Breakfast in Bed
Genres: Humor, Romance
Rating: T
Summary: Toast THIS good, you've gotta eat…slowly. / For Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker – Toastshipping Ryou x piece of toast, Tendershipping Ryou x Bakura. Crack.
A/N: Ok, let me explain the inside joke first, so no one thinks I'm too crazy for writing this. So, Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker and I were the finalists in the YGO Fanfiction Contest (Season 7) and the contest has a tradition for coming up with seriously crack-ish final pairings. The two of us were jokingly throwing around guesses and came up with the idea of Toastshipping (Ryou x piece of toast), and I promised I'd write her one. It turns out that inanimate objects probably weren't all that far off as Kashipping (Diabound x BEWD) was the actual challenge. So, now that you're all caught up, enjoy.
In this story, Ryou and Bakura have their own bodies. No explanation is offered. Canon is sort-of thrown out the window. Deal with it. xD
To further enhance your reading experience, I recommend listening to the opening of "Oh Yeah" by Yello. It will do fantastic things for your toastshipping mental images xD
Dedicated to Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker. I'm sorry I missed your birthday xD
Breakfast in Bed
Ryou was not a very kind sleeper. He was the type to roll over and move around in his sleep—once he'd rolled straight off a bunk bed at a summer camp, and since had stayed far away from any bed raised higher than twenty inches—so when he woke up that morning, yawning and stretching his arms, he thought nothing of it to roll across the bed, startling himself fully awake at the near-unmistakable clink of porcelain and silverware.
His eyes snapped open, finding with some measure of relief that he hadn't rolled straight onto the tray set on the corner of his bed. The tray was made of wicker, and upon it rested two plates, one saucer, and one teacup.
All was quiet in the house. His door was open. His window was open. In his still half-asleep haze, Ryou tried to put two and two together:
Someone broke into my house…and made me breakfast?
Oh. It clicked, suddenly. Bakura made me breakfast? Who else liked to check the security of the locks by breaking past them, and who else liked experimenting with Ryou's cooking appliances since he didn't have any of his own to use?
Well, after the last stove-top debacle, Bakura had been forbidden from using anything other than the microwave and the toaster oven. Ryou glanced down at the tray, taking in the two perfectly grilled triangles of bread, resting on top of a china plate with an unfamiliar floral pattern around the rim. Steam rose from the teacup—it must have been made and placed there recently, maybe only a few minutes before he woke up.
And there was honey and milk with the tea. In their own individualized containers! Bakura had done all of this for him?
Ryou instantly grew suspicious. Did they have a fight he couldn't remember, or did he forget their anniversary? It wouldn't be for another few weeks, right? Did he miss Bakura's birthday? Did he miss his own birthday? Ryou was so engrossed in trying to figure out why Bakura would do something like this for him that he failed to notice that the man in question was regarding him from the room's entrance with an expression of barely-concealed amusement.
"Your breakfast is getting cold, Ryou." Bakura leaned in the doorway to Ryou's room, his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a smirk and a blue-striped button-down.
"Breakfast?" Ryou looked up. "Bakura, this is just toast. And tea." There were enough little condiment jars of jam and packages of butter to make the tray look overfilled, but the actual sustenance consisted of two slices of bread and some flavored water.
Bakura seemed unperturbed. "Well, I was limited by the food available in your cupboard, Ryou—you really should go grocery shopping soon—and you might be needing a new microwave, too."
Ryou sighed. "Bakura—"
"—I was surprised all the noise didn't wake you up, but then again you do sleep like a rock, Ryou. Some would call it hibernation—"
"Bakura," he repeated.
"Eat your breakfast, Ryou." Bakura settled himself into the only chair in Ryou's room, placed opposite the door in the corner of the room. He offered the other a self-satisfied smile before continuing, "After all of my hard work, the least you could do is try it. I swear I didn't poison the marmalade."
Ryou hesitated only once before opening one of the paper-wrapped packets of butter, swiping it over one of the toast points before taking a small bite. "Thanks," he mumbled.
"You shouldn't talk with your mouth full," Bakura chastised.
Ryou glanced at the offending piece of toast, as if it had committed the oversight and not Ryou himself. "Whatever." He continued to eat.
"How is it?" Bakura asked.
Ryou chewed thoughtfully for a moment, swallowed, and paused. "It's…really good."
It was true—since when did Bakura know how to cook? Or at least cook well? The toast was grilled perfectly, was stiff without being crisp, and was the perfect golden color. The butter had melted over the top, and Ryou felt that with each new bite he had never known how delicious bread could taste until this moment.
Bakura watched Ryou complacently as he ate—he really seemed to be enjoying his breakfast.
Bakura frowned; he was enjoying his breakfast a little too much…hadn't he ever had toast before? Ryou's eyes were closed as he chewed, an expression of pure bliss on his face. When he finished the last bite he stared at his crumb-covered fingers with pure disappointment, reaching for the jar of strawberry jam and a knife to adorn the second slice of bread.
Bakura's indignation only grew when he saw the way that Ryou handled the last piece of toast, holding it gently as he made sure that the surface was evenly covered in strawberry jam. Once finished, he set the embellished toast back onto the plate, returned the jar of jam to the tray, and lifted the jam-covered knife to his lips, licking a swipe of jam from the side of the utensil.
In Bakura's opinion, it took him far too long to clean the knife. Sure, watching Ryou hold a red-streaked knife was a little thrilling, but not in this context, and not when he enjoyed it this much! Ryou was his, and he was paying far too much attention to this breakfast spread!
He calmed down when Ryou returned the knife to the tray, picked up the teacup, and took a sip. It was Earl Grey, and nowhere near Bakura's favorite, but Ryou seemed to like it.
Bakura frowned again—he must not have liked it too much, as his eyes were drawn to the still-remaining piece of toast. Ryou removed the teacup from his lips, reaching with anticipation for the slice of toast. The teacup settled gracelessly into the matching saucer, but Ryou made sure to handle the toast carefully. He licked his lips.
Bakura fumed silently from his chair. What did the toast have that he didn't? Was he so inadequate that a piece of toast could usurp his position in Ryou's heart? He'd gone and made him breakfast, but then Ryou decided that the breakfast was even more appealing than Bakura himself?
"Mmm," Ryou sighed. That was it—he was mocking him! It was all that toast's fault! He knew he should've gone for the English Muffin, but no, it had to be the toast!
He glared at the half-eaten slice of bread. It looked so innocent, sitting there in Ryou's palm with its strawberry jam covering! That harlot! It was trying to steal Ryou away from him!
Ryou licked the crumbs off of one finger. The toast wasn't just trying, it was succeeding.
How very tricky—he'd finally found a worthy opponent in this supermarket-brand loaf of bread. It had to be vanquished! He was already planning how to dispose of the remaining slices downstairs when Ryou popped the remainder of the slice into his mouth, a look of deepest distress on his face as he finished the toast.
"Bakura," he began. "Would you mind, ah, making me some more?"
Bakura glared at the breakfast tray, stood up sharply, and stormed past the open door and down the stairs.
"This is the last time I'm ever making you breakfast in bed!"
I wonder what's gotten Bakura so angry? Ryou sat dumbfounded on his bed for a moment before reaching for the teacup and taking a sip.
End.
A/N: Again, you can all blame Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker for this. I also must give her credit for the summary.
Please, tell me your thoughts on this. I'm thinking of (eventually) turning it into a series of food-driven pairings...yes/no? Reviews would be awesome.
~Jess