Disclaimer: Konomi would either be appalled if he found this. Anipuri animators would sue me for stealing their crack. Joy.
Warnings: HOMOSEXUAL FIVESOME. SanaTezuAtoFujiRyo. If that hurts your brain or ties your morals into nasty little knots, then avoid reading further at all costs. This author is a twisted little person and cannot ensure stability of readers' minds. Sanity will not be refunded.
Author's Notes: Wanted to end the year with something twisted. Ha. Unfortunately my partner-in-OT5-crime, exwaiz, is in Singapore and therefore can't transplant her half of the OT5 crack from her LJ to here. Wasn't sure when would be an appropriate time to hatch this, but seeing that starsniper broke the ice already (hugs and hearts to you for taking the initiative and prodding me off my lazy bum), decided that New Year's Eve would do just fine.
Was released hurriedly on my writing journal a few weeks ago because I was trying to convert meitachi to OT5 greatness. But between now and then, I had time to revise, so there shouldn't be too many discrepancies. I hope.
Certification of Sanitation - 1
by kasugai gummie
It takes two to tango. Three to crowd. Four to party. And five to orgy.
It wasn't often they saw each other long enough to eat together.
Fuji's photography classes were almost always held during the afternoon, or evenings; Tezuka was busy as an intern at the University's hospital and athletic trainer; Atobe's studies in law and politics demanded a good three fourths of his daylight hours and another half of his nocturnal minutes; Sanada's double duties as kendo captain and assistant tennis coach, in addition to his regular studies, didn't make things any better—having pretty much robbed him of his mornings, afternoons, and evenings.
That left Echizen, whose continued proactive obsession with tennis (something he once admitted—privately—was second only to what he held for each of his four significant others), coupled with his double major in English and international politics, didn't help with the conflicting schedules.
After the first few months of hectic agendas and irate lovers, the five youths soon came to realize that dates, such as those of major holidays and freak class cancellations, were literal gifts from god. The red sharpie hearts that decorated their apartment's main calendar, accompanied with the occasional "Make way for God's gift to Orgy-kind" subtext (courtesy of Fuji), said so.
However, getting to spend quality time together didn't come without its price either. In their relationship, (a delightfully, convoluted, five-way romance,) schedules weren't the only conflicting things.
"Where are we going tonight?" Sanada asked their youngest as they all waited outside the elevator door.
"... WcDonalds."
His announcement was met with a variety of surprise, calm acceptance, curiosity, and utter horror. Oddly enough though, nobody really wanted to voice their thoughts on the revelation. In fact, it took Atobe a full minute to break the disbelieving silence.
"This is only the third time our schedules allows us to go out together and you want us to spend our time and money in a fast food restaurant?"
Ryoma shrugged dismissively, ignoring both the diva's exasperated, but elegant, expression and Fuji's amused smile.
Tezuka, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know money was an issue, Keigo."
Atobe bristled. "That wasn't what I was referring to, Kunimitsu."
A displeased frown tilted the other's lips at the blatant challenge. Crossing his arms over his chest, Tezuka leveled a measuring stare at the equally belligerent Hyoutei alumni.
"Can we please save the foreplay until we're behind locked doors? I don't think the world is quite ready for us yet," Sanada muttered, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow as two distinctively forceful stares swiveled to pin their focus on him.
Soft chuckles emanated from beside him. "But where's the fun in that, Genichirou? Besides, how do you know whether or not the world is ready yet?" Fuji smiled archly up at the taller Rikkai graduate. "I really don't think the little old lady next door would mind all that much... fan-service, you understand."
Another pause accompanied the ping of opening doors as four pairs of eyes turned to stare at the smiling boy.
"... let's not go there, please." Tezuka pinched the bridge of his nose wearily.
Ryoma watched the distorted reflections of his lovers thoughtfully as the polished doors slid close effortlessly.
Obviously there was a conflict in interests, in schedules, and most importantly...
"Do you have ANY idea of what goes on in a fast food restaurant?"
There was this big, glaring conflict in taste.
"Yes."
Atobe glared at his protégé. "And you still insist on WcDonalds? Despite knowing how questionable their standards are for sanitation and health? Good god, the grease they use, then REUSE. And how do you even know if what they sell as meat, is in fact meat?"
"... we don't. And that's what makes eating there exciting." The smirk that accompanied the drawl was nothing if not mocking. It was also being mirrored by the ex-tennis prodigy who had draped himself across the youngest boy's shoulders.
The law-major glanced skyward. "Ore-sama is Not Amused," he stated flatly.
Tezuka took off his glasses to inspect them resignedly while their two shortest indulged in riling up the dark-haired diva. Doing his best to simply ignore the muted sounds of amusement, Tezuka shared a mildly suffering look with the only other sane member in their little group... although at this point in life, calling any of them "sane" was of questionable judgment.
As the tinny bell chimed to signal their stop and the double metal doors slid open, Ryoma quickly disentangled himself from the former prodigy's grasp, brushing past a still-peeved Atobe, and headed out the parlor in order to methodically head off any other possible arguments against their destination. Having managed to smooth over his anticipatory smirk before their resident diva grew even more suspicious (and as a result, more opposed to the sole destination choice), the tawny-eyed youth readied himself for the challenge he set for himself.
After the previous two (disastrous) attempts at dating as five young men in a mutual relationship, it was really no wonder that suspicion had flown rampant. All the possible scenarios of how the night could end (in disaster) weren't providing any optimistic expectations.
Their first date had had the fortune of dealing with odd eating habits. It was during their trip to Kawamura Takashi's Sushi shop, arranged by Fuji, that what was already common knowledge to Ryoma and Tezuka was also made clear to both Atobe and Sanada.
Fuji liked spicy foods.
In fact, he liked wasabi doctored dishes so much that anything going his way was considered a strong contestant for the critics' "Most Inedible," or the "Most Similar to Nuclear Waste" award. During that first outing, their sadistic fifth had managed to get a few wasabi concoctions past Tezuka's and Ryoma's defenses, and from there, onto Atobe's and Sanada's taste buds before all hell broke loose. It was after that particular episode in their relationship that the other four boys decided to never, ever, allow Fuji near anything that had do to with food. Of which included the general vicinity of the kitchen.
For the good of the world, of course.
Their second time dining together (as a normal loving fivesome) was dictated by Atobe. Never quite getting over the trauma of eating wasabi rolls without having previously removing his taste buds with a cauterizing surgical appliance, Atobe insisted that they go to a newly opened French establishment, a ridiculously expensive place where he could be certain that wasabi was relatively alien. Their egotistic lover somehow coerced them all into dressing for the occasion too; formal evening wear—starched button-up shirt included.
Not even Ryoma escaped the fashion demands of one Atobe Keigo.
That particular dinner affair was formal, stilted, and hellishly scary when they discovered that Fuji, being the prodigy at Life he was, had anticipated Atobe's choice and brought his own tube of wasabi.
The damage done to the silverware was extensive, the glassware shocking, the linens a nightmare, and was an overall expensive event—the maître d's trauma expenses and therapy sessions not included.
So to be fair, it was really no wonder why Atobe looked as if Sanada had accidentally thrown his dark blue cap into the whites wash; no wonder why both Sanada and Tezuka looked kind of disturbed, as if they'd forgotten their respective bottles of aspirin.
And now, with the luck of the draw, it was Ryoma's turn to decide their digestive-fates.
End Chapter 1
Completed: 11/27/04
Revised: 08/05/05