Disclaimer: Punch-Out!! is property of Nintendo. And so are all the boxers in the Wii version.

Author's Note: Hello! This is my first Punch-Out!! fanfiction, and God is it messed up. I don't recall seeing any Punch-Out!! slash anywhere. Looks like I've created one of the first ones, then. x.x

This is a story that involves Von Kaiser and Glass Joe, as seen in the summary. I must admit that the inspiration for this was seeing Glass Joe's winning animation in Title Defense (J'ai gagné!) and laughing over how dorky he was. God I love him. He tries so hard. xD Von Kaiser was my second favourite in the Punch-Out!! for the NES - he was the first one to show me the power of ZEE UPPERCUT and I just loved his speeches. I suppose I wanted to show Glass Joe owning someone for once - not with his fists, but with his inexplicable French charm. So this little weird piece of fictionbunny was created. I... I like this pairing. Don't judge me. x.x

This is a bit... different in terms of personality to what few Punch-Out!! fics state. And Von Kaiser needs to speak more German in this. But unfortunately, I don't speak any German. Perhaps I should have never tried. I apologize to all the people out there who speak more German than me and see the glaring errors in this fic. I warn you again - this is slash, so please press the back button if you hate it.

(waits for flames)


There was something unusual about Glass Joe.

It wasn't the fact that the guy had an terrible streak of bad luck, having lost just about every single match ever since he began his career. Everybody knew that he had only ever won once, explaining why he was still hanging around at the very bottom of the Minor Circuit - he certainly hadn't lost every time, but he was still a terrible boxer. No doubt about that - Glass Joe was infamous for being easy to get past, and nobody questioned that. Nothing too unusual about it.

It also wasn't that he was permanently nervous, having developed a kind of terrible paranoia around the boxing scene. He would twitch, glancing with wide frightened eyes all around the ring, ready to flinch away from any potential members of the audience who might just throw things at him. It had happened before, but not as often now - hardly anyone bothered any more.

So what was so unusual about him?

Von Kaiser really had to question that as he sat in the changing rooms, deep in thought. Some other boxers prodded him, remarking that 'he wasn't going all Nazi on them today', but a quick uppercut to the jaw had fixed them all. He really detested being called that name; it was inaccurate, he was stressed enough as it was, and he simply hated everything Nazism-related. It tarnished the pride of his home country, he thought bitterly to himself, before returning to thoughts of Glass Joe.

What was it exactly about him? Was it the way he spoke? The man spoke more often in French than in another language, often muttering softly to himself about something or humming the French national anthem. When he did have to communicate with the other boxers or the judges, he spoke English in a thick, rather muddled accent, accompanied by slight hand gestures to clarify his meaning. Because he had been around for such a long time, he could speak English better than most of the boxers - but he simply preferred not to. That was a strange aspect of him, even if national pride was taken into consideration.

Was it the way he dressed? It was always the same outfit with him outside the boxing ring; a tight-fitting black or navy shirt and a pair of red trousers. Simple. Within the ring he wore red-and-white boxer shorts and knee-high boots. His attire could be described in one word - monotonous - but for some reason, nobody (including the Frenchman himself) really seemed to mind. That was certainly strange.

But then, this was Glass Joe he was thinking about. Glass Joe could do any pretty much anything and still get ignored most of the time.

The German boxer sighed heavily as he stood up, stretching his body. He had been pondering for over two hours and had not yet come to any conclusions. Perhaps he should give up for the day after all; he had other things on his mind to think about. It was already nightfall outside - he had stayed because it was his shift to check and maintain the changing rooms that day up until the last match. He knew that the last match of the day was going on right now, which meant that he could lock up and leave for his home in a few minutes or so. The entire idea of 'shifts' started when the Boxing Association announced that it was short of funding; therefore, many of the guards and bouncers were taken off their jobs, leaving the boxers to do a dual job. Only about a handful of boxers actually kept to their shift, often bribing or threatening others to do it for them, but none of that was of concern to Von Kaiser right now. He liked that he had some time off to think for himself. Sipping at his freshly-made cup of coffee, he sat down and leaned back, closing his eyes.

All of his careful, laid-out plans for the night were ruined, however, when a certain nervous boxer entered the room.

Von Kaiser glanced at the new occupant of the room with some irritation before he fully realized who it was. When it registered in his mind, he hurriedly looked away, giving no indication that he'd ever turned his head. The other didn't seem to notice. It was Glass Joe himself, of course; he was dressed in his usual attire, complete with a red beret and scarf, clutching a baguette in his hand and taking small bites out of it now and then. He gazed briefly at the German as he hung up his scarf, but then looked away, seemingly unsurprised at his presence in the changing rooms. Von Kaiser usually went home earlier than most people. "Bonsoir, Monsieur."

"Slacking off today, eh?" Von Kaiser asked, his words sounding much harsher than intended. Glass Joe looked over at him, startled that the German boxer would even bother talking to him at all, and didn't answer for a moment or two. But then he looked away, shrugging lightly in response.

"No," he replied softly in his accented voice before going over to the coffee machine. He switched it on and held up a few packets of coffee into the light, reading the labels, choosing which one he wanted to drink. "I have no matches to attend today. That is all."

"Then what are you doing here?"

Glass Joe looked at him oddly - had his answer not sufficed? "Monsieur Von Kaiser, I am only here because I-"

"It's Herr Von Kaiser," the older man interrupted, obviously irritated. "if you must insist on being so polite."

The Frenchman sighed softly before resuming his sentence. "Yes, Herr Von Kaiser... as I was saying, I am here simply because I did not feel like staying at home tonight. I had a strange feeling - how can it be described? - a certain je ne sais quoi," he laughed to himself, pouring the coffee into a clean mug and stirring it gently. "that feeling, you can only say what it is in French."

"Surprising," Von Kaiser muttered. "by your record, I would have thought that you found this place a living hell."

Glass Joe raised his eyebrows at this statement, looking so innocent and wide-eyed that the German could not comprehend it. He felt his heart leap; slightly embarrassed, he coughed and looked away to disguise his momentary lapse of concentration. What was going on with him? He couldn't let this go to his head - there was definitely something about Glass Joe that made him feel strange, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what. It wasn't like him to be feel like this; and it was driving him half mad.

"I find this place comforting. It's where I can be accepted and be myself."

"How can you stand it, though?" Von Kaiser asked. This was indeed a question that he had been meaning to ask for some time now. "you've been here much longer than I have. You fought more matches than me and you've lost so many times. But every time I see you, you're - what's the word - optimistic all the time. Don't you feel... ach, discouraged once in a while?"

"Would we be human if we weren't discouraged?" the Frenchman asked, taking a small sip out of his coffee. "Hn. Needs more sugar. But as I was saying... whenever I feel that everything is too hard and complicated, I remember what I came here for - to represent France. I take much pride in my home country."

"Pride?" Von Kaiser laughed, sensing an opportunity to regain his composure. "what sort of pride? I should remind you that the French have not had a major victory since-" his words were cut off as Glass Joe suddenly lunged towards him, punching him squarely on the jaw. He reeled back in pain and astonishment, cursing out aloud. "verdammt! What was that for?"

Glass Joe met his eyes with a stern gaze. That alone was enough to make Von Kaiser stop talking; the younger boxer was often too scared to make eye contact with others. "I can take anything thrown at me, Monsieur, but I will not tolerate any insults towards my country."

"It's Herr, I tell you," Von Kaiser muttered, but he did nothing to further press the issue. In fact, he was actually rather impressed with Glass Joe's reaction; as weak and nervous as he was, he was still quite self-confident and was willing to put national pride before himself. That was one attitude Von Kaiser approved of. His jaw still ached a little from that one punch - he wouldn't have expected it from Glass Joe of all people, but the Frenchman was a boxer after all and he could still hit people very hard. There was a reason as to why he became a boxer in the first place.

The younger boxer, in the meantime, had settled back down into his calm, quiet demeanor. He picked up his coffee and sat down next to Von Kaiser, gazing at him with a worried look. "I didn't injure you in any way, did I? I apologize for my outburst."

"No harm done. And I'm sorry," the German replied, secretly surprised at himself; since when did he start saying sorry to people? "I shouldn't have said that."

"No offence taken," Glass Joe smiled lightly, and tore off another small piece from his baguette with his fingers, putting it into his mouth and chewing it slowly. Von Kaiser watched him, his eyes focused on his smooth movements and long, slender fingers. "say... how long have you been here?"

Von Kaiser fell silent for a second or two. "Since three in the afternoon."

"Did you have anything to eat at all?"

The older man shook his head. He hadn't thought about food for hours; he just hadn't felt hungry enough. Glass Joe tilted his head lightly to the side at this observation. "Would you like a piece of baguette?"

"... Sure, go ahead."

Glass Joe proved to be very generous with his baguette; he broke it in two and passed the uneaten half to Von Kaiser. The latter accepted, but looked shrewedly at the Frenchman - "What about you? Don't you need to eat more?"

"I don't eat very much."

Von Kaiser nodded, although he still seemed rather concerned; but he didn't want to force the issue. He broke off a large chunk of the baguette and gazed at it, unsure how to eat it properly. "Are you meant to eat it like this?"

"Mon dieu, non!" Glass Joe said hastily. He moved closer - perhaps a bit too close for comfort - to show him how to dunk a small piece in coffee; "You can also eat it without the coffee, because just about anything goes when you're eating a baguette... but never large bites at a time! You must savour it!"

The German boxer rolled his eyes. "Ich gebe auf! You French, always talking about food..." but he didn't protest, and did as Glass Joe had demonstrated. It had a unique, but pleasant taste to it that he liked - he was sure having a lot of surprises tonight.

"It's easier to do this at home," Glass Joe was mumbling as he tried to dip a slightly larger piece in his mug. "those mugs... they're far too small..."

Von Kaiser glanced over at him. "So it's true, then?"

"Hmm?"

"Do the French really drink their coffee in bowls?"

The younger man stared at him for a few seconds before he suddenly erupted in laughter. "Oui, oui! The French do that, yes. We also drink hot chocolate in bowls - 'bol du chocolat', as we call it."

Von Kaiser sighed. "... Strange people..."

Whilst they sat there and ate, the two boxers who had been in the final match of the day came in. Their names were Disco Kid and Piston Hondo, and they both stared rather curiously at the sight of Glass Joe and Von Kaiser sitting together and eating a baguette. Piston Hondo, being very honourable, soon averted his gaze and quietly put on his outer clothing; the same could not be said for Disco Kid, who snickered at the two in a particularly unpleasant manner. However, even he backed off when Von Kaiser gave him a death glare - although Glass Joe was avoiding his eyes, Disco Kid knew that angering the German boxer honestly wasn't worth it. The latter had a better record than he did, so he changed lightening-quick and practically ran out of the door after Piston Hondo, leaving the two alone in the changing rooms.

-----

"So, Herr... Von Kaiser... what do you think of the new boxer?"

"Little Mac?"

"Oui," Glass Joe nodded. "he is a strong one, is he not?"

The older man scowled. "Stark, yes. Glück, yes. But do I like him? No," he growled. "he's barely more than a boy!"

Glass Joe raised his eyebrows. "Mais pourquoi? He was a fair fighter. Certainly more fair than Aran Ryan."

"Fairness is no virtue in this place," this conversation change was actually a good thing. It allowed Von Kaiser to think about something else apart from the Frenchman sitting next to him. "I don't like him and that's that. What's a kid like him doing here? Hasn't he got anything better to do with his life?"

"He has a great future ahead of him, though. I heard that he recently defeated King Hippo and became the Minor Circuit Champion."

"Himmel! Gott im Himmel!" Von Kaiser cursed, his fists clenching. "so must we treat that child as our champion? Disgraceful! I won't allow it!"

The Frenchman looked at him closely, now looking distinctly alarmed. Von Kaiser was infamous for his hot temper, yes, but he had never seen the older man so worked up before. He had not complained when Disco Kid advanced one step ahead in the ranks (he had simply rolled his eyes, sighed and that had been it) and he certainly didn't seem to notice the boys who often came to bet on the matches. So why so much hatred? Little Mac was only three years below Disco Kid, which didn't make him that much younger, but he was indeed terribly short compared to the other boxers. Did Von Kaiser have some kind of height complex against Little Mac?

Glass Joe gazed at the seething German worriedly. "But... why? He deserves the honour - when I fought him, I could feel that he was determined to succeed. Nobody who has that much determination should be allowed to fail."

"Little Mac is only a boy," Von Kaiser replied simply.

"Do you not like children, then?"

"Kinder!" Von Kaiser proceeded to let loose with a long stream of curses in German, voicing his particular hatred for children. "Mein Gott, save us from children! Anything but those little brats! I can't stand to see them shouting and screaming all the time-"

The Frenchman looked at him, amused. "Your language is very - what's the mot anglais? - ah, colourful yourself."

"Save it," the German boxer snorted in disgust, glaring into thin air as if he saw Little Mac standing there. "smug little kid... hope somebody teaches him a lesson..."

Glass Joe laughed softly, smiling into his coffee. "Mon Dieu... one would think that you wished to declare a war on Little Mac... I mean no offense," he added quickly as the other glanced at him with irritation, obviously not amused by the implication of war. "but it crossed my mind after my defeat... that perhaps we are the ones who need to learn a lesson from him. He's only a boy, yes, but does age really matter? I've never seen more determination from anyone else. No matter whether we like it or not, he's going to make it far. Perhaps he might even beat Mr Sandman. He really is someone worth keeping watch on. It's thanks to him that I can get more into my matches. I always loved and always will love boxing - it's my life - but I admit that I've never quite taken it seriously enough because I preferred seeing the more inexperienced ones have their chance. But I believe I can perform much better now. Little Mac taught me a valuable lesson, Monsieur, and that is why I can continue on. I'm actually grateful that I lost to him."

Von Kaiser stared, not even commenting on the usage of 'Monsieur'. Where had that confidence come from? He felt somewhat dazed and confused - he had never quite thought that the younger boxer was someone he could take seriously. Until that night, he had seen Glass Joe as a nervous Frenchman with a fondness for napping and eating soft buttery pastries with coffee. Certainly not somebody one could take in earnest in a boxing association. Yet in the space of an hour or so, all the stereotypes that Von Kaiser had acquired about the other man had been shattered; he'd found out what was unusual about the man at last.

The nervous boxer he was used to seeing was not the real Glass Joe.

Von Kaiser looked at him, really looked at him for the first time - and he liked what he saw. Self-confidence, a sense of pride and wisdom. That was what had motivated the Frenchman to keep on trying despite his constant losses. That was why he could keep on facing every match with a smile on his face despite knowing that he was going to lose. Glass Joe had known that by allowing amateur boxers to advance in the ranks, he was giving them a chance to be someone special. And now, he had learnt from his defeat to Little Mac and had vowed to do better - and somehow, Von Kaiser didn't doubt that it would happen soon enough.

"If you did not speak French I would've assumed you were German," Von Kaiser stated. "such confidence... endless persistence... only Germans are capable of achieving those things in such good grace. Are you sure you don't have any German heritage?"

Glass Joe laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "I come from a family of pure Parisians. I believe I have no other heritage apart from French. But thank you for the compliment."

"Hmm," Von Kaiser didn't comment further and instead sank into one of his contemplations. He had never found Glass Joe to be admirable; and yet now, he was seeing him in a different light. Everything that had previously seemed mediocre and ridiculous about the other boxer now seemed renewed. Von Kaiser had never really looked that much at Glass Joe before - because he got beaten up so much, he usually wasn't a pretty sight to look at. Over time, that habit had stuck, and he had seldom looked at the Frenchman, expecting nothing more than bruises and cuts whenever he had to look.

But he was different now.

They had both been defeated by Little Mac just over a week ago. Von Kaiser had been especially sore about that particular one, because he had not even managed to hit the boy once during their fight - both his pride and body had been quite badly wounded afterwards, and he swore that he could still feel the ache in his jaw from that star uppercut. But Glass Joe had gotten his act together. All his bruises and wounds had healed now, and the older man had seen him training with intense concentration, his expression firm and set as he readied himself for another match. He had looked less nervous recently, and he walked with a straight posture as opposed to his previously hunched-down way of standing.

Maybe it was because of all those changes, but somehow he felt that Glass Joe was... quite handsome really, for someone who was thirty-eight years old. The Frenchman was in good shape physically after all, and he didn't eat a great deal either (unlike some people). His cheeks were hollow, in that typically French way, and his eyes were deeply set, giving him that rather pensive look. All of which suited Von Kaiser's taste. Glass Joe also possessed a beautiful smile that only came out when he was very happy indeed; the older man had only seen that smile three or four times, but he'd never quite forgotten those moments.

He wondered what it would feel like to hold the Frenchman close and kiss him.

This was a spontaneous thought, yes, but certainly not a thought that he wanted to discard. Von Kaiser had gotten an idea, and he always put his ideas into action, no matter how irrational they were. He was going to have to find out.

"Well, perhaps it is best that you're of French heritage."

Glass Joe tilted his head to the side, questioning; and as much as Von Kaiser wanted to deny it, he looked cute. "What do you mean?"

"I heard that the French make good lovers," Von Kaiser stated with his typical bluntness, getting straight to the point, and smirked mischievously as the other man's cheeks turned beet red. "well? Care to show me an example? That should be easy to prove, nein?"

"... Well, not all the French are-"

"Don't give me that," the German boxer whispered, his breath hot against the other's cheek. Glass Joe shivered at the contact. "it's not like you don't have what it takes."

Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed the Frenchman by his waist and pulled him tight towards his chest, staring at him with a smirk on his face. Glass Joe looked up at him, confusion etched onto his face, but there was no fear. Not just yet. So far so good - he really didn't want the Frenchman pulling away from him just now. He had more that he wanted to find out.

"Move up," he pulled Glass Joe right up to his lap so that the younger man was straddled over him. "there you go."

"What... are you-" Glass Joe began, but then stopped as a pair of lips closed upon his, cutting off his speech. Glass Joe's eyes widened as he was kissed fiercely by the older boxer; they swayed uneasily for a second or two before Von Kaiser decided to hold onto the other man a bit more tightly. The beret slipped off his head, crumpling as it fell on the floor, forgotten - he was being held so that he could not even struggle.

"Du bist schön," the German boxer broke the kiss - just long enough for him to breathe this confession softly against the other's cheek. He then resumed kissing without hearing any other response, too lost in his own desires to think of anything else. The Frenchman was indeed beautiful, he thought; his hair felt silky against Von Kaiser's fingertips, his lips soft despite the hardships he'd endured, and there was the sweet scent of his cologne and coffee around him that drove the older boxer crazy-

"Mmm...! Mm-" Glass Joe tried desperately to say something through the kiss, but the other was holding him much too tight. He couldn't breathe, let alone move. Just a few more seconds and he would begin to suffocate. As if realizing this, Von Kaiser loosened his hold a little - the younger boxer was relieved for only a second or two before (with faint horror) he realized that Von Kaiser's hands were moving downwards. His right hand moved down to Glass Joe's hips, grasping at his buttocks, making the Frenchman cry out loud into the kiss.

After what seemed like an eternity for the younger man, Von Kaiser pulled back. "Sensitive, aren't you?" he smirked, his muscular arms still draped around the other's waist. "I've hardly even started! Perhaps you won't make a good lover just yet... but with more experience..."

Glass Joe stared back at him, panting for breath, a blush on his cheeks and an unfathomable look in his eyes. "You have... really... large hands, Monsieur... you know that?"

This reply was completely unexpected for the older boxer; he blinked in confusion for a second or so before he looked down at his hands. "Ich nehme an... I mean, I suppose so. It's a good thing," he returned his hands to their previous positions, one hand resting on the other's backside, causing Glass Joe to blush hotly again. "I need them quite a lot. Surely you understand."

"Well... I..." the Frenchman attempted, but faltered before he could even begin. Von Kaiser, glad for the other's silence, took it as a cue to pat the younger man's back gently, giving him a chance to calm down. Gentleness was few and far between with him, but he could spare some for Glass Joe anytime. When the latter seemed to settle down rather uneasily, Von Kaiser slowly began to stroke his hair, moving down to the nape of his neck and feeling his way down to his chest. The Frenchman was slender and well-muscled, despite being underweight (the older boxer had worked that out the instant he saw his stats, years ago), and his skin felt rather soft and warm underneath his fingertips. He'd started initially as a way to test Glass Joe's acceptance and show his admiration, but now that he'd started, he was liking it way too much to stop now.

"Don't... mm..." Glass Joe was stopped from saying anything else as the other placed a warm, rough hand over his cheek, silencing him by brushing his thumb against his lips. Von Kaiser smiled, nuzzling his lips very lightly against the younger boxer's neck, provoking a small moan from him as his mustache tickled his skin.

"Don't what?" he asked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "don't stop? I'll only be too happy to oblige."

"... You're very... insistent, Monsieur."

"Hey, I don't call myself 'Kampfmaschine' for no reason, you know," Von Kaiser whispered, smirking. "I'll do anything to get my prize."

"Tell me about it," Glass Joe replied, his voice suddenly low. His eyes had taken on a strange look; with unusual firmness, he grasped the straps of Von Kaiser's suspenders and tugged him close, gazing at him all the while. "you're not the only one who feels that way, Monsieur."

Before Von Kaiser could even attempt any kind of reply, the younger boxer sank down onto the ground, pulling the German along with him. Soon they were lying upon the bench, with Glass Joe beneath Von Kaiser and staring up at the older man. The look in his eyes was somehow so unlike Glass Joe - that look was passionate, dark, wild, everything that Von Kaiser had believed that the Frenchman wasn't. It was almost as if he were daring Von Kaiser to kiss him again.

And although he hated to admit it, the older man didn't quite dare.

When Von Kaiser didn't move, the Frenchman decided to take control instead. Glass Joe grasped his head and pulled him down, crushing the other's lips with his in uncharacteristic aggression. This change was the very last thing that Von Kaiser had ever expected from the younger man, so he just stayed there, gazing rather blankly at Glass Joe, unsure what to think. But as he lay on top of the Frenchman, he had to admit that it felt nice. Far too nice. Letting Glass Joe have the upper hand felt different, felt much more powerful, and he was overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions that coursed through him.

The kiss lasted around a couple of minutes or so before the younger man pulled back. He grinned at Von Kaiser, who was still staring at him, lost for words.

"Whatever happened to the 'I've hardly even started' part then, Monsieur?" Glass Joe asked, a teasing grin on his face. He pulled Von Kaiser back without waiting for any response, his kiss a little softer this time, stroking against the other's lips with more gentleness than before. He was in charge now, Von Kaiser was under his mercy, and he would use this opportunity to its fullest. The German boxer seemed to have given in, letting Glass Joe do what he wanted, and that was perfectly fine with him.

Feeling bold, Glass Joe made a more decisive move. He caught the other's bottom lip between his as they parted briefly, a sweet, playful look on his face. When their mouths locked again, he then touched the other's lips with his tongue, requesting access; Von Kaiser tensed for a moment, surprised, before he parted his lips slightly in response. The other's tongue slipped in, first with hesitation and then with more confidence, touching and exploring his mouth. Von Kaiser had never kissed someone in such a way before, nor had he ever been kissed in that manner; but letting Glass Joe dominate him felt just too good. The Frenchman was truly a master at kissing, despite never having practiced much - the way his hands toyed with his hair, the way he slowly worked his tongue against the other's, everything. He was passionate and surprisingly lusty in this moment; perhaps it was in his blood. They broke apart after what seemed like years, a thin trail of saliva connecting their lips, panting for breath but nevertheless wonderfully satisfied.

"Rouler un patin," Glass Joe breathed, a smile on his face. "what people over here call a 'French kiss'. Appropriate, non?"

Von Kaiser nodded, feeling dazed; his head was still spinning from the unexpected kiss. The Frenchman laughed softly at the sight.

"You liked it?"

Another nod.

"You still think I will make a bad lover, Monsieur?"

Von Kaiser shook his head.

Glass Joe smiled his beautiful smile, his eyes shining. He caressed the other's cheek gently, moving in close again.

"Très bon," he whispered as he pulled the German boxer into yet another kiss.