Disclaimer: D. Gray-man and its characters are Hoshino Katsura's, but I hereby claim this AU plot as mine xD;

Beta Reader: ThinE

Theme: Game (for Yullen Week)

Warning: AU, crack-ish.

Summary: Kanda Yu found a new routine aside from buying a stack of figurines and queuing to get the newest games; it was something involving a boy with an old-man hair and a tattoo on the face, who insisted to call him Young Master—to Kanda's absolute dismay.

Author's Notes: OMG I'm so very late! I know! So busy with my real life problems … I'm sorry for being this late m( _ _ )m

This is my alternate 'Game' story (the original one is absolutely long and serious like my other fics, and I decided to finish it later when I have my spare time. Maybe, depends on my writing mood, lol). So anyway, please enjoy this fic for now.

Special thanks to: ThinE because this fic wouldn't be here if not because of our crazy fangirling night; I came with the overall concept and she made it better with her silly random ideas. And also a1y_puff because she helped me finalize the whole fic!

Virtual Reality

Part #1: Game

It didn't require a bright, sunny day, or a friendly weather for Kanda Yu to do what he wanted to. Because even with the thick snow that blanketed practically every corner of Akihabara—rarely, but it happened now—and the temperature that marked fifteen degrees below zero, he was still out in the street, abused by the chilling winter wind, and rooted his feet on the snow in a long, snake-like queue.

It was the premiere of a new awesome game.

Correction. It was the premiere of a new super awesome game. Dokidoki D. Gray Memorial.

So, when he finally got that shining and fabulous game after five long hours standing outside amongst the other over-excited gamer boys, it wasn't confusing that he started to sneeze, and sniff, and tremble from the cold. Wearing five fucking layers of clothes, one sweater and a long coat which made him look like a black snow ball, didn't really help much, apparently.

All suffering from the cold and unable to handle his protesting nose from forming snots and the likes, Kanda finally decided that he must warm himself somewhere. Or else, he would die before playing the super awesome game—and that would be much, much of a pity. Thus in the end, he pushed a glass door open, stepping inside a cafe he found just five minutes from the premiere event to warm his body. Stream of sweet scent managed to break through his clogged nose as soon as he was inside.

A man bowed, welcoming him. But Kanda Yu didn't care, he didn't even need to see what—or who it was, because he simply didn't need to. He nonchalantly walked up to the nearest table, put his black rucksack on one chair and a paper bag filled with that amazing game he had just bought on another chair, before settling his butt on one other chair.

So he practically invaded a table for three persons alone—wait, it was a four-person table… He just lay his coat and sweater on yet another chair.

"Young Master," a sound of someone clearing his throat interrupted him. But who the hell was young master? Not directed to him, obviously. So he simply rummaged his rucksack, taking out the dearest PSP console from it, then put the awesome game in, wore the headset, and—

Dammit, it was really awesome! The opening song as he started the game immediately caught his interest; what could be more fucking ace than the shrieking metal melody along with the cute, cute faces smiling at him, waiting to be chased by him and—oh, he had just spotted a character to be chased. Well, practically he had decided on which character he would chase even from a month ago, when he could only stare at the game's poster. No doubt, this character was indeed his type—

"Young Master!"

Uh-oh, Kanda almost dropped his console.

"First of all, we have a hanger for your coat, and second, please sit on a table for one, because I see you come here all alone, Young Master?"

"Who the fuck is Young Master?" Snapping his face to whoever had made him almost drop his PSP, Kanda caught an outline of a white haired boy wearing a black tuxedo, smiling awkwardly right beside him, and it was—

"Tymcanpy," he groaned with stunned eyes.

"Excuse me?" the one called 'Tymcanpy' tweaked his eyebrows in confusion.

Kanda was silent—but a moment later he narrowed his eyes, tutted, and glanced back to his console; pressing various buttons so fast, but lowered the volume of his PSP nonetheless. "Who the hell are you, anyway? I'm not your Master whatsoever. "

The boy tilted his head to the side in visible bewilderment, then shrugged.

"If you don't want to move, fine then... I'm here to offer this," he stretched out his gloved hand, handing something Kanda thought a menu, but—

"Please tell me the butler of your choice."

Kanda halted his thumbs from hitting the buttons, glancing at the menu suspiciously.

Did he really hear butler?

An elegant black hard-cover book stretched open in front of him with various photos on its pages. Photos of men—all wearing black tuxedos with smiles that for Kanda were fake and... disgusting.

"Why the hell should I choose a man?" he snarled incredulously, peering at the sickly pale boy.

"Well, Young Master." There was a slight twitch there, on the boy's right eye. "Because, you're in a butler cafe."

Kanda narrowed his eyes, observing the boy as though he was seeing a lunatic—but then as he pulled off his headset, he realized something.

Those giggles. Those eyes on him. Those... Are they all girls?

"Yes, they are all girls," the butler spoke up, gaining an alarmed look from Kanda. Upon this, the boy merely beamed a smile that spoke as though he knew everything. "It was written all over your face."

Kanda harrumphed, glaring to all those flirty girls who were giggling and pointing at him, whispering to each other as if he were an alien. Well, he was an alien in this girls world, but it didn't mean that they could watch him and stare at him as if he were gay and went to this place to get served by a butler to satisfy his needs whatsoever, because those were not true. At. All.

But answering his glare, the girls squealed and Kanda must bit back his action. His glare didn't work on fangirls.

"So, your choice, Young Master?" The butler was starting to be impatient, obviously, as Kanda grunted lowly.

"Fine, here!" he pointed at one of the pictures without actually looking at it. Well, why should he? He just needed to warm himself there and then storm out as soon as possible.

The butler stayed silent for awhile, before finally clearing his throat and wore that stupid smile. "Very well, Young Master. Since you've made your choice, and the chosen person happened to be me, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Allen Walker and—"

"Not Tymcanpy?"

The boy named Allen tweaked his brows in slight confusion, and settled his silvery eyes at Kanda's unreadable gaze. But again, he realized he was talking to an otaku so— "Who is Tymcanpy?"

Kanda coughed—and coughed—and coughed—looking like he was hiding something, throwing his gaze at his console once again and plugged his ears on with the headset. "None of your business, beansprout."

Upon this, Allen cocked his head to the side in irritation, clutching his fists oh-so-tight to maintain his control. He was a professional butler. Duh.

"The name is Allen Walker, once again. Not Tymcanpy or beansprout... Young Master," he tried to explain as patiently as possible, "and since you've picked me..."

He cut their distance, bending over slightly right in front of Kanda that made the latter widen his eyes upon the fresh scent that invaded his nostrils. The beansprout's scent.

"There, your napkin, Young Master," Allen gently covered Kanda's lap with a white napkin, expertly tidying up the table that was messed up by Kanda before. "How would you like your tea for today?"

Kanda coughed. And coughed. And coughed. Again.

Allen pursed his lips in concern, but his eyes sparked something known as—annoyance? "Are you alright, Young Master?"

"…I want green tea with soba," Kanda scowled, a tinge of pink faintly noticed under his eyes.

"Well..." Allen tilted his head, wholly oblivious to whatever was inside Kanda's mind. "We only serve foreign teas and cakes here."

"…What?" For unknown reasons, Kanda seemed offended, his mimic turned into that of incredulity, before he started mumbling to himself in regret. "I can't believe I came to a place without soba!"

If one used a binocular with extra zoom, then a tick on Allen's forehead might have been noticed faintly. But, he was a professional.

"I recommend earl grey with an orange chiffon cake," he cracked the widest smile he could afford, trying hard to ignore the weird customer with long hair and girly face. Ha.

At this Kanda scrutinized him with narrowed eyes, and Allen must resist the urge to spat at the rude customer.

"Yeah, whatever, beansprout," Kanda grumbled finally, planting his eyes back on the PSP screen and increased the sound; Allen rolled his eyes at this.

"Very well then, Young Master," and with that, he took his leave after taking Kanda's coat and sweater along, his lips mouthed something inaudibly as he walked away. Something that looked a lot like jerk or—whatever.

Glancing from the corners of his eyes towards Allen's retreating back, Kanda paused his game, squinting his eyes in deep observation, before shaking his head in disdain. He eyed the PSP's screen once again, and grumbled at the smiling character on it.

The one that he had been dreaming of every night. The one with white hair and a tattoo on the face.

"…Why the fuck does that beansprout look a lot like you, Tymcanpy?"

Going to Akihabara was Kanda Yu's routine for as long as he remembered alive in this world. He didn't know his real parents, but his foster father was a French artist who worked for a huge animation company in Japan. So ever since he was a kid, he had always been brought along to Akihabara every time his foster father wanted to observe the selling of the figurines he designed. Undoubtedly, it made Kanda Yu grow up as an otaku.

But unsettlingly, aside from buying new games and a stack of figurines, Kanda had another routine he had been doing lately. Well at least, he did it once a week.

"Welcome again, Young Master," Allen greeted brightly—though he seemed a little bit half-hearted, but then again, he was a professional.

"Will you be all right with me as your butler again for today?"

Kanda merely grunted on his seat. But he didn't refuse the offer, as always—well yes, he had been doing this for, like, three weeks in a row.

"And how about Assam tea with Mount Blanc for today?"

The answer was only a grunt—again. Allen tugged one of his lips' corners in irritation.

"Look, first of all, there is something called table manner and as your butler I should discipline you," Allen put his knuckles on his hips, eyebrows curled in exasperation. "You shouldn't play that game here!"

"The fuck?" Peering incredulously at the brazen butler, Kanda snatched his eyes off of his dearest PSP's screen. But before he could say anything more, Allen had grabbed the black, shiny console from Kanda's hands, making him turn on his heels in anger.

"What do you think you're doing?" Those dark eyes narrowed in malicious aura; but vaguely Kanda could hear some squeals from the girls in the background. Fuck.

"I'm keeping this," Allen planted that fake smile again. "What do you think am I doing?"

"Asking for death, perhaps?" A low, baritone voice slipped out along that ever threatening growl. But Allen merely eyed the console with bored eyes.

"Oh, so you want to kill me with this Mu—Mu—Mugen?" he almost choked as he read the rows of alphabets graved on the back of the black PSP. "Seriously, what's this? So this thing even has a name?"

Kanda sniffed in offence, as though he had just been caught doing something embarrassing. But no, it wasn't an embarrassing thing, wasn't it?

"Why not?" Kanda countered with a snort as he grabbed back his Mugen from Allen's hands quite harshly, "even a beansprout has a name."

"Well, but, but it was only a conso—" Allen paused midway as a realization hit him. "Who is beansprout? I'm Allen Wal—"

"There," Kanda smirked, plastering that smug look on his face as Allen clammed up midway, again. "You've just admitted that you're a beansprout."

Allen pursed his lips to resist whatever harsh words like 'shite', or 'prick' or 'twat' from sliding out of his mouth—because that would be unprofessional, and he was like, a professional, duh. Therefore he just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"Well then," he spoke up after a short gap, gently placing his hands on Kanda's shoulders, pushing the guy down. "Now will you just sit down and kindly wait for the tea without playing that game?" he practically bent over Kanda as the latter had sat now. "Young Master?"

Kanda pressed his lips in stunned silence.

Today, Allen's scent was that of a cinnamon's, and the pale neck that was slightly covered by the bright silvery hair as Allen was smiling blindingly while squeezing his shoulders, was enough to make Kanda gulp silently.

"I'll be back in a moment," Allen tilted his head to the side, straightening his back elegantly. And there, he left Kanda alone to take care the order—or perhaps it wasn't really Kanda's order because Allen would just bring whatever Jeryy the chef made out of the kitchen. Well, Kanda wouldn't eat the cake anyway.

Meanwhile for Kanda, though, he was still struggling with the lingering scent Allen left around him.

…Fuck.

What the hell was happening to him, anyway?

Weeks and weeks passed by, and Kanda Yu's weekly routine to play games in a butler café with a nagging beansprout butler serving him, had metamorphosed into something, like, once every three days routine.

Seriously. Once every three days he went to a gay café to be served by a gay short beansprout with an annoying gay smile. He would never be bored to ask: What the fuck was happening with him?

"Are you sure you don't want to eat this mouth-watering chocolate mousse cake anymore, Young Master?"

Kanda glanced at Allen with the eyes that screamed bewilderment. What was it that made him feel so attached to this good-for-nothing beansprout?

"This isn't mouth-watering anymore after seeing that water sliding down from your mouth, idiot," Kanda growled with lots—lots—of annoyance. "Stupid butler."

Allen promptly wiped the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his black tuxedo, eyes widened in embarrassment. But then, he realized, nothing was wet on his sleeve.

"Jerk," he muttered with half-lidded eyes. But oh—he forgot; he was a butler here.

"Did I hear our butler said 'jerk' to his customer?"

As a low voice suddenly rang on his ear, Allen jolted his face towards a smirking, red-haired man who was now leaning his arm against Allen's shoulder.

"Master!" he frantically shoved the master's arm away, taking a few steps back until his back hit something hard. And Kanda's eyes widened at this.

Allen's small back—yes, that meant Allen's cute little ass—brushed against his arm.

"I'm sorry, well, it wasn't intentional so—" Allen's voice trailed off in panic. This was about his payment; Cross the master would probably cut his payment again only because of this stupid Japanese prick.

"That's totally up to the customer though," the old man with reeks of alcohol spoke up playfully—but also arrogantly. "What do you say, beautiful one?"

Kanda was lost in his thoughts—he needed seconds, scratch that, he needed almost a minute to register the fact that he had been called as 'beautiful one'.

"…The fuck did you call me with?" he flashed his glare at the so-called master indignantly as soon as his numb brain could work properly again.

"Beautiful one," Master Cross stated nonchalantly, waving his hand in dismissal. "Every customer of us is beautiful. Girls or boys, straight or gay—"

Kanda choked upon this.

"But I'm only interested in sexy women…" Cross rubbed his chin in a thinking manner as though he was having a hard time contemplating something. "As today is Christmas Eve, I will pretend I didn't hear a thing and let you have fun with this butler of your choice," he grabbed Allen's shoulders and let the boy face Kanda rigidly. "Have fun with your gayness time."

And with that, he left the two agape youths, swaying casually to where the girls were chattering on another table. They squealed—again—and giggled upon the man's sweet talks as soon as he had arrived there.

"Bloody twat master," Allen muttered almost inaudibly.

"I'm not gay," Kanda stated firmly.

Allen faced him as though he was staring at an insane person—wait, he was talking to an otaku here—

"Of course you're not, and neither am I, so that clears all doubts, I hope?" Allen smiled oh-so-wide that seeing it would blind Kanda's eyes. A knowing smile for a lunatic was always needed, right?

"…Absolutely," Kanda shrugged; Allen beamed in relief.

"Well then, if you don't want to eat this anymore…" he shrugged lightly, taking the remaining of chocolate mousse on Kanda's table, excusing himself to put it away to the kitchen—

—while in fact he was just searching for an excuse to devour the delicious cake—obviously. But Kanda didn't really mind. He was too busy thinking about something else.

Kanda wasn't gay and Allen wasn't gay. Those facts were what had been claimed by both of them.

Well, of course. Kanda wasn't gay. He wasn't in love with the beansprout or any other man in this world, and would never be. He just wanted to see him, or tease him, or nag him, bug him, enjoy his scent, listen to his voice, dream of him in sleeps, imagine him while jerking o—

Correction. It wasn't the beansprout he wanted to do all of those. It was Tymcanpy, so… It didn't make him in love with the beansprout, right?

Certainly not.

He really didn't love that little guy with fake, fake smile as his default expression, nor was he in love with anyone aside of his dearest Mugen. Kanda Yu didn't need cliché emotions like 'love' in his life because it would only pester him and his haven, his one and only enjoyable moment with Mugen.

But… Why did he find himself coming to the Butler café everyday now?

"That's not the proper way to drink the tea, young master."

Kanda glared, and Allen rolled his eyes in disdain.

"I've told you like, million times. There's no need to use both hands to hold the cup. Look, this is the handle," Allen held Kanda's fingers and led them to wrap the cup handle properly. "Bend your index finger like this, support it with your thumb. You can even lift your pinky finger if the cup is hot."

Kanda wasn't embarrassed. And he didn't even think he was happy that the beansprout had touched his hand, brushing his pale fingers against Kanda's slim and long ones, with the sprout's warm breath stroke his skin as he spoke—

No he wasn't happy. But.

What. The Fuck. Is. This?

What was this with his fluttering heart?

"There, you look better that way," Allen beamed as he straightened his back, taking a step backward as he was finished lecturing Kanda. "It's a pity though, such an elegant tea cup is held by that hand," he frowned a bit then.

Kanda felt his left brow raise in question, not quite getting what the beansprout meant.

"Your fingers, for Lord's sake, Young Master," Allen shook his head with something called disappointment in his eyes. "When was the last time you cut those nails?"

Kanda sipped his tea—Fuck. This felt gay, raising his pinky finger like this—and replied without much care. "I cut them every day. With my teeth."

Upon this Allen's eyes widened, face painted in disbelief. "You... What? Oh my Lord."

"What?" Kanda narrowed his left eye, offended. "What's your business with my nails anyway?"

"None of my business, certainly," Allen nodded with that disgusted expression, "but that's an eyesore though. I can't stand seeing it!"

"Well." Tugging a slight smirk mockingly, Kanda put his cup down and lifted his chin in arrogance. "What do you want then? Take care of my nails like a butler should do?"

Allen blinked twice at that, and—

"Oh my—" he burst out laughing, holding his stomach as Kanda connected his eyebrows in response.

"You…" Allen wiped a tear in the corner of his eye. "You didn't know how gay that sounds? You, with that hair and all, having a manicure, oh, oh…" And he laughed even more.

Kanda growled in anger. This was not what Tymcanpy would say and do to him. No, Tymcanpy wouldn't ever laugh at him, or scold him, or even laugh about his hair. And to even bring about gayness—didn't the beansprout know that Kanda was already having a huge gay-issue right now?

Right. There was no way the beansprout would know.

But again, he wasn't in love with the beansprout, so it didn't make him gay, did it? Because after staring at the stupid butler every day, listening to his voice again and again, feeling the soft skin of his fingers and the sweet scent of tea lingering of him, Tymcanpy's shadow that overlapped the sprout before had gotten thinner and thinner.

And now it had just gone. The beansprout was really not Tym.

Yet, why was he still staring at the sprout even now?

"I suggest you to really cut your nails properly, Young Master," Allen took a deep breath, trying to maintain his collected pose again. "At least for the sake of my eyes."

"…Why should I care about your eyes, moron," Kanda snapped as he slammed his gaze to the tea. Yes, he was going to see anything but the bean.

Allen shrugged lightly upon this and smiled brightly. "Well then, shall I get a refill?"

A grunt was all he got—as expected. So he merely shrugged once again, pursed his lips then pivoted on his heels to stalk towards the kitchen. While Kanda was...

Well, he was practically boring a hole on his tea cup.

He needed to sort out everything, because dammit, he was so confused that he felt his brain could explode any seconds. Why couldn't he find any walkthrough or guide about this problem of his? And why were there no options he could choose from just like those in love simulation games?

Fuck.

He shook his head and breathed slowly. He must think calmly.

First of all, he knew he wasn't in love with the beansprout. That. Was. Absolute. Then, secondly, he knew he wasn't gay. Now that. Was. Absolute too. Then, that the sprout was nothing like Tymcanpy. And that…

…was confusing.

"Oh, look at him," someone in the background giggled, and Kanda's ears perked up instantly. His guess was that it was one of those annoying fangirls, the one with middle-length hair and wearing the same boots all the time. But seriously, he was having a headache for Fuck's sake! Couldn't those girls just shut u—

"He is so in love with his butler."

Kanda's eyes widened super immediately.

"Well," her friend spoke up, this time it must have been that wavy-haired woman with dark circles under her eyes. "That's so obvious, Lenalee."

"Tee-hee, duh! Of course there's no way our gay radars can be wrong!" the one called Lenalee chirped—a failed attempt of whispering of course, and Kanda's jaw almost drop.

Wait.

Waitwaitwait—wait just. A fucking. Minute.

He gripped the handle of his tea cup oh so tight his fingers turned blue; eyes practically trying to break the empty cup apart with his eyes in shock. Now everything around him felt like distorted, he barely even recognized his surroundings. Just the giggles of the girls that now sounded so far away and the fact that another absurd thing had just planted into his brain were the things he could register of.

Because just—

The fuck did they say…?

~See you in addiction!

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