Shadow: First of the Hard Rounds for Compy's contest, and it's a shame I truly don't have the time to do this pairing justice. I'm hurried, and am off on holiday soon, so this is by no means my best work. This is probably also my shortest ever oneshot for the contest… I don't expect to get through.
Notes/Warnings:Pairing was Shrimpshipping – Weevil Underwood x Rex Raptor. That alone turns my stomach. Boy x boy, but mostly in a humorous fashion.
The bell over the door jingled merrily as Weevil Underwood entered the shop, and Weevil tried his very best not to glare too much when the optician behind the reception desk looked up, eyes automatically looking to the average person's height in the doorway before sliding their gaze down, down, down to finally alight upon Weevil.
"Good morning sir!" At least Weevil couldn't fault the man on his cheeriness. It was quite sickening, but at least the optician wasn't sneering.
"I'm here to collect my new glasses." Weevil didn't bother returning the friendliness – it was before noon, Weevil had had a rather crappy week, and he just plain wasn't in the mood.
"Right away, sir! Your name?"
Once upon a time no-one would have had to ask. He had been the national Duel Monsters Champion, face plastered everywhere in this town, Domino, the city of Games… "Weevil Underwood." And then Yugi Mouto had come along with his stupid deck and his even stupider hair –
"One moment sir." The optician pattered away to a back room, no doubt hunting down Weevil's new frames with his changed prescription in them. He'd had his test a week before, and his lenses were apparently off quite a bit but – "Here we go." The guy guarding the reception was back, glasses in hand. "Would sir like a case?" A handy drawer was pulled out, full of spectacle cases covered in brightly-coloured dinosaurs.
Weevil glowered. "Haven't you got anything less…less…." The majority of the dinosaurs appeared to be a sickening orange, and they were cartoon dinosaurs with horrible grins on their prehistoric googly-eyed faces. Dinosaurs on crack, Weevil shuddered at the thought, "less designed for hyperactive five year-olds?" He finished eventually, still irritated at being offered the atrocities in the first place.
The optician looked most offended at the insult to his cases. "No." The drawer was shut with slightly more force than was necessary, and the optician's reply was short. "My apologies, sir."
And now the man was being mocking? Weevil bristled, trying to looking intimidating, but failing rather miserably as his actions only made him look more like a puffed-up cockatoo only without the lethal claws and beak. "I want to speak to your superior."
Laconic: "He's not in."
"Then get him on the phone."
"He doesn't have a phone."
"How can he not have a phone? Everyone has a phone."
"Sir is being discriminatory against those without phones?"
"I am not being discriminatory -"
"But sir plainly stated -"
"It's not my fault all you offer are stupid dinosaurs! That is discriminatory!"
"What's wrong with dinosaurs?"
Weevil grimaced. "What isn't wrong with dinosaurs?" Anyone who liked them – not mentioning any specific names of course - had to have something seriously wrong with their head.
"Sir is now being discriminatory against dinosaurs?"
"I'm not being discriminatory!"Weevil was yelling now, completely ignoring the shocked looks being shot his way from fellow patrons. "Dinosaurs are extinct, anyway!!"
The optician looked disapproving. "It's because of attitudes like that we no longer have such noble creatures roaming the earth."
"'Noble'? They ate each other!"
"Sir really should -"
"Give me that!" Weevil suddenly snatched his glasses from the man's hand. "I'm leaving!"
"But sir has some forms to sign-!"
The bell jingling was the optician's only reply, as well as the slam of the door.
Weevil had no idea why he was at the Kame Game Shop, truly. He could think of a thousand and one places he'd much rather be, but after stalking from the optician's and changing his glasses well –
The difference in the lenses stung his eyes, at first. Weevil could see such much more than he'd been able to with his old pair; he supposed that's what he got putting for off visiting an optician's for so long.
And now he was at the Kame Game Shop – because they actually stocked quite a few good cards, but Weevil would die before he admitted that – and trying so desperately to ignore the chattering crowd behind him and why, oh why did the idiots that always followed Yugi Mouto around have to be in the shop that day? Why? What had Weevil done that was so wrong? (Discounting of course lying, cheating, trying to snatch power unfairly, stealing, throwing precious Exodia cards overboard and just generally being an all-round twerp.) At least Mouto himself wasn't there –
"Joey!" Speak of the devil, and he shrieked from the back rooms attached to the shop.
Curious, Weevil followed the three idiots he could never remember the name of to the back rooms, the house proper, and ended up observing the Mouto kitchen where Yugi was collapsed, on his knees, in front of the washing machine.
"…Yug'?" Joey Wheeler (alright, so Weevil did remember one of their names) looked somewhat apprehensively at his friend. "Yug', what's wrong?"
"Did you put the washing machine on?!" Yugi's voice was lost somewhere between a screech and a squeak, furious and horrified. The washing machine rumbled before him.
"Well…yeah…" His blond friend rubbed the back of his neck, sensing some impending doom heading his way. "You told me to, considering half the stuff in there's mine -"
Weevil did not want to know why Wheeler was washing his clothes in Mouto's washing machine, really.
Joey continued, not noticing Weevil's shudder behind him. "Did I do something wrong?"
Yugi looked at him, large eyes mournful, despairing, exasperated, defeated. "Joey, the god cards were in there." Joey squeaked. "Didn't you think to check anyone's pockets…?" Joey shook his head numbly, 'no'. Yugi sighed, and slumped. There was silence in the kitchen.
Weevil…wasn't sure exactly what to think. The god cards – the most powerful cards in all of Duel Monsters, the symbol of the undefeated King of Games, had been…defeated by a washing machine? A common, run-of-the-mill, washing machine?
Oh, he felt ill.
A new voice from the back door, a white head suddenly peeking around the door frame of the entrance. "Yugi?" It was that…that weird guy. Ba…Bakura whatshisface, with the weirdly polite accent. He had a pad of some sort under his arm.
"Ryou," Joey acknowledged the albino, still looking ill.
Ryou's eyes swept over the kitchen as he stepped fully into the room, the young man frowning as he saw Yugi's slump in front of the washing machine. "Did I miss something important? You all look like someone just died."
Yugi whined, and buried his head further in his hands.
The girl with the brown hair – the only girl in fact – pointed to the washing machine. "Joey put the washer on and Yugi's god cards are in there."
"Um…no…" Ryou shook his head, "they can't be."
"Denial won't do you any good, man." Spiky-hair guy's turn. The nameless twit who didn't duel. Weevil privately agreed with him; the whole duelling world was just going to have to accept this tragic loss and Mouto's name would be mud -
"It's not denial." Another shake of the head from Ryou. "I mean," he stuck his hand in his back pocket, suddenly withdrawing three very familiar cards and fanning them out for the rest of the kitchen to see, "unless these are fakes?"
There was a long, painful silence. You could have heard crickets chirp. In fact, Weevil would have much preferred to hear crickets chirp. He hadn't caught a cricket for a while actually and his collection was –
"How the hell did you get Yug's cards?!" Joey's shriek.
"Yugi lent them to me." Ryou smiled at the blond, a little wary of the disbelief on the other's face. "I still make models of Duel Monsters you know, Joey; Yugi asked me to make some of the god cards." He flipped open the pad under his arm, showing off the three-dimensional sketches and plans of models there.
"Ryou…" Yugi rose to his feet all of a sudden, practically lunging at the other male and flinging his arms around the albino's neck, "I love you. No, I love you. Ryou Bakura you – you –" he actually burst into tears.
"Er-" Ryou patted his back, looking extremely awkward. "That's nice?"
…Weevil left the game shop, freaked.
Weevil stopped, a little wearily, as he was on his way home. He'd…had an odd day, to say the least. First the dinosaur-case incident at the optician's. Then, the thing at the game shop. Then some weird exploding cake promotion going on in town that had meant Weevil had ended up covered in purple powder and now –
"Raptor, why are you wearing a dress? Actually, no, don't tell me. My brain can't take any more." Weevil turned to go, utterly disgusted by the sight of his once-upon-a-time rival for the position as National Duel Monsters Champion in a purple – frilly – dress. With red ribbons on it. And still had that stupid red woollen cap on his head too.
Rex Raptor looked offended. "What's wrong with my dress?"
"It's almost as tacky as your dinosaur deck." Weevil really had dinosaurs on the brain today…
"What's wrong with my dinosaurs?" Proper offence now. "They're better than your bugs!"
"They are not and – what the hell are you doing with that camera?" This was yelled at a random stranger that had run up to them and started snapping pictures of Raptor and him. "Get it away!"
Rex frowned. "Would've thought you would've liked the attention – I'm doing a photo shoot today."
"In a dress?"
"Why not? All the cutest guys wear dresses."
Weevil felt really ill. "Only in fanfiction." And he did not want to go there. Ever. And it wasn't as if Raptor was even -
"You read fanfiction?"
"Of course I don-"
Both Weevil and Rex winced at the sound, the photographer suddenly going picture-mad and practically bouncing around as he took pictures. "You'd make the cutest couple! I mean, do this pose here, and here, and just stick your bum out a bit more there please sweetie and – wow. You'll have weak hearts stopping dead all over Domino!"
Weevil looked sickened. "I beg your pardon? Me? With him?" A derogatory finger was pointed at Raptor. "I think not."
"But the pictures-!" The photographer wailed. "The publicity-!"
"No." Weevil was firmly, firmly set against this view, and determinedly began striding away.
Raptor, on the other hand, liked the sound of this publicity –
"Underwood!" He grabbed at Weevil's arm just as the other turned back around to come out with another sneering comment, landing a horribly wet smacker of a kiss on the other male's cheek.
Weevil froze. The camera flashed. Spots danced before Weevil's eyes as his brain slowly re-gathered itself and Raptor began to slowly back-pedal at the look of utter fury on his companion's face – or back-pedal as he fast as he could in a dress anyway –
And the day ended merrily in charges of sexual harassment and assault.
Another normal, pleasant day in Domino.
Weevil went back to the optician's the following day, and requested they change the lenses in his new frames back to his old prescription.
"But sir," the optician he spoke to protested (thankfully it wasn't the one of yesterday – no, that guy just contented himself with glaring evilly from the other end of the room), "you'll find it extremely difficult to see with your old prescription."
"I know," said Weevil, much to the optician's confusion, "that's why I want it."
Domino was a whole hell of a lot less disturbing if you couldn't see three-quarters of what was going on.