Meme fic for Miki!
Welp, this has been looonngg overdue. PRESENTING the Honda/Malik fic for that meme I stole from chez_maltesers a while ago. (Yeah, remember that one? XD)
For you, Miki-chan. ^____^ *glomps*
---
Growing impatient, Honda tapped his foot restlessly as he stood on the crowded sidewalk in Monopoly City. The weather was bordering on an all-out heatwave, and tell-tale sweat beaded down Honda’s jawline and dripped down into the folds of his shirt. He was sticky, tired and sweating like a pig -- he knew he’d been waiting too long. Really, what did it take to catch a friggin’ TAXI around here?
Suddenly, he spotted another taxi and waved, only for it to whiz past him again.
And again.
“Rassum frassum...” Honda mumbled. Since he was too stubborn and lazy to look for a payphone, Honda leaned against a lamppost and decided to wait for a taxi to drive by and drop off a passenger... then, he figured, he’d AMBUSH the driver before the poor sucker had a chance to--
“Can’t get a cab, huh?” said a voice, interrupting his thoughts.
Puzzled, Honda turned to find somewhat familiar face: a fellow teenager, tanned, with sandy blonde hair and sporting most curious-looking face tattoos. And said teenager was seated on, if Honda could allow himself to say, one of the MEANEST-looking performance cruisers he’d ever seen.
“Hey... Malik, right?” said Honda, tilting his head.
The teenager nodded. “And you’re...”
“Honda,” he replied, rolling his eyes with a slight smile. They’ve been through the same introductions for quite some time... but then again, Honda figured the two of them both weren’t keen on remembering names to begin with. “Anyway, yeah,” said Honda, looking over sullenly at the traffic circulation. “Those TAXIS brush me off like a leper left to die.”
Malik snickered a little. “You headed back to Domino City?” he asked, smirking up at Honda.
“Yeah,” said Honda, sheepishly rubbing his head. “A friend had to borrow my bike, so I’m on my own for a while.”
Malik raised an eyebrow. “Rather charitable of you.”
Honda shrugged. “Eh, he needed a ride, and --”
“Looks like you need one yourself.” Malik gave a short nod at his cruiser in an unspoken invitation to hop on.
Honda startled a little, before taking a closer look at Malik’s bike. “Hey, that a Warrior?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Midnight Edition,” said Malik with a slight grin. Honda nodded in reply, and couldn’t help but admire the design of the bike: the engine was tightly packed into the chassis, giving it a sleek appearance; and nearly everything, from the wheels to the handlebars, was colored stark black. No doubt in Honda’s mind, this bike was badass.
“It’s nice. Real nice,” said Honda, trying not to gush.
“Thanks.” Malik smiled, looking a little embarrassed, in Honda’s opinion. “Yamaha’s got good stuff.”
“Just Yamahas?” said Honda, with feigned indignation. “There’s brands with better horsepower, like Harley-Davidson, or heh, Honda Motors.”
Malik, still smiling, shook his head. “Not interested.”
Honda grinned back. “Not even a Honda VTX? You’re missing out...”
“Maybe...” said Malik, with casual shrug. Then he cleared his throat abruptly. “Anyway, you coming?” he asked, nodding again at the backseat of his bike.
“Uh, but...” said Honda, protesting.
“Really, I insist,” Malik replied. By the sound of his tone, it seemed like there was no other option.
“O...okay, uh... thanks,” said Honda, and swung a leg over the bike, slipping in behind Malik. It was if the Egyptian boy had still retained his persuasive force from his days of wielding the Millennium Rod.
“Hold on,” said Malik, as he thumbed the starter. Honda nodded, and reached back to grab a portion of the seat for typical manly purchase. Suddenly, Malik turned around and yelled over the noise of the engine; “There’ll be curvy roads ahead -- You better hold on to me!” Honda quirked an eyebrow at the strange request (especially since there were no such roads on the highways), but conceded, settling for a light hold on the other boy’s shoulders. Seemingly satisfied, Malik pulled out of the sidewalk and gently melded into traffic. But when the two riders reached the expressway, the throttle was hammered, and they soon blazed down the road at an eye-watering speed that made even Honda uneasy. With that kind of acceleration, Honda figured, no wonder Malik asked him to hold --
“AWP!!” Honda let out a squawk as Malik made an unexpected lane change -- and then switched back again, weaving in between traffic not unlike a drunken seamstress.
Malik looked back with a grin at Honda, now clutched to him like a baby koala. “You okay back there!” he asked, yelling over the noise.
“Yeah -- just slow down, will you!” Honda shouted, still glued to Malik’s back.
Malik laughed in reply. “Told you we’d be hitting curvy roads!”
Honda was going to reply, when he inwardly shrugged and decided to let the subject drop. The rest of the ride went somewhat smoothly for Honda, until he suddenly noticed the Domino City exit sign whiz past them. “Hey,” said Honda, with a backward glance, “we just missed our exit!”
“Whoops, sorry!” Malik replied. And Honda could have sworn he saw a glimmer of a smile on the other boy’s face.
After the speedy, yet rather lengthy ride (Malik kept on passing all the nearby exits), they finally got to Honda’s neighborhood. “Yeah, turn right ahead.... okay, we’re here,” said Honda, finally taking his hands off Malik’s shoulders. “Thanks for the ride, huh?” said Honda, stepping off onto the curb.
Malik gave a slight nod, looking ahead at the road. “No problem. It’s more fun to ride with a passenger.”
Honda laughed. “I guess. And now I can see why you wanted a Yamaha Warrior instead of something like a Harley-Davidson Streetrod; the Warrior’s best in agility for riding twisty roads, heh.”
“Right,” replied Malik, running a hand through his hair. He was still gazing ahead at the street. “Still, in all honestly, I’d like to ride a Honda someday.”
Honda smirked. “Changed your mind, then? I thought you said you weren’t interested in getting a Honda-brand bike.”
Malik looked at him then, with a most devious grin. “I’m not.” And with a brief nod and a rumbling of the starting bike, he was off.
Honda stood there, dumbfounded. Then he grinned abashedly and ambled off into his house, rubbing his head in wonder.
Nevertheless, he figured as strange as that bike ride was, it sure beat a taxi, no contest.
---
For you, Miki-chan. ^____^ *glomps*
---
Growing impatient, Honda tapped his foot restlessly as he stood on the crowded sidewalk in Monopoly City. The weather was bordering on an all-out heatwave, and tell-tale sweat beaded down Honda’s jawline and dripped down into the folds of his shirt. He was sticky, tired and sweating like a pig -- he knew he’d been waiting too long. Really, what did it take to catch a friggin’ TAXI around here?
Suddenly, he spotted another taxi and waved, only for it to whiz past him again.
And again.
“Rassum frassum...” Honda mumbled. Since he was too stubborn and lazy to look for a payphone, Honda leaned against a lamppost and decided to wait for a taxi to drive by and drop off a passenger... then, he figured, he’d AMBUSH the driver before the poor sucker had a chance to--
“Can’t get a cab, huh?” said a voice, interrupting his thoughts.
Puzzled, Honda turned to find somewhat familiar face: a fellow teenager, tanned, with sandy blonde hair and sporting most curious-looking face tattoos. And said teenager was seated on, if Honda could allow himself to say, one of the MEANEST-looking performance cruisers he’d ever seen.
“Hey... Malik, right?” said Honda, tilting his head.
The teenager nodded. “And you’re...”
“Honda,” he replied, rolling his eyes with a slight smile. They’ve been through the same introductions for quite some time... but then again, Honda figured the two of them both weren’t keen on remembering names to begin with. “Anyway, yeah,” said Honda, looking over sullenly at the traffic circulation. “Those TAXIS brush me off like a leper left to die.”
Malik snickered a little. “You headed back to Domino City?” he asked, smirking up at Honda.
“Yeah,” said Honda, sheepishly rubbing his head. “A friend had to borrow my bike, so I’m on my own for a while.”
Malik raised an eyebrow. “Rather charitable of you.”
Honda shrugged. “Eh, he needed a ride, and --”
“Looks like you need one yourself.” Malik gave a short nod at his cruiser in an unspoken invitation to hop on.
Honda startled a little, before taking a closer look at Malik’s bike. “Hey, that a Warrior?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Midnight Edition,” said Malik with a slight grin. Honda nodded in reply, and couldn’t help but admire the design of the bike: the engine was tightly packed into the chassis, giving it a sleek appearance; and nearly everything, from the wheels to the handlebars, was colored stark black. No doubt in Honda’s mind, this bike was badass.
“It’s nice. Real nice,” said Honda, trying not to gush.
“Thanks.” Malik smiled, looking a little embarrassed, in Honda’s opinion. “Yamaha’s got good stuff.”
“Just Yamahas?” said Honda, with feigned indignation. “There’s brands with better horsepower, like Harley-Davidson, or heh, Honda Motors.”
Malik, still smiling, shook his head. “Not interested.”
Honda grinned back. “Not even a Honda VTX? You’re missing out...”
“Maybe...” said Malik, with casual shrug. Then he cleared his throat abruptly. “Anyway, you coming?” he asked, nodding again at the backseat of his bike.
“Uh, but...” said Honda, protesting.
“Really, I insist,” Malik replied. By the sound of his tone, it seemed like there was no other option.
“O...okay, uh... thanks,” said Honda, and swung a leg over the bike, slipping in behind Malik. It was if the Egyptian boy had still retained his persuasive force from his days of wielding the Millennium Rod.
“Hold on,” said Malik, as he thumbed the starter. Honda nodded, and reached back to grab a portion of the seat for typical manly purchase. Suddenly, Malik turned around and yelled over the noise of the engine; “There’ll be curvy roads ahead -- You better hold on to me!” Honda quirked an eyebrow at the strange request (especially since there were no such roads on the highways), but conceded, settling for a light hold on the other boy’s shoulders. Seemingly satisfied, Malik pulled out of the sidewalk and gently melded into traffic. But when the two riders reached the expressway, the throttle was hammered, and they soon blazed down the road at an eye-watering speed that made even Honda uneasy. With that kind of acceleration, Honda figured, no wonder Malik asked him to hold --
“AWP!!” Honda let out a squawk as Malik made an unexpected lane change -- and then switched back again, weaving in between traffic not unlike a drunken seamstress.
Malik looked back with a grin at Honda, now clutched to him like a baby koala. “You okay back there!” he asked, yelling over the noise.
“Yeah -- just slow down, will you!” Honda shouted, still glued to Malik’s back.
Malik laughed in reply. “Told you we’d be hitting curvy roads!”
Honda was going to reply, when he inwardly shrugged and decided to let the subject drop. The rest of the ride went somewhat smoothly for Honda, until he suddenly noticed the Domino City exit sign whiz past them. “Hey,” said Honda, with a backward glance, “we just missed our exit!”
“Whoops, sorry!” Malik replied. And Honda could have sworn he saw a glimmer of a smile on the other boy’s face.
After the speedy, yet rather lengthy ride (Malik kept on passing all the nearby exits), they finally got to Honda’s neighborhood. “Yeah, turn right ahead.... okay, we’re here,” said Honda, finally taking his hands off Malik’s shoulders. “Thanks for the ride, huh?” said Honda, stepping off onto the curb.
Malik gave a slight nod, looking ahead at the road. “No problem. It’s more fun to ride with a passenger.”
Honda laughed. “I guess. And now I can see why you wanted a Yamaha Warrior instead of something like a Harley-Davidson Streetrod; the Warrior’s best in agility for riding twisty roads, heh.”
“Right,” replied Malik, running a hand through his hair. He was still gazing ahead at the street. “Still, in all honestly, I’d like to ride a Honda someday.”
Honda smirked. “Changed your mind, then? I thought you said you weren’t interested in getting a Honda-brand bike.”
Malik looked at him then, with a most devious grin. “I’m not.” And with a brief nod and a rumbling of the starting bike, he was off.
Honda stood there, dumbfounded. Then he grinned abashedly and ambled off into his house, rubbing his head in wonder.
Nevertheless, he figured as strange as that bike ride was, it sure beat a taxi, no contest.
---