Dancing around

Tezuka stared down the long room with shinny parquet floor. He remained serious and unmoving. No, he refused to twitch his eyebrow in annoyance.

Atobe stood before him dressed in white. White jacket, white gloves, white knee-length breeches, white tight fitting long socks, and blindingly white shoes. He moved his eyes from the top of Atobe's head down to his soles and back up again. Atobe strutted leisurely towards him, showing off his toned figure, perfect straight-backed posture down to his shapely calves. Atobe smirked as he stopped to pose elegantly with a fencing foil tucked under his arm.

Tezuka tightened his grip on his tennis bag strap. "I am going home," he announced. He turned smartly on his heels and marched towards the door. He showed Atobe a back as straight and even more rigid than Atobe's.

A blur of white zoomed past him. He found himself stopped mid-stride with the tip of a foil an inch from his nose.

"Running away, ahn?"

"You invited the wrong person. If you want to dance around, you should have asked Sanada." With that, he flicked aside the tip and brushed past Atobe.

"Double entendre, Tezuka? Touché."

AN: Pointless one-shot because I suddenly have the urge to write Atobe in sexy form-fitting white suit and make references to Sanada's kendo and tango associations.