Disclaimer: Not mine. Boo hoo.

A/N: Started as a drabble, grew a little. I apparently get far too much pleasure from torturing Jounouchi. Written for DragonDancer105. I managed to get in all three prompts, babs.

Fairy Princess

© Scribbler, May 2008.

"Ow." Yuugi clutched the side of his head. "I think my brain just broke."

"Mine's melted," Honda replied. "I can't … believe he actually fitted. Those things are never going to fit her again."

"I don't think she cares." Yuugi peeped out from behind the fingers of his other hand. "She's wearing the scary grin."

Anzu was, indeed, wearing a triumphant smile so robust it bordered on muscular. She raised the tiara and placed it reverentially on Jounouchi's head. "How does that feel, Fairy Princess?"

"Like shit."

"Excuse me?"

"Like shit," he repeated in a dreadful falsetto.

"Good." Anzu surveyed the outfit, adjusting the spaghetti straps and plucking at the pink tutu to fluff it out more, and proclaimed the ruined tights were worth it. "I'm sure the guys at school will appreciate them, too."

Jounouchi's eyes widened. "No way am I going to school like this!"

"That was the arrangement."

"I think the uniform policy forbids, uh," Yuugi gestured flaccidly, "this sort of … thing."

Anzu considered this. "I suppose you're right, but the terms of the bet said you have to wear it in a public place."

"This is so unfair," Jounouchi groaned in his own voice.

"You were willing to make me wear that stupid Lara Croft outfit if you'd beaten me. Hey, I know." She snapped her fingers. "The arcade!"

"No!"

"Yes! It's perfect!" She grabbed Jounouchi's hand and frog-marched him from the room.

"Shit." Honda ambled after them, hands shoved so deep in his pockets he was almost crawling in after them so nobody they knew could see his face. "Here we go again. Don't these two ever give up?"

Yuugi made to follow, but felt a familiar presence uncoil in his mind that made him pause.

"What's going on?" Yami asked, catching a brief glimpse of Jounouchi's hairy legs stuffed and laced into Anzu's old ballet slippers. The effect was akin to wrapping two hocks of ham in gauze and then rolling them in grease and glitter.

"Anzu and Jounouchi had an arm-wrestling match after he insulted her cooking. It kind of … spiralled," Yuugi explained.

"Oh." There was a beat while Yami processed this. "Aibou, you should advise Jounouchi to keep his mouth shut in future. Did he not learn from the last time, when she made him wear that ridiculous placard announcing he was a campaigner for men's rights at a rally run by those … what were they called?"

"The Women's Liberation Front." The image of Jounouchi amidst the scariest women any of them had ever seen before, cowed completely by their fervour and covered in bruises by the end of the day, is imprinted onto Yuugi's mind. Likewise the sight of him running down the street, pursued by foamy-mouthed radicals, desperately trying to shed the placard and falling over his own feet as he did so.

"Yuugi!" Honda popped his head around the door, expression strained. "C'mon, man, he needs all the support he can get, since he hasn't got any in that damn gusset."

"Coming." Yuugi trailed after his friends, wondering whether Jounouchi would ever learn not to challenge Anzu to arm-wrestling or Honda to paper-scissors-stone.

Fin.