Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
Around the House: The Ugly Table
by Pout
It was a big mystery.
“It just doesn’t match,” Gakuto said. “And you know how Atobe’s such a style conscious freak. It’s an ugly table. I don’t get it.”
Atobe and Eiji liked to hold a reunion dinner every few months or so. (“So that no one is deprived of seeing my beautiful face,” Atobe declared. Eiji rolled his eyes and told everyone that he just missed his cuddly friends.) And every few months, they reconvened at Atobe’s posh abode and glared at the perfectly ugly table in the middle of his dining room.
“Not that I particularly care how ugly his table is,” Kamio said, putting the disclaimer out first, “but it really doesn’t match. And it doesn’t make any sense. Everything else in this house matches. The toilet paper even matches the tiles in the bathroom. I’m not kidding.”
Sanada nodded in agreement. “It is odd.” Kamio looked up at him and wondered if that was really all he was going to say. It was.
Fuji grinned prettily and said, “I think I might have figured it out.”
“Really?”
“But I’ll have to confirm my suspicions later.”
As dinner was being served, Fuji kept his gaze on Atobe as he leaned against the edge of his dinning table and set a plate down. Fuji’s eyes flashed. At last, the mystery was solved. A sly smile crept across his lips and he chuckled.
“So?” Kamio asked. “What is it? Did you figure it out?”
“Ah,” Fuji replied. He ran a hand over the surface of the wooden table. “This is an old table,” he began, attracting the attention of the other guests as well as the hosts. “The wood is very smooth.” Eiji looked over at his partner with a shy smile on his lips. “It’s also a very convenient height.” Atobe looked away and coughed discreetly.
“Height?” Sengoku asked. “What does that have to…? Oh…”
“What? What?” Momo asked impatiently.
Atobe sighed and walked up to the table, leaning over to pick a bottle of wine off the top, the table edge hitting him perfectly across the thighs.
“Oh!”
There was a mass exodus as everyone skittered away from the tainted table.
“Gross!”
“We eat here!”
Eiji smiled mischievously at Atobe who put on a trademark debonair smirk. Indeed, the table was just the right height for their naughty after-meal activities. For that redeeming quality, Atobe had grown rather attached to the style-deficient table.
Eiji leaned into his partner and sighed melodramatically. “I don’t think we’ll be hosting the reunions anymore.”
Atobe shrugged. “All the more time for us to spend with the table, I suppose.”
If you would like to provide feedback on this story, please feel free to e-mail me at: poutonly@gmail.com.