RP Log: Kirihara Akaya & Atobe Keigo
Rating: PG
When: Towards the end of the Rikkai/Hyoutei two-week switch.
Where: Bathing Pool
Summary: Kirihara doesn't regard this much washing as necessary. Atobe corrects him.
It was safe to say that Kirihara Akaya was absolutely tired of bathing. It was no wonder Hyoutei’s tennis program was lacking, Atobe probably had all of his players in the shower for half of practice. What was the point of a good game if you couldn’t bask in the glory of your own sweat and tears after -- tennis afterglow was definitely a reward in itself. Green eyes glared down into cool water as he tore the headband out of curls and stripped himself of atrocious powder blue and slipped into still water.
He absolutely refused to scrub today. He didn’t think he could afford to lose another layer of skin anyway. Besides He was on bath thirty-three out of thirty-six, if there was so much as a dead skin cell left on his body he would have been surprised. Kirihara shrugged after looking over his shoulder and seeing no sign of Atobe, what that idiot peacock-buchou didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him and so Kirihara had it in his mind that for the next thirty minutes he’d relax.
It was a shame hand held video games weren’t water proof.
Rikkai’s devil made his way out to the deepest part of the pool before kicking his feet up so that he could float, eyes trained on the blue sky while he relaxed his tired body. With a furrow of his brow green eyes firmly shut, he was sick and tired of blue, blue, blue, fucking blue everywhere. This “bath” was going to be a Hyoutei-free zone, not even mother nature was gonna fuck this up for him.
“I see this must be a Rikkai tactic,” Atobe’s voice drawled from the edge of the pool. The captain was already washed. A towel hung around his bare shoulders, catching the drips from his damp hair. “You feel your talent is too insufficient to ever succeed on the courts, so you intend your body odor to complete the task.” He lifted the bone dry bar of soap from the side of the pool and threw it to hit the floating teen squarely in the stomach. “Wash. Or I shall do it for you. You may decide.”
The few moments of peace and tranquility only lasted for a fraction of a second. Arms swung quickly as Kirihara moved to stand, hand grabbing for the offending bar of soap with all the intent to chuck it back at Atobe.
“I washed already!” He complained, looking at the bar in his hands, God dammit, even it was blue!
Kirihara absolutely refused to wash and if Atobe came so much as with in arms length of him he’d make sure to put up a proper fight.
"You washed ... without soap?" Elegant eyebrows rose in mocking surprise. "This must be another Rikkai short-cut to performing a task adaquately." The towel was swung from its shoulder rest to be dropped over a nearby branch. Atobe did not relish the task of scrubbing Yukimura's bastard child, but he could hardly appear on the court across from a bad smell.
“I used soap.” Kirihara quickly protested, obviously lying. “And yeah, taking short cuts is how we won all those titles.” Green eyes rolled as he planted his feet in the silty bottom of the bathing pool, slightly on guard as Atobe lost the towel.
“The titles we won?” Atobe entered the water in a smooth slow motion, creating minimal ripples as his feet touched the bottom. “I believe Rikkaidai lost their title when you joined the team, ahn? And then there was the year you were left in charge on your own …. this year.” He stepped across to the younger boy, retrieving the soap as he went. “This,” he said, holding up the bar. “is used by wetting and applying to your body. It is insufficient merely to be in its presence.” Reaching forward, he caught Kirihara by his hair and pushed down to soak the tangle of black curls.
Kirihara was in the process of a quick retreat when Atobe snagged him and dragged him down, the shout that was about to leave his mouth was quickly drowned, leaving him spiting and sputtering water as soon as he surfaced. “What the hell!” He didn’t have time to protest the reasons for losing, a soap bar was coming at him and like hell he’d be scrubbed by a peacock, much less anyone else.
Atobe did not take the time to reply to this pleasantry. Grabbing the boy by the top of one arm, he proceeded to run the soap bar all over the now soaking wet head. White bubbles blossomed under his hand to run down and frame the furious green eyes.
Furious was almost an understatement, those green eyes were livid, brimming with anger and shock that Atobe dared to manhandle any member of Rikkai, much less himself. “Get your hands off me!” He spat, reaching up to wipe suds out of his eyes as he tried to break free of Atobe’s surprisingly strong grip.
Clearly it was not just the exterior that required scrubbing. Wrapping one arm around Kirihara’s waist, Atobe used his own body to hold him in position and he rubbed the soap over the snarling features, getting a healthy dose of bubbles into the mouth during the process.
“I have no desire to be in this disagreeable position any more than you do,” Atobe remarked coolly as he dropped the hand with the soap over neck and chest area. “I doubt one decent bath is enough to get your body truly clean.” He wrinkled his nose at the thought of unwashed skin against his own perfumed torso. “However, you evidently enjoy the position of ‘baby’ so much you insist on that helpless state being maintained at all times.” Foster parenting was unpleasant work.
“Then let the fuck go you pervert!” Kirihara lashed out, arms struggling to free themselves from their pinned position between his own body and Atobe’s. The soap he was spitting out didn’t seem to teach his mouth the lesson it was intended to as another slur of curses fell from his lips. “I don’t need you to wash me! I told you I was finished!” Shoulders moved back and forth as means to wedge himself free from the other captain without much luck.
“Only the farmyard swine would declare you washed.” Atobe took the opportunity of the curses coming his way to fill the mouth with soap once again. The sound desisted momentarily into that of wet skin slapping together as his charge wriggled. “If you were capable of adequately following instruction, this would not be occurring.” The soap bar moved with remorseless efficiency over torso, back and hips.
“I’ve washed twice already today!” Kirihara was going to kill Atobe when he got free. He was spitting soap again, eyes squinting shut as suds ran into them from his washed hair, neither of which that were making his escape any easier. He stumbled against Atobe, a sick feeling in his stomach as bare skin rub against bare skin.
God this pool was bad luck. It was no wonder he hated baths so much and this incident was only going to add to his complete disdain for water and soap combined with this particular hole of water.
“Given your position when I found you, I consider that extremely doubtful.” Atobe stopped, placing the bar of soap firmly down on the top of Kirihara’s head. “There are other places you must wash but I will not coddle you to the extent of doing so for you. I merely point out that you will doubtless be seeing Hiyoshi shortly.” He stepped back, flexing his shoulders. A reasonable warm-up, but he was going to have to soap himself down again. “The courts.” He said as he moved to the side of the pool. “Fifteen minutes. If I suspect you have gone straight there without completing your wash, we will be forced to repeat this exercise tonight.”
Kirihara’s lips narrowed into a thin line as Atobe pushed the soap bar into his curls and then made his way out of the washing pool.
He was going crush Atobe and after he did he’d make him eat the soap instead of getting to wash with it. That would teach him.
Hands worked to scrub the parts Atobe hadn’t as new determination took over him. The faster he got this over with, the faster he could take his revenge on Hyoutei’s peacock and away from all of this non-sense training. Baths and book reading never did anybody any good if he had anything to say about it -- at least not when it came to tennis.
When: Towards the end of the Rikkai/Hyoutei two-week switch.
Where: Bathing Pool
Summary: Kirihara doesn't regard this much washing as necessary. Atobe corrects him.
It was safe to say that Kirihara Akaya was absolutely tired of bathing. It was no wonder Hyoutei’s tennis program was lacking, Atobe probably had all of his players in the shower for half of practice. What was the point of a good game if you couldn’t bask in the glory of your own sweat and tears after -- tennis afterglow was definitely a reward in itself. Green eyes glared down into cool water as he tore the headband out of curls and stripped himself of atrocious powder blue and slipped into still water.
He absolutely refused to scrub today. He didn’t think he could afford to lose another layer of skin anyway. Besides He was on bath thirty-three out of thirty-six, if there was so much as a dead skin cell left on his body he would have been surprised. Kirihara shrugged after looking over his shoulder and seeing no sign of Atobe, what that idiot peacock-buchou didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him and so Kirihara had it in his mind that for the next thirty minutes he’d relax.
It was a shame hand held video games weren’t water proof.
Rikkai’s devil made his way out to the deepest part of the pool before kicking his feet up so that he could float, eyes trained on the blue sky while he relaxed his tired body. With a furrow of his brow green eyes firmly shut, he was sick and tired of blue, blue, blue, fucking blue everywhere. This “bath” was going to be a Hyoutei-free zone, not even mother nature was gonna fuck this up for him.
“I see this must be a Rikkai tactic,” Atobe’s voice drawled from the edge of the pool. The captain was already washed. A towel hung around his bare shoulders, catching the drips from his damp hair. “You feel your talent is too insufficient to ever succeed on the courts, so you intend your body odor to complete the task.” He lifted the bone dry bar of soap from the side of the pool and threw it to hit the floating teen squarely in the stomach. “Wash. Or I shall do it for you. You may decide.”
The few moments of peace and tranquility only lasted for a fraction of a second. Arms swung quickly as Kirihara moved to stand, hand grabbing for the offending bar of soap with all the intent to chuck it back at Atobe.
“I washed already!” He complained, looking at the bar in his hands, God dammit, even it was blue!
Kirihara absolutely refused to wash and if Atobe came so much as with in arms length of him he’d make sure to put up a proper fight.
"You washed ... without soap?" Elegant eyebrows rose in mocking surprise. "This must be another Rikkai short-cut to performing a task adaquately." The towel was swung from its shoulder rest to be dropped over a nearby branch. Atobe did not relish the task of scrubbing Yukimura's bastard child, but he could hardly appear on the court across from a bad smell.
“I used soap.” Kirihara quickly protested, obviously lying. “And yeah, taking short cuts is how we won all those titles.” Green eyes rolled as he planted his feet in the silty bottom of the bathing pool, slightly on guard as Atobe lost the towel.
“The titles we won?” Atobe entered the water in a smooth slow motion, creating minimal ripples as his feet touched the bottom. “I believe Rikkaidai lost their title when you joined the team, ahn? And then there was the year you were left in charge on your own …. this year.” He stepped across to the younger boy, retrieving the soap as he went. “This,” he said, holding up the bar. “is used by wetting and applying to your body. It is insufficient merely to be in its presence.” Reaching forward, he caught Kirihara by his hair and pushed down to soak the tangle of black curls.
Kirihara was in the process of a quick retreat when Atobe snagged him and dragged him down, the shout that was about to leave his mouth was quickly drowned, leaving him spiting and sputtering water as soon as he surfaced. “What the hell!” He didn’t have time to protest the reasons for losing, a soap bar was coming at him and like hell he’d be scrubbed by a peacock, much less anyone else.
Atobe did not take the time to reply to this pleasantry. Grabbing the boy by the top of one arm, he proceeded to run the soap bar all over the now soaking wet head. White bubbles blossomed under his hand to run down and frame the furious green eyes.
Furious was almost an understatement, those green eyes were livid, brimming with anger and shock that Atobe dared to manhandle any member of Rikkai, much less himself. “Get your hands off me!” He spat, reaching up to wipe suds out of his eyes as he tried to break free of Atobe’s surprisingly strong grip.
Clearly it was not just the exterior that required scrubbing. Wrapping one arm around Kirihara’s waist, Atobe used his own body to hold him in position and he rubbed the soap over the snarling features, getting a healthy dose of bubbles into the mouth during the process.
“I have no desire to be in this disagreeable position any more than you do,” Atobe remarked coolly as he dropped the hand with the soap over neck and chest area. “I doubt one decent bath is enough to get your body truly clean.” He wrinkled his nose at the thought of unwashed skin against his own perfumed torso. “However, you evidently enjoy the position of ‘baby’ so much you insist on that helpless state being maintained at all times.” Foster parenting was unpleasant work.
“Then let the fuck go you pervert!” Kirihara lashed out, arms struggling to free themselves from their pinned position between his own body and Atobe’s. The soap he was spitting out didn’t seem to teach his mouth the lesson it was intended to as another slur of curses fell from his lips. “I don’t need you to wash me! I told you I was finished!” Shoulders moved back and forth as means to wedge himself free from the other captain without much luck.
“Only the farmyard swine would declare you washed.” Atobe took the opportunity of the curses coming his way to fill the mouth with soap once again. The sound desisted momentarily into that of wet skin slapping together as his charge wriggled. “If you were capable of adequately following instruction, this would not be occurring.” The soap bar moved with remorseless efficiency over torso, back and hips.
“I’ve washed twice already today!” Kirihara was going to kill Atobe when he got free. He was spitting soap again, eyes squinting shut as suds ran into them from his washed hair, neither of which that were making his escape any easier. He stumbled against Atobe, a sick feeling in his stomach as bare skin rub against bare skin.
God this pool was bad luck. It was no wonder he hated baths so much and this incident was only going to add to his complete disdain for water and soap combined with this particular hole of water.
“Given your position when I found you, I consider that extremely doubtful.” Atobe stopped, placing the bar of soap firmly down on the top of Kirihara’s head. “There are other places you must wash but I will not coddle you to the extent of doing so for you. I merely point out that you will doubtless be seeing Hiyoshi shortly.” He stepped back, flexing his shoulders. A reasonable warm-up, but he was going to have to soap himself down again. “The courts.” He said as he moved to the side of the pool. “Fifteen minutes. If I suspect you have gone straight there without completing your wash, we will be forced to repeat this exercise tonight.”
Kirihara’s lips narrowed into a thin line as Atobe pushed the soap bar into his curls and then made his way out of the washing pool.
He was going crush Atobe and after he did he’d make him eat the soap instead of getting to wash with it. That would teach him.
Hands worked to scrub the parts Atobe hadn’t as new determination took over him. The faster he got this over with, the faster he could take his revenge on Hyoutei’s peacock and away from all of this non-sense training. Baths and book reading never did anybody any good if he had anything to say about it -- at least not when it came to tennis.