Title: Gifts Are Meant To Be Taken

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: AtoRyo; Hints of ShishiTori and OshiGaku

Warnings: Generic Perviness, boys being boys; Ryoma-torture; Overworked Clichés, Unbetad

A/N: Taking another quick break from LOA status to show my love for Hyotei's resident diva. I wrote this in one sitting, with a fresh lump on my head courtesy of the buttstock of a flying rifle, so yeah, things may turn out a bit spastic. Ahehehe. As if that explains anything.

Summary: The Hyotei regulars collaborate with Ryoma to make Atobe's birthday special.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Konomi Takeshi's.

Dedications: For firedraygon97 because I owe her an AtoRyo for pimping Elitists Royale.

October 4 is that time of the year which the Hyotei Regulars fret over the most.

To any casual observer, it would seem that the the team is dealing with an aggravating, grave matter, judging by the somber looks on their faces. And he/she would not be mistaken in the assumption for indeed, the boys are currently at a loss on how to overcome their annual dilemma.

Right now, they are seated in a circle on the lush Hyotei High school lawn, unspeaking and serious, as if engaging in a Mafia underground rendevouz that cannot be disturbed. Oshitari is tapping a pen on the notebook on his lap in an alarming stacatto pace, only pausing periodically to adjust his glasses. Hiyoshi is looking around at his senpais as if they'd gone collectively mad. Gakuto is testing the elsasticity of his hamstrings as he experiments on a painful-looking contortionist pose, though his expression mirrors Oshitari's contemplative one. Shishido is acting grumpy as usual and is only prevented from storming off by Ohtori, whose face hasn't lost its encouraging smile. Taki is busy keeping Jiroh awake by flashing magazine pictures of Fuji Syuusuke and Marui Bunta in tennis-tensai action.

Finally, Oshitari breaks the silence.

"So, what do we get Atobe?"

Taki glances sideways at him, chin propped up on one hand. "You just asked that question five minutes ago. And five minutes before that."

Oshitari shrugs. "Well no one seems to be volunteering any more bright ideas so I asked it again," he responds. He glances around expectantly at his teammates. "So, has anyone thought of anything yet?"

Everyone shakes his head.

It's not as if they don't have any suggestions- they have a lot actually. It's just that each suggestion is as unappealing as the rest, and not exactly geared to impress someone of Atobe's stature. Really, what does one get for the guy who has everything? For a desperately abused cliché, it's ironic that no one has a clear answer to it yet.

Some of the more eccentric suggestions included stroking their captain's monstrous ego by creating a skit where Atobe is the new occult icon, and the rest of the Hyotei team are his loyal purple-hood-wearing followers, if only for the kick Atobe'd get out of it. The idea was shot down immediately, with Shishido claiming that he'd rather chew off his own foot than even think of worshipping Atobe AND wearing something purple.

Another suggestion was to buy Atobe an exotic pet monkey. Again, it was shot down, because while everyone else finds it appropriately amusing, it is also synonymous to a lot of pain from Atobe, whose sense of humor does not include indirect jibes to his ancestry.

Then finally, there's this solution of collective lobotomies, which, all things told, would solve everyone's problems if not for the fact that they're not willing to give up a sector of their brains anytime soon. Because unless there is a just, serious, and compelling reason, no one forgets Atobe Keigo's birthday and lives to tell the tale.

Which is why Echizen Ryoma could contest Harry Potter's claim to the prestigious title of "The Boy Who Lived."

On that fateful day, exactly two years prior, the Seigaku tennis team had their treat of the week when an especially irked Atobe suddenly stormed into the Seigaku locker room, headed straight to the showers, and hauled off a heavily protesting towel-clad Echizen, who was unceremoniously tossed into the nearby parked limousine, where the blinds were immediately lowered as soon as the door slammed shut.

The following day, it was reported that Echizen didn't go to school, claiming to be temporarily indisposed.

It had been the joke of the Hyotei team to imagine a lightning-shaped scar mysteriously carving itself on Echizen's forehead as proof of the miracle. What they need not imagine though, were several injudicious hickeys on arbitrary spots on the Seigaku prodigy's physique.

A few days after, they were informed by Seigaku's data man, Inui, that those marks had always been there.

Ryoma had survived, but Atobe's royally-pedigreed dramatics had ensured that Ryoma won't commit the same atrocious crime ever again.

Going back to the present however, the boys are still lost, and time is running out.

"This is ridiculous," Shishido suddenly burst out, startling everyone, and making Gakuto fall off balance. "We've been sitting around for one hour and nothing's happening! Tell you what, why don't we just all split up, get our own individual gifts and collect it in one box?"

"Oh brilliant," Gakuto remarks sarcastically, picking himself up from his awkward landing on the floor. "So innovative."

Oshitari's glasses glint and he holds up a hand, effectively making Shishido bite back his intended retaliation to Gakuto. "Hold on. Shishido may be on to something."

Gakuto rolls his eyes. "Oh come on Yuushi. We're desperate but we're not pathetic."

"I know. But hear me out." Oshitari waits until he has everyone's attention before clearing his throat and leaning forward. "We know Atobe doesn't touch anything that isn't in a patrician class level," he starts. "And even then, few material things impress him. And since our tax brackets are comparably lower than Atobe's, whatever we're giving would be automatically second class."

He pauses for breath before continuing."However... there is a way for us not to bleed our wallets dry AND still make Atobe the happiest man alive."

Shishido's eyes narrow. "Go on."

Oshitari looks around carefully at his teammates. "We give Atobe ordinary things… but in an extraordinary manner."

"How?"

"Through an extraordinary person of course." Oshitari leans back, scheming tensai smirk in place. "And there is only one person that Atobe considers extraordinary."

"You mean..." Ohtori's voice trails off, as he exchanges a glance with Shishido.

"Yes." Oshitari nods decisively. "The solution to our dilemma lies in the general direction of Seishun High."

October 4 is that time of the year which Echizen Ryoma dreads the most.

His boyfriend's birthday isn't a date to be taken lightly. It is an unspoken law- forget everything, but not this day. Ryoma survived the first time, and Atobe made sure there wouldn't be a second time.

And now, it has been sixteen hours and twenty-three minutes past midnight of October four, and still, apart from a curt 'Happy Birthday' SMS message, he hasn't thought of another thing to give Atobe.

And who should come marching in right after practice hours proposing a gift idea for said boyfriend?

Why the entire Hyotei High Regulars' circle, sans Atobe, of course.

Now, normally, when a ready made solution to a dilemma arrives to him on a silver platter, Ryoma would be releasing a quick breath of relief, and offering a grudging smile of gratitude.

Normally being the operative word.

However, this is the Hyotei team in question, and that in itself, is an aberration of normal.

And currently, Ryoma is badly wishing he joined Fuji-senpai in volunteering to become a test subject of Inui-senpai's chemistry experiment post-practice. He eyes the box Hiyoshi is holding out in front of him with not a little bit of repulsion, as he physically recoils from it as if it would bite him any minute.

"Yadda."

"Echizen-kun, listen to reason," Gakuto wheedles. "All you have to do is make sure Atobe enjoys our gifts. You don't even have to get him anything."

"Yadda."

"Look here Echizen," Shishido warns, bitch-mode in check. "I did not go through that women's bare essentials store just to have you running away. Choutarou had been most traumatized by the obscene contents of that place. His Christian values had been besmirched and—"

"-If I remember correctly Shishido-kun, you were very fascinated with some of the items there," Taki interjects casually, a badly hidden smirk on his face. "Especially that skimpy, cherry red t—"

"I was NOT fascinated." The streak of red across Shishido's cheeks belies his incensed tone. "I was... appalled. Besides, I wasn't the one trying out those edible—"

"—Senpai-tachi, it's okay really," Ohtori appeases nervously, holding up his hands to mollify the two bickering seniors. "I mean it's for Atobe-buchou so no harm done." He turns towards Ryoma, smiling hopefully. "Please Echizen-kun? The team has gone to so much trouble. And I'm sure Atobe-buchou would appreciate it very much if you participate."

"Yadda."

Oshitari frowns. This is harder than he thought. Not even Ohtori, the saint of Hyotei, could sway Ryoma. He decides to take matters into his own hands. "Come now, Echizen-kun, what are you planning to do for your boyfriend anyway?"

Ryoma shrugs and answers the first thing that comes to mind. "I won't call him Monkey King for an entire day."

Gakuto stares incredulously at him. "You're kidding."

"I'm not." Ryoma is honest as he says this. In his frame of mind, refraining from calling his boyfriend the christened nickname is an act of unusual restraint, and as such takes tremendous effort on his part.

"That's not a proper gift for your boyfriend," Hiyoshi replies, arms folded. "Give him something special. Something that's actually useful for him."

Ryoma quirks his lips to one side. "I'll throw in one of those nifty rechargeable chastity belts, how's that?"

Oshitari's frown deepens. "Echizen, that's not funny."

"Good, because I'm not trying to be."

"It's his birthday. You should indulge him."

"My boyfriend needs indulgences like I need a growth stump."

Oshitari sighs and is quiet for a few moments. Ryoma maintains his obstinacy, staring back at Oshitari with defiant eyes.

Finally, the Hyotei tensai breaks the stand-off. "I was expecting it would come to this," he admits, shaking his head regretfully. "You leave me with no choice, Echizen. Gakuto, our trump card."

The defiance in Ryoma's eyes drops a notch and he raises one fine eyebrow warily. "What trump card?"

Gakuto smirks and pulls out a folded piece of bond paper. Upon seeing it, Ryoma's stomach suddenly feels like lead.

"If you don't agree to our terms Echizen-kun," Oshitari starts, taking the paper, pausing for a moment, his glasses glinting, before quickly spreading the paper open.

"We'll tell everyone that you accidentally photocopied your ass when you and Atobe did it in his dad's study."

For a moment, it's as if time has frozen for Ryoma, who stands stock-still, expression remaining cool and arrogant, as he casually glances at the newly-unfolded paper.

Then…

Oh. My. God.

His eyes widen to an almost comical size, the gravity of the situation finally descending on him. He stares at the documented evidence of his and his boyfriend's carelessness, his mind numbed by utter horror.

"Here's the proof," Gakuto chirps, grabbing the offensive paper from Oshitari and waving it in front of Echizen's face. "Stolen straight from your boyfriend's file case."

Taki snickers. "Now I know why Atobe's always in a good mood during class."

Ryoma, speechless and terrified, finds himself taking baby steps back until he hits the wall. He immediately considers hightailing it out of there, but the rest of the Hyotei team has chosen that time to corner him, in a fashion reminiscent of gangster movies, their much taller frames dwarfing Ryoma.

Oshitari and Mukahi's smiles could only be described as demonic. "So, what say you… Echizen-kun?" The shady-looking red box is once more offered to Ryoma, and dumbly, he takes another look at the items inside.

Love dice.

A violet mesh robe with elaborate silk detail.

Imported Taro jam.

Velvet cord.

Ridiculously tiny boyshorts underwear made of silver spandex and —Ryoma chokes— with the words Ore-sama's Private Playground written in flowing crimson cursive on the back.

And other items Ryoma never knew existed and is passionately regretting discovering now.

Ryoma bites his lips as he weighs out his options. He finds that it all comes to the point of choosing the lesser of two evils: His boyfriend or his boyfriend's team.

The answer is painfully obvious. Ryoma isn't afraid of incurring his boyfriend's wrath, oh no. An irritated and huffy Monkey King is something Ryoma handles every other day.

He is afraid, however, of the wrath of said Monkey King's tennis team, who by virtue of their wide palate of personalities alone, would be dishing out a catastrophe of the first order if their allegedly "simple" requests are not met.

And yes, spreading the word of his radioactive buns is a catastrophe of Jupiter proportions indeed.

Of course, there is always honorable suicide but Ryoma hasn't beaten his oyaji yet, so he lives.

After taking a deep breath, Ryoma utters the words to his own death sentence.

"So, what do I have to do?"

October 4 is that time of the year which Atobe Keigo enjoys the most.

Atobe smiles indulgently. "Turn around."

Ryoma obliges.

The translucency of mesh enables Atobe's eyes to rake appreciatively over the contours of his boyfriend's body, memorizing every curve and dip. He smirks as he reads the blood-red statement stamped on Ryoma's buttocks, approving of his team's chosen diction. As for the robe itself... purple isn't a very flattering color for Ryoma but he is delectable enough and Atobe is hungry enough so it doesn't matter.

For any normal person, such a decadent visual image is likely to be geared for premature orgasms at mere sight. If he isn't Atobe Keigo, he would have been over Ryoma so fast, the younger boy wouldn't have known what hit him.

Ryoma visibly squirms, obviously uncomfortable with the way Atobe pays excessive attention on his backside. When Atobe finally orders him to turn around again, Ryoma is staring at the velvet cord binding his wrists.

"If I had only known that you were into kinky, severely debilitating sexual procedures, I would've thought twice about dating you."

This slight to his sexual habits doesn't faze Atobe, who merely leans back against the headboard of his bed. "You are in no position to talk to Ore-sama in that manner, Ryoma," he drawls, holding out a piece of paper. "It is specifically mentioned in this birthday card that you must obey my every request."

"You don't request, you demand."

Atobe sighs. "I thought we've already established that you cease your insolence for tonight," he says, in a voice that brooks no argument. "Or do you want me to inform my team that their birthday present had been sadly unsatisfactory?"

Ryoma scowls. "No."

"Good. Hmm. Maybe I should let you read the message just to assure you of my authority." Atobe holds the card in front of Ryoma's face. Reluctantly, Ryoma's eyes skim through the short message.

It read:

Atobe-buchou,

Happy Birthday! We hope you enjoy our present. He's only effective until midnight so make sure you maximize your time. Feel free to do whatever you like, so as long as it is within moral and legal boundaries. Which of course, means that anything short of physical torture is acceptable.

Should your present's behavior be less than satisfactory, inform us and we'll deal with it accordingly. Enjoy!

The team

Atobe is still smirking when Ryoma lifts his eyes off the paper, looking like a doomed sheep for the slaughter. "You saw it yourself, Ryoma." His smirk takes a darker turn. "Now, we play by my rules. And I have several."

Ryoma rolls his eyes. "Oh joy."

Atobe ignores him. "You will observe proper etiquette."

Ryoma's jaw drops. "Etiquette? In this outfit?"

"We'll deal with that."

"How?"

Atobe smiles smugly. "As much as I love what you're wearing Ryoma, you know I love what you're NOT wearing even more."

Ryoma looks as if he is about to object to that but Atobe raises his hand and cuts him off. "Proper etiquette includes giving in to my requests with patience and willingness. No swearing. No calling me primitive nicknames. No sulking. And most especially, no unreasonable requests to be seme."

And with that, without giving Ryoma any time to respond, he gives a forceful tug on the velvet cord and Ryoma falls to his knees. The robe falls off one shoulder and Atobe licks his lips approvingly, unmindful of the glare Ryoma sent his way.

"Now," he starts, voice laced with authoritative inflection. "Tell me what I want to hear."

Ryoma's eyes darken and he waits a few seconds before lifting his head to stare directly in Atobe's eyes. "Keigo-sama, I am your man-bitch," he declares, golden eyes smoldering and oozing seduction. "Eat me."

Yes you are. And I will. The crude dirty talk complementing his boyfriend's breathy voice sends a shot of manic thrill through Atobe's veins, but he hides his excitement and fingers the velvet cord, giving it another tug. "You uttered a swear word," he admonishes lightly.

"Why yes I did," Ryoma returns, snark back in place. "Spank me?"

Atobe merely smirks and surprisingly, he deigns not to comment on Ryoma's impudence. Instead, he leans forward, reaching out to tip Ryoma's chin up."Ore-sama could be in a yacht right now, eating crabs from Sapporo, drinking fine champaigne and mingling with the richest families in Japan." He smiles when Ryoma's eyes betray a flash of delight at this information. "But no, Ore-sama is sacrificing his entire night for you," he murmurs, tracing Ryoma's lips with one elegant forefinger. "Make it worth my while, aa?"

Ryoma's expression remains fierce for a moment. Atobe stares back coolly. Then after some time, Ryoma looks down, and Atobe smiles triumphantly.

"Yes." And Ryoma proceeds.

October four is the time of the year which could qualify for the bane of Ryoma's existence.

But Atobe being Atobe turns bane into boon, and while Ryoma is certain of total immobility the following morning, he gradually succumbs.

"I'm so glad…mmm.. your birthday… aaa... only comes… once… a…. year."

"Ah...Ryoma."

"Hmm?"

"... Proper etiquette."

"Mmm?"

"… Don't talk when your mouth is full."

"Mmph."

-fin-

Post A/N: Yes I am completely unoriginal. So to appease for that, I offer…

OMAKE:

-ACTION!-

"ZZZZZZZz…."

"My my, Atobe seems to be at his sexual peak."

"He's always at his sexual peak."

"Yeah. I never knew Echizen could be so… loud."

"And hot. You know, for a vertically challenged brat, he is quite a miniature sex god."

"Oh yeah. Down, boy down… ooh, that's gotta hurt."

"Echizen seems to like it though."

"Guess Atobe's hot air isn't completely baseless, huh? He's totally justifying that little message on Echizen's boyshorts."

"Yeah. Hey… wait. I think I've seen that oral maneuver before. Was that Scorpio Nights?"

"No, I think it's in Nine and a half weeks… I mean—Wait a minute, this is invasion of privacy! What am I doing here?"

"Shhh…. Shishido-senpai, they might hear us."

"Are you sure you want to stick around Choutarou-kun? Are you not worried about getting corrupted and—

"Oh shut your trap Shishido, this is a team effort. And I don't see you trying to cover your eyes."

"Team effort my ass. You and Mukahi dragged us here! And what makes you think I'm interested in bratty boys' buff bodies?"

"Eto…I'm here for team support." ::blushes::

"Usu!"

"Eh? Kabaji, you're here!"

"Usu!"

"He set up the camera, since he's the only one who has actually been inside Atobe's quarters. It's hidden in one of Atobe's bromillion plants right?"

"Usu!"

"Bromillion? You mean the one directly above Gakuto's head?"

"Usu!"

"It's there? Let me see!"

"Oh hey, Echizen's looking at the camera! Aww… he's so cute… and wait, are those fangs?"

"Oh. Oh. OH MY GOD. Mukahi-senpai, he saw the camera."

"Yeah. Ooh, tight shot. And he has his killer look too. Whoa. Echizen makes for a feisty man-bitch."

"Gakuto, he SAW the CAMERA."

"What's your deal, he can't see us—OH SHIT."

"Lemme outta here!"

"Argh. My foot is struck! JIROH!"

"ZZZz…"

"Run dammit!"

"SOMEONE please pick Akutagawa up?"

"OH MY GOD, Echizen's grabbing his tennis racket!"

"Choutarou-kun, save yourself! I'll hold down the fort!"

"But Shishido-senpai, we must apologize—"

"—NOT NOW, DAMMIT, ECHIZEN CAN DO NASTY THINGS TO US WITH THAT RACKET AND…I just yelled at you and I'm sorry."

"… I'm sorry too, Shishido-senpai."

"… No, it's me who should be sorry. I was so insensitive. I'm never going to do it again. Choutarou-kun..."

"Shishido-senpai..."

"Will you guys please save your sap sessions for some other time? Help me wake up Jiroh! Argh! Geeet… off… "

"Zzzzz… huh? What's happening?"

"YOUR ASS IS GRASS AND ECHIZEN'S THE POWER MOWER, THAT'S WHAT'S HAPPENING. NOW MOVE IT!"

"Huh, why? Are Atobe and Echizen-kun done yet?"

"JIROH, SHUT IT AND RUN!"

::blinks:: "Run? Now? Oh but look, Echizen is gonna serve some balls! I wanna see!"

"JIROH! RUN!"

"Okay, okay, but let me greet Atobe first."

"WHAT?"

"JIROH DON'T—"

"THAT'S A TWIST SERVE COMING OUR WAY—"

"-OTENJOUBI OMEDETOU ATOBE-KUN!"

-CUT!-

Hyotei Voyeurs. Gotta love them.