huh," he says, almost amicably, and is about to flee when he spots Kegio talking to Tezuka. An involuntary frown forms on his face, and before he knows what he's saying, he agrees. "Okay, we can play on the empty court there." He points to the court that Tezuka and Keigo are talking nearby.

"Okay!" Kintarou agrees happily, then scrunches his nose in confusion. "But that's not the court we normally play in."

"Do you want this match or not?"

"Yes, yes!" Kintarou whirls his racket at him and grins. "Prepare to be defeated!" he crows.

Ryoma groans inwardly.

"No," Ryoma snaps sharply when Keigo enters his dorm, "I don't want to see you. I'm tired." He waves a hand away as if Keigo would magically disappear. He's comfortable in his splayed state on his bed, and wouldn't grant Keigo the grace of sitting up for the sake of mediocre company.

Keigo, of course, does no such thing. "I think I spoiled you too much," he observes, before sitting on the side of Ryoma's bed. "I thought you implied you had no stamina. That wasn't the impression I got from your match with the other brat."

"Yeah, well, maybe your coffee revived me," he grouches, and makes a strangled sound as Keigo skims his fingers under Ryoma's shirt. "What are you doing?"

"Liar," Keigo accuses, and bends down to kiss him lightly on the side of his neck. Ryoma crosses his arms. "I think I told you this before, but you sound bitchier when you lie."

Ryoma scowls. "Momo-senpai's match is almost over," he says, pushing Keigo away. Keigo raises an eyebrow and shrugs.

"I'm sure he has common sense not to come here in his sweaty state," he drawls out, and adds, "Especially since I might have mentioned to him in passing that I'll be gracing your room a visit."

"You did what?—mmrrpph."

"Now, are we going to stand here arguing," Keigo murmurs, his hands already working to take off Ryoma's shirt, "Or are we going to prove that your stamina is still in a perilous state that needs improvement?"

Ryoma rolls his eyes but his hands reach to unbuckle Keigo's belt. "Point," he says, "But at least I last longer than you."

"You should go," Ryoma murmurs, not content than he would have been an hour ago, and nuzzles Keigo's neck half-heartedly. His fingers unconsciously brush against Keigo's locks and his legs spoon around Kegio's waist.

"And yet here I am, trapped in your incessant need to cuddle," Keigo says dryly, but doesn't attempt to free himself out of Ryoma's embrace. He strokes Ryoma's hair and places a small kiss at the tip of his ear.

He feels Ryoma grin against his neck. Or a smirk?—he really can't tell, the feeling of curved lips is the same. "I can't help it if you make a passable teddy bear," Ryoma says, nicely enough.

Keigo snorts quietly. "You know, that's not a really good way of persuading someone to stay," he jibes, "Especially since you're the type of person who hogs all the bedcovers."

"Do not."

"Mmm-hmm. The offender in crime never remembers."
"You kick me in your sleep."

Keigo tugs lightly at one of the boy's black locks. "That's because you attempt to push me out of bed in your unconscious state."

"So my id does hate you. Comforting to know," Ryoma says dismissively, then yawns. He has the expression of a cat about to enjoy the last hours of sunbathing before he curls up for a nap. "Did you lock the door?"

"Yes I did. And if I remember correctly, you're the more exhibitionist of us two."
"Yeah, but you seem to be particularly careless when it comes to Momo-senpai," Ryoma murmurs, about to go to sleep. "And no," he adds, placing a hand on Keigo's mouth before he can retort back anything, "It's not a marvelous coincidence that your desires to screw me over corresponds with Momo-senpai intruding wherever we go."

"Just like your desire to ignore me has nothing to do with Tezuka trying to socialize with me?" Keigo offers, taking Ryoma's hand in his. Ryoma pokes him for that.

"That's because Tezuka-buchou can do better," he informs Keigo, and pokes him again before Keigo could make another debate out of it.

"I see logical reasoning is your second nature," Keigo says.

He hears a squawk and cracks open one eye. Momoshiro is standing in front of them, his eyes bulging and his mouth open.

"You look like an idiot," he tells the second-year firmly, carefully disentangling himself from Ryoma. When Ryoma makes a small sound, he rakes the boy's locks slowly to lure him back into the deeper unconsciousness.

Momoshiro squawks quieter this time.

"I forgot you had a key to this room," Keigo says, which is not really true, but Momoshiro (and Ryoma) did not really need to know that, "Or maybe next time, a locked door should have been your first clue to not disturb."

Momoshiro recovers, or tries to. "This is my room!" he sputters indignantly. Keigo rolls his eyes at the lack of logical skills all the Seigaku players seem to have. "And—and—" Momoshiro stares at Ryoma's sleeping form for a minute and Keigo sees those ears turning red. "I—I'll go take a shower now," he says in a smaller voice, and darts out of the room.

Keigo frowns at his retreating back.


Keigo doesn't even bother to look at how Jirou would be twirling in a thousand and one directions. "Of course it is," he says, and throws the ball for another serve.

Ryoma scowls from the sidelines.

"When did Atobe-san make another serve move?" Momoshiro says dumbly, watching the rally go back and forth. Jirou was taking out his volley moves but yet had taken a score from Keigo.

"When he was busy sneaking out after practice," Ryoma grumbles under his breath. Monkey King never showed that serve in their rally yesterday. "I'm hungry," he announces, in a louder tone, so that Momoshiro looks at him, confused. "Eh? Aren't you going to watch the game?"

Ryoma makes an annoyed sound. "Monkey King's going to win anyways, so no," he says, and heads towards the vending machines to retrieve some Ponta.

Momoshiro frowns at him, more confused than ever.

Ryoma corners him after dinner.

"We're two rooms away from our teams," Keigo points out, although he doesn't prevent Ryoma from dragging him to a secluded corner and kissing his way down his neck, "You're such a thrill seeker sometimes."

"Shut up," Ryoma says easily, and engages in another kiss as he struggles to pull off Keigo's shirt. Keigo laughs quietly. "Would this have to do with my performance with Jiroh today?" he inquires, "You were intent on leaving as soon as possible."

Ryoma shrugs, and makes a strangled sound when Keigo nips sharply at his collarbone. "Ow! Don't do that," he snaps quietly.

Keigo ignores him and smoothens the bite with a few kisses that would surely leave a mark. He grasps both of Ryoma's hands when they come up to restrain him. "Not where everyone can see," Ryoma hisses quietly (he was sure that he heard some footsteps) and a moment later whimpers as Keigo's hold on his hands tighten as his kisses become more intense. He finds himself leaning against the wall (when the hell did Keigo steer him there?) and holding his breath as Keigo doffs off Ryoma's shirt and letting it fall between them.

"I thought you liked being an exhibitionist," Keigo says, with feigned surprise, "I'm only indulging in your fetishes." His grin becomes more feral as he traces down a finger down Ryoma's chest. Ryoma lets out a sharp breath.

"Bastard," Ryoma says.

"Your insults lack originality," Keigo says loftily, and reaches down to tug down Ryoma's pants. His hands slither inside his underwear. Ryoma grits his teeth and refrains from throwing back his head. Instead, he shakes off Keigo's hand roughly on his arms. His left hand skims Keigo's sides. His other hand grabs the back of Keigo's neck and kisses him forcefully.

Keigo's groans melt into the kiss, their bodies closer than ever, eliminating any space and Keigo's groin is hard and stiff against him as he pushes Ryoma flat against the wall as if to drive him through it.

"At least I make up for other things," Ryoma says, after they part, trying to regain his breath. Keigo's cheeks are flushed. "You look like a girl."

Keigo rolls his eyes at that but that doesn't make his grip slacken. If anything, his strokes are becoming faster, rougher. Ryoma thinks now would be a good time to arch off, but Keigo is determined to make him suffocate, because he kisses him again and again, all in rapid succession.

"—athe, asshole. Can't breathe," Ryoma snaps, haltingly, breathily, as Keigo just smirks and ignores him. Ryoma nips his tongue sharply in annoyance, but his head is getting dizzier and lighter.

From the way Keigo is rubbing intensely, it looks like he's off on edge too. Ryoma stops teasing him and goes under Keigo's own trousers (who brings trousers in a training camp, Ryoma thinks distastefully) and despite the small space they allow between them, he manages to do something with his hand that makes Keigo break his kiss and hiss loudly.


Ryoma smirks. "Not so loud," he says sweetly, but he's out of breath and mind to think up of something smarter. Keigo doesn't seem to care about his lack of wit this time; his eyes are full of stormy dark lust like when he's high, and so he grips Ryoma's waist roughly with one hand, tracing his ribs. The other is still down there. Ryoma lets his tongue run slowly over his lower lip, and Keigo's eyes grow darker. His pupils dilute. But he doesn't do anything further.

"Unlike you, I really don't like public groping," Keigo purrs teasingly, dangerously, "So I suggest you find your way into my room after this."

And with that, he suddenly lets go, and after dignifying himself in a matter of moments, pulling his trousers up and leaves Ryoma dazed and gaping and half-naked. Ryoma stares after him.

"Bastard," he says, with more feeling this time.

Ryoma doesn't go to Keigo's room. Instead he tells Momoshiro sulkily that he was going to use the bathroom for thirty minutes and he was not to disturb, ever. And plug in those earphones, Momo-senpai. Momoshiro looks puzzled but do as he is told. He's too tired to argue with his underclassman anyways.

Ryoma shuts himself up in the bathroom and locks the door. He leans against it and cursing Keigo, he lets his hands do the work for him and soon enough his shorts become sticky.

"Fuck," Ryoma says, because he's not that much of a romantic.

Keigo's smirk is sharp and dangerous the next day. Ryoma is pretty sure that Keigo is directing eye burns at him behind his neck, so he does his best to avoid Keigo's smothering glare.

"Koshimae," Kintarou whispers a bit nervously, tugging at Ryoma's elbow, "That Hyotei leader's looking at you kinda funny, Koshimae." So even his (neverending, annoying, fruitless, clueless, sexless) rival noticed, great. The entire high school circuit knows we're fucking behind closed walls. Ryoma sighs and rubs his eyes. He's tired and cranky. Recalling his dreams last night doesn't do anything to help.

He forgot that a horny Keigo meant a dangerous one.

"Yesterday," is all Ryoma hears before he's shoved against the brick wall outside the lodgings. Keigo's eyes glitter and his lips look hungry. I was proving a point, Ryoma wants to say smugly, but he doesn't have time to react before Keigo thrusts his hand inside Ryoma's shirt and another unbuckling his jeans in a smooth motion. His lips crash against his in the most hurried moment ever. Ryoma gaps at the speed. "Wait, here?" he says indignantly, as Keigo releases his mouth and attaches his lips to Ryoma's neck instead and sucks.

"Well, you were so insistent on everyone seeing you like this—" Keigo says with a honeyed tone, his smirk betraying his intentions, "—and here I am, indulging you yet again."

"That room I dragged you into was emptied," Ryoma snaps, but soon groans as Keigo latches onto his neck again and sucks harder in reply. His skin tingles, there is bound to be a mark now. "You are such a fucking asshole," he says, and remembers. "There, that colorful language satisfactory to your majesty?"

"No, just more barbaric," Keigo murmurs, and his voice send vibrations inside his skin. Shit. He wants to do it, but he prefers it in a bed lying down and not really doing any work. Here he would have to grip Keigo and hang on, not to mention the bricks would scratch his skin red.

"Wait," Ryoma tries, and scowls as Keigo ignores him. He pinches Keigo's side, hard.

"Ouch!" Keigo immediately releases his hold on him, for a minute his dignity and desires forgotten. "What's wrong with you?" This time it's Ryoma that hastens to compose himself, and grabs a pissed Keigo by the hand. "You. Dorm. Now," he says in a sultry tone that he knows Keigo can't refuse (works every time). He doesn't; Keigo's eyes narrow but follows willingly.

And if anyone saw them passing by and holding hands, well fuck them.

After a satisfying hour (or two, they forgot to check the time when they crashed in the door), Ryoma observes, "I think we missed the evening drills."

"Very clever of you to notice that now," Keigo comments wryly, turning to face him. His hair is all mussed up, and Ryoma grins as he reaches over to mess it up even more. Keigo makes a face but doesn't complain. "And I thought that was your subplan for dragging me indoors, too. Good to know you're not that smart."

"I like it better when you're sexually frustrated and can't speak properly," Ryoma shoots back, tangling his fingers into Keigo's brown locks. Keigo begins to trace a finger down Ryoma's side lazily.

"We can't all have what we want," Keigo says, and kisses Ryoma, gentle and chaste. Ryoma bites back.

"Echizen." Tezuka stands in front of his room, his arms folded and his back blocking the entrance to his door. Ryoma doesn't gulp but he does shift his eyes and focuses on the wrinkle between Tezuka's eyes. "It's after midnight."

"Buchou," Ryoma returns, hoping it sounded calm, but mostly it comes out sheepish.

Tezuka raises his eyebrows. "You missed the evening matches," he points out, and it doesn't sound as nearly as funny when he heard the same thing from Keigo, "And you weren't in your room." Ryoma is rakes his brain for a plausible excuse that wouldn't involve charity help, like a pregnant women (that didn't work the last time, either). Tezuka then sees the burning mark on his neck. Ryoma feels Tezuka's brown eyes zooming towards the red bruise, an Ryoma silently curses Keigo seven times in hell.

Tezuka opens his mouth, but no words seem to come out. He tries to compose himself.

Just then Keigo scaunters over, his feet padding softly across the hallway. "There you are, Tezuka," he says, "I was looking for you. Our coaches want us to plan for tomorrow's ranking matches." He says all of this in a smooth, suggestive way. Never once does he look at Ryoma, his eyes focused on Tezuka instead. Ryoma suppresses a frown.

"Ah." Tezuka soon recovers and eases off his door. Yes, sanctuary, Ryoma thinks (a bit too early). "Fifty laps tomorrow before drills," he tells Ryoma sternly and he is soon gone, Keigo not looking back even once. That isn't even the bigger problem now; Ryoma narrows his eyes as stares at Tezuka's back. He creeps into his room (Momoshiro is asleep) and rummages for his phone. He turns it on and texts Keigo.

You better do something about those laps Monkey King. I'm serious.

His screen blinks almost immediately.

Seeing as you aren't in a very favorable position to be making demand with your manners, I would say no.

Ryoma scowls.

50 laps mean two hours of sleep deprivation.

Yes, I know, Echizen. I happen to be a captain.


Do you really expect me to win over Tezuka? You've become naïve.

Use your moves.

What moves?

Moves moves.

He could almost see Keigo rolling his eyes at his choices of words.

And you call yourself my boyfriend.

No, I call you my savior. He almost adds in a smiley face for effect. But he doesn't think Keigo is urbane enough to get the sarcasm. He waits for a reply and gets none. He digs under his covers and decided if he does run laps tomorrow he could just ignore Keigo for the rest of the day.

Keigo was right after all, he has become spoiled.

Tezuka doesn't comment on his failure to run laps the next day. He also can't look at Ryoma without his ears turning red. Keigo's knowing smirk is not helping and Ryoma almost regrets his bid for help.

"What did you tell Tezuka-buchou?" Ryoma asks under his breath while they were getting the food trays. He pretends to look occupied while Keigo feigns disinterest.

"Hm? Merely that I was recruiting you to Hyotei," Keigo says nonchalantly, and ignores the horrified glare Ryoma throws at him. "One of my most creative moments I daresay."

"I'm not calling you captain," Ryoma says, appalled.

Keigo shoots him a small smirk, one that promised of dangers and dirty things to come. "Oh I don't know," he drawls quietly, all suggestive tones of seduction, "I could think of a few things to try with that title."

He leaves, Ryoma staring in his wake.

Ryoma scowls as Keigo sits across from him at dinner, completely ignoring him in favor of Fuji. He knows for a fact that Keigo doesn't give a fuck about cactuses, and he's pretty sure Fuji's smart enough to know too, so he doesn't know why he indulges. He shoves rice into his mouth and texts with his other (hidden) hand, Stop legging me while flirting about shitty plants.

Keigo's phone beeps a second later and Keigo looks at it. He doesn't smirk but Ryoma knows him enough by now to see a hidden mask of amusement (horrors).

Fuji smiles brightly at them. "Well, well," he says pleasantly, "It's nice to know you two are smitten with one other."

Ryoma chokes and even Keigo gives Fuji a sidelong glance. "Hmm," he manages.

"He knows?" Ryoma hisses as soon as Keigo's private room is closed and they have some semblance of privacy, "You better have some genius plan for this, because if Fuji-senpai knows—"

"I'm sure he'll use it for his own advantages and schemes," Keigo says, rolling his eyes, "Honestly, you don't give your own teammates enough credit. He does care about you."

Ryoma's about to report, but a text message stops him.

FW: To Seigaku Regulars

our little rookie all grown up! I would smother you with kisses but Atobe's taken that place, yes? 3


Ryoma shows the message to Keigo. Keigo stares at the screen for a good five seconds before he swears.

"He does what about me?" Ryoma says, and he can't help laughing as Keigo shoots him a dirty look.

"Now your whole team knows," Keigo mourns, hand rubbing over his eyes. "That's…that's mendable."

"Kikumaru-senpai knows," Ryoma points out and Keigo freezes as the direness of the situation falls upon him.

"Great," he says flatly, "We should announce the happy engagement as it is."

"Or," Ryoma says, gesturing towards the locked door, "We could hide out and try to survive the night."

"And from your teammates," Keigo says, and pins him with a look, "Don't think I'm facing your damned teammates alone."

"Yes you are," Ryoma drawls out, "I faced yours alone, remember?"

"With bloody tennis matches."

"And won them all." Ryoma shoots him a smirk. "You're getting emotional, you talk in bloody British when you get emotions. Do you want tea, dear?"

Keigo groans.

There's pounding the next morning. Keigo is glad they're still fully clothed.

"Ryoma," he says and pokes him. When that doesn't work (which Keigo knew it wouldn't), he slaps his buttocks because desperate times calls for desperate measures.

"Pervert!" Ryoma yelps in an undignified manner, glaring with half-sleepy and half-modified eyes as he instinctively grabs his pillow and smacks his side. Keigo dodges.

"Oh good," he remarks dryly, "Spanking isn't one of your kinks."

Ryoma growls.

The knocking stops for a full minute, and Keigo suddenly realizes that this wasn't the best days to experiment with ways to wake his boyfriend up.

"Occchiiiibbiiii!" A strangled noise comes from the other side of the door. "Ochibi!Is Atobe molesting you? Occhiiibiiii!"

Keigo slowly turns to the door and back to Ryoma. Ryoma's glare has worn off and now is wearing a calculated look. It doesn't suit him at all.

"Oh, look," Ryoma says innocently, "You have guests."

Keigo narrows his eyes. "You won't," he says, "You wouldn't dare leave me alone with your hyper teammates."

"Is that a challenge?" Ryoma mocks, his eyes glittering, "How exciting."

"You owe me," he says pleasantly through gritted teeth, "Tezuka, remember?"

"By fantasizing me into a Hyotei uniform," Ryoma deadpans. "Again, pervert."

Keigo sighs. "Echizen, love," he says, carefully emphasizing the surname, "There's a wonderful sushi place that just opened up in Ginza. The view's simply breathtaking."

Ryoma cocks his head, pretending to think it over. "Three course meals?" he asks.

Keigo narrows his eyes. "Two," he says, and Ryoma tsks.

"Not really in the position to bargain, sweetheart," he says, slowly drawing out his glee. Keigo glares at him and Ryoma just stares back evenly.

"Your love for me is smothering," Keigo snaps, waving his hands; Ryoma cracks into a full-fledged smirk, "Fine, you utter brat, go ahead and rob away my credit cards."

Ryoma blows him a kiss as he walks over to open the door.

Keigo doesn't really expect the Inquisition to go this way. In retrospect, he should have demanded a tennis match like Ryoma had. He won Tezuka before, he could do it again.

"He's molesting you," Kikumaru inquires with wide eyes, and shoot Keigo a dirty look; Keigo just masks on his boredom. Obviously, with the Seigaku regulars, logic falls dead flat in their heels.

"He's not," Ryoma says, and Keigo has to admire how uninterested he sounds at the subject of his own sex life, "I'm molesting him."

Keigo tilts his head towards the ceiling and wonders what the hell he did wrong to fall for a snarky sadist.

"But, but," Momoshiro is now trading glances with Kaidou; Kaidou is just looking down at the floor and turning red (good, Keigo approves of that), "So, all the times you two were in our room, you were—" he gestures wildly between Keigo and Ryoma as if his hand signals would mean anything. Keigo can't help but roll his eyes.

"Yes Momoshiro, engaging in amorous pleasures," he drawls out.

Momoshiro squints in confusion. "Huh?"

"He means that we were fucking like rabbits," Ryoma deadpans, and Keigo kicks him hard for that.

Momoshiro turns a beet red and sputters.

"Echizen." This time it's Tezuka who looks pained, and he looks gangly and awkward enough as it is, squished between his idiotic regulars. Keigo almost feels sorry for him.

"Sorry, captain," Ryoma mumbles, looking abashed, and Keigo wonders how in the world Tezuka could manage that (half-admiration, half-jealousy), and Ryoma hastily adds, "It's not going to interfere with the matches."

"Of course not," Keigo affirms, "If anything, the boy's easier to beat now."

Ryoma scowls and carefully steps on Keigo's foot, pressing hard. Keigo suppresses a wince and smiles thinly instead.

"Look at you two, playing footsy!" Fuji says sweetly, "Aren't they just precious, Tezuka?"

Ryoma and Keigo both glare at him.

"Two," Keigo says wearily, after Oishi dragged away a yelping Kikumaru by his heels ("Ochibi! Tell me your virginity is still intact!"), "Two course meals, and that's me being generous. You weren't helping."

"I remember you smirking when Mukahi-san was throttling me," Ryoma points out, "Smart that I played him."

"Mukahi's not Kikumaru."

"Point," Ryoma says, "because Mukahi-san's weirder."

Keigo opens his mouth to protest both Ryoma's hands tug him towards the bed and drags him down.

"Daytime," he points out, as Ryoma straddles him, "And I can't believe I'm the one to say that."

Ryoma smirks. "And I'm the one to ignore it," he says, and pushes Keigo to lie down on the mattress, "Isn't this nice?"

"New," Keigo concedes, "Is this about the part you molesting me?"

"Mmm," Ryoma leans down to brush his forehead against his own, eyes mischievous and glinting, "Three. One as soon as we get back to Tokyo."

"How arousing," Keigo says dryly, "We're about to kiss and you just have to insert your food fetishes, don't you." And he shuts up Ryoma's requests by kissing him first.

Ryoma's laugh against his mouth is just another added bonus.

One of the reasons why I love Atoryo so much is that they could banter all they want and still be angsty and fucked up or they could be honey sweet.

Reviews are appreciated and loved! :D