Any Way You Want It

I know I've got a lot of other fanfics to write, but this just might be…the one. The one fanfic that will allow me to die happy, just because I wrote it.

If you didn't catch it from the summary, it takes place in 1985, which means we will be raping the 80's terms dictionary we found. This also is very yaoi, which means it will get very gay. But it won't be gay for quite a long time, so if you don't like the homo, then maybe you can still try and read…?

Oh, and weed! :D Btw there is so much profanity it isn't even funny, in a kind of funny way. D: Just so you know.

(Who are 'we'? 'We' are simply Kaza (the writer) and Emiggax (the artist/idea lady/'Let's talk on the phone about this for four hours and make it seem better than chocolate-frosted megacake!') This is the product of both of our imaginations. Emiggax's first, though.)

Disclaimer: We do not own DGM. I do not want it. I think. Not too sure about Emi.

ONE

January 2nd, 1985.

"WANTED – Band member. Must have lots of patience. Any instrument is welcome, but synth is most wanted. If you can't even play, then don't even bother. Come to 134 Westover Road for more details."

A white-haired teenager looked at the newspaper advertisement once more. And then he looked at the deceivingly normal home in front of him. But he was not even looking at a home, as he was at the front door, and currently staring down a pink rabbit hung like a wreath.

The sound of music was heard from within the house. He knocked on the door. "Hello?"

Nobody answered.

He knocked twice more. "Is anybody here?"

Obviously not, since nobody answered still.

The teenager frowned. "That's odd…I heard music," he thought aloud. His eyes widened in realization. "The garage."

Moving towards the garage, he folded the ad and put it in his jean pocket. The white-haired teen knocked on the garage door lightly, and waited for someone to answer. He huffed in annoyance as he stood outside. The boy found a handle at the bottom of the door, indicating that it must have been a push-up type of garage door.

He pulled it, slowly heaving the metal door up.

"Hello?"

And something swung at his neck. "Dear Lord!" But he narrowly dodged whatever it was.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Gray eyes opened up to see a tall, dark, and angry teenager standing over him, an oddly shaped guitar on his shoulder. "Wha…?"

Dark eyes narrowed. "Who…the fuck…are you?" he repeated slowly, holding the guitar like a baseball bat about to strike. "And who the fuck told you to open the door? Seriously, what the hell?"

"I—"

"See Kanda?" a voice, obviously a girl's, spoke up. "This is why we don't have another band member. You keep scaring them away!"

The teenager, Kanda, snorted. "If they shit their pants over something as small as this, then they don't deserve to fucking join." He sneered at the shocked white-haired boy on the ground and flipped the middle finger, walking away farther into the garage.

The teenager on the ground blinked.

A pale hand was offered to him. He grabbed it, thankful for some sort of help.

"I'm sorry," a tall, Asian girl said with a quirky smile. "He's not always like this, I swear!"

"Except for the part where he probably is?" the boy replied, smiling back. "I'm Allen Walker."

"Lenalee Lee. And he isn't always so…angry. Sometimes Kanda's just grumpy." Lenalee laughed lightly. "He's a blast to be around either way, so don't mind him. He's part of the reason why I asked for patience in the ad…you are here for the ad, right?"

"Oh. Oh! Of course!" Allen pulled the newspaper clipping out of his pocket. "I was knocking on the door, but nobody answered, so I almost got my head bashed off by opening the garage. What the bloody hell is wrong with that guy, anyway?"

"His name is Yuu Kanda, yes, he is Japanese," Allen closed his mouth. "He plays guitar. And, like I said before, he's just a little…grumpy."

"He tried to kill me."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it." Lenalee turned her head towards the garage. "Kanda, were you trying to kill this guy?"

"Hell yeah!" Kanda snapped back. "He had no fucking business opening the garage like that!"

She ignored him. "So…what do you play?" the girl asked, smiling.

Allen tapped his chin. "I play the violin, piano, cello, flute—"

"You know what I mean, smart guy."

He smiled. "I play the synthesizer. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Lenalee opened her mouth to answer, but was abruptly interrupted.

"Fuck!" a voice cursed loudly as the door into the house from the garage opened. A tall one-eyed redhead hopped out, several cans in his arms. "Lenalee! I dropped a cola can! Forgiveness?"

The black-haired girl rolled her eyes. "Is the can broken?"

"Uh, no… but it's on the ground now!"

"Then you can just pick it up."

"Alright!" the redhead picked up the can and held it out to Kanda. "Here Yuu, it's a token of appreciation."

"Thanks." The guitarist deadpanned, taking the can. "My token of appreciation to you will be an appreciating foot up your ass if you give me a can from the ground again."

"Right, whatever." The redhead turned around to give Lenalee her can, and cocked an eyebrow at the boy next to her. "Who are you?"

"This is Allen Walker." Lenalee introduced. "He plays synth, and didn't run off screaming at Kanda's attack."

"Fuckin' A," the guy said, impressed. "They usually shriek like pussies."

"Allen, this is Lavi." The tall girl said, patting the redhead's shoulder. "He plays drums and isn't nearly as stupid as he looks."

"Yo." Lavi greeted, grinning. The smile fell right off his face as he hit his head. "Damn! I didn't get you a soda! Hey, Yuu, did you drink yours yet?"

And empty can hit him on the face. "Okay…well…" Lavi looked down. "Here ya go." And he gave Allen his can of soda.

The white-haired teen blinked. "Why, thank you," he said, smiling.

Lavi rubbed his chin. "No problem—Wait, what did you say?" he demanded, oddly serious.

"Thank you?"

"Say it again!"

Allen looked over at Lenalee, who shrugged. "Er, thank you?" he repeated.

"Your voice, man?" Lavi said happily. "Your accent is so awesome! Where're you from? France? Germany? Russia? Well, not Russia, I think they're kinda pissed at us."

"I'm British." Allen answered uncertainly.

"Fuckin' A!" the redhead leaned closer. "Say something British!" he commanded, grinning. "Please?"

"I'm not following."

"Y'know, like 'jolly good' or 'chaps'!"

"Uh, jolly good chaps?"

Lavi clapped his hands together. "I love him already, Lenalee," he said. "He's totally in."

"The hell he is." Kanda snapped, walking up. "I bet he can't even fuckin' play synth, the fag."

There was something on the edge of Allen's mind, something that told him that he wasn't going to get along well with this guy. "And I bet you can't play the guitar, jerk," he muttered under his breath.

Kanda stared at him. "Did he just say what I think he fucking said?" he asked his band mates. "He just said that I can't play."

"I don't know, Yuu," Lavi said sarcastically. "Why don't you show him what you can do?"

"Yeah, I think I'll fuckin' do that." Kanda stepped away to get his two toned black and white guitar. "Let's see if he can at least keep up with me."

Allen snorted. "You're quite arrogant, aren't you?" he asked, annoyed.

"With good reason." Lenalee said, amused. "He's not even pretty good."

"So he sucks?"

"No, quite the opposite—"

A guitar riff started off fast, and Allen looked over at the Japanese man. The music coming from the amplifier was pumped, but the song was sped up so fast that the teen could hardly recognize it. Kanda's fingers were almost blurring at their speed, and he stared at Allen defiantly.

"Can you guess this song?" he asked cockily. "I wouldn't be freaked if you didn't. Fuckin' bunk."

"Stairway to Heaven," the British teen said, eyebrow raised. "Led Zeppelin. I'm surprised you could play it at that speed. In fact, I'm surprised anyone could play it at that speed."

"Told you." Lenalee muttered, smiling.

Kanda put his guitar back on its stand. "Now it's your turn, poser," he growled, crossing his arms.

"Alright." Allen cracked the knuckles on his right hand. "Do you have a synth?"

"Ha ha hell no." The Asian girl said. "But Komui does have a piano in the living room. Show us what you can do with that."

She led him through the door Lavi came through, which showed way through a kitchen to the exceedingly normal-looking living room with an aged classical Stanford piano pushed over to the side. "This will do, right?"

"Yes, it's just fine." Allen replied.

Lavi waggled his eyebrow at Kanda. "Aren't you totally pumped, man?" he asked. "He's, like, British!"

"Wow." Kanda deadpanned. "And Lenalee's Chinese and I'm Japanese and you are American. It's a fucking racist rainbow. Shut the fuck up."

"Harsh, Yuu, real harsh." Lavi yawned. "C'mon Brit! Let's get this show on the road!"

Allen sat on the piano bench.

He lightly tapped the minor C key, looking forward.

Kanda snorted. "Told you he fuckin' sucked."

"Be quiet!" Lenalee shushed.

Allen played a single song, humming lightly underneath his breath.

Kanda crossed his arms. "Together in Electric Dreams, Phil Oakey?" he asked.

The boy at the piano nodded, still playing.

Lavi leaned over to Kanda. "I've never heard of it. What kind of song is it?"

"Came out last year in the UK..." Kanda replied thoughtfully. "You wouldn't know it."

"Gee, thanks."

Allen abruptly stopped playing. "Is that good enough for you?" he asked Kanda who simply stared at him.

"Whatever."

:D I love editing sometimes.