Birthday Gifts

"…Gods. I can't believe these people, sometimes." Atobe looked at the object in his hands with obvious disgust. "I mean, yes, I like to dress in clothes not everyone would necessarily pick, but… this?" He gave the object of his disdain a shake. "Couldn't it have been a different colour at least?"

"Mukahi thought you would like it," Kabaji pointed out calmly. "It isn't nice to talk in such a way about a gift."

"I did smile and thank him when everyone was looking, didn't I? That'd better be enough." Atobe snorted and threw the thing on the floor – honestly, rainbow-coloured feather boa? Had Mukahi been thinking at all? – then flopped down on his enormous bed. "I'm exhausted, Kabaji."

"It's no wonder," his friend said calmly. "Hosting parties usually does drain you, I've come to notice."

"Well, you would know if anyone, wouldn't you?" Atobe smirked a bit even as he put an arm over his eyes. "You know, Oshitari didn't first even believe you've known me longer than he has."

"I cannot say I blame him. As far as he knows, we spent our childhood in different countries altogether."

"Indeed." Raising his arm a bit to peek at his friend, Atobe said, "You're staying the night, naa, Kabaji?"

"Usu," was the answer, like he'd known it'd be. It always was. He could always trust Kabaji to do exactly as expected. And, well, it was always like this.

While Atobe wasn't quite sure, not after such a long time, he did believe that their tradition of Kabaji staying over the night after Atobe's birthday had gone on as long as they had known each other. After the first party of his that Kabaji had attended, when all the noise and chatter had cleared away, Atobe had announced he wanted Kabaji-kun to stay and Kabaji-kun wanted to stay as well, naa, Kabaji? And indeed it had been so, and the year after that as well, and every year since then Kabaji had stayed to listen as Atobe complained about his gifts and the guests and the party and just life in general.

Kabaji was good at listening. He never spoke unless absolutely necessary. And, given that this was Kabaji, such necessity was not exactly a frequent occurrence.

Rising his arm entirely and letting it fall on the bed next to him, Atobe stared up at the ceiling, not saying anything. Kabaji was equally quiet, not making a sound, as though he hadn't dared to speak without Atobe's permission. Of course this was not the case – in fact, Kabaji was one of the most daring when it came to talking with Atobe; he just rarely felt the need to do so – but quiet Kabaji was, nevertheless, never one to start a conversation by himself.

Kabaji was his friend, Atobe mused, a friend and a confidant and the only person he could really trust. He knew many thought he saw Kabaji as a servant but that was their problem; such thoughts didn't bother Kabaji and thus were of no importance to Atobe, either. So what if Kabaji always agreed to whatever Atobe said – it was simply because Kabaji had yet to find anything he wanted to disagree with, publicly anyway. When it came to important decisions, Atobe had come to view Kabaji as his final test before putting his plans to action. Nothing Kabaji had agreed to had ever gone wrong, ever.

Too bad his current problem was one he couldn’t ask Kabaji's help on – mainly because it concerned Kabaji himself.

He knew of Kabaji's feelings for himself, of course. He didn't have Insight for nothing, after all, and in all honesty there were moments he would have been able to read those thoughts even without his gift. Sometimes he just caught Kabaji looking at him in a way that clearly spoke of his friend's feelings for him. Other people may have never noticed, but he knew Kabaji, knew how to read Kabaji, and he knew what he saw. It was on these moments that he looked away, even if he didn't want to, not wanting to give his friend any false hope, not wanting to lead him on when nothing might come from it.

It wasn't that Atobe didn't feel anything for Kabaji in return, no, or even that his love for Kabaji was only of the kind one reserved for friends, however good friends they might have been. It was simply that he was in no position to only think about himself and his own emotions. There were so many other factors to consider, his family, reputation, their friends and the other teams and by gods the school. Simply following his feelings might get them both in so much trouble they could never entirely get away, and that was not something he wished to do.

He loved Kabaji, he really did. However, he couldn't be so selfish as to ruin both of their lives over mere emotion, however strong it may have been.

Mere rational thought, however, only went so far. Lately he'd been feeling certain… urges… more and more frequently. And though as a teenage boy he couldn't do much but accept these as a natural part of this particular time in his life, Atobe was quite unsettled about exactly how much of his brain capacity they seemed intent on claiming.

Ignoring what the teacher said because he was planning the team's strategy for an upcoming match was regrettable but somewhat unavoidable at times. Ignoring what the teacher said because he was too busy thinking of how the deep rumble of Kabaji's voice during tennis seemed to be directly wired to Atobe's groin was simply unacceptable and required immediate action.

However, there weren't many ways of action available. And this was what distressed Atobe at the moment.

"Atobe." The sudden call of his name startled Atobe. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no, nothing's wrong," Atobe claimed, sitting up on his bed and looking at Kabaji. "I was just… thinking."

"You seemed distressed," said Kabaji, not asking exactly what Atobe had been thinking of although the question was still clearly there.

"I may have," Atobe admitted. "I assure you, though, it's nothing you should concern yourself about."

"It distresses you," Kabaji said, as though that had explained everything. And, in a way, it did.

"Really, Kabaji, do not worry. I do not wish you to be unsettled simply because I can't be at peace for some reason."

"I care too much to just ignore it."

"I know, Kabaji." Of course he knew. It was exactly the reason he was so distressed.

There was another stretch of silence. Finally, Atobe sighed. "Come here, Kabaji."

Ever obedient, Kabaji stood from where he'd been sitting in an armchair that seemed only barely capable of holding his enormous form, approaching Atobe's bed only to stop a few feet away. He stayed still, expression unwavering, even as Atobe stood up as well and looked closely at his friend. This was Kabaji, after all, Kabaji who would never act until further instructions were given.

Kabaji was the same he had been when they first met, and yet he wasn't. Taller than Atobe, always, tall and wide and big in a way that had nothing to do with obesity, built like a tree trunk and just as immovable. His eyes, intent on Atobe, were just as sincere as they had been when two little boys had first looked at each other so many years ago. He wasn't showing any identifiable emotion, yet Atobe couldn't help but note a hint of a frown on his friend's face – doubtlessly due to worry for him. It amazed him Kabaji still continued to care, after so many years.

Then again, he couldn't even imagine not caring about Kabaji, himself.

It was a bad move, he was sure, the worst he could have ever done. It was going to ruin both of their lives and future, and he was going to regret it, surely, but he had no choice. The emotions he felt were tearing him apart, his fear of the consequences and his ever growing desire for Kabaji, and he desperately needed a solution that did not involve losing his best friend.

Reaching strong yet slender arms around Kabaji's neck, Atobe pulled him down for a kiss.

Atobe hadn't been quite sure what to expect. Sure, he had kissed before, but never Kabaji, and as far as he knew Kabaji had never kissed anyone at all. Thus he was somewhat surprised to find Kabaji kissing him back after the first second or two of stunned surprise. It wasn't a clumsy first kiss at all on Kabaji's part; in fact, Atobe found himself feeling quite shaken in a way that made him glad his arms were still drawing support from Kabaji.

"Kabaji," he gasped as they drew apart. "Who taught you to kiss like that?" Whoever it was, Atobe found himself thinking, was one lucky bastard – until Atobe found them, anyway. For some reason that perhaps wasn't all that unclear, the mere thought of Kabaji kissing anyone else like that was enough to make him feel unexpectedly jealous. Well, perhaps not so unexpectedly, considering how he tended to be quite possessive of the things he held dear.

"No one did," replied Kabaji, the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. "I've just been watching."

Watching. Of course. Atobe had known Kabaji's skill of imitation wasn't merely limited to tennis, but… surely one couldn't pick up kissing technique just by watching?

The next moment, though, the amusement was away, and Kabaji seemed just as indifferent as ever. For a moment Atobe found himself wondering whether he had just imagined it, the kiss, but he wasn't quite that delusional yet – he sincerely hoped – and, well, this was just typical of Kabaji. The kiss apparently hadn't been enough of an indication of Atobe's feelings to Kabaji, who would not dare to presume anything not clearly stated. There was less pain involved in this way of thinking.

Atobe felt a sting as he wondered whether Kabaji wanted to avoid hurting Atobe or Kabaji himself.

"Kabaji," he said quietly, forcing himself to look his friend in the eye, then corrected, "Munehiro. I… I believe I like you in a somewhat non-platonic way." Kabaji didn't say anything, just nodded. Focusing his Insight on his friend, Atobe tried to pick up whatever Kabaji felt as he want on. "I have come to notice – or, at the very least, believe – that you hold emotions of a similar nature. However, I am not quite sure what to do about these… emotions." Gods, why was this so difficult? "If we were to – if we are to, ah, follow these emotions, as it were, the consequences of such actions will most likely be less than favourable. Lately I've come to notice that I am increasingly unable to pretend my love for you is merely of a friendly nature, prompting me to initiate a change in the nature of our relationship. However, this choice is not merely mine to make, and therefore… Munehiro, are you willing to attempt a relationship both romantic and sexual in nature with me, even though you surely are aware of the risks?"

Atobe wasn't sure whether it was Insight, or hopefulness, or simply knowing Kabaji as well as he did, but he didn't even need to hear the brief response before he already knew it. "Usu."

"Excellent," Atobe murmured, pulling Kabaji into another kiss, family and the public opinion and his impeccable reputation the furthest thing from his mind as their lips met.

A few kisses later, Atobe found himself back on his bed, only this time Kabaji was there as well, Kabaji was lying on his back and Atobe lay half atop him, lips melted together as Kabaji's arms were around Atobe and Atobe's hands were drawing little patterns all over his friend's chest. His friend – he guessed other attributes could now be applied as well, seeing how Kabaji had agreed to his proposition, yet it didn't really matter since Kabaji would always be his friend first and foremost. Lost in this thought as he was, Atobe found his hand reaching the line where Kabaji's shirt met his trousers. With little hesitation, he tugged the shirt free, slipping his hand underneath.

He'd always known Kabaji was practically made of muscle alone, had seen enough evidence over the years, had already been there when Kabaji had been six and already capable of carrying his peers around with no visible effort. Nevertheless, it was quite different to be slowly tracing his friend's stomach, feeling the well-sculpted muscles underneath the smooth, tanned skin, sensing the nigh unbelievable strength that was so prominent in Kabaji right there beneath his fingertips. There was strength in Kabaji that could have broken him a thousand times over, despite Atobe's own quite notable prowess, the arms around him could have easily crushed him and there would have been nothing he could do about it. Yet he knew it wouldn't happen, now or ever; for whatever else Kabaji did, he would never, ever hurt Atobe.

Atobe wished he could have stated the same about himself and been entirely certain about it.

He felt Kabaji shuddering beneath his hand as it crawled further across Kabaji's chest, fascinated by the exact feel of the muscles that had so often distracted him by sight only. The arms around him tightened momentarily, not enough to hurt, never enough to hurt, just holding him closer.

Atobe let his hand wander back down, chest stomach a little trip to the side, and then he reached Kabaji's waistband again but didn't stop this time. Hand tracing over his friend's hip, he slowly examined the texture of Kabaji's trousers, then on a bold moment travelled to his crotch, finding a definite bulge there. Kabaji moaned into the kiss, a deep sound that made Atobe shiver, and he shifted to press the evidence of his own arousal against Kabaji's hip.

One of Kabaji's hands shifted now, moving down to Atobe's behind, slowly sliding over it as though he were trying to memorize it like it were a tennis move. The feeling was pleasant to say the least, and Atobe found himself moaning in turn.

"Munehiro," he murmured against Kabaji's lips, all the compiled desire and frustration of his teenage hormones leaking into his voice, "please…"

He said nothing else, no instructions no orders, but as usual Kabaji understood him from a simple word. He heard a deep, "Usu," and knew that Kabaji would do exactly what he'd asked.

Their positions were suddenly reversed, Atobe noted, finding himself lying on his back as Kabaji hovered over him, only a knee and an elbow holding his massive form inches from Atobe's. Kabaji's hand travelled down Atobe's chest, opening the buttons of his shirt one by one with swiftness and ease that seemed nigh impossible for such a large hand. Kabaji's mouth followed behind, pressing a trail of kisses along the newly bared expanse of skin. The hand reached his waistband but did not stop, opening the button and then the zipper, and as that warm mouth gently kissed his erection with only the thin barrier of his briefs separating Kabaji's lips from it, Atobe couldn't help but whimper.

There was no hesitation, now, not when Kabaji had his orders, however vague they may have been. Putting up little resistance, Atobe soon found his legs bare as his trousers were drawn away, Kabaji's hands gently caressing his thighs in their wake. And then there were fingers at the waistband of his briefs, a kiss on his bare stomach, and the next moment his erection was exposed, freed from all the clothing that had encased it before.

Kabaji looked him in the eye, for a moment, the simple intensity of emotions in that gaze stealing Atobe's breath momentarily, love desire caring and such deep loyalty one couldn't find it anywhere else ever, and then Kabaji looked down again and then his lips were on Atobe, kissing a part of him nobody else had ever touched before.

That mouth sure was talented, Atobe discovered, and found himself idly wondering whether Kabaji had ever viewed pornography – the quality kind – right before his brain functions died completely. Kabaji's tongue was tracing a complex pattern all over his cock, then paused to kiss the tip, and Atobe found himself grasping on the sheets as though his life depended on it.

Kabaji devoted himself to this new task with the same kind of unbreakable focus he did everything else, as though nothing else existed in the world for him but Atobe. His hands teased Atobe's thighs, though never enough to draw his mind away from what Kabaji's mouth was doing. Not like he could have forgotten it, anyway, not even if he tried; it seemed all the nerve endings in his body had concentrated on that small area Kabaji was so thoroughly worshipping with his tongue and lips, tracing the thickest vein with the tip of his tongue in a way that seemed designated to drive Atobe crazy.

And then there was Kabaji's mouth, taking him in, so warm so very warm, and Kabaji's tongue flat against his erection, and it was all he could do to get out a curt warning for Kabaji to pull away before he was coming all over his stomach. A strained, "Munehiro," escaped his lips as he did so, and when he regained enough of his mind to actually think, he decided the slight smile on Kabaji's lips was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Atobe beckoned Kabaji closer for a kiss, pouring all of his emotions into the simple action. Kabaji, Kabaji Kabaji always Kabaji, why exactly had they waited so long, obviously none of the risk or possible consequences were anything compared with this bliss.

"Let me," he murmured, his hands travelling down Kabaji's still shirt-covered chest. "Let me touch you…" He wasn't sure he'd have the courage or the skill just yet to do what Kabaji had just done for him, hard though this was to admit, but he'd always been good with his hands…

Kabaji hardly would have protested, of course, and Atobe soon found himself opening his friend's trousers, looking hungrily at the bulge he thus exposed. Straddling Kabaji's legs, he pulled both the trousers and underwear off his friend.

Though not enormously huge, Kabaji's cock was obviously in proportion with the rest of his body, longer and thicker than Atobe's own. Atobe ran his fingertips along it, teasing even as he marvelled at its shape and texture. Kabaji's hitched breath encouraged him to actually take a proper grasp on it, slowly sliding his hand across the thick erection.

"Pretty," he murmured, flicking his thumb over the tip of Kabaji's cock. "So very pretty." His other hand started sliding over Kabaji's skin, stomach hip thigh then back, even as he started stroking with the other. Kabaji was looking at him, the dark gaze heated, and Atobe was certain his own eyes were just as loaded with emotions, lust love loyalty. Another time of teasing the tip with his thumb, then he leant down to kiss Kabaji. Sliding his mouth into the other's mouth, he mimicked the same rhythm with his hand, the other hand now teasing Kabaji's inner thighs.

They were young and hormonal and had a lot of pent-up frustration, both of them, and thus it didn't take long for Kabaji to come, either. Atobe kissed him again, more lingering than heated this time, then made a face as they drew apart. "My. What a mess."

"Usu." There was a definite smile on Kabaji's face, now. It looked nice, Atobe decided. Kabaji really should have smiled more.

"I guess we'll have to take a bath." Sighing, Atobe stood from the bed, then glanced at Kabaji. "Well? Get up, Munehiro." His friend did as instructed, of course, following Atobe as they made their way towards the bathroom door in their half-naked state. It was very convenient, Atobe decided, to have his very own private bathroom – not that he could have ever even imagined anything else, of course.

Suddenly, though, Atobe reached for Kabaji's hand, finding himself with a startling need for reassurance that his friend truly was there and not going to disappear. "Munehiro," he said quietly. "You won't leave me, right? You'll stay with me no matter what, naa, Kabaji?" For the wrath of his parents he could take, and any hatred and disdain, because he was Atobe Keigo and clearly above other people's opinions, but if he did all that only to lose Kabaji…

"Usu," said Kabaji, and somehow the one word sounded even more reassuring and final than usually. Smiling to himself, Atobe still held onto Kabaji's hand.

His feet were suddenly caught on something and he stumbled, almost falling, only his own reflexes and Kabaji's immediate reaction saving him from a rather embarrassing downfall. Looking down, he grimaced as he saw the culprit. That wretched feather boa, again. Honestly. The thing he had to bear just because it was his birthday.

Well. At least he'd gotten the one thing he wanted.