A Piece of Cake
Chapter Three
'I should have thought this through'
Battler sank back down into his chair with a sigh, folding his arms. He didn't much care about standing up and trying to stare the butler down at this point- mainly because it was a fight Battler was sure he'd lose. It was a foregone conclusion. Battler, even with his dramatic hand gestures (Beatrice made fun of them, but that was only because she was an old woman in the body of a sexy blonde and she didn't understand Battler's mastery of melodrama), knew he wouldn't be able to intimidate Ronove.
That damn butler was so... S-so...
Gah! Battler hardly had the words for it- but when Ronove was invading his personal space like that, smiling all the while as though they were actually friends and what he was doing was okay, it made Battler want to punch Ronove in the face; and yet, at the same time, Battler couldn't.
Not before his face had turned bright red, anyway.
Battler felt as though Ronove were manipulating his feelings somehwow- and he hated it. If it wasn't Beatrice poking fun at him it was the stakes, and if it wasn't the stakes it was Ronove, and if it wasn't Ronove it was the voice inside Battler's own head telling him he was incompetent.
This wasn't fair.
Then again, nothing in the meta world was 'fair'.
Was that really all Battler meant to the twisted inhabitants of the meta world? Did he exist merely for other people to taunt?
It... wasn't a pleasant thought.
Everybody else had so much control over him- from Beato with her chains (not a metaphor; that woman had some seriously 'interesting' hobbies) to Ronove with his ability to make Battler blush like a stammering school girl.
And Battler hated it.
Granted, Battler hated most things about the meta world- but, above all (well, maybe the constant murder of himself and his family was more upsetting, but Battler didn't really want to think about that), Battler hated being so helpless; lost amidst a sea of eerily cackling witches and demons with suave smiles that kept turning his world upside down when he'd never asked them to, and would much prefer it if they left him alone.
Why couldn't Battler hold a little power over somebody for a change?
The idea of being called 'Master' by one of the seven stakes as they hurried after him in maid's attire was very charming... Or maybe Beato in a short dress- far more 'modern' than the heavy, uncomfortable-looking gowns she usually wore...
Ihihi...
Lost in this rather charming fantasy, Battler dreamed. His head was propped up by his hands, elbows on the table, whilst he stared off into the distance.
"Battler?~"
But the soft sound of Ronove's voice soon pulled Battler from his dreams; his dreams of being a lord in a cape with an adoring harem at his feet.
"What do you want?" asked Battler sourly, blinking up Ronove- trying to forget the fact his face had turned bright red when Ronove invaded his personal space a few minutes ago.
"I'm merely curious~ If I irritate you so very much, Battler- and I can't imagine why I would-" here, Battler rolled his eyes, and Ronove's smile grew just a little wider too, "-then why, I wonder, are you still here?"
Battler sighed.
His dreams about Beato and the seven stakes had been nice, but he knew they were incredibly unlikely; it wasn't like Battler was ever going to exercise that much control over Beato's game board or her pieces. If Battler so much as thought about dressing Beato up in something a little less 'traditional' than her bulky gowns, she'd probably kill him. Then revive him. Then kill him again- in a multitude of gory, painful ways, each death scenario more brutal than the last, until she'd destroyed every last cell in Battler's body.
Out of all the meta world inhabitants, Ronove (and Virgilia- but Battler didn't know where she was) was the one least likely to strangle Battler with his own entrails, 'just for fun'. And Battler wasn't being paranoid; he'd actually received similar threats from Satan when he got her name mixed up with Mammon's (honestly, there were too many stakes. It'd be easier if they wore name tags).
"I guess you're the best of a bad lot," said Battler, voice deadpan. "Congratulations."
"My~ I feel so flattered."
"At least you're easily placated."
"Of course," said Ronove, voice smooth and silky, in a way that Battler had to admit was rather charming. "Being complimented by a physically attractive person is always rewarding~ It's base human nature to feel flattered. Pu ku ku~"
Ronove had spoken in such a matter-of-fact manner it took Battler a few seconds to distinguish anything wrong with his statement. However, once the full impact of his words- he's flirting with you, he's actually flirting with you. T-that's really fucking creepy!- hit Battler, the red head's face soon turned red again.
Damn his hair. Having a red face and red hair was never a good combination; it made him look like a lighted splint.
"D-don't say stuff like that!"
"Hmn? 'Stuff' like what?" asked Ronove, voice filled with faux innocence- which was almost as disturbing as his softer, shyer, little girlish tones. The idea of an 'innocent' Ronove was, quite frankly, laughable. Or really creepy. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
Battler grit his teeth, eyes narrowed. "Stop flirting with me."
"Well... Maybe if it wasn't so rewarding to tease you, I wouldn't try," said Ronove, eyes glittering with amusement. "You really do walk into these things, Battler~"
"It's not my fault you're a creep."
"That's incredibly harsh. I felt we were beginning to understand one another, too," said Ronove, with mock disappointment. "We've reverted to childish insults already?"
Battler gave a small, irritated 'humph'. That 'humph' summed up all of Battler's feelings in a neat little nutshell- and that 'humph' conveyed far more than any complete sentence could have done. It translated roughly as 'we'll never understand each other you weirdo, and I don't really want to either- and I'm not here because I enjoy your company; I'm here because I have nowhere else to go, and you're the one person I feel kinda-sorta safe with because you probably won't try and kill me for your own enjoyment, but, yeah, I'm not sure if it's worth it considering you keep trying to sexually harass me, and it's actually very disturbing- maybe if you were a sexy girl it'd be fine but you're not so back off before I smash your head open.'
Battler wasn't sure how much of that hate-filled tirade was actually communicated through his 'humph'- but it seemed Ronove at least understood part of it, because he laughed.
"Is there anything I could possibly do to regain your trust?" asked Ronove, smiling.
Battler intended to say something rather demeaning and Beatrice-like, such as 'grovel on the floor and kiss the tips of my shoes and ma~aybe I'll consider it. Ihihi~', but, at that moment, his stomach decided to speak for him.
Damn traitor.
"Hungry?" asked Ronove, smiling.
Battler scowled. "Maybe."
"Perhaps I can sate your... appetite, then~"
"...You really have the amazing talent of making everything sound like a bad euphemism," said Battler, voice deadpan, eyes narrowing. It was useless getting flustered about it- even if his cheeks were still dusted with light pink. If he became unnecessarily embarrassed over everything inappropriate Ronove said (which was about 85% of the words that came from his mouth), Ronove would only tease him again. "And people call me a pervert."
"I assure you, I'm a gentleman. I would never try to take advantage of you, Battler~"
"Good. Because if you tried, I'd hurt you."
Ronove only smiled (he always smiled. Would his face melt off if he didn't? ...That would be kind of interesting to watch), and- with a click of his fingers- a slice of cake appeared before Battler on the table top.
"I made it myself," said Ronove. "I would hope it tastes somewhat better than the cookie you just ate."
"Tch." Battler gave another short, disparaging noise- and he was quite disturbed to find he sounded an awful lot like Aunt Natsuhi when she began to develop one of her headaches. Battler had to wonder if he was doing the same squinty eyes and pursed lips thing Natsuhi did at the onslaught of a painful headache, too...
Maybe that was why Ronove was grinning at him.
Did Battler unwittingly pull that unattractive 'my head's about to blow up' face all the time, and he'd never realized? Was that the 'beautiful' expression that grace his face when he tried to think rationally about the completely irrational murders, too?
…No wonder Beatrice kept laughing at him.
Natsuhi was a very pretty woman- but that pursed-lips narrowed-eyed expression didn't suit her. Battler was, if Beato's comments were to be believed (and Battler didn't really believe them, considering how much Beatrice lied... But it still knocked his self esteem back, just a little, being insulted by such a gorgeous woman), hideous, with stupid hair. If that expression made Natsuhi look ugly, then what on earth did it do to Battler's face...?
Battler scowled.
Why did all the meta world inhabitants have to be so unfairly attractive? Beato was blonde with blue eyes, the stakes were all proportioned like fashion models, Virgilia- despite being the fairytale representation of Kumasawa- was beautiful, and there was something so unsettlingly charming about Ronove it made Battler want to hit him.
Urgh.
Battler was going to get a complex now.
Still frowning, Battler picked up his fork, and stabbed it into his slice of cheesecake. The motion was overly angry, and he moved with about as much finesse as a mountain bear.
"You need to find a new hobby," said Battler childishly- being vindictive merely for the sake of being vindictive. "Cooking isn't a very manly thing to do."
"Then, would you prefer if it I took pleasure in trying to torture you like Milady?" asked Ronove.
Battler's face blanched.
That... ... was quite an unpleasant thought. It was bad enough Beato instructed him to kiss her shoes- but if Ronove started doing it too, Battler might actually throw himself into the jaws of Beato's goats.
Fighting the Golden Witch Beatrice wasn't really worth the pain and embarrassment and mental torture that came with it. Battler only had to hope he got some kind of reward at the end, or he'd file a complaint.
"...Not really," Battler finally said. Then, he sighed. "I guess you're fine as you are."
"Why thank you~ You like me just the way I am?" asked Ronove, mischief laced through his words.
Battler pulled a face. "Don't over-romanticize. There's so much stuff wrong with you I don't even know where to begin. Well…" Battler smirked. "I guess there's your mustache for one."
"Would you care to tell me what's wrong with my mustache…? I take great pride in my appearance~"
"You look like a creep," said Battler flatly.
"Ah~ Resorting to petty insults is incredibly incisive and witty," said Ronove, grinning. He didn't look like he cared; not really- and he sounded more amused than anything else. "I must commend you on your excellent, extensive vocabulary, Battler~"
"Yeah, because resorting to sarcasm to prove a point is sooo much better."
"…Touché. Nicely done," said Ronove, giving Battler a small round of applause. "That was rather well argued~"
"Thank you." Battler allowed himself to smile back, ever so slightly, at Ronove; a more sincere smile than he usually gave. That rare smile was made all the more unusual, however, if you considered their pervious exchange had been little more than a string of thinly veiled verbal insults. "And I wasn't saying I liked you as you are. I'm saying, compared to Beato, you're… okay. Not that insufferable."
"High praise coming from Ushiromiya Battler indeed~"
"Of course," said Battler, smirking. "At least you're not completely insane. One psychopath is enough for me."
"Pu ku ku~ I fear Milady might be giving you a warped view of witches. She's far nicer than most of her kind."
Battler felt his heart sink like the pit of a peach. "You're kidding."
"I'm afraid not."
Battler gave a small groan, scraping the prongs of his fork against his plate with a horrible skrrrch sound that even made him wince. There were witches in the meta world worse than Beato?
Battler made a mental note never to cross paths with any of those.
"This world is fucked up."
"I'm afraid so."
"Heh~ Should I consider myself lucky, then? Is Beato actually soft and lovable on the inside?"
"Milady is not that bad once you get to know her."
"Without 'love' it can't be seen, right?" asked Battler dryly, holding the fork- a cube of cake stuck to it- to his lips.
"Something along those lines, yes."
"You want me to love Beato?"
Ronove laughed at this, placing his fingers against his lips again in another incredibly elegant motion that made Battler want to hit him. "You could try- but you'd have to be very brave to do so. Milady is a difficult person to 'love'- even for people like myself and Miss Virgilia, who've known her for so long. But you shouldn't take everything she says to heart. Milady is hardly as cruel as she pretends to be."
Battler raised a brow at this interesting information. Was Beato... a tsundere?
If that was the case, maybe she'd look better with twin tails... Or a high school uniform...
Ooh, a Beato with twin tails in a sailor suit... Why did that sound so adorable? Ihihihi... She could join Battler's harem with the seven maids of purgatory…
That sounded like fun…
Wasn't there a fragment out there that showed a scenario like that?
"So, what about you?" Battler shot back at Ronove- trying to dispel the dangerous image of Beato dressed like a school girl from his mind. "You want me to try and 'love' you, too?"
"Why, Battler~" said Ronove, smiling. He took a seat beside Battler- and Battler was sure that chair hadn't been there before, but... Who cared? It was the meta world- and Battler was too tired/hungry to try and protest any impracticalities. Linking his fingers together, Ronove lent his against the table, his head tilted to one side. "I didn't realize you and I shared so many interests~"
"Don't say things like that so seriously," said Battler, voice deadpan. He tried to look unaffected- but he couldn't help shifting in his seat slightly. "It's creepy."
"Perhaps you shouldn't ask me questions like that then~"
"Tch. Whatever." Battler rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter. I was speaking hypothetically."
"Hmn~ Perhpas I'll indulge your hypothesis for a while."
"Hn?"
Ronove leant in just a closer, that unreadable smile still on his face. "I imagine Milady would grow rather jealous of anybody you did 'love' more than her. But..." Ronove pressed a gloved fingertip against his lips. "Please don't tell Milady I told you this~"
"She'd get angry?"
"Undoubtedly."
That... was very interesting...
If Battler declared his undying love for somebody who wasn't Beato, would the golden-haired witch... actually become jealous? Would she try to feed Battler's potential 'love interest' to her goats...?
That sounded entertaining.
In a rather twisted kind of way.
Was Battler a twisted person?
Maybe he was becoming one. If being twisted was the only way to put Beato in her place, maybe he'd try it.
Now that Battler thought about it, Beatrice did seem to care about Battler's opinion a lot. When he'd lost his temper with her, her eyes had actually widened… And she'd looked just a little bit upset.
If Battler began to flirt with somebody else- if he paid another person more attention than her- would Beatrice begin to relent her verbal and physical abuse?
Would she try to get back in Battler's good graces?
It sounded like an intriguing experiment.
...And Ronove was very, very irritating. If Battler wanted to play a game- if Battler wanted to 'control' somebody- then... why not...?
Battler couldn't help but frown, heedless of how unattractive it might have made him look. He didn't like the way his internal thought process was shifting; and it the mental images of Beato in her school uniform had been replaced with… other… things…
Things involving Ronove.
'Without love it can't be seen', huh?
Maybe that related to Beato's true nature; but could it also relate to whatever was hiding behind Ronove's unreadable smile, too?
Battler was sick and tired of Beato, and everybody else in the meta world, pushing him around; and he was sick of Beato's mind games, too. Maybe, if he made Beato jealous... He could bet he one trying to play mind games with her.
That would be quite a lot of fun.
Perhaps.
Like poking a sleeping tiger in the eye, or stepping on a landmine, it promised destruction; but if Battler managed to guide Beato's wrath towards somebody else, and he managed to manipulate a piece of Beato's furniture in the same way he himself had been manipulated, it would be worth it... Wouldn't it?
Besides...
It would be interesting to see how Ronove reacted, if anything else.
Battler smirked a smirk of somebody who had formulated a very bad plan under the influence of constant teasing from a childish witch, a lack of sleep, a lack of food, a desire to hold power over somebody and a rather rash nature; although, to the untrained eye, Battler's smirk would probably have looked just like a normal smirk.
Battler knew he was probably going to regret this later.
But he didn't really care.
"Hey, Ronove~" said Battler, his voice adapting a light-hearted lilt. "Why don't you try a piece of cake?"
"I'm afraid it's not in my place," said Ronove smoothly, with a small smile.
"Like you care about your 'place'."
"True, but I'm not that partial to sweet things."
Battler's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "And yet you make nothing else."
"It's a shock, I know. When Miss Beelzebub discovered I didn't share her penchant for sweet food she tried to gouge me. It was an unpleasant experience. Miss Beelzebub is rather enchanting, but has a terrible temper…"
"I'm not gonna stake you," said Battler, jabbing his fork in the air to make a point... Which, somehow, managed to dispel his 'trust me it's okay I won't stab you with this easily stabbale object' point at the same time. "I just think you should try some cake. What about the 'heart' that went into it?~"
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline."
"...Fine." Battler frowned. "Have it your way, then. If you want to be awkward."
And then he placed the piece of cake in his mouth, slid it off the fork-
And...
In a moment of complete madness he'd try and rationalize to himself later, when the distracting images of Beato in schoolgirl outfit trying to catch his attention had fully left his head-
Battler lent forwards
(what am I doing)
and took hold of Ronove's chin between his fingers
(no seriously Battler what the hell are you doing)
and pulled Ronove's face towards his
(abort, abort! I think the elastic bands holding your brain together have snapped! Beatrice has broken you)
"B-battler... What are you doing...?"
(that's a very good question)
But the slight stutter in Ronove's voice, all of a sudden, made Battler think his stupid plan was worth it; just to see that slightly less than composed look flicker across Ronove's face as Battler pressed their foreheads together.
Battler smirked.
"What does it look like?~ Stupid."
And, with that childish insult-
(Ronove... looks a lot more attractive when his eyes are wide like that. That's a surprise)
-Battler pressed his lips against Ronove's in a saccharine sweet, cake-flavored experimental kiss.
a/n: i'm trying to keep these guys vaguely ic but the thought battler would initiate anything with ronove without being prompted into it by external factors is quite frankly ~ridiculous~ so yea despite my attempts for them remain ic it's still a bit... ~not~ XD forgive me. at least i'm tryin to rationalize it somehow, even if it's not completely believable.
there's something refreshing about writing light-hearted fanfiction in which the charas are not gouging their own skin off or pondering how much they hate humanity for a change~ all my stuff has been so dark lately, this fic is like a small bastion of happiness amidst a ~sea~ or angst XDD
~renahhchen xoxoxoxo who has neglected to use capitals here for no real reason trolololol