A/N: What would have happened if Shiro had lost the bet in chapter 104? I've already done the cosplay thing, so… um, mostly leftover ideas. ^_^' For Dare mo, who was wondering, and annichch9817, who were also curious. Rating is probably a mild M for suggestive themes.

I do not own or profit from any of what Kazue Kato has created.

They had agreed between themselves that there would be no cheating. No bending of space, no stopping time. No magic, only skill. Unfortunately, the man who operated Mepphy Shooting didn't know that. All he knew was that Johann Faust V was a game enthusiast, a sore loser, and his employer. That was Shiro's theory, at least, since there was no way he could have lost against Mephisto at target shooting unless he'd been given a gun with a flawed sight.

"Is so cute, Shiro-kun!" Midori beamed. "And cute face, too!"

Shiro's facial expression was not cute, and neither were the white cat's ears clipped to his hair. Or the cat's tail strapped to his waist. Or the bloody bell around his neck, which kept jingling since Midori just couldn't leave it alone.

"Sen-chan, could you collar your girlfriend a moment so I can pocket this one?" he mumbled over the pool table, eyes and cue stick focused on number seven.

"She wants the bell", the little Futotsuki girl informed from one of the common room's barstools.

"I could never have guessed." With a crisp click, the ball went… into the wood beside the pocket. "Crap." He straightened back up, and slid a finger inside the silk ribbon around his neck to tug some more space for his Adam's apple. "I'd give it to you, but I don't think Mephisto would approve."

He vividly remembered just how much Mephisto did approve of that… what was it called? Neko boy outfit? Some stupid otaku crap the old goat had ordered the minute after he won their bet. And when the delivery had arrived he'd… What's the word? Fangirled? Fanboyed…? Acted absolutely bat-shit silly over how "kawaii" Shiro was with cat's ears.

"Betting with demons is stupid thing, Shiro-kun."

"Uh-huh." He was damn lucky their bet had only included clothing – Mephisto had wanted pictures and posing. "Sadly, I am a stupi- Oi! Don't touch my balls!"

Across the table, Midori did stop poking at the pool balls: and over at the regular tables, Sen suffocated a bout of snorting laughter in her sleeve.

"Really, Shiro-kun…? You don't like it when girls touch your balls?"

Ah, man… He just chuckled helplessly, hanging on the cue stick he'd propped up against the floor.

"Now you've got me imagining shoving a cue stick into my balls…" His fingers raked through his hair in their usual habit, and almost pulled off one of the ears. Grunting in annoyance, he rested the cue stick in the crook of his arm and began the endeavour of re-clipping it in place. "My mouth is my worst enemy, you know? Making me say the wrong things and making bets with demons."

His expertise with hair really only extended to cutting and dyeing. That clip wasn't getting back on anytime soon. How had Mephisto done this…?

"You're no good with that." Sen had trotted over to him, and he obediently bent down so she could put the ear in place. "There." A pleased smile touched her lips. "You almost look like a demon, wearing these." Big, dim eyes looked him over, slowly, slowly. "Really, you do. I don't know how, but they fit you."

Wasn't the first time Sen said weird shit, but nonetheless it made him feel a bit awkward.

"Huh… Maybe that's why he liked them so much on me."

"Maybe Sir Pheles wishes you were a demon?" Midori pondered, busy with checking how far down into the pool table pocket she could get her hand. "If you were, he could bed you."

"I think I'd rather shove a cue stick into my balls."

"Oi, Shiro: weren't ya gonna go down-town with us ta see Ryuuji-san's performance?" Shizuku's voice inquired, slightly muffled on the other side of the dorm room door.

"I was… but… you know, my bet with Mephisto…?" Shiro had retreated to his room, and he was not planning on leaving it.

"Yeah, I heard about the neko boy thing. Dun' worry, people will be there ta lis'en ta Ryuuji-san, not go weirdo-spottin'. An' if they do, I think Midori-chan 'as tried out some new spaced-out hairdo on li'l miss Futotsuki that'll draw more attention than you."

Oh, that sounded nice, didn't it? Pity he didn't have the neko outfit anymore. Yes, pity.

"Look…" Shiro muttered through the door. "He picked new stuff for me to wear, and I really don't wanna go outside like this."

Silence.

"…are ya naked?" the voice deadpanned.

"What the f-?! No, I'm not naked!" he sputtered. "I just can't go out like this, okay? Tell Ryuuji-san I wanted to come but I got too much homework to do, or something."

"Come on, 'ow bad can it be? Yer pride can take a li'l bruisin', it won't kill ya", he said, trying not to sound too pleading. "Ryuji-san was really looking forward ta showin' how much that summer tour with the pros 'as improved 'is playin', ya know."

Oh, goodie, bring on the bad conscience and broken expectations. …and after a long, long inner debate between Stupid Shiro and Even More Stupid Shiro, he opened his big, trouble-causing mouth:

"Think you can let me borrow one of your ponchos to wear outside?"

"Yeah, sure thing. …ya want it now? 'Kay, I'll get it, hang on."

Shiro was quite sure that poncho had a hood, and if it did he might be able to avoid identification. If it didn't, he'd just… have to explain the long tresses of fake hair somehow. And those bloody uncomfortable shoes.

"Here ya g-" Oh sweet mother of God, the sight Shizuku beheld when he opened the door. "Shi… ro…? Nh, ngh… NGAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!"

"Gimme that", Shiro snarled over the rattling of colourful bangles as he snatched up the poncho from the floor. The rest of Shizuku was also on the floor, laughing hysterically. "And fucking quit it, will you?"

Oh come on, he just wanted to get the damn thing over his head! But there were pigtail clips of long, curly white fake hair in the way, and his glasses were in the way, and the bloody rainbow beads in his glasses strings were in the way…!

"Oh sweet Buddha ye've gyahahahahahaa ye've got stockings! An'- an' friggin' bloomers…!"

"Who said you could peep under my skirt, asshole?!" Lolita shoes were uncomfortable, but damn were they good for stomping on people.

"But it'sssahahahah ow ow izza lovely skirt, Shi- ow! I always thought ye were missin' s-ahhahahahaheheee some pink 'n' dots an' ribbo- OW don't kick my nuts ya crazy tranny!"

"And I don't care what it is as long as it's got trousers!" Shiro finished, after shouting at Mephisto's smug grin for a good fifteen minutes.

Shizuku probably still lay on the floor in his dorm room. No amount of kicking had helped, and in the end Shiro had thrown the poncho at him, stomped over to the door, and pulled the key to Faust Mansion out of his dainty Hello Kitty purse.

It was a testament to how awful he looked that Belial, Mr. Professional Stone Face, had cast one glance at him, and rushed out into the kitchen to laugh his ass off out of sight.

"Your body language clashes terribly with your dress", Mephisto remarked with the concerned look of a shop assistant doing his damnedest not to understand a customer's frustration.

"My whole body clashes with this stupid thing!"

"Not to mention that face you make: very uncute…"

"I know something that will clash with your face if you don't get me something else to wear! With trousers!"

Mephisto put down the manga he had been reading with an animated sigh, and raised his fingers to snap them – while at the same time raising his eyebrow as if to say "are you sure about this?" Yes, Shiro was very sure about this. A fucking Hello Kitty jumpsuit would be better than this.

*poof*

…well, gotta be grateful for the small blessing: he did get trousers, even if that was the extent of-

"What the…? Isn't this, like, half an SS uniform?" he blurt out as he inspected the trousers and the high, black boots a bit more closely. The shit looked military – or like a police uniform, now that he noticed the handcuffs in his belt and the… riding crop… and… gag ball… "Oh hell you didn't…"

"Why, goes much better with your body language – and really well with your body..." He could practically feel Mephisto's bedroom gaze on his skin as it touched places it shouldn't. "Why must you be so difficult, Shiro? That's the blushing face you should have made with the Lolita dress", he whined, and sounded very earnest about it, which didn't count for shit when you looked at his grin and saw how far off in fantasy land he was.

"Is it too late to ask if I can have the dress back…?" Shiro mumbled miserably from behind his hands. "I feel filthy…"

"I think you need to get some perspective on 'filthy', mein Offizier~"

A/N: …and it was around here that my imagination disconnected from the brain's language centre and moved on with visual output only. x) Sorry for the absolute pointlessness of this, but I think I needed some light-weight writing to take my mind off the more complex stuff.