Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Disclaimer: I own a shoe! But not Prince of Tennis! But a shoe!
Summary: How Atobe succeeded, Tezuka had no idea.
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Tezuka frowned. “Keigo.”
The grayhaired boy looked up at the taller boy.
“Yes?” There was something sheepish, yet increadibly proud and paeased about the expression covering his face as hair caressed his neck when he bent his head upwards.
“How… did you manage to get like that?”
The sligtly older boy sat down on the edge of the big, tiled bathtub that was located in the middle of the biggest bathroom that the bespectacled teen had seen.
“It was mocking ore-sama.” Atobe simply stated, from where he was sitting on the floor.
Tezuka rolled his eyes. He was sure that Atobe knew just how silly that sounded -just how could an item such as the teeth cleansing tool, moch Atobe, or anyone at all for that matter? It was beyond Tezuka Kunimitsu. How did he manage to get his whole 175 centimeter self covered, head to toe, in that toothpaste anyway?
When Atobe saw what went for a reply, he leaned back so he was lying flat on his back, gazing at the taller boy.
“Do you dare tell ore-sama it did not?” He frowned at the thought, though something playful snuck into his voice as he saw his frown mirrored in darkbrown eyes.
As if in revenge for disagreeing, the younger rolled over to his stomach and crawled over to his lover to reach out a hand to caress his face, rising up as he did so to press their bodies together, dragging a hand through the others hair.
Once he pulled back, he looked pretty pleased. Tezuka, if not nearly as much as Atobe, was smeared in toothpaste. The younger chuckled. “I think we both need a bath, ahn?” He turned the knob, water rushing out of the tap.
When Atobe dipped into the steaming water, leaning against his boyfriends chest, Tezuka saw the extremely pleased smile on the shorters lips, a certain glint in his eyes.
“You planned this from the start, didn’t you?”
The smile widened into a grin, that somehow, in Tezuka’s eyes made him look adorable, dirty or not.
“Why, whatever gave you the impression that ore-sama would do that, ahn?” He pressed a kiss to the brunettes lips, the minty freshness entering both their mouths as the kiss deepened and Atobe pressed his back against the other.
The basin was forgotten, smeared in purple, red, blue and white toothpaste, the Hyotei-bucho’s toothbrush buried deep down beneath some of the sticky substance.