AN: Inspired by that scene of Atobe and Echizen singing together in Band of Princes.

WARNING: too much talking, too little playing, and overpopulated with crack bunnies.

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It starts with a text message.

Considering the quality of your band resources, my glorious self is deigning to offer you and your band a ride in my jet to the music festival this coming weekend."

Ryoma rolls his eyes and texts, "No thanks, Monkey King."

A minute later, Ryoma is distracted from his homework by another text, this one saying, "I only ask out of the generosity of my benevolent heart as your band was abysmally late to the Osaka Rock Fair."

Ryoma winces at the memory of that particular disaster and texts back childishly,"You don't have a heart!"

A beat later, "How dare you! My great self has a heart as wide as the Pacific!"

Grinning over making Atobe lose his cool if only over text-messaging, Ryoma taunts, "Yeah sure, Mr. Grinch." He keeps the phone in his hand for the next text which takes a little longer than before.

"Fine. I will expect Seigaku to be late to yet another concert then."

Ryoma glares at the dismissive text when it appears and punches out,"Don't hold your breath." Then Ryoma pauses and rapidly sends out another text.

"Better yet, we'll race you there. Monkey King."

As he expected, Atobe takes the bait and Ryoma reads the next text with a wide smirk, homework completely forgotten for the moment.

"Prepare to lose, plebeian."

Just because he knows it would frustrate Atobe to bits not to have the last word, Ryoma shoots back, "Mada mada da ne."

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After the trucker takes off after making some bad excuses, the dumbfounded band turns around to look at the diner behind them in silence.

"So, now what?" Momo asks, and the group as one turns to look at their tall bespectacled leader, who stares back flatly.

"We go in," Tezuka says, and it is only because of their experience with Tezuka that his silent duh is heard.

Oishi wrings his hands worriedly. "Tezuka, what about the festival tomorrow? At this rate we'll miss it!"

"We have no choice. It's too late to go hitchhiking for another ride. We will stay here for the night, build up our energy and try again tomorrow morning," Tezuka says tiredly, looking like an old man all of a sudden.

It makes Ryoma drawl in his defense, "So unless anyone has a car."

"There is a 48% chance we'll make it to the festival on time for our performance," Inui says helpfully. "That is including the factors of traffic, weather and oversleeping on the part of Echizen and Momoshirou."

Despite the grim percentages, Kawamura perks up. "Will it increase our chances if we keep them from oversleeping?"

Inui nudges his glasses awkwardly. "Ah, no. I meant that those are the best chances if we keep Echizen and Momo from oversleeping," he corrects reluctantly.

"Oh." The group slumps.

Nothing else to do, they take their instruments and troop into the diner to get some food and plan.

Keeping up the optimistic front, Tezuka and Oishi and Inui patronize a U-shaped booth to plan out the lineup for the performance and argue over the ratio of Aozu to Cap to Bin songs.

Nearby, Kaidou is regarding the spotty counter top with something like horror on his face as Momo takes this opportunity to steal the fries on his plate. Over in the corner, Kikumaru and Fuji are musing over the old fashioned juke box and giggling over the cheesy songs it spouts when they feed it coins they borrowed from Oishi because Kikumaru loses change too quickly and Fuji doesn't like to jingle when he walks. Kawamura is engaged in a lively conversation with the diner chef, who eventually invites him to take a look at the kitchen. At this point, Ryoma is casting wary eyes in their direction because as skilled a sushi chef Kawamura is shaping up to be, he and fire have a bad relationship.

He contemplates whether or not to tell someone as he sucks on his milkshake, which is so thick that it doesn't make it all the way up the straw unless he sucks hard, lips puckered and cheeks collapsed. Now this is what a real milkshake is supposed to be like, thinks Ryoma as he hums in contentment.

Ryoma doesn't realize that he has attracted attention until Fuji says wryly, "Keigo-kun should like this."

He looks up just as the phone in Fuji's hand blinks and realizes his picture is being taken. Releasing the straw in his mouth, he promptly swivels around so Fuji can't take another picture.

"Don't take my picture, Fuji-senpai!" Ryoma complains, face a furious red. He hopes that his turning on the bar stool is making it shaky enough that Fuji can't take a proper picture because his senpai starts to follow him with the camera phone while giggling like a maniac.

"Ryo-chan looked so adorable though!" Fuji says with evil glee. "Stay still so the camera can catch your face properly."

"NO." Ryoma stubbornly keeps up the minute side-to-side turning of the stool to keep the picture blurry.

At his side, Momo swipes his milkshake and tries to taste it.

"What the—it's not coming out!" Aggravated, Momo starts thumping the milkshake against the counter to loosen it until Ryoma steals it back with a glower.

"But Echizen, it wouldn't come out. They made it wrong," the guitarist whines.

Ryoma rolls his eyes and says, "It's supposed to be thick because it's an old-fashioned milkshake. It's popular at American diners."

"Eh, is that why ochibi-chan was sucking it like that? It was kind of suggestive nya!" Kikumaru says as he glomps Ryoma from behind.

"Eiji-senpai, I don't know what you mean," says Ryoma as he tries to squirm out of the redhead's arms.

Fuji laughs. "It was rather suggestive, wasn't it? Keigo-kun will be very pleased. Perhaps he'll let me borrow that grand piano in his house as a reward."

"For the last time, Fuji-senpai, I'm not secretly dating Atobe."

Fuji looks astonished like it's real news. "Really? Your relationship is public now? You have my congratulations, Echizen," Fuji tells him seriously and then does a small "banzai!" motion with his hands.

Ryoma looks at him flatly and then turns the stool away again, muttering, "You're delusional, senpai."

Meanwhile, Momo has demanded to be let in the loop about what's so "suggestive" and Kikumaru tries to demonstrate with Momo's drink and promptly gets soda up his nose. Kikumaru sneezes and hacks all over the counter top, scandalizing Kaidou so thoroughly that he throws in the towel and slinks off with his tail between his legs to find solace with his senpai in the U-booth.

Ryoma looks over the counter in disgust and says, "Ew, Kikumaru-senpai." The only other customer at the counter seems to share his sentiments because he shoots them a dirty look before throwing a crumpled wad of cash down and marching out the door.

Kikumaru sniffles around the tissues that Fuji hands him as Fuji then hands the remaining tissues to Momo, who gapes when the keyboardist tells him pleasantly to mop up the mess.

"F-Fuji-senpai!"

Ryoma is carefully sliding off his bar stool so he can escape before Momo realizes he has someone younger and physically weaker than him to bully into the task when there's an enormous exploding sound coming from the kitchen. Everyone looks over at where a towering fire rages inside the kitchen which is visible through a long strip window that extends as far down as the service counter.

Kawamura and the night chef are scrambling around the kitchen bellowing at the top of their lungs.

"BURNING! HOT FIRE, BABY! OH MY GOSH!" Kawamura is in full panic mode, waving the spatula around like a sword, or like a drumstick by the way he keeps whacking everything he runs past.

There is an audible sigh from Tezuka back in the booth and Ryoma doesn't need to turn around to know that he was pinching the bridge of his nose again.

Standing up, undeterred by the last of the diner's customers fleeing past him, Inui says, "Fuji, do you mind—the spatula?"

"On it," Fuji chirps as he is already behind the service counter. When he reaches the window, he wastes no time plucking the spatula out of Kawamura's hand as he passes by.

Without the spatula, the drummer visibly calms down. He looks guiltily at the fire and hunches slightly to say through the window, "Sorry, guys. I'm pretty sure it's an oil fire. Unless there's a fire extinguisher out there…we should probably call 911?"

The chef screams, "IT'S TOO BIG! OH MY GOD IT'S TOO BIG! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES BOYOS!" With an agility that shocks considering his size, the chef leaps through the viewing window, scrambles over the service counter and books it out the door.

The band gapes after him for a full three seconds before following his example.

Later, they huddle outside around their instruments as they watch the fire truck battle the flaming diner, which looks like a beacon the way the flames have raised into the night sky.

"So, now what?" Kawamura asks and blanches when the others glare daggers at him.

By now Tezuka looks so old with stress he could pass for his grandfather in the dim light. "…Let's just find a place to sleep for the night and get out of here as soon as possible. Preferably before the town drives us out," he says resignedly, as if he would be surprised if the scenario didn't occur.

As they hurry to the nearest motel to avoid any of the policemen stalking around, Ryoma thinks idly to himself that Atobe probably doesn't have to deal with this kind of insanity in his life. His band is probably either on its way to the festival area in his jet or already there and relaxing in a hot tub.

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Generosity is overrated, Atobe thinks viciously for the umpteenth time as Mizuki attempts to lure his band members to the dark side with sweets, which is unfortunately not an euphemism. Mizuki Hajime is honest to God, leaning above Jiroh with a bar of chocolate and a slimy smile like a poster child for Rapists R Us, while on the other side of the limo his band mates play Uno and pretend to be deaf.

Atobe sends narrow-eyed looks at them for letting him willingly bring this wavy-haired monster on board. Stranded or not, Atobe deeply regrets not passing by St. Rudolph when they first spotted the band shivering pathetically at the road side. They were the Trojan horse and Mizuki was the death hiding in its belly. So far the madman has already bought Ohtori, who is clueless, and Mukahi, who is eating his chocolate with a self satisfaction that burns. Atobe counts it as lucky that Wakashi is home sick if only to deprive St. Rudolph of another victim.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" Ohtori is asking Shishido, who looks pained at the chocolate staining his kouhai's mouth, though whether this is because of Ohtori's unconscious betrayal to the band or Shishido's sinful urge to devour his kouhai, Atobe is unsure.

"Yeah, join the dark side, Shishido. We have M&Ms," Mukahi gloats as he waves the aforementioned candy.

Atobe and Shishido simultaneously glower and Oshitari sighs heavily. "Gakuto, do not tease them. Atobe is going explode at any moment now."

At that, Atobe looks affronted and sniffs. "I will do no such thing. If Mukahi and Ohtori want to sell their bodies to St. Rudolph's dubious manager for candy that is up to them. I will not insult them by mentioning how the price they are selling themselves for is deplorably cheap. After all some people have different values for certain services that are otherwise commonly valued world wide."

Oshitari coughs to hide his smirk and Mukahi looks like he's seriously considering throwing the candy in his hands at Atobe if not for the fact that Atobe wouldn't hesitate to throw him out of the limo ass-first if he did. Across from him, Ohtori drops his candy like it's radioactive.

"What," says Ohtori. Fuji (the younger) is sitting nearby and his grimace is sympathetic in the way of someone who has lived through the same experience of being manipulated by Mizuki like a hand puppet—note: the implied hand-up-the-ass-mindrape . Fuji Jr. pauses in his game to kindly and awkwardly pat the traumatized Ohtori on the shoulder until Shishido catches on and pulls Ohtori away with a growl.

Meanwhile, Mizuki has coaxed Jiroh awake by popping bits of candy into his mouth and the sleepy teen is looking up at him for more like a seal clapping for more fish.

Mizuki is speaking in a syrupy voice. "Say ah...In it goes! Wouldn't you like some more Jiroh-kun? Wouldn't you like to make some sweet sweet music with me and my band?"

Everyone in the limo shudders at the innuendos laced through this dialogue.

At the sight of the increasingly constipated look on the other band leader's face, Kaneda looks worried and he whispers to his band mates, "How much longer do you think we have before they drop us on the side of the road?"

Akazawa says honestly over his cards, "I'm surprised they haven't kicked us out yet."

"The look on Hat Hair's face when Mizuki was propositioning the tall kid was brutal," Nomura adds fearfully, not having learnt the other band members' names because he couldn't look at them long enough to memorize them. The reception when they had boarded the limo had been so cold Nomura was sure they would single him out (correctly) as the weakest member of his band and eat his liver.

Yuuta gives Nomura a long look before he says, "Excuse me, senpai," and reaches for the older boy's forehead.

Nomura is wide-eyed and stammering when Yuuta brings his hand away and says triumphantly, "Like I thought, you're running a temperature, senpai!"

The others exchange Looks and Atsushi says blandly, "Well, between Fuji Syuusuke and Mizuki I would be more surprised if Yuuta-kun didn't lose some sense of personal boundaries."

As if on cue from the other end of the limo they hear Mizuki say delightedly, "Oh no, don't lick my fingers! You naughty boy!"

They pale and Kaneda says plaintively, "That's nauseating."

Too late do Atsushi and Yuuta leap at him because it's as their hands slap over his mouth that they hear a groan from the wilted figure of Yanagizawa, who has been breathing in a paper bag in the corner for nearly the entire car ride.

"So wrong, da ne. I think I'm going to be sick, da ne," moans Yanagizawa, and considering he has been complaining of car sickness the entire trip, they take him seriously and scoot as far away as they can in the limited space.

Atsushi is probably the least sympathetic to his duet partner and delicately nudges him the other way with his foot as he says, "Don't you puke on me, Shinya, or I will make you regret it. This is a new fucking ribbon."

Atobe, already seething over Mizuki's antics, hears Atsushi and pointing from his center seat at the back of the limo, booms, "DON'T YOU DARE DEFILE MY VEHICLE!" His tone makes everyone jump, which he notes with no little satisfaction.

Snapping his fingers, Atobe says, "Kabaji."

"Usu."

"Get that wavy-haired buffoon away from Jiroh before he cons him into selling his soul," Atobe orders with dismissive wave of his hand at Mizuki.

"I beg your pardon!" Mizuki squawks. "What! Unhand me, you brute!"

The Hyotei band watches avidly as Kabaji's hunched figure drags a wildly protesting Mizuki from one end of the limo to the other and unceremoniously drops him into the center of his band mates where they receive him with lukewarm cheer.

"Nicely done, Atobe." Oshitari claps lightly as the others send rare looks of gratitude at their band leader.

Before Atobe can start preening though, they hear quite clearly from the other side of the limo, "You are a strong boy, aren't you? Wouldn't you like to play a bit longer? Oniisan can teach you a lot of fun things."

"Kabaji!" Atobe shrieks.

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A cell phone beeps and Atobe is nursing a headache that feels like his brain is fighting tooth and nail to exit his skull so he doesn't realize that it is his until it beeps again.

"What now," Atobe says in utter exhaustion from the events of the night. Kabaji is still looking oddly doe-eyed after his encounter with Mizuki, which may or may not interfere with his playing tomorrow and Atobe is in no state himself to conduct the proper damage control.

His eye twitches as he hears sounds of card-playing from the St. Rudolph side of the limo ("Goddammit, Atsushi! I know you have a queen because there are no more cards left!" "I said GO FISH motherfucker!") and Atobe wishes again that his great self could be selfish enough for once to throw out the noisy invaders.

Atobe flips open his phone with a Byronic air, tragic but graceful pose against the back seat, heavy sigh and all. He cuts the act when he sees that both the messages are from Fuji Syuusuke and that the first is a video. He reads the text of the second message first and is so focused that he doesn't hear the odd conversation that his band mates are having, which goes as such:

"…Do you guys see what I'm seeing?"

"Hard to say, Shishido. You wouldn't happen to mean the six-story-tall fire that those fire trucks are attempting to spray down?"

"No need to be such a smartass, four-eyes."

"Hey hey, look the fire's growing onto that tree! Wow look at it go!"

"...Jiroh-senpai, that's a telephone pole."

"Oh."

Silence. Then a chorus of hisses.

"Ooh, that sucks."

"Poor unlucky bastards. Thank God we don't live here, ne Yuushi?"

"Indeed. I wonder what they did to receive such bad luck."

"Mah, poor people have a lot of bad luck apparently."

"I'll pray for them."

"Choutarou, you can't solve poverty through prayer."

"...I can try."

Having read Fuji's ambiguous message, Atobe clicks to the video next and jaw-drops when the image first pops up. It plays for a whole three minutes, in which Fuji helpfully focuses the camera on just one face in particular even though there is obviously much going on in the background. The video ends right after it springs to an alarming view of what looks like a kitchen ablaze.

This explains Fuji's message of, Everyone's safe. Hope I can have a crack at that Steinway now! ;D 3 3 3

Grinning like a fool, Atobe replays the video and thinks yes, Fuji will definitely get his Steinway.

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"What is this madness," says Ryoma the next morning, eye twitching.

"Don't let your guard down," Tezuka intones, seemingly unruffled by the long wig he sports, but Ryoma has mastered enough Tezuka!speak to hear the silent, "Don't provoke them! Fuji is listening in as we speak!"

Ryoma shudders as the hairs on the back of his neck go up and he knows that if he turns around Fuji will be standing behind him like a smiley demon. Ryoma and Tezuka trudge down the side of the highway in silence, their shoulders heavy with burden.

They look like the world's saddest Loveless cosplay couple, drooping cat ears and all.

"Hey you two, cheer up! We'll never get a car to stop if you guys look so depressing nya!"

When Ryoma and Tezuka simultaneously glance up, Kikumaru yips and runs to hide behind Oishi. "S-Scary!" Kikumaru wails as Oishi tries to calm him down by promising him ice cream and cookies when they reach the festival.

Momo pops up to poke at Ryoma's side to the boy's intense displeasure. "Eiji-senpai's right, you know. If you don't want to stay in these outfits all day you have to flag down a car, and who's going to stop for hitchhikers that look like they want to gut something?" Momo carefully doesn't look at Tezuka as he speaks because he would melt into a puddle of peach-butt under Tezuka's fearsome stare. Echizen though is free reign because no matter how hard he tries to be a mini-Tezuka he's still the perfect cuddle height for anyone to take too seriously, a fact that Echizen is unfortunately extremely aware of because he easily elbows Momo aside when the taller teen goes in for a spontaneous glomp and noogie.

"So not cute at all!" Momo pouts and slinks away to rouse Kaidou into their daily fight, and soon the sound of their shouting fills the air.

Fuji frowns at the scuffling pair. "Mou, no car's going to give us a ride with those two reenacting Fight Club behind us."

"At this rate, there's a 25% chance that we will reach the festival grounds in time for our performance. Although there is a 41% chance of us reaching the festival today at all," Inui says.

Kawamura says glumly, "We're not going to be able to perform today, are we?" He clenches his hands around the straps of his backpack and Fuji knows that mostly Kawamura is feeling guilty because his father let him take off work for two days to go to the festival.

"Keep your head up, Taka-san," Fuji says as he pats Kawamura's shoulder comfortingly, and then he turns to Inui, who promptly adjusts his glasses in nervousness.

"Ne, Inui-kun," Fuji says as his blue gaze leaves him to sweep across the group and land on their own cosplay couple. "How high will the percentage go if I can persuade those two to act their parts properly?"

Inui scribbles the equations quickly and when he looks up a pleased smile starts to spread across his face. "It looks like almost a 30% increase," Inui says with satisfaction.

Fuji grins and stalks off for the pair like a lion with deer in its sights.

A few moments pass before there's the howl of "YADDA!"

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Ryoma twitches when another wolf whistle is thrown their way from a passing car. "I know why no one's giving us a ride. It's because the only people that enjoy this kind of stuff are perverts," Ryoma growls around his fake smile, making it look more like he's grimacing around a rotten lemon.

"Ah," says Tezuka in agreement and they both try to ignore how closely they're pressed together, having been handcuffed wrist to opposite wrist by Fuji. Tezuka's left hand is handcuffed to Echizen's left and his arm is stretched out and hidden behind Echizen's back underneath his jacket so it looks like Tezuka is hugging the boy against his body on purpose.

"Fuji-senpai is evil," Ryoma declares, to which the drummer agrees solidly with another "Ah."

They're leading the procession down the highway side, fully aware of the seven pairs of eyes behind them watching and waiting in case they try to run away again, which Tezuka has once and Ryoma has eight times. The rest are waving merrily at passing cars and toting signs that say, "Musicians in need of transportation!" "Please help!" and "Ritsuka and Soubi need a ride!"

"Tezuka, Ryoma-chan, big smiles!" Fuji calls, making the two shudder.

Oishi says encouragingly, "Keep it up! You can do it!"

"FANTASTIC! BURNING!" goes Kawamura, pumping his Ritsuka❤Soubi sign in his own brand of encouragement.

Momo, who has been carrying his own guitar as well as Ryoma's over his shoulder for the past three miles, loudly says, "Don't know why you guys are complaining so much, all you have to do is walk!"

"Fshhhhh!" says Kaidou, who has it worse as he is hunchbacked over with the weight of his bass guitar and Tezuka's guitar and hand drum kit strapped to his back.

Inui says, "It is your own fault for fighting when we were short on time. At least it's good training."

Kaidou looks suitably disbelieving and says, "For what?"

"Endurance of course. You should be able to go 1.25 hours longer on stage without collapsing."

"We wouldn't play until that point!" Momo and Kaidou shout unanimously and then growl at each other. "Don't copy me!"

"Eiji, no one will be able to read your sign like that," Fuji scolds gently as Kikumaru cartwheels past, the sign taped to his back flapping like a pair of small square wings.

"Hoi, hoi! Too bad, so sad, see you next week!" Kikumaru cries jubilantly right before he miscalculates his direction and cartwheels into the highway in front of the oncoming cars.

"EIJI!"

A little later, they're either crouched or sitting around their instruments in a familiar situation.

"Does anyone feel like there's a pattern to all this?" Echizen asks as the band watches Tezuka talk to a police officer who is failing horribly at trying to hide his furtive glances at Tezuka's ensemble of long brown wig and trench coat over bare chest which, with the hand-cuffs dangling noticeably off his wrist, completes his image as an S&M player.

"The bad luck has been unusually persistent," says Inui, already doing the calculations for the average increase.

"It's like we're cursed!" Kikumaru says petulantly with his arms around Oishi, who still has his hand over his heart as if he's trying to keep it from bursting out of his ribcage. The bass player went practically catatonic when Kikumaru cartwheeled into the road and subsequently caused a small pile up and backed up traffic for miles.

"Eiji-senpai, that wasn't bad luck. That was just you being careless," says Momo, making the redhead promptly deflate and apologize mournfully as he squeezes his Oishi-pillow closer to him.

"I'm sorry, everyone!"

"Mah mah, at least no one was hurt. And Taka-san did do just as bad when he razed that diner to the ground," says Fuji glibly, making Kawamura blush tomato-red.

Kawamura rubs the back of his neck as he says, "You don't have to say it like that, Fujiko."

"Actually," Echizen speaks up, grabbing their attention, "I didn't mean bad luck when I was talking about a pattern. Doesn't anyone notice bad things always happen when our band tries to travel?"

"You mean the continuous string of unfortunate events?" Inui says.

Kaidou mutters loud enough for them to hear. "Like anyone could miss that."

Echizen rolls his eyes, and the arrogance is all his but the holier-than-thou tint to his voice speaks of Atobe's influence when he says, "Then doesn't anyone consider that it's not just dangerous when we travel but that we are dangerous when we travel?"

His words are met with aghast silence.

Inui nudges his glasses as he says diplomatically, "Well, there is that."

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"You are late," Atobe drawls when he sees them, and then he gapes. "What on Earth are you wearing?"

Ryoma glares, at the end of his rope. "Don't talk, Monkey King."

"Are you—is that Loveless cosplay?"

"Shut up! Go away!"

"It's a long story, Keigo-kun."

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The concert is a success and near the end of it everyone is brimming with energy, Kikumaru so much that he bounces around the stage like a madman and inevitably ends up falling into the crowd, which swallows him with a roar. Only Seigaku looks unperturbed by this because it happens at least once every concert and in one memorable night it happened five times.

The final song is one all the bands participate in and Atobe, being Atobe, monopolizes the walkway that leads from the stage into the audience as a catwalk before tearing off the Soubi-coat he borrowed from Tezuka like a stripper and crooning into the screaming crowd. To Atobe's credit, the crowd goes impossibly wild after that.

Considering the heated looks the Hyotei leader has been sending Ryoma all night, no one (including Ryoma) is surprised when he drags him away to an empty room after the performance ends.

"You are such a show off," Ryoma says as soon as the door closes behind them and Atobe is standing too close for comfort before him.

"What? No, never mind that," Atobe says dismissively. He places his arm against the door above Ryoma's head and does an impromptu demonstration of his looming skills. "You needed a ride to the festival. Did you not consider my offer of transportation at all?"

Ryoma tries not to look discomfited by the close proximity as he retorts, "I heard you already had plenty in your car."

Caught off guard, Atobe leans back and Ryoma is silently relieved with the extra breathing space.

Atobe says suspiciously, "Who told you that?"

Ryoma shrugs. "No one. I heard Fuji-senpai and Oshitari-san gossiping about it."

Atobe scoffs but says almost fondly, "Those old maids."

"They were saying that Mizuki from St. Rudolph was trying to steal your members after you picked up their band on the way here," Ryoma says with such clear skepticism that the diva crosses his arms and replies archly,

"You mean how I invited a ghoul into our midst out of the goodness of my glorious heart only to turn around and find out he had a taste for musical flesh?"

The image startles a laugh out of Ryoma, and the look in his eyes when he looks up next is appraising. "Heeeh, so you can do nice things."

"Clearly," Atobe says, but he looks slightly pleased. "How I wish you had overcome that stubborness of yours to accept my generous offer. Seigaku would have been marginally less aggravating than St. Rudolph and its despicable manager."

"I thought you and Mizuki would have been like two peas in a pod. You're both arrogant enough for it," Ryoma says through his lashes and Atobe abruptly looks pained.

"Before this catastrophe I actually applauded that wavy-haired bastard's bloodthirstiness, having constructed his band almost entirely of members stolen from other groups. Had I known his bloodlust for musicians was not so much bloody as lusty..." He trails off with a delicate shudder.

Ryoma snickers. "Why didn't you just kick him out?"

"Why didn't you call when your car broke down?" Atobe sharply counters.

Ryoma huffs. "Just because you're too prissy to hitchhike doesn't mean we are," Ryoma says petulantly. "Why were you even taking a car anyways? I thought you were jetting here."

Atobe looks properly disgruntled. "We were until my great aunt demanded that my mother visit her or she would die and curse our family for as many generations as her ill intent could last. My mother took my jet and since my father was using the family jet for business in China, I was left with no choice but to take the limo," Atobe says with a distaste that Ryoma literally cannot comprehend considering what he went through in the last 48 hours.

"You realize I was hitchhiking for two days."

Atobe raises an eyebrow and says loftily, "I do recall offering your band a ride to the festival. Had you taken me up on my charity neither of us would have had such difficulty in the first place. After all, my limo certainly would not have broken down leaving your band with no choice but to hitchhike, and with your presence there wouldn't have been enough space for St. Rudolph to squat in and make an utter mess of my band."

"You're blaming me for this?" Ryoma says in disbelief.

"Kabaji may not recover from his encounter with Mizuki. You should take responsibility as is appropriate," Atobe informs him gravely.

Ryoma makes a face and opens his mouth to say something appallingly rude and blunt as is his norm but Atobe takes that exact moment to lean in and seal his mouth over those parted lips and hopes dearly that Echizen doesn't do something like kick Atobe between the legs, which seems at this point a very Echizen-like move.

To Atobe's pleasant surprise, Ryoma kisses back after a long stunned moment and when he pulls away the boy has a proper blush splashed over his cheeks.

Atobe tries not to look too smug and fails miserably because Ryoma promptly scowls and taunts, "Monkey King."

"Now don't start that," Atobe chastises and leans in to peck him again. The diva's smirk becomes impossible when Ryoma immediately pulls him in again by his red shirt for another, and the next time they break apart Ryoma is not the only one that's a bit flushed in the face.

Ryoma is wearing an embellished tank top so Atobe's fingers touch bare skin when he closes them around his arms and the effect is jarring.

"That wasn't for Kabaji too was it?" Ryoma asks idly, making Atobe choke.

"Absolutely not! I was taking my compensation for all the unpleasantness you have caused since you refused me," Atobe says haughtily and then gives Ryoma a sly smile. "So take that as a lesson to refuse me as little as possible."

"Che!" Ryoma looks over Atobe's shoulder and tries to will the heat from his face to no avail.

"Now that I have the real thing in front of me, that video seems so paltry in comparison," Atobe muses as he lazily takes in the view and Ryoma glances up, eyes heavy with wariness.

"What video?"

Moments later, Ryoma's look of curiousity crumples into horror because he's looking at his own red face on Atobe's camera phone and the tinny voices are disturbingly familiar.

"Don't take my picture, Fuji-senpai!"

"Ryo-chan looked so adorable though! Stay still so the camera can catch your face properly."

"IT WASN'T A PICTURE?!" Ryoma screeches at Atobe.

.

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AN: Instead of doing my readings like a good student or working on my chaptered works like a good fanficcer, I spent three days being plagued by band crack ideas and made this. Cheers~