Slide it Down

Playground theme, Yullen Week.

AU, because I don't know what a 19th Century playground looks like. I keep thinking it's this super dangerous place, like there are freaking traps everywhere. Like, instead of a regular swing, there are, like, blades and shit on the edges, and the sandbox is a spikebox with fucking pikes jutting out the ground and the slide is this super-duper-dangerous slab of metal with cheese grater-like ordered lumps.

Yeah. I'm sticking with AU.

Disclaimed.

So, one day, in the near end of December, Yuu Kanda fell asleep.

Not that the guy was a complete insomniac, and didn't sleep for the world. Allen was pretty sure Mr. Kanda of the pricks got a nice sleep every night after kicking puppies and stealing money from the homeless.

No, the thing is this: Kanda fell asleep on a slide.

And, in a bout of serious business, a picture was mandatory.

"Where the hell is that bloody phone?" Allen Walker muttered, patting down his pants (which, in retrospect, were already tight enough to the point where one glance would've been able to figure out whether or not there was a phone in the pockets). "I need a picture."

It was a small slide, made for small children, and the not-so-small nineteen-year-old high school graduate was just, well, sleeping on it. His arms hung limply over the sides of the folded slab of metal, and his legs stretched out, heels digging into the sand.

On a scale from one to ten, Allen had to give the display an eleven in endearingly pitiful.

"Oo," he cooed, pleased. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his thin, small phone. "Found it." The British teenager flipped open the phone and set it to camera mode. Aiming the lens at the sleeping Japanese teenager, he smiled. "Stay still, twat."

Click.

"Mm hmm," Allen hummed, grinning. He pocketed his phone. "This is perfect. I'd love to see him tease my height now."

Of course, he also knew that there was a one in a thousand chance that Kanda would directly care. Really, he knew the prick like the back of his disfigured hand, and he knows that hand like the alphabet.

Regardless, Kanda was a prick, but now Allen had blackmail (of sorts) material. He loves blackmailing.

The sixteen-year-old clicked his tongue in disdain as the steady rise and fall of Kanda's chest didn't miss a beat, and he placed his hands on his hips.

"Wake up," he called, checking his watch (that was broken, but it was a force of habit). "Prick, twat, wake up." He kicked the metal slide.

"Mmmrr," Kanda groaned, trying to turn over in the very, very limited space he had.

Allen had this horrible urge to laugh.

Oh, why even kid himself? He did so anyway. It's not like Kanda could hurt him for laughing.

"Hrmmm," the nineteen-year-old hummed grouchily. One dark-blue eye opened. "Damn, I knew it was you," he said wispily, obviously still somewhat asleep. "It's that fucking accent, I swear. Makes me want to kick someone's ass most of the time. Namely, ah, shit, what's that guy's name? Oh, yeah, you."

"Oh, shut it, prick." The white-haired teenager rolled his eyes with a smile. "How was your sleep?"

Kanda tried to sit up straight. "I can't feel my fucking neck. Shit."

Allen choked back a snicker, somehow.

"Damn," the older teenager rubbed the back of his neck, a scowl on his face. He was muttering to himself loudly, cursing in a manner that reminded Allen of a homosexual sailor. "That was a total fuckin' accident. Should've sat on the goddamn swings instead."

"Right, because that would've had such a better effect." He would've paid good money to see the nineteen-year-old asleep on a moving swing. That was some embarrassing stuff by itself, even if the slide is pitiful enough. "What's the point by the way?"

"What's the point of what?" Kanda cocked an eyebrow. "Your face? I don't know the point of it either. It's ugly as hell, that's for sure."

"Oh, you thought it was ugly." Allen crossed his arms. "Now, madame, what was the point of you sleeping on the slide?" The loser.

"Because I was tired, dipshit." The Japanese teenager waved a hand at him dismissively. "You were taking way too long to get here."

"You told me to come at four!"

"The fuck?" Kanda pointed at his own wristwatch. "It's seven-forty. How do you feel about that?"

"Like wondering why am I here anyway. So, why am I here anyway?" Allen asked, threading his gloved fingers through his white strands of hair.

"Oh. Uh, I forgot." Kanda shrugged. "Should've come here on time."

Allen graced him with a look of indifferent annoyance, as contradictory as it sounded. "You do realize that I live thirty minutes away, right?" the sixteen-year-old asked slowly, as though Kanda were a special kind of idiot.

Which was sad, because in Allen's opinion, he kind of was.

Well, at least the idiot part. Special? Not so much.

But, on the plus side, he was good-looking, and that was the only reason the white-haired boy never went through with his many plans leading to Kanda's imminent demise.

"Yeah, I know where you live." Kanda stretched, and the sounds of bones popping back into place reverberated loudly in the partially empty playground.

Allen grimaced. "Eww." Talk about yuck. Now he knew where every bone in the prick's body went, just by ear.

"Eww," the older teen mimicked in a voice one octave higher than usual. "Grow up, brat. So, what, you want me to take you home?"

"Well, it'd be really nice, to tell you the truth." If he didn't get that, then Allen was prepared to spell it out in Simple English.

"Hmph." Kanda eyed Allen's jeans with a little too much interest for the sixteen-year-old to be comfortable. "Hey. Come here."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to. Now, just do it."

Allen stepped closer to Kanda reluctantly. "Okay?"

A hand shot out and grabbed his hip, pulling him closer to the older teenager. "—the bloody hell?" he yelped, and Kanda's other hand reached into a back pocket. "Whoa! Uncomfortable, and I'm talking a lot!"

"You little punk," Kanda muttered distractedly. "You thought you'd get away with some shit like that, didn't you?"

"What are you—Oh!" His cellular phone was suddenly in Kanda's hand, and said man's hand was no longer in his pocket. "Give that back!"

The nineteen-year-old held out a hand to Allen's chest, holding him back as he flipped open the phone and explored the phone's features. "Here we go," he said victoriously. With a few more buttons being pressed, Kanda smirked and handed him back his phone. "Yeah, that picture is totally gone."

"You jerk." Allen snatched his phone back, insulted. He placed his phone in the front pocket this time, in case of emergency. He believed that whatever Kanda just pulled was totally sexual harassment, no matter how ridiculously handsome he was.

"Yeah, yeah." The Japanese teenager stood up, with difficulties since it seemed like his body was quite snug within the slide, and stretched his legs.

Eww. More bones popping into place.

"Quit that."

"Quit that."

Allen knew that the more he talked, the more likely it was that Kanda would start his favorite hobby of making fun of his existence.

"So, what's your address again?" Kanda asked, looking at his watch.

"I thought you knew." Prick.

"Yeah, well—" he shoved Allen playfully, a false frown on his face. "Maybe I need you to tell me again. Stupid."

Oh dear. Who exactly was Kanda calling stupid? "Mm hmm…" the younger teenager answered instead.

"Hey, don't mmmrrr at me!" Kanda huffed, roughly unlocking the car door. "If you're gonna talk to me, then you're gonna sound it out."

The guy was a total idiot.

But, Allen couldn't help but smile wider when he got into the passenger side of the vehicle.

If nothing else, the prick was good-looking.

He'll work on the other factors later.

END

Damn, that was random.

But, I really quite like this one, because I got to go all out with Allen the insulter and Kanda the "what'chu talkin' 'bout?" prick.

Another day done. :D:D:D:D