Are there other things I should be writing? Yeah... but I haven't been feeling well so I wrote this as a treat to myself. This idea has been festering in my head for far too long. GX Rivalshipping just seemed like the best vehicle for it (also, I love their dumb asses). This is my first GX fanfic ever, and it's been quite a while since I watched the anime, so take my characterizations with a grain of salt because I only vaguely know what the hell I am doing. I will explain a couple of my choices to you, though – the timeframe is decidedly the beginning of lockdowns for maximum social distancing awkwardness. I chose the English names and a vaguely American setting for the aesthetics (I just love the idea of Jaden totally rocking that ugly brown UPS uniform). In this AU, Duel Monsters exists, but it's just… a card game (le gasp). Anything else should mostly get explained in the narrative. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

A Man in Uniform

Ojama sat on the desk, his fluffy yellow tail curling around his paws – the tip twitching back and forth as his beady eyes watched Chazz stare at his laptop. Chazz sniffed to himself discreetly – it was allergy season for him – and listened as the voices on his headset talked avidly to one another.

Chazz took his work seriously. Very, very seriously. But that didn't mean he wasn't pissed off when someone called for a pointless meeting that could easily be covered over email. He thrummed his long fingers on the flank of his coffee mug.

Ojama made a low noise and lowered his head to sniff the still gently steaming beverage. Chazz huffed at him and pulled the mug away just so with but a twitch of his fingers.

"Last thing you need is some caffeine," Chazz muttered.

The cat made another one of his low chirping sounds, but Chazz hardly paid attention when one of his colleagues asked, "What was that, Chazz?" Curious, not reprimanding – they wanted to make sure they got his input if he had any.

His coworkers annoyed him sometimes, but he couldn't deny that they were attentive people who did a good job.

Chazz straightened in his seat, though he knew that no one could presently see him. "Nothing. I didn't mean to interrupt." He hastily muted himself and glared at his idiot (beloved) cat. "You're always getting me into trouble, moron."

Ojama meowed – and he had an annoying meow, simultaneously squeaky and raspy, like he was addicted both to smoking a pack a day and also eating entire squares of sandpaper just for the burn of it. Chazz sighed through his nose – as best as he could with his congestion – and reached a pale hand out. Ojama butted his head into Chazz's palm, and a stuttered purr filled the air.

Chazz scratched behind a small yellow ear before he shifted to jot some notes down. Finally, some useful information.

"About time," he grumbled. Soon enough, the meeting was over, and Chazz started to plug away on the paperwork updates he needed to make.

His phone trilled, and he switched his Bluetooth headset over from his work laptop to his phone.

"What do you want?" he snapped, exasperated but with an undertone of affection.

"Well, hello to you, too, grouch ass," Alexis huffed, just as playful. "I remember the days when you adored me."

"Yeah, and you hated every minute of it," Chazz replied.

"Anyways, I know you're probably getting all cabin feverish in your swanky little house, so I got you a gift." Chazz froze. He could practically hear her evil smirk. "Should be brought by UPS today."

"Goddamnit, Alexis," he hissed, heat rushing to his face as suddenly and violently as gunfire. He held his forehead in his palm and leaned his elbow on the desk top.

"What?" she drawled innocently. "Can't I get my best friend a gift?"

"Everyone thinks you're so sweet and caring, but you're actually the devil incarnate. I know the truth, so don't play dumb with me. I don't need you playing matchmaker for me and mucking about in my business." He stood, coffee in hand, and ambled from his small study-like area to wander into his living room. Ojama trailed at his feet before jumping onto the couch to watch his person continue to seemingly talk to thin air.

Chazz glared out the bay window to the mouth of his small driveway, as if that big black truck would materialize from nothing.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alexis chirped. "Anyways, Chazz, have a nice day. I hope you enjoy your gift! It's two-fold!" Lilting and sing-song, making Chazz roll his eyes. He didn't have a chance to reply before a dull beep informed him that she had ended the call.

He ignored Ojama as the flat-faced cat began to wail for his attention again. He drummed his fingers on his mug. He felt a fluttering tug in his gut.

He was getting a package today.

He found himself fidgeting, checking his clothes – a plain black thermal turtleneck and some comfortable black jeans – and rolling his wrist in to check the watch that he still habitually put on every single day. He was getting a package today.

It was the third time that week.

Of course, work would send things to him here and there when he needed physical copies of sensitive paperwork that they didn't want to send over email (several of his colleagues were computer science engineers or programmers and held an incredible amount of paranoia when it came to storing or sending files on the company server, especially after the last corporate espionage incident) or the occasional prototype for Chazz to inspect with his own eyes, as was his preferred way of screening for production errors (because when you want things done right, you should do it yourself).

And, of course, there were some personal packages mixed in, more often nowadays that he was stuck at home due to the pandemic. After all, he had more opportunity to scroll on his phone and purchase stupid shit – even he could admit that sometimes his hard-won impulse control would fail him. Yeah, that was why. Because he was bored.

Not because the UPS guy was a dorky brunette with a gorgeous smile and an absolutely impeccable ass.

Nope, no siree.

Chazz gulped, tugged at the collar of his shirt.

Fuck.

The time ticked away slowly on his watch, and he spent every second of it tidying up, flitting room to room like a hummingbird, and sometimes pausing by the bay window to stare out the window and sip his cooling coffee without tasting a single drop of it. It was stupid, he was stupid, pathetic, but the nerves made him feel like he was itching under his skin and he had to keep busy to keep his mind off it.

"Goddamnit, Alexis," he hissed into his mug. This was her fault. All her fault! He should have known better than to say anything about his very minor attraction to the UPS guy, especially to her. But no, he had to open his big fat mouth, and she had to get all interested and meddlesome like she always did whenever it concerned Chazz's love life (or lack thereof).

Not that Chazz couldn't bag a guy if he didn't try!

He was handsome, and smart, and capable, but he was busy! Yeah! He was busy, and they were in the middle of a pandemic, anyways! This was no time for dating!

He froze, standing right there in front of his bay windows, when the big dark truck came rumbling up to the curb.

Fuck.

He could see the man's silhouette in the cab as he shuffled around, then ducked back into the cargo hold to find the package meant to be delivered here.

When he emerged, Chazz still couldn't find it in himself to move.

The standard issue brown hat was backwards on his head – ridiculous and juvenile – but it let those warm, sparkling eyes out to the light of day, and a broad grin dimpled those shapely cheeks. Forearms and biceps pulsed with muscle definition out from short sleeves as broad hands shifted on the package they carried.

A something hot tugged low in Chazz's gut, and he gritted back the moan he almost huffed into his coffee.

Goddamn. That lean, muscled body made that ugly, frumpy uniform look like a work of art.

Chazz knew he was staring, but he couldn't help himself, couldn't tear his eyes away from how those strong thighs flexed with each step and made it seem like those shorts were about to pop at the seams at any moment. Please, god, Chazz would pay money to see that shit.

Ojama was in the window yowling at the man approaching the doorstep – he was weirdly vocal about guests, but Chazz hardly noticed as the cheerful delivery guy gave a broad grin and a two-finger salute through the window. Chazz barely managed to nod in response. God, the guy looked like a ditz, and he grinned like a hooligan, but he was always just so warm and happy and Chazz couldn't begrudge him it when his ass looked like that in those fucking shorts.

And yeah, Chazz let himself get an eyeful of it when the guy was turning away to saunter back up to his truck. He was whistling, high, loud, and clear, that sharp, masterful kind of whistling that always made Chazz secretly boil with envy because his whistles made it sound like he was having an asthmatic attack.

The guy was stepping up into his vehicle, and Chazz groaned to himself.

He was so gay.

He'd went through this stint in high school where he had been a little girl crazy (and poor Alexis had been the focus of his attentions at the time), but it seemed to be just some grasp at any kind of normalcy (in this case, heteronormativity), because when he finally put his foot down to go to the university he wanted to go to (and not the one his brothers had picked out for him), and he got to spread his wings and find himself, he found that he very, very much liked the male form. (Which, retrospectively, it made sense that he had always gotten a little hot under the collar when he attended various sporting events in high school and all those sweaty boys were running around and glistening, sinewy and toned, in the fluorescent lights.)

He was brought out of his own thoughts by Ojama wailing pitifully at the box on the doorstep.

Oh, right. The package.

He ducked out the door, and dazedly lifted a hand when the UPS guy waved goodbye quite vigorously as he drove off.

He heaved the box up and stepped inside.

"So you got it?"

"Yes, I got it, Alexis," he hissed, like Ojama sometimes did at the neighbor's cat that sometimes came traipsing in the yard. "I hate you!" Nearly venomous, one might think, if he weren't so flustered.

She giggled, and it enraged him even more. "Why? What happened this time?"

Chazz empathically gestured with one arm even though she was not around to bear witness to his abject vehemence. "What happened? What happened?! I'll tell you what happened!" He barely registered her assenting, amused hum. "I ended up just standing there and staring at him like a creep! God, it was awful!"

"Then don't stare at him."

"Oh my goodness, what is wrong with you! That's like – that's like – god, I don't even have the words right now. I am done. I am fucking done."

"Wow, I really gotta get a look at this guy if he leaves the Chazz Princeton gaping like a fish out of water."

He growled, yanking a hand through his thick, dark hair.

"Maybe you should just talk to him," she said, nonchalantly, and he could imagine her, all elegantly crossed legs as she inspected her nails and listened to him have a hormone-induced meltdown.

"Just talk to him?! Alexis, we are in the middle of a pandemic!"

"Yeah? And you've been cloistered in your house like a nun in the convent since the beginning of the lockdown. You even get your groceries delivered to you. I don't think you'll be giving anyone any germs."

"That's not the point! How do I know if he's been following protocols! He could be a walking plague ship, for all I know!" And then he plowed on before she could continue. "And what would I say to him anyways?" He sarcastically lowered his voice into a posh English accent, "'Please, sir UPS man, would you allow me the honor of licking your exquisite biceps?' No!"

She laughed delightedly at that, and he had to bite down on his fiery feelings, lest they slip from his grasp. However, it proved impossible, because he found himself smiling as she laughed herself breathless.

She was still catching her breath, and he could imagine her wiping away tears, as she finally managed to say, "Well, I don't know what to tell you, then."

"Wow, you sure are helpful," he sneered.

She hummed, and some tone hidden in there made it sound cunning, sinister. "I am, as a matter of fact."

"You're not helping!" Chazz all but screeched.

"Listen, sweetheart, there's nothing you can do to stop me from mailing packages to your house, and that's the end of it."

He inhaled sharply, but she was going on, "Anyways, I found this song I think you would really like…"

He pouted.

In the current climate, packages were inevitable.

Thus, so was the hot UPS guy.

Chazz managed to forcibly remove himself from in front of the living room window several times, but Ojama's continuous nonverbal narration of each encounter always clued him in to what was happened just at his door (and the delivery man's insistent whistling helped, too).

But, usually, he surveilled the attractive blue collar worker from more inconspicuous locations of his lair.

"Look at him, with his stupid dopey grin. Ugh, he's all sweaty," Chazz mumbled, far less disgusted than he should be about the last part of his admonishing statement.

It was true – it was a particularly hot day, and it seemed like a bit of a sweat stain was starting to form on the back of that ugly brown shirt, and it was slicking the material down, made the muscles just kina pop, made Chazz swipe his tongue over his front teeth reflexively because he couldn't help imagining taking a bite out of that delicious man.

"I bet he doesn't even stay hydrated." Which, there was no proof of this, but the guy had to have some faults to make up for that perfectly hot body and ridiculously handsome face.

Before the guy climbed back into his truck, he tugged dramatically at the collar of his shirt, baring for a moment one gleaming, richly tanned trapezius muscle.

A strange, strangled sound gurgled in Chazz's throat, and he palmed a blistering cheek in an almost mournful manner.

Goddamn, he really needed to get laid if this sweaty, stinky himbo was making him all hot and bothered. He tried to think back to the last time he had, in fact, gotten laid, and when the counted months stretched on and on, he quickly halted in his tracks before he could sink into melancholy and despair.

It wasn't long before another package arrived, and Chazz knew what it was and when it was coming. Because, after all, the next installment in his favorite book series just came out and he needed it for his collection. So what if it was hard-back when all of his other ones were paperback? It didn't really make a difference in the long run, and besides, Chazz was in dire need of some new reading material.

This time, he devised a trade.

The package for a bottle of water left innocently on the top step.

The UPS guy grinned as he set the box down. He looked up to see Chazz (and Ojama) quietly watching (yowling pitifully) through the window.

"This for me?" the guy asked, beaming, eyes twinkling, as he pointed one finger at the bottle.

Biting back a red-hot blush at the direct acknowledgement, Chazz nodded behind the mug of coffee raised to his face.

That grin, somehow, got even brighter, and that beam put rays of sunshine to fucking shame. "Wow, thanks, dude!"

Fuck. I've been dude-zoned, Chazz thought with only a small amount of petulance.

The UPS guy walked off with a new skip to his step, throwing the water bottle up in the air – plastic flashing in the sun – before catching it deftly. He waved enthusiastically before he drove off, and Chazz found himself simply lifting a hand in response.

This trend continued. Chazz would leave a bottle of water on the front step each time he was expecting a delivery (he felt bad whenever he wasn't expecting a delivery but one came anyways and he did not have one set out). Sure, he ended up ordering more packages of water with each of his grocery orders, but… clearly the man wasn't hydrating himself!

Eventually, he started leaving out little snacks, too, like bags of chips or the occasional candy bar, and he had a complicated relationship with the warm, fluttering feeling in his chest that occurred every time the UPS guy made a delighted, ecstatic whoop at each little gift Chazz left for him.

Then, one day, he left something in return.

Chazz ambled out onto his front step, and as bent down to pick up the box, he noticed a small plastic bag resting innocently on top. He lifted it up. It had what looked to be small kibbles and a folded-up piece of paper inside.

He did not tear it open eagerly. No, he was perfect calm about it. His hands were just a little sweaty from the humidity, that's all! Yeah, that was why he fumbled with it.

He pulled out the note first.

It was a sloppy, but still (barely) intelligible scrawl, for the cat. what's its name? and why does it look like that lol!

When he went inside, he crouched down to give Ojama the little cat treats.

"Guess he likes you. Can't say why. You're uglier than sin and you're constantly bitching at him," Chazz muttered fondly as he scratched behind yellow ears.

The next time a package was due, the UPS guy found a sticky note on the bag of chips left out for him that read, His name is Ojama. And that's honestly just his face.

And he nearly dropped the box on his toe the next time, when there was a water-warped note adhered to the surface that read, haha he's so ugly he's cute. BTW, my name is Jaden. Idk if this is like overstepping or something but you seem like a pretty cool dude. Here's my number. Text me some time ;)

The End

I have very low impulse control and will probably end up writing a sequel to this at some point, but we'll see how it goes. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any constructive criticism for me, feel free to drop down into the comments section to leave it for me. Thank you!