Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.
Spoilers for the movie 28 Days Later within (which, despite what Tristan says, is a pretty good movie).
I started this fic during Christmas break, as a silly little warm-weather self-indulgence. I posted it before it was finished, for some insane reason I can't recall, in April. It's now July, and I'm not finished yet. The moral of this story: I suck at time management. Them's the breaks.
Neko-chan! Don't assault the other readers, it's not nice!
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Seeing as it was Sunday, he wasn't surprised that the phone rang while they were leaving. He slung his duffle over his shoulder and walked out to the bike, leaving Devlin to charm his way into convincing the woman at the counter that they didn't need to be charged for leaving past the checkout time.
Tristan opened the phone. "I still haven't killed anyone or started worshiping Satan."
He could just picture the frown. "I don't appreciate your flippancy, you know."
Tristan strapped in the bag as he spoke. "Mom, geez. Why are you so insistent on this? What makes you think I'm going to become a horrible person just for missing a month's worth of church, huh?"
"Well, those three years of junior high where you were constantly in fights thanks to Joseph immediately come to mind."
"...." He sat down heavily on the bike. "...I don't--"
"I know you're not trying to lie to me, Tristan Michael Taylor."
He opted for the safe reply of silence, and a moment later his mother sighed. "I just don't want you to fall back into those habits, dear. You've got such a bright future before you--you need to be concentrating on important things, like studying for the SATs and getting good grades for your applications, not people who are going to hold you back."
He'd been raised to be polite to his parents, verbally if not mentally, so he gritted his teeth for a moment before replying.
"Joey's never held me back," Tristan said. "And don't worry, I'll live up to everything you and Dad expect. So can you give me a little credit, here?"
"Don't take that tone of voice with me," she said, but when he didn't reply she caved slightly. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself."
"Don't worry about that."
Another sigh, and then, "Goodbye."
"Bye." After a second's pause he snapped the phone shut, automatically ending the call, and glared forward.
A while later he blinked and focused again when Devlin waved a hand in front of his face. "We ready to go, or do you want to continue making the desk lady nervous?"
"Huh?"
"You're staring at the doors like you want to rip something's throat out. The woman's beginning to develop a tic."
"Oh. Sorry," he said shortly.
Devlin raised an eyebrow at that, but strapped in his bag without saying anything. As soon as he was on, Tristan pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the highway.
He wasn't sure what pissed him off more, the implication that anything about his personality that didn't match his parents' wants had to be the fault of Joey or someone else, or the fact that he'd wasted all of junior high trying to keep his fights secret. He could've just walked through the front door at night, instead of nearly breaking his neck climbing in the bedroom window.
Well, no. His dad couldn't know, since he would still be grounded. But the fact that his mom had still found out...he didn't like doing pointless things. Dammit.
He shouldn't have brought the cell phone. He should have accidentally left it on his bed or dresser or something, and split without anything to tie him back to Domino. Hadn't that been the whole damn point of leaving that place behind?
...Why did his stomach hurt?
He pulled himself out of his thoughts and realized that Devlin was clinging to him for dear life. What the hell...?
He blinked and checked the speedometer.
Huh. Yeah, that was a little fast.
Tristan let up on the gas and pressed down on the clutch, gradually slowing them to something resembling the speed limit. He glanced over to the left mirror, wondering if police sirens were going to start up any time soon. Wouldn't that be great to call home about....
Devlin turned his head slightly at the same time he had, and Tristan caught a glimpse of his face through the visor on the helmet.
He recognized the expression. It was the kind of angry that only came from trying to avoid sadness.
And again, what the hell?...oh.
It made sense. They'd started actually doing stuff last night, and now he was acting like a sociopath...Devlin probably figured that he was having second thoughts. Guess it was his turn to be the one that didn't think about how it would look.
At least he'd seen Devlin's face. Whether that was luck or God giving him a hand, he didn't know, but he said thanks anyway. Things might have been screwed up if he hadn't, and this was something he didn't feel like wrecking.
...Wait, he wasn't having second thoughts?
He checked. None. There were thoughts of what was going to happen when they got back to Domino, but that was a whole different set--and besides, Domino wasn't too high on his 'likes' list at the moment, so those thoughts could just rot until next week.
No second thoughts. Nice to get that cleared up.
He glanced at his watch, saw that there were a couple more hours until noon, and slowed down more until he hit the speed limit. Devlin loosened his grip on his waist a moment later.
It was nice to be able to breathe again, but he still missed the feeling.
When it was time for lunch, he found an IHOP and pulled into the lot, parking over in the corner where there weren't many other cars. When Devlin tool off his helmet and pushed his hair back from his face, he decided it was better to get things out of the way first.
"Hey, I'm sorry about that," Tristan said. "It doesn't have anything to do with you."
Devlin raised an eyebrow. "What made you think I thought it did?"
Tristan pointed at the mirror.
Devlin frowned a second, but he figured the guy'd caught on when his eyes widened slightly and the business of tying his hair into a ponytail again became all-consuming. He gave him the time. He knew how much people hated it when you saw past their fronts--he was friends with Joey Wheeler, for Chrissakes. He had some first-hand experience with how ugly it could get.
When Devlin had finally finished fixing his hair and looked up again, Tristan said, "I just...wanted to clear that up. It has nothing to do with last night."
Devlin nodded.
Tristan slid his hands in his pockets, fidgeting slightly. "So...are we cool?"
"If you are," Devlin said.
"Okay." Tristan paused, then started to walk to the restaurant, and Devlin fell in step beside him.
When he spotted the newspaper stand, he had an idea, so he hung back long enough to buy a copy. After he made his way into the building, Devlin was leaning against the counter with a slightly bored, impatient look on his face.
They got a booth and read the menus in a silence that wasn't entirely comfortable. Tristan started to flip through the paper as they waited, until he was interrupted by their order arriving.
"Um, this might sound strange," the waitress said as she put Devlin's plate down, "but has anyone ever told you you look like Duke Devlin?"
Devlin grinned at that. "Thank you. I'd hope that I would look like myself."
The waitress got a shocked expression. "You--you're the Duke Devlin?"
Devlin gave her a half-bow. "The one and only."
"Oh my God!" The waitress gave the table a frantic look, then grabbed Tristan's napkin and held it out. "Could I have your autograph? Please?" She fumbled and pulled a pen out of her apron.
Devlin took the pen with what Tristan was starting to think of as Charming Expression #3. "Sure. What's your name?"
"It's Tracy Miller," she replied. As Devlin started to write a note on the paper, she added, "I love your game! I'm constantly bugging my little brother to play it with me."
Devlin laughed and handed the paper and pen back to her. "I'm glad to have fans like you. Here you go."
"Thanks so much," Tracy said, folding the napkin like something precious and sliding it into her pocket.
"Oh, could we get a new napkin? Please?" Devlin said.
Tracy looked over at Tristan, who gave her a half-smile. "Oh, right! I'm sorry," she said. "I'll get you one right away."
"Thanks," he replied.
She turned around the corner, picked up another set of silverware, and handed it to Tristan before smiling at Devlin again. "Thanks again," she said.
"My pleasure."
Tracy hesitated a moment, before turning and heading back to the kitchen.
"That's the third time someone's stolen my napkin for your autograph," Tristan muttered as he unrolled the silverware.
Devlin smirked and raised an eyebrow. "People have taste," he said.
"Except for you?" Tristan asked innocently.
Devlin started to reply to that, then evidently couldn't think of anything and settled for a glare and attacking his seasoned red potatoes.
There were a few minutes of silence, and then Tristan spoke up. "Why'd you get named 'Duke,' anyway?" he asked, taking another bite of pancake. "It makes ya sound like someone from Happy Days."
Devlin shrugged. "I was apparently a very effeminate infant," he replied. "So my mom tried to reverse the problem by giving me the most butch name she could think of."
"Didn't work, did it?"
Devlin did an impressive job of covertly flipping him off with the hand holding his fork. Tristan just snickered and went back to flipping through the paper.
"Ha! Found it!"
"Found what?"
"The movie section," Tristan answered. "I thought we could just stay here tonight, and see a movie once we've found a motel."
Devlin raised an eyebrow. "Is there room in the budget? We haven't gone very far--there's two more states left."
"Yeah, I know, but I just don't feel like getting any closer to Domino today." Tristan shrugged. "Just...don't."
Devlin stopped lifting his fork. "That's it. It's Sunday." He gave Tristan a flat look. "Why don't you just go to church already, if you're getting hassled so much over it? It's not like it'll be hard to find one--we're in the damn Bible Belt."
"Because I don't want to," Tristan replied, just as flatly.
Devlin made an 'oy vey' expression at that, but just tossed a strand of hair over his shoulder. "What's the cause for the movie, then?" he asked as he took another bite of potato.
"I'm not sleeping with you until we've gone on a date."
He made a note to not be so blunt while Devlin was eating, because he didn't really remember how to perform the Heimlich maneuver.
"What?!"
"I said--"
"I heard you, I heard you," Devlin replied. "But, it...that's....Why? We've practically been living together for the past three weeks. Shouldn't that make for some kind of exemption?"
"Doesn't matter," Tristan said. "It's just not right."
"It's not...." Devlin put his fork down on the table and rubbed his forehead with one hand. "I don't think I know you at all," he said under his breath.
Tristan glanced at him over the paper. "Sorry?"
"It's not a bad thing," Devlin muttered. "Just frustrating sometimes." He looked up. "It's like, I thought I knew you, but now, out of Domino...you're someone else."
Devlin had a slightly strange expression on his face, so he was about to ask what that meant, but then Tracy returned to refill their drinks. After that, they started to fight over which movie to see, and there just didn't seem a time to ask anymore.
They found a decent enough motel after lunch, though it really easy to tell the differences between it and the Marriott from last night--the burned circuits odor coming from the air conditioner, for one.
He threw his bag on the bed next to the window, then reached in his pocket and turned off the cell phone before tossing it in the bag. Screw it all. If anyone wanted him, they could wait until he got around to checking the messages. Joey probably wouldn't get himself arrested or snap and kill his dad any time other than night, and Devlin was here, so that covered all the people he really cared about. If anything happened to Serenity, Yugi, Tea, or anyone else, he'd hear it from Joey.
Devlin killed a few hours watching television, while he finally remembered the book he'd thrown in the duffel and started trying to read it again.
When it was almost time to leave and he was washing his face, he glanced in the mirror and noticed Devlin pick the book up and check at the title.
"...." Devlin raised both eyebrows and got a slightly wide-eyed look. "Erotica Vampirica?! It's official. I clearly don't know a damn thing about you, Tristan."
He smirked slightly at Devlin's reflection, which was turning the book over. "It's not mine."
"Wheeler?"
Tristan laughed. "Right. Joey, willingly reading about vampires. The day that happens, I'll sell my bike and join corporate America." He grabbed a towel and rubbed the water out of his eyes. "It's Bakura's. He loaned it to me, but I never got a chance to give it back."
Devlin's eyes got a little wider. "Wait, Bakura? Bakura-Bakura? The one from our class?"
"Yup."
"It really is always the quiet ones." Devlin started flipping through the pages. "Hey, transvestites."
Tristan finished drying off his face and turned around, leaning against the counter with a grin. "You know how he loaned it to me? He brought it to school in a paper bag. Wouldn't let me open it in public--I had to wait 'til lunch and look in the bathroom. We're lucky that some teacher didn't notice and think it was drugs. I think he would've died if I'd had to pull it out in the classroom." The grin faded.
Devlin laughed quietly and shut the book, glancing at the cover again. "How did he even manage to buy it in the first place?"
Tristan shrugged. "Beats me. I bet he wore a disguise or something."
Devlin put the book back on the bed. "So, you've been carrying it around for the last few years?"
"Yeah," he answered, hanging the towel back up. "I figure I'll finish it eventually."
Devlin pursed his lips, holding back a smirk. "You haven't yet?"
Tristan gave another shrug. "I keep leaving it to do something else. Short stories aren't my thing, you know?"
"Huh," Devlin said. "I like short stories more than novels. It's like getting little glimpses into people's lives."
Tristan rolled his eyes. "Voyeur," he muttered.
Devlin gave him a wide grin. "No, no--I'm the exhibitionist."
Tristan tried to avoid it, but he laughed anyway.
After they arrived at the theater, another argument started when he said that he was paying.
"Because it was my idea!" Tristan retorted. "That means I'm supposed to pay!"
"Haven't you heard of going dutch?" Devlin replied in exasperation, jerking his hands to the sides. "It's perfectly acceptable these days!"
"Would you just act like a normal person and be happy you don't have to shell out any money for entertainment?" Tristan asked, before turning and walking towards the ticket counter.
Devlin followed a moment later, blatantly sulking. "I don't like someone else paying for me. I'm not the girl in this relationship, damn it."
"I'm not the one who wears makeup."
Devlin growled. Tristan cheerfully ignored him and glanced at the showings above the counter. "What? Pirates of the Caribbean is sold out! I wanted to see that."
"You and the rest of this town," the girl behind the counter said in a tired voice.
"Why don't we see The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, then?" Devlin suggested, his tone somehow managing to make the title sound incredibly dirty.
"I don't think so," Tristan bit off. Devlin mock-pouted in the faint reflection of the glass, but Tristan rolled his eyes and scanned the remaining titles skeptically. "...How 'bout two students for 28 Days Later?"
"Eleven dollars." Tristan handed her the money, she punched some buttons, and handed him two tickets a moment later. "Here you go, have-a-nice-day."
Once they were inside and in line for the snack counter, Devlin turned his head sideways and gave the booth an amused look. "Aren't they supposed to ask for ID?"
Tristan smirked. "Did you see her? She was a robot. I probably could have said I was a kid and she wouldn't have given a damn. Do you like popcorn with or without butter?"
"You're not buying the popcorn too!"
"Sure am."
There was a brief glaring match.
"...Fine," Devlin muttered a moment later. "But I'm paying for dinner tonight!"
Tristan grinned brightly. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Devlin furrowed his brow in confusion, then gave him a wide look. "You manipulative bastard...."
"Thank you." Tristan turned to the counter. "Large popcorn, butter."
"No butter," Devlin interjected.
Tristan made a face, but amended the statement. "No butter."
The guy behind the counter raised an eyebrow, but just said "Righto" and grabbed a bucket.
They had about fifteen minutes before even the previews started, since they'd arrived expecting a different time, so they lucked out and got some of the best seats in the middle. The theater was surprisingly empty, even for a five o'clock showing. He hoped the movie didn't suck.
"So, are you also going to follow the whole 'third date' rule, too?" Devlin asked.
"Huh?"
"You know," he explained, "the 'third date, either kiss or give the let's-just-be-friends talk' rule."
Tristan raised an eyebrow. "I think it's a little late for that one."
Devlin shrugged a shoulder. "I was just curious--especially since you're going by this rule."
Tristan made a flustered hand motion. "Look, it's just...something you do. It's not the right thing not to."
"Very convincing argument."
"Bite me."
"Ooo, even more convincing!" Devlin grinned.
Tristan glared, turned and shoved the bucket against Devlin's chest. "Here. Eat the weird, dry popcorn."
Devlin tilted his head slightly. "How can you want that disgusting yellow stuff on it?"
"It's not disgusting," Tristan argued. "The popcorn tastes stale without it."
"...so...you need it greased to keep it from being unpleasant?"
"Ye..." Tristan blinked, then buried his head in his hands. "Gah."
Devlin laughed. "You walked into that one."
"Do you have NO shame?!"
Devlin just flipped a piece of popcorn into his mouth and didn't reply. Or, to be precise, he didn't reply until later on during when the lights were off and the previews had started, and the brunette 'accidentally' dumped part of the bucket into his lap.
"Agh," Tristan muttered, starting to brush the stuff off onto the floor. "Thanks a lot."
"Sorry," Devlin said, voice totally devoid of guilt. "Hey, don't waste it. I'll clean it up."
"What do--" he was cut off by the fact that Devlin had suddenly stuck his hand in between his legs. "Yah! The fuck?"
Devlin smoothly popped a single piece of rescued popcorn in his mouth. "I though we had to go on a date before that. Or do we not have to sit through the whole movie?"
Tristan's hand twitched, and he tried to shift away as Devlin reached over and picked up another piece, deliberately brushing over his thigh again. "I can't believe you called me the manipulative bastard."
Devlin just smirked, so Tristan scooped the rest of the popcorn into a hand. When Devlin started to move again, he leaned and clapped it over Devlin's mouth, cramming the popcorn in.
Devlin made a half-choked noise and Tristan immediately moved his hand away, but after a moment of chewing later the other teen just started laughing. Tristan rolled his eyes and turned back to face the screen.
Devlin fell oddly silent once the movie started, but when Tristan looked over while the main character was wandering around the empty city, he didn't notice anything odd. Devlin was just sitting with one leg resting on the chair in front of him and one on the cushion of his seat.
He didn't catch on to the reason behind the other teen's unease until that night, when they arrived back at the motel after dinner and were about to go to bed.
Tristan shut off the water and threw his towel back onto the rack, then opened the door partly and turned off the light. He blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust.
"Hey, leave the light on," Devlin called quietly.
"What?" he asked, still trying to get his eyes to adjust before heading to his bed. "How'm I supposed to sleep?"
"You'll manage."
"Why?"
"I don't know, in case I wake up later tonight and don't want to go stumbling around to reach the bathroom," Devlin said. "Just because."
Tristan raised an eyebrow, even though he wasn't sure the other teen could see his face. "You're right next to the bathroom. There's nothing to stumble into but the wall, and I think the bed should take care of that. Why're ya suddenly scared of the dark?" he added, walking over to his side of the room.
Devlin didn't reply, and a moment later he figured it out.
"Oh shit," Tristan said, "don't tell me you don't like horror movies."
"Not a whole lot, no," Devlin muttered into the pillow.
"Why didn't you say something?"
"I wasn't paying attention. I was talking to you."
"Oh." Tristan sat down on his bed. "C'mon, there's nothing to be scared about with that thing. I mean, the whole basic premise was stupid! Infecting monkeys with rage so we can understand it better?"
"Do you think that, if I could convince my mind to listen to logic, I would be freaked out in the first place?" Devlin replied dryly.
Tristan snorted. "Point. But still...would leaving on the light really help? Remember how that only drew their attention?"
"Oh, thank you. Now I'm picturing zombies breaking through the window. Do me a favor, Taylor, don't be a counselor."
He grimaced slightly. Okay, so maybe that wasn't the most comforting thought to come up with...it was late, dammit. He wanted to sleep.
He glanced over at Devlin, who had the covers pulled up over his ears despite the fact that the air conditioning was lousy. Then he got an idea.
Tristan stood up. "Move over."
"Mruh?"
Tristan pulled down the blankets and pushed Devlin's shoulder. "Shove over, Dev. I'll sleep on the side closer to the window. That way, if The Infected bust in here, they'll kill me first, and you'll be so stricken by grief that you won't notice when they off you."
Devlin mumbled something composed of "not fucking 'Dev'," "hope they do," and "snarking egotist bastard," but he scooted over immediately.
Tristan threw the blankets towards the end of the bed, then draped the sheet over his waist and buried his face in the pillow. "Night."
Devlin shifted a little closer and laid his arm by Tristan's, just close enough to tell he was there. "...Night."