Title: Once Upon a Time
Pairing: Joey Wheeler/Seto Kaiba. Minor: Malik/Ryou, Otogi/Serenity
Rating: R, eventually
Summary: Joey is a punk with sticky fingers and a horrible report card. Seto Kaiba is the smartest kid in school, and the biggest prep. Once Joey is arrested one time too many, Kaiba is assigned to be his tutor. If Joey can't get his grades up, it's off the state juvenile penitentiary.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Seriously.
Author's Notes: I'm hoping to have this chapter go as follows: Malik stumbles upon Ryou, a pretty new foreign exchange student and lays on some heavy flirting. Just when he gets his new 'friend' to open up a little, Kaiba comes and gives Malik a reason to hate the CEO as much as Joey does. It's a clichéd battle in the making; the prep's want Ryou, but so do the punks. What does Ryou want? That I can't tell you, because this is a Joey/Seto story. Duh. Oh, and, British slang will be used. Ask me if you need to know what anything means.
::London calling to the faraway towns
Now that war is declared-and battle come down
London calling to the underworld
Come out of the cupboard, all you boys and girls
London calling, now don't look at us
All that phoney Beatlemania had bitten the dust
London calling, see we ain't go no swing
'Cept for the ring of that truncheon thing.
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is drowning-and I live by the river.
London calling to the imitation zoneForget it brother, an' go it alone
London calling upon the zombies of death
Quit holding out-and draw another breath
London calling-and I don't wanna shout
But when we were talking-I saw you nodding out
London calling, see we ain't go no highs
Except for that one with the yellowy eyes
Now Get this
London calling, yeah, I was there, too
An' you know what they saw? Well, some of it was true!
London calling at the top of the dial
After all this, won't you give me a smile?
I never felt so much a' like.::
Chapter three:
***London Calling***
Fifteen minutes before getting lost, Ryou was sure he knew where he was going. After all, upon his arrival in his new home, his father had insisted they look around the school.
Somehow, in the two days since his move, the loo (or, err, restrooms) and the art room had been switched around, and the cafeteria had replaced the gym. It was a very confusing experience for the British boy, who really just wanted to find the theatre class. Honestly.
"Where in the bloody hell is the auditorium?" Ryou didn't mind talking to himself; it was a perfectly normal thing to do back home.
Which reminded him he wasn't home. Which depressed him. Which led to a moment of self-pity, before he tired of the cause and effect atmosphere in the hallway. America did funny things to people, of that he was sure. Oh yes, of that he was sure.
It didn't really take long to find, and Ryou felt like a total fool when, upon his third rotation through the school, looked up and saw the 'AUDITORIUM' sign above the door, nearly touching the ceiling. Bloody well figured, anyway. Couldn't be normal, Ryou figured, and put the sign somewhere like oh, say, beside the door.
He had been ready to storm into the room, which was completely unlike him, but froze when his hand touched the door. What if the other children made fun of him? Of his snowy white hair and large brown eyes? Oh dear lord.
But what better way to prove his bravery than to just march into class and stun the rest of the students with his British intellect. Yeah, right. Ryou always got a C in drama, because he wasn't good at it, and he wasn't good in front of people.
Which was why at the last minute, he decided to tiptoe into the large area. And, to be quite frank, he was blown off his British ass by the boy singing on stage.
The albino boy had to squint to even make sure it was a boy at first. With longish golden hair, and a thin body (which showed off with a shirt that didn't come close to reaching his pants), and the most amazing voice Ryou had ever heard, it was no wonder Ryou could have mistaken him for a girl. After all, people mistook Ryou for a girl all of the time.
And that boy's voice! It was like an angel or something. And if Ryou wasn't mistaken—he had very good eyesight—the boy had lilac eyes.
If Ryou had to do a swooning scene any time in the near future, he had a feeling he could pull it off quite well. He could feel a blush creeping up his cheeks, as he stood in the center of the aisle watching the boy from nearly 50 feet away.
To the boy's left—stage-right? Ryou could never remember—was a blond girl wearing a leather miniskirt and an attractive pout. Her red silk blouse matched the red sunglasses on her face, and had Ryou been straight, he would have been gawking at her.
"The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is drowning-and I live by the river," sang the boy.
"Okay, Malik, good job," the teacher—Ryou assumed the middle-aged woman was the teacher—told the boy, who smiled and leapt off stage. He walked towards the front row of seats, singing in a mocking voice, "I'm better than Mai, I'm better than..."
Oh, drat. Lavender eyes met brown, and Malik froze. A huge grin spread across his face. "Hey teach, we got a new student!"
Ryou couldn't bring himself to like the boy as much when his announcement caused twenty-some pairs of eyes to focus on him. Blush was 100% back in residence on Ryou's pale cheeks. Double drat.
"H-hello, my name is Ryou...?"
The teacher clasped her hands together and smiled. She couldn't be older than fifty, as far as Ryou could tell, and looked to be a very sweet woman. "Hello, Ryou! I'm Mrs. O'Dell. Where are you from, sweetheart?"
Ryou walked forward, a gentle smile on his face. "London."
Malik grinned, enchanted already by the fey creature standing in a beam of light. "Hey, we're doing a play on London. I bet you'd be great as the lead role."
"I apologize...I'm not much for…" he waved his hands around vaguely and finished meekly, "theatrics." Ryou was very much embarrassed by the disappointed look on Malik's face. Closer now, he could see how tan he was. Exotic, really.
"Oh, that's alright dear. I've had more than a handful of students who came into my class shy, and made it to Broadway eventually," Mrs. O'Dell said sweetly.
Malik chuckled, and Ryou looked back to him. "That's what we like to call dramatization. So..." He stretched languidly, showing off even more skin, "you been shown around the school already?"
Oh, dear. If Ryou didn't know any better, he would think Malik was flirting with him. But that was preposterous!
"Err, yes," when Malik frowned he added, "but I managed to forget everything. Give me a tour?"
Malik shivered. That British accent was...tasty. And there was no harm in flirting with the boy, since he looked like he could be...Malik paused—into the blokes, was it? Excitedly, he turned to Mrs. O and so Ryou couldn't see him, mouthed, 'please!'
"Can I, Fran?"
The older woman winked at him and nodded. "Sure, just don't get lost in any closets."
Ryou blinked. Was she teasing? No matter, he though, as Malik whisked him right back out of the room he had spent so long finding. In his confused state, he still managed to drop his knapsack on the floor before following the exotic Malik.
And suddenly, he was back to square one, alone in the hallway. But this time, he was alone with an unbearably handsome boy. Oh, dear.
Malik was handling the situation a little bit better.
'Oh, shit. OH, SHIT!' He got an adrenaline rush just from looking at the guy. That hadn't happened since...ever! Sure, there had been flings and short relationships, but those feelings were nothing compared to the ones he got from Snow White over there.
They walked in silence for a while, Malik pointing out the most important spots (i.e. lunchroom, bathroom, janitorial closets). Ryou smiled throughout the tour, nodded politely and laughing at all the right times. Dear lord, the boy was perfect!
"And this," Malik said proudly, "Is the courtyard. It used to be a dump, with trash and shit everywhere, but me and Keith, the janitor, cleaned it all up!"
He had every reason to be proud. The grass was vibrant green, and the art club had painted the six picnic tables in the smallish area. The only downside was the two classrooms surrounding it; it was impossibly easy for teachers to spy on any activity. Both rooms were on either side of the door from the hallway, and the other side of the square courtyard was open space, leading out towards the football fields.
Ryou sucked in a breath. "It's not bad."
Well, that was a figurative slap to Malik's ego. "It's not bad? NOT BAD?"
"Did I say something wrong?"
Malik didn't know. "I don't know." He pouted. Damn their cultural barrier! He'd have to freshen up on his English when he got home; Isis had spent a summer in England once, so she could teach him. "Did you say something nice?"
"Well of course I did!" It couldn't be going worse. Malik had the pretty boy all alone, and they didn't even speak the same language. Literally!
"Oh, this isn't going well." Malik ran a hand through his hair in a pissed off motion. "Know what? I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Malik Ishtar, the most beautiful Egyptian in New York."
The first emotion Ryou comprehended was shock. "You...That's fascinating!"
Malik blushed, and then frowned. Really, why couldn't the courtyard be fascinating too? Then he realized Ryou was touching his jewelry. "I'm...just being arrogant, you know...my sister's prettier than me, and she lives here too."
Ryou laughed, a light melodic sound. "No, no...My father recently finished several digs in Egypt. I knew you weren't American, but Egyptian...you look nothing like the rest of the Egyptians!" It really was fascinating, such a beautiful creature, from such a sandy country. Malik must have shined like a jewel amongst the rest of his people.
"Yeah, my sister likes to rub that in my face. And hey, you don't exactly look British!"
Ryou looked affronted. He felt so too, and asked in unrestrained shock, "Why ever not? Do I...oh, bullocks, it's my hair, isn't it?" Self-pity nestled in his brain. "Oh, all of the children just loved making fun of it back home."
"But why?" Malik hmm-ed, and reached a bronzed hand out and pet Ryou on the head. "Your hair is so soft, and poofy."
Which was apparently the wrong thing to say. Enter culture barrier. An angry Ryou looked like a cherry, which led to inappropriate thoughts on Malik's part. Heh, heh.
"Wanker!"
Umm...THAT was unexpected, Malik thought. "That's a lie! I barely ever masturbate!"
Ryou looked at him in some sort of disturbed fascination. "Beg your pardon?"
"Okay." 'Count to ten and back again,' he told himself. It was a technique Isis used often when dealing with the antics of Malik and Joey. "I think we're having a cultural misunderstanding."
"I think you're having a cultural misunderstanding!" Ryou held up his hand, counting off on his fingers much like a child would. "First you don't accept my praise, then you call me a poof, and—"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I didn't call you a poof, I said you're hair is poofy." He pushed a stubborn finger into Ryou's soft hair. "You know, fluffy? I like it."
Oh, bullocks. "I always manage to embarrass myself somehow." Ryou motioned to his head. "So, you like my hair, then?" A shy smile adorned his lips when Malik nodded.
"We really gotta work around the whole culture barrier, man." With his natural flare, Malik eased into his most flirtatious pose. "So, you never—"
"Ryou. What a pleasant surprise."
Malik nearly jumped out of his skin. A new, uninvited person had arrived in his courtyard, and when he turned to see who it was, he wanted to scream. Seto Kaiba stood to the side, looking immaculate as ever in a fashionable business suit and smirking at Ryou.
Speaking of the shy British boy, he looked rather afraid. As Malik looked between them, he decided they were having a silent conversation. Kaiba stayed smug, and Ryou stayed afraid. It was that way for roughly two minutes.
"So, will you be attending Yugi Mouto's party this weekend?" Kaiba asked smoothly. His tone left no room for a no.
"Well, I had rather thought I'd—"
Kaiba cut in quickly. "We spoke about this yesterday, Ryou. Your father and I both feel it is in your best interest for you to..." his icy blue eyes fell on Malik, and he sneered, "...make the right friends."
"Whoa, I'm getting a Cruel Intentions vibe here," Malik said loudly.
Kaiba ignored him. "So, I'll see you at eight?"
"Err, well, I—" Ryou fumbled for words. Malik's heart went out to the poor guy. All British and alone, without a real friend...
So, it wouldn't hurt to help, now would it? "He'll be getting ready for me to pick him up."
Two pairs of eyes snapped to Malik. "…Yes. Ryou's spending the night with me, and we're going to a movie Friday night. It's going to be fantastic."
Kaiba frowned; a tight-lipped line that looked like it belonged on his face. "Well, I suppose I'll catch you on the way out of the poorhouse then, Ryou."
With that he turned and walked away, his leather duster swinging around his knees. He walked into the school, and when he disappeared from sight completely, Malik let out a large breath.
When he turned back to speak to the British teen, he was yet again breathless. Ryou was smiling at him, a brilliant, 100-watt smile. If a smile had ever belonged on a face, it was Ryou Bakura's.
"Look, you don't really have to come over this weekend. What he said about the poorhouse...I don't know if that's your scene."
Ryou was still smiling when he answered softly, "Well, I...is that the bell ringing?"
Malik swore. "Shit, I got to get home! I'll, uh, see you in drama tomorrow!" As he ran back to the doors, he called over his shoulder, "Don't forget, your book bag is still in the theatre!"
Ryou stood in the courtyard, listening to the calls of kids glad to be out of school, still smiling. Maybe America wasn't so bad.
************
Okay, third chapter done. I just wanted Malik and Ryou to become friends before all the shit hit the fan with Joey and Seto next chapter, because Joey's going to skip the session. Seto doesn't like being stood up.
Oooh, drama in the hizzouse!
I am but a metaphorical flower, and your reviews are the sunshine and water. I need plentiful amounts, gentle readers. Else I might wither up and die...click, sunshine gang, keep me from withering away!