How Many Idiots Does It Takes

"Okay, this shouldn't be too hard to get together," a clap—filled with enthusiasm—broke the silence of the house upon their entrance. A pair of mismatched hands came together, with excitement and still unbroken encouragement for finally getting down to business with this. After the two of them had argued over it for weeks, they finally settled on a decision and brought the box into the small apartment for construction. It was Allen's bright idea to pick the most complicated thing he could find in a box. Personally, Kanda wanted the simple black desk with the flat top. What more did a desk need than four legs and a board across them?

Apparently a lot more, if he was to guess by looking at the picture on the front of the box. He really didn't think they had enough accessories between them to fill half of the extra storage places this thing had; but Allen seemed so set on it and it wasn't like it was coming out of Kanda's wallet. That was Allen's business this time. He was just there to make sure Allen didn't end up buying something they wouldn't be able to fit in the apartment.

The only benefit of him even going for this ridiculous trip was that he came back sucking down iced coffee and that made it significantly better. "This thing looks extremely complicated, Beansprout," he muttered over the straw—sipping the coffee and praying that he could somehow time travel into the future to a time when this thing was already finished and he didn't have to deal with the annoyances he knew was coming.

They had a hard enough time putting the dining room table together, and that was just legs and a flat top that was pulled apart from travel—a hand-me-down that wouldn't fit in the door without a little dismantling. Then again, they also had no electricity in the apartment when they decided to do it and settled doing it by candle light. So with many prayers, it should be easier.

…Yet he suspected not.

"Well, it's a little lengthy in the booklet…but I think it's doable. I mean, we're two capable people, right?"

"It took forty-five minutes to switch the refrigerator door to open from the left side."

"Okay, that's not a good example. We weren't exactly holding a manual for that," Allen defended, but really…there was some reason behind Kanda's concern, if they hadn't even been able to do that without the fight that ensued.

"It's not like it's a complicated thing, for Christ's sake. Do you need a manual for taking a piss while standing?"

"Do you need a manual for being an asshat every second of the day?"

"No, that's natural."

"Why don't you pick something useful to be good at, like helping me put this together," Allen's glare was weak at best, but he tried for the sake of his own stubbornness. He wanted this desk to be successfully put together and he was going to have it, even if he needed to threaten Kanda.

"Let me get a different drink, and then I can watch you fail putting this thing together," Kanda, in typical Kanda fashion, rolled his eyes and padded across the floor in just his socks—having deposited his shoes by the door.

This brought the frown to Allen's face once more. "Hey, I said you were going to help me."

"I never volunteered, you volunteered me. I just wanted a plyboard with legs to shove a computer on. I don't care about this complicated cubby-hole you call a desk," the answer came from the kitchen, where Kanda stored his iced coffee for later and excavated a soda from the back of the bottom shelf. He wasn't going to waste his good drink on watching Allen flounder when he should have just accepted the install charge so they could have it put together by people who make a living doing it.

"Come on, Kanda, they wanted like fifty bucks just to put some wood blocks together. We can do that. We're smart enough for a desk. It even comes with instructions!"

Peeking his head out of the kitchen area, Kanda gave the younger man a dead stare. "Have you ever tried reading one of those? You'll have better luck deciphering Greek than understanding the way they lay out those booklets. Especially given that I didn't see any labels on them."

Silver eyes searched through the booklet as he pulled one of the boards from the box itself. "There are labels on the boards…"

"Let me guess, the book just shows pictures?"

"…Maybe?"

"This is going to be a nightmare, I can tell it already," a usual groan signaled his return to the living room, where Allen had finally broke open the rest of the box to lay out the pieces and try to make sense of the project at hand. There certainly were a large number of pieces…many of which looked extremely similar to each other. They were marked with stickers that had alphabet letters and then numbers when the pieces outnumbered the alphabet. The fact that there were so many pieces made Kanda more than apprehensive. There was just no way this was going to proceed smoothly.

"Try to be more positive, Kanda. This isn't rocket science, right? I mean, someone else out there has put it together. Probably people dumber than us!"

"Those people probably got smart and called someone to do it for them. This is an afternoon wasted," he grumbled, setting his drink on the low table—just next to the lamp—before he took a seat on the floor across from his insane partner. He thought insane, because they were about handy enough to qualify for having feet for hands.

It wasn't so much that they were incapable of doing practical things—handy things—it was a matter of doing delicate and very time consuming work with complicated instructions that went with it. It was also a matter of agreeing and working in unison long enough not to toss whatever it was across the room in sheer irritation. The fridge door, for example, had almost been a relationship breaking trial, because some people aren't as ambidextrous with hand tools and their idea of flipping the door was a thoughtless process of actually turning it upside down instead of taking the hinge off and placing it on the other side. Really, that was just a fault of temporary stupidity there and neither of them would ever speak of the particulars of that scene—because it was embarrassing and a messy experience when everything fell off the door.

It was also a primary reason why Kanda was looking at the project like it could give him syphilis. He didn't want any exposure to it and he certainly didn't want Allen to share it with him.

"Well, let's just try before we give up? I mean, I never suspected you to be the type to just stick your tail between your legs and run from any sort of challenge."

"This isn't a challenge; this is us wasting energy and time on a project that's practically set in the manual to make us mad. Look at this thing," he motioned to the opened box on the floor of their living room. Picking up a random piece, he turned it over in his hands a few times. "What the fuck is this piece even? It's got like eight predrilled holes and I'm guessing there are about six hundred screws and fasteners that come with this thing."

"It's all set aside so that we can know what parts go where. You're overcomplicating this thing. Just because the pieces seem the same at first glance, doesn't mean they are. They're all different. Or are you blind as well as lazy?"

Kanda nearly turned the piece sideways to brick him in the head with it—instead, he set the piece down and leaned back on his arms. "And worst of all, you pick this type of desk."

"What's wrong with this type of desk? I thought it was nice."

"It's a cluttered storage closet in the corner. We can't even fuck on it if we manage to put it together right."

With that, Allen turned his face back into the manual and tried not to think too hard about that. The temporary regret of not picking a simple desk flashed through his mind before he finally shook his head and looked back up. "…L…Let's just get started."

"Lead the way, Princess. This Chariot is all yours."

The weak glare Allen sent was interrupted by the booklet he flipped open and the single digit that remained up to signify his disgruntlement. "If you're done being a moron, let's gather the tools we need. It shows we need a couple screw drivers and a hammer…I think that looks like a pencil."

"That's a flathead and a Phillips, Beansprout. Let me go get the tool box, while you remember how picture books work."

"Why don't you go get a better personality while you're at it," he grumbled, watching Kanda get back up again to go dig the box out of the trunk at the far wall. The last time they'd dug that out, they'd put it back with their heads hung in shame. Hopefully, that would not happen this time. He wanted to think they were better than that.

"I will light the whole fucking thing on fire if you wanna start with me, Beansprout. Or I can just sit back and watch you screw it up solo," he threatened, though it was done in a rather lazy sense. He didn't feel like exerting the energy to sound intimidating. After he managed to excavate the box from the trunk, he kicked it shut and strolled back over to Allen so he could drop the box next to the boy's foot and take up his spot again.

"Alright…so, it's telling us to start on the bottom of it. The base piece. It shows three pieces making up the bottom. I'm going to take a guess and say that would be the ones labeled A and the two side pieces B."

"That's the top of it, I think," Kanda pointed through the back of the booklet, where he could see the diagram through the first page because of the light.

"Are you sure?"

"Those are the fuckin legs at the top right? They want us to build this thing then flip it over? What a marvelous idea. So if we don't break it building it, we can break it turning it upside down."

"Kanda, shut your flap. They wrote it with the idea of it being built effectively. Obviously, someone can put this together. Just, take those pieces and let's put the top together. The booklet says to use these twist screws and the long piece between the parts." Setting the booklet aside, he snapped open the tool box to get out the tool shown and he and Kanda managed to get the boards lined up on the floor.

"We need the fasteners," Kanda reminded him and Allen set about laying out the pieces that came packed in the box. After he finally laid them out, he realized that….holy hell, there were a lot of pieces. But no matter, he was not about to let it crush his confidence. This desk was meant to be conquered. And conquer they would.

"Here, that's for the far one. The screw goes over with the long piece with it in the middle."

"It's not rocket science yet. I can turn a screw."

Allen grumbled, nearly flicking the next piece at Kanda's face. "You can't be pleasant, however, which is much simpler than turning a screw."

"That's not my problem. You're the one who thought this was a good idea. You're also the one who suggested we live together." The tone of his voice turned from disgruntled to idle, as if he was simply reminding him with no intent to really antagonize at that particular point. It was true that Allen suggested it. It was also true that Allen knew what he was getting himself into by living with Kanda. "There, step one completed. Fasten your side and let's get a move on. I don't want to waste my whole year on this."

The screwdriver was presented and Allen took with a bit of a snipe. It didn't seem so hard at all once he finally got down to screwing the piece in. If anything, that seemed pretty easy. Easier than he remembered the table legs being. Of course, that was just the first piece and this booklet had like seventy pages to go. It was going to be a while.

"Next part shows two sides being constructed. So…these four boards and this flat piece? Wait, these pieces aren't labeled."

"They're probably considered part of the C unit. We know what they are, so just pass the screws and let's get to it. I hope this isn't how you take your Final Exams."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, I don't want to have to deal with you after you fail college because you can't handle A, B, C choices."

"If you thought you were funny, then you need to get your head checked," Allen threw a bag of screws at Kanda and slid the identical pieces toward him so they could construct it in unison. From what he could tell, the pieces looked like they'd mirror, so if one of them at least got it right, they couldn't mess this up.

His eyes traveled over to Kanda, who was laying the pieces up to screw in and he noted that Kanda decided to mimic him in looking across to the other as he also put the pieces up. It was dumb, but it amused him, because they were silently copying each other as a way to error proof this particular part. It seemed to be working out this way okay and they actually managed to connect the pieces—with some tool swapping here and there—without any issues.

"See? This is easy. We've already constructed the bottom."

"Top."

"Okay fine, top, whatever—we put it together and that took no time at all. Now, what's next…Okay…Well, here's the D piece. It's supposed to connect to the A piece horizontally. I guess it's there to stabilize it? We just need to use the connector piece to plug it in, you got that?"

"Yes, Beansprout, I was already sticking it in before you had to explain it like this is preschool. Hand me the damned flat head, will you? I need to get at this at a fucktarded angle, because whoever built this thing is a sadist."

Allen absently handed him the tool and read ahead in the booklet. They were…only fourteen steps in out of approximately seventy something…Christ. That was a lot of potential complications and a lot of potential Kanda rage. "You sure you got that Kanda?"

"Will you give me long enough to get the damn board in before you start pelting me with questions? The screw's hard to get to like this."

"That would be because the board is upside down."

"The fuck it is, you're looking at it from the other side. This is the side that faces away from the wall. If I turn it around the board won't fit."

"Then what's the problem? I know I'm usually the one putting D in A, but this isn't rocket science, right?"

Kanda's eyes shot up and his temper flared just a bit at the comment. Without any remorse—and with a swiftness that should be illegal in several countries—the irritable man caned the board down over Allen's head. Just after the unpleasant crack, a scathing comment followed; "you can suck my dick, Beansprout."

"…Ow! Damn it, Kanda…" Allen groaned, curling over and holding his bruising skull. "You didn't have to hit me!"

"You didn't have to be a stupid fuck, but you do it anyway." More grumbling followed while Kanda managed the piece anyway. It took more effort and his flexibility than he really wanted to exert and he could feel himself getting mad already—just like he'd predicted and one of the primary reasons he really didn't feel like being a part of this project. His temper was quick and he had no patience for things that gave him any degree of problem that he couldn't solve with violence. It was why he worked as a martial arts trainer for movie stuntmen. There was no patience for anything else. Movies wanted violence and he was there to teach them how to be swift, violent, and not self injuring about it.

Patience was the least of his practiced skills.

Blowing his light hair out of his face, Allen just dropped his eyes back into the manual and tried to blink out the pain from being clubbed into a concussion. "I'm starting to think the only reason I like you is because you're attractive until you open your mouth."

"Just get to the next part before I get bored and leave you for something more entertaining. Like a nap, for example."

"Why are the good looking ones such pricks," Allen grumbled and put the booklet down so he could stand and get the large piece that laid over their constructed top piece. "This one goes on here. We twist these in with an allen wrench…And before you even start, don't even make the bad joke."

All Kanda could do was smirk as he lifted the allen wrench with the pieces. "But, Beansprout, you finally get to be useful." The sound that came from him nearly made Allen kick him, because he was so smug about it. Even in his dumb damn joke he could be so…attractive with it too. What a horrible person, Allen thought.

"Moving on," he snapped and folded the booklet over again—glancing at it while arranging the pieces for the sides and one piece for the backing (at least he assumed that's what it was for).

It was actually progressing swimmingly, he thought and the desk looked like it was coming together fine. Naturally, he knew better than to think that would last—but he was trying to keep the positive tone. For the first half of it, each board managed to get in place and screwed with little fight and the second tier—silently constructed between them—already managed to see existence in this thing called a desk.

They both stood with the next boards, looking over it and Kanda's mouth opened with words Allen really wasn't sure he ever wanted to hear. "I think we fucked it up."

"Those are fighting words, Kanda."

"No, I'm serious. I think we fucked it up. That board looks wrong. And what the fuck do you mean those are fighting words? I'll club your scrawny ass again. Will you just look at it? That board looks longer than it's supposed to be. I think that was supposed to be the other board."

"Well, if you didn't peel the labels off, then we'd know!"

"It's not even marked in the goddamned guide book. What the fuck do the labels matter? I didn't peel them off either, they kept sticking to me. It wasn't a choice."

"What are we going to do then? We kinda twist screwed these things in, we could break it if we try to take it out. And are you sure it's the shorter board that's supposed to be there?"

"It would explain why the holes don't line up. You're the one taking Calculus, aren't you the one who's supposed to know this shit? Even I can see it's not matching up here. Augh, I'll see if I can't pull the pieces out—."

"No…No, Kanda," Allen interrupted more quickly than he really should have given the fact that Kanda could breath fire on him for the implication. But he really just…really didn't want Kanda trying to undo anything that could be a delicate operation. Kanda was about as careful with things that he didn't have a stake in as shark flopping around on a glass coffee table. With significantly less water…and less shark…come to think of it, that wasn't that great of a metaphor, but Allen was a bit busier trying not to lose his three hundred dollar desk to Kanda's rage. Metaphors could come when he was writing the "forgive me" card to the pissed-off man later. "I'll pull the board back out, then you can put the new one on. That way we don't have to worry about you stripping out the wood or bludgeoning me to death with the board."

"I wouldn't bludgeon you to death. I would prefer to make your death look like an accident."

"Explain to me again why I care about you?"

"I've been trying to get you to explain that to me for a lot longer and I still have no answer. So you're going to have to think about that one on your own and when you have the explanation, you let me know. We'll write it on paper and tape it to the wall of shame."

"We don't have a wall of shame."

"It's called the refrigerator door."

Allen's expression actually shifted into one of remorse when he realized that mean shame in both a figurative and literal sense now. "You are a horrible person."

"At least you're not entirely blind yet," he folded his arms, waiting for Allen to get a move on. Forty-five minutes of elapsed time and he was still not seeing a desk. Well, he was seeing part of a desk, but this desk wasn't good enough as a part. If it wasn't built by the end of the day, he was done with it. As it stood, it was already two in the afternoon and he suspected that he was going to be watching the clock hands move from the same place.

With the flat head, Allen kneeled in front of the half built desk and angled his arm to try and get the tool into the piece. It was a pain because getting these things out would certainly be more complicated than getting them it. The way Kanda tightened the pieces just made it more daunting and he had to struggle like hell at an awkward place—with his hand over the top above the screw—just to wiggle it out.

The second screw was being just a little less compliant and he leaned in more—nearly losing his balance and scaring himself stupid from the thought that he could break the whole thing if he dropped over it. So he steadied himself and tried again—nearly stripping the screw top from the lack of upward pressure.

Naturally, he added more pressure.

…Maybe too much.

He slipped forward a bit and caught himself on the top board, trying his best not to lean any significant weight over it now that it wasn't fastened on both sides. It was then that he heard Kanda and felt the man's arms lifting him away from the desk.

"What the fuck are you doing…Beansprout you just…my fucking Christ, stay put and let me get the first aid kit." His voice quickly trailed out while he moved into their bedroom and Allen had no idea exactly why he'd need the first aid kit. He hadn't broken himself on the fall and he doubted the desk needed a Band-Aid. "Don't move your arm either!"

Arm?

He glanced down at the arm in question and noted the splotches of red painting his white skin, trailing up to a nice gash in his forearm—apparently from the tool he'd accidentally lodged into his skin. "Oh…"

"Yes, oh. You should have just let me do it, you dicks for brains. Or better yet," dark eyes reflected the annoyance that came with having to play nurse, "you should have just hired someone to put it together for us."

"No! It's fine, just wrap up my arm, it's just a scratch, and let's finish this thing. It was just one piece. Just one. We can fix it no problem and get back to the project. We were doing fine. Besides, I'm not going to give up just because you're being a girl about this."

A pair of fists dropped what they were holding and curled around Allen's collar, shaking him like a doll a few times before the owner of the hands got down in Allen's face with a threatening snarl. "A girl could have done this without an issue. They tackle shit we're too stupid as males to deal with. This was probably invented by a woman. Probably invented to make us look like dumb fuckers who can't handle a simple screw in process. I mean look at that construction manual, asshat! My dick will never be big enough to compete with the concept of that manual alone! Just call someone!"

"No! Just let's keep going. We can fix this. Sure, this looks daunting; but Kanda, I really really assure you that you are a big enough dick to handle this."

Kanda just shook him again before releasing him and letting him fall back to the bare floor unceremoniously. "I will set this thing on fire when we're done with it and I will bask in your frustrated tears. And then hate-fuck the hell out of you."

"Can we skip the desk burning and proceed with the rest of that?" Allen croaked from the floor—feeling like a domestic abuse victim for a moment. "Hey wait….there's not blood on the desk is there?"

"…You're more concerned about the desk."

"I paid a lot of money for this desk!"

"Yes, and this is why you need to get someone who knows what the fuck they're doing to put it together!"

"Are you that obsessed with someone else doing it? What happened to your pride, Kanda? You'd never let an inanimate object hold you back!"

Kanda loomed over him again; face lighting with a dark and slightly fearful aura. His cold gaze bore down on Allen's and he folded his arms—standing over him with a foot on each side of his body. "This isn't about that. What the fuck is wrong with your head. You're not this fuckin stubborn. Not usually."

Allen laid back on the floor, staring up at the slightly intimidating person trapping him. He was eager for them to do this themselves and his reason, when he thought about it, was lame. "There's nothing wro—"

"Don't you feed me more horseshit. We've been tapping and screwing boards together for more than an hour and there's no logical reason. If you couldn't afford the install fee, then you should have just said something from the beginning. Fuck, I would have covered it just so I didn't have to watch you screw drive your arm."

"Look…I just wanted…" Allen turned his head, feeling stupid again. Kanda always made everything seem like a chore and all he wanted was for it to be something they managed to accomplish together. "I just wanted this to be something we put together. All our other furniture is hand-me-downs and this is the first new thing in our apartment. I wanted it to be nice and I wanted for it to be something we put together ourselves."

"…That's why you wanted to do all this? Why you dragged me out to go get this desk? Because you wanted us to bond over a new piece of the apartment's furniture?"

"When you say it like that…it makes me feel really stupid for it, you know," Allen turned his head to the opposite side, sheepishly, and tried not to feel like the dumbest thing on the planet. "I just wanted something that we could look back on down the road and say: 'yeah, we put that together in our first apartment.' It sounds stupid and it's not really impacting and shoot, who knows if you'll put up with me that long for us to even move into another place together but—." Silver eyes blinked up at the stone face man who stretched to put his hand over Allen's mouth.

"For thinking this much about a desk, you sure are a thoughtless moron." With a long exhale, he looked around their apartment. It wasn't full by any means, but it was adequate. It was what they needed and there didn't need to be silly sentiments attached to furniture. "It's not about the damned furniture anymore, is it? Why are you hoarding memories? You bought the desk on your own. Despite that we'd agreed to split the cost. You are in ownership of the desk. Is this because you're afraid that if we split you won't have anything with strong attachments to it? So this way you're guaranteed something? You're stupid. A giant fucking numbnut….and quit licking my hand, you cretin!" He withdrew his hand and swiped it up the side of Allen's head, as he was now kneeling over the boy.

"I never thought I'd get so many words in one breath out of you."

"Tch. If you weren't retarded…"

"Is it wrong of me to hold on so tightly? Really? I mean, we just moved in and you know what they say about people who move in and learn to hate each other…"

"You were practically living in my bedroom before so what's the problem? I know your living patterns. If I thought I'd want to decapitate you that easily I'd have told you to fuck off."

Allen shot him a brief look of dismay before he turned his head back down to the floor. "You threaten my life daily."

"It's how I show affection."

"That is not how affection works, Kanda…"

"And that," Kanda paused before drawing his arm toward the mess of a desk they'd been attempting, "is not how you put a desk together."

"…touché."

"Now, can we fuckin call someone to do it?"

"But…"

Kanda crawled a bit over him until he was face to face with Allen—who was suddenly having difficulty controlling the heat rising in his face. "If you call someone to come put this mother fucking desk together before night fall I will blow you right here in the living room the moment they leave."

Allen squirmed a bit under Kanda's shifting weight and he did everything to avoid looking squarely at him. He'd die if he looked at him because he knew what look he was being given and it was Kanda's infamous manipulation tactic of seducing the desired results out of him. Sadly, he could already tell he was going to lose because that promise went straight to the portion of his brain not responsible for emotional or reasonable thought. "…O…okay. I'll call someone."

With that, Kanda stood back up and brushed the wrinkles out of his pants. "I'll get you the phone. We can let them fix the board. They're trained to do this." Sitting up on the kitchen table, Kanda grabbed Allen's cell phone and tossed it at his younger mate—who scrambled to catch it before it collided with something. Silver eyes glared weakly at the man who was folding his arms at him. Kanda crossed a leg over the other, perched like a hawk watching his prey. He was going to watch him call.

"No pressure or anything," Allen grumbled and finally sat himself up completely, cursing his itching arm from where he'd dug the metal tool into it. Leave it to him to manage that.

"The phone number's on the manual."

"Huh?...Oh…Hah, right," he shook his head and shuffled around for the manual and picked the number off the front of the box—dialing it into his phone and waiting for the response. From the corner of his eye, he noted movement and saw Kanda sliding off the table to retreat back into the kitchen. The sound of the refrigerator attested to him probably returning to his fancy snob drink. He was probably really pleased with himself for making Allen cave like that and even as Allen explained the situation on the phone, he realized that Kanda was probably right all along. Never would he openly speak that, because he would not give him that satisfaction, but it seemed true nonetheless.

Neither of them were patient enough for something like this—Kanda especially. Though, he had figured if he could get Kanda roped into it, it would be possible…that…seemed to not much be the case. It was okay though, in a strange way, Kanda had made him feel a little better about calling it quits. Perhaps he did want the memory attached to it, but in a way, he got his wish anyway—with the new scar he'd probably be able to connect to it. Given his really pale skin, any mark would probably last forever, so he could have that to tell a story some day.

Mumbling off his address and offering his transaction number, he accepted the appointment time for later that very afternoon. Fortunately. It would be nice to get the desk actually put together in his life time. "Thank you very much," he mumbled and closed his cell phone before he turned his head up to look at Kanda—defeat written all over his face.

"Was that so hard?"

"Yes."

"You're an idiot." The cold plastic of Kanda's cup was turned into Allen's neck as he finished those words and Allen yelped, scooting away and giving him threatening eyes—not that it affected Kanda in any sense. He merely shrugged it off and abandoned the project for a place on the couch. It was his day off and he really wanted to try to enjoy some of it.

"And you're still a prick." Even at the cold snipe in response, Allen was picking himself up off the floor and sauntering over in Kanda's direction. It was surprising there was as little protesting as there was, but Allen took it on account of feeling like he'd lost that particular day. He didn't sit on the couch next to Kanda, but rather, kneeled on the floor just in front of it, close enough to Kanda to lean over and half crawl into the man's lap—hugging his arms around his back. He expected to get punted across the planet for it, as he nuzzled the man's thigh—but amazingly enough all Kanda did was give him a stare and continued to suck down his drink.

Either he was half heartedly mocking him or he was being sympathetic. Somehow he didn't suspect the latter to be the case.

"…Hey wait a minute…"

"Hm?" Allen looked up at words spoken from Kanda and then abruptly found himself being yanked off him and half dragged across the room. It happened in such a swift motion that Allen's mind had to catch up to the fact that he was no longer laying against Kanda and now being dragged by the elbow into the kitchen. "Kanda! Kanda what are you—"

"Augh! You're still bleeding! I never wrapped your fuck-up. Fuck, it's all over my pants too. And probably the couch."

"…The desk!"

Kanda shook him a bit and then shoved his arm into the sink—turning the water on relentlessly before he disappeared from the kitchen to go retrieve the first aid kit that had been abandoned in favor of abusing his partner. This was what he got for taking things easy. Allen was always ruining it for him with antics like this. It was a wonder he kept the little dope around.

"You got blood on the carpet too, you grade A buffoon," he grunted as he returned with the box in hand—eyeballing the surroundings and silently thankful he couldn't see blood on his couch from where he was at.

"…Buffoon?" Allen stared at him.

"Yes, buffoon. The buffoon who stabbed himself with a screw driver because he hasn't learned the one step operation process for it," the sneer promptly followed up with Kanda's rough man-handling. Allen was turned around forcefully and Kanda slid a hand behind the younger man's thigh, gripping unapologetically and shoving him up to sit on the counter. He didn't even blink as he heard Allen's head crunch against the cabinet; instead, he focused on wrapping the idiot's idiotic wound.

"You know," Allen whined, using his free arm to cradle the back of his head remorsefully. "If you hadn't slammed my head, that might have been romantic."

"What are you talking about? I'm fixing your fuck-up, now hold still."

Allen grumbled and leaned back on the other arm while Kanda carefully wrapped the wound, sticking gauze on it like the cruel son of a bitch he was. No, really. Who ever invented gauze was cruel and Kanda was cruel by proxy, because that shit always stuck to his wounds and peeling it off was never a pleasant thing. He assumed that Kanda just liked to torture him in those small ways.

He was alright with that.

Because he had a desk.

It was then that the thought actually occurred to him that this fiasco had actually flicked all of Kanda's unpleasant switches. The man wasn't one to have his day uprooted and Allen had certainly done that anyway. Kanda didn't have very many full days to spend with him and he probably just ruined it with his dopey idea of sentimentality.

"You're not actually mad are you?" He blurted after a moment and stared weakly over to Kanda—his head turned to prevent the cabinet handle from giving him is very own skull piercing.

"If I was mad at you, I would have punted you across the apartment. However, I do expect you to replace these pants."

"You're such a girl."

Kanda's fingers curled around the boy's arm, digging into tender flesh and he held no remorse in watching Allen squirm under his grip. "These are expensive jeans you little shit for brains."

"Why spend so much on jeans, if you look much better without pants entirely?" Allen's cheek puffed out with a degree of defiance. If Kanda wasn't mad yet, he probably would be by the end of that particular conversation.

"Just because I'm not ready to throw you into the sun, doesn't mean you're getting anywhere right now."

"Hey. You said if I called—."

"That's different, moron. That's me using sex as a weapon, knowing you'll cave like a bitch. I also said that was when the motherfucker leaves and the goddamned desk is put together." The air of smugness could be seen from space and really, it was justified; because Kanda knew how to handle Allen. Allen was impulsive and passionate and Kanda was the cool and collected one between them when there was something to gain. He had the ability to string Allen around if the situation allowed for it.

Of course, those situations were specific and often times Allen would be able to crush his hard exterior until they lit each other on fire with heated words and sometimes even a bit of physical brutality. They'd fist fought on more than just a few occasions—never a winner, but a fight nonetheless. Maybe that was what kept them together. Never a dull moment and a constant fluctuation in the daily grind; nothing ever remained the same.

"Rude," Allen huffed and kicked his leg up and weakly dug his heel into the back of Kanda's thigh. There was only a momentary snarl before Kanda squeezed his arm in warning. The younger male had pulled his older companion closer to him—obviously on purpose—and Kanda wasn't falling for his dopey little affections while he was trying to fix his fuck up.

"I'll shove 'rude' right up your ass, if you don't knock it off." It was an idle threat that Kanda may or may not have considered actually following up on. It wasn't unlike him to actually abuse his companion. He was under the impression Allen actually found some pleasure in the shit that was dished out and Kanda made no attempt to reconcile his impulsive temper.

Allen licked his lips. "Oh come on, it's not like I'm ass grabbing." While Kanda had the superior sex bargaining skills—Allen had the better grasp of abusing temptation without actually committing any foul, especially when things like that came out of his mouth. The comment came with more of Allen's legs crawling up the side of Kanda's and his heel practically stroking his thigh.

"If you were, you'd be in a lot more pain than you are. I told you. The desk comes first, before I even look at you without wanting to spit in your eye." As expected, Kanda quickly noted the odd look Allen sent him. Perhaps spitting in his eye came off as a little…weak? Or maybe it was just a fuckin weird thing to say to begin with. He'd blame it on his partner and the fact that he wasn't as immune to Allen like he pretended to be.

"What if I like that sort of thing? Then how do you punish my bad behavior?"

Kanda leaned back, letting go of Allen's hastily wrapped arm and not caring that he'd pulled it especially tight when he went to snap the tape roll free. Not even a minute was needed to think about Allen's question, because fuck that. There were no answers to stupid questions and Kanda submitted to a swift open calm up the side of his head. "I starve you of attention, you horny little brat."

"Excuse me, you started it." Well, he did…Though, admittedly, Allen wasn't that easy to light up. It was curiosity to see if he could make Kanda actually think about it. Using sex as a weapon was incredibly cruel and Allen could play that game too.

"Actually, you forced my hand," Kanda retorted, poking a finger into Allen's forehead before he moved back—nearly pulling Allen off the counter with his retreat. With no other choice, Allen had to let go of his leg hold or he'd probably end up with his head smacked against another cabinet.

"Double rude."

Black hair whipped around, displaying Kanda's completely unaffected attitude toward Allen's disgruntlement. His mission had been a simple one: make Allen stop bleeding all over his clothes and floor. Once accomplished, there was really nothing left for him to linger in the kitchen for and he left Allen sitting on the counter with his foot out, looking like a moron. That wasn't too unusual for the beansprout, though. "When have I ever been polite?" The question was fairly legitimate, because the Asian man was truly curious to any instance where he might have mistakenly given the impression that Allen could ever be on the receiving end of polite manner out of him.

Allen wiggled, trying not to careen forward and end up with his face implanted into another the floor. His wonderful mate had already resumed his place on the couch, apparently not concerned anymore about his stained pants. If it was Allen, he would have at least tried to get the blood out while it was fresh—but Kanda was the sort to make sure it left blemishes just so Allen would have to pay him for his aggravation.

What a bastard.

And yet, he was Allen's bastard; so he submitted to weakly crawling back over to the living room where he intended to take up his previous position of laying in the man's lap. Passing his desk on the way left him with a wave of failure and sulking seemed appropriate. He could have put that desk together…He knew he could. Allen wasn't exactly incapable, but he also wasn't as handy as some. It really didn't help that his left hand was unusually…what was the word…disfigured maybe? Not like a malformation, but it was definitely not normal either and it showed in the way his control faltered and he lacked some coordination.

Kanda, on the other hand, was swift and great with his hands—but he lacked the desire to actually do it and Allen couldn't blame him. Complicated things getting put together by the two of them was probably not on Kanda's list of things to do on his day off. It would have made Allen feel bad—if he actually put Kanda's comfort first. But no. Hell no. Kanda was an asshat to him, so he was perfectly okay with being one right back at him.

His dispassion for Kanda's personal space fell in line with his nonexistent concern for Kanda's feelings—as demonstrated by his casual way of scuffling back over to Kanda and unceremoniously flopping his body across the couch with his head in Kanda's lap.

"Now look who's being rude."

"You started it."

"You were the one bleeding all over me and the carpet. Which you're going to clean," Kanda prodded mercilessly at Allen's face, but the younger male remained unaffected and simply mashed his face into Kanda's stomach with little nuzzle motions—effectively making Kanda squirm and try to shove him away. "Stop that, you little fag."

"I'm not a cigarette, Kanda," Allen grumbled and actually opened his mouth, making bites at his belly and wrapping his arms around him so he couldn't be rolled off. By now, Allen was somewhere between a cackle and a laugh.

"You're a shit-stain, now stop that before I blacken both of your eyes," he threatened and pushed Allen's face away from him, molding his cheek uncomfortably.

Allen whined at him, but finally conceded defeat and let go—content to just use Kanda as a pillow. Like that, the elder man offered no protest. Say what he wanted, Kanda had some kind of tolerance to the point of possible 'fondness' for Allen. Otherwise, Allen would have never gotten into his life—let alone his bed and now apartment.

Just moments from closing his eyes and taking a nap, Allen heard a knock at the door and he turned his head. That was quick, he thought and rolled away from Kanda—popping up with a bit of spring in his step. His partner was steadily ignoring the door, because it was Allen's business to take care of anyway. A little bit of excitement came to Allen on the promise of this desk's final form.

Or rather, what would come of the desk's completion. Man, Kanda had really ruined his innocent little mind.

Preparing a friendly smile, Allen opened the door and readied himself for formalities that weren't going to come once he realized what he was looking at. That…was not who he was expecting on the other side of the door. Mainly because he couldn't ever recall giving his address to anyone they knew just yet. They were waiting on settling in before they even considered inviting people over—let alone letting them know they'd move in together. And Allen was pretty sure this particular person was last on Kanda's list of people he wanted to know any time soon.

"Whoa? Beansprout? Wait, this is your apartment? Sweet digs, man. I knew you were moving, I didn't realize you'd already gotten yourself in the place."

"…L…Lavi? What are you…" Allen stuttered stupidly and helplessly shifted from one foot to the other. His mind was too wrapped around the flustering dash of red taking up his vision at his own front door, to even comment on Lavi's use of Kanda's nickname for him. From behind him, he could just feel Kanda moving. It was a weird thing, because Kanda was silent as could be—but his presence was like a glaring blip on Allen's mental Kanda Radar.

"I'm here to put a desk together, bro. You apparently called a while ago? They just sent me out because you're close and they wanted me 'out of the house', so to speak, so here I am." Lavi's smile was wide; taking over his face in a strange mirth that Allen always assumed was forced to some degree—yet was pulled off as legitimate at the same time. Lavi was as vibrant as always and perhaps he could see why he'd have a job like that. He was good with estranged tasks and being friendly in just about any situation.

"I…well… I don't know if we really…"

He really did try. There was no denying that he made the genuine attempt to hint for Lavi to just go away. It wasn't his fault that Lavi couldn't take hints and just waited to be let in, carrying on a conversation without realization that Kanda was quickly coming up behind Allen. There was a fear that came over Allen—that Kanda was about to wring Lavi's neck and toss him in the bushes, but he was largely surprised by the lack of violence in Kanda's movements behind him.

Kanda's chest pressed to his back and his black hair mingled with bleached locks. Allen's gaze turned to catch this sudden behavior and he just caught sight of Kanda's hand making quick work of the door—slamming it with enough pressure that he was afraid the handle would crack off the door from the impact. Any protest from Lavi outside was completely ignored and Kanda leaned each arm over Allen's shoulder. It was a strangely passive action that had Allen a bit scared—until Kanda spoke.

"Okay, what page of the manual were we on?"

It took a long moment before the words filtered into his brain and actually made sense with what was being suggested. The person who was there to actually fix their current desk related problem had been effectively banned from the premises by Kanda. So that left them with no one to put the damned thing together but them and that confused the younger man—because he was pretty certain Kanda had been really insistent on this being done by anyone else. "…What?"

"Get the fuckin manual. We're putting this motherfucker together ourselves." With that, Kanda let go and made certain the door was locked. He could call up the place they bought the desk from later and explain that they didn't need help after all. Not that kind of help anyway. "If that fuckin idiot can put this thing together, we can too. Find the page we're on and hand me shit when we need it. I'll do the work, you just…give me what I need and hold shit and maybe this won't take the rest of our goddamned lives."

Something in Allen was beaming a little, he admitted, when he did finally snap to attention. Kanda's reason wasn't quite what he wanted, but it was enough to make Allen happy.

"And hey, will you get your fucked up looking cat out of the way," Kanda grumbled, punting an oddly shaped yellow …thing. Kanda wasn't sure if it was a cat, a gerbil or a really ugly dog—but he needed the fuckin thing out of the way if he was going to pull the desk apart so they could redo that step.

"Leave Tim alone, Kanda." Shaking his head, he picked through the manual until he came across the right page to repeat the last step. He plucked Tim off the desk and let him scramble up to nest in his hair. "Are you sure you don't wanna just let Lavi—." He reeled back at the sudden movement and screwdriver that appeared very close to his jugular vein.

"I'm not letting him step foot in our apartment. And if he does, I'm going to send a letter to Komui congratulating him on being a new uncle because of that idiot."

"…You could at least find more merciful ways to kill him."

"Mercy is for fools," Kanda turned back on the mess of a desk and set about popping the panel back off to place back on the right way so they could move on with more pieces. "Hold here and don't you move or I'll make you regret it." Compliance was instant and Kanda was as swift as he could be, grumbling about his jeans being covered in dust now from the pieces that had been shoved in a box for god knows how long—because no one else is crazy enough to spend that much money on a fuckin table for a computer. He also considered he should have worn a less restrictive pair to do this, but fuck it, he was already in process.

"There's two pieces that go on each side. Do you want me to do one—."

"No. You just hand me shit and I'll tell you where to hold. I can't trust you with a screw driver and I need you standing back to tell me if it looks like the picture." Two pieces were joined just after and Allen nodded from a few steps back—handing him the connecting pieces and staying out of Kanda's way.

His partner was as bossy as ever, but it was an efficient way to go about it and they were both working on it in equal parts really. One being the person actually building, the other instructing and making sure it was right. With the exception of a snag or two, it seemed to work. Though Allen was deeply concerned when one piece just wouldn't go in and Kanda kicked it across the apartment before cooling down enough to shove it into place with the force of his rage.

With an hour or two of ridiculous patience and effort, they finally were able to lay the beast down and try to turn it right side up to that it could actually be used and not just set there like a collection of boards man-handled together. Fortunately, the two of them were strong and had no problems turning their work the way it should be.

Allen flipped another page for the last steps of the desk. "Okay, we have to get the backboard on th—Holy shit! Kanda it's tipping!"

"What?" Two hands moved to keep the desk from teetering backward and it confused them both. Allen shuffled quickly through the manual to see where they had mistakenly constructed something. There was no reason it was leaning back. It was, after all, constructed strongly. The pieces were all wrenched in by a man with a serious mission and strength to make things tight just short of stripping it. "Beansprout, what the hell happened here? Why is this thing tipping!"

"I don't know! I'm looking back over it, we did everything right. It shouldn't be. I don't know how we can fix this now…" Allen's shoulders dropped a little and he felt like they'd ruined it anyway—even following instructions to a T. Now that they'd already put the whole thing together, there was really nothing they could do. Having someone else put it together would mean stripping a lot of parts and the boards weren't designed to come back apart so it was pretty much done.

"Hey, Beansprout, grab the other side, will you?"

Dropping the manual on the couch, he did as commanded—though less bouncy about it as he before. He mimicked Kanda's stance and understood the request as an initiative to move it. "What are we doing with it?"

"Move it up against that wall. It's leaning backwards. The stupid thing doesn't need the backboard that bad and if it's up against the wall, it's not gonna tip. Other than being unbalanced that way, it's sturdy. If we just cram it tight to the wall, it's fine right? You'll just have to accept that it's staying there forever."

Even as they moved the desk, Allen's heart thumped a little. Staying there forever. It then occurred to him that Kanda didn't even have passing thoughts about them splitting. "It's going to look stupid without the back board," he replied sheepishly, trying not to sound like he was ready to mush his face into Kanda's. Kanda hated that shit, but Allen was just ready to love his face forever for even dealing with any of this nonsense at all.

"Yeah, well, we already have a stupid looking apartment, with a red couch, blue curtains and a bed with a broken bedpost. And then there's you. So this place had no hope anyway. Besides, you spent a lot of money to appreciate this ugly ass desk for the rest of our lives."

Rest of our lives.

Augh. Stop, damn you.

They crammed it up against the wall as far as they could, letting the backboard rest against it. It was stable, from what either of them could tell. It was true, that once it was against the wall, it was okay. Allen even shook it—or tried to—to see if it was going to move. It didn't any more than a professionally built desk.

"We did it."

"Kinda."

"Okay, we kinda did it."

They stood next to each other, admiring their hard labor—and pain in Allen's case. Allen's stupid cat bounced briefly from Allen's head to Kanda's and back before the Asian man could attack it and throw it into the kitchen for being an annoyance. Even the stupid cat-thing seemed to see the beauty in them actually accomplishing this task that was probably simple to more capable people.

Either way, Allen felt much better seeing their disaster at least standing. The momentary disappointment drained a bit and left him feeling kinda calm about it. Pleased and accepting to what they'd managed in …like five hours. That really did seem like a long time now that he was thinking about it. Ah well, they did it anyway.

"Drop your pants."

And his train of thought died—dead beyond dead—and he just turned his head robotically toward the man standing next to him. Kanda hadn't even looked at him before he'd voiced the sudden command and it broke Allen's sense of…anything for a second. "Wait…you…"

"I said, if you called and the moment they left. Though it required having the desk completed. So, desk is completed and you did comply. So drop 'em."

Flustered was the nicest word for Allen's initial reaction—though that was quickly drowned by the different kind of heat that flooded Allen's face. Kanda…if nothing else…was a man of his word. Allen just assumed that Kanda would have disqualified it, but really, he had done just as asked. Part of it, also, was that he suspected Kanda was in the mindset now too and using the bargain to go through on it.

At least that was what the look in Kanda's eyes suggested, when he'd turned on Allen and licked his lips in that way that nearly had Allen rolling in lust across the floor.

"Door is locked and blinds are closed. This apartment is ours. We can do whatever we want, Beansprout. So don't you fuckin get shy on me now," Kanda gritted so smugly that Allen wanted to suffocate him and kiss him at the same time. The lithe hands that finally turned on Allen decided to make it easy and strip him free of his belt—since Allen was too dumbstruck for a simply operating device.

"…R…rude…" Allen whined weakly and just let him. It was suddenly a lot more worth it than he thought before and he himself flicked Tim off to go scurry into some crevice while they broke their living room in.

Because who really stopped after just that act?

Not them, that's who.

And he was glad for that, because while the desk fiasco was a bit of an annoyance and he ended up with a scar in the long term, he did get what he wanted out of it. Their desk settled in its place just like it should and it had been constructed by their own hands—giving him the memories he wanted, afterall. On top of that—even with Kanda's critical behavior—he got Kanda for the rest of the night and it was pretty awesome to have free reign of all corners of their apartment without Kanda's creepy adoptive father asking all the questions.

They just wouldn't tell anyone who visited their flat which surfaces to avoid like the plague. Because that would probably lead to them never having guests…

Well…except the one place they hadn't decided to ruin with their extra curricular activities.

Their damned desk.

The End

A/N: This beast of a one-shot about a simple desk build operation goes out to my fabulous pal Randomcuteotaku. She was the one who said "DOIT". And so I did. And 10k words later [and no one knowing how the fuck I could drag out a prompt like that for 22 pages] we have this.

I hope you enjoyed and feel free to give me your opinions about this trainwreck of a plot.