FTEB growled (evilly, very evilly) and stretched in her evil chair. She glanced at the evil screen of her evil computer--an evil computer that had she had not touched for a month.

The evil computer was used only in season.

Now her evil fingers flew to the evil keyboard; it was time (evil time) to do something productive. Her evil mind was working, and the evil energy had to be channeled into something suitably evil. The evil mouse moved with evil accuracy across the evil screen, aimed, clicked. With an evil raise of an eyebrow, FTEB smirked evilly and began her evil hand of Solitaire.

No. No, this wasn't productive. Frowning, FTEB exited the evil game and opened an evil document. It was evil time to create.

To create what?

An evil flash of lightning struck, and FTEB grinned maniacally.

Something evil was coming this way.

The Evil Ultimate Fake Fanfic III: The Conclusion

by FTEB

Dee and Ryo were sitting in Ryo's living room with a bottle of wine.

No, I am not confusing this with The Evil Ultimate Fake Fanfic II, and yes, Ryo did let Dee come within a mile of him--after all the pictures of Dee came off the walls and into someplace where Ryo would never see them again.

They had poured the wine into glasses, and the conversation had now come to a standstill.

They didn't have anything to toast. Not that they ever do.

Finally, Ryo raised his glass. "To the pictures of you in my room coming down," he offered.

Dee grinned. "To the pictures of you in my room staying up."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

The two sipped their glasses with respective smiles. Actually, Ryo sipped his. Dee chugged his. Quickly, Ryo set down his glass and poured Dee another. "Drink up."

Dee shrugged, and drank this one as well. Seizing the moment when Dee looked away, Ryo expertly threw the contents of his glass into a potted plant.

Why?

It seemed Ryo was up to his old tricks again. Quick, get Dee drunk and make him pass out!

Ryo's mind works in complicated little ways.

In fact, there is much more to Ryo than meets the eye.

Although, as he leaned forward seductively in a pair of tight jeans and a flimsy, unbuttoned shirt, quite a bit met the eye.

C'mon, don't be so surprised. We all know Ryo's not at all as innocent as he makes out to be. Always walking around in those little blouses of his, and constantly flirting with everyone in sight. Let's not forget the balcony scene (Matoh Sanami's, not Shakespeare's). Shirt unbuttoned, head tilted back, hand over forehead, wistful look in the eyes. The man's a master. He should teach classes. And then he seems the victim. Sure.

"So, Ryo," Dee began, slightly tipsy.

Alcohol is bad. Don't drink and drive.

'Course, Dee's not driving, is he?

Although he's going to have to ride home sometime (unless he gets really lucky.)

I mean, we're talking about a show about police men who each have cell phones, laptops, and cars in New York Stinkin' City. What do they do, drive to the traffic jams and back?

Oh, well. I'll buy it.

"Isn't the weather nice today?" Dee continued.

All right, all right, so he had nothing better to say.

Enough chit-chat, Dee decided. Swiftly, he launched himself across the sofa and threw himself at Ryo, bearing him over onto the floor.

Same old, same old.

Same old enough, actually, that Ryo was fully prepared. He isn't stupid, after all. Everybody learns sometime. The floor had been lined around the sofa with soft, plush pillows, a reading light, and a small collection of books. There were also breathmints and chapstick.

I told you he isn't stupid.

"You wanted to talk, Dee?" Ryo inquired casually.

After a while, the novelty of being flung unto a floor decreases.

And no, Dee didn't want to talk. nudgenudge Therefore, Dee ignored the question and proceeded to not talk. nudgenudge

Ryo, however, was slightly miffed about his get-Dee-drunk plan not working (of course, maybe it was) and so did not want to not talk, and tried desperately to get Dee off of him. He grabbed the fabric of Dee's shirt and pulled with all of his strength.

No, that's not all that desperate. Sorry.

As it happens, that didn't get Dee off of him. That only accomplished ripping Dee's shirt off, which was quite anti-productive.

Ryo isn't stupid, but he's no genius, either.

Unless this was what he was going for all along, which is quite possible, considering. . .

Really, everyone thinks Ryo to be some kind of woe-begotten tragic hero who must put up with the lemons (bad pun) life throws his way. But this is hardly the case. Remember: Ryo always gets what he wants. He always gets the nice cup of coffee and quality bonding time (and make-out time) with Dee. Dee, on the other hand, never gets what he wants (which is the only thing that keeps Fake within the PG-13 limits). And then, because Ryo is rarely the initiator, he still gets to act straight and hit on girls whenever he wants.

Which is, admittedly, never, but that's his problem!

Finally, Ryo got his mouth free (let's not go into how or why). "Stop," he told Dee.

Dee didn't listen.

"Please stop."

Still didn't listen.

"Stop now!"

Nope.

Then Ryo whipped out a bazooka from under the pillows and aimed it at Dee's face. "Stop."

Told you he was prepared.

"Fine, fine," Dee mumbled. Geez. The things he had to put up with. He frowned and leaned back towards the sofa. He loved Ryo, but the man was a shameless tease.

Too true. You have to admit, Ryo's something of a tramp. What a gigolo. Back in reference to England (so many memories. . .), wow, did his thought process ever make sense! He takes his vacation time with Dee, goes to a "secluded, little romantic" hotel with him, and makes out with him on the infamous balcony, but he doesn't know how he feels about him. None of this means he likes him; he does this with guys all the time.

Now, you could argue that he was trying to sort out his feelings with this trip. But, in that case, next you'll be telling me that you don't know how you feel about your best friend, and you think marrying him might help you decide.

And if you've already gone and done that, congrats!

And then, to ice out the cake, in the face of his promiscuous behavior, we are told that Ryo is a virgin.

Right.

This is New York City. There are no twenty-seven (give or take a few) year-old virgins in New York City. That's really pushing it too far.

And besides. Have you ever seen Ryo? He must have to beat them off with a nightstick.

And so, having seen Ryo and being fully aware of all of its implications, a frustrated Dee grumbled and lit a cigarette. Stupid, shameless Ryo. If he had known that this was the way Ryo really was when he first met him, he would have tucked his heart a bit higher into his sleeve.

That thought brought a totally unrelated memory of Dee and Ryo's first meeting.

"Are you Oriental? You have dark eyes."

Technically, these are hardly linked. But all of Dee's Oriental friends have dark eyes, and only a significant percent of his non-Oriental friends have dark eyes, and so, using the magnificent law of probability, Dee reached his brilliant conclusion.

"Um, yeah. . . I'm half-Japanese."

"Do you have a Japanese name, too, then?"

"It's Ryo."

"Do you absolutely, positively hate being called Ryo more than anything else in the entire world?"

"Well, I. . .uh. . .I wouldn't say that, but. . ."

"Ryo it is, then. I'll call you Ryo."

Man. You know, if I met someone named 'Randy,' even if he didn't look remotely Oriental, I'd still ask if he had a Japanese name.

And poor Ryo. Now the name sticks, and although he doesn't absolutely, positively hate it more than anything else in the entire world, he didn't seem too thrilled when the fad of calling him Ryo started.

Still, that's not the world's biggest problem. Even Dee had more personal problems as he kept mumbling angrily to himself. Reclining backwards, he suddenly bumped his head on the sofa arm. "Ow!" he exclaimed.

Suddenly, Ryo leapt to Dee and kissed him.

Stunned, but not for long, Dee threw his cigarette away and returned the kiss.

Unfortunately, the cigarette landed in the plant recently watered with alcohol, and the entire pot burst into flames. Quickly, Ryo leapt from Dee, brought out a fire extinguisher from the kitchen, and put out the fire. He sighed in relief, and then grimaced. The moment had been ruined.

However, Dee had very cleverly caught on to the trend.

And it was a useful little trend, too. Has anyone noticed that whenever Dee is hurt, Ryo flings himself into his arms and proceeds to make out with him while Dee bleeds to death?

Not very responsible, if you ask me.

But now that Dee had unearthed the secret of the universe (almost), he was not hesitant to put it to good use. "Ouch!" he complained. "I scratched my ankle!"

Immediately, Ryo was back on Dee and was continuing their previous activity.

"Man!" Dee elaborated. "I jammed my finger!"

Ryo pulled Dee's shirt the rest of the way off, and began working on his own.

"Argh!" Dee cried. "My back is killing me!"

Ryo stood up, pulled Dee into his unlit bedroom, and slammed the door closed.

You know what happened next.

Bicky and Cal walked in! And not into the apartment; they entered straight into the bedroom (they're magic). Cal flicked on the lights and flopped down onto the bed, while Bicky snarled and kicked Dee in the face.

At this point, Ryo was about to jump Dee again, but Bicky began chasing or being chased by Dee (it's hard to tell) about the room and spoiled all his chances of landing.

"Bicky!" he yelled. "What are you doing?!"

The boy ignored his question, but did stop running around and joined Cal on the bed.

"Argh!" Dee cried, and meant it this time. "Bicky! Why can't you ever mind your own business!"

"I'll never mind my own business," Bicky retorted. "I'll always interfere! You're not getting anywhere with Ryo while Cal and I are around to help it!"

Those kids are way too involved in Ryo's love-life.

"Why you!" Dee continued. "Go to the bathroom and pee instead, you annoying kid!"

And everyone else is way too interested in Bicky's toilette activities.

No one has a life.

"Are you guys hungry?" Ryo (a.k.a. Martha Stewart) asked. "Why don't you go to Bicky's room, and I'll make you a salad?"

Bicky and Cal agreed and retreated.

"You know," Dee remarked when they were gone. "I've never seen you like tonight."

"Thanks. The blouse is new."

Dee paused. "Um. What I meant was, I hadn't ever thought you were really interested in me. . .in that way. . ."

Ryo blushed, and started to deny it, but then he stopped. This was no time for lies and cover-ups.

True, it wasn't different from any other time, but do you mind?

"Well, you see, Dee. . ." he began carefully. "The truth is. . ." He felt as though he were on the brink of a great height, looking down into the chilling depths, but he found no fear in falling. Instead, he took a breath and jumped.

And then he took a breath and continued, since jumping really didn't do him much good, did it?

"It's hard to say this, Dee. I never thought I would. I-I've loved you for a long time. I could never admit it, but I love you."

Dee looked at him in hopeful surprise. "What. . .?"

Ryo flushed under Dee's incredulous gaze and felt the familiar fear pulling at his mind, felt his mouth twitch with the instinct to recall his words. But for once, he was adamant in his decision. Ryo forced his lips to move, to say the words that had been whispering in his heart for so long. "Since before I saw you, I have loved you. Before I knew what love was, I have loved you. Before love existed, I have loved you, and my love grows with every passing day, with every breath I take. In my every thought, in my every dream, in my every hope, you are there. I suffocate without you. I die without you. I need you. I want you. I cannot bear another moment without you; I cannot imagine a life without you in it. I love you, Dee."

Dee sat unmoving, plunged into a state of shock. Suddenly, he pulled Ryo into his arms and kissed him passionately. Ryo let Dee lower him onto the bed, numb with his own brand of astonishment. As Dee's lips moved down to his neck, he felt a salty wetness on his lips. It startled him to realize it was tears. Or sweat.

Dee embraced Ryo tightly and nestled his face into his shoulder. "I love you too, Ryo. I've always loved you. I knew the moment we met that I lived only for you. My entire life, I've been waiting for you, and I would wait for a hundred more lifetimes. I would damn the world and send the world to hell if that's what it took. I would die a thousand deaths, if one of them could be in your arms. I love you. More than anything else, I want you to know that."

Ryo smiled happily and blinked away the tears that stung at his eyes. "Thank you, Dee. That's what I'd been waiting for. I've never been sure. . ."

Actually, we know that he had really been waiting for Dee to get some good injuries, but it's a white lie.

Carefully, Ryo brought up Dee's face and kissed him softly.

"Ryo, where's that salad?!"

"Coming!" Ryo shrugged apologetically and headed for the kitchen.

"Wait, Ryo," Dee said. "I'll help. From tonight onward, I'll do everything with you."

"Thank you, Dee. . ."

Supporting each other, Dee and Ryo walked through the threshold.

"But you do the onions."

"What? That's not fair! Hey! Hey! Get back here!"

It was going to be a long night.

An evil chapter in an evil series. How fitting.

In other notes, FTEB has discovered a wonderful creation called Advil, and will not be continuing the saga. She thanks you for your time and hopes you have enjoyed the trilogy. Because FTEB has been demoted from a PMSing female teenage evil being to simply a female teenage evil being, she will be able to satisfy her evil urges simply by capturing human males and forcing them to watch hours of yaoi and shonen-ai anime.

There's her first victim now.

And so, thank you and good bye.