Merry Christmas everyone! I thought I'd try my hand out at some scoopshipping. I own nothing.

Pretty Blue Eyes

Carly had never been popular. She wasn't sure people even liked her. They always tended to use her or get angry with her when she did not do something the correct way. She could remember a particular time during high school when she had been asked to the Senior Prom. –She had never been good enough to go to a Duel Academy and her foster parents could not afford to send her to one, anyway. - She had been thrilled. It had been the star duelist on the Duel Team. He had been handsome, popular, and everything she was not. His name had been Jun.

Her parents did not want to buy her a dress; therefore, she had been forced to make a trip to the old lady down the block. The woman was no way related to Carly or her foster parents, but had taken it upon herself to become Carly's grandmother. Carly was not sure why she had. Maybe it had to do with her foster parents dumping her on the old woman on their date nights or any chance they could. Either way, she had found a simple, yet elegant, gown made of a silky cotton material that fell to her ankles. Of course, improvements had been needed. It smelt of old lady –moth balls and old peppermint- and was a tad out of style. Though, despite Gran's old age, she still had her mind about her. When Carly returned the next week, a day before the prom, Gran had made alterations to the dress. Frills had been cut away and some body had been taken out. It even smelt better.

Of course, as Carly put it on, the right strap did not sit correctly. She sighed, her body was imperfect, and she knew this. Even now, almost five years later, she could not get that darn strap to sit correctly.

Carly had not been trained in the ways of beauty skills. All she could do was put her hair back in a messy bun and apply some lipstick and mascara. She thought she looked somewhat pretty. And pretty was something she never thought she could be. She wasn't even in the category of attractive. At least in her eyes, anyway.

She sat on her porch steps for almost an hour. Her date never came. She tracked down a taxi and spent what little money she had on a ride to Kaiba Corp., where the dance was being held. She held her ragged clutch –yet another gift from Gran- and proceeded to enter the building.

And she wanted to cry.

There he was. Jun, her date. He was dancing with his supposed "ex-girlfriend." A single tear fell from her eyes. Of course, it went unnoticed behind her thick glasses. Though, her presence, as much as she wished, did not go unnoticed. A group of Jun's friends had noticed her entrance. Fingers pointed. Laughs sounded.

It was a week before she was able to return to her classes.

Presently, she was standing before her mirror, hyperventilating. Jack Atlas was in her apartment. Jack Atlas. In her apartment. She could get the scoop of a life time! She would finally make the front page and make decent money!

If she could just leave her room.

"Come on, Carly!" She told herself sternly. "March out there and get a scoop!" Of course, there was just the tiny problem of Jack being completely rude to her earlier. She had saved him, brought him to her apartment, and cared for him. And he had the nerve to be rude to her!

What little bit of confidence she had wavered out. "Aahh!" She groaned, her eyes widening behind her thickened spectacles. What to do, what to do…

She turned away from her dresser's mirror with a sigh. Maybe if she had been pretty, she would have the confidence to talk to him. To stand up to him.

To stand up to the world.

She flopped onto her bed, her face burrowing into her pillow. Confidence was something every reporter needed. And she lacked it. Severely. Her noise twitched as her frames dug into her tender flesh. Lifting her head up, she sighed. It was her apartment, she whispered. There was no reason to be scared. This wasn't high school and the worst that could happen was that he would say "no comment." And any good reporter could at least get some small comment or reaction. And wasn't she a good reporter? Yes. No? Maybe?

"Aahh!" Her hands flew up to slap either side of her head. Why did she bother? She should have chosen a less…A less what? What was it about her job that was so horrible? Just because she wasn't as pretty as the other reporters didn't mean anything. It was the scoop that did!

She pushed herself forcibly up from her bed, a determined gleam in her eye. Yes. She would get that scoop! If it was the last thing-

The young reporter lost her footing, apparently she had, for once, too much confidence and had projected herself too fast. She yelped and fell back onto her rear. A soft 'boom' sounded in the room and the bedside table vibrated. "Oohh…" She cried. Just when she thought things would be okay.

A pounding on the door.

"Huh?" She looked towards the brown wood standing between her and whatever was on the other side. Another round of pounding.

"Carly?" Jack's voice broke through the silence left after the knocking.

A blush rose to her face. Jack Atlas was checking on her! Jack Atlas was concerned for her! Her face turned bright red and a dazed looked entered her eyes. She cupped her face. "Oh, Jack!" She gushed.

The door was thrown opened and Jack stormed in. His eyes darted around before landing on her. "Oi, what are you doing on the floor?"

"Jack!" She admired, "You came to protect me!"

The famous duelist, snorted. "No. I was coming to protect myself! Someone might have broken in to force me back! And no one forces Jack Atlas!"

"Oh…" Carly picked herself off the floor. "But, um, Jack, sir, can I please…I'm a…That is…" Her eyes shifted to her stomach. Her camera was not hanging there. She gasped and leapt across the room to collect it from the dresser. "A scoop!" She cried, wheeling with the camera posed for a shot.

But, he was gone.

Her shoulders sagged. She had been so close.

She could hear his footsteps on the tiled floor of the kitchen. Setting her jaw, she marched out of the room, her hand clasped protectively around her camera. "Jack!" She called, entering the room that doubled as a living room and a dining room. The Speed King raised his brow as he looked up from where he was fumbling to open a bowl of instant noodles.

Carly felt a caring smile drift across her face as her hand fell away from her camera. "Do you…need some help?" The reporter crossed the room to stand beside him.

His face was stony and he did not reply as he handed her the noodles. She carefully took the package and easily tore away the wrappings. She turned her back on him and began the simple steps to prepare the small meal. Jack's silence continued and she began to feel a tad unnerved. Her frames slid down her noise to reveal her beautiful blue eyes. "You should have asked for some help," she mumbled.

The duelist kept his eyes glued on the counter, clearing avoiding her gaze. "Jack Atlas doesn't need help."

Carly set the tea kettle onto the eye of her stove once it was heated. "Jack, everyone needs help sometimes." She eyed his wounded arm. "You needed my help to duel…" She reminded him softly.

He scoffed. "Any fool can draw a card."

Tears pricked at her eyes and she abruptly turned away from him. "Maybe…" She whispered hoarsely.

The blonde man seemed to realize he had said something wrong. Jack opened his mouth, but whatever he had wished to say was drowned out by the high pitched scream of the water kettle. Carly deftly lifted the metal pot and poured water up to the fill line of the Styrofoam bowl. She smiled dejectedly up at him and mumbled for him to hand her another noodle bowl. He silently did so and she prepared her own meal.

"Carly, was it?" Jack asked.

She nodded, her long hair tapping against her lower back as she did so. "Carly Nagisa," she reminded him. A pain formed in her heart that he had not even bothered to make sure he knew the name of the woman he was staying with.

"Jack Atlas does not always say this, so you better remember it!" He began grandly. Carly lowered her tea pot and glanced up at him through her thick lenses. "If I did something to upset you, I'm sorry."

Her brow twitched. If he did something. What a…He was such a dim witted, self-centered, rude, horrible man! Carly's noise twitched as her lips pursed in frustration. But, she could not say anything back to him. He was her meal ticket. She just needed to get a scoop and then she had job security for another month. "I accept your apology," she whispered as she handed him his dinner.

She then opened a drawer to the left of her waist and pulled out two sets of chop sticks. She handed Jack one pair before heading towards her table. She pushed aside newspaper clippings, photos, and other remainders from her work before sitting down to begin her meal. She smiled and gestured to the empty chair across from her. "You need to eat and regain your strength, Jack."

He sat across from her and stared down at his bowl, quietly pondering how he could use his chopsticks to eat the meal. Casting his manners to the wind, he picked up the warm Styrofoam and began to loudly slurp from it, as if the noodle dish were a warm beverage. Carly blinked in surprise for a moment before she blushingly remembered that it had been foolish of her to hand him the eating devices as he only had one hand. At least he had not asked her to feed him.

Her eyes widened behind her glasses and she choked on her noodle mixture at the mental images of feeding Jack Atlas. He raised a brow at her as she coughed, working to clear her airways of any wayward noodles. Her classes fell from her face and landed in her lap, leaving her in a fuzzy world of colors.

"Oh!" She groaned as she rushed to replace them.

She held the frames towards the overhead light, seeking to find if the lenses had been scratched or smudged. Luckily, they had fallen in her lap and no such damage was found. Smiling happily, she twisted her wrist to return them to her face. Abruptly, Jack's hand clamped around her wrist, stopping the movement. Blinkingly, she stared confusing at him. "J-Jack," she stammered. Squinting her eyes, she could almost make him out.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" He asked.

"Bad eye sight. Always been this way since I was a kid." It had always been something that most of her foster parents grumbled about. Her eyes were so terrible that the prescription lenses cost a fortune, even with the technology of the current time. She always had the same frames, only changing two or three times as she grew up, and yet her yearly visits to the optician always made her guardians weary. There had been a few years were her glasses had been either her birthday or Christmas gift. Not that she minded. Carly never really wanted anything. She was happy with her antiqued camera and her notebooks.

"Why not just get contacts?" Jack asked, distracting her from her musings. "Why wear those hideous things?"

Carly frowned and jerked her hand away and surprisingly, he let her go. "I like glasses," she replied. Truth be told, it was easier to fork out over half a million yen then to pay for contacts every month. She had budgeted for it once and found out she would be paying more in the long run after buying the rinsing solutions.

As Jack returned to his slurping, Carly puzzled over why he had been interrogating her about her eyes. Surely something so unimportant did not truly interest him? And besides, she was supposed to be interviewing him. Grinning to herself, she realized she could use this easy conversation as a way to get her scoop. "Why?" Carly asked, stirring her soup with her chopsticks.

"Why what?" Jack questioned.

The reporter could tell he was beginning to close his walls again. "Why do you care?" She inquired. "Not many people really care about why other's wear glasses. What about it made you ask? Maybe…something from you childhood? Do you wear glasses? Any…" Carly felt her face heat up. "Any girlfriends wear glasses?"

The Duel King pushed his bowl away, his hunger suddenly gone. The questions were normal and would be asked by any common person on the street given their earlier conversation. However, the rapid fire way she asked them made him question her intent. Was she just another rabid fangirl? Did she want to open the topic of his love life? Not that he had one, so to speak. He did not need a woman to get in his way. Of course, he did get lonely at times and would hire a whore or waggle his finger at some fangirl.

Noticing the strap hanging from her neck, his gaze traveled down to where her camera sat on her lap. Narrowing his eyes on the device, he wondered if she was a reporter. In the celebrity world, a reporter could make or break one's life overnight.

He was left with two options. One, act like a jerk in the case she was a rapid fangirl that wanted to date him and hope he scared her away. Or two, say sugar coated words to make him look good on the next cover of Duelists Weekly.

If he chose the wrong option, he would ruin his image. Or find himself with a stalker.

Brow twitching, he demanded, "Who are you?"

She pointed to herself. "I told you. I'm Carly." Carly said her name slowly and loudly, as if she was speaking to a deaf person.

Jack shook his head and stood from the table, his chair falling backwards and smacking against the cheap tile floor. The clatter frightened Carly and she shrunk into herself, fearing that Jack would hit her for some unknown reason. "What are you Carly? A reporter? A fangirl?"

Carly slowly loosened her muscles and peered up at him, a smile curling her lips and a giggle bubbling out her mouth. She was both. And both, in his point of view, were horrible. So, how would she answer in a way that would work for her? "I'm…a girl…that never really sees anything important. People tend to step over me. And Jack," she stood slowly, her hand rising to curl into a fist before her heart. "You're the first person that has ever come to my home and asked questions about me. You're famous and I never thought someone like you would be sitting at my table and asking questions. At least," her cheerful expression deflated and her eyes looked away. "Questions that aren't about whether or not I can make this month's payments."

Jack's face became emotionless. He could remember a time when he and his friends had been poor like her. Had not been visited very often. How…lonely it had been. Though, no matter how lonely it was, he had always had his friends. The friends he had betrayed.

It seemed that the fates were giving him a chance to make up for his past mistakes. Sighing heavily, he decided to tell her the truth. "I asked because…you have really…pretty eyes," he grumbled, almost hoping she wouldn't hear him.

Carly beamed at him. "Thank you, Jack!" No one had ever used the word pretty towards her in her entire life. And it felt wonderful. Even if it was just for something as silly as her eyes, it still meant the world to her.

And it gave her the confidence she needed to get her scoop. Holding up her camera, she asked, "Can I…take your picture? You see…I'm a reporter and I desperately need a scoop."

Ordinarily, Jack would have been angered that she had not said she was one of them until now. But, remembering what she had said before and the almost thankful expression he had seen cross her face caused his harden heart to quiver. He wanted to help this poor little girl that had taken him in. That had helped him.

"Just this once." He said firmly.

And that was all the confirmation Carly needed.

XXX

A week later, Mikage collected the daily newspaper from the front desk of Jack's apartment building. As she took the elevator up to his room, she glanced down and almost choked on her coffee. Smirking up at her from the front cover was none other than her boss. Dropping everything save the paper, she tore it open to read the interview.

Hours after his dueling accident, Jack Atlas sat down to a candid interview. He revealed his love for ramen noodles and blue eyes…

Mikage's mouth hung open as she read the rest of the article written by that pesky Nagisa girl. How dare she write such things about Atlas-sama! Granted, his love for noodles was a common factoid, but the Blue Eyes? Was she trying to make him out to be Seto Kaiba?

As the lift's doors opened into Jack's penthouse, she collected her spilt coffee and papers before storming to where he sat on the couch. "Jack," she shouted. He barely turned to face her. "Have you seen what that girl wrote about you?"

"Drop it."

Mikage back pedaled. "What? She wrote you out to be Kaiba! All this talk of Blue Eyes!"

Jack returned his attention to the replay of his past duels on the grand T.V. before him. Unwontedly softly, he told his secretary, "She had pretty blue eyes…"

"She had…pretty…blue eyes…" Mikage repeated. Glancing down at the paper once more, she reread the article. Dropping her supplies once more, she repeated the last line like a mantra.

He is a burning soul that will never pause to help a poor girl out.

Her attention went once more to her boss. The girl had had a dingy apartment…and wasn't the best reporter. Had Jack let her interview him to help her?

Had Jack…changed?

All for a little reporter with pretty blue eyes?

End. Thanks so much for reading!