This is no where near finished, cuz I am desperately trying to get Rowen and Cye's accents down. Of course, the first fic I decided to redo with the proper accents the two main characters are Rowen and Cye. Oi I think I'm gonna get Rowen's good and then move on to fixing Cye's, so if Cye doesn't sound too British yet, don't worry, I'm getting around to it. Well, anyways, I would love feedback, as always, but especially with the accents, because that will really help me with my other fics. As a warning, there are someslashy moments, swearing, mentioning of some sadistic activitites, and some bad spirits (unfortunately not the alcohol spirits but the soul spirits). As usual, this takes place after the TV but before the OAVs.

"There's nothing worth the wear of winning,
But laughter and loves of friends."
----Hilaire Belloc

Cye wasn't feeling good. Somewhere in the back of his throat there was a lump forming, hardening with each step the blue haired boy took closer to him.

"Anythin' I wanted, rememba Cye?" The look in his eyes--pure evil if Cye had ever seen it before--was quite frightening and the Brit did his best not to shutter. He was sure he wouldn't mind what the boy had in store for him if Rowen didn't look so… smug? Power happy? A manic let loose from an insane asylum? The only word that was able to fit Rowen's manic look completely was sadistic.

Cye mumbled something about breaking promises, and took a step backward, leaning tightly up against the wall. He should just accept fate; after all it was his idea for that blasted bet. He should take his punishment like a champ. Chimp. Chump. Or just plain sore loser. All the names would work right now.

The other boy licked his lips, a smile starting to form mirroring the wickedness in his eyes. "This won't take long. And I promise not ta hurt ya too much."

Cye gulped, sent out a quick prayer that he would be able to still walk in the morning, and let Rowen take him by the hand. Perhaps he should ask if he could have a last meal. But it was too late.

(A few hours earlier)

"Wait--? What happened at school today?" Ryo questioned, his eyes darting back and forth between Kento and Rowen. The first boy was gloating and the second one was fluming.

"Ok. It was gym time—"

"—Do ya hafta ta tell him again? If he didn't get it the first time—" Rowen mumbled, but Kento waved him off with a hand.

"—and we were playing baseball. So, I was at bat—" Rowen took this time, before Kento got to the embarrassing part, to leave. Walking quickly into the kitchen, he heard the snorts of his two friends as Kento squeezed out the last part of Rowen getting smacked on the head by a high fly to left field. If only that was the worse part…

"'Allo, mate." Cye said sweetly, looking up from his homework that was sprawled out on the kitchen table. Rowen mumbled something back that sounded like hi. "Oh, what's wrong?"

Rowen sighed deeply, mounting a nearby chair backwards and leaning his head on the backrest. "I got hit on the head by a basebah today."

"Oh? Are you olright?" Cye put down his pencil, a look of concern coming over his face.

"No. Getting' hit wasn't a problem, but it was what happened aftawards that was awful."

"Hmm?"

"I blacked out and supposedly mumbled some embarrassin' things."

"Such as?" Cye was having a hard time suppressing a smile, no matter how serious this all was to Rowen. Luckily the blue haired boy was staring at the table, and not looking at his friend at all.

"Some stuff about Sage." Rowen mumbled, his face becoming flushed with a particular bright shade of crimson.

Cye giggled softly. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"The whole class had gathad around me ta make sure I was ok. And just as Kento was liftin' my head ta elevate me, they said I said 'Don't touch me there Sage, I just want ta sleep tonight.'" Rowen hung his head in shame and Cye quickly pressed a hand to his lips. The edges of his mouth twitched in eagerness to laugh, but he tried to quash it. Not realizing his friend's struggle, Rowen continued, adding more fuel to the fire. It was usual for the boys to trust a lot of their darker secrets with Cye. Not only did the Brit usually not pass judgement but was good at keeping secrets too. Key word in that past phrase: usually. "I nevah even said that ta Sage. Ah, I mean, it nevah came up since Sage and I have nevah been in that sort of situation—" Perhaps Rowen would have continued digging himself a bigger hole to lie down in if Cye hadn't interrupted him in one explosive snort.

"Oh, mate, I'm sorry, but that's a funny—" Cye stopped.

He was getting the death look from Rowen.

Now, most people seem to think of Rowen as nothing more than an idle ooze of flesh, intend on finding sugary things, places to sleep, and things to read. While this was generally true, there was a streak to Rowen not many knew of. This is because the few who have witnessed this explosive anger have yet to be able to relive the event without a mental breakdown ensuing. So when Cye saw The Look and had an inkling he had stepped over a few boundaries (heck, he destroyed them), he tried to calm down.

"Well, we all have our bad days and such. Don't worry bout it."

"The whole school thinks Sage touches me in places I don't want him ta while I sleep." Rowen hissed through clenched teeth.

"Does he actually touch you in places you want him to?"

While that was supposed to be a joke, it wasn't taken as one. There was a loudwhelp as a blue blur jumped over the table landing on the Brit. His weight made the chair snap backward causing Cye's legs to smack into and tip over the table. Completely in shock, and now with a throbbing headache from his head hitting the tile, Cye wasn't able to react quick enough to stop Rowen from sitting squarely on his chest, each hand pinning down a shoulder.

"What was that wankah?" Rowen snapped, his eyes tinted with an evil that Cye would come to know well in the next few hours.

"Wanka? You have been around me too much."

"Well that won't be a problem in a few minutes cuz there won't be anythin' left of ya ta be 'around' with."

Cye gulped faintly, and tried to meekly smile. "Hey, Rowen, buddy. Come on, let's just forget this whole mess and I swear I won't mention Sage and yer no-no spots ever again."

"Oh!" Rowen gasped out and did what any ashamed man would do. He played dirty.

His fingers wiggled up Cye's red tee shirt, along the side of his body, finding those two spots that still held some baby fat and his ultimate ticklish spots.

"Oh, gawd!" Cye squealed, squirming under the boy's weight and quite expertise fingers. Unable to squeeze out from under him, and in no condition to try and fight him off now that he was gasping for breath, Cye started wheezing out phases while trying to swat away the fingers. "Oh, is this-ack!-what you do to Sage to get him in the mood? Or do you-hehehehe!-use those fingers for something else? Do you let him-ouch!-call you Ro-chan or is he-hahaha!-Sag-chan?"

"Quiet ya ass-fuckin'-hole!" Rowen hissed back, now more determined then ever to get the Brit to piss his pants in laughter.

"Arse-fookin'-'ole!" Cye squealed, now causing more pain to his tender sides.

"That's it, Brit! I'm gonna make you piss ya pants!"

"Oh, really?" Both paused briefly in their activities, Rowen's fingers still gently laying on the soft pink flesh and Cye panting back for his breath.

"Yeah. Ya gonna piss like Niagara Falls."

"Real original there Rowen."

"Like a fuckin' race horse."

"For a kid with an IQ of 250, ya got some shite metaphors."

Rowen growled, all thoughts of the baseball hit and particular comments about Sage out of his mind. "I'm gonna make ya piss like a French whore with the clap that can't keep hah legs closed because she's either got hah next customah there or is poppin' out anothah child!"

"Oh, that's betta. But I bet I can think up a betta one."

Rowen paused for a second before agreeing to this idea. Maybe his luck was changing… "Olright. What we'll do is find one of the guys, and we'll each think up a couple and see who has the bettah ones."

"And the winna gets…?"

Those eyes again. Devilish works were being created behind those eyes. "Whatevah the winnah wants."

Cye should have wished his soul to Hell right then and there and save everybody the trouble. But instead he agreed. "We have to find someone neutral tho." Neither boy also seemed to notice that even thought there was no more tickling, Rowen was still straddling Cye's hips and his fingers were still circling his side. But perhaps this situation had been seen and decided to be in favor of the seer so much that they decided not to ask the other to move. All hypothetical, of course. (wink wink Riiiiiiight.)

"Neutral?"

"Well ya know Sage will take yer side." There was a slight snicker from the bottom boy but it was quashed when the one on top's eyes started to narrow.

"Well Kento will take ya's, cuz ya could promise not ta feed him anymore."

"Then I guess that leaves Ryo."

As fate would have it, Ryo picked that time to get a hungering for some food. He should have just gone out in the backyard and boil some pine needles. It would have been easier all around.

"Um…? Am I interrupting something?" Ryo whispered, eyes nervously glancing over his teammates.

"Oh, no, Ryo, perfect timin'. Come here." Cye squealed. Instead of obeying his friend, Ryo took a step back. "We won't hurt ya; we need a judge for a contest. Rowen thinks he can out wit me with metaphors."

"Oh, I definitely interrupted something." Ryo mumbled to himself. Out loud, he questioned, "Why metaphors?"

"Cuz Rowen's were miserable. And I bet him I could make up some betta ones."

Ryo paused, an eyebrow raised. "So Rowen gets hit by a baseball ball in the head that pissed him off, decides to pin you down on the ground with, might I add, his hands pretty far up your shirt, in a position that isn't proper etiquette, and this leads to metaphors? Not the bedroom or anything, but metaphors?"

"Proper etiquette?" The Briton question, looking back and forth between the two boys.

"Yeah. You two might be the same height, but Cye's older. He should be on top."

Rowen grinned. "We have plenty of time for that latah. Right now competition. I want ta kick Cye's ass."

"My arse--!" Cye started, the seme comment of Ryo's completely lost to him.

"Why don't you do something more…" Ryo was lost for words. "Manly? Metaphors are really the saddest excuse I've heard for a competition."

"Well, what else could we do?" Cye mumbled.

"Beer pong." Rowen squealed, eyes lightening up, and jumping up to his feet. Cye gulped. Rowen and Kento had spent one night a long time ago perfecting their throwing skills that now whenever the five played (though Sage usually sat on the side lines, sipping a girly drink) they kicked everybody's ass.

"That would be manlier." Ryo agreed a smile on his lips. It was always fun to squeeze Cye between a rock and a hard place. Among other things, of course.

Well, it was decided, whether or not Cye had agreed. Rowen was quickly busying himself getting the room ready, righting the table, and straightening the chairs. Ryo disappeared for a second, returning with the plastic cups and ping pong ball. Cye realized right now his life was in Rowen's hands. Not only had he known he wasn't going to win, he knew he was going to fail miserably. Maybe sipping some good Guinness or throwing back some shots of rum was his forte, but beer pong was not. He would just have to get plastered enough that whatever Rowen had in mind wasn't going to hurt. He slowly stood up, and rubbing the back of his head lightly. The throbbing had gone down, but he was sure it was going to be pounding tomorrow. That should be fun, a hangover from Hell, the left over pain of a concussion, and whatever body damage Rowen would do to him later.

Ryo produced a chalk board from somewhere, writing down Fishy on one side and Stars on the other. "Hey!" Rowen cried, "I ain't no star."

"He could write down Nimbus instead." Cye mumbled, causing Rowen to growl.

"Alright, that's enough outta you Kitchen bitch."

"Oh, shut up Aunty."

"What was that, fucking gender bender?"

There was a brief second that Cye flashed to a certain metal robot in a pink tutu but he quickly shook the image out to keep up with Rowen. "Oh, that was just low, ya damn dog bullock!"

"Did you just call me a testicle! A dog ball!" Rowen cried in a voice more of a statement then a question.

"Damn straight ya double bagger."

"Huh?" Ryo interjected.

"So damn ugly needs two paper bags to cover himself up to be doable." Cye mumbled, but there was a faint smile on his lips.

"I think Cye would have won the metaphors." Ryo mumbled.

"Whose side are you on?" Rowen squealed, hands throw up in frustration.

"Whoever will bang me tonight." The ebony hair boy grinned.

"The boy's on me side then." Cye gloated.

"Ok, ok, before you two start something, beer pong time." He gestured toward the table, where the cups were set up and the beer poured.

Now, I'm sure everybody knows how to play beer pong. Or at least the general idea that someone else's ball (er, ping pong ball that is) landing in your cup is not good. It would then require you to drink said cup which is full of beer. So, when the first game was over, and Cye, the loser, was having a hard time standing, he realized his soul wasn't in Hell. Oh no, his soul was in Rowen's hands which was much much more dangerous.

They played five games, Cye desperately trying to win one but only succeeding in getting a cup or two. By the end the score was Stars 5 Fishy 0 and Cye was lying on the ground. Ryo had long left them since the liquor he had consumed was causing a stir of feelings and he had urges he wanted to go fulfill.

"Come on boy, whatevah the winnah wants. Ya ready ta admit defeat?"

Cye waved his hand in the air in an attempt to swat Rowen away. But the blue haired boy was soon kneeling next to the Brit, hands slipping under his shoulder blades and knees. "Hmmm, I guess I have ta brin' my prize ta my room." With a grunt, he lifted the boy upwards, pulling the body close to his chest. "My, lay off the darn biscuits next time ya eat. Ya feel like a hippo."

"And you look like one." Cye hiccupped back, his mind somewhere floating around the sink and in no state to think up come backs.

"I think I like ya in this state, Cye. You're so damn righteous sometimes, I'm sure it will feel good ta defile ya."

"Sadistic sonofabitch." Cye slurred out, vaguely aware they were climbing up the stairs to the bedrooms.

"Oh no, that would be Sage. Whips, chains, handcuffs, feather ticklers, nipple clamps. The boy has everything."

"And I'm sure you enjoy every minute of the torture."

"We don't share a room cuz I enjoy his company." Rowen smirked back. "I'm sure ya'll like it when you try it."

"So you and Sage are closet lovas?"

"No, not closet lovahs, we haven't tried it there yet." The beer was not only making Cye's head swim, but making Rowen's lips looser. "But, we have tried just about every othah room…" he trailed off, laughing at the wrinkled nose Cye was giving him.

"It's always the brilliant ones, isn't it?" Cye spat out the word 'brilliant' in a usual British effort to give distain to the word.

"Hmmm…" Rowen moaned softly, running his lips up Cye's neck. "I would like ta think it's the innocent ones. I believe once ya get your hands around a whip, ya would quite enjoy yaself." Rowen paused in the hallway, leaning up against the wall, drawing his lips to the small spot right behind Cye's ear. "Pleasure is sweetest when 'tis paid for by another's pain." He recited hoarsely, letting his hot breath blow lightly on the flesh. Cye shuttered slightly, more from the breeze behind his ear than the words it brought. He actually didn't really hear them, just something about pain for pleasure. Not quite his cup of tea, but that didn't matter.

Somehow the mix of boys made it into the room, ending with Rowen unceremoniously letting Cye's feet drop from his grasp, righting the boy immediately. Cye staggered away, his hands gripping onto the nearby edge of bed.

"Oh, is my boy tryin' ta get away from me?" Rowen's hand grazed Cye's arse.

"Can't we play chess?" Cye whispered, a conflict brewing in his heart. Honesty, if what Rowen wanted was sex; there wasn't much of a problem with that. There shouldn't a problem with that. But somehow whips, chains, and (shudder) nipple champs should never be part of the equation. His stomach was queasy. He could feel the butterflies swimming around, some taking nose dives right into the putrid liquid in an effort to try and end the sickening life they had. In short, Cye wasn't feeling good.

"Anythin' I wanted, rememba Cye?" Why did he keep repeating that? To justify it to himself or to Cye for the absolute painfulest moment in his tender life that was going to ensue soon?

The other boy just licked his lips, a smile starting to form, mirroring the wickedness in his eyes. "This won't take long. And I promise not ta hurt ya too much."

Well, hopefully I'll be able to walk 'marrow. Please Gawd, just let me be able to walk 'marrow. Rowen grasped a wrist, yanking Cye forward. "Just be glad we are in ya room and not mine."

While this isn't quite done, I am not sure if I'm gonna have a nice sex scene here or if its gonna be something more innocent, like Cye waking up the next morning glad he can still walk. Or maybe not walk. So while I ponder the ending of this, write me a review. (: