Standard disclaimers apply.
Author's Notes:
Inspiration for this fic literally hit at six o'clock in the morning (quite a remarkable feat as it was a little past three when I crawled into bed) when I jolted awake to the mental image of Kazuki eating a donut. For some reason. Said image later developed into a plot-bunny, which stuck with me long enough to persuade me to write this pathetic excuse for a fic. So yeah…
Warnings: Unbeta-ed, made-up words, OOC, pointless, plotless, overdone attempt at humor bordering on crack!fic-ness, randomness, sleep-deprived author operating on pure caffeine and sugar… This fic is best read with a couple of donuts and a steaming cup of mocha java. Otherwise, fear for your sanity. You have been warned. I shall not tolerate flames concerning the above-mentioned. Thank you. And yes, to those who haven't figured out as much yet, I am a crazy, demented, mentally disturbed bitchfreak. So yeah…
No donuts have been harmed in the actual making of this fic.
DONUTS AND DEAD LANGUAGE
By: Ryuuen
Drink to me only with thine eyes
And I will pledge with mine.
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
And I'll not look for wine.
Granted that said verse has nothing to do whatsoever with what passes for this story's plot and is merely a lame attempt on the part of the author to begin an otherwise pointless story with style, one Midou Ban still found it an extremely appropriate, albeit eloquent way of describing his current train of thought.
It had been a lazy day in December, as all Sundays in December were wont to be. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the bees were buzzing, the plot-bunnies were humping and procreating at such speeds previously thought impossible, consequently driving an already stressed fanfiction writer to the brink of insanity… But, I digress, as the sun and the birds and the bees, let alone the plot-bunnies of doom™, have nothing to do with this fic either. Let us, therefore, just suffice it to say that it was a perfectly normal Sunday in December and Midou Ban was bored out of his mind.
Of course, Ban being bored meant he had to resort to finding ways of entertaining himself. Ginji was helping Natsumi out in the kitchen (though he had suspicions on what exactly helping out entailed) and he was left on his own, at the counter, sipping his currently unpaid-for mug of black coffee (with a certain café owner glaring at him over the top of the newspaper he was reading, never mind if said periodical were held upside down), and chain-smoking so badly, some random customers were seriously considering contacting the fire department. Of course, whether he indulged in said cancerous habit out of boredom and the resulting need to do something or just to spite aforementioned café owner was a matter of opinion. So yeah… Midou Ban was bored out of his mind and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Anyone, except…
"Good morning, Paul-san."
Bells tinkled cheerfully in the background as someone approached the counter, hair and the end of his shirt trailing dramatically behind him. For, in fact, the newcomer was a he and whoever claimed otherwise would've been promptly introduced to the ceiling. There was no doubt who it was. Ban smirked.
Finally, a suitable source of entertainment.
"Oi, Itomaki."
Fuuchouin Kazuki blinked, depositing a rectangular box on the counter carefully.
"Oh… Ban-kun," he greeted, barely masking his surprise and disappointment. "I didn't know you were here."
Ban suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
"Geez, Thread Spool, you really know how to make a guy feel appreciated, don't you?"
Kazuki merely raised an elegant brow, refusing to dignify the rhetorical question with a response. Instead, he signaled to Paul, wrinkling his nose delicately at the smell of cigarette smoke, and seating himself as far away from the Jagan master as he could.
"One mochaccino, please."
Paul acquiesced readily, muttering under his breath about how he wished some people who were to remain nameless would follow a certain strings master's example and actually pay their bills as they were incurred.
Ban grumbled.
Kazuki tried to stifle a giggle. Tried being the operative word.
Ban was not amused. (Though, if truth be told, Ban had to admit that the sound of Kazuki's giggle, though doing nothing to salvage the beautiful man's almost nonexistent masculinity, was just too damn… cute?)
"Oi, Itomaki."
"Yes, Ban-kun?"
"Mind if I sit here?"
Kazuki eyed the other as he would a rabid chipmunk. Ban had risen from his corner, taking both chipped mug and ashtray with him, and had made his way down the length of the counter to occupy the stool beside the Fuuchouinryuu heir. It, in itself, should've gone without incident but then…
Their eyes met and for a moment, it was as if everything had melted away and there was only the two of them. And Ban had the sneaky suspicion something definitely wasn't right when random sakura petals started falling in the background as pastel colored shiawase bubbles™ floated by. It was as though, by some weird, freak accident, they suddenly found themselves in a cheesy, awfully clichéd shoujo manga and were, for no particular reason, about to do something very fan service-y. Thankfully, (or not, if one were to ask the author and some random Ban/Kazuki fan girls), Paul had chosen that exact time to interrupt their moment, stomping on aforementioned shiawase bubbles™ and squishing the unfortunate sakura petals under his shoes. Kazuki coughed his thanks, refusing to meet Ban's gaze.
Silence. And then…
Kazuki sighed.
"Suit yourself, Ban-kun. You may sit wherever you like." And, as though he felt it were the most normal thing to do in the world after such an unsettling experience, he opened the box he brought and smiled innocently, "Donuts?"
"What?" Ban blinked, still slightly disoriented from the weird-ass shoujo manga encounter.
"Donuts," Kazuki repeated, gesturing to the currently open box. "I bought some on the way here. I was hoping to share them with Ginji but seeing as he isn't around…"
"Right," Ban intoned, shaking his head and taking the now offered seat. He took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke effectively getting rid of whatever bubbles or petals or what-not were left. "So, Itomaki?"
"Yes, Ban-kun?" And Kazuki had to bite his lower lip to keep himself from commenting that they had gone over the same dialogue for all of three times in the course of their conversation and a certain spiky-haired Jagan master really needed to get himself better pick-up lines. Not that he wanted to be picked-up, so to speak. Not at all. But still…
Ban, for his part, seemed oblivious to anything but his currently failing attempts to strike up a conversation with the other. He took the last puff from his cigarette before stubbing it out on the overflowing ashtray and, out of habit, reaching into his pocket for another and his lighter when…
"Damn!"
"Excuse me?"
Ban sulked pitifully.
"I ran out of cigarettes."
"What?"
"I said, I ran out of cigarettes."
The rest of the customers cheered.
Ban glared his shut-up-or-you-die glare, which he had to admit, was pilfered from a similarly chain-smoking Buddhist monk of questionable character.
The Honky Tonk had never been more silent.
Ban smirked, before turning his attention back to his companion who was watching the entire scene with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
Random sakura petals floated by once again and he glared them away.
"So, Kazuki?"
Kazuki merely blinked.
A tumbleweed passed.
"Hey, Kazu-chan, aren't you supposed to reply, 'Yes, Ban-kun?' looking all pretty and uke-like?" Tare-Ginji piped up from the kitchen.
Ban gritted his teeth.
"Will you excuse me for a moment?"
There was an almost murderous glint in those blue-violet eyes that made Kazuki nod and edge away from him warily.
"Thank you," was all Ban said before he stomped into the kitchen. Silence, and then…
"Kazu-chan! Kazu-chan! Ban-chan's trying to…"
"Shut up, you stupid idiot! I don't interfere with your futile attempts at non-canon, out-of-character flirting and I expect the same from you, you damn…"
"Ban-kun, I don't think Ginji-kun could…"
"Kazu-chan! Kazu-chaaaaaaaaaaan!"
Everybody within hearing range i.e. within a five mile radius, sweatdropped.
"Err, Kazuki. Don't you think you should do something about your boyfriend, there? It wouldn't be good for business if he were actually to kill someone in the kitchen, you know. Bad vibes and all that."
Kazuki was nonplussed.
"Midou-san is not my boyfriend, Paul-san."
"Sure, he isn't."
The Fuuchouin bells tinkled ominously.
"You were saying…"
Ban took the opportunity to saunter back into the café, a smug grin upon his face, and reassume his previous seat.
"So, where were we?"
"You called me Kazuki?"
"What?"
"I said, you called me Kazuki. Not Itomaki or Yarn Ball or Thread Spool or Kitten."
Ban blinked. "I don't call you Kitten, Itomaki."
"…"
"Would you like me to call you Kitten?"
Silence, save for random giggles and purrs from the peanut gallery.
"Or maybe…"
"Ban-kun?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
Ban sighed. Kazuki hadn't taken kindly to the whole name-calling ordeal and had, in a blur of strings and more strings, banished him to whence he came. Though, Ban had to admit, it was worth seeing Kazuki blush, glare, blush, stutter, blush and stutter again for good measure. Oh, and he didn't think it helped his case much when he commented how pink suited the Fuuchouinryuu master just fine.
And thus did he come to find himself once again sitting in the corner, albeit grudgingly, smoking a cigarette from a pack he had conned Paul into letting him have for free. And thus, too, did he come to content himself with merely watching from a distance as Kazuki began polishing off what was left of his stash of donuts. He had given most of them to Ginji in apology for his boyfriend's ("He is not my boyfriend!") violent behavior and was now left with only one: a Boston Crème. Ban was disgruntled, of course, seeing as he had lost his only escape from boredom, but, then again…
Watching Kazuki wasn't exactly boring. If he were being honest with himself (and he was, as he has always believed it pointless to be otherwise), he had always enjoyed watching people when he hadn't anything better to do, observing them as they went about such menial tasks as eating and drinking or looking out the window. It was one of his more idle hobbies, save smoking, and one that provided him with as much entertainment, depending on his subject. And with Kazuki…
Kazuki was indeed a thing to behold, Ban had to admit, even more so like that. Slender fingers holding the confection up to rosy, soft-looking lips pursed slightly, taking small bite after small bite, before chewing them slowly, thoroughly, then swallowing gracefully, pink tongue darting out once in a while to lick a stray crumb or smear of cream away from said lips in such an enticing manner that had Ban holding his breath throughout the entire display. Brown eyes half-lidded, cheeks near-flushed, brown hair framing his face just-so... And those lips. There was no other word Ban had to describe him: Beautiful.
Then Kazuki was looking at him curiously, and too late did Ban realize that he had spoken out loud. And yet… Ban watched in fascination as Kazuki brought the remaining morsel of donut to his mouth, all the while fixing Ban with an indecipherable look. He pushed the piece in slowly, deliberately, chewed, swallowed, before bringing his chocolate-coated fingers to his mouth and licking them clean, one by one, lingering on each for far longer than strictly necessary. Ban found it hard to swallow. Kazuki kept looking at Ban with such an intensity as he finished and so absorbed was he in the moment that he could have barely stopped the words before they came…
"Speak to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine…"
And Ban knew there was something infinitely wrong with him if he has started quoting antiquated poetic crap that some random dead guy wrote for his beloved. (Though he couldn't really blame said random dead guy if his beloved were half as decent-looking as the one before him.)
Kazuki blinked at him, as though he weren't sure if he had heard right. A sigh, and then, he smiled. And there was something in that smile and a twinkle in those eyes that made Ban want to take things to a very non-PG level right there and then. His voice was sultry when he spoke.
"Ban-kun?"
And it was all Ban could do not to cross the distance between them and show him that there were other, more pleasurable things one could do with one's lips besides talking and eating.
"Yeah?"
A smile. And then…
"You're drooling, Ban-kun."
"What?"
Kazuki giggled.
"I wouldn't blame you, though."
"…"
"Donuts are such delightful little things, aren't they? Too bad there aren't any left."
"Yeah, too bad."
A rustle of cloth, a flurry of movement.
"Ban-kun, what are you… mfph…"
Paul stared.
Tare-Ginji smiled.
Natsumi squee-ed.
Ban/Kazuki fan girls all over the world fainted in fan girlish glee as Ban pulled the surprised strings master towards him and kissed him. Thoroughly. Passionately. Almost pornographically. Sakura petals began falling, shiawase bubbles™ floated by, not unlike the previously disrupted shoujo manga fanservice-y scene. But they didn't care.
Or leave a kiss but in the cup and I'll not look for wine.
Ban's smirk was smug as he finally pulled away. Kazuki was too busy trying to breathe and telling himself not to blush at the same time. Which was quite difficult as Ban had pinned him against the counter in a rather compromising position.
No words were exchanged.
Suffice it to say that Ban got his taste of donuts after all.
End.
Crappy, wasn't it? Didn't make sense at all, did it? Well, good! It wasn't supposed to! And I know a lot of you would like to bash my head in for wasting my precious vacation time writing this crap when I could've been writing other things more worth your while but this idea amused the hell out of me. So yeah… Like it? Love it? Hate it so much you'd like to do unspeakable/anatomically impossible things to me for it? Tell me what you think.
Oh and, yeah, I'm willing to grant a wish-fic to the first person to give me the complete title of the poem from which the italicized verse in the beginning was derived as well as identify which random dead guy wrote it. So, review, leave your e-mail address and I'll get back to you if you're the lucky (or unlucky, whichever you prefer) one.
Oh, and Happy New Year, y'all! Ja!