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Vivian thinks that they're a lot like the gears of a machine: they fit together enough to get the job done, but there's some bumping and grinding along the way.
No, not like the dance moves. Okay, maybe kinda like the dance moves. But that's really only when Jounouchi's drunk and Vivian's feeling especially sexy.
Believe it or not, that's not all the time.
Nobody will deny that they shouldn't work. Jounouchi and Vivian. Vivian and Jounouchi.
("We sound like a bad sitcom," she told him once, her limbs draped over his on the couch, and he'd laughed that low laugh of his. The one that draws all the way out until it fades away.
"Maybe we are a bad sitcom,” he’d finally said. “I eat a lot and you can snark in time to laugh tracks."
She'd shrugged, playing with a stray strand of his hair. "I'd watch it.")
They've been discussed many times, in many ways, by many people whose opinions mean nothing to her.
"It's the kind of thing that defies gravity and common sense," Honda had apparently said and, as usual, nobody had really listened.
Shizuka-chan simply avoided her in the moments when they happened to be in the same room, unless Vivian was feeling kinda unavoidable. Even then, though, she’d only receive a polite nod and tight-lipped smiles that didn't reach Shizuka-chan's eyes. It almost made Vivian feel bad. Almost.
"If that's what makes Jounouchi-kun happy, I don't think we ought to interfere," Yuugi had apparently said, which effectively ended all other arguments. Vivian would’ve found that surprising if she didn’t already know Yuugi.
Mazaki Anzu, on the other hand, still had a thing or three to say, some of which are simply not polite to print. Vivian doesn’t remember much of it (something something, don’t you dare hurt him, something something, you have no idea what he’s been through-), but she does remember Mazaki’s disappointed expression as her tirade ended with: "I thought you were Mai-san's friend."
Vivian had smothered the urge to roll her eyes, but also a smidgen of something maybe resembling guilt. Instead, she had opted for a sharp gaze and a clipped tone. “Kujaku Mai didn't take what was waiting for her. All she did was sit around and sigh. Not flattering at her age or for any body type."
"Jounouchi-kun is not one of your silly accessories," Mazaki had snapped, all sparks and spitfire.
Vivian arched a shapely eyebrow at that. "And he's not Mai's."
Granted, Mai had actually done more than just sit around and sigh. It had been Vivian who reached out to Mai, shooting a late-night, cheeky DM suggesting that they team up for an upcoming international Duel Monsters tournament (something something, cash prize, something something, two bad bitches-). For whatever reason, Mai had actually said yes, and the rest was history. Or, perhaps more accurately, geography. They’d whittled away many a late night together, in between duels, in one foreign country or another, trading hours of conversation and more than a few bottles between them. Vivian might’ve even considered them close.
Eventually, after a lot of prodding and a lot of alcohol, Mai had told her about Jounouchi. She only ever talked about him with a faraway look in her eyes that told Vivian she was seeing something that wasn’t there anymore. And when Mai described him, it was always with words that made him sound more mythical creature, something with hair wrought from gold and eyes like cut diamonds, than hotheaded duelist.
“He’s all dumb luck and a big heart, and he’d do just about anything for the people he cares about,” Mai had murmured once, swirling her sweating beer can in distracted circles. "He's honest in the most earnest and sincere way, but also so stupid-"
“Stupidly hot,” Vivian had cut in, scrolling through her image search results and zooming in on a picture of a tall blond with a broad smile and broader shoulders. “I was so preoccupied with Yuugi during the KC Grand Prix that I didn’t even notice.” Mai had clammed up after that, face flushed and gaze pointedly aimed elsewhere.
But she hadn’t disagreed.
(Because it was true. The first time Vivian and Jounouchi had sex was awkward and stilted, right up until she'd pushed him under her and fixed an unamused stare at his bewildered expression.
"If we want this to work, I need to know you’re into it," she'd said, leaning over him with her back arched in that way she knew made her tits look great. "I'm not doing this to just admire your killer abs while you still have clothes on."
That had dragged his eyes up from her chest and made him grin, a lopsided, rueful thing that made her stomach do a stupid little flip. "And what is this?" he'd asked her softly.
His eyes and skin were warm as she leaned in and pushed her mouth to his.
"Whatever we want it to be.")
Mai and Vivian had parted ways richer and better traveled than when they’d met. But Mai was no longer the aloof, mysterious woman Vivian had thought her to be. Instead, in Vivian’s eyes, she had become something smaller, duller. Someone flawed and fallible. Someone real. Thus disillusioned and disenchanted, Vivian had gone home straight from the airport and flopped face-first into bed, exhausted and indecisive about what she was going to do next.
She woke up the next morning with makeup smudged on her pillow and the knowledge that she was going to find out if Jounouchi Katsuya was really as good as she'd heard.
She'd tied her hair in a low ponytail draped artfully over her shoulder and worn a cute denim skirt with her favorite pair of wedges. Her eyeliner was winged to a perfect point. A few well-aimed search results later, Vivian was at Jounouchi's apartment, confidently ringing the doorbell.
It was kind of like a job interview. Posing and preening to secure a position, workplace benefits include paid time off and fucking your boss. Or coworker, maybe? Trainee?
(whatever, when someone dangles something in front of you, something too good to be true, you take it)
It was 10:30AM on a Saturday and he answered the door too slowly for her liking. His hair was rumpled, his shirt was wrinkled, and he’d paused uncertainly in his own doorway, squinting at her in the morning light.
"…I know you," Jounouchi had grunted eventually, his voice soft and sleep-rough. “…Wong Vivian…?”
He looked vulnerable. Defeated, if anything. Nothing like the glowing picture Mai had painted.
Or maybe this was the picture Mai had actually painted when she’d left him behind: something colored with hasty goodbyes and a metric ton of unresolved tension.
(something something, waste not want not, something something, why don’t we all just grow the hell up and move the fuck on?)
"Hey,” she’d beamed. “I’m a friend of Mai’s. You want to let me in?"
Jounouchi had frowned slightly at that, shadow flitting over sunlight, but hesitated. "…I’m not-"
"Thanks," she'd chirped, and slipped inside like a fish.
("Jounouchi's a good kid," Mai had said, some night when they'd both had almost too much to drink and Vivian had goaded Mai exactly as far as she wanted. "Good to a fault. Childish to a fault. "
"Is that why you left him behind?" Vivian had wanted to know.
Mai shrugged and let out a bitter laugh. "I can't face him, not when the both of us have so much more growing up to do. It’s not like I can promise him anything to wait for."
Vivian, for once, had nothing to say.)
She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. Maybe flirtatious banter, a little push and pull, some running and chasing. Vivian’s fast, even in heels. But Jounouchi hadn't so much as put up a fight. Instead, he had let her plop herself down at his messy kitchen table, walking past her to quietly turn on a dusty coffee maker. She had prattled on about her recent travels, her new dueling strategies, her next modeling gig, all the while silently daring him to show her something. Gold, diamonds, a mythical creature, a man worth pining for. But all Jounouchi had done was mechanically pour two mugs of coffee, set one down in front of her, and fall asleep at the table within the hour.
Vivian had just stared at him, her half-drunk coffee cooling in her mug. The only sounds in the dimly lit apartment were Jounouchi’s leaking faucet and his quiet snores. His brow was furrowed, even in sleep.
Jounouchi Katsuya was not what she had been expecting. He was smaller, duller, flawed, fallible. Real. And that simply wouldn’t do.
So, like any good interviewee, Vivian left a callback number and waited.
"I could've been a murderer, for all you know," she’d said to him over the phone. Jounouchi had called her two days later, both of them balancing the same questions between their teeth.
(something something, why not? something something, what have I got to lose?)
"I doubt you came all the way over here for that," he laughed, but Vivian could just make out something sitting under his words, something cautious and hopeful.
"Well, I certainly didn’t come all the way over there to watch you fall asleep in front of me," she’d taunted.
This made him laugh again, something low and drawn out that made her flush unexpectedly. Then, as it was fading away, he suddenly asked, "You said that you were Mai’s friend, right?” When Vivian said nothing, he took a measured breath, as though bracing himself. “Did…she say anything about me?”
Vivian had kept her smile perfectly in place. There was nobody around to see it.
“Honestly, no,” she’d hummed, checking her nails. “We were too busy drinking and committing other various acts of debauchery.” She paused deliberately, listened to him swallow. “But I’m sure you know I didn’t come over to talk about Mai.”
Three heartbeats of silence, and then-
“Come over."
(“Is this enough for you?” he had asked her once.
She’d stopped, midway into shimmying her skirt back on, and stared at Jounouchi. “Why are you asking me that?” she finally replied, sliding the fabric up her hips and turning to look for her jacket.
“…Sorry.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” She found the jacket in a puddled heap under his desk.
She was tying up her hair when he blew out a breath, shifting in his bed to sit up. “Good luck on your photoshoot.”
Vivian rolled her eyes. “As if I need it.” Then, before he could say anything else, she had crossed the length of the room and leaned over him. “Jounouchi,” she murmured, hovering a hair’s breadth from his lips, “as long as you’re not boring me, I don’t give a shit.”
He gave her a lopsided, rueful grin, then kissed her. Slowly, lingering.
“Good enough for me.”)
"You are exactly who you appear to be," Jounouchi tells her, lazily tracing the curve of her bare hip. “That’s what I like best about you.”
It's probably well into the afternoon, judging from the sunny light spilling through his curtains. Somehow, time keeps passing and they keep seeing each other. They've fallen into something comfortable, not quite a routine, not quite on beat, something that Vivian doesn't particularly mind. And in the rare moments she does, she wonders what it is that they're really doing with each other, to each other. She wonders if it even matters.
Vivian turns in his arms, mussing the bedsheets. "And who do I appear to be?" she asks.
He smiles sleepily at her. "Someone sexy as hell, annoying as fuck, and waiting for the next shiny thing to distract her. Flung out of space and somehow stuck to me."
Her stomach does a stupid little flip. "And you're an idiot," she says.
His eyes soften, then shut. "So they tell me."
("Yeah, it's true," Vivian had answered over the phone, in a voice that wasn't hers. "I’m sure Mazaki told you, something along the lines of ‘you were tardy to the party, so Vivian thought she’d try waltzing in,’ but that’s not really my type of dance. I'm more of a bump and grind kinda girl.” She paused for a moment, then scowled. There was nobody around to see it. “Besides, I don’t think I owe anyone an explanation, especially not you."
It was quiet for long enough that she wondered if Mai maybe hung up, but then there was a shaky intake of breath on the line. Vivian's fingers curled, painted nails biting into her palm.
"You’re right.")
"Jounouchi." Vivian nudges at his nose with hers.
"Hm?"
She kisses him slowly, slanting her mouth over his and enjoying how he lets her. She draws back and asks him in a whisper.
"Do you wish we'd fall in love?"
He doesn't open his eyes. "All the time."