Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters: Sanada, Atobe
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The boys are Konomi Takeshi's, not mine.
Warnings: It'll be long and takes place in future, and is thus a little AU-ish.
Notes: Takes place in Japanese – American Goodwill Junior Invitational Tournament, in Atobe -Sanada doubles match.

Beta read by the lovely cimorene (at LJ)! Many thanks to her! ♥

Hope you enjoy reading it!

Tango towards destruction

'Life is like a shooting star
It don't matter who you are
If you only run for cover, it's just a waste of time
We are lost 'til we are found
This phoenix rises up from the ground
And all these wars are over'

Dolphins cry – Live

Prologue

It was different, definitely different.

He had played doubles before with Yuushi, and sometimes with Jirou. But it had never been like this. This time he felt like a part of something, like he belonged to something. It was scary. He was a singles player. He liked to play it out without anybody's help. His upbringing had left him decidedly unaccustomed to relying on other people.

He was a lonely star and he liked to shine alone, without anybody to compete with him for the spotlight, without anybody seeking to complete him.

It was strange, yet still oddly comforting, to know that he wouldn't have to face the possibility of failure alone, that there was somebody there to watch his back. It was alluringly easy to fall back on that support, for the opponents this time were truly strong.

The problem was that his supposed partner wasn't actually there whenever the ball managed to get past him. Their dynamic was completely off. But he had managed alone this far and he would still.

It wasn't like he needed anybody's help!

He was extremely perceptive, able to see his opponents' weaknesses clearly, but there were two of them this time, which made beating them alone fairly impossible. He knew his own strength, and realized that Sanada was equally strong, but their combination was still in its newborn state, too fragile to match the teamwork of the old married couple on the other side of the net.

Sanada was somewhere behind him, where it was impossible for Atobe to see. And it made him feel edgy, because even though he wasn't able to pinpoint Sanada's location every moment, he could strangely almost feel his partner. It was like there was some unnatural connection binding him to Sanada with iron shackles.

The air was pregnant with whispered invitations, soft unspoken questions, unreadable signs of possible collision. It was in the air, harsh breathing and heavy intakes before lightning-fast swings. It was in the scents that filled his nostrils: not the familiar tennis court grass or chalk from the white lines, not even the enthusiasm of the crowd, but the earthy scents of sweat and warm skin and the pureness of the fabric softener that smelled like green tea and oranges. And it was in the sounds that filled his ears with steady sharpness: low grunts from returning a heavy ball; an almost nonexistent, soft humming that Sanada probably wasn't even aware he was making. It was there. An invitation to dance. An outstretched hand and a count to four, a rhythm that matched the blood throbbing in his veins. It was there to lure him into the pace that would carry them both.

But it was different from his own pace, and he was stubborn this way. It was his way or no way.

But Sanada wouldn't surrender to his lead either. Sanada was also a loner, maybe even more than him. And it was so frighteningly clear to him, for he could sense Sanada in a way he had never sensed anybody before, like the other half of himself. Could Sanada read him too?

The thought was terrifying to the point of confusing and distracting. It happened so rarely anymore that his concentration faltered that he didn't recognize what was happening until it was too late, and the ball bounced right past his ear before he could react.

"Atobe," his partner murmured, frustrated. Well, who wouldn't be? He knew he was edgy and ready to explode into violence at the slightest provocation.

"Shut up!" he snapped, a little too forcefully perhaps. But he didn't need anybody to tell him what to do. It was his way or no way! But he hated losing, and lose he would if something didn't happen soon.

And they did dance - reached for each other and held on tight. He felt odd, wild joy streaming through him when he finally answered the call of the rhythm. He lost himself completely in the pace that tied them together and embraced the new bond found there, stopped thinking and just reacted to the other's movements with the instinct that was in the rhythmic throbbing of his blood. He danced effortlessly, completing his partner's movements with his own, and he felt beautiful.

He felt complete.

Sanada was a perfect partner, performing his part of the dance with uncharacteristic politeness and ease, supporting with comforting composure, never allowing his hold on Atobe to slip. It was new. It was thrillingly exciting. And it was over too soon.

"Game and match, Atobe - Sanada, seven games to five."

The roar of the crowd was surprising and made him feel a little dizzy. He was still in the game, and felt oddly disappointed to realize that it was over. Their dance had come to an end.

He meekly followed Sanada's lead and clasped hands with the other players, putting on a mask of indifference. It was an understatement to say that this felt anticlimactic. He felt deceived - betrayed, even. Sanada was acting so cool and distant, like there hadn't been that amazing contact between them just a few moments ago.

"What were you mumbling about Tezuka when you were serving?" Sanada's hard gaze was on him, like hot steel slashing against his weary eyes.

"What? Tezuka?" What the hell was his problem? "Yeah, I wanted to save that serve for the next game with Tezuka." He smirked at the thought of the surprised expression Tezuka would have made when he used his new ace. Well, he had practically ruined that possibility just now. But no matter; he could always come up with a new one to amaze Tezuka with.

"You have some odd obsession for Tezuka, Atobe. That's not healthy." Sanada was not looking at him anymore, his gaze fixed steadily on the bag he was packing.

"What do you know about my obsessions, Sanada?" Who the hell did he think he was? "Somebody has to teach the boy some manners." The smug grin that had faded for a moment was back on his face and he chuckled softly to himself.

"You think you're up to it?" Sanada murmured under his breath, but without much force.

"Why wouldn't I be? I have beaten him once already." It was oddly comforting to banter with Sanada about Tezuka.

"So what's the point in doing it again?" Sanada whipped him with one heated glare before turning to stalk away.

He trailed after the lean form of Sanada, feeling numb. Why was he being so cold? They had won, hadn't they? He didn't hear the cheers and congratulations of their team-mates when they passed by on their way to showers. Only the tiny glimmer of soft amusement in Oshitari's eyes held his interest for a moment before he headed to the changing rooms well ahead of Sanada.

It was not like him to pass the opportunity to bask in the warmth of praise. But he couldn't enjoy his victory as coldly as Sanada, and it was not his accomplishment alone. It would have felt wrong to accept all the adulation for himself.

No, that was not right. He felt empty. The victory felt like nothing without the excitement Sanada should have been sharing with him. What was wrong with him? He didn't feel like himself, and it was frustrating as hell.

He threw his racquet to the bench and undressed with swift, restless movements, throwing his shirt almost angrily to the floor before bending to untie his shoelaces.

It was unbearable. He was still worked up to the point of irritation from the game. The adrenalin pounded through him still like a hammer, nailing his senses a notch too high, and readiness to move made him jumpy.

He felt like a deer in a headlight.

Yes. A nice, hopefully long, hot shower would do him good. Maybe he would be able to relax a bit. It would have been better if he could have found some other outlet for his anxiety, but somehow Sanada's coldness and his own unwillingness to celebrate had rendered him empty, too numb to even think about it.

Somewhere along the path of his thoughts he started to become angry. He had earned this victory! He had worked so hard to achieve it!

He heard the door being pushed open and glanced under his bangs at Sanada, who went on calmly undressing and then picked up his towel from his bag. He straightened himself and glared at his infuriatingly relaxed partner, then fumed when he was completely ignored.

That bastard! How dared Sanada deny him the glory of victory through his half-hearted attitude of dispassion? He should have been thrilled to no end just to have the opportunity to play with him. Why was he acting so cold?

He knew there was a fire under that calm exterior, and he felt insulted that the other didn't share its flame with him. He felt used. But thinking of it like that, it wasn't surprising. All he had ever felt from Sanada was used.

It was difficult to read him even though just minutes ago he had felt so close to the other boy. In the Junior Selection Camp, where they had shared a room for a while, Sanada had pushed him around like nobody ever had before, and now he was doing it again. Infuriating bastard!

The kiss Sanada had forced on him had stayed in his mind as a confusing memory, one which bubbled up now as he watched the taller boy's lean, naked body walk to the showers, gorgeous as ever, strong and muscular.

He let his heated gaze travel down the lean back, caressing the narrow hips with his eyes, marveling at the smooth bronze of the skin. And blinked twice, perplexed when the door to the showers slammed shut forcefully against his fixed gaze. A bit touchy today, hmm?

During the Junior Selection Camp Sanada had pushed him against the wall and kissed him almost feverishly, thrusting his tongue into his mouth, claiming the response that had roused in Atobe with strong hands, molding their bodies together. Atobe remembered the heat that had rushed through him with a wild thrill and weakened his knees to boneless, soft, shaking flesh.

And just when he'd been going to kiss him back, Sanada had pulled away and thrown him some half-hearted insult, freezing his whole world for a moment.

There he had been, all but melting into the other's embrace, and Sanada was just toying with him, pushing him around.

The next morning he had learned that Sanada had somehow managed to exchange rooms with Yanagi Renji. And what bliss it had been to room with the data collector! He had felt like all his movements were measured and saved for later use. Which probably had been exactly the case.

Sanada had been a pig, but really quite an amusing pig. Yanagi was just deadly boring. He found then that he terribly missed their banter, which had not been so bad, though it'd driven him mad occasionally. Yanagi, although pretty to look at, had been awfully quiet. Sanada was gorgeous, and he had the most delicious body - Atobe couldn't possibly have gotten enough of looking at that.

He would have chosen Sanada over Yanagi any day of the year.

They hadn't spoken about the kiss, or anything else at that, since then. Sanada was as cold to him as he always had been. Atobe was sure that he had been toyed with. And that was unacceptable!

He was Atobe Keigo and nobody pushed him around!

He would have thought that Sanada was not one to pull that kind of trick; but what do you know? He might have been wrong. There was always a first time for everything, and he was prepared for anything.

All in all, the kiss was something he really didn't understand at all, as wonderful as it had been. He hadn't hidden the fact that he liked boys as much as girls, so it couldn't have been intended to pull that rope. And Sanada had never mentioned it to anybody, as far as he knew. It had only been the one kiss, so Sanada wasn't courting him or anything like that.

He felt the sparkle of laughter building inside him. Sanada Genichirou courting Atobe Keigo? Hell would probably freeze over before that would happen. And Shishido would wear pink women's underwear before Sanada would admit that he had fallen under the spell of Atobe Keigo. Not that it couldn't happen. Even Sanada couldn't resist his charms if he wanted the other to look at him. And Shishido would look rather adorable in pink.

He let a sultry smirk play over his lips as he tossed the rest of his clothing carelessly onto the bench and walked slowly to the showers. Well, he just had to admit it. Sanada Genichirou was a complete mystery to him. But what a handsome and alluring mystery.

He opened the door, chuckling softly to himself, and let his gaze wander the shower rooms, looking for the delicious bronze god that he knew should have been there washing himself busily.

He had to stop and take in the sight laid out before him for a moment before he could think straight again.

Sanada's muscular form was leaning against the tiled wall, his eyes closed and his lean body relaxed. His face was serene, smooth chest heaving with deep breaths, hands flattened against the wall beside his body, coal black hair streaming over his forehead, his body glimmering under the water droplets.

Atobe shut the door behind him silently, letting his gaze wander down Sanada's strong body, stopping at his semi-hard cock. He raised one amused eyebrow and a wicked grin touched his lips.

Well, this was something interesting. What do you know? Sanada Genichirou was having an after game hard-on, like any other mortal.

He forced himself not to touch his own hardening length and stilled one needy moan that was about to escape from his lips. Maybe he could have his revenge now.

He made his way carefully across the tiled floor, walking silently so that the other wouldn't notice him too soon. For a moment he just hovered beside Sanada, letting his gaze wander over the other's beautiful body, greedily watching every hard breath that slipped through Sanada's slightly parted lips. Then he reached out and brushed his hand over that muscular chest, teasing one nipple along the way.

Before Sanada could react, he pushed himself against the long lean body and pressed his mouth against the other's, letting out a soft whimper that was muffled by the soft, wet lips. His other hand wound around Sanada's shoulder and went to his neck, circling nimble fingers gently in the damp, short hair just behind the taller boy's ear. His other hand found its way to Sanada's slim waist, travelled down to narrow hips and grappled that tanned skin in an almost bruising hold.

He hungrily swallowed the surprised gasps from the other boy's lips and leaned closer, pushing his tongue inside the velvety heat that was Sanada's mouth. He felt the oddly familiar burning rising inside him and ground his hips against Sanada's, feeling his hard length sliding against Sanada's.

Then Sanada was kissing him back, capturing the needy whimpers that escaped from his lips, and he felt strong, shower-warm hands land on his back and pull him even harder against the lean form that was driving him crazier by the moment. A tongue was battling his own and he let it slide into his mouth, greedily sucking, savouring the unfamiliar flavours of the slick heat.

He hungrily swallowed the surprised gasps from the other boy's lips and leaned closer, pushing his tongue inside the velvety heat that was Sanada's mouth. He felt the oddly familiar burning rising inside him and ground his hips against Sanada's, feeling his hard length sliding against Sanada's.

Then Sanada was kissing him back, capturing the needy whimpers that escaped from his lips, and he felt strong, shower-warm hands land on his back and pull him even harder against the lean form that was driving him crazier by the moment. A tongue was battling his own and he let it slide into his mouth, greedily sucking, savouring the unfamiliar flavours of the slick heat.

"What do you mean, what am I doing?" He felt irritation beginning to melt his lust away. "I was kissing you! Are you stupid? I knew you were hard-headed, but I never guessed you'd be this clueless!" He felt like shouting, but held his voice to a low purr that he knew must piss Sanada off royally.

"Whatever." Sanada stormed past him, throwing him one heated glare. "Don't play your games with me, Atobe! I'm not one to be pushed around!" And then the door slammed closed behind him.

Atobe was stunned. What the hell had just happened? He felt completely lost and confused. He put his head under the shower and tried to shake some sense into his head without really succeeding.

What the hell had just happened?

TBC