tenipuri_xp | RP log: Atobe & Wakato (Reply)

Date: Friday, October 21st, I believe
Rating: Umm... PG-13 for kissing? :D;
Summary: ~~Diva Pair Tea Party! ♥~~ Atobe welcomes a childhood friend to the Brotherhood, and Wakato is fed. XD Extra super-special bonus: more fluff than you'd ever believe for these two. <3

First log, yay! *breaks out the confetti*

Whether the world was prepared for it or not, Atobe Keigo did have bits of pity in him. This act, the one of helping an old friend, did not have anything to do with pity. Could it be that it was a simple act of kindness? God forbid.

Slipping his cell phone smoothly into his pocket, Atobe smirked from his position against the wall. Casually sliding off said wall, the diva turned, hands in pocket. "Tea?"

Wakato doffed his cap and smirked back, letting the duffle on his shoulder fall to the floor with a loud thump (that wasn't all his luggage--god forbid he only had one change of clothes! Damn, but he should have gone in costuming today... the place looked like Victorian England). "Never figured you for being the old-fashioned hospitality type... But why the hell not."

"Please Hiroshi," Atobe threw a smirk back at the redhead as he turned in the direction of his room. "Any type of hospitality is acceptable when welcoming an old friend." That and there wasn't much a person could do in a place like this. The dorms had minimal entertainment and Atobe hardly knew the area well enough to go out on a date.

As it was, a person should be happy just to be in the presence of the great Atobe Keigo. Now, when he was locked up in the Brotherhood, only a few individuals ever got to gaze upon his magnificent visage. Though, all arrogant thoughts aside (it was, indeed, possible), Keigo himself was more than pleased to see an old face again. "Ah," Atobe made a voice of acknowledgement as they reached his door. Placing a hand on the knob he raised a brow in Wakato's direction. "Unless you were looking for a different type of welcome?"

"Really? That's one I haven't heard before," Wakato snorted, then hurriedly gathered up his stuff as the diva turned to leave, following him down the long, somber halls of the place. Every now and then he would peek into a room they'd passed; occasionally there would be clean furniture and personal belongings strewn about that signaled a lived-in room, but more often than not cobwebs dimmed the light from the windows and a visible layer of dust lay over everything in sight. Well, it made sense that the manse wasn't entirely filled, from what he'd seen of the outside... The place looked like it went on forever.

The glimpse he had of Atobe's room through the half-open door made him snicker quietly, because it was immediately distinguishable from the rest of the mansion, the grounds, and, heck, everything else around. Typical diva... Wakato raised a lazy eyebrow at the implications of his host's next words. "Now why would I do that?" he returned Atobe's question to him, amused challenge in his voice.

Sliding open the door, the blond stepped in gracefully before moving aside to let in his guest. "I don't know... You were always one to surprise." Atobe smirked once more, closing the door gently with a 'click'. Moving farther into his room he took times steps and stood beside Wakato, gesturing to the sofa with a sweep of his hand.

Not waiting for the redhead to sit, Atobe sat himself down and crossed his legs smoothly, running a hand over non-exsistent wrinkles. "Sit why don't you?" He looked into the others eyes. "I should have someone here to make tea soon."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Wakato entered the room, looking about curiously at the lavish appointments that were a trademark of Atobe Keigo wherever he went--the diva could've been in a makeshift shelter in the middle of a hurricane and he would probably still have purple drapery all over the place or something.

He found himself grinning at Atobe's careful decorum, before giving it its due counterpoint by sprawling all over the other end of the couch, heedless of where his legs landed, although he was nice enough to keep his feet off--just. His hat slipped a little, fell over one eye, and the other peeked at Atobe from beneath red-orange bangs, gleaming mischief. "You really haven't changed a bit, Keigo."

Stifling a laugh, Atobe nodded. It was odd how one could be in the presence of an old friend and feel at home in mere seconds. Perhaps, Atobe thought absently, that is what they call friendship. Seconds after that thought, it occurred to Keigo how absolutely cheesy it was and mentally shook his head. Tea, he told himself, I need some tea.

"And I," Atobe began, leaning back on the arm of the sofa, "shall take that as a compliment."

There was a faint rustle and a creak at the door, and a slender girl in a sizable butterfly bow slipped into the room with a tray laden with steaming refreshments, set it down and was out again so quickly and deferentially that she could've been invisible. Wakato certainly hadn't seen any servants in the halls--maybe they were all that good.

He eyed the tea with some bemusement--there were china cups and saucers and metal tubs of sugar and everything. Shrugging to himself, the redhead pushed himself up from the sofa and wondered vaguely which ornate tarnished-silver pot contained the tea. "Hmm, nice spread you got there." Then he spotted the cookies. Wakato didn't exactly jump up and down where he sat, but his eyes lit up--now that's what he was talking about. Well-appointed tea trays were all good and well, but chocolate chips were the food of life.

There was no sound coming from Atobe as he shifted to pour himself some tea. Only the silent hush of the tea slipping into the cup and 'plop' of the sugar that was deposited soon after. Leaning back, he daintily took a sip, smirking from behind his cup at his friend's reaction to the cookies. Holding out a hand for one of the golden-brown treats to be placed in his hand, he replied smoothly, "Of course."

Wakato bit into a crunchy cookie with relish; halfway through chewing, he cocked his head at Atobe and his tea--maybe he would have some of that after all. Pouring some for himself, he smirked at the floral patterns on the china as he lifted the teacup to take a sniff and a sip. A blink, and then a liberal amount of sugar went in immediately.

Rolling his eyes at the other boy's presumption, Wakato reached over to the heaped dish in the middle of the tray and flipped a plump cookie into Atobe's hand with a wink. "Heh, should've known, huh?"

He settled back again, with cup in hand and a small plate of cookies in his lap, suddenly serious as though a switch had been thrown. "Now that the pleasantries're over with... What's it really like here? Besides those insane intensive training classes they kept going about, I mean."

Taking a decent sized bite out of his cookie, Atobe raised an eyebrow at the question. "What's it like?" Leaning back, he placed the cookie on the side of his plate, rubbing fingers together to rid of any crumbs. "The company here certainly is interesting. Some are worthy of attention while others," Atobe smirked, "are simply insane."

Somehow, when Atobe took a sip of his tea he managed not to slurp. One of the many mysteries. "Training is training, same as it is for anything else however, the actual classes are a bore." Insert over dramatic sigh. "Generally thought by those who have the intelligence of a ten-year-old."

Wakato inhaled a cookie and grinned; that sounded like a crowd where he could fit right in... "Doesn't sound too bad at all." He flicked idly at his hat with the hand that wasn't curled around his teacup. "Interesting company... Interesting how?"

He had to snicker at the face his friend made. "If they're so bad, why go at all?" Certainly, if they turned out that horrible, Wakato wasn't going near them with a ten-foot pole. Last time that had happened he'd ended up jumping out a window on the second floor--granted, he'd planned to go bungee-jumping out a school window just once before graduation anyway, but hey, desperate measures meant desperate times.

An eyebrow went impossibly higher (somehow missing the hairline) as Atobe gave his friend a pointed look from the rim of the cup. Taking a rather long sip, (making quite a show out of it as well, what with the eyelashes quivering perfectly against high cheekbones and all), the blond finally set his cup down for good. "Should that question really need to be answered?"

If Hiroshi's question wasn't rhetorical, Atobe's was.

During the laden pause, Wakato stretched, yawned; watched Atobe for a moment with a sort of detached admiration at the picture the blond somehow always managed to make, while twirling his half-full cup in its saucer. The cookies were all gone a long time ago.

He was so pleasantly distracted that it took a moment for his friend's answer to pierce his brain, but when it did, Wakato stared for about two seconds before bursting out laughing. "Okay, I definitely asked for that one." Straightening and sliding the cup and saucer onto the table with a careless clink, he yawned again, warm and full and comfortable now--not moving from the sofa anytime soon, nuh-uh. "Hey, thanks for the tea. Really good stuff." The wide mess of Wakato-limbs shrank a bit as he curled up a bit more, like a large cat about to take a nap. "What do you guys do around here? 'Sides train'n all that boring stuff--for fun, I mean." Great, now he was incoherent. Fault of the food and the hot tea.

Atobe's shoulders rolled with his chuckle, shining eyes--lazy--taking in the pose of the person in front of him. "Have sex, what else?"

Wakato had shut his eyes, sunlight on his lids lulling him into a light doze; at Atobe's words he opened one, arching the brow. Slipping one foot out of its sneaker with a thump, he gave Atobe a playful poke with his toe. "Is that an offer, Keigo?"

Languid amusement, threading in and out of his consciousness. Last time he'd seen the blond, they hadn't been quite old enough yet to play this game... Which made it even more fun to start now.

Shifting to make himself comfortable as well, Atobe shook his head at the nudge. His friend was always so amusing.

Tilting his head, he watched sun-kissed strands move in front of his eyes. "Always, Hiroshi." It was almost sad that he had never gotten the chance to play with Wakato before. It seemed now, was the moment to make up for lost time.

"Hmm, let's test that, shall we?" The redhead pushed himself up on his elbows, and in one sleek movement drew himself up and trapped Atobe against the other end of the sofa.

He leaned down for a long, slow kiss, sweet, quite literally--he could taste sugar and chocolate on the diva's lip when he ran his tongue over it, like a subtle touch of whipped frosting atop a hot drink. Wakato found himself grinning, not just because this felt damn good, but because he was comparing Atobe Keigo to a hot mocha at the same time.

Ah, he was being kissed.

Reminding himself that Wakato was never one to beat around the bush, Atobe raised a hand to stroke the other boy's cheek. It was refreshing that someone could openly admit what they wanted, and not treat it like a weakness. Or perhaps it was the crisp, bitter-sugary taste of Wakato's lips that reminded him of mint.

Shifting so that the two fit better against each other, the empath moved his hand up to run slim fingers through conditioned hair, getting rid of the hat in the process. Breaking away for only a second before diving back in for more.

Wakato made a pleased noise as they parted, once--it was even better, though, when Atobe came back for more. At least he wasn't the only one who felt this reunion could use a little more spice than sugar... Speaking of which, the tongue against his, slow, luxurious lick of tingles and taste... Mmm, he could definitely spend the afternoon, this way. And, he didn't even have to move that much, because he was quite comfortably pressed against his friend, the two of the sprawled across the sofa.

He nipped a little in protest, though, when his hat was removed, because then his hair fell all over the place, in his face--was it just him, or was it way too hot in here all of a sudden?

It seemed to Atobe, that Wakato was enjoying a bit more than he should. Well, believe it or not, Atobe Keigo aimed to please. (This tidbit of information was shown to few, and known by even fewer.) Removing a hand from the fiery strands, Atobe trailed a hand downwards, brushing tantalizingly around the waistband of his pants, threatening to go lower before heading up, under his shirt.

Wakato, had goosebumps.

Hey, hey, just where was that hand going? Wakato was about to break off the kiss to check, but then he felt sly fingers playing at his belt and felt himself shudder in response--wow, just from kissing? Where had the diva who was able to do this to him been all this time, dammit...

The minute tremblings escalated into full-fledged shivers when the hand sneaked under his shirt. That--oh fuck, that... Half an hour after their first meeting in close to ten years, and what the hell was happening? Wakato didn't really know, and would have been content not to ask, if the maid hadn't picked that moment to open the door, squeak, and dart back out with a rustle of petticoats. She wasn't any louder than before, but it really killed the ambience when her presence was left like an echoing silence.

Reserving a few choice curses for the sanctity of his brain, Wakato pulled himself off Atobe with an effort. Once free, he simply let himself fall back to his old position on the sofa, their legs still tangled together. "Heh..." He smirked, the flush not quite gone from his cheeks. "I think that was a much better welcome than tea..."

Shifting up into a sitting position, Atobe brushed back some stray strands. "I'm saddened you didn't enjoy my little, one-on-one tea party." Atobe smirked, and relaxed. "Though I can't say I'm complaining. However..." he eyed the door with distaste, "you seemed to have scared my maid quite a bit."

Wakato snickered at the memory of the look on the girl's face--her own fault for being so quiet in the first place... He entertained a split-second round of chicken-and-the-egg, before reaching to retrieve his hat where it had fallen to the floor, flopping it carelessly over his face.

"No offense, but I'm not really the tea party type. I prefer real parties, if you catch my drift." He rolled his eyes under the shade of the cap; he was sleepy, that was why he sounded like a bad movie. One leg twined teasingly around Atobe's, not asking for anything but seeking the fleeing warmth of their previous closeness. "Hey..." There was careful casualness in his voice--this was one point on which he wasn't entirely sure of his footing. "How's the training coming? For your powers, I mean."

Nearly snuggling the sofa, Atobe looked at Wakato with tired eyes. His shields were going down. The price of physical touch, especially one as intimate as that. "Wonderful," he replied, tipping his head back, relishing in the rush of his blood. "What else did you expect?"

"Hn... Yeah, what was I thinking?" Wakato was peering out from beneath his cap again. "Of course you'd be doing well in the training." He would've teased Atobe more, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the other like this--which meant, either it had never happened, or a pretty damned long time ago. He savored it; the uncommon softness in the dark eyes, the relaxed elegant mouth that he knew the taste of.

They formed a prone half-moon, together across the sofa. The various plush pillows strewn along its length made the position comfortable enough to stay in... Wakato really did feel like just spending the afternoon here, even if he did want to figure out where his own room was.

Half-lidded eyes casually swept over the other boy, as Atobe's breathing steadied, preparing to sleep. However, his friend was here for a reason and it certainly was not to visit the diva. Wakato was a mutant. Atobe didn't know how to feel about that fact and settled on thinking that it didn't matter what the other was. "And you Wakato? What brings you to the Brotherhood?"

Well, see now... That was one topic Wakato had hoped to avoid for as long as possible, but seeing as how he was in a place that specialized in training mutants, that had probably been an unrealistic goal. Hey, he was allowed to be optimistic once in a while, wasn't he? ... Damn it all.

"Heh..." This was the type of thing that it was annoying to have to explain, even though Atobe would probably get it, he was smarter and less headache-inducing than your average teenage guy. But Wakato couldn't see any suitable appliances close at hand to demonstrate on, and damned if he was going to get up... "Mutation, what else?" He smirked, a trifle bitterly. "Ironic, isn't it? All that time around you and I never had an inkling... And then I leave and bam! Couple months later I go to turn on the radio and all of a sudden I'm speaking Korean. Mother was on her yoga phase," he provided by way of explanation.

Ah, Wakato's mother. One of the few people Atobe would never, in his lifetime, forget. Whether that was a good or bad thing, the empath wasn't sure. And when he noticed that his thoughts had drifted to the woman, Atobe promptly (but delicately) stomped on that train of thought, just because. "I see... I suppose that is a fitting mutation." He wasn't positive about what Wakato was talking about, but he had a pretty good guess.

It was odd how Atobe had never noticed anything peculiar about his old friend. However, he could remember certain instances where something about Wakato had touched Atobe. He remembered something that had crashed and broke though the diva's mind...

There was an absent look in Atobe's eye as he finished his sentence, and Wakato could take a pretty good guess as to which stroll down memory lane his friend's thoughts had taken. He shook his head and pulled his cap down to cover his suddenly burning cheeks. Oh god, why did that have to happen...

Wakato was seven and a half. Let it be known that his mother was quite the flirt, and on occasions when his father was away on business trips she would frequently bring certain of her male colleagues home for a champagne dinner. Wakato still had no idea just what exactly these dinners had entailed, but as she often reminded her son to keep quiet (and he did) on these affairs he could take a pretty good guess. And, since his parents were still decidedly married and retrospect never hurt anyone... (And, he didn't have anything more to do with them anyway.)

That night wasn't even one of those nights--it was just him and his mother, but they had actually sat down to a perfectly normal meal together for the first time in a long time. Then the phone had rung and Wakato had gotten to it first--it was one of his mother's callers and pretty routine to have dinners interrupted in such a manner.

This time, however, when he got back to the dinner table... He found that he could hear the conversation his mother was having. On the phone. All of it. And some things that he really had not wanted to know. Confused, distraught and somewhat traumatized, the seven-year-old ended up running out of the house in a panic. He somehow wound up on Atobe's doorstep with no idea of how he'd gotten there, and ended up spilling the whole story to his friend... They'd laughed it off together, but it was still a thoroughly embarrassing memory.

Yeah, maybe he oughta just hide under his cap for a while until he was certain his face didn't look like it had been pan-fried or something.

Letting amused laughter rumble through him, Atobe smiled at the sight the other made. He never thought Wakato to be bashful, we something like that incident probably would have embarrassed himself. Rather, Atobe thought, I wouldn't be surprised if mother had some children I didn't know about.

"Something the matter Hiroshi?" Keigo asked, smirk in place.

Wakato lifted his cap just a touch and growled a little at the teasing. He was just about to drift off, too. Shifting his foot, he poked Atobe again, lightly. "Shut up. 'M trying to nap." Mumble, mumble. Okay, so maybe he had drifted off for a second or so. "Y'r blasted sofa's too comfy."

Atobe smirked, and relaxed back into the sofa himself. He supposed he could retort with something about his wonderful voice (because it was) but the tea was having its effects on him. The warm, soothing feeling combined with Wakato's own that was seeping through his shields was enough to sedate a elephant. It wasn't often that Atobe Keigo would simply, fall asleep. However, running affectionate eyes over Hiroshi, he could make an exception.