Greeetings! So I want to host a BL panel at AE, Vancouver in Canada, but only if enough people are interested.

See thread: http://animeevolution.net/index.php/topic,19391.0.html

What if the reason Alibaba has such terrible luck with women is because Kassim is manipulating the Rukh around them?

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It’s even more awkward than they would have guessed.

Neither of them dares to speak, as they quietly clean themselves up and get dressed. Allen will need the shower, and thank goodness it’s just across the gym, because he needs to clean himself out before it starts dripping out everywhere.

“You really di-didn’t need to… come IN me, you know,” Allen mutters disapprovingly.

Fuck, that’s really not the ideal conversation starter.

Kanda’s beyond embarrassed, and Allen’s face burns.

“Well, uh, hopefully, that man has given up for today, so I’ll just go to my locker and shower real quick—so, um…”

“…”

“I’ll need your trousers,” Allen deadpanned.

“The HELL you will!!” Kanda shouts.

They proceed to battle over the only clean pair of pants.

“I’ll be quick as a jiffy! Promise!”

“You won’t even fit, moyashi!” Kanda retorts.

“It’s Allen, and I can roll up the hems…? Come on, no one will see you as long as you wait in here!”

Wait, this conversation is getting awfully familiar.

“Nooo!!” is Kanda’s battle cry.

The young British male declares, “Trousers! Off! NOW!”

x o x o———x o

As he steps out of the shower, Allen rustles his wet hair, and dresses himself in his standard white button-up shirt, black jacket, and goes commando in black pants that are much too long for him.

When he reaches his locker to retrieve a pair of gym shorts, he notices the colourful balls of misshapen chocolates for his friends.

Then there’s that extra batch of cookies that he planned on eating himself, if they weren’t too bitter.

x o x o———x o

Kanda’s pants are thrown back into his face, and as they slide down, his unamused expression darkens.

“What. The fuck. Took so long,” the Asian asked, politely, not waiting to step back into his pants.

“Sorry! I got a little lost without Tim,” Allen apologized insincerely.

“Can you go a day without having your PDA eaten by a cat,” the Asian asks, a remark which the other boy ignores.

“So, uhm…”

“What now.”

“Here,” Allen says, as he offers a bag of cookies adorned in red ribbon. Kanda notices that the boy is no longer wearing a neck ribbon.

”What is that abomination?” Kanda asks warily.

“What do you think?”

“…I fucking hate green eggs and ham.”

“You’d make a terrible rapper, Sam-I-Am,” says Allen as he rustles a cookie out of the bag and practically shoves it down Kanda’s throat.

“…” Kanda’s eyebrow twitches.

“Well?”

“…Is that… matcha?” Kanda asks between bites.

“Yes. Dark and matcha green tea chocolate. What do you think?” Allen asks again, proudly.

“Terrible,” the Asian replies, as he snatches the rest of the bag and eats another one. Of course he wouldn’t admit the combination is genius. He should ask how Allen’s food always manages to taste fine despite always looking like shit. The boy would probably just say “because Kanda’s a shit-for-brains, so it all evens out”, and he decides not to ask.

Allen sighs, exasperated, before he realizes that they fucked before what was meant to be a romantic ritual, and then he sighs again for involving himself further into their messed up relationship. “You know, there’s usually an order to these things.”

“When the fuck do we ever do things in order,” Kanda asks rhetorically.

“Starting now,” the shorter boy replies, as he bites off the other half of the cookie in Kanda’s mouth. He barely has time to look teasing, before the Japanese man brings him back to take his lips again.

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The boy starts rolling his hips on the other’s thigh. The Japanese male’s head falls onto the younger boy’s shoulder, and raises again into his hair to take in the nauseatingly sweet, yet alluring scent.

Allen twists around to face Kanda, and the latter doesn’t waste a second to capture his lips. Hungrily, they devour the other, tongues entwining in a fervent battle. When it finally breaks, they gasp for air. Kanda’s attention turns to the other’s nape, then to nip at his collarbone, and finally to unwind his red ribbon.

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The imaginary wind whistles, and the two at counterpoint are glaring at each other in distaste.

Kanda looks ridiculous in a cowboy hat, really. Gun duels aren’t even really his thing. Allen looks good in anything, even a clown suit, and that pisses him off  that the kid could even make him think that.

The equipment room soccer ball—or as Allen would argue, a foot ball, or as Kanda would argue, a tumbleweed, rolls lazily across the floor. A chair leans adjacent to the door, blocking intruders.

“So,” Allen begins.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” hisses Kanda.

“Running from debt collectors, again. Why do you think we ran for it, buckwheat brains?”

“I don’t know, to change your tampon? How was I supposed to know,” Kanda retorts.

“Did you… Follow me here?” Allen asks cautiously.

“What? No!” Part of the reason I left two days ago was to get the hell away from—”

Allen’s exasperated. “I left last week, just after Alma’s confrontation with you. Why are you running from him again?”

“I left to run away from you!”

No. He didn’t mean to say that.

“I mean—” Kanda starts to explain, but it’s already too late to take it back because Allen is looking at him, really searching him, trying to read his eyes. Worst of all, it’s having an effect, and an unsettling warm courses through Kanda’s body.

The shorter boy approaches him, and with every step, Kanda backs against the wall, until Allen has to close him in with an arm against the wall.

He’s right. Alma was right.

“He’s the reason, isn’t it? The reason you don’t—” the brunet’s voice cracked in Allen’s memory, “Don’t look at me anymore.”

They droop to the floor, and Kanda is cursing underneath his breath. Kanda is cursing, and it isn’t helping it go down.

Allen finally smiles, a bit sad. It eases him a bit to know he wasn’t the only one who was scared. They both practically responded with fight or flight syndrome, and fled, unknowingly in the same direction.

Cupid must really have them cornered with arrows.

Allen almost finds it funny.

Well, screw Cupid. He doesn’t want to be together with someone as hateful as Kanda.

He’ll live his life out with healthy relationships, perhaps marry someone gentle and kind and live in modest happiness.

He turns the other way at the same time Kanda raises his knee, and it accidentally brushes against Allen’s crotch.

“Shit, I didn’t—”

Allen moans slightly, and falls back against the taller male, feeling through fabric a firm and pulsating organ.

And Allen stops thinking clearly as heat overtakes his mind.

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Kanda was finally at peace.

That annoying pair had left, and thank the gods he doesn’t believe in, because he couldn’t stand another minute of their flirting. Wearing his and that moyashi’s looks while acting like a newly-wed couple was absolutely mortifying to watch.

”Finally!” says the same voice concurrently.

The bartender had finally found his target, and the swordsman had finally escaped.

Allen Walker stood between the two. He does wonder about why Kanda’s there as well, and about how the bartender after him and Cross managed to find him… But more importantly, he’s concerned about that same unpleasant voice surrounding him at both sides.

No. He does not need this today. Allen was going to deliver his giri chocolates and that extra to his friends from his previous high school, go to the casino, and then go home.

Kusanagi Izumo blinks awkwardly as he says, “That was…”

“Weird,” Kanda Yuu continues, with the same voice.

“How strange. We sound exactly alike,” the blond claims.

Well, of course. They do share the voice of the sexiest sounding seiyuu in Japan.

Allen turns and dashes to the nearest exit, dragging Kanda along by the wrist.

The bartender pursues them in haste.

x o x o———x o

“Please accept this,” says the swordsman once again, on one knee, offering a beautifully wrapped box of pink and silver.

“Hehe. I’d be glad to,” says Shiro as he takes the box in hand. “Thank you. I was looking forward to it very much!”

Shiro slides off the lid, and inside are an assortment of uniquely decorated chocolates in various shapes.

“Uwaa—! So skilled, as always!” he exclaims, deeply impressed.

Shiro takes a bite of a piece of dark chocolate sprinkled in coconut and silver candied beads, and moans at the deliciousness when the caramel filling seeps through his tongue.

Kuroh’s face heats up.

“These are great!” says Shiro, holding the rest out of the reach of Neko’s paws.

Eventually, Neko has to transform into human form. “Shiro, Shiro! Let me try one!” she pleads, reaching and leaping around, attempting to grab the decadent treats.

“And these are for you,” Kuroh says as he offers a small bag of white chocolate fish-shaped candies.

”Nya!” she cries when she sniffs that familiar scent of catnip. She tackles the bag out of Kuroh’s hand with strings of thank yous, and runs off in feline form, carrying the bag in her mouth…

Leaving the two together, alone.

“Oh…” Shiro says, blushing.

Their gazes connect, and doesn’t break for a moment—they lose track of how long.

Kuroh smiles, and the other boy takes his hand and they head to the rooftop together. Izumo is practically skipping, and the keys jangle in his rear pocket.

The former locks the door behind them.

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The empty palm remains outstretched.

“Do you perhaps… have something for me?”

Kanda is speechless. Shit, he knows, is his first thought. Tsuntsun defense mechanism, is his second.

“Yes. My fist. Would you like me to gift wrap it with your face?” Kanda snaps rudely.

The albino is distraught.

“I… I’m sorry,” says the boy, teary-eyed, “Mou~ I was really hoping I’d get to eat your chocolates…”

“What the fuck makes you think you’d get jack shit from me on Valen—FUCK, OW!!1!1” Kanda cries as the cat bites his accusatory finger.

That day, a cat flies. In mid-air, the cat chokes and spits out Timcanpy. …Great, it’s definitely the moyashi. Despite the weird Noah eyes, lack of scar, and messed up leprosy arm.

Fortunately for the feline, a spatial distortion pulls her into safe hands.

“Eh? Eh—-??” the white haired boy cries as he sees his true vassal approach. “Ah, I’m so sorry! It seems I mistook you for Kuroh… I thought it a bit strange. You’re less like a ‘black dog’ than ‘riled up black cat’. It’s kind of cute.”

Kanda detests this guy to the core. He looks at Kuroh, and notices that he’s a near complete mirror image of himself, and instantly decides he hates him too.

“Don’t. Call. Me. Cute,” he seethes. “And you!” He says to the other swordsman, “I’m shaving you so bald that you’ll look like a cancer patient when I’m done with you, if you think you can get away with copying me.”

“I see. You must be Kanda Yuu. Allen mentioned you. He advises you up your dosage of PMS pills,” informs Kuroh.

“Why you—” he turns to the happy-go-lucky boy beside him, preparing to draw Mugen.

“Ah, I’m Shiro. Please don’t try to hurt me. It won’t work.”

Kanda’s eye twitches.

When he realizes that the presence of Timcanpy means that the real Allen is somewhere inside the building as well, his other eye twitches.

x o x o———x o

Meanwhile…

“Yo—. Have you perhaps seen this boy here before?” the blond bartender asks, smoke leaving his lips in wispy waves.

“Allen… Walker…?”

“Ah, isn’t he that new transfer student that came in last week? He’s the sweetest thing.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll be accepting any more chocolates today, sir…”

“W-Woah, no, wait, I’m n-not—He just has information I need, a-and…” the smoker stutters in defense.

“It’s alright, sir, you’re not the only one. I think he has males in triple digits lining up just to see him smile.”

All of a sudden, the bartender feels uneasy. No, that’s not quite right… He’s terrified.

His sexuality hasn’t been so threatened ever since that infamous information broker from Ikebukuro got involved with HOMRA. The man started hitting on him because he looked like a certain somebody, and it was dangerously tempting. He did not give in. No, he did n—okay, he totally gave in, before the other bartender came in and threw a minibar at him.

“So, where can I find him?”

“Well…”

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Nezumi introduces himself with a bow, and excuses himself and his companion. However, the rest of the group starts chatting like housewives in the same neighbourhood.

“Wow, we look so much alike!” Sion beams.

“…No wonder we were mixed up,” Allen agrees.

“I’m sorry about the confusion. This chocolate is for someone else, who also looks very much like you two,” Kuroh explains.

“I’d like to meet him,” says Sion, curiously.

Allen says, “You’re almost exactly like someone I know… Except you have a much better personality.”

Great, next thing you know they’re going to be sharing recip—

“Oh, these truffles look amazing!” Allen coos as Kuroh shows him the chocolates he made. “What’s in it? How did you make this?”

Oh, god forbid.

Kuroh rambles on about nutella and tempering and it’s all nuttier in more ways than one, while the two white-haired boys ooh and aah. The conversation topic eventually reaches full dinner courses, and then what boy bands they like. Sion asks for sewing advice about a dress he wants Nezumi to wear. Of course, there’s the gossip: “oh, the thing is, he was with this pretty blonde lady who is now a boy. They’re just friends now, but she—I mean he, wants him back. (Blah blah…) And that’s fine, it’s not like there’s something between that bastard and I… I mean—”

Nezumi isn’t even paying attention and even he knows that last line is bullshit.

“Ah, that’s right… Nezumi!” Sion calls. “I have something for you.”

x o x o———x o

Nezumi and Sion stand across from each other inside an empty classroom.

Nezumi briefly considers escaping. Maybe Sion doesn’t know how Valentine’s is supposed to work. Maybe he should get Safu to explain to him—

Sion holds out a case of chocolate filled tarts. In the center of each was a cherry jam heart.

It reminds him of the cherry pie they had the first time they met, and he realizes that Sion is serious. These are honmei chocolates. Nezumi can’t help but smile.

“Mama showed me how to make them. It was fun to make,” says Sion merrily. “…She responded a bit strangely when I said who they were for, though. Hm…”

He takes one, and bites down on the perfectly crisp tart. It’s a perfect blend of sour and sweet.

Sion looks at him expectantly.

“Heh. Not bad.”

Nezumi’s breath stops when Sion smiles brightly at him. He hears pounding, and with each beat of the chest, there’s less and less distance between them before their lips join, and both boys become breathless.

Sion’s tongue roams the other’s mouth, and he tastes both bitter and sweet. It’s addicting, and he forgets to go back for air.

When they finally stop, their foreheads kiss and it’s quiet for a moment as Sion’s in Nezumi’s lap, the other leaning against the wall.

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“Please accept this,” says the swordsman on one knee, offering a beautifully wrapped box of pink and silver.

Freeze frame.

This is Allen Walker, and he has just been offered a suspicious item from the one he swears to be his sworn arch enemy. Though this is not the first box of chocolates from a guy he’s been offered today—okay, this is like the 87th, not including the other 53 from girls and 3 from… god knows what they were.

It doesn’t really make much sense to him that so many people are into him when he just transferred. (One word: Cross. Damned man got into deep shit with this informant. Now this bartender guy is after them for some reason.) And it makes as much sense as Russian sushi that Kanda would follow him to his new school, Ashinaka High.

When time finally flows again, Allen only stutters.

“Erm, uh…? Is this some sort of convoluted, twisted plan to harass me?” Allen accuses. “Because it’s working,” he admits, embarrassed beyond belief.

“Hm? Of course not. You are my king. It is only natural that I would have this prepared for you,” the other sincerely replies.

“Creepy,” Allen comments, goosebumps rising on his skin.

“And I,” spoke another student from behind. Allen turned towards the new presence, and nearly thought he saw double.

“Of gentleman most deject and wretched, that sucked the honey of his music vows…” he recited as if broken by betrayal, “Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh…”

The white-haired boy turned his gaze back and forth between the newcomer and his supposed vassal.

“Oh, woe is me!” the silver-eyed raven cried, “T’ have seen what I have seen, see what I see!”

“I don’t understand anything anymore,” Allen deadpanned, having given up comprehending the situation.

“Ah, with all the words of devotion, I never thought I’d see the day I’d catch you cheating on me,” says the Kanda with the shorter ponytail, disdainfully.

“Words of… devotion? Is this true? Am I not your only knight?” says the Kanda without a straight-cut fringe.

“You,” Allen points to the one still kneeling at his feet, “as a knight in shining armour is just bloody creepy. And you,” he points to the Shakespearian otaku, “are a total fruitcake.”

The white haired boy proceeds to walk away from this madness.

“Wait!”, the twins exclaim.

As the longer-haired raven gripped Allen’s arm, the other raven spat, “Sorry. He’s belongs to me.” They tug the young British boy at both ends and begin to bicker as they fight over him. Allen couldn’t get a single word in.

“Nezumi, that seems fun. May I join in?” says the grinning featherhead that appears out of nowhere.

Nezumi jumps, startled. He looks to Sion, then to the supposed imposter, and back again as he realizes his mistake. “Oh my,” he says. “Now, whom may I ask, are you?”

Allen looks to his doppelganger, and sighs when he understands the situation.

“My name is Allen Walker,” he says sheepishly.