Her Sweetness: Hey, sorry I'm late! Here ya go!
—Hot Man, Hot Dog—
Part Three: The Sweetest Thing
Cars rolled by on this warm, summer day, through the streets of the West side. Bugs made annoying sounds in the trees right above the heads of the people who were standing in front of The Test Tickle. They had been there for only about two minutes, since Tristan and Joey had pulled up but now it seemed that the cars that were once zooming along now slowed, captivated by the spectacle that was unfolding on the sidewalk.
Joey was shouting at James now, having already put Hot Dog in Tristan's hand despite the protests he received, "Is this where Hot Dog was for the whole night?"
"Aw, c'mon, kid! What the heck could've happened, huh?"
"Hello? Didn't you think that some pervert could've come along and ra—"
"Alright, don't go any further!" Tristan interjected before the unspeakable could be spoken, "This is getting ridiculous, lower your voice before people start talking!"
Joey twisted his mouth, glaring at Tristan for a second before sighing and turning around to his friend who help his object of affection in his hand, "Well, I didn't come here to argue anyway. Hot Dog, are you ready to go?"
"…"
"Great! Hey, Tristan, came here for a sec…" Joey whispered in his buddy's ear, "I'm broke, so you don't mind paying for lunch and a movie, do you?"
"… I am not spending my money on a hotdog!"
"C'mon, do it for me!"
"Joey Wheeler, if you do not eat this hotdog, I will commit you!"
His eyes bugged out of his head as he turned cherry red all over, "T-Tristan! God, why do you have to be so obscene, huh?"
"Just what are you talking about now?"
"You're just a sick person. Which is why you don't disserve all the cool things you have." Immediately, Joey grinned and snatched Tristan's wallet from out of his back pocket, putting it in his own pocket. Before Tristan could react, Joey had snatched Hot Dog out of his hand and walked up to his motorcycle, "Hey, Tristan, your bike ain't big enough for the three of us."
"… What do you mean? It's two people, we rode here like that."
"Ahem." Joey jiggle the weiner in his hand, "I think you're forgetting someone, Tristan. Jeez, you're so rude. I'm sorry, Hot Dog; he can be a real jerk sometimes."
"…"
"You've got such a big heart."
Tristan gripped his hair and shouted, "He's losing his mind!"
James, who had been standing propped up against a tree until now, shrugged, "Hey, if it's that big a deal, you guys can take my car. I mean, I don't really need it, I can walk to my guitar lesson, you know."
"Really? Hey, James, you rock!" Joey shouted, being tossed the keys to the BMW and hopped right in. Tristan groaned when he was summoned and thought, mournfully, that he should've stayed home today.
At the Kame Game Shop, back on the East Side, two teenage boys had been imposed upon about fifteen minutes ago when Tristan had dropped be and given then Otogi, mumbled something about hotdogs and Jeoy and then sped off on his motorcycle in a hurry.
Yugi, of course, being the sweet boy he is, didn't turn Otogi away as he was his friend, but having him over was always a bit of a hassle. He would complain about everything and make weird comments that Yugi didn't really get.
He was currently on the couch in their living room with a washcloth and scrubbing the blueberry juice off of Otogi's skin. Otogi had thrown his clothes off as soon as he had entered because he said he needed the washed immediately and was now dressed in only a sheer, light blue night robe that hung loosely around his arms and waist.
"So, Otogi, what happened to you?"
"Oh, it was just terrible! Yugi, there were blueberries everywhere and… and they all attacked me…! Little, ol' me, oh the pain!" He wailed while Yugi scrubbed his arm. "Picture it! There I was, in my 'Kiss My Rolling Pin' apron in my own kitchen and out of no where, a blueberry jumps out of the cup and hits me in the eye! Before I knew it, the all started to rebel!"
"Ya don't say…"
"And that Tristan…!" He sat back up, scowling, "He didn't help me at all! Him and his stupid magazines and his stupid Joey! I mean, really! Joey! Ha! Yugi, tell me right away, who's more important, me or Joey?"
"The boy sighed, "Otogi, I can't—"
"Yug-eeeeeeeee!" He squealed.
"A-Alright! You are, Otogi, you're more important! Jeez!"
"Oh, Yugi, you're just the sweetest thing…" Otogi grinned happily and pulled Yugi into a tight embrace, snuggling his hair, "From now on, I'll only make pancakes for you…"
Yugi managed to wiggle away, "No thanks, I'm… I'm not really a fan of pancakes…"
Before Otogi had a chance to say anything, footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Both teens turned to see Yami coming down the stairs with a rather perturbed look on his face. He sighed, "Your clothes are washing, Otogi…"
"Did you put my shirt in cold water?"
"Yes, Otogi."
"Did you wash my underwear by hand?"
"Yes, Otogi."
"Did you make sure to use Xtra?"
"Yes, Otogi!"
He smiled and reclined back, sticking out his blueberry stained leg for Yugi to clean, "You're so sweet, remind me to thank you later. I would do it now, but I've been viciously attacked and that idiot Tristan abandoned me!"
"I wonder why…" Yami rolled his eyes, but Otogi either didn't notice or didn't care.
Yugi was inwardly gagging as he was silently forced to wash Otogi's shaved legs. It was only halfway up the first one when Yugi looked around and realized that Otogi didn't have any berry juice on his legs. He shot the raven-haired boy a glance, "Hey, Otogi, there's no juice on your legs, you know."
"Hmm? Oh, I know, Yugi. But don't worry about it, it feels really good."
Yugi almost chocked on air and Yami was about to object, but was stopped by the ringing of the telephone in the corner of the room. He sulked and walked over to the phone, picking it up and watched with narrowing eyes over on the couch as Otogi told Yugi that he missed a spot.
"Hello?" He answered.
"Hey, Yami, is that you?"
"Tristan?"
"Yeah. Could ya do me a favor and put Otogi on the line? It's important."
"Gladly…" He held the phone down and called over to the couch, "Otogi, Tristan's calling for you."
A huge pout took over Otogi's face and he huffed, quirking an eyebrow, "Oh, really now? Humph! Fine, but you'll have to bring the phone to me, Yami. Yugi's not done yet."
He cursed mentally and stomped over to the couch, holding out the phone, "Here." He said as he dropped it in the teen's hand.
Otogi smiled, "Thanks, Yami, you're a doll." He turned to the phone, his sweet voice gone down the drain, "Tristan!"
"Yeah, hi, Otogi."
"What? Don't you hi me! Have you forgotten what happened not thirty minutes ago? Have you?"
"… Maybe…"
"You're just an animal! What do you want?"
Tristan fidgeted with the phone, shifting it to his other hand, "Listen, I'm at Le Merde, you know that French restaurant over on 59th? Well, I'm here with Joey on a date—"
"OH! You're dating Joey!" He screeched, flailing around and kicking Yugi in the face, "I'll never forgive you!"
"Dammit, Otogi, calm down! I'm not dating Joey, I'm here because he stole my money to date a hotdog!"
"… Oh."
"I just called to tell you that he's lost his mind and I don't know when I'll be back to pick you up, that's all."
Tristan could hear relief in Otogi's voice, "Alright, Tristan. Don't worry about me, I'll just have Yugi wash the rest of me while he's at it."
Before hanging up, he heard Yugi whine and Yami shouting and hollering. Tristan set the phone on the cradle and turned around, shaking his head. He'd used the phone in the back of the restaurant by the bathrooms, not only to phone Otogi but to get away from Joey for five seconds. He was driving the teen insane, talking to a hotdog. Tristan just couldn't understand it.
He made his way into the large dining room again that was littered with tables and waiters with fake French accents and wedgies all the way up their butts. He maneuvered through them and reseated himself at the table where his best friend and his best friend's 'date' were seated.
"Oh, hey, Tristan." Joey said, looking away from the hotdog that was seated across the small, candlelit table, "Hot Dog and I were just talking about you."
He rolled his eyes, "Oh really?"
"Uh-huh." He nodded, turning back to the piece of meat that was on a highchair, "Tell him what you said, it was so hilarious."
"…"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Tristan almost fell over out of shock when he heard Joey die of laughter at absolutely nothing. It took about five minutes of Joey banging his fists on the table and almost going into a laughing-induced coma. When he was back to semi-normal, he took in a breath.
"Ooh, man, that gets me every time!"
"… What gets you?" Tristan asked, looking quite confused.
Joey frowned and turned to Hot Dog, "Don't worry about him, he just doesn't understand your accent very well. But it was funny, trust me!" He leaned in a whispered, "Besides that, your joke might've been too highbrow for him. Tristan's just not as smart as some people."
"…"
"… I know you're not gossiping about me with a piece of meat."
"Maybe I am. And stop referring to Hot Dog as a piece of meat! It's totally degrading, how would you like it if I called you a piece of meat? Wouldn't you feel like all anyone wanted to do was fondle you? You really need to have more respect, man."
"… Joey, I'd like to speak with you—"
Before Tristan could finish his sentence, a waiter who was fiddling with his fake mustache, walked over to their table and cleared his throat, "Bonjour, and welcome to Le Merde. Have you gentlemen decided yet?"
"Um, yeah." Joey said, looking down at his menu quickly, "I'll have those weird snails on a plate. I've always wanted to try those… Hey, you don't get them straight from the ground, do you?"
"… No." The waiter shook his head slowly before turning to Tristan, "And what will you be having?"
"Oh. Um, just a glass of water…"
"Very well, then. Your meals will be out shortly." He nodded and turned on his heel, but as soon as he was leaving, Joey called him back.
"Hey! You didn't take all of our orders!"
He blinked strangely and turned back around, "Oh, I am so sorry… Who… Who else is there besides this young man and yourself?"
Joey rolled his eyes and motioned to the hotdog in the highchair as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The waiter blinked extremely slowly and then looked at Tristan who's head was lowered in shame. He turned back to Joey, "… The hotdog, sir?"
"…"
Joey turned to Hot Dog, who had obviously caught his attention. He was mumbling something to the weiner, and they seemed to be going back and forth before he turned back to the terribly confused waiter, "Hot Dog just wants a Caesar salad and a glass of water."
"… Let me get this straight." The waiter put his left hand on his hip and pointed the other hand which held his pen, towards Hot Dog, "I am taking an order… for a hotdog?"
Tristan covered his face as others in the room began to stop their conversations and listen in.
The blonde frowned, "Just what do you mean by saying 'a hotdog', huh? I'll have ya know, this is a very special person! Ya can't just treat people like that and call 'em whatever you want! Your customers have feelings!"
"B-But I…!"
"Joey, calm down! C'mon, man, you're causing a scene!"
More whispers among the other customers started up and as Tristan looked around, they were all starring, their eyes and ears open. He groaned as Joey continued to scold the waiter who was at a loss for words, mouth agape. In a second, the door to the kitchen opened and a rather large man in a business suit came out and over to their table, standing next to the waiter.
"Is there a problem over here?"
Joey scowled, pointing to the waiter with his thumb, "He's the one with the problem. He doesn't want to serve my friend."
The man who seemed the be the manager of Le Merde blinked and looked at his employee, "Is that a fact?"
"N-No! W-Wait, please, I didn't say anything like that!"
"Oh, so now you're changing your tune!"
The manager turned to Tristan, "Are you not being helped, sir?"
Joey shook his head, "No, not Tristan. Hot Dog." He motioned once again to the hotdog who sat right across from himself and his friend. The manager and the waiter along with everyone else in the restaurant, looked over to the highchair where a wrinkled hotdog sat, wedged between two buns.
Everyone blinked.
Tristan stood up, speaking to the manager, "On my friend's behalf, I would simply like to say that he's insane and I'm in the process of getting him help!"
"Hey! I'm not insane!"
"Like hell you aren't! Man, you need counseling! Is it my fault? Is it? Maybe I've been spending too much time with Otogi. Maybe I should've been hanging out with you more." Tristan grabbed his buddy by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes, "Whatever it is, I promise to be with ya 24/7, Joey, but just promise me you'll throw that hotdog away, this has gone far enough!"
Joey blinked, "… What are you talking about?"
"… I… uh…"
He looked back to the manager, "So are we going to get our food or what?"
The manager looked baffled and held his head, mumbling something about needing an aspirin. He told the waiter to let them order while he found the necessary drugs to kill his headache and possibly himself.
TBC…
