Shadow:For the semi-final round of Compy's contest - the pairing this time is Shotshipping – Bandit Keith x Ryou Bakura. I'm seriously beginning to wonder what goes on in the contest hostesses' head (and no, this isn't the first time I've had to wonder), but her devious little concoctions make for some interesting reactions when you're standing in a crowded airport, receive the new pairing by text and shriek 'what?!' Baggage carousels hurt when you hit them people, I do assure you. My kneecap will bear testimony.

Notes: Obviously, shonen-ai, boy x boy, with a bit of language. Contains het as well, with mentions of quite a few other pairings beside the contest one. Don't like? Don't read.

The story below is based on The Judgement of Paris taken from Greek Mythology, though I've mutilated it quite a bit. And changed the ending. Enjoy?

For the Fairest

The gods are capricious and whimsical, and will do whatever chances through their minds simply because they can. When one lives an endless life one must keep one's self endlessly amused, and to say deities can bear a grudge a long time is a slight understatement.

The gods are somewhat idiotic and are possibly even worse than humans in terms of sin – no, they definitely are worse, since they control the afterlife anyway they have no fears of getting dumped in hell.

Being a god sounds a relatively interesting life, but one can only hope the deities above have the heavenly equivalent of a painkiller else by their own arguments and fractions they'll guarantee themselves divinely monstrous headaches eon after eon after eon.

A divine headache certainly sounds like a pain.

It had been a quiet day in the Hallways of the Heavens, and so it really didn't come as all that much of a surprise to the occupant of one of the many Rooms of Residence when his entrance doors were flung open and a white blur streaked past him, the wind in the intruder's wake sending loose papers about the room flying into the air as the trespasser lifted the lid of and dived into a nearby empty decorative pot. The lid dropped again with a fearsome rattle, and then the room was still once more.

Seto Kaiba, too used to this occurrence to be truly startled, merely bent down and picked up his fallen papers, returning the sheaves to their rightful places before crossing to the decorative pot, lifting the lid and addressing the occupant: "What did you do this time?"

Divine blood may have flowed through his veins, but the white-haired and silver-clad Ryou Bakura looked most fearful and furtive as he peered up at the brunet out of his hiding place. "…I take it Malik isn't here then yet?" The Messenger of the Heavens, as Ryou Bakura was known, was well-renowned for the mischief he caused and the sea of angry people usually trailing in his wake – but that was only one of his personalities. Two souls took up residence in the one pretty head, and while 'Ryou' was the meek, obedient messenger 'Bakura' delighted in the bright havoc he caused – and it was Bakura who had taken up the habit of hiding in Kaiba's pot. It was a big pot, and quite comfortable too.

Kaiba crossed his arms. "…Do you expect Malik to be here anytime soon?" The King of the Heavens had gifted Ryou Bakura with a remarkable pair of winged sandals which made him faster than the wind – anyone wanting to give the albino grief had to catch him before they could bend his ear, and with his winged sandals it was quite a difficult task. "Only I'd like to know so I can put up the barricades and pretend I'm not home."

Bakura looked reproachful. "Now that's not very nice -" Malik Ishtar's irate voice could suddenly be heard ranting out in the hallway outside Kaiba's rooms at near sonic decibels (something about his favourite shirt), and Heaven's messenger cringed and pressed himself even further down into his pot. "Whatever he says I did, I didn't do it."

"Right," Kaiba didn't look convinced. He did put the pot lid back down again though and moved away from it, trying to look occupied so when the bristling Malik Ishtar finally strode into his rooms in a swirl of lavender-tinted robes (and just how had he got the cloth that colour anyway?) Kaiba didn't look as though he was sheltering a fugitive from Justice.

"Where is he?" Malik didn't waste time with niceties, irritation evident in the downward-sweeping curve of his mouth, in the flickering purple flames in the deity's eyes. Hell hath no fury than the god charged with riding the sun across the sky, and Bakura had been causing trouble for Malik since the day of his birth.

"Who?" Kaiba affected confusion, looking up from a book he had been pretending to peruse.

"Bakura." A quite feminine and/or childish stamp of the foot from Malik, but Kaiba didn't feel like pointing the fact out to his fellow god and companion for fear of what other tortures Malik could inflict on the brunet's poor eardrums. "Where are you hiding him?"

Kaiba lowered his book, thoughtfully marking the page. "…What's the troublesome idiot done to you this time, Ishtar?"

"He stole my shirt!" A most anguished wail.

…Is that it? Kaiba kept his face clear of the sneering comments floating through his mind. "Which one?" Malik had many, many shirts, and that in itself was a woeful understatement. Half of the Heavens seemed to be devoted to Malik's wardrobe at times, the blond divinity's array of outfits equal only to the vast collections of shoes owned by Heaven's Queen and the Goddess of 'Love'.

"What do you mean, 'which one'?! He took my favourite one!" Malik's voice really was beginning to hurt Kaiba's head, the pitch and tone was near deafening, and Kaiba really had no ambitions to spend the rest of his immortal life completely unable to hear. "I was planning to wear it to this evening's banquet." The wedding banquet was for their fellow deity, Shizuka, and the mortal Heaven's King had picked out for her, a young man by the name of Honda.

Tact was needed. "…Didn't you wear that one a few days ago?" Nothing would get rid of Malik quicker than his own vanity, and the very thought the blond could wear the same item of clothing within the space of a week –

Utter horror. "I didn't, did I?"

"I think so…"

Malik fled the room. "I need to find something to wear!"

Kaiba watched him go with smug satisfaction, relishing the ensuing quiet. Peace, perfect peace –

And the hissed stage-whisper from the decorative pot: "Is he gone yet?"

"Well if he isn't," Kaiba wryly retorted, "than I rather think you just gave yourself away with that question."

Hearing no shrieks from an incensed Malik, the pot lid went up slightly, white bat-wings of hair sticking up above a pair of watchful eyes. "You mock me." The stealer of shirts sounded vaguely resentful.

"And you give me something worthwhile to mock." Kaiba picked up his abandoned book once more and actually attempted to start reading it as the other laboriously clambered out of the pot. "Shouldn't you be used to it by now? You've been running to hide in my pottery for a good while now, and you've yet to present me a face I don't find utterly ludicrous."

"If you found me totally ludicrous you wouldn't tolerate my presence as much as you do," Bakura sniped, sitting on the pot rim looking sulky. "Kaiba Seto won't stand for total idiots."

"And yet I seem to have this habit of entertaining partial ones." Kaiba determinedly didn't look up at his irritating companion, much to Bakura's annoyance.

The white-haired god, pouting, folded his arms across his chest and regarded the one whose rooms he always seemed to flee to when being pursued by angry hordes, falling silent for a little time as he took note of Kaiba's disinterest, the familiar lines and angles of the other's quite pleasing face and form. From the very air he was so fond of outstripping in a race Bakura plucked a question, tossing it in an almost aggrieved manner to his fellow deity. "Why won't you let me woo you?"

Blue eyes snapped up with all the pinpoint precision of a laser, and Bakura raised his chin in defiance and defence in the face of the derision immediately colouring Kaiba's words. "You? 'Woo'?" Scorn piled up upon scorn. "I didn't think you'd be capable of such a courtly action."

Airily: "Kaiba Seto, though you seemingly have a mouth made of ambrosia you must have the teeth of an asp."

Those beautiful fangs bared for the flash of an instant, lips twisted in a perfect smirk that sent a thrill of delight scudding through the Messenger. Kaiba Seto was a sight to behold when he decided to play. "I only bite occasionally."

Bakura slipped from his seat, quicksilver in the ether-light, crossing one leg beneath his torso as he took up another spot beside the brunet of his current attentions with one hand tracing feather-patterns on the front of Seto's robes. "What about if I ask?" His smile was confident, languid; his breath lazy as the summer winds that would often twirl over the earth so far, far below. Kaiba Seto close enough to kiss, close enough to see the vague sparks of interest in pools of blue even the Sea-King would envy.

"No." Bakura sighed dramatically, collapsing his head with aplomb upon his companion's shoulder when the other rejected him yet again. "I'm 'taken'."

"…If Mazaki ever finds out you know she'll gouge your eyeballs out with her fingernails, right?" This was asked cheerfully. "If she's feeling particularly inventive she might even turn you into a llama."

"Why a llama?"

"Why not a llama? She's certainly done the rest of the animal kingdom on her husband's other swains."

"I think I'd rather be a bird of some sort."

"Well," was Bakura's pleasant reply, "I'm sure if you ask her very, very nicely she might spare you a 'no way in hell' before just outright murdering you for your impudence."

Kaiba rolled his eye, and shoved his would-be suitor off of him, only just restraining his smirk when the other ungracefully thumped into the floor. "Go bother the King; he always delights in your wit."

"But he threatened to kill me five times yesterday!" His companion whined, getting to his feet and rubbing the back of one calf with his other foot.

"Really?" Was the unsympathetic answer, "you must be getting somewhat more tolerable then. That's an improvement on the day before." Kaiba grabbed the other's arm while the Messenger was still unbalanced, hauling the albino to the door and putting the other out despite his protests.

Bakura pouted at him from the other side of the entrance. "Don't I at least get a kiss goodbye?"

Kaiba shut the door in his face.

The throne room was large and clean and blessedly empty when Bakura slouched into it, still grumbling to himself about grouchy gods who didn't have a sense of humour. The Messenger of the Heavens had had to duck for cover from a prissy Malik at least three times after Kaiba had flung him from his room, and Bakura was a little irritated. The blond deity was slowly getting smarter to Bakura's ways, which made it all that much harder to play a trick upon him of some sort – and really, that was a crying shame. Sure, Bakura loved the thrill of actually being a little tested to pull off his various misdeeds, but Malik was taking all the fun out of it with the earaches he gave his – so-called – white-haired friend afterwards.

Vexed, Bakura stomped over to his usual haunt by the throne, about to take a seat on the steps of the dais beside it but –

The throne was empty. The very idea was fascinating to Bakura; wouldn't it be fascinating to anyone? Logically Bakura knew the King wouldn't keep his divine butt parked on the chair 24/7 but still. The throne was empty. Usually it was full of the power and the fire of the monarch but both it and the seat of the Queen were bare. Entranced, Bakura found himself ascending the dais, pale hands trailing over the arm of the golden throne –

"Have you ever been tied down to a giant rock for an era and had your liver torn out by hungry birds day after day after day? I've heard it's quite agonising."

There was a long pause, before Bakura slid his hand from the throne, his back still to the one who'd spoken. "You know, Majesty," he turned about, his expression wry, "you can sometimes be an awfully scary person."

Yami smiled at him, and his eyes were cold, and his lips were thin. "I try." Lightning, the weapon of the King, crackled about his form, flickering light that played over divine skin. His crimson gaze looked at his messenger, affronted, warning. "You're blocking the way to my throne."

"Hm," Bakura cleared out of the way a little sulkily, "like I'd want it anyway." Yami's only reply was a snort, the monarch rising the steps with his usual infallible grace and taking his rightful place. Aside, and muttering under Bakura's breath: "It's probably too short for me anyway." Yami shot him a laser glare from under kohl-lined lashes, but before he could open his mouth to scold or complain another wail cut through the room.

"Yami!" Malik running in, still looking utterly distraught. The god's vanity was endless, really. It was just a shirt Bakura had taken – one, from thousands upon thousands! Talking of said shirts, Bakura tried to make himself scarce. "I've been -" lavender eyes narrowed in on the trying-to-slip-away-quietly albino, "-you!" Too late.

Malik dived for Bakura right about the point Bakura tried to take flight, and somehow or other both of them were in the air for about three seconds before they crashed into the marble floor, a tangle of limbs and hair and snarls. There was yelling; there was cursing, and there was nail-scratching and hair-pulling galore. The two supposedly mature gods rolled around the floor like two prepubescent girls fighting over a sparkly t-shirt and –

Wait. They were fighting over a t-shirt.

Oh.

Yami eventually grew tired of the hissing and spitting, breaking the two up when it looked like Malik was throttling Bakura (and actually succeeding; the albino had gone an interesting shade of blue) by sending in a well-placed thunderbolt. Both deities separated with a yelp, Bakura collapsing on his back with one hand to his throat, panting for breath.

The King of the gods turned to Malik, stating rather flatly: "You're not coming to the banquet this evening."

"What?! That's not fair!"

Yami remained firm. "Whatever Bakura's done it's useless stooping to his level – Malik, haven't I warned you against this childishness before?"

"But-"

"No buts!"

"You should punish him as well!"

"Oh, I will." Yami promised, shooting an annoyed glance at the messenger still wheezing at the base of the dais steps. "But with Bakura's hatred of social events I find forcing him to attend the banquet is a more deserving fate for him than otherwise."

Malik sulked. "That's still unfair."

"I frankly don't care."

"But-"

"What did I say about buts?"

Malik's eyebrows drew together in an almighty scowl, and he stomped from the room with all the flounce his robes afforded him. The silvery Bakura, having got his breath back by that point, raised his head from the floor to address the King, "So you do love me after all."

"Nonsense," Yami was studying his nails as he so crushingly squished the other's vague hopes at getting off scot free, "I just don't want my beloved wife bothering me about the blood on the floor."

"Can I go now?"

"No."

"Can I go now?"

"No."

"Can I go now?"

"No!"

Bakura sighed – loudly and theatrically -, slumping back into his seat with a frown plastered firmly over his face. He'd been asking to leave the banquet for a good half hour and been extra-especially annoying to the one withholding his freedom in the hopes the King would grow so sick of him he'd be glad to see Bakura go – but to no avail. Yami remained firm (even if his right eye was doing that odd twitchy thing and his knuckles were white from gripping the throne's arm so hard), and Bakura remained at the party. Bored. Witless.

Wedding banquets were annoying. They were so dull – the newlyweds were usually either occupying the opposite end of the room in distaste for each other, or holding hands and making googly eyes. This couple…the long-haired, pretty-faced and pure goddess Shizuka was blushing madly while her new husband – a mortal…Hiroto, Bakura thought his name was - held her hands, professing undying love to her and her alone. Otogi, a caustic green-eyed deity Bakura had little patience for but occasionally had cause to agree with, was shooting Hiroto poisonous looks – apparently the mortal had snatched up a gem the deity had wanted?

The Goddess of Love, her legs crossed and blonde curls artfully tumbling about her face, was flirting rather shamelessly with a young pup of a god who most noticeably was not her somewhat rabbit-obsessed husband (and thank all the Heavens, that deity had decided to stay home instead of attending the party), Mai easily charming Jounouchi with smiles and light banter. If the boy could stop staring at his companion's chest long enough he'd probably figure out the female wanted a something more from him than idle conversation and –

Rishid sat in the corner by himself, dripping water on the floor. The liquid the god commanded was ever-present around him, making it a little difficult to converse with him and remain dry at the same time. The Goddess of Wisdom, seated carefully just out of the way of the rapidly-spreading puddle, was closest to him, Ishizu looking as demure and unapproachable as Rishid. If the man were the wild seas she was the cliff face it pounded upon – and the goddess needed all her wit and patience to deal with the exuberant younger brother of hers, Malik. It was a relief the blond was still barred from the party; Bakura didn't think he could've stood the sun god's complaints of boredom (after the first half hour) on top of his own ennui.

By Yami, the King, sat the Queen, the brunette Anzu with her hair styled into a thousand tiny braids all wound up around her crown and interlaced with flowers. It was quite a stunning affair, and coupled with the goddess' bright blue eyes it was quite easy to see why she had been chosen by the one with all authority in the Heavens. Little Yugi of Yami Yugi was head over heels in love with his wife, and wasn't that just wonderful because they made such a perfect couple. The King was Yami Yugi and my, wasn't that amusing, because it wasn't only Bakura Ryou with two minds chattering away to one another inside one head. (It was perhaps why the King favoured Bakura Ryou, it was whispered, because the monarch's feelings towards the albino slid somewhere between sympathy and empathy, tinged with the liking for a pretty face and rapier wit and the ultimate dislike of a constant pest. A curious mix.) Yugi loved his wife, had been the one to choose her, but Yami – ah, Yami –

Kaiba Seto sat at an open window by himself, gazing out across the clouds that surrounded the Heavens, not looking at anyone. The blue of the skies perfectly framed his profile and he probably knew that; the god sat in easy view of the throne, and the reigning monarch that sat upon it. Bakura too could see the brunet, could see also how the deity never looked towards the one who bore the crown. Mazaki – Anzu – grew so jealous so easily, fiercely possessive when either side of her husband looked at other lookers. It irritated Yami and so Yami deliberately wandered astray, and yet Mazaki could never seem to prove –

Bored, Bakura surrendered the body to Ryou, and his lighter self slipped out to glance around the room with interested eyes, face and frame visibly softening from Bakura's spikes. Dark-haired Mokuba, a young smiling child-god who usually kept to the shadows trailing after others, appeared to speak with the gentler messenger for a little while before slipping away again. Ryou contented himself with humming a quiet tune to himself, still shyly keeping to himself on his seat beside the dais.

And then someone tossed the apple in.

No-one really noticed the door to the throne room opening, but when a golden ball rolled in across the floor, tumbling and glittering, it caught the eye of most, silencing the conversation, and others turned around to look at what had caused the hush.

Otogi, the nearest, scooped up the glowing ball and held it out for the others to see – it was an apple, golden and smooth, fitting perfectly into the palm of the green-eyed god's hand. It was lovely and strange – even the gods could be interested in things they had not seen before, and a golden apple certainly ranked high on that list.

"It says," Otogi proclaimed, reading off some text that seemed to have been inscribed on the skin of the fruit, "'for the fairest'."

Ears perked up all over the room at that, mouths opening as many deities immediately thought to speak, but their King cut them off, waving Otogi over. "Bring it here." The dark god brought it as bid. "Now give it to Ryou." Clearly, the King could not be bothered to come down off of his throne, and so got his messenger to safeguard the mysterious apple instead. Ryou leapt to his feet to take the apple the other so reluctantly imparted – Otogi, like the rest of the gods around, seemed fascinated by the golden fruit.

"Majesty, why are you giving it to him?" A new voice spoke from the crowd – Mai. The Goddess of Love looked vexed as she addressed Yami, her hands on her hips. Of course, such a look only highlighted the prominent cleavage she had to display behind her somewhat tight-fitting clothes, but it wasn't as if many males present were complaining. "There are fairer by far present here." Ryou had the grace to only frown slightly at having his appearance so snubbed. "The apple is 'for the fairest', and I am obviously the fairest in these Halls – who has looks to rival mine? The apple should belong to me!"

"Vanity." Another cool voice interrupted before Yami could give a reply to Mai's assertion, Ishizu, Goddess of Wisdom stepping forwards. Her face and frame were calm, but there was a flicker of disgust sent in Mai's direction from those shrewd blue eyes that did not go completely unmissed. "Appearances are not everything, Majesty, as well you know." She looked to Yami. "And appearances are all my lady companion here has to offer. Such a crude form of fair, is it not? Wisdom and wit, cool intellect…these are the things that are truly beautiful. Logic, reasoning – a pretty face may be talked down into the mud by one with such a mind as mine. Give the apple to me, sire – my wisdom makes me the fairest in the Heavens."

This was…rapidly getting out of hand. Ryou looked somewhat lost as the Goddess of Love glared down the Goddess of Wisdom, Mai obviously not pleased at having her claim contested. Both deities were beautiful in their own right, and of course Ishizu had a valid point but –

"Wisdom can be overturned, as it often leads to arrogance." Anzu, Queen of the Heavens, cut in quickly before her husband could speak – Yami only gave an irritated sigh at the action, sliding back in his chair. "And good looks can fade, even when they are on the face of one almost immune to time's ravages."

Ryou gave the monarch's consort a wary look, holding the desired apple a little more closely to his person. "Majesty…?"

Anzu ignored the tentative address, leaning forward in her throne and breezing into her declaration. "Power is fairest of all things in all realms, authority rules. One who bears power and authority with grace and poise should be awarded the apple -"

"And that's you, is it?" Mai's voice was filled with scorn, the blonde's temper rising rapidly by the second. She turned on Ishizu, waving a hand to the Queen. "Why don't you accuse her of vanity?! She has nothing, nothing to make her fair in comparison to me -"

"How dare you slander me so?!" Anzu had leapt to her feet. "I am superior to you, little chit, in every way!"

"As if." Mai snorted. "You just want the apple."

"As do you," Ishizu rebuked, voice stern.

"And as do you." Anzu hissed at the black-haired deity.

"…My ladies," Ryou glanced at the three glaring goddesses somewhat nervously, the white wings on his shoes fluttering in apprehension, "there are three of you and but one apple. You cannot all have it."

"Of course they can;" Otogi snorted, dismissing the albino's comment; "let the fruit be cut into thirds and each claimant take her piece."

"No!" Anzu insisted, storming down from the dais while her husband buried his face in one hand and wondered just what exactly he'd done wrong to end up in this sort of situation. "The apple is 'for the fairest' – not for the fairest and her two would-be runners-up!"

"Exactly, which is why it should be given to me!" Mai turned on Ryou. "Hand it over!"

"Don't delude yourself." Ishizu snatched at the blonde's arm when the lavender-eyed goddess made as if to snatch the apple from the messenger's hands. "The fruit is clearly mine."

Anzu complained. "That is the biggest pile of-"

"Ladies!" Yami's voice cut through the fighting like the proverbial knife, the King's eyes flashing lightning and his face set fiercely. Silence fell in the face of His majesty's wrath, Ryou taking the opportunity to hastily backtrack away from the three irate goddesses after the fruit clutched so protectively in his hands. "Have none of you any shame? You all claim to be goddesses, immortal, fair, yet all I see now is a trio of squabbling children."

"…Then advise us how to settle this affair peacefully." Anzu raised her chin, meeting her spouse's glare head-on. "You are our King – you choose to whom the apple belongs." It was a good suggestion – but a flawed one, as married to the King Anzu could expect some leaning in her favour. Both Ishizu and Mai hissed under their breaths, seeing the problem to their own causes –

Yami didn't spare the suggestion a thought. "No."

"What?" Anzu looked annoyed at being so swiftly turned down. "Why not?"

"Because, dear wife of mine, I am married to you, and would be expected to be biased towards you." Her husband offered the explanation shortly. "I am not neutral enough to give fair judgement."

"Then let us put it to vote!" Ishizu suggested. "We will ask those present here, and whomsoever gains the most votes shall have the apple."

"No," again the King turned down the idea. "I refuse to have yet more squabbling in these Halls over a piece of fruit. In case you didn't notice," here Yami swept a hand out to encompass the room, the banquet, "this is a celebration, not a courtroom. This is meant to be a happy day; I will not have your childish argument spoiling it."

"Then we should ask a neutral party," Mai offered, "someone who does not know us – a mortal, perhaps. And the apple will be awarded according to that mortal's judgement." She was expecting another 'no'; most of the room were, just so the reply would follow a pattern. They were expecting a 'no', so when Yami actually smiled and said 'yes, exactly' Mai had already blurted out half of her protest at the supposed rejection before stopping mid-sentence, confused. "Wait – so you agree with me?"

The King nodded. "This once. Those contesting the title of fairest will go to earth and be subject to the judgement of a neutral mortal of my choosing -" nods all around from everyone, "and Ryou Bakura will escort you, and remain during the judgement to assure no foul play."

"What?" There was more than a flash of Bakura in Ryou's aghast expression, both halves to the messenger's persona utterly disgusted at the suggestion. "But I -"

"-Have been causing quite enough havoc in these Halls today, thank you very much." Yami coolly stared the other down. "You can either go, and get out of my hair, or I'm confining you to the Underworld for an unspecified amount of time to help my brother in his duties there."

"…Fine." Gritted teeth now, all Bakura. "But Ryou'll be the one on earth."

"I don't care which of you do the deed, as long as you're both gone."

Later, when the crowds had dispersed somewhat from around the throne, and Mai, Ishizu and Anzu had disappeared to make themselves most presentable for their trip down to earth, Bakura couldn't stop himself from muttering: "…I swear you only make me your messenger so you can be rid of me."

Yami smiled sweetly at him, the false expression not reaching his dark red eyes. "So you finally noticed?"

Bandit Keith was a loud, ignorant, arrogant and downright rude citizen of the United States of America. He did nothing for his country and he did even less in terms of first impressions, and Ryou found himself idly wondering just what it was the mortal had done to be selected by Heaven's King to be the 'neutral party'. He had to have done something. Dumping three bickering, prickly goddesses upon the man's head was the sort of exquisite punishment you reserved for those irritating individuals who had vexed you repeatedly in some way, that you longed to squash underfoot but really couldn't be bothered to stir yourself to because they just weren't worth the effort.

Ryou took great pleasure in appearing out of thin air in front of man, sending the 'bandit' sprawling onto the floor on his behind with a yelp like a kicked puppy.

…It wasn't only Bakura who had a mischievous side…

Ryou tossed the mortal the apple and instinctively Keith reached up to catch it before it caught him, the man staring down at the golden fruit he now held in some confusion. "What is this?"

Ryou smiled and waved his hand, and the three goddesses he'd been charged to escort appeared beside him. The jaw of the still-flummoxed Keith hit the floor. "I have a task for you."

Surprisingly for a modern man, Bandit Keith accepted the four deities were gods easily enough. He even accepted that the King of said gods had given him a judgement to make, though when queried as to 'why him' Ryou had only been able to shrug and claim it had been random choice. But when Anzu demanded the mortal make his choice immediately so they could all go home…

"I can't."

"What? Why not?!" Heaven's Queen looked irritated. "Isn't the answer obvious?"

"…Not really…"

Anzu hissed, but forced herself to calm. "Then how long will it take you to make a choice?" The goddesses – and Ryou – were forbidden from heaven until the decision had been made.

Keith shrugged. "I don't know." Anzu had stomped away, Ishizu had looked at the human impassively before following her, and Mai just trailed after the other two without offering a comment. The mortal turned to Ryou. "They always that cheerful?"

Ryou shrugged, having taken up a seat on a nearby couch. "You get used to it."

They'd been on earth a few days now. The immortals were bored, the women were bickering again and the Bakura half of Bakura Ryou had privately vowed that –superior status or no – if Anzu Mazaki complained about the state of Bandit Keith's toilet one more time –

The goddesses began to resort to bribery, seating Keith down on his couch and standing before him to offer their bargains. Ryou watched of to the side, almost pitying the mortal man.

"If you choose me," Anzu promised, "I will give you authority over whichever land you desire. Its people, its wealth…everything within it would be yours to control."

Keith looked vaguely interested, sliding his shades down so he could better look at the brunette goddess. "Could I have America?"

"Award the apple to me and it will be yours." The Queen of Heaven smiled, ever-graceful. "Is not my power fair?"

Ishizu snorted, stepping forwards and drawing attention to herself. "Your 'power' is crude, and renders your beauty common." She fixed her blue eyes on Keith, almost hypnotising the man. "My wisdom is more subtle, more alluring than that, the trace of perfume on the summer air. The apple is mine by right – can not your mind see that? Gift me with the fruit; I would guarantee you victory in all you undertake – any battle, any game. I would give to you the purest, fairest logic; there would be none in all the world that could best you. Think of the wealth, the status such intellect could amass for you!"

"He'd have that wealth and status anyway," Anzu snidely interrupted, "if he ruled America."

"What use is ruling a country," Ishizu rudely shot back in reply, "if you rule that country stupidly and turn it and yourself into the laughing stock of all the nations? Land does not win you respect – victories do."

"…And what use are land and victories," Mai asked quietly, moving into the line of view once more and fixing her gave very pointedly on Keith, "if you have no-one to share them with? Success is lonely, and the successful live in constant fear of those they love, those they bed in using them for their own gain. Choose me, mortal, and I can give you the heart, mind and body of any man you desire, any woman. I can give you the very soul of the most beautiful creatures on this earth, and they will adore you for time evermore. Is that not truly fair? Give the apple to me!"

Power, wisdom and beauty. Ouch. Ryou winced. That was a hard choice for anyone to make. One at the cost of the other two – for the two goddesses passed over would be vengeful, the white-haired messenger knew.

The goddesses, annoyed at having each of their claims mocked, started arguing again. Ryou sighed, and began examining the ends of his long hair for sake of something to do. Keith tried for all of five seconds to look fascinated with the divine feminine company before him before giving up, and looking at the docile, preoccupied Ryou. Day in, day out – the women's arguing was beginning to wear at his temper, and his nerves.

Still, it was another week before the inevitable happened:

"I made my choice." Bandit Keith immediately had the rapt attention of three immortals. Ryou swung his legs lazily from his newfound perch on the windowsill, just glad he'd be going home soon. Whoever got the apple was really of no consequence to him.

"Then hand the apple over," Mai commanded. "We all know who you're giving it to."

"Indeed." Anzu elbowed her in the side, trying to push the blonde out of the way. "Me."

"Don't delude yourself, woman." Mai snorted.

Ishizu chided the Goddess of Love. "And don't live in your delusions yourself."

Ryou privately felt like telling all three of them to shut up. Keith…looked the same actually. Even though he was supposed to give an apple to one of them. Interesting –

"Maybe you should give a kiss to the winner?" Mai ignored the rebuke, still deliberately being flirtatious, still trying to guarantee herself as the one to receive the prize even this late in the game. Shameless.

Keith's response: "That would be presumptuous of me." The Bakura within Ryou gave a mini-round of sarcastic applause that the mortal knew such a big word. "And…my decision. Well...I thought long and hard about it, and it was somewhat difficult as I've such three lovely ladies before me," who all preened atrociously at that comment, "but to be utterly frank," and here a delightful pause, "you all annoy the hell out of me. Ryou, catch."

Startled, Ryou found something golden and round flying towards him and only sheer instinct had him catch it before it hit his face. The apple…

Keith shrugged as three irate glares turned on him, and one confused one. "Out of the four who came down here he was the one who by far caused the least pain to my eardrums, and really, he always did look prettier because you lot were too busy shrieking. No-one loves a nag." The glares moved to include Ryou. Ryou stared at Keith, the coveted apple clutched to his chest as he stared in sheer incredulity at the mortal – the man was insane. Bakura started cackling somewhere deep, deepwithin Ryou's mind. Keith blew Heaven's Messenger a mocking kiss. "See you later?"

Ryou, with the wrath of three very powerful, very pissed-off goddesses upon him and coming closer by the second, did the wisest possible thing. He utilised those pretty winged shoes the King had gifted him with so long ago, and fled.

The goddesses chased.

The Hallways of the Heavens had really been quite quiet since Anzu, Mai, Ishizu and Bakura Ryou went down to earth, so it really didn't come as all that much of a surprise to one Seto Kaiba as the entrance doors to his rooms were flung open and a white blur streaked past him, diving into the well-favoured decorative pot. The hurricane caused by his passing left the room a mess and, as per routine, Kaiba went around cleaning it all up with a sigh before approaching the pot.

He lifted the lid, looking down at the silvery divine person huddled shivering in the bottom. He was almost surprised – it was Ryou cowering there for a change. "What did you do?" Something gold was tossed the god's way and it hit the brunet in the face – when Kaiba caught hold of the object his brow wrinkled, deeply confused. The apple…? But – "Ryou…?"

Ryou huddled further down into the pot. "I'm not here."

"But what-?"

"There are three very annoyed great ladies baying for my blood, Kaiba;" irritated, Ryou seized the lid the brunet still hid and clanged it down, concealing himself. The pot rung with his muffled continuation. "I'm not here."

"Ryou-!"

The lid poked up, brown eyes looking rather furtively over the rim, a distinctly vexed glint in them. "The goddesses were annoying; the mortal gave the apple to me. The goddesses got annoyed. Anything else you need to know?"

"…No."

"Good." The lid slammed down again. Five minutes went by. Ryou poked his head up again, and shot the still-perplexed Kaiba a smile. "Bakura says the apple's for you." And he was gone.

Kaiba stared. At the pot for quite a while, and then at the golden apple 'for the fairest' in his hand. Then, just for the hell of it, he ate it.

Bakura would be the one getting yelled at again anyway, and Kaiba always kept his pot handy.