title: E Kimochi
fandom: Prince of Tennis
characters/pairings: Atobe/Tezuka
rating: G
warnings: glitter
summary: Atobe needs help.
notes: for moffit, on fic on demand. >_> moff is evil. this is clearly established. and i've had an hours sleep, i think. obviously, no good can come of this.

He had been up for hours, just shortly after the sunrise. Morning was his favorite time of day, because it was quiet, as the rest of the day could never be. He had done some light calisthenics with his grandfather, and done some work in the garden, plus he had had breakfast with his parents, and it was still long before the hour in which he normally received calls.

The clang of his cell phone was a most unwelcome distraction, then, and even more unwelcome when he saw the caller id.

Fortifying himself, he opened his phone. "Tezuka."

"Mm, did I wake you up?" Atobe purred.

"Hardly," Tezuka returned blandly.

"Pity," Atobe sighed, his voice colored by the annoyance of this slight imperfection in his plan. "Would you like to know what you are doing today?"

It was such an Atobe way of phrasing things. "I already know what I'm doing today."

"You can't, I haven't told you yet. We're going to a youth center to help disadvantaged children," he said, somehow making it sound like a great honor.

Tezuka frowned. "I didn't realize Hyotei had a community service requirement for graduation."

"I don't really see what that has to do with anything," Atobe replied, coolly.

"I've already fulfilled Seigaku's requirement," Tezuka sighed inaudibly. "This is really something you need to do on your own."

"Now, it doesn't say anywhere in the rules that you can't..."

Tezuka closed his phone. He didn't actually have any definitive plans for the day, but that was no reason to give into Atobe.





There was no greater satisfaction than completing a task that had been put off for so long. Fuji had given him several photo albums, and he was finally organizing all of his photographs, chronologically, into the albums. They would store much more neatly than the shoeboxes he had been keeping on the bottom shelf of his bookcase.

He didn't want to look at his phone, even, but the overriding sense of responsibility that dictated his whole life demanded that he do so, and, having done so, deeply ingrained politeness forced him to answer.

"Tezuka."

"You really are missing a good time here."

Tezuka wrinkled his nose. It sounded like a circus. "Really. Am I."

"These children are quite adorable, Tezuka, and take to instruction very well. Listen." Atobe held the phone away from him, and called the children to gather around, before leading them in song. It would be cuter if it were not obvious that Atobe was holding the phone so that his own voice was the most prominent.

Tezuka contemplated hanging up, but it was sometimes better, in the long run, to appease Atobe, rather than aggravate him.

Finally, the song was done, and Atobe came back on the phone. "Doesn't that make you want to come by and play with us?"

"No," Teuzka answered quickly, and hung up.





He finished his weekly chores, so he allowed himself some time off. He had a few volumes of his favorite comics set aside, and he should have time to read them. His parents had gone out, and his grandfather had a few students over, so he should have privacy, which was better, given the content of the comics.

He really wished he had it in him to ignore the phone.

He didn't even get a chance to say anything as he answered.

"Get over here. Now."

"No," Tezuka sighed, trying to read and listen at the same time.

"It's craft time! They have glitter and feathers and glue!"

"That's not uncommon with children, is it?" Tezuka asked, noncommittally.

"Tezuka! There is finger paint on my shoe!"

"Well, I'm sure you were planning on a shopping excursion soon," Tezuka sighed, hoping that Atobe would be satisfied with just taking Kabaji, or one of his own teammates, to replace the offended shoes.

"That's not the point!" Atobe shrieked. "I need help! They are messy and prone to... cuddling!" he sneered.

Tezuka was very good at repressing humor. He was not as devoid of mirth as people thought. He was just a great deal trickier than people thought. "Well. This is your community service, isn't it?"

"Tezuka! I need help!" And he did truly sound desperate.

"It's rare for you to be so open. I'll give you some advice. Don't get careless."

"Tezuka!" Atobe growled, but Tezuka hung up before he could say anything more.





"Kunimitsu!"

"Yes?" He came to the head of the stairs as soon as he heard his mother call out.

She looked up at his with a somewhat troubled expression. "You have, erm, a friend here for you."

He came downstairs, somewhat baffled. He stopped on the last step.

His mother excused herself, looking anxiously at the... overly sparkling Atobe.

Atobe, for his part, was glaring at Tezuka, his arms crossed over his chest. "I have glitter in my hair, and it's your fault."

Tezuka bit the inside of his lip almost hard enough to make himself bleed. "Is it."

Atobe narrowed his eyes. "Of course it is."

Tezuka sighed, and turned around. "Be careful how you walk. Don't make a mess."

"What?" Atobe asked, snidely.

"Well," Tezuka turned to look at Atobe blankly. "If it's my fault, I should clean it up, right?"

He turned to head back up the stairs. He knew exactly what kind of smirk Atobe would be wearing, and just how quickly he would be following.

He would think of how to explain this to his parents later. This was too good an opportunity to pass up.








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