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Tezuka nearly backed right out and slammed the door behind him when he noticed that a number of people had gathered in the common room. Unfortunately, however, that evening curiosity won out over common sense, and he entered the room to see what the fuss was about. That was when he noticed that Atobe and Oshitari, who were sitting in one circle, were pulling bottles of alcohol from a cardboard box in the corner and passing them around to the second circle. At that point, Tezuka – as the responsible one – was forced to stay and interfere.
“We’re all underage,” he informed Atobe sternly.
Atobe shrugged one shoulder gracefully and handed three bottles to Kikumaru to distribute among the second circle.
“We’re at this camp to prepare our tennis for high school.” Tezuka crossed his arms and fixed everyone he could with his Stoic Look (TM). “It is an honor to be selected. We should not dishonor our hosts by—”
Yukimura yawned. “Are you always this much of a drag?” he asked, bored.
Sanada glared at Yukimura, like he actually agreed with Tezuka but just wasn’t willing to say anything against his captain.
“Come on, Tezuka!” Kikumaru pouted from the second circle. “We’ve been doing nothing but tennis for two weeks now!”
Tezuka blinked at him. “That is the point of this venture. A rigorous, one month, training—”
“Oh, shut up and sit down already.” Atobe grabbed Tezuka’s wrist and yanked him down. “We need you for even games, anyway.”
Tezuka landed half on the couch and half on Atobe’s lap. He scrambled off Atobe as quickly as he could, but somehow still ended up sitting on the couch in the first circle. “I cannot condone—” he began.
Fuji beamed at him from the second circle. “It’ll be fine,” he promised. “Just play.”
“Yeah, c’mon, Tezuka!” Kikumaru whined. “We just want to have fun…”
Tezuka would not normally have said that he was particularly responsive to peer pressure. However, his one weakness had always been his team’s well-being. The combination of two of his teammates pleading for some recreation combined with Yukimura and Atobe’s combined “this is why we’re better captains than you” looks was enough to overcome Tezuka’s good judgment for the moment. If even Tachibana in the second circle wasn’t objecting, perhaps, Tezuka thought, he was being too strict. Later, he would plead insanity.
“The game,” Yukimura announced demurely as he pulled a deck of cards from his pocket, “is five-card draw. Straight up. The winner gets a drink…and the loser has to remove one article of clothing.”
“What?” Sanada exclaimed, half lurching to his feet. He suddenly very much regretted not standing beside Tezuka in uptight solidarity. “You didn’t say this was going to be strip poker!”
“Isn’t it more fun that way?” Yukimura said sweetly.
Sanada gulped.
“Sanada’s just afraid he’ll have to take that cap off,” Oshitari said dryly. “He doesn’t want anyone to know that he has a huge bald spot underneath it.”
Sanada sputtered but sat back down.
Yukimura laughed silently behind his hand at Sanada’s expression.
Sanada officially hated everyone. “I don’t see the point of strip poker, when there aren’t even any girls here,” he sulked.
“I think perhaps the gentleman doth protest too much,” Atobe teased, eyes dancing wickedly. “Don’t tell me you want to see my body that badly, Sanada…”
Sanada fought the blush back from his cheeks. “Shut up.” His crossed his arms over his chest.
“Now,” Atobe lounged back against the sofa, “are there any more objections?” He looked around the first circle.
Oshitari smirked at him.
Sanada sat with his back ramrod straight in challenge.
Yukimura smiled softly and began to deal.
Tezuka, on the couch next to Atobe, just glared at him.
“Good,” Atobe proclaimed. “Now that that’s all settled, let’s play.”
Things were rather different in the second circle.
“We’re playing strip poker, too, okay?” Fuji smiled happily as he dealt from his second deck.
“Bring it on!” Kikumaru agreed. He stuck his tongue out at everyone in the circle.
Akutagawa, who not-so-secretly wanted to see Fuji naked, smiled back.
Marui gulped.
“Oh, god…” Tachibana shook his head.
Of course, no one objected to Fuji’s decree, though.
The first game went easily enough.
In the first circle, Oshitari calculated that his high queen was likely to be the lowest hand, in any case, and since it was the first round, he had little to lose. He folded and pulled off his right sock.
In the second circle, Kikumaru came up short in the end with a pair of threes and removed his left sock.
Yukimura won the first circle with three fives, and Fuji won the second with aces and eights. Everyone gave the dealers suspicious looks as they took their shots.
The second game was equally straightforward: Sanada and Tachibana lost socks, and Tezuka and Marui got drinks.
“Drink up,” Atobe said with far too much satisfaction as he pressed the shot glass into Tezuka’s hand.
“I don’t want to drink,” Tezuka scowled at him. “What’s the point of winning if I don’t want the prize?”
“You don’t have to strip naked in front of everyone,” Yukimura informed him. “You get to keep your dignity.”
“Bottoms up,” Atobe teased.
Tezuka swallowed the shot in one gulp. Only his desire to show Atobe up kept him from coughing violently. “Next game?” he gave Atobe a level look.
Atobe grinned.
Tezuka won the third round as well and took another shot. After that, he was officially drunk enough that he didn’t care for the rest of the night. Tachibana won in the second circle. The losers were Sanada, who was now without both socks, and Marui.
Then came the fourth round, and that was when things started getting really exciting.
In the second circle, Fuji considered his cards carefully. He’d had a good draw last round and currently held a straight in his hand. However, he’d already drunk once. He carefully weighed the merits of getting drunk over fucking with everyone’s head. Getting drunk never had a chance.
“I fold,” Fuji said happily, officially losing the game.
“Take it off!” Kikumaru teased, trying not to giggle over his queens and tens. He was finally going to get a drink, he was convinced.
Fuji smiled at them all, stood up, and shimmied right out of his pants. He kicked them to one side carelessly while everyone gaped.
“B-But…” Marui sputtered across from him, his cheeks burning.
“You still had your socks!” Tachibana complained. “That’s not how you’re supposed to play!”
“Maybe my feet are cold,” Fuji teased, sitting back down and drawing his knees up to his chest. His button-down shirt was just long enough that it concealed his underwear from view.
That didn’t stop Akutagawa from craning his neck to try to see them, though.
Oshitari wolf-whistled from the first circle. “They’re outdoing us, gentlemen,” he announced.
Atobe called, with a flush in hearts. He happily took his drink.
Everyone else sorted out who had lost, and laughter sounded through the circle as they realized, one by one, that Sanada’s pair of eights meant that he’d fallen short again.
“Take off the cap, baldy!” Oshitari teased.
Sanada had grabbed the bill of his cap to do just that. However, after Oshitari’s comment, he refused to cave in so easily. He scowled right at Oshitari, held his cap firmly in place, and stripped off his t-shirt right over it.
“Happy?” he smirked at Oshitari smugly. Never let it be said that the Sanadas weren’t the most stubborn bastards anyone had ever met.
“Very,” Oshitari purred, eyes raking up and down Sanada’s chest.
Sanada yelped and wrapped his arms around his torso protectively.
Yukimura laughed at him again.
“Show us some skin!” Kikumaru teased from the other circle. His face fell, though, when he realized his two pair had been beaten by Akutagawa’s three nines.
Akutagawa took his drink, but it was a bitter victory. He may have won the game, but he hadn’t seen Fuji’s underwear, no matter how hard he’d tried.
Game five was very straightforward.
Oshitari took a drink and Yukimura lost a sock, and Tachibana got his second drink and Kikumaru lost his other sock in the second circle.
In game six, Tezuka finally lost a sock, while Yukimura took his second drink. Marui also took his second drink, while Akutagawa sacrificed a sock and, during the movement, still failed to see Fuji’s underwear. Akutagawa wouldn’t have thought it possible for Fuji’s shirt to conceal them that well.
At this point, everyone had lost clothing except for Atobe, and only Sanada and Kikumaru hadn’t gotten a drink yet. Sanada was perfectly content with this, even though it probably would have alleviated his embarrassment at being shirtless some. Kikumaru, however, wasn’t happy at all.
“Hurry up and deal,” Kikumaru complained during the seventh game while Fuji shuffled the cards seemingly intentionally slowly. “I want to get drunk already!”
Fuji smiled and shuffled again.
In the first circle, Tezuka was eying Atobe suspiciously. “How come you haven’t lost any clothes yet?” Tezuka was, just maybe, a little bit tipsy. After all, this was Tezuka’s first time drinking.
“Now, Tezuka,” Atobe teased, “I know I’m irresistible, but you mustn’t seem overly eager.”
“Why not?” So maybe Tezuka was more than a little tipsy.
Atobe gave Yukimura a pointed look. Yukimura nodded subtly.
Sanada’s eyes narrowed when he realized that there was some sort of conspiracy going on between the two of them. No one else seemed to notice, though. Or at least Tezuka was too drunk to notice, and Oshitari was probably in on it, too.
Tezuka got four diamonds in the first deal. He turned in his four of clubs and got a jack of diamonds in response. Atobe cast aside one of his pair of sixes. Yukimura finally called. Tezuka proudly showed his flush and took another drink.
Atobe watched the movement of the alcohol down Tezuka’s throat with a satisfied smile before pointing out, “Oh, it looks like I’ve lost.” Atobe only had jack high in his hand.
Tezuka’s eyes were wider than usual as Atobe stood up, preened, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He struck a deliberate pose, one hand covering his face, before he rolled his shoulders back. The shirt glided down his body in a gentle caress before landing on the floor.
“Oh…” Tezuka breathed, his cheeks red from more than just liquor.
Yukimura applauded politely.
From the other circle, Kikumaru, Akutagawa, and Tachibana (who had just won and taken his third drink) all let out wild catcalls.
“That’s our exhibitionist captain,” Oshitari said dryly.
Atobe just smirked at him and sat back down next to Tezuka on the loveseat. Tezuka was still staring at his naked torso.
At the second table, the loser was eventually decreed to be Marui. He tried to pretend like he wasn’t also trying to see Fuji’s underwear while he took his second sock off.
“Fuji,” Kikumaru whined as the eighth hand was dealt, “I wanna get drunk already!”
Fuji shifted in his seat. Akutagawa and Marui both tilted their heads to try to catch a peek. “Maybe this time you’ll get lucky,” Fuji smiled at Kikumaru pleasantly. He shifted back; Akutagawa and Marui’s heads tilted the other way.
In the first circle, the game went smoothly. Sanada finally won and took his first drink; he made a face at the horrendous taste. Yukimura laughed silently at him as he slipped off his other sock.
In the second circle, Kikumaru bit his lip. He only had a pair of queens. He turned in his six and five, and drew… Kikumaru fought back the smile when he got his third queen. Of course, anyone who was paying attention would notice that he was no longer biting his lip anxiously. Tachibana and Marui were too drunk to notice, however, and Akutagawa was too busy trying to sneak peeks at Fuji’s underwear. Fuji knew, of course, but Fuji knew what everyone had because he’d planned it this way.
“Call.” Fuji shrugged sheepishly and put down his random assortment of cards. All he had was ace high.
Akutagawa had a pair of kings, Marui had fours and twos, and Tachibana had eights.
Kikumaru laid down his three queens with a flourish. “Gimme!” he reached gleefully for a bottle, took one deep swig…and passed out. Everyone blinked at him.
“Well…” Tachibana said slowly, “he never was known for his stamina…”
“Forget about that.” Akutagawa’s eyes were wide. “Fuji has to strip!”
“Yes…” Marui agreed breathlessly.
Akutagawa and Marui exchanged a look of solidarity. If Fuji moved enough to remove his socks, they’d get a peek at his underwear, and they’d win. If Fuji continued to insist his feet were cold and removed his shirt instead, they’d get to see his underwear and win. It was a win-win situation.
“Oh, right,” Fuji agreed. He lifted up a centimeter and slipped his underwear down his legs.
Akutagawa and Marui gaped in appreciation as Fuji slid the dark blue fabric up to his knees and then let his boxers slide down his shins. They pooled at his feet. Fuji carefully stepped out of them with one foot, and then caught his underwear on his left big toe. He dangled them teasingly over the edge of the couch for a minute before his toe flung them across the circle…to land directly between Akutagawa and Marui.
Akutagawa and Marui stared, eyes wide, at where Fuji’s underwear rested directly between them. Surreptitious drool was wiped aside.
Tachibana laughed at them drunkenly. “If you’d been watching Fuji, you would’ve seen his balls and not just his underwear.” Tachibana giggled to himself like this was the funniest joke ever.
Akutagawa and Marui instantly looked back at Fuji in alarm, but once again Fuji’s cursed shirt was concealing everything of interest from view. Akutagawa and Marui let out anguished moans.
“What do we do about Eiji?” Fuji considered the unconscious Kikumaru beside him.
“Hmm, yes,” Atobe intervened from the other circle. “What’s the rule when someone passes out?”
“I think he should be stripped butt naked and laid in the middle so that everyone can see him,” Yukimura said pleasantly.
“I agree,” Fuji smiled pleasantly back.
“Let’s do it!” Marui and Akutagawa scrambled up to strip Kikumaru, but mostly they were hoping that, from that angle, they’d be able to sneak a look at Fuji’s balls. They were disappointed to realize that this wasn’t the case.
Across the circle, Tachibana couldn’t stop giggling at them.
Once Kikumaru was stripped entirely naked, Akutagawa and Marui carried him to the center. “Which side up?” Marui asked curiously.
“Winner of the other circle’s game gets to decide,” Fuji suggested.
Everyone turned to Sanada.
Sanada’s face flushed. “I don’t care!” he insisted. “Whichever way gives him more dignity!”
“Which way would that be?” Yukimura asked curiously.
Sanada was about to say face down, before he realized that meant that Kikumaru’s bare ass would be up in the air. With this crowd, that could be downright dangerous. He wavered helplessly for a minute, while Yukimura blinked at him innocently.
“Face up,” Sanada finally grumbled sullenly.
“Genichiro wants to see it all,” Yukimura informed Akutagawa and Marui happily.
Sanada considered, not for the first time, whether his captain was Lucifer. So beautiful and angelic, yet so very, very evil…
That was how Kikumaru ended up, limp dick dangling free for all to see, in the middle of the common room.
“Wait a minute,” Sanada complained, “this isn’t fair. If we lose, we have to strip. But if we win, we have to drink, and then we pass out, and we get stripped anyway!”
“Isn’t it fun?” Fuji beamed.
“Let’s keep playing!” Yukimura beamed back at him.
Sanada felt a shiver run down his spine.
During the ninth game, Akutagawa concluded that this was the best game ever. Atobe was shirtless, Fuji wasn’t wearing any underwear, and Marui was drunk and draping himself all over Akutagawa’s body trying to see Fuji’s balls. Akutagawa had never been more awake in his life.
He didn’t even care that he finally lost his other sock, because Marui had to take another drink, and Marui was now leaning his head on Akutagawa’s shoulder and nuzzling him affectionately. Apparently, trying to see Fuji’s balls created deep bonds of camaraderie.
In the first circle, Oshitari took the game with aces over fives and knocked back his shot like a pro. Yukimura lost again and shrugged his jersey back off his shoulders.
Sanada, who was still sitting embarrassed and shirtless, finally decided it was time to strike back. “Hey,” he pointed, “that doesn’t count. You were barely wearing that anyway.”
Everyone turned to observe the point of contention with interest.
“It does seem a bit cheap…” Tachibana considered.
“Perhaps Yukimura could take something else off,” Atobe said thoughtfully.
Yukimura shot him a dark look.
Sanada tried not to look too smug. He had no idea what sort of unholy alliance Yukimura and Atobe (and perhaps also Fuji?) had concocted, but he was determined to break it, before he ended up the butt of their joke.
“Do it!” Oshitari agreed with a snicker.
“Mmm.” Tezuka was busy gazing at the line of Atobe’s hipbone right where it vanished into his trousers.
“Very well,” Yukimura huffed. He reached up and slipped off his headband as well. “Does that satisfy everyone?”
Everyone gulped. There was no mistaking that tone. Yukimura was going to murder them all in their sleep.
“Let’s play then,” he smiled.
In game ten, Tachibana lost his other sock, and Akutagawa took another drink. Except for Fuji, circle two was getting quite drunk. Things were progressing much more quickly over there now that Kikumaru had passed out.
Circle one, on the other hand, was now living in terror.
“Oh, look,” Yukimura commented pleasantly. “It looks like Atobe wins.” He shoved the shot glass into Atobe’s hand.
Atobe, refusing to be cowed, drank it back easily.
“And Oshitari loses,” Yukimura continued.
Oshitari pulled off his remaining sock.
In game eleven, Tachibana drank again, and Marui had to strip off his shirt. Akutagawa was ecstatic that everyone he wanted to ogle was now lacking vast quantities of clothing.
“And this time Atobe loses and Sanada wins,” Yukimura announced in circle one.
They hadn’t even put their cards down yet. So they did. And Yukimura was right.
“I want a new dealer,” Sanada complained and took his shot.
“Oshitari, you do it.” Atobe slipped off his right sock.
Tezuka stared at where Atobe wiggled his toes.
“No! Not Oshitari!” Sanada insisted. He didn’t have any delusions that an Atobe/Oshitari conspiracy would leave him any better off than an Atobe/Yukimura one. “Let Tezuka do it.”
Tezuka licked his lips and breathed against Atobe’s shoulder.
“Er…” Sanada reconsidered. “I’ll do it.”
Yukimura just smirked at him and handed him the deck.
In the twelfth hand, Akutagawa drank and Tachibana lost his shirt.
Sanada, much to his annoyance, wasn’t having any better luck, even when he was the dealer. In fact, it mostly just slowed the game down a lot, since Sanada couldn’t shuffle worth a damn.
Sanada scowled down at his final hand. It was a royal mess of nothing.
“Oh, bad luck,” Yukimura teased. “It looks like Sanada strips again.”
Oshitari quirked an eyebrow at his hat.
Sanada growled and began unfastening his pants. He stood stoically before them all and let his pants drop to the ground with a resounding clang of his belt buckle. Sanada would out-stubborn them all.
Oshitari started snickering.
Atobe burst out laughing, wrapping an idle arm around Tezuka as he did so.
Tezuka almost smiled at this turn of events.
Yukimura coughed pointedly, so that the second circle could join in.
“Nice tighty-whities, Sanada,” Fuji chimed in with a smile.
Tachibana started giggling again.
Sanada’s face turned bright red, and he sat back down wearing only his tighty-whities and his precious bill cap. He pulled the bill low over his face, hoping to disguise his embarrassment.
“Who won?” Atobe asked belatedly.
“Tezuka,” Yukimura glanced over their cards.
“Huh?” Tezuka blinked. “Me?” He reached over to take his fourth shot.
Everyone held their breath in anticipation, but Tezuka downed it, and frowned at all of them, like he couldn’t imagine what they had thought would happen.
“How can he get drunk so fast but not pass out?” Oshitari complained.
Atobe shrugged. His arm sneakily still hadn’t left Tezuka’s waist. His eyes surveyed the room. Sanada, Yukimura, Tezuka, Akutagawa, Marui, and Tachibana were all dangerously close to losing their liquor. Atobe himself, Sanada, Fuji, Marui, and Tachibana were all showing quite a lot of skin. Kikumaru was still passed out naked in the middle of the room.
Things were about to get very interesting.
The thirteenth game was as momentous as that number promised.
Atobe was (very clumsily and slowly) dealt three threes. He smirked at Sanada’s oversized, fumbling hands the whole time. In the first round, Atobe dropped his spare six and requested one card. Oshitari requested two, Sanada took three, and Yukimura took only one as well. Tezuka nuzzled Atobe’s shoulder.
“Do you want any cards?” Sanada glared at him impatiently.
Tezuka hummed against Atobe’s skin.
“That was directed at you,” Atobe informed Tezuka.
Tezuka blinked up at him. “I… I think I might be drunk…” He sounded very confused.
Oshitari and Yukimura snickered.
“You are drunk,” Atobe agreed and brushed Tezuka’s hair back away from his eyes. Tezuka’s eyelashes fluttered closed. “Do you want any cards?” Tezuka just shook his head in response.
“Whatever,” Sanada rolled his eyes. “Everybody set?”
At the next table, Fuji pondered his pair of twos. There was something too symmetrical about them. He didn’t like it.
“H-Hurry up,” Tachibana slurred, propped up against the arm of the sofa. “I’ve got a killer hand!” He giggled.
Fuji dropped one of the twos. “All right,” he agreed with a smile. He picked up another card. The nine didn’t match anything in his hand whatsoever. Fuji beamed. That was much better.
“Tezuka!” Sanada was growing impatient. “Okay, I vote we just declare him unconscious and strip him naked.”
“’m still awake,” Tezuka slurred into the curve of Atobe’s throat.
“He says he’s still in the game,” Atobe insisted.
Sanada rolled his eyes. “You just want him to stay there because he’s all over you.”
“He did say it,” Oshitari defended his captain. “He’s in.”
“But does he want any cards?” Sanada demanded.
“Do you want any cards?” Atobe whispered in Tezuka’s ear.
“Mmm, Atobe…” Tezuka sighed.
“No, cards,” Atobe pressed.
“Don’t want cards,” Tezuka insisted, “only you.”
“He says no cards,” Atobe informed the group with a dangerously shark-like smile.
“Fine,” Sanada snapped. “Now, who’s going to call?”
In the end, Atobe’s three threes took it. He accepted his shot gracefully. Tezuka, not surprisingly, lost, since he hadn’t even looked at his cards.
“Tezuka?” Atobe prodded his shoulder.
“What?” Tezuka asked sleepily.
“You have to strip now.”
“Mmph?” Tezuka mumbled. “Don’t wanna.”
“Too bad: hafta.”
Tezuka buried his face in Atobe’s hair. “You do it for me,” he requested.
Atobe froze, wide-eyed. “Is that allowed?” he asked breathlessly.
“Yes,” Oshitari backed him up immediately. “That should be allowed.”
“I don’t care,” Sanada complained. “Just get on with it already.”
Yukimura glared at Atobe.
Atobe was too busy considering his options. Tezuka still had one sock left; a gentleman would probably take that. Atobe concluded, after long and careful consideration, that he really didn’t want to be a gentleman, after all.
His fingers ghosted over the top button of Tezuka’s shirt and unfastened it. When Tezuka didn’t object, he moved on to the next and the next, being careful to ‘accidentally’ brush the muscle underneath each time. The bottom of Tezuka’s shirt was bunched up in his lap, and Atobe’s fingers slipped to brush other things in that vicinity perhaps a bit more than was necessary.
When Atobe was finally done, he slid one finger up the center of Tezuka’s chest, pushing the fabric aside. It fell off Tezuka’s body eagerly for him.
“Atobe?” Tezuka blinked up at him, confused.
“Shh,” Atobe soothed him, slipping his arm around Tezuka’s now-bare waist.
Tezuka shivered lightly at the feel of their naked torsos now pressed together. He didn’t protest again.
Oshitari adjusted his pants pointedly. “God, I need another drink.”
Sanada’s face had turned beet red. “That’s not appropriate…” he complained.
“Deal,” Yukimura demanded regally.
Sanada did as he said.
In the meantime, Fuji proudly displayed his eclectic hand. “Do I lose again?” he asked innocently.
“Yes!” Marui cheered.
“Thank you, god, yes!” Akutagawa exclaimed.
Fuji, slowly and methodically, began to unfasten his shirt buttons. Mentally, he was counting how long he could physically take on each one. Moving his fingers at their absolute slowest and taking extra care to brush each buttonhole smooth afterwards, he discovered that he could drag each button out to about ten seconds.
“Faster!” Akutagawa practically panted.
In the meantime, Tachibana realized that he had actually won. Hand shaking, he reached out for the shot. His vision blurred for a second before he correctly identified which of the three afterimages was actually the glass. He downed it in one gulp, and promptly passed out.
No one noticed because Fuji was still only on his third button.
“Hurry up!” Marui pulled at his hair.
Fuji managed to keep them in agony for a minute more before shrugging his shirt over his shoulders. Marui and Akutagawa gasped, looked down…and realized that Fuji’s shirt had fallen in just the perfect way so that the fabric bunched up in front of him and still blocked their view.
“No!” Akutagawa cried in anguish. “That doesn’t count! Kick it away!”
“But I’m comfy like this.” Fuji wriggled his still-sock-clad toes into the sofa deliberately.
“Atobe!” Akutagawa whined.
Atobe glanced over from the couch he and Tezuka were curled up on. “It’s fine,” Atobe informed Akutagawa with an evil smirk. “From this angle, we can see everything.”
Tezuka glanced over curiously, and his eyes widened. “Yes, we can…” he agreed.
Fuji smiled pleasantly at the both of them.
Tachibana snored.
“Hey,” Sanada pointed out. “Tachibana’s unconscious.”
“Oh, yes!” Akutagawa and Marui leapt to their feet. Stripping Tachibana would give them a new angle to see Fuji’s now entirely naked body. Somehow, though, Fuji’s shirt seemed to have magical properties. Much like those paintings whose eyes seemed to follow the viewer around, Fuji’s shirt seemed to shift no matter where Marui and Akutagawa stood so that they still couldn’t see Fuji’s balls. It was a cruel world, indeed.
“How do you want him?” Marui asked sullenly.
Atobe considered. “Hmm, face down, I think.”
“And put Kikumaru’s hand on his ass while you’re at it,” Yukimura chimed in.
“Good idea,” Fuji agreed.
Tezuka was about to utter a muffled complaint, but then Atobe’s thumb absentmindedly stroked his nipple, and Tezuka forgot that he’d ever had a brain.
“You people are sick.” Sanada scrunched up his face in distaste.
Marui giggled a bit as he did as Yukimura requested. Tachibana snored even more loudly in response to having his ass felt up. Kikumaru let out a little mumble.
“The teams seem to have gotten uneven,” Oshitari commented.
“Hmm, yes,” Atobe agreed. “Thanks for volunteering to switch circles, Yushi.”
Oshitari blinked at him. “Why do I have to go?”
“Because you’re the worst at tennis here,” Yukimura informed him prissily.
“What?” Oshitari glared.
“It is true…” Atobe pointed out.
“Can I switch teams?” Sanada asked hopefully.
“No,” Yukimura and Atobe said in unison.
“Why not?” Sanada sulked.
“Because you’re better at tennis than Oshitari,” Yukimura informed him smoothly.
Oshitari scowled and looked to Atobe for assistance. Atobe waved him away and pulled Tezuka deeper into his embrace.
“See if I ever help you again,” Oshitari pushed his glasses back up on his nose and stalked over to the other group. “So what’s going on here? Fuji’s not wearing any clothes? Oh, great,” he sighed wearily and sat down.
“Deal,” Yukimura ordered Sanada.
The fourteenth hand was surprisingly pleasant, all things considered. Yukimura took a drink, and Atobe finally removed his left sock. In the other circle, Fuji finally decided to win and took his second drink of the evening, since his first had mostly worn off by now. Oshitari lost and took off his glasses.
“Will you be able to see?” Marui blinked.
Akutagawa snickered. “He only wears glasses for show because he heard that Atobe thinks they’re hot!”
Oshitari scowled at Akutagawa and swore his revenge.
Across the room, Tezuka mumbled in Atobe’s ear. “Is that true?”
“Glasses,” Atobe informed him huskily, “are very hot.”
Tezuka’s cheeks burned bright red.
Game fifteen went peacefully enough for circle two. Akutagawa finally stripped off his shirt and grinned like an idiot when Marui gave him an absolutely smoldering look. Oshitari took his third drink; for him, that was still pretty much sober.
However, the first circle was finally to meet its end. Yukimura emerged victorious with a full house. Atobe lost again with a pair of fives.
“Tezuka?” Atobe said apologetically. “You need to move.”
“No,” Tezuka complained, mostly draped over Atobe now.
“I need to take off my pants,” Atobe explained.
None of them had thought Tezuka was sober enough to move that fast.
“Ahem. Well, yes.” Atobe blinked in surprise. Even he wasn’t sober enough at this point to do another strip-tease, so he just flicked off his pants casually and let them drop where they willed. He was wearing solid-gold, skintight boxer-briefs underneath.
Everyone stared.
“Feast upon my magnificence,” Atobe found the energy to preen a bit at all the attention before sitting back down next to Tezuka.
Tezuka leaned back in slowly, hesitantly, eyes wide behind his glasses. Atobe smirked in a welcoming sort of way as Tezuka carefully reached out to run his index finger over the texture of Atobe’s shiny underwear. Atobe caught Tezuka’s wrist and guided Tezuka’s hand to the front of his shorts instead, where the gold material was tented in an unmistakable way.
“The fabric’s even softer here,” Atobe informed Tezuka.
Tezuka didn’t question that that didn’t really make sense. He just stroked up and down rhythmically.
Atobe gasped. “Ah… I, uh, believe I shall be turning in for the evening. So sorry to cut and run, Yukimura.”
“That’s not part of the game,” Yukimura smiled dangerously.
“Why don’t you take your victory drink first?” Atobe challenged.
Yukimura fixed him with a level look and threw back his shot.
Atobe stared.
Yukimura stared.
Atobe smirked.
Yukimura smirked.
And then Yukimura’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out on the ground with a ‘thud.’
“Captain!” Sanada exclaimed in alarm, instantly at his side.
“If there are no further objections, then,” Atobe announced, “Tezuka and I are going to bed.”
“Mmm, Atobe,” Tezuka kissed the edge of his lips.
“Tezuka…” Atobe breathed in ecstasy.
Together, the two of them staggered back to the dorm rooms.
Silence followed their departure.
“So,” Fuji finally clapped his hands, “Akutagawa gets to decide how Yukimura ends up.”
“What?” Sanada blinked, stroking the back of his unconscious captain’s hand. “No!”
“How do you want him, Fuji?” Akutagawa sucked up in hopes of seeing Fuji’s balls at some point that evening.
“Hmm,” Fuji considered. “How about on his back, but spread-eagled, so that we can see everything?”
“Oh, hell, no!” Sanada stood before Yukimura determinedly, displaying his mighty tighty-whities for them all. “I won’t let you touch him.”
“Why are you defending him?” Oshitari complained. “He’s been making you suffer all night.”
Sanada huffed. “What if it was your captain?” he insisted.
“Hell, I’d make him do the splits and take pictures,” Oshitari concluded smugly.
Sanada scowled.
Fuji sighed. “This is taking too long,” he decided. “Maybe I should go to bed, too.” He picked up his shirt and stood, so that Akutagawa and Marui still couldn’t see anything. He turned at precisely the same time he flung his shirt back over his shoulder, so it blocked his ass while he was walking away, too.
Akutagawa and Marui whimpered forlornly.
Right at the door to the dorms, Fuji stopped. “Are you coming?” he inquired with an innocent smile. At the same time, he half-turned and deliberately flashed them the Full Monty.
Akutagawa and Marui gaped.
“R-Really?” Marui breathed.
“Can I be in the middle?” Akutagawa clapped.
“Sure,” Fuji smiled.
That left Fuji and Marui to fight over who was top and who was bottom. No one should even need to guess who won that very short battle.
In the end, that left Oshitari and Sanada standing over the fallen body of Yukimura.
“The rules are the rules,” Oshitari insisted.
“He’s my captain,” Sanada said defiantly.
“I’ll play you,” Oshitari smirked.
“What?”
Oshitari reached over and took the deck that Fuji had left behind. “Whoever draws the lower card strips. The first person naked loses.”
Sanada considered Oshitari. Oshitari hadn’t even lost his shirt yet, while Sanada was down to a hat and underwear. “You have more clothes left than I do,” he insisted in his best ‘that’s not fair’ voice.
“You’re the one who wants to disobey the rules,” Oshitari retorted.
Sanada considered that for a moment and nodded. He would win. When his captain was down, he would always be there to take victory in his place. Except, of course, at Regionals when he lost. But Sanada was too drunk to think about that right now.
Sanada and Oshitari drew the first card.
“Nine,” Oshitari smirked.
“Jack,” Sanada almost smirked in response.
Oshitari slipped out of his shirt.
They drew again.
“Seven,” Sanada said nervously.
“Six,” Oshitari said in disgust. He kicked off his pants as well.
Sanada thought that, perhaps, victory was on his side today, and drew a… “Two.”
“King,” Oshitari grinned.
Sanada faced him bravely and pulled his beloved tighty-whities down.
It should be noted that, just as the rest of Sanada didn’t look at all like a fourteen-year-old, what lay below the belt also did not resemble the sort of equipment that any fourteen-year-old should possess. Sanada stood red-faced at attention. The little soldier between Sanada’s legs stood at attention as well, and appeared equally flushed. At least Sanada hadn’t given in and taken off his cap, though. Heaven forbid he cave in to some stupid challenge he’d half forgotten about and do that!
Oshitari laughed and, before Sanada knew what was happening, pulled a camera out from his fallen pants and snapped a picture.
“Hey!” Sanada sputtered and, uncaring for their respective states of undress, lunged for Oshitari.
Oshitari, still laughing, escaped out the door.
Sanada took off after him, little Sanada waggling angrily as he ran.
Oshitari rounded his corner, saw the main doors, and bolted. Sanada was hot on his heels.
They burst out into the cool evening air…and right into a group of college girls who were obviously on their way back to their dorms. Wolf-whistles and catcalls sounded through the night, and Sanada froze like a deer trapped in headlights.
Oshitari escaped into the darkness.
“Yeah, baby!” the girls hollered at Sanada. “Give us a dance!”
Sanada slowly removed the cap from his head and used it to cover his genitals instead. Then, he dashed back inside, his entire body blushing red.
He realized belatedly that, since he didn’t have a bald spot after all, he really should have taken the hat off instead. Either that, or he should stop sticking his neck out for Yukimura when he did idiotic things.
Fortunately for everyone, Sanada was too hung-over in the morning to remember either of those resolutions, and absolutely nothing changed.
Meanwhile, Oshitari took the opportunity to send the picture of Sanada standing at attention to every single person he could think of. Even that one team from Hokkaido whose name he couldn’t quite remember, but for some reason, he had the captain’s number way at the bottom of his phone. That was how many people he sent it to. He would be getting text messages of “lol” and “hawt” into next week.
The next morning, the sun rose over the horizon, the birds chirped in the trees, and ten very hung-over boys awoke.
Tezuka sat up with a start and a headache to find himself naked (except, bafflingly, for his right sock) in bed with a completely naked Atobe. He mentally panicked for a moment before Atobe pulled him back down and mumbled, “Too early to get up yet. Make love to me.” It was hard to refuse a direct order from Atobe Keigo like that.
Akutagawa and Marui woke up equally naked and hung-over. “Mmm,” Akutagawa nuzzled Marui contentedly, “so I didn’t dream up last night…” He looked around. “But where’s Fuji?”
Marui sputtered. “Fuji was here, too?”
Akutagawa frowned, wondering if he’d imagined that part. His ass was definitely sore, but maybe he and Marui had just done it both ways. “It doesn’t matter,” Akutagawa snuggled into Marui. “I still have you.”
Marui tried to get up. That was when he realized that someone had handcuffed him and Akutagawa together. And, of course, the handcuffs ran through the head of the bed, as well. Marui paled when he realized that they were going to have to call for help, which would inevitably involve getting both the coaches and some locksmiths.
Marui was definitely starting to believe that Fuji Shusuke had actually been there.
Fuji, meanwhile, was in the kitchen, humming happily to himself and making breakfast.
This eventually woke up Tachibana and Kikumaru, who were still passed out naked on the floor.
“Eep! Sorry!” Kikumaru pulled back his hand as soon as he realized where it was. “I didn’t mean…”
Tachibana’s cheeks were red, and he fluttered his eyelashes at Kikumaru. “Oh, Eiji,” he sighed. “I never knew you felt this way. I always thought that you and Oishi…”
Kikumaru squeaked and flailed and wondered who the hell he should kill for getting him into this predicament. Kikumaru decided that he was never drinking again. He just hoped that Oishi never found out.
Little did he know that Oshitari had taken pictures of them, too, and sent them to everyone.
It turned out that, in the end, Oshitari did get his comeuppance, because people wouldn’t stop calling him about the pictures he’d sent out last night, and his hangover had prevented him nine times now from successfully turning off his phone.
Yukimura was the last to awake, fully dressed, in the comfort of his bed, with a stretch and a yawn. “Mmm,” he sighed happily. “’Morning, Genichiro.”
Sanada sat in his corner and sulked, his arms crossed defensively over his chest.
“Genichiro?” Yukimura frowned.
“What?” Sanada snapped.
“What happened to your cap?”
Indeed, Sanada was not wearing it. In fact, he wouldn’t ever be wearing that particular cap again. It had still been protecting him from unwanted photo-ops last night while he’d dutifully dragged Yukimura back to his room. During the process, Sanada’s little soldier had even more dutifully shot off right into his cap at the thought of having Yukimura so helpless before him like that. Sanada would never breathe a word of this to another living soul, of course.
“It’s gone,” Sanada hissed.
“Ah.” Yukimura smiled like he knew exactly what happened anyway. “Well, I’m famished. Let’s go downstairs. Fuji is making breakfast.”
Sanada blinked. There was no way Yukimura could actually humanly know that fact.
“Last night was fun,” Yukimura concluded. “We should do it again.” His head turned 180-degrees around to stare at Sanada. “And next time you Will. Not. Lose.”
Sanada gulped. And could do nothing but agree.