[✐fanfic] yugioh: getting it
Title: Getting It
Word Count: 745
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for the YGO Rare Pair request meme, prompt “Irateshipping or Ordershipping(Malik x Jounouchi, Malik x Possessed Jounouchi); "Fascination"”
Jounouchi doesn’t get it.
What’s Rishid see in a jerk like Malik, really, he wonders, watching the family from across the reception hall. Malik almost hadn’t shown up today, he’d heard: didn’t think he deserved to be in the “Battle City Annual”. Course, Jounouchi almost hadn’t shown up either - but that was just ‘cause he knew Kaiba was only doing this to make even more cash.
Malik notices Jounouchi watching and smirks to himself, eyes flicking over his sister’s shoulder to track his observer. So he’d come - Jounouchi Katsuya, whose spirit couldn’t be broken, who defied both the strength of the Items and his own physical weakness. The boy who should be dead. Like Malik himself.
Malik finds such strength - intriguing.
Halfway through taking a bite of his chicken leg - gotta hand at least this much to Kaiba, he always preps a good spread - Jounouchi feels eyes on him; the resulting shiver buzzes from the tips of his toes to the top of his head and, worse, kills his appetite. He puts his plate down; Anzu makes some sarcastic remark he doesn’t hear. He’s too busy glaring.
Amused, Malik offers a light smile, a small inclination of the head; it’s been a year but he still requires people to come to him. This puppet had cut its own strings, and Malik doesn’t collect dolls anymore - but just for old time’s sake, maybe....this is an anniversary, after all....
Jounouchi can’t stand being smirked at.
“Oi, you,” he drawls, almost lapsing into more colorful language before realizing Malik’s still surrounded by his siblings. Coward, thinks Jounouchi. He knows I won’t kick his ass with his brother watching. “You gotta problem or something?”
Malik shrugs, strides forward; he hears his sister step forward too but doesn’t give her time to interject. “Just wanted to say hello,” he offers with a smile, watching for Jounouchi to simmer on cue. And - - there. So predictable. What had gone ‘wrong’ before? “It’s been a while. You’re doing well.”
Maybe it’s the little tilt to his head, maybe it’s the way he shifts his weight and most likely it’s just that damn smirk but Jounouchi feels every bit as creeped out now as he had a year before. Actually, he realizes with another chill, this is worse. Back then he’d had a reason to hate this bastard.
“Yeah, better than well,” he announces a bit more loudly than necessary. “Won a coupla more tournaments this year, gonna aim for the pros! Ain’t nothing that can hold me down!” - and oh, isn’t the irony beautiful, thinks Malik, chuckling in spite of himself. (Somebody hisses his name behind him; for the last time, Sister, he’ll behave.)
“I don’t doubt it,” Malik admits with such disarming sincerity he surprises even himself - to say nothing of the recipient’s reaction. Expecting a barb, a compliment throws Jounouchi completely off his game; he double-takes, laughs nervously and stammers something big-headed like yeah, you better not, but what the hell, seriously. Go back to glaring, he almost wants to say. Glaring I understand.
Jounouchi’s got something, Malik thinks in admiration, despite the clownish simplicity, despite the bluster and the drawl. So he can’t turn a phrase. He doesn’t need to. That face, that spirit, says everything just fine.
“Come on,” Malik offers, striding to the minibar; apparently alcohol legality, like medical safety during dueling, stops once the host of an event has made his third or fourth billion yen. “I’ll buy you something. For old time’s sake - for your victory.”
Jounouchi should refuse, intends to refuse, is about to refuse - but Malik’s looking at him again and it’s gotten really hard to look away. Well, this ain’t awkward, he thinks to himself as he wanders over. This ain’t awkward at all...
“You....you can’t still get into people’s heads, right?” he asks as Malik orders; the question makes Malik chuckle again, pleased. He wants to learn from this boy - this young man, he corrects himself, in Battle City Jounouchi had proven his worth. But Malik isn’t without his own set of talents.
“Only if they want me to,” he replies, pushing Jounouchi his drink. “Go on, sit.”
The puppet does, cut strings and all.
Aw, damn, thinks Jounouchi as Malik settles next to him, still smirking away. I think I get it now.
Word Count: 745
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for the YGO Rare Pair request meme, prompt “Irateshipping or Ordershipping(Malik x Jounouchi, Malik x Possessed Jounouchi); "Fascination"”
Jounouchi doesn’t get it.
What’s Rishid see in a jerk like Malik, really, he wonders, watching the family from across the reception hall. Malik almost hadn’t shown up today, he’d heard: didn’t think he deserved to be in the “Battle City Annual”. Course, Jounouchi almost hadn’t shown up either - but that was just ‘cause he knew Kaiba was only doing this to make even more cash.
Malik notices Jounouchi watching and smirks to himself, eyes flicking over his sister’s shoulder to track his observer. So he’d come - Jounouchi Katsuya, whose spirit couldn’t be broken, who defied both the strength of the Items and his own physical weakness. The boy who should be dead. Like Malik himself.
Malik finds such strength - intriguing.
Halfway through taking a bite of his chicken leg - gotta hand at least this much to Kaiba, he always preps a good spread - Jounouchi feels eyes on him; the resulting shiver buzzes from the tips of his toes to the top of his head and, worse, kills his appetite. He puts his plate down; Anzu makes some sarcastic remark he doesn’t hear. He’s too busy glaring.
Amused, Malik offers a light smile, a small inclination of the head; it’s been a year but he still requires people to come to him. This puppet had cut its own strings, and Malik doesn’t collect dolls anymore - but just for old time’s sake, maybe....this is an anniversary, after all....
Jounouchi can’t stand being smirked at.
“Oi, you,” he drawls, almost lapsing into more colorful language before realizing Malik’s still surrounded by his siblings. Coward, thinks Jounouchi. He knows I won’t kick his ass with his brother watching. “You gotta problem or something?”
Malik shrugs, strides forward; he hears his sister step forward too but doesn’t give her time to interject. “Just wanted to say hello,” he offers with a smile, watching for Jounouchi to simmer on cue. And - - there. So predictable. What had gone ‘wrong’ before? “It’s been a while. You’re doing well.”
Maybe it’s the little tilt to his head, maybe it’s the way he shifts his weight and most likely it’s just that damn smirk but Jounouchi feels every bit as creeped out now as he had a year before. Actually, he realizes with another chill, this is worse. Back then he’d had a reason to hate this bastard.
“Yeah, better than well,” he announces a bit more loudly than necessary. “Won a coupla more tournaments this year, gonna aim for the pros! Ain’t nothing that can hold me down!” - and oh, isn’t the irony beautiful, thinks Malik, chuckling in spite of himself. (Somebody hisses his name behind him; for the last time, Sister, he’ll behave.)
“I don’t doubt it,” Malik admits with such disarming sincerity he surprises even himself - to say nothing of the recipient’s reaction. Expecting a barb, a compliment throws Jounouchi completely off his game; he double-takes, laughs nervously and stammers something big-headed like yeah, you better not, but what the hell, seriously. Go back to glaring, he almost wants to say. Glaring I understand.
Jounouchi’s got something, Malik thinks in admiration, despite the clownish simplicity, despite the bluster and the drawl. So he can’t turn a phrase. He doesn’t need to. That face, that spirit, says everything just fine.
“Come on,” Malik offers, striding to the minibar; apparently alcohol legality, like medical safety during dueling, stops once the host of an event has made his third or fourth billion yen. “I’ll buy you something. For old time’s sake - for your victory.”
Jounouchi should refuse, intends to refuse, is about to refuse - but Malik’s looking at him again and it’s gotten really hard to look away. Well, this ain’t awkward, he thinks to himself as he wanders over. This ain’t awkward at all...
“You....you can’t still get into people’s heads, right?” he asks as Malik orders; the question makes Malik chuckle again, pleased. He wants to learn from this boy - this young man, he corrects himself, in Battle City Jounouchi had proven his worth. But Malik isn’t without his own set of talents.
“Only if they want me to,” he replies, pushing Jounouchi his drink. “Go on, sit.”
The puppet does, cut strings and all.
Aw, damn, thinks Jounouchi as Malik settles next to him, still smirking away. I think I get it now.