Archive of Our Own

He continues being suspicious for a moment, but ultimately trusts Joshua, and the knowledge that poisoning wasn't really his style. If he wants Neku back in the UG, there's nothing stopping Joshua from rattling another bullet through his poor, pre-punctured brain matter. The old one must still be in there, making him think humoring this conversation was a rational idea that won't just end in a headache.

Joshua smiles, two hands on his own paper coffee cup, fingers striking it in sequence, a steady expectant rhythm. As he watches Neku, the motions change. Taking a sip, the scales shift to an energetic tempo, striking keys he cannot see in time with music he cannot hear. Weirdo.

"What did you want, anyway?" Neku asks, setting the coffee down. There's little point in wasting time on pleasantries when Joshua deemed something catastrophic enough to take the risk of actually talking to him.

"Nothing to say about the coffee?"

"Not really." It's pretty average, as far as coffee goes, and it's not a surprise Joshua knows his order.

Joshua hums, digging his phone out of his pocket and adding to what seems to be, from Neku's view of the phone upside down across the table, a personal review log of local restaurants. "That's hardly a riveting opinion, but I'll include it. We wouldn't want to find Players erased of sheer boredom, would we?"

Whatever UG bullshit Joshua was pursuing, Neku wasn't making it his problem to know. He could guess, but he won't. He won't even think about it. Nope, no dead people business here.

Joshua frowns at him through the silence, bordering on a pout, and sets his phone down. 

Neku tilts his head, gesturing with his free hand.

"Well? Did something happen? Why are we here, Josh? Is reality about to collapse in on itself? Did someone important die? Double die?"

"No, no no no, nothing like that," Joshua says waving off his tone. "Well, people die of course, every day. But that's not my concern." He cuts Neku off before he can reply that yeah, it kind of is, by snatching his phone back off the table and waving it in Neku's face. "I'm here about this."

Oh.

That.

The homoerotic betrayal thing. He'd heard about it after the fact when three of his friends texted him their condolences on losing to Brutus and Caesar. He needed to ask for context, and to be frank, didn't know what to make of the whole thing. He could have gone without knowing that "iconic homoerotic betrayal" was a tournament he'd been nominated in, and privately thinks Joshua has got to find more normal ways of hitting on him. Ways that don't involve firearms.

"Isn't that over?" he asks, with little else to say. If it was over, they shouldn't have to worry about it. Problem solved. Neku out. The arcane and meta machinations of the multiverse can remain not his problem.

"Yes," Joshua says, all business, "but we lost."

"So?"

"So, we lost! After all our fans put in such heartwarming work about us too."

Neku mulls over the word "fans" for a long moment, and decides he doesn't want to consider the implications of that either. He shrugs. "Okay."

"Neku," Joshua says, placing the phone between them and folding his hands loosely over his drink, "I don't think you're taking this very seriously."

"No shit, Sherlock," Neku snaps, indulging that eye roll. "You're not telling me why I should."

"Because we lost," Joshua says, forced patience, as sincere as he ever gets, "and because I have reason to suspect there was UG involvement." He picks up his phone again, opening an app before handing it over. "Take a look. Do any words stand out to you?"

Neku takes the phone, and scrolls slowly, taking his time to make sure there was nothing obvious for Joshua to scold him about missing, and to make him squirm, until he sees a familiar word. "Memes?"

"An astute observation Neku! I knew I'd chosen you for a reason."

He's insufferable. Neku hands the phone back and sinks down in his seat. Unbelievable.

"Memes, yes." Joshua twirls a lock of hair around his index finger, and Neku takes a sip of coffee to disguise how closely he followed the movement.

"You think that we lost because everyone was Imprinted to vote against us?"

"In short, yes again," Joshua says, smiling once more. "Someone put on their thinking cap today."

Asshole. Bastard. Little snot.

Neku takes a deep breath and swallows the growl climbing his throat.

"Explain."

Joshua hums, then shrugs, palms up and put upon. "I believe there was a site-wide Imprinting campaign leading up to the bracket. Disguised as a celebration of the death of Julius Caesar. You of all people know how easily folks can be swayed by a trend." He slumps down onto his elbows, resting his chin in his hands. "Then we lost," he continues, annoyed. "And I don't like losing."

"Obviously. Isn't it kind of far-fetched to Imprint memes on a whole website?"

"You'd be surprised what some of the Higher Plane get up to in their spare time.

"…Right, don't tell me." He doesn't want to hear about angel hobbies. He doesn't want to think about angel hobbies. "I still don't get why you submitted us to that thing in the first place."

"I didn't."

Eye rolls must come in threes. Joshua has the audacity to look affronted.

"Okay. Sure. I'll believe that. Then why is this so important?"

"I can't tell you," Joshua says, gazing meaningfully into the middle distance fingers tangled in a stray lock of hair.

He is so full of shit. There is not one iota of Joshua that isn't composed of compacted, steaming, fresh shit. This is what happens when you cross the guy's competitive streak with a crush. He should confiscate Joshua's phone. Joshua should talk to him more often.

"But! We could get a second chance," Joshua says, affected wistfulness gone. "I know how big a fan you are of second chances. We'll win the revival match." Joshua leans in, devious and conniving across from him, and Neku knows what's coming even before Joshua does a fingergun in his direction. "You will win us the revival match. By any means necessary."

"And how am I going to do that?" Neku crosses his arms.

Another shrug. "Start Imprinting memes on people yourself. Find the culprit rigging things from before. I'm not fussed about the strategy, as long as we win."

Neku closes his eyes. "I don't get a choice here, do I?"

"It's a homoerotic betrayal tournament, Neku. That's against the spirit of it, wouldn't you say?"

"Fair enough." It isn't. Not really. But Neku's learned to pick his battles. He's learned to pick them very well. "But I set the terms."

"Oh?" Joshua's pitch rises in surprise. "Intriguing. Go on."

Neku lifts up a finger. "One. No penalties for losing." Joshua grumbles against his palm. "Two, if we win, you're showing up for group outings. No excuses or leaving early. Spend time with us."

There's unmatched satisfaction in the way Joshua looks like he's swallowed something far too sour. "These aren't very nice terms, Neku."

"Take them or leave them. And no funny business."

"…Fiiiiiiine. I guess you'll just owe me."

Joshua pulls himself from the table and stands, all drawn-out, fluid movements and exaggerated resignation. His coffee sits abandoned on the table, half finished.

"Owe you!?"

"Hee hee. For being so generous, of course. I'll pick you up when the polls open." Joshua touches his sole fingergun to Neku's temple before leaving the cafe and an exasperated, incredulous Neku. "Toodles."