Chapter 7

"Shishido-saaan..." Ignoring - or possibly oblivious to - the warning tone in his partner's voice, Shishido somehow managed to hover closer. Ohtori bit back a sigh, and by some miracle kept himself from looking either irritated or frustrated. Or homicidal, for that matter.

"Did you need something, Choutarou?" the over-anxious senior asked. Wordlessly Ohtori shook his head, trying to find a good way out of this situation.

Who'd have ever thought he'd be dying to spend less time in Shishido's presence? Usually he grabbed any chance to be around his partner. But for the last three days, Shishido - with Mukahi's help - had been driving Ohtori slowly insane.

If anyone had told him a week ago that Shishido Ryou would turn out to be a mother hen, he'd have laughed in their face. It wasn't that he wasn't flattered by his senpai's unwavering attention. He was just starting to feel hopelessly suffocated.

No matter how many times he told Shishido that he was fine, or assured Mukahi that he didn't blame the redhead for what had happened, they just refused to leave him alone. In fact, they'd almost come to blows a few times over which of them would be allowed to fetch Ohtori the extra pillow or glass of water he hadn't asked for.

Oshitari had apparently taken pity on the junior, and finally dragged Mukahi forcibly outside to spend the day on the slopes. Unfortunately, the only person who had that kind of influence over Shishido was Ohtori himself, and nothing he said seemed to be getting through to his partner.

Finally, in utter desperation, he plastered on the most pleading expression he could conjure up, and looked up at Shishido with wide eyes. "Please, Shishido-san," he said softly, making Shishido lean a little closer to hear him.

Eager to do anything Ohtori asked of him - except go away, apparently - Shishido's eyes widened slightly as he nodded. "What is it, Choutarou?"

Taking a deep breath, Ohtori let his voice waver ever so slightly. "I feel so bad, keeping you trapped inside here with me," he said, guilt and regret seeping into his tone as if he were trying to keep them out and failing. "You might never get another chance like this, to ski in the Swiss Alps. I know you were so excited by it. Please don't let me keep you from it, Shishido-san."

When he saw that Shishido was hovering, torn between the desire to go out and enjoy himself and the overwhelming need to see to his partner, Ohtori pulled out his trump card. "I'd never be able to forgive myself for making you miss this opportunity, Shishido-san," he said plaintively. "I just can't stand the thought. Won't you please at least go spend a few hours outside?"

Unable to resist the pleading look in Ohtori's wide brown eyes any longer, Shishido caved. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" he asked, still fighting the idea of going. Ohtori nodded solemnly, lifting his hands and wiggling the fingers a bit to demonstrate that he was actually capable of taking care of his own needs. His hands were still painfully stiff, but they worked again, and the doctors seemed pleased by his progress, even going so far as to predict that he'd be well enough to hit the slopes again by the last day or two.

Ohtori wasn't so certain he wanted to do any such thing, but that was beside the point. The movement served to get his point across for the moment, and that was all he needed. Reluctantly, checking with Ohtori every few minutes to make sure the younger boy hadn't changed his mind, Shishido gathered his gear and finally made his way out the door.

Holding his breath, Ohtori counted the seconds after the door had closed. Shishido would be walking down the hall... waiting for the elevator... stepping inside, holding the doors open for a long moment while he listened to make sure Ohtori wasn't calling for him...

Finally he felt safe enough to let the breath out in an explosive sigh, slumping into the couch in sheer relief. "Thank the gods!" he muttered, drawing a hand over his eyes. "I thought I'd never be rid of him!"

Slow, almost sardonic clapping from behind him startled him; the only other person still in the suite was Atobe, and he'd thought their captain had been sleeping.

Leaning against his doorway, crutches propped under his arms, Atobe grinned and continued clapping as Ohtori turned to regard him with wide eyes. "Masterfully done," he complimented his kouhai, eyes sparkling with wicked humour. "I haven't seen a performance that good in quite some time. You should think about pursuing a career in acting, perhaps."

Blushing at having been caught out, Ohtori shook his head. "It was sheer desperation, nothing more," he said wryly. "If I hadn't gotten rid of him, I'd have started yelling or done something else to damage our friendship." He cocked his head at the couch across from the one he was sitting on, a tacit invitation for Atobe to join him.

Gripping his crutches, Atobe swung himself forward. He was moving more easily now; the pain in his leg had faded to a constant but dull ache, and he'd learned some grace with the Damn Crutches, as he'd come to think of them. He was bound and determined to buy something with a little more elegance than these awful wooden crutches the moment he got home, but for now he was forced to make do.

Hesitating briefly, he finally seated himself on the opposite end of the couch Ohtori was occupying. It's just easier than trying to maneuver around the damn table and the mess the others have left behind, he told himself loftily, eyeing the scattered books and movie cases with disdain. Honestly, some of their teammates were such slobs. There's enough room here for both of us.

He'd been avoiding Ohtori since the doctors had released them both and allowed them to return to their room. It was something he wasn't really conscious of doing deliberately, but it had seemed like the best plan at the time. He was quite certain that, exposed once more to his beloved Shishido-san, Ohtori would shake off whatever odd fixation he'd been starting to form on Atobe.

Except that Shishido had proceeded to make an utter nuisance of himself, hovering like he had. Atobe was frankly amazed that even Ohtori hadn't lost his grip on his patience days ago. He had been tempted to order Shishido and Mukahi out of the suite on several occasions, he couldn't imagine how Ohtori had stood it.

Ohtori hadn't missed the fact that their captain was avoiding him, and he'd been starting to worry that he'd offended the older boy after all. He had been awfully forward, and it was possible - likely, even - that the gentle snub was Atobe's way of telling him the interest wasn't returned. He was therefore both startled and gratified when Atobe chose to sit next to him instead of across from him.

Determined not to screw up this time, Ohtori resolved not to even mention the whole situation unless Atobe brought it up. "How's your leg?" he asked instead, in genuine concern. "How long until you get the cast off, do you know?"

"Six weeks," Atobe said, propping the cast up onto the table. He found the leg hurt less if he kept it raised, since the blood didn't pool in his foot. "I'll get a second opinion from my family's physician when we get back, of course, but I believe that's fairly standard for broken bones. It was a clean break, so there shouldn't be any trouble with it healing." He made a face. "I'll likely have to stay off it for a while, carefully build it back up, or risk having a weakness in tennis. But that's what physical therapists are for." Maybe money couldn't buy everything, but Atobe was certainly grateful for his family's wealth and connections in situations like this. He'd be getting the best care money could buy, and that was saying something.

"I'm glad it was a clean break," Ohtori said, trying not to feel guilty again. He knew Atobe would just lecture him if he tried to apologize. He shifted, trying to find something else to talk about. "My hands are doing much better," he offered, flexing them to show Atobe the improvement. "I won't be playing concertos any time this week, but at least I can feed myself now!"

Stifling an inappropriate snicker at the memory of what poor Ohtori had been subjected to on his first day back in the suite, Atobe smiled at him. "That's good to hear," he said warmly. And it was; the lingering fear of damage to Ohtori's hands had been keeping him awake at night. He could only imagine how frightened Ohtori must have been of the possibility. "Are you planning to try skiing again before we leave?"

"Maybe," Ohtori said uncomfortably. "I might let Shishido-san coax me out on the last day or so." He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "I know I need to do it now, or I'll be afraid of it for the rest of my life. That doesn't mean I have to like the idea."

"You'll be fine," Atobe said confidently. "It's not as if they're going to take you up to the diamond slopes. I'll be surprised if your mother hen allows you off the bunny slopes, let alone the greens."

Laughing, Ohtori had to concede that point. "So how have you been keeping yourself entertained?" he asked, curious. He himself was dying of boredom - all the shows and movies on TV were in English or other foreign languages, as were all the books in the stores nearby. He couldn't even write or doodle, because his hands were still too stiff to hold a pen properly. "And where's your shadow, anyway?" Kabaji hadn't been nealy as intrusive as Shishido and Mukahi, but he'd been hovering over Atobe solicitously, waiting to perform any service needed of him.

"I sent Kabaji out with the others," Atobe said, shrugging. "Contrary to popular belief I am capable of operating without him nearby. There was so sense in completely spoiling his vacation as well. And I brought a few books with me from home, for the evenings. I've gone through them all now. I'm almost reduced to going downstairs and picking up some of the English drivel they're selling down in the shops - almost, but not quite." He made a disgusted face. Dime romance novels were really not his thing, and he'd die before he let any of the rest of the team catch him reading the horrid things... but it really was starting to get boring.

"Do you mind if I watch TV?" he asked, hoping to stave off the boredom that way. He at least spoke English well enough to follow along, and it was something to occupy his time. Glancing around for the remote, he frowned when he couldn't find it. Remembering that Ohtori was not as fluent as he was, he graciously offered, "You may borrow my books if you like. I don't know if they'll be to your taste or not."

"Atobe-senpai, at this point I'd be willing to try to slog through the 'Tale of Genji' in the original classical Japanese, just for something to do," Ohtori informed him dryly. "Thank you. And of course I don't mind if you watch TV."

"They're on my dresser," Atobe said, gesturing towards his room. Where was that damn piece of equipment? Honestly, if belief in animism weren't beneath him, he'd be quite convinced that remote controls had some hidden ability to animate and walk off.

Ohtori nodded and stood, stretching carefully. Seeing that Atobe was growing a little frustrated in his search, he grinned and leaned over the couch next to the older boy, digging between the couch cushions. "I think I saw Jirou-senpai drop it somewhere around here when he fell asleep last night," he said, even as his fingers closed awkwardly around the piece of plastic. "Here it is!"

Tugging it out, it caught briefly on the zipper of the couch cushion. He pulled harder and it released abruptly, sending his hand flying. He wound up brushing the back of his fingers against the juncture of Atobe's thigh and hip, and he blushed as he dropped the remote on the older boy's lap and straightened hastily. "There you go," he said, trying not to appear as though he were fleeing into Atobe's room.

Atobe had already caught his breath at the closeness of the other boy when Ohtori leaned over him, so thankfully he wasn't betrayed by his breathing at that fleeting, far too intimate touch. He didn't let himself breathe again until Ohtori was safely out of sight in his room.

He is not for you, he scolded himself for what felt like the hundredth time since they'd first gotten stuck out on the mountain. It was getting harder and harder to remember that, though. Really, where had this sudden altruistic streak of his come from, anyway? Oh, right... he was above stealing someone else's boyfriend. Even if said someone wasn't technically the other person's boyfriend as yet.

This whole situation was getting ridiculously out of hand, though. He'd be glad when they got back to school, and things went back to the normal schedule, where he and Ohtori saw each other only at tennis practice. And possibly not much even then, considering this damn broken leg. Not that Atobe intended to abandon the club, but he was rather forcibly benched by this injury.

Determined to forget the whole thing, Atobe turned his attention to the screen, and absorbed himself in the movie. Somewhat to his surprise, Ohtori returned and settled back into the other side of the couch a few moments later, one of Atobe's books in his lap. Atobe had half expected him to retreat to his room, or at least to sit on the other couch. It's not relevant to anything, he reminded himself, and turned his attention back to the TV.

Ohtori sat staring at the first page of the novel, but the symbols refused to translate themselves to words in his mind. He was lost in thought in moments, his mind entirely occupied with the odd mess of emotions he seemed to have gotten himself into.

Where had this sudden, uncontrollable attraction to Atobe come from, anyway? It wasn't as if that accidental brush was the first time improper thoughts had entered Ohtori's mind since the night in the infirmary, either. A warm blush crept over his cheeks as he tried not to think about the dream he'd woken from last night, which had been entirely too improper and very much centered on Atobe.

He'd had dreams like that before, a few times; usually they didn't involve anybody specific, once or twice they had starred Shishido. But this was definitely the first time he'd dreamed of Atobe... and the dream had been a lot more intense than usual, too. His blush increased a notch, and he shifted his book slightly. Hopefully Atobe wasn't paying any attention to him. He really should have gone back to his own room.

Except he was lonely, despite having Shishido and Mukahi constantly hovering. Or maybe even because of that. It was nice to just sit quietly by Atobe, in silent companionship. He'd never just sat with their captain before. Well, he'd never done a lot of things with their captain before, that he'd done on this trip. Which brought him right back where he started.

Why was he suddenly so obsessed with Atobe? Sure, the older boy was gorgeous and charismatic. But he'd always been those things. Privately, Ohtori had always thought Shishido was just a little bit prettier, anyway, though admittedly his personality was much rougher than Atobe's. But that had been part of what he loved about being with Shishido... the gentle side of his partner that he alone got to see.

And just that suddenly, Ohtori thought he knew what had changed about his feelings towards the older boy. Atobe strove to live up to his 'perfect' reputation, and damn near succeeded. He was... untouchable, like a perfect statue of priceless marble up on a pedestal, to borrow from cheesy metaphors. With Atobe involved, the description didn't seem so cheesy.

You respected someone like that, admired them, even. And many people became infatuated with that kind of perfection. But you couldn't truly come to love someone like that. There was no room for your own errors or inadequacies, and even if you could get their attention, you would forever feel unworthy. Moreover, when Atobe's flaws did show, they tended to the nasty side. The older boy was sometimes unbearably egotistic and arrogant, and very self-centered. Most of the world worshiped him, and Atobe's only question was why some people were still holding out.

On this trip, Ohtori had seen another side of their captain. The human side. The side that made mistakes, that trembled in pain or argued with you about whose fault a disaster was. The side that made him risk his life to save Ohtori, that made him give Ohtori his jacket and suffer the cold in silence; the side that made him hesitate and remind Ohtori of his other interests when Ohtori forgot himself.

"Ohtori."

That side, Ohtori could more than just respect. Underneath the mask of perfection and selfish arrogance, was someone Ohtori was very much attracted to. Someone he thought he might just be falling for.

"Ohtori."

But what about Shishido? Ohtori was quite certain he'd been developing a crush on his partner. Now instead of Shishido, it was Atobe he seemed to be tracking like a homing beacon any time they were in a room together. Was he really that fickle?

"Choutarou-kun!"

"Huh? What?" Snapped out of his reverie, Ohtori blinked and looked around, to find Atobe smirking at him in amusement. "I'm sorry, Atobe-senpai, did you say something to me?"

"Now I know the real reason Shishido always calls you by given name," Atobe chuckled, shaking his head. "It's the only thing that will draw your attention."

Blushing slightly, Ohtori shook his head and flipped the book over to rest upside down on his lap, open as if he didn't want to lose his place. Since he still hadn't read so much as the first sentence, he was in no danger of not being able to find his spot again, but Atobe didn't know that. And it hid the fact that his body had reacted in what was becoming a predictable fashion to thoughts of Atobe.

"I'm sorry, Atobe-senpai, I'm not usually this spacey," he said, a small smile on his lips at his own distraction. "It's just such a relief to finally have some quiet. I feel like I haven't been able to really think for days; either Shishido-san and Mukahi-senpai are hovering over me, or the painkiller sedatives the doctors gave me for the nights have knocked me out."

"Mm, I know what you mean," Atobe agreed with no little amusement. "At least I'm able to retreat to my room to avoid them. Frankly, I don't know how you've stood it this long." He cocked his head, his gray eyes burning with curiosity. "So what was it that you were taking the opportunity to think so very hard about?"

Ohtori felt his flush increase a notch, and he shook his head, unable to find words for a moment. He debated lying, saying he'd been worried about his hands or something else that would steer the conversation away from dangerous ground. It was his habit, what he always did when something uncomfortable came up; change the subject, distract the people around him, anything to smooth the situation over.

Watching with one eyebrow raised, Atobe directed his attention entirely away from the TV and onto his kouhai. Ohtori was clearly flustered about something. It really was an adorable expression on him. He had to resist the urge to smirk and do something undignified like ruffle the younger boy's hair. Or other things, things which were decidedly not a good idea. With an effort, he wrenched his thoughts once again off the track they'd been following.

This is silly, Ohtori chided himself, wishing for just a bit of that thoughtless courage - or perhaps the correct word would be 'insanity' - that had possessed him on the mountainside and again later, in the infirmary. It had been so easy then to just say what he was thinking, to invite Atobe to take liberties with him. Why was it so difficult now?

Because then I wasn't thinking, just reacting, he acknowledged ruefully to himself. And because I wasn't thinking, it was easy to ignore the little details like potential consequences. Damn it, he's only just opened up to me again, I don't want him to go back to ignoring me! But what if this is my only chance? I won't get rid of Shishido again any time soon...

That thought decided him, and Ohtori took a bracing breath. Atobe started to ask him if anything was wrong, when the junior shocked him once again by leaning abruptly forward and capturing Atobe's mouth with his own.

This was the first time Ohtori had physically initiated the contact between them. For all that it had been the younger boy's thoughtless words that had prompted their earlier encounters, Atobe had always made the first real move. His initial surprise kept Atobe from properly reacting for a heartbeat, long enough that Ohtori flushed deeply with true embarrassment and started to pull back to apologize.

Before he got far enough away to draw breath, however, Atobe had pursued him, closing the distance between them and ruthlessly devouring Ohtori's half-open mouth with his own. The hell with holding back, Atobe thought distantly as Ohtori made a surprised sound of his own and melted beneath him. He's had a chance to see Shishido again and get over any temporary attraction to me that was born only out of the situation we found ourselves in. If he's decided that I'm what he'd rather have, who can blame him?

Feeling a bit like he was drowning beneath the onslaught of Atobe's kiss, Ohtori clung weakly to the older boy's shoulders. His hands still didn't want to close completely, but it was enough to anchor him so he didn't drift away entirely. He opened his mouth further, allowing Atobe more access, which the older boy didn't hesitate to take advantage of. Tentatively Ohtori tried his own return exploration, and the gentle touch of his tongue to the roof of Atobe's mouth provoked an intriguing sound from the older boy's throat.

Atobe pushed slightly on his shoulders, and Ohtori fell back against the couch cushions, opening his throat to the older boy. Atobe pulled away from the kiss, but before Ohtori could think to protest the separation the senior had trailed his lips down over the strong column of Ohtori's neck, drawing a strangled moan from him.

It might have gone a good deal farther than that, two adolescent boys wrapped up in their own emerging hormones and the wonder of exploring another's body for the first time. For all that he'd gently condescended Ohtori's inexperience, Atobe hadn't gone much beyond a few uninspiring kisses with his fangirls either, and found himself helplessly entranced by the younger boy's innocent offering of himself.

He wasn't sure whether to curse or whisper a quick thank you to the gods, therefore, when the sounds of voices and footsteps in the hallway outside the door reached them. They both heard it at the same moment, and jerked apart hastily in an instinctive reaction. Atobe hissed softly in pain as the awkward movement made him bump his cast against the leg of the coffee table. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ohtori biting his lip to ward off similar pain in his hands as the junior scrambled for the book that had fallen off his lap when Atobe had pushed him back into the couch.

Hiyoshi entered with a sleepy but still awake Jirou draped half over his shoulder, and stopped short in the doorway at the sight that met him. Atobe was staring fixedly at the inane movie on the TV screen, and if the junior hadn't known better he'd have sworn there was a blush staining his captain's cheeks. Ohtori, on the other hand, seemed to be thoroughly engrossed in his book on the other end of the couch, but the other second-year's hands were shaking just enough to be noticeable.

"Atobe-san? Ohtori-kun?" Jirou still sounded sleepy, but Hiyoshi thought from the tone of the other's voice that he wasn't the only one surprised by the scene before them. "Everything okay? You two didn't have a fight, did you?"

That innocent question was so far from the truth that it surprised Atobe into a laugh, which he quickly turned into a cough as he turned to look at his teammates. "No, certainly not, Jirou," he said, his usual arrogant tones resonating in his voice. "What reason could Ohtori have to want to fight with my perfection?"

Snickering quietly at such a typical Atobe response, Ohtori dropped the book again, grateful Hiyoshi apparently hadn't noticed that he'd been holding it upside down in his haste to grab it before the door opened. "Everything's fine," he confirmed, smiling at them both. He had his hands and expression mostly under control now; so long as he didn't have to stand up, there was no way either Hiyoshi or Jirou would know there had been anything happening.

Hiyoshi raised an eyebrow at him to show he wasn't entirely convinced, and Ohtori suppressed a sigh as he remembered that his friend was very observant and not inclined to let go of his suspicions easily. Thankfully, Hiyoshi also valued his own privacy, and as a result the privacy of those around him as well. He wouldn't say anything unless Ohtori or Atobe did first.

"Well, Jirou can stay with you two then," was all the other junior said, moving far enough forward to dump the sleepy singles two player onto the other couch. Jirou kicked off his shoes and curled up, yawning and tucking his hand under his cheek. "I'm going back out, there's still lots of daylight left."

With that Hiyoshi turned and went out the door again, leaving them alone with the already softly snoring Jirou. Atobe and Ohtori exchanged chagrined looks. One could never be quite certain how much Jirou heard of the conversations around him when he was asleep; the small boy had been known to later repeat things said in his presence as if it should have been obvious that he was listening. And unfortunately, he wasn't exactly known for his discretion. More than one embarrassing secret had been revealed that way.

Certainly any more kissing was entirely out of the question, unless they wanted to go back to one of their bedrooms. Something that would be decidedly more difficult to explain if they were caught than simply sitting together on the couch.

"We'll talk later," Atobe declared softly, swallowing his own irritation at the interruption. He almost wondered if it was the universe's way of telling them they shouldn't be doing this.

Well, if so, the universe could go hang itself. The oddly innocent combination of embarrassment and desire in Ohtori's expression as he nodded his agreement was all it took for Atobe to decide that this was more than worth any potential consequences that might arise.

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