Three-hundred Thread Count

By Mura | www

It was the first morning of the Junior Selection Tennis Camp, and a tall, dark haired young man stifled a yawn as he joined his friend for breakfast.

"How's your roommate, Genichirou?" Renji asked as they waited in line.

"Insufferable." Sanada's voice was even more clipped than usual. The irritation was evident to anyone that knew him as well as Renji.

Sanada Genichirou. Yanagi Renji. Rikkai Dai Fuzoku. The two boys drew awed attention as they made their way through the mess hall and found a free table.

They weren't the only ones being stared at and pointed out. On the other side of the room sat a flamboyant young man with a small mole under his right eye, visibly basking in the attention he received. His name was Atobe Keigo.

Sanada refused to look in his direction.

"Oh?" Renji's voice was as mild as ever. Sanada gave him a sharp look; wondering just what Renji found so amusing.

"He spent most of the time ignoring me, no, SULKING as he ignored me. Then when he finally spoke, he did nothing but bitch until he went to sleep."

'Well, you know Hyoutei is quite ritzy. And Atobe's family is supposed to be very well off ."

"Apparently, the accommodations are not to his liking. The mattress is too lumpy to sleep on. The sheets are scratchy." Sanada's tone was growing more exasperated with each sentence.

"Not 300 thread count, are they?"

Sanada stared at Renji. "That is exactly what he said, whatever THAT means. And it doesn't end there. Apparently I'm more offensive than the room. Apparently, I snore. Apparently, he's going to have dark circles under his eyes before the week is out."

Renji laughed. Sanada glared.

"Well, look at it this way. That which does not kill us makes us stronger. Consider it... training."

Sanada chose to start on his food instead of answering.

"...And you WERE very curious about Atobe after your one match against him. Now you get to have your questions answered."

"I'm ecstatic."

But, he had been. More than curious in fact. The match had been that memorable. They had played singles at the Kantou finals. Atobe's tenacity and drive had impressed him, however; and the memory of his intense blue eyes staring unblinking across the court had haunted Sanada for months.

Whenever he'd asked, he'd been told Atobe Keigo was a spoiled, conceited rich brat. Sanada had believed, because of what he'd seen, that there was more to Atobe than that.

After the previous night, he was seriously questioning that belief.



It didn't get any easier for Sanada over the next couple of nights. Atobe had made some phone calls, which resulted in a hulking, silent Hyoutei first year showing up for the express purpose of bringing Atobe more appropriate bed sheets. They looked like silk to Sanada. The first year had also brought... a nebulizer. That hummed. Sanada had kept quiet, assuming his room mate would turn it off when he went to sleep. When it became apparent that he had no intention of doing so, Sanada had asked him if he minded it being turned off. Atobe hadn't deigned to reply with more than an incredulous, scornful look. Sanada had chosen to try and ignore it rather than make an issue about it.

He had goten very little sleep that night.

He had also found out that Atobe talked in his sleep. Mumbled, really. He would, of course, bring up the fact the next time Atobe complained about him snoring. Although if he was honest with himself, Sanada would have had to admit that it really wasn't that annoying. In fact, there had been a point during the night when he'd happened to look over to see Atobe sleeping on his side, a smug little smile on his lips as he mumbled something unintelligible. He'd actually looked cute.

Not that the memory had survived the next day.

Atobe accused him of touching his special soap and shampoo. He'd told Sanada in no uncertain terms that he found Sanada's ever-present baseball cap to be a deep affront to his sense of style. Then he'd proceeded to glance at the cover of the book Sanada was reading and disdainfully ask why he was bothering to read that "drivel". Sanada had asked what HE was reading... and Atobe had pulled out a battered copy of Plato's Symposium. In the original greek.

All in all, it wasn't looking to be the best week of Sanada Genichirou's life.

He had no idea what else was in store for him.

The tension between them continued to build until things finally came to a head on the evening of the fourth day. For one reason or another, Sanada had tried to talk to Atobe about tennis. In fact, he'd wanted to bring up their match at the Kantou finals. If Sanada had thought he was difficult before, it was nothing to the attitude that Atobe adopted at the first mention of it. After Sanada called him on the attitude and said it made having to share a room with Atobe an absolute nightmare, it had quickly escalated into a screaming argument about their various gripes with each other's habits.

And then Sanada lost his temper. Atobe was bitching about Sanada leaving his "soaking, dripping" towel where it trailed water on the floor, and how absolutely unbearable it was for Atobe to have to share a room with a pig like him. His face had been inches from Sanada and he was waving his finger in Sanada's face.

Sanada had shoved him. Against a wall.

And Atobe had stared at him incredulously, pale cheeks flushed. It was almost the same intense, blue-eyed gaze that Sanada remembered from their match so many months ago. Except this time, those eyes were flashing in anger.

"Did you just... shove... me?!" Atobe voice was dangerously, unusually quiet "No one, in my entire life, has ever dared--"

And then Sanada was kissing him.

He couldn't really have explained it, had he been asked why he did it. It had been an impulse, something so strong that he just had to press his lips against Atobe's and push his tongue inside while he grabbed the slightly shorter boy around the waist and pulled their bodies flush against each other. Atobe made indignant sounds of protest and attempted to push Sanada away, but he was pinned between the other's body and the wall and he didn't really have a lot of room to move and knee Sanada in the crotch as he most likely would have done otherwise.

When Sanada finally pulled himself away from Atobe's enticingly warm mouth, those sparkling blue eyes still fastened once again on his. Except that in addition to incredulous and furious, Atobe's eyes were... dazed.

And Atobe's arms had somehow wound up wrapped around Sanada's neck when neither of them noticed.

Sanada looked away first, and when he spoke his voice was gruffer than he expected it to be.

"I like you a lot more when you just shut the fuck up."

Predictably, Atobe slapped him across the mouth.


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