Title: Dark Horse
Pairing: Conyuu
Rating: PG for hints of kissing
Warnings: OOCness for certain, no major spoilers (unless you count the fact that the maids are betting on who'll bag Yuuri in the end,) possible, (quite likely,) crack
Betaed: Sadly, no.
Summary: When in doubt, go with the horse that craps right before the race.
AN: The summary came from my second-father's horse-betting advice, almost verbatim. It has yet to steer me wrong.
The comforting, confident weight of quite a few coins at his hip made Dorcas smile as he left the kitchen and the fuming serving staff behind him; not even their threats that he'd go down eventually, just you wait Dorcas, could kill his good mood.
They didn't stand a chance, really. Dorcas was currently undefeated for the past seven weeks, and it didn't look like anyone had a chance of dethroning him, so to speak.
While the maids were the ones to originally come up with the pool, it was the soldiers that took it the next step. You put your money on who you thought would come out ahead at the end of the week, and then you did everything in your power to ensure that particular man or woman garnered the most of the Maou's attention before sunrise Sunday morning.
Despite being a pushover and a terrible solider, Dorcas managed to find himself at His Majesty's side more often than not. He'd been around the block with the boy, and paid attention more than people thought. It also didn't hurt that only His Majesty took him seriously; honestly, it was as if nobles thought the help didn't have ears, the way they carried on indiscreetly.
"How do you do it week after week?" Yozak asked, appearing rather suddenly from behind one of the hedges that lined the courtyard.
Dorcas stumbled and started, surprised as ever by the man's abrupt appearance; he would have found himself with a mouth full of cobblestone and horse manure if Yozak hadn't caught him. Setting Dorcas back on his feet, Yozak brushed him off as if to say "no harm done" and repeated his question.
"Seriously," he huffed, eyeing the bald, little man, "every week you call who's going to take the lead, even when it's someone out of the blue like Flurin or Gwendal. How the hell do you do it?"
"I'm not much good at anything but watching," Dorcas laughed, rubbing the back of his head and blushing brilliant in his embarrassment, "so that's what I do."
"Still, putting your whole lot on the Commander was a risky move," insisted Yozak. "Just last week Conrad took that visiting nobleman's daughter sailing for the day and the kid had three proposal dinners to attend. I blew a month's pay on Wolfram when I got the skinny on those dinners; I figured he'd be so pissed when he got back from the peace talks he'd chain Yuuri to the bed and have his way with him for certain."
Dorcas just laughed weakly again and excused himself, insisting that he had things to attend to. Yozak let him go with the same threat as the maids, insisting that Dorcas would slip up eventually.
Really now, it wasn't his fault that he happened to take a special interest in the construction of His Majesty's ball park these past couple of weeks. It also wasn't his fault that Sir Weller and His Majesty liked to use the half-constructed home team's dugout as their personal love-nest after wrapping up their game of catch for the evening. Dorcas didn't really care to know that the Commander sucked face as excitedly as any teenager would, almost putting his pubescent partner to shame with his eagerness, but it didn't matter.
Dorcas, more often that not, happened to be in the right place at the right time is all, and the others would just have to deal with it.
-fin-