Notes: established Malik x Ryuji, post-series.
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!
Social Skill (and Lack Thereof)
There were times when Malik wished he had his millennium rod back.
Countless times actually; the wish flickered up in his mind constantly, in the most trivial situations: when he was standing in a line – when he was waiting in general, really –, when he let something fall down, when he got stopped for exceeding the speed limit on his motorbike, when he saw something in a shop and couldn't afford it, ... The list went on and on, and the moments of longing for his lost power as well.
Admittedly, over time the desire began – not to fade, but to become less concrete: it wasn't that he actually wanted to steal the rod from the pharaoh and turn someone into his mindless slave with it; it would just be nice, and he did know that from experience, to be able to convince them to do what he wanted, right then: the outside world he'd been missing for so long just was a lot more strenuous and frustrating when you couldn't command its population. He was learning to cope, though.
Usually, at least. Sometimes, the desire came back with full force.
He'd moved to Domino City shortly after the ceremonial duel. He had wanted to get away from Egypt for a while, and thought it would be nice to be somewhere where he had friends of whom he didn't need to hide anything. Isis and Rishid had stayed back in Egypt, and the separation had been worse, at first, than he had expected, especially from Rishid: several times he had been close to calling him to tell him to come there, right now, and stay with him or take him back.
But he had resisted that temptation as well, and when it had turned out that he had no idea what to do now, Yuugi had arranged for a job for him.
Which, in turn, led to him standing behind a counter, doing his best not to glare at the girl who had entered the shop half an hour ago, and had picket up and put down the same item at least six times, and mentally willing her to buy something, leave, or try to steal. Neither happened.
The trouble was that it turned out that he didn't get along with people all that well.
"Don't you have any Duel Monster cards?" she asked, in the end.
"No, you see, the owner of the shop almost killed the concurrent from the shop across the street, but he was awfully nice about it, so now we let him keep a monopoly on Duel Monster cards," Malik didn't say, because it wasn't the kind of thing you said to costumers, especially if your boss had just slipped inside the room. "And come to think of it, something very similar happened to me," he didn't add. Sometimes he thought that if only he'd met Otogi a little earlier, it would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.
"Er... well, we..." he began instead, which wasn't much better.
Otogi had told him that since generosity toward concurrence only went so far, he should try to redirect people asking about the trading cards toward some of the other Duel Monster related merchandise. Malik hadn't quite figured out a way to say "no, but why don't you buy this completely different thing instead" in a way that wasn't completely stupid, let alone one that worked.
"What are you looking for? Just a starter deck or something more specific?" a voice came from the other side of the room.
The girl whirled round, and stared in surprise, and then in recognition when Otogi strolled closer. Malik stared down at his fingers, concentrating on not starting to play piano on the counter, when Otogi gave the girl a winning smile.
"I have a fairy-themed deck I want to boast up," she said, then looked Otogi over, and continued to talk: "I'm thinking about trying to enter the tournament next spring, but I haven't added new cards in a while..."
Otogi nodded.
"Yuugi Motou's grandfather has a game shop right across the street; they sell Duel Monster cards. I'd make sure Yuugi's there when you check, he'll be able to help you find what you want." He took the item the girl was still holding, a beginner's set of Dungeon Dice dice. "I take you're not interested in this then...?"
The girl actually blushed, to Malik's annoyance. Otogi smiled brightly at her. No-one, in Malik's opinion, should be allowed to look so self-confident while making people feel guilty on his behave.
"I – well..."
"You should give it a try. We're having a tournament soon as well – " He leant a bit closer to her; Malik looked around at the shelves. "– and since we're not as popular as Duel Monsters, it's still easier for beginners to keep up... Well, maybe not with this," he added, with a lopsided grin, looking down at the set. "Malik, can you get me some of the dice boxes in the storage room?"
Malik snapped his attention back to Otogi, who had already moved to opening the closed box, and spilling its content onto the counter.
"Sure," he muttered; torn between wanting to disappear as long as possible, and not wanting to leave the two of them alone, he returned with more beginner's sets after a normal amount of time. He found that the girl was standing just a little too close to his boyfriend, and smiling a bit more than when he'd left.
"Thanks," said Otogi, without as much as looking at him, and unceremoniously ripped three more packages open, before beginning to rummage through them; Malik had discovered that his hands seemed to gain some kind of extra grace whenever they handled dice. He suddenly wished they wouldn't. "Here," he added, "Three level four ones... that one's a good one... this..."
"Can you do this?" the girl asked, stifling a giggle.
"Just don't tell Industrial Illusions, and I should be fine," Otogi said, winking at her. Behind the counter, Malik rolled his eyes: he's helped Otogi fill the boxes when the latest shipment arrived only three days ago. "Here... That'll do."
"Thanks," the girl said, but she wasn't looking at the dice.
"I hope I'll see you at the tournament then...?" said Otogi, distractedly pushing the newly made package in Malik's direction, not taking his eyes off her.
Malik passed it over the bar-code and put it into a paper bag with automatic gestures.
"Maybe," she answered coyly, taking the bag without looking up.
"How," asked Otogi in a friendly tone of voice, walking up to him when the girl had vanished, "did you almost manage to take over the world?"
Malik winced. Otogi, he had found, went through life acting like he did own a mind-controlling device, and somehow managed to make other people share this delusion: he was remarkably good at not waiting in line, getting things he had dropped picked up for him by others, flirting with traffic wardens, and being given presents. It was impressive, and terribly frustrating.
"Magic," he said gloomily; magic, and then the ability to use the knowledge he had obtained to manipulate those whose mind he intruded; and security, and boundless rage to keep him going; but he'd contemplate all that at another time. "Do you have to flirt with all the costumers?"
"It's good for business," said Otogi, throwing two coins in the air, and turning away nonchalantly when they fell on the floor and rolled under a shelf, like this was what he had intended all along. Malik grabbed the rest of the money from him in case he planned to try again. "You're jealous."
Malik glared into the other boy's smiling face. He was certainly not jealous. It wasn't like he thought that the girls and occasional boys Otogi flirted with were important to him, unlike – oh.
"So what?" he snapped.
"So you really have no reason to be," said Otogi, snuck an arm around him and gave him a quick perk in the lips. "You're not the slightest bit good for business."
"Thanks," Malik said sarcastically. Otogi grinned.
"Can we close early?"
Malik looked down at chaos the last purchase had left on his counter, and wondered what his chances of getting Otogi to clean it up again were.
"And go out?" Otogi added; knowing him, the question mark was only here for form, and he had probably bought tickets for whatever he was going to be dragged to ages ago, but, well, he looked hopeful.
Malik looked back up. It had been a slow morning. It was probably going to be a slow afternoon, he decided.
"Yes," he said definitely.
