Chocolate…sponge cake…coconut…whipped cream…and cherries?

Raphael shook his head, making sure that it was screwed on properly and that he wasn't just imagining extra words. It was a lovely Friday morning and he had the duty to go shopping. Normally, that wouldn't be too big of a deal for him, but this turn around there was something strange about the shopping list Dartz so lovingly set up for him.

For what had seemed for the fifth time that week, they had run out of milk and orange juice, which wasn't unusual, but where did all these unused items like the whipped cream and cherries come from? Raphael could understand the chocolate—for Varon obsessed over chocolate, he could understand the sponge cake—for Amelda had it for breakfast every morning, and he could even understand the coconut—for it was Dartz's favorite drink on Saturday afternoons…but whipped cream and cherries?

He blanked out at these two items. Neither his comrades nor his master ate ice cream, and, well, excluding Varon, nobody in the household had a sweet tooth either. It truly baffled him.

It made no sense.

In the back of his mind, Raphael vaguely wondered if this had to do with Varon. After all, the young brunette was the one who had been the messenger of the list from Dartz. Maybe he had decided to get cocky and added some extra stuff on. The blonde sighed. This was no time to have doubts about his master. Whether Varon marred the shopping list or not, it was his duty to buy whatever was on it anyway. He pressed the tip of his pen to the paper and glanced down a word.

Herbal Essences.

Raphael shuddered slightly.

Sometime later, he was knocking away at Amelda's door. He wanted to ask the gray-eyed boy if there was anything that he needed from the supermarket; guns, knifes, hand grenades or any other torture instruments for a certain Seto Kaiba and whatnot but it seemed as if Amelda wasn't in his room or was just plain ignoring him. He was so irritating at times.

Raphael heaved a sigh and began moving his feet down the hallway. At least he was lucky that the redhead wasn't with Varon. Alone, he was a handful of trouble, but those together? Pffft…the world would just crumble. It seemed as if that's what they would ever do; bicker, bicker, bicker. What were they, married to each other? Seemed so. It was as if Amelda and Varon were bound together by some inexplicable force that even Master Dartz couldn't explain.

Raphael continued walking down the hallway, deeply absorbed in his own thoughts.

Those two could never keep their hands off each other; mouths constantly had to be opened, fists constantly had to fly, and hair constantly had to be pulled. They weren't merely rivals; oh no, the way Amelda constantly glared at Varon during dinner time, stabbing his spork into the plate as if the brunette's face was plastered on the meatloaf or something—and in return, how Varon would slip spiders into the redhead's clothing, laughing his head off when Amelda came dancing out of his room in the mornings.

They had it out for each other. And Raphael, for one, wouldn't be surprised if—

"—just be a sport, Amelda, and just try it!"

Raphael stopped in his tracks. Was that Varon? And Amelda? In the same room? He paused next to Varon's room, placing an ear to the door. Eavesdropping wasn't exactly polite, but one could never too careful with these two together; one minute they could be engaged in a conversation, the next—BOOM—and there goes your house and mortgage, all up in smoke.

"I don't know…"

"I promise you, it'll be fine."

"Look, this is my first time—"

"—yeah, well same here!"

A blond eyebrow quirked. First time at what? Was there something that he had missed?

Raphael backed away from the door with a firm nod. They seemed sober enough. Hopefully he could take a quick trip to the supermarket without finding the entire penthouse in flames when he arrived back. And besides, if he was interrupting something important…

"Varon, it looks rather…big."

"Well, it's not like I could help it now, mate. You know what happens over time, things grow!"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure it'll taste fine."

Their conversation was odd, yes. But lethal?

Reassuring himself that Varon and Amelda were both old enough to know that committing arson would end up with a hyperventilating Dartz and an extra week of cooking duties for all three of them, Raphael was about to leave those two alone…when he suddenly froze due to what he heard next.

"Mmm…"

That was definitely Amelda's obstructed voice. He sounded like he was eating…something. The blonde leaned closer to the door, vaguely wishing that he had x-ray vision or something. Maybe if he could just peek into the keyhole…

"Well?"

"Mmmph…"

"Now doesn't this taste good, Amelda?"

Raphael heard the redhead swallow what ever he was eating with a big gulp and panted a bit, as if to gasp for air. His eyes widened slightly. Was Amelda doing what he thought he was doing?

"Well…that was a bit…wet."

"Well, I warned you, didn't I now? I did say this WAS my first time."

"For your first time, it wasn't that bad."

"Why thank you. What a lovely compliment coming from you."

"But it was too big, I swear, I was choking on the damn thing!"

"Oh, I wouldn't be talking. You ENJOYED every moment of it."

And that confirmed all his suspicions.

Raphael paled considerably, his face now resembling a piece of notebook paper, well, without the lines at least. They were doing the forbidden 'IT' right underneath his nose, speaking of which, was about to bleed. They were FAR too young for this kind of interaction, even if Amelda was technically considered an adult age 22 and didn't Varon have a fling for Mai?

He considered dashing off and leaving a trail of billowing smoke in his wake, but his feet were glued to the floor. Apparently the fates were against him today, and Raphael was forced to stay next to his comrade's door and listen while Amelda and Varon proceed with their 'interaction hour'.

"Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?"

"Then take off your shirt."

"…but…"

"Oh, stop being such a whiner. Here, I'll help you."

Sounds of zippers being unzipped and buttons being unbuttoned fell onto his ears. There was a slight rustle of clothes before Amelda's gasp was heard. Raphael's eyes widened some more and he was now deathly pale.

"Hey, wait—whoa!"

"Isn't that better?"

"I…I guess…"

"Now, I have got something to show you…"

But Raphael never heard (he thanked God afterwards) what Varon wanted to show the redhead, because it was then and there that he was interrupted by another presence in the hallway.

"So you're deaf as well as stupid? I've been calling for your presence in the alter room for the past five minutes!" he snapped, tapping his foot in an intolerant manner.

Dartz stood in his usual haughty posture with arms laced across his chest a look of impatience written all over his features. In the back of his mind, Raphael vaguely wanted to inform his Master that five minutes was nothing compared to the three hours he had to wait, daily, for a certain Atlantean to stop occupying the only bathroom in the whole damned manor…

…but he was too busy gaping and trying to comprehend how the two sweet and wonderful (if not slightly violent) children that he grew up with were now screwing like wild rabbits.

Dartz frowned. "Didn't you just hear me? We must carry out phase two of our—"

"That feels so good…mmm…"

"—plan."

He closed his mouth.

An uncharacteristically stony expression formed on his face, and the gears to his brain stopped turning, his mind finally shutting down after all these millennia. His mouth opened again, but this time no words came out.

…

The blonde and the Atlantean stood in outside of Varon's bedroom, motionless, as if time itself had stopped in the hallway. Raphael now looked as he held a job application in his hands to be the Grim Reaper's assistant and Dartz was slowly beginning to look as if he had put on an inhumanly amount of white powder this morning.

That, or the two of them could be easily mistaken them for being one of Yami no Malik's mind-controlled puppets.

"Oh my god…Varon…" came Amelda's purr, snapping both would-be zombies out of their trance. "Yesss…"

Dartz finally blinked.

The gears began turning again, if not a bit more slowly this time. Comprehension finally dawned upon him, eyes bulged, his mouth gaped, and Raphael had to hastily dart forward and restrain his master from bursting into the room and giving those two a piece of his mind.

"Varon, ah, it's really getting hot in here. Let's close that—"

"—oh no, ya ain't getting off that easily."

He heard Varon reach into a drawer and then shuffle his way over to Amelda.

"…Varon?"

Snap.

An overly gleeful squeal was heard from him.

Snap. Snap.

"Naughty little thing, aren't ya now?"

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Raphael let go of his master's arms and stood, agape. God-forbidden mental images began swarming his mind, most of them consisting of a certain brunette clad in a dominatrix outfit, complete with the chains and collars and expertly flicking a leather whip in one of his hands. He blanched at the very thought.

But there was no time to smack himself, because another picture popped into his head the very next second. This one consisted of Amelda, bound and gagged, handcuffed to the bedpost, naked in all his shirtless glory. He blanched even more.

Snap. Snap—

"—OW!"

There was a dull thud, signifying that Amelda must have jumped up in pain. Raphael wiped his mind clean and bit his lip, slightly worried. Someone could really get hurt here. Dartz, on the other hand, was currently biting his fingernails and wondering if it was necessary to post some 'Help Wanted' ads in the newspaper.

"…Varon, we have a problem."

"Uh oh," there was genuine worry in his voice. Outside the room, ceruleans widened in fear and fingernails were being bit at in an inhumanely velocity.

A pause

Raphael leaned closer to the door. Dartz plugged his ears.

"…looks as if it's stuck."

His nose was ready to begin bleeding again. Next to him, Dartz fell to the floor with a dull thud, but Raphael paid no heed. He was, once again, in too much shock. Of all the things…stuck? STUCK?

"We've already established that, genius," came Amelda's sarcastic reply. "Now get it out, the damn thing hurts!"

"Good lord…"

"I told you not to use that three-pronged one!"

"Yada, yada. Calm down, mate. Let's just pull it out."

"There is NO way—OWWWWW!"

"You…you ok?"

"Ow—"

"Am I hurting you?"

"Yes…ahh…just adjust over a bit—good!"

"Oh, yes…"

"Varon, harder! HARDER!"

Raphael was truly tomato red by now with beads of sweat dripping down his face. It was embarrassing as hell. This was so damned WRONG. His once pure, virgin mind was now tainted and warped beyond measures, thanks to these two. He swore to himself that once Dartz woke up, he would get down on his knees and beg his master for a week's vacation to Hawaii. But in the meanwhile, he better hang on…it wouldn't look too good for either of them if Varon opened the door and found both two bodies sprawled unconscious on the ground right in front of his bedroom.

Within a few minutes, (to him it seemed as if eons had passed) a final cry and a satisfied grunt finally reached his ears, and the blonde couldn't help but thank God that it was finally all over.

"Oh dear lords, Amelda…now that…" Varon gasped. "…that took a LOT of energy!"

"You're telling me. I'm dead-beat tired…and now I'm hungry. Give me another one," came Amelda's irritated reply.

"You sure like mine, doncha' now?"

"Can it, Varon. Just give me the damn thing, I don't have all day."

"Fine…"

Raphael's eyes bulged from his head. They do that…again? And he would have to suffer through their horrible moaning and grunting with bad mental images entering his head up like constant pop-up ads? No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO! Huge warnings signs flashed in his mind; the message was clear in big, bold, red letters: DO NOT LET THEM DO IT AGAIN! He would put an end to this madness right now!

Without a second thought, Raphael seized hold of the doorknob and yanked the door open—

"AMELDA AND VARON, THERE IS NO WAY—"

Baby-blue eyes looked up, confused. Sullen gray eyes glanced sideways, uninterested.

…

Raphael immediately closed his mouth. The first thing he noticed was that there was an unusual smell present in the room. Not the thick, sultry odor of hot sex but rather a nice, soothing aroma, like the scent of freshly grounded coffee beans at the local café.

The second thing Raphael noticed was that Amelda and Varon were in no way sexual bonding. The two of them were merely sitting on a bed; one buried his face in a hard-copied book, the other in an Indian cross-legged position on the blankets. There was evidence whatsoever that they had done the God-forbidden 'it.'

Well…maybe the brunette was a bit distraught looking and the redhead had his tank-top stripped off for some unknown reason, but apart from that it looked as if neither had done anything too physical with each other.

Hopefully.

"What's the problem, Raph?" Varon finally broke the silence. "Did somebody die? Did Dartz die?" he added hopefully. Raphael glared back.

"No," he replied flatly. "It's just…" —he paused—"…nothing."

Amelda snorted at his response, making the black-clad man glanced over at him. Raphael suddenly noticed that he was eating a pastry for the first time. Raphael tilted his head slightly, also realizing that there was a…oven…currently present in the room.

He shook his head. An oven?

"I doubt it was nothing. You came rushing in with your arms in the air and screamed bloody murder about something or the other. You call that nothing?" Amelda responded tonelessly.

Raphael pointed to the oven. "Hey, what's that?" he abruptly asked, causing the redhead to quirk an eyebrow at the sudden change of subject. However, Varon immediately perked up and rushed over. In his hands held a silver-tinted platter dotted with little cakes smothered in some thick, brown substance.

"Lamingtons!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "Homemade recipe, from Australia of, course!"

The blonde quirked an eyebrow, still unable to grasp what the Hell was going on.

"Try one, I promise they're good," the armor-clad boy beamed and then snuck a little glance in Amelda direction before whispering, "He thinks they're good, so they gotta be good."

"I said they were ok for your first time!" he hollered back, making Varon's beam turned into a scowl. Amelda shut his book and leaped off the bed. He strode his way over to where the other two bikers were standing and nudged his head at the younger boy.

"Be careful, Raph, those things are way too big to eat in one bite. I nearly choked on one and died," the redhead warned seriously. He shot an accusing glare at Varon, who in return, glared back.

Raphael face-faulted.

So THAT was what all the moaning and groaning was about. He was an idiot, a pure idiot to think that there was any sexual interaction going on between these two. But it still didn't explain the snapping sounds that pattered from inside the room and the whole 'it's stuck!' incident.

The blonde frowned. "…did anything happen before you finished baking?" he asked, choosing his words carefully, making sure that neither of the two found out what his true intentions were.

Varon cocked his head. "Well…we played blackjack," —he shot a mischievous grin at the gray-eyed boy— "I beat Amelda six times straight!"

Amelda frowned in response. "Correction, Varon. You beat me four times; and that was only because my fingers were too sore to play because a certain someone decided to pulverize them in the oven!"

He stuck out his tongue. "It wasn't my fault your puny fingers got crushed!"

"Now, how could you say something like that?"

"What," Raphael finally interrupted before things got out of hand, "are you two talking about?"

The duo stopped quarreling for a few seconds. Amelda snorted and glanced in Varon's direction.

"Aussie here jammed the oven's door. You should have been here a few minutes ago…it was so damn hot in the room."

Another glare was shot at him. "It was an ACCIDENT."

Another glare was shot back at him. "Anyhow…we tried everything," Amelda stated flatly and shoved his arms across his chest. "Oiling it, shoving it, beating it with a stick."

Beating it with a stick…? Raphael quirked an eyebrow. Who did that kind of stuff? And where do they get these ideas? But then again, he was dealing with these two…

Seeing his odd reaction, Varon quickly explained, "It'll loosen the pressure so we'd be able to bust it open," —he flashed a grin— "and it was my idea!"

Amelda rolled his eyes. "Yeah, great idea, Einstein. Until the stick was stuck as well."

He ignored the redhead and glanced back at Raphael. "Yeah, so basically, we had to pull the stick out. Took us forever."

"We—" the gray-eyed boy scoffed. "Yeah, we. You did practically nothing. I kept telling you to pull, 'Harder, Varon, HARDER!' but did you listen? No!"

He frowned. "Hey, if I remember correctly, Amelda, you're the pansy of the group!"

"Me? A pansy? Oh I'll—"

"—let me just try one…" Raphael finally growled, irritated beyond measures. The two immediately shut up.

Varon held the platter out. He cautiously plucked a cake out of the platter, slightly worried that it was going to grow fangs and bite his finger. Raphael inspected it with narrowed eyes. It was a chocolate coated cube of sponge cake, rolled in desiccated coconut and topped served with whipped cream and a little cherry on top. The blonde poked it. It looked normal enough.

So that's where all the whipped cream went. And the cherries. It took a few moments to realize that's where all the chocolate and sponge cake and the rest ingredients had went as well. Into Varon's cooking.

Raphael heaved a silent sigh of relief, finally putting all his worries to rest. He inwardly smacked himself for being so stupid. How could he be so easily fooled into thinking that Amelda and Varon were doing…you-know-what.

The Australian was merely exercising his cooking skills—and as strange and odd as that was, he had every right to do so. Coming to that conclusion, the Raphael popped the whole lamington into his mouth, nodding in approval at the brunette as he swallowed the cake.

Varon grinned. "Told ya it was good!"

There was a rustling of clothes, and the three bikers turned around to find their master finally recovering from his unconscious state.

"Ah…what has happened?" he mumbled groggily. Dartz shook his head to clear his thoughts and comprehend his surroundings. Golden and aqua eyes instantly glared into the room at the misplaced kitchen appliance and then shot daggers at Varon.

"Child, since when did you have an oven in your upstairs bedroom?" he demanded.

Varon smiled sheepishly in response. "Uh, since…" —he blinked— "…yesterday?"

"Indeed," the Atlantean muttered darkly, obviously not believing a word he said. Mismatched eyes narrowed into tiny slits as he suddenly remembered the recent turn of events. Dartz immediately directed his attention onto the two bikers. "And what were you doing before—"

"—it's nothing, Dartz-sama," Raphael cut in before Varon and Amelda could reply. He shot a reproachful look at his master, signifying him to be quiet and that he'll be told everything that was needed to be known later.

Dartz seemed to get the message, but pouted nonetheless, earning himself a strange look from his other two subordinates.

"Never mind then...I shall leave now" —he shot a threateningly glare at his minions— "and I expect all three of you to be at the alter room within the next five minutes, understand me?"

Amelda and Varon nodded obediently, but Raphael merely shook his head.

"Sorry, but I must be excused from the meeting this time."

Dartz quirked a questioning eyebrow. "Why, pray tell?"

The blonde paused. "I must go…err…shopping," he responded. There was a slight snicker from Varon, but nobody paid any heed to him.

A frown entered the Atlantean's expression. "Fine, fine. Just be back soon."

He dismissed his most faithful servant with a wave of the hand. He proceeded to saunter out the door in a causal manner before pausing and glancing around.

"And Raphael" —the blonde glanced up— "don't forget my Herbal Essences!" Dartz exclaimed and shut the door behind him.

Raphael shuddered slightly.