Summary: A very… special study of Inui's, based on just three pertinent questions, shows that Atobe and Ryoma are soulmates. Ryoma, who has nothing to do, tries verifying it (and giving his senpai a big shock at the same time).
Disclaimer: I don't PoT. I wish I did. Boo.
A/N: For Kentastic72! Happy anniversary! A year has passed since we became such awesome friends (but you had to remind me, which sucks, as I should've remembered it), so as a present (which is sort of compensation but nobody cares) here is this fic! A good, humorous fic, unlike the angst I've been pushing out for the past few fics. Enjoy! I love you~ Kenny I'm sorry if this seems short~
A/N pt 2: the piece of music mentioned here is "12 Variations on…" which is basically Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Why am I telling you this? Because if you haven't heard it, the play on AtoRyo's choices fails. [smile]
"Echizen, do you have a moment?"
Ryoma, who was on his way to the tennis club locker rooms to shower and change, turned around to see Inui holding a pen and a notebook. Sensing something ominous approaching, he immediately replied, "No, senpai, sorry," and resumed his walk… only to find Fuji blocking his way. "You should listen to what he has to say, o-chibi," Fuji said softly. On his face was the smile which Ryoma recognized as his I'll-make-you-beg-for-mercy-if-you-don't-comply smile. Damn it. "I just might have a few seconds, senpai," Ryoma amended his earlier words, almost sighing.
"Please answer this questionnaire that I give to you," Inui said, pulling out a sheet of paper from his notebook and handing it to Ryoma along with his pen. Ryoma went through the questionnaire, expecting questions on his style of tennis. But-he paused, glancing up and down the paper in shock-this was the exact opposite of what he'd prepared himself for. The questions, to him, were outrageous. What is your favorite color? Your most-preferred piece of music? The tennis player you admire most? What kind of questions was Inui-senpai giving him? And just three?
Okay. One question remotely related to tennis didn't make the entire questionnaire about the sport, and Ryoma really, really didn't want to answer it, but he did. He briefly wrote down purple, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and Buchou and handed the paper back to Inui-senpai, who thanked him and left. Fuji gave him his I-spare-you smile and left, too, leaving Ryoma to shower in peace.
The ominous gut feeling intensified, but he pushed it out of his mind.
It was common knowledge that Atobe Keigo was a fucking narcissist and went out of his way to prove himself so. He regularly gave interviews to those who asked, and when Inui showed up, asking him to fill out a questionnaire, who was he to say no?
It was odd, though, the list of questions. Only three. And all unrelated to each other. Ah, well. Atobe chose to look at it as conveying three aspects of his personality to the receiver. He wrote down lavender, 12 Variations on Ah vous dirai-je, Maman, and Tezuka Kunimitsu and gave it to Inui, who went through his answers and smiled (there was no other way to put it) eerily. "Thank you, Atobe-kun," Inui said, already turning to leave. Atobe called after him, "Be awed by my prowess," and resumed his daily routine.
"They gave the same answers. The exact same. Only Atobe's are somewhat more refined."
"How can they both like the same tune? And one as basic as this?"
"Mozart isn't basic."
"But Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is."
"These questions are basic personality defining questions. After a lot of research into personality quizzes, I ended up with these. The color question shows your average temperament. The music question shows your patience level and taste in culture. The role model question-well, I just wanted to know who they admired," Inui admitted, looking over the spreadsheet he had made on a school computer. Fuji, standing beside him, said, "So based on the matches you calculate their probability of being soulmates?"
"If you choose to put it like that, then yes."
"Why Atobe and Ryoma, of all people?"
"Their interactions one day struck me as odd, because Ryoma usually never talks properly to anybody except Momoshiro."
"They insulted each other the minute they saw the other."
"But that's a usual occurrence," Fuji noted. "They're always at war."
"But this time Atobe just smiled and walked away after his jibe." It was the first time Inui had seen such a smile on Atobe's face.
"So, what do your calculations show?" Fuji was curious to know, and he admitted it shamelessly.
"They... would complete each other as a couple. Complete and utter soulmates." Inui was gratified, in a sense. All his months of research condensed into three questions, and the rarest probability (the sure one) turning up in his maiden project. How admirable.
"I would've snooped if you hadn't, now that I think about it," Fuji conceded.
"I still need you to, Fuij," Inui said, giving Fuji a videocamera. "Will you do this for me? Will you give me more data on them?"
Fuji contemplated the pros and cons of stalking Ryoma and Atobe. "What will I get in return for doing this?"
"Tezuka Kunimitsu. Storage room closet, six hours."
They shook hands.
A boy wearing a white cap was standing outside the computer lab, in shock.
Before long, he quickly recovered, and smirked. They thought he and that Monkey King had the potential to be each other's perfectly-fitting, missing puzzle piece.
Okay. Everybody's going on vacation soon, so I'll have lots of free time to fuck with senpai-tachi's heads. Mada mada dane, Fuji-senpai, Inui-senpai. I'm going to verify your outcome in just one step.
Ryoma gripped his racket tightly, staring across the street court at Atobe, who lazily tossed the ball into the air and served. Ryoma returned it, trying not to show that he'd not been paying attention to the ball. Atobe called him out on it, though. "Ore-sama's face might be so beautiful as to draw your attention away from our match, but he requests you to provide at least some amusement to him."
"Fucker," Ryoma swore under his breath. Who did he think he was? Some god?
He decided to ignore the comment about Atobe's beautiful face, because Fuji was surreptitiously stealing glances at their match (pretending to polish his camera lens-at a fucking tennis court), and he was within earshot.
The match drew on and on, neither Atobe nor Ryoma giving up points without gaining them back, and in the end, Atobe won by a close margin.
Panting, Keigo looked over at Ryoma with a slight smile. "More amusement than what I'd asked for, brat," he commented. "Shut up, Monkey King," Ryoma replied, gasping for breath too. They straightened up and approached the net to shake hands, and Ryoma noted the fact that Fuji had some company with him-Inui-senpai. It was time to play the Mindfuck Game (where he would fell his opponents in one blow).
Atobe extended a hand to Ryoma, as if conferring some great honor upon the boy. Ryoma took the hand-and pulled Atobe down to his level, cupping his face and kissing him hard and soft and warm and wet, closing his eyes at the contact.
Atobe, on his part, responded admirably, pulling Ryoma close until clothes and the net were all that parted them. They didn't care who saw. They didn't care about anything except the other.
Inui and Fuji were frozen. They couldn't move for the shock which had coursed through them the moment Ryoma had done the unexpected.
"Ne, Inui," Fuji said, looking at Inui's notebook. "Did you factor in the fact that they might already have been a couple before you asked your questions?"
Inui took a long time to reply, and when he did, he answered in the negative. He was even more shocked than Fuji was; he could see pieces of his research falling to Earth around him. His notebook fell to the ground.
Damn it. Damn it all to hell.
"What the hell was that, Ryoma?" Atobe asked, as they pulled apart, heaving as hard as they had been after the match. It was the first time in their six-month old relationship that Ryoma had managed to surprise Keigo.
"Nothing," Ryoma answered evasively, skirting the question. He knew Atobe would ask him again, later, and he planned on giving a full explanation... but now, all he could concentrate on was the fact that Atobe's lips were entirely too kissable at that moment.
"Mada mada dane, Ryoma," Atobe mumbled Ryoma's catchphrase back at him, pulling him in again, smiling.
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