Kaiba hated coming to America. He liked Japan. The etiquette rules were known to everyone, and nobody unnecessary dared to interrupt him for anything inane. Though Domino City had the same population by numbers as New York City, it was quieter, neater, cleaner. The people were less obnoxious.
Compared to the neat, well-oiled machine of the Kaiba Corp headquarters in Domino, the American offices were a shambling mess.
"I quit!" his P.A. screamed in his doorway, making a loud, dramatic scene. He didn't look up from his computer screen. "You can pay someone else to be your slave!"
He had to control himself from rolling his eyes. An entitled white woman from a long line of land-owning barons throwing around the word slavery just for the dramatics. He didn't even get his coffee yet. He was rather glad she was quitting.
At long last, her rant finished, and she stood glaring at him furiously.
"Very well," he said in a bland, neutral tone. "You can forgo your benefits in exchange for the lack of two weeks' notice. You may vacate the building; your belongings will be couriered to the address on your personnel file."
What do you know? Her indignation could increase. That was evidently possible. She smashed a priceless antique vase on her way out—he'd never liked Ming pottery, but it had been a gift from a business associate he had mercilessly crushed in a merger three months later.
Once the hallway outside had returned to its usual semi-unproductive hubbub of noise, he pressed the button for his intercom. "Ms Durst. I'll need a new Personal Assistant."
There was only a slight pause. "And where do you suppose I will be summoning one from, Mr Kaiba?" She asked. The sarcastic drawl of his secretary was familiar and welcoming. He liked her. "At noon on a Friday afternoon?"
He scoffed. "Just send me the least incompetent intern we have," he said, and closed the line. He hoped she could, in fact, find one. If he didn't get a coffee in the next hour, he was going to have to ask her and she hated that sort of busy work. It was hard enough to keep his schedule in order.
Seventeen minutes later, the door open and submitted the last person in the world he had expected.
"Caramel mocha, three sugars, with whipped cream on full cream milk. Made at exactly 165 degrees." A paper cup settled on the coaster on the corner of his desk. "The Sakamoto files—someone had filed them under 'chi'. Ms Durst says to tell you that she rescheduled the meeting to a business dinner, and I've booked a banquet room in Kyo Ya."
Kaiba raised his eyes, looking into the face of the most incompetent student he had ever met.
Jounouchi Katsuya smiled. "Was there anything else, sir?"
It took him a moment to find his voice. "Call Blue Moon Agency and inform them I require a booking for tonight."
The slight twitch of fair, blond eyebrows told him that his intern recognised the agency by name. But he wasn't scandalised. "Any preferences?"
"Blond."
Being asked to call an elite male escort service didn't even bat an eye for his apparent least incompetent intern—but that caused an odd quirk of the mouth. Still—Jounouchi Katsuya bowed, in the Japanese way, and backed out of the room without turning his back.
The coffee was perfect.
Many people, including most of his ex-partners, considered Kaiba Seto a mystery. He rather believed he was simple to understand—people just did not like what he was.
To start with, he liked competence. Nothing calmed him faster than someone who could do what they were supposed to do and did it with no prompting. Above that, he was attracted to those who did what they were good at with particular finesse.
When Jounouchi Katsuya had swept into his office, with his perfect coffee, the file his PA was quitting over that had been missing for two weeks, and a reservation for the restaurant he'd been wanting to go to for three years, Kaiba had popped a boner so fast it had made his head spin.
Jounouchi (or Wheeler as he was known to the higher ups, and Joey by the people on his same rung of the business ladder) wasn't meant to be good at his job. It was incongruent with his mental picture of the dumb blond duellist who won through pure luck of the draw. He'd always been objectively aware that Jounouchi was good-looking, he had all he marks of a conventionally attractive (white enough to be passing, but with just enough marks of his Japanese heritage to give him the exoticism they fetishized hypocritically). But that had never mattered.
'Jou-kun' had been a terrible student, a pathetic duellist and a comparatively lousy fighter—he didn't give a shit about 'friendship' or 'loyalty' so those things he'd been arguably good at were completely irrelevant to him. There had been nothing for Kaiba to admire, ergo nothing for him to be attracted to.
Wheeler was not just the least incompetent intern in the American office, he was the second best Personal Assistant he had. He knew what Kaiba needed, if not before he needed it, within a few words. And he was American enough to be able to get it out of the people who he needed. And he always had Kaiba's coffee, just as he liked it, whenever he was beginning to crave one.
Kaiba fucked his way through several particularly talented sex professionals, all of them blond. That, he supposes, is one of the other things people don't want to know about him. He is very promiscuous and, in most cases, entirely uninterested in any sort of committed attachment. Sex professionals—prostitutes, if you want to be specific about their domain—are the preferred option.
Not to say he hasn't had lovers, but that was rare.
He kept his attraction unspoken, and unacted upon. The last thing he needed to make his time in America more complicated was a sexual harassment case.
The first time they had sex, they do it pressed up against the glass window of the office. They'd just pulled off a risky business move on a tight deadline, in utter secrecy with just the two of them. Wheeler's competence had left him soaking his pants with pre-cum and almost shaking with desire.
He assumed Wheeler was oblivious to it. So he was shocked when the blond rested against the desk beside him and smirked, asked "so should I call Blue Moon to help you take care of that, or do you want me to?"
It was hard and fast. Wheeler was tight and eager, naked except for the shirt half-hanging from his arms. Kaiba had only paused long enough to undo his fly to get himself out. Contrary to popular belief, he isn't a selfish bastard—he makes the blond cum, and hard.
Afterward, Wheeler sat leaning against the window, slowly buttoned up his shirt, watching Kaiba as he leaned against the desk with a bottle of water exactly ten degrees below room temperature. "That was fun," he declared. "Little more prep next time?"
"Next time?" Kaiba echoed, watching him warily.
Wheeler shrugged. "Who doesn't like a bit of no-strings attached fucking?" He reached for his boxers to tug them over his legs. "Or I can keep calling you blond rent boys to keep your hotel bed warm." A sly smirk crossed his lips, "or both. That's your business."
"That wouldn't bother you?" Kaiba asked, more surprised than anything.
"You use condoms with them?"
He cut Wheeler with an angry look. "Of course."
"You gonna keep using condoms with me?"
"Obviously."
"Then like I said. Your business." The blond shimmied into his tight jeans (Kaiba loved casual Friday asses) and stood up, zipping them closed. "You have a reservation for 8pm at the Waldorf Astoria. Bull and Bear. Call me if you need anything, otherwise…see you Monday."
They fuck. Regularly, often. Eagerly, pleasurably. Non-committal.
Wheeler doesn't expect anything from him. Not even for Kaiba to get him off when they're fucking. It gave Kaiba the weird urge to spoil him.
He made the blond cum at least once per session, twice if the blond could manage it. He bought him new work suits, gifted him the latest prototypes of KC-Phones, a watch that was worth more than most salarymen made in their lives.
Wheeler took everything with the same sort of happy smile. Pleased and flattered—and showing every moment that it was unexpected attention.
One evening, late into the night, well after business hours, they're lying on the floor of Kaiba's office. Surrounded by a tangle of clothes, breathing slowing down from frantic ecstasy.
Wheeler groaned, stretching his arms and letting one rest by his head. The other loosely rested on his stomach. "Are you still seeing other people?" He asked, his voice idle and disinterested.
Kaiba grunted, watching him warily. "Yes." He said it in a flat voice, the one he knew usually brooked no arguments.
"Good." Wheeler yawned. "All these gifts I was starting to think you were baiting for something." He sat up, glancing at the watch. "It's getting late. Janitor will be pissed if we keep occupying the room for much longer."
Kaiba grunted. "I hate America. Everybody's always in such a rush." He grabbed his boxers and trousers, redressing.
"You know," the blond said, buttoning up his shirt, "hotel rooms have these nice 'do-not-disturb' signs." He smirked. "And room service. And beds."
Blue eyes roved lazily over to him as they adjusted his buckle. "That's the first time you've ever asked me for something."
"I didn't ask anything." He rolled his eyes. "But I didn't hint something, yes."
Kaiba smirked. "Well, Joseph Wheeler," he said, prowling close to him. "I might be inclined to give you what you want," he said carefully, "but first…you have to learn to ask for it."
"Fuck!" Wheeler cried out, having dissolved into Japanese somewhere around the second hour, "Kaiba! Let me cum!"
He pulled away, licked his lips again, and sat up. "You're learning," he said smugly. He reached up, and with a tug, he undid the ribbon tied around Wheeler's cock and balls. He moved back to work, fucking Wheeler with his tongue and pumping him with a steady fist.
He watched the balls draw up and cum spill out of his cock from up close and personal. Then he pulled away and wiped his mouth clean. "How many is that now?" He asked.
Wheeler gave a weak laugh. "Do you mean today or so far this week?"
It's December 27th. Business shut down three days ago, and Kaiba had been in bed with this blond for two of them. Christmas in America was tiresome. Business had to shut down for a whole week until the new year.
Kaiba had lasted exactly one night alone and bored out of his mind before he'd called the blond. And since then… well.
"Twelve, and two," Wheeler answered anyway rolling his eyes. "Are you trying to prove something, or…?"
"I like making you cum," Kaiba said smugly. "Usually I can only manage one or two. This is fun."
"So why count them?" He groaned, tugging the sheets over his body.
Kaiba just tugged them off again. "If you're cold, I can turn the thermostat up."
"You're going to chafe my dick," he complained. "And I'm hungry."
"You know where the phone is."
Wheeler snickered, and tugged at his wrists, tied to the bedpost with two expensive silk ties. "I'm a little tied up at the moment, boss."
Kaiba ran his fingers through the congealed mess of cum clinging to the blond's skin. "I told you, Joseph Wheeler. I'll give you everything you want. All you have to do it ask for it."
"Kaiba," he said, his voice taking a seductive curl. "Untie me so I can order food. Please."
He groaned. "When you say it like that, you make me want to keep you for a while longer."
"Long enough to fuck?"
"You know me so well."
The restaurant was hushed, conversations hardly audible over the tinkle of keys from the pianist in the corner. Across the table, Jou was just finishing up his pitifully small portion of linguini. He set his fork and spoon down, sitting back in his seat.
Kaiba surveyed him over the rim of his champagne glass. He hadn't been able to convince Wheeler to share a glass with him, so he'd rearranged some plans with the waitress while he was visiting the bathroom.
"Ready for dessert?" He asked.
"Dessert too?" Wheeler asked, lips curling up in an affectionate smile. "Is it a special occasion or something? Our anniversary isn't for another month."
Kaiba curled his lips up in a smile. "If you don't order dessert, then I don't get to order my 'Death by Chocolate' mud-cake. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"
Wheeler laughed. "Alright, honey." He sat back in his seat, lazily eyeing the wait-staff to see if he could catch their eye.
A busboy came, cleared their dishes away, reset their cutlery for dessert. Wheeler sipped at his glass of juice. He was wearing one of the nice suits Kaiba bought for him, and his modern haircut was trendily tousled at the top.
The waitress brought over a pre-prepared plate.
"What's this?" Wheeler asked, confused. "Did you pre-order it?"
Kaiba curled his lips up in a smile. "Read it."
Wheeler's eyes dropped down to the plate and went wide. In the middle of a heart painted in chocolate icing at a dark blue ringtone. Nice touch that one. He'd leave a hearty tip.
"Seto," Wheeler said, his voice breathless. "Is this…?"
"Open it."
He picked it up in careful fingers and cracked it open. He gasped.
"Will you marry me?" He asked.
"Yes!" he yelled eagerly. "Oh, yes!"
The people around them applauded, some tinkling their glasses. Wheeler leaned across the table to meet him in an eager kiss. He takes off the ring and slips it onto his finger, grinning widely.
"Can we get the bill? Go back to the hotel room?" A slight blush dusted across his cheeks.
Kaiba signals for it, hands over his credit card without looking for the total.
Ten minutes later they're in the back of a towncar. Kaiba is inspecting the bill, making calculations. "They comped our drinks," he pointed out.
Wheeler snorted, loosening his tie. "Well. It was a somewhat romantic fake proposal," he said.
"You're the one who booked the reservation," Kaiba pointed out. "Told them it was for a surprise proposal."
"Bella Notte is an extremely exclusive restaurant. I needed a reason to pull strings. You didn't have to go through with it." He lifted a hand, looking at the diamond ring settled on his finger. "Why'd you even have this on you?"
Kaiba turned his head, looking at the city lights streaking by. "I'm going to propose to the man I've been dating seriously. I had Mokuba get this out of storage and send it to me."
Wheeler slipped the ring off his finger, pressing it back into the cushion of the ringbox. "Who's Haruto?"
Kaiba tensed. "My father." He watched Wheeler's forehead wrinkle. "Before the orphanage."
"Oh." He closed the box and passed it back, avoiding Kaiba's eyes. "I hope whoever he is appreciates the heirloom."
They were silent until they parked outside Kaiba's hotel.
"Kaiba," Wheeler said in a quiet voice. "I'm into the whole open relationship thing, you know that."
"I have become aware of it."
"But I don't do married guys."
Kaiba turned to glare at him, one hand on the door. "What are you doing?"
"Letting you know," he continued flatly, "that when you put a ring on it, this thing we have is done."
Kaiba glared at him. Hard.
"Everybody's got their hard lines, Kaiba."
He pushed the door open. "Fine."
He didn't invite Wheeler upstairs to his hotel room.
The door to his office exploded open. Kaiba looked up from his paperwork with a blank look. "Aster."
The tall, handsome socialite stormed across the room and slammed his hands down on the surface of his desk. "You've been sleeping around!"
"Yes," he said, disinterested. "Why are you here?"
"To confront you!" Aster yelled furiously. "How dare you cheat on me?"
Kaiba flicked his fingers. Wheeler rose from his seat on the couch, and closed the doors of the office. It wasn't entirely soundproof, but it would give them some privacy.
"It's not cheating, Aster," he answered. "We never agreed to be in an exclusive relationship."
"Who is it?" Aster demanded, slamming his hands again. "Who else have you slept with?"
"I can have my personal assistant compile you a list, but it may take a while." He glanced at the man over the rim of his glasses. "It would be quite lengthy."
Aster looked disgusted. "In the last week," he snarled. "How many?"
"Two," Kaiba replied.
"Who else?" Aster demanded furiously.
Kaiba rolled his eyes, and pointed a delicate finger at Wheeler, who gave an absent wave from the couch once again.
"This skinny twink?" Aster demanded. "What the fuck does he have that I don't?"
In a low, sarcastic voice, Wheeler muttered in Japanese: "a healthy understanding of polyamorous relationships."
Kaiba snorted at that.
"What?" Aster demanded. "What did he say?
He looked at the man. "It doesn't translate." He folded his paperwork back into the manila folder and offered it to Wheeler. "Fax these to Isono and then file them please, Wheeler."
"Yes, Mr Kaiba." The blond took the folder from him and walked out of the office.
"What do you want, Aster?" He demanded impatiently. "It can't be money; you have almost as much as I do. So precisely what is it do you want?"
"I want a respectable marriage and security," Aster snarled.
Kaiba laughed. "You can't possibly think you would get that from me, Aster." He linked his fingers together and smirked at him. "I have a much more respectable marriage lined up in Domino City. With the son of a prominent businessman whose merger with my company will make me one of the most powerful men in Japan."
"You bastard!" the man snarled. "You played me! And you're playing your little twink too!"
"Wheeler and I are the same age." He slid his glasses off his nose and rested them on the desk. "And I'm not 'playing' him. He is well aware of the specifics of our relationship. As were you, before you decided you needed to play this little mindgame."
Aster sneered. "Yeah. Well. We'll see how well the press likes your little games."
Kaiba laughed. "Yeah. I suppose we will."
Kaiba bought out enough reporters they didn't print Aster's story. He didn't get his five minutes of fame, Kaiba kept his reputation. Wheeler's name stayed as obscure as ever.
