#polycanons

There is nothing better than a friend, unless it’s a friend with chocolate. ~ Linda Grayson

You’d been feeling kind of lousy most of the week. Your stomach always felt just a touch queasy and your head hurt. You figured maybe you were just coming down with some silly bug going around and that, if you took good enough care of yourself, being careful about what you ate, staying hydrated and making sure you got plenty of sleep, the feeling would pass quickly without you ever getting actually sick. You were so sure that just taking care of yourself and getting some rest would solve everything that when Byakuran asked you if you wanted to go to this crazy event at the arcade the two of you often frequented, which promised to be a blast – debuting new games, including a laser tag arena, with catering by one of your favourite restaurants, all of it open all night long for the first time? How could you turn that down? – you, of course, happily and readily agreed.

You never did feel entirely better though. In fact, you felt a whole lot worse rather quickly. And not just physically. Your heart sank and you felt horrible as you texted Byakuran the morning of the arcade party, cancelling on him with only the briefest of explanations – ‘it’s that time again’.

You sighed, glaring down at the red, wet stain covering your pajama pants. That was going to be such a pain to clean up. And your stomach was already starting to cramp. You knew the cramps would only get worse too. They always did. Your only source of comfort as you cleaned yourself up and settled yourself onto your couch, hot water bottle firmly pressed against your stomach, was that Byakuran would understand. You knew he would. He’d been one of your closest friends for a long time and he’d seen you through some horrible periods. He knew you couldn’t go out easily when they happened. But still, you felt so upset and depressed about having to cancel, at the thought of him having so much fun without you, that you simply turned off your phone, not wanting to read any texts or updates from him or other friends whose days were going so much better than yours. You simply retreated, curling up under your blanket, hot water bottle against your skin, napping on and off in between reruns of cheesy old sitcoms, your phone a useless lump of metal and plastic, pushed down into the crevice between two cushions.

Which explained why you had no idea what was happening later that night, when you were pulled out of a light catnap by a loud thumping at your door. You checked the clock on the wall hurriedly…now who would be knocking on the door at this time of the night? Whoever it was, they certainly weren’t stopping. If anything the knocking was getting louder. As you made your way closer to the door, you had to grin, even through the horrible cramping that had you almost doubling over as you walked.

“(Y/N)~! LET ME IN, (Y/N)! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! LET ME IN, LET ME IN!”

You giggled as you flicked the lock, opening the door to find Byakuran on your doorstep, hands full of plastic bags. He swept by you, hurrying into your house so he could set the bags down. He didn’t even bother looking at you, his mouth running a mile a minute, his tone so cheerful. You couldn’t get a word in edgewise and you knew by now that it was pointless to even try anyway. You simply let him keep talking until he stopped, his jacket and boots now off, his mouth a wide grin as he stared at you, waiting for you to say it.

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at the arcade?”

“Without my best friend? What kind of friend would that make me?”

“Your usual self?”

“I’m insulted! And after all I’ve done~!” Byakuran pouted, his tone distinctly teasing. “Maybe I should just take all this stuff and leave then~!”

“What stuff?” you asked, sinking back down onto the couch, Byakuran grabbing the bags and following you, his threat to leave simply him being dramatic, something the two of you knew quite well.

“Horrible, grisly, bad horror movies,” he declared gleefully, pulling out some B-rated 90’s horror movies, a real weakness of yours that he shared.

“New video-games,” he added, pulling more and more out of the bags.

“Candy.” Another pile of stuff on your coffee table.

“Snuffles.” A little grayish stuffed bunny, Byakuran’s stuffed animal from when he was younger, which you knew was often hidden in his closet, ready to be pulled out whenever he was sick, joined the crowd of stuff.

“And, of course, chocolate. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t bring someone on their period chocolate, after all?” he teased as he drew out a handful of king-sized chocolate bars and a couple of plastic wrapped giant triple-chocolate cookies from a local grocery store.

You simply stared at him, barely able to keep from grinning back at him. God, he might drive you crazy every now and then but you couldn’t help thinking that you really had lucked out when it came to having Byakuran as your best friend.

“So what first?” he asked you.

“I think chocolate. Chocolate always deserves first place.”

“And here I thought I deserved first place.”

“Fine, fine. Chocolate deserves second place then. You can have first.”

****************************************

It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn’t use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like “how about lunch?” ~ A.A. Milne

Ganauche hummed as he headed through the halls towards your office. He hadn’t seen much of you lately. That was okay though. The two of you had been friends for so long that you could go days without seeing each other without worrying about the state of your friendship. He’d been busy for the last month or so, rather lousy company most of the time he was with you, but things had finally slowed down recently. After a week or so of him just being lazy, doing nothing, he felt like company and he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather share his cheerful mood with than you.

Or so he’d thought. It only took one look at your face as he walked into your office to know that you weren’t going to be sharing in his cheerful mood right that second. You’d probably kill him for looking so cheerful, if the vehement glare at your computer screen and the dark muttering he could barely hear (and very R-rated muttering if he was hearing at all correctly) was anything to go by. He made every attempt he could to wipe his happy grin off his face. It wouldn’t do to look perky and peppy when you were obviously this miserable.

He did hate seeing you look so unhappy though. He couldn’t let you stay this way…not that he was planning on it. He knew just what to do.

Ganauche sauntered up to your desk, resting a hip against the corner of it and smiling slightly down at you.

“How about lunch?” he asked, winking at you.

You simply nodded.

Fast forward two hours and the two of you had lots of delicious food and plenty of liquor in your stomachs, sunlight on your skin, and smiles on your faces as the two of you laughed and joked, catching up as you walked along the little side-streets around the café district.

Now this, he thought, was much better. This was exactly how you were supposed to look.

He wasn’t too happy though as your smile slipped, your eyes catching sight of your watch as you lifted an arm to block the sun from your eyes a bit.

“I guess I should get back,” you said, a small sigh accompanying your words.

“Yeah, I guess you should. If that’s what you want,” he agreed, though he personally hated to interrupt what had been such a spectacular time.

“You know what I really want?” you said, looking up at him with the beginnings of a very sly smile on your face.

Ganauche simply smiled down at you, looking slightly confused.

“Lunch. How about lunch, Ganauche?” you asked, tone all innocence and casualness.

“I think I could do with some lunch.”

****************************************

Friends are people who know you really well and like you anyway. ~ Greg Tamblyn

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling, your teeth clenching automatically in frustration as you watched Xanxus yell at one of his subordinates, his hands tightening almost dangerously around the glass bottle in his hands. You just knew that he was going to throw it any second. And wow, would you look at that? Less than a minute later, the wallpaper was soaked with whiskey, the scent thick in the air, glass scattering across the floor. His subordinate was lucky he had quick reflexes because that one would’ve hurt quite a bit if he hadn’t.

You must have made some kind of sound, though you weren’t aware of doing so because Xanxus’ attention was suddenly focused entirely on you, a petulant scowl on his face, his eyes glaring at you.

“What did you say?” he growled out.

“Nothing,” you said, voicing none of your displeasure over his behavior. It wasn’t because you were afraid of him – you weren’t – but simply because you’d learned by now that it would be easier that way. He’d calm down quicker and peace, or what passed for it around the Varia headquarters, would be restored much quicker than it would be if you made him even angrier.

“Fucking right, it’s nothing,” Xanxus snarled before turning away from you, calling for someone to bring him another bottle of whiskey.

You worried for his liver, you really did.

You worried about a lot when it came to Xanxus though, you really did. Sure he was a gigantic asshole. Sure he was violent and rude and downright psychotic at times. You couldn’t even say for sure why you were friends with him. You just were.

It was something you couldn’t express. Though he might grab you hard enough to bruise you or say horrible things to you, you knew Xanxus wouldn’t hurt you intentionally, not severely at least, neither physically nor emotionally. And you knew that anyone who did try to hurt you might get hurt severely. Because as he was your friend, you were his friend and he really couldn’t show it any other way.

You’d have to say that, if pressed beyond the reasoning that you simply were his friend because you were, you were friends with Xanxus because, somewhere, buried deep, deep, deep, deep, deep beneath all that anger and hatred, he did genuinely care about his friends. You were just lucky enough to be able to see that. Honestly, what you worried about the most in regards to Xanxus was that there wouldn’t be enough people in the world with good enough eyesight to see that as well.

Warning, I am not taking this seriously. At all.

Also, headcanon style, just because it’s easier

-I can totally see the Haha brothers being fandom trash. the other two being dragged in by Toganou-AND NO ONE CAN CONVINCE ME THAT TOGANOU DOES NOT DRAW FANART. His art is amazing, though-They don’t know the others are fandom trash though-Otawara draws terrible fandom art.-Monta is totally into anything about baseball-HAYATO IS FANDOM TRASH. WITHOUT A DOUBT. He writes music fics all the time.-Suzuna totally runs an imagine blog, also a shipping blog.-Taki draws bad fanart too, but it’d probably be better if he actually took it seriously.-They are ALL apart of the football fandom.-Suzuna may or may not write fanfiction shipping people she knows.-I just want to say, Taka secretly writes fluffy fanfictions. He tells literally no one. -Suzuna drags an unwilling Mamori into her fandoms-Jumonji also writes fanfiction, with varied genres, but still. He never tells the other two though.-Kuroki is the one screaming at the drama in fandoms