Author's Notes: Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm back, but busier than before, so I apologize for future lagging updates. Really, college just eats your free time.

Warnings: Yaoi, shounen-ai, slash, whatever you call it. Cursing.

Pairing(s): IkeMarth. Others will depend on the story's progress and your observations.

Disclaimer: I don't own Super Smash Brothers. Really. I don't even have a Wii.

Summary: Teaching assistants, hours at the coffeehouse, graduate programs, undergraduate tutoring, medical students… no one ever thought there was more to college than academics and work.


Mechanism

By SSBBSwords


"Hey."

Ike's eyes averted from staring through the window and landed on his friend who slid into the seat before him.

"I have something to tell you." Roy looked grim, appearing much too serious for a typical college sophomore whose biggest preoccupation was passing general chemistry.

"Okay…" For some reason, his small breaks during work weren't as relaxing as they used to be. The junior attributed this change to Roy continually dropping disastrous epiphanies left and right.

Roy inhaled slowly as if steeling himself for being the unfortunate messenger. "Ike. You can not like this guy."

If Ike had been drinking anything, he would have promptly spat the mouthful out. Déjà vu. However, he did have to set his cup of water down or else it would have spilled. "What?"

Roy leaned forward, his voice lowering as his eyes darted from side to side to ascertain secure surroundings. "You're my best friend, and I can't—"

"—I don't like him," Ike hissed in an equally restrained voice, extremely incredulous that Roy had even brought up this… assumption.

"Huh?" The redhead's eyes grew large with confusion (and probably disbelief).

"Don't…" Ike was having a difficult time formulating his argument, whatever it was. He had considered this before, but he couldn't rationalize his obsession. In practical reasons, that is. It had to be temporary. "… Don't make it out to be a… crush or something." That made it sound all the worse. He figured that by this age, he would have acquired some level of maturity.

True to his unrestricted personality, Roy's next sentence came out in rushed urgency. "Are you listening to yourself? We both know it is."

"I'm not—" Ike laced a frustrated hand through his hair and tugged at blue spikes. "I don't like him like that."

The sophomore narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You aren't denying it due to unconventionality?"

"N-No. Fuck, no!" his negation came out a little too defensive, a little too threatened. "Stop jumping to conclusions."

"So you really don't like him." Roy didn't look convinced. It wasn't a very convincing act, after all. "Then about…"

Ike knew there was incriminating evidence, and his short-circuiting neurons weren't creating any plausible excuse. Or maybe he could use that as an excuse. "You always said I was socially retarded."

His friend paused and mulled over his statement. "Sounds like something I would say," Roy finally concluded after a moment of mentally clearing up discrepancies with this explanation. "Well then, I don't have anything to tell you anymore." The familiar cheerful grin reappeared on the sophomore's face. "Awesome. Great!"

"Yeah…" Ike was so relieved that the conversation was over that he did not notice that his friend's serious concern had been left unsaid.

"Hey, so did your apartment-mate give the okay for Friday?" the redhead asked eagerly, all traces of worry absent.

Ike blankly searched his mental calendar. What was happening on Friday again? Oh, right. Early celebration of his birthday. Fuck. He should have remembered. No, correction. He should have been counting down the hours.

It wasn't normal for a college male to feel so apathetic to a night full of alcohol.

"He's fine with it, since he has a lock on his door and we'll be cleaning up," Ike finally answered with a shrug.

Trying to be practical, Roy pointed out with large, don't-blame-me eyes, "We won't be in the best shape for 'cleaning up.' You know that, right?"

Ike smirked knowingly because Roy's statement was really only half true. "You won't be, but that doesn't mean you can get out of the responsibility, hangover or not."

The second year frowned and crossed his arms. "You are officially the worst best friend a guy could have."

Ike couldn't stop the short laugh that escaped and, honestly, Roy was just setting himself up to be teased to the brink insanity (payback's a bitch, Ike mentally noted). "You say otherwise after four shots."

The second year actually turned a little red on that comment. "Shut up. I'm not this huge mass like you are."

"—Taller and more built, you mean?" The junior interjected with his careless, boyish charm (that was really just wasted on Roy).

"I swear," the redhead continued with a glare and a challenging tone, "my tolerance is higher nowadays."

"Five shots then." Ike charitably changed the quantity with innocent objectivity.

Roy huffed and stood up. "Oh, just shut the hell up and have your love tryst with a pretty boy."

"Hey!"


Sometimes Marth thought that he frequented the patio so much, he practically lived there. Then again, it was literally the midpoint of the campus, conveniently neighbors to the coffee shop and conglomeration of fast food chains.

For the first time in ten minutes, Link paused with a fork halfway to its destination long enough to say, "So Zelda is free on Friday. Want to go out and do something?"

Surprised, Marth nodded but couldn't help his curiosity. "What's the occasion?"

"Who knows," Link scoffed. "All med schools can kiss my…" The blond trailed off when his gaze wandered behind his roommate and locked on a pair of widened brown eyes, which blinked twice in response.

As if he wasn't caught saying something sacrilegious, Link grinned cheerfully. "Hi, short stuff. Can I help you?"

"Hi…"

Marth turned partway in his seat toward the familiar voice. The brunet that came into view looked a little intimidated. "Hey, Pit. Did you eat yet? If not, would you like to eat with us?" Yes, this was damage control. Link had a track record of disillusioning young undergraduates. Not with ill intentions, of course.

"It's okay, thanks," Pit turned down the invitation politely. "One of my kids asked me about this problem." The sophomore handed over a dog-eared copy of a practice exam. "And I couldn't get to the correct answer either."

Marth had barely glanced down when his roommate stole the packet. With a straw stuck between his lips, Link skimmed the problem and then the tutor's work with a look of extreme interest. "Oh, hey! I wrote this! Last year spring, right? Yeah, good times…"

"Really?" Suddenly there was newfound respect in the sophomore's eyes and Pit perked up, his typical enthusiasm reappearing. "How—"

Link's chuckling interrupted the undergraduate's question. "Shit, I remember making this one… hey, Marth! Remember last year when I had that really crap-ass week and deci—"

Marth knew this was coming and gave his roommate a glare. He was silently hoping the blond would get hint: shut up about the crazy not-really-substance-abuse-okay-maybe stories. "-Decided not to use a periodic table when you wrote this?" Marth filled in for his friend with a sweet but chilly smile. "Yes, I remember."

The blond looked about ready to pout before changing his mind. With a dismissive wave of a hand, Link shrugged off the tacit warning and handed the exam back to Pit. "Sorry 'bout that. I mixed up elements halfway through because, for the oddest reason, all the R's looked like B's and the numbers were danc—"

Marth could tell exactly what gears were turning in Pit's head just by the look in those brown eyes: Drunk or high? Sounds like high to me…

"Next time, remember to wear your glasses," Marth interrupted again. "Pit, I don't suppose this answered your question, did it?"

The second year tutor blinked as if clearing out the extra junk in his mind. "Actually... I think it did." Marth pointedly ignored Link's triumphant I-win look. Pit glanced between the two graduate students with a higher level of uncertainty than before. "Uh, one more thing…"

"Shoot," Link generously offered, stabbing his lunch with renewed vigor. Marth simply shrugged: it really took too much energy to try to reign in Link's dynamic personality.

Pit's expression was surprisingly solemn, but the undergraduate's next question had Link choking on his meal. "When your student confides something to you 'hypothetically,' does that mean it's actually… well, that person? Like… it's actually not hypothetical at all?"

Marth took the precious minute that his roommate spent coughing into a napkin to answer Pit's questions himself. "You can never assume that, but if you are worried, stay observant and offer your support until you do figure it out. And make sure you're… absolutely positive."

The brunet considered this and then smiled that 100-watt smile of his. "Wow, thanks. I knew I could count on you."

Link chose this moment to recover and after composing himself exclaimed with genuine sentiment, "Shit, I'm loving this kid. How come I never got any like this? Hey, you tutoring next quarter too?"

Pit answered uneasily, "Y-yes…"

"Fantastic! I'll make questions so hard, you'll just have to hang out with me all the time to get the answers!"

Marth laced a hand through his own blue strands in a gesture of defeat. Pit looked understandably scared.


Ike hesitated to keep the doors unlocked that Friday morning when he started work. Why? Well, he wasn't feeling too good. To be exact, he was more troubled than he was during his conversation with Roy, more anxious than he was last week, and a lot more tense than he had been all quarter.

Once he had all the machines running properly, he made a cup of tea in boredom, dunking the bag in and out and watching the hot water stain. Huh. Moping wasn't so bad once in a while.

It wasn't that he was caught in a downward spiral of self-loathing or anything equally unnecessary (or at least to that level), it simply was that between meetings, per se, things came into perspective. Realistic perspective. Like he had said before, he didn't like Marth like that. It was just—

As if on cue, the door was pushed open cautiously by the familiar slender figure, who scanned the empty area.

"Marth, you're early again." Ike straightened from his slouched position, surprised to say the least that his muddled thoughts and metaphorical weight on his shoulders vanished.

"Last week was nice." Marth shrugged lightly as to explain himself. "Waking up a little earlier never hurts."

"Only if you have a set bedtime before midnight," the junior replied with a grimace. What normal college student slept before midnight? "So you're a morning person."

The smaller student laughed softly. "Just like you."

Ike's mood brightened, as did his expression, which adopted his trademark morning grin that Marth had been referring to. "What, this?" Ike's smile practically turned into a smirk in one second. "I'm an all-day person. Wake me up at four in the morning and I'll be happy to see you."

As if just waking up, his mind jolted in realization and the enjoyment factor on Ike's face dropped straight off. What the hell did he just say (or imply in more ways than one)? Fuck you, Freud!

Fortunately, it seemed that Marth's mind wasn't contaminated like his was. That, or the other student was simply unmoved by these types of statements. Not that Ike had meant it like that!

"Your tea?" Marth had smoothly changed the subject with a slight gesture to the gently steaming cup of tea in front of Ike.

Having long forgotten about the thing, Ike looked down and wanted to shudder. Why did he keep doing this to himself? Tea wasn't his preferred beverage. "Er, not really." He chuckled sheepishly. "You always like drinking it, so I keep thinking it might be good."

"You don't look like a tea person," Marth understood and agreed matter-of-factly. "So, mine?"

"Yours, and it's probably drinkable now." Ike moved the cup a few inches closer to the other student, and after watching Marth fumble through a section of his backpack, the undergraduate added, "Honestly, you've overspent enough on this tea thing. I think I'm going to stop charging you."

One hand still groping into the unknown recesses of his backpack, Marth raised an eyebrow at the other's remark. "If that doesn't get you in trouble with management, my faith in the system just plummeted."

"I'll just stop trying to drink it during my break. Both sides win," Ike rationalized easily. Really. It was all so simple.

Marth zipped up his backpack and swung it over one shoulder in a fluid movement before commenting nonchalantly with a wry smile, "Now I'll be forever indebted to you."

Ike had to snort. How fitting. The one person left in this generation with manners just had to be this guy. "Yes, and in exchange for these three dollars, I demand you do my laundry for a week." He was kind of surprised that his wit wasn't all that dull.

Unable to stop the laugh that rose in his throat, Marth almost spilled the tea over his own hand. "Not sexual favors? I'm somewhat impressed."

Where did that come from? Ike wasn't sure if he turned a little pink, but part of him wondered why he hadn't jumped to that joke first. Something about not wanting to scare the other student away, maybe? "Please. Do I look like that type? I mean… maybe for three-fifty…"

Marth was smiling, and it wasn't the polite, helpful smile that usually was there. It was a little brighter, and little happier, and Ike trailed off as his mind blissfully blanked and he just stared.

The graduate student chuckled and took a sip of tea. "It's good to know that my roommate is the only perverted friend I have. I asked him to go grocery shopping once when I knew I would be busy and he demanded my virginity."

Ike's stomach tightened unpleasantly while his brain screamed for him to calm down—honestly, it was just a joke! But that still didn't stop his physiological reactions to the statement.

Just thinking of that roommate made him apprehensive. Ike swallowed and just hoped he wasn't acting strangely when he gave a short laugh and replied, "Worth two-gallons of milk, huh?"

"Something like that." It was then that Marth jumped a little as his phone rang. Staring at the caller ID, Marth murmured with amusement, "Speak of the devil…"

Ike didn't know why he heard alarm bells go off or felt extremely compelled to distract the other, but he succumbed and tried anyway. Clasping one hand on top of the other's hand (effectively trapping the phone and incidentally hitting the silence button), Ike asked, "Hey, what are you doing tonight?"

The smaller student looked up, surprise very much evident, but it was dismissed without a second thought. Ike realized with a warm sort of feeling that maybe they really were friends.

"That's probably why my roommate called," Marth answered truthfully.

"My friends wanted to celebrate my twenty-first birthday," Ike blurted out, feeling somewhat lucky that he had intervened with the phone call. "You should come. 632 Manor, behind the grad apartments."

Tilting his head, Marth considered this little bit of information. That meant alcohol and minors. Not entirely his preferred scene. Plus, how often did Zelda get some time off? Still… Ike wasn't letting go.

Marth's smile was a little weaker. That usually happened when he had to lie.

"I'll consider it."


Author's Notes: Please review! I love opinions on character representation and plot development! Chapter 4 is underway, I promise!