Yu-Gi-Oh is the property of Konami and Kazuki Takahashi, and this work is only a very appreciative celebration, from which we hope to derive no profit of any kind.

Paris mornings dawned foggy in November, and there was no point even bothering to open the velvet curtains that shrouded the windows until at least 11:00 or 12:00, much less trying to make use of the balcony, with its lovely view of the Place Vendome, which had been such a selling point when they took the place. Not that there weren't other reasons for staying at the Hotel Ritz, especially right now, when London was all but deserted, and would be until well into the new year, but really, they could at least have knocked a few francs off the charge. Pegasus thought this, this morning, as he'd thought every morning since he and Yami had taken a suite here at the end of October, as he walked past the windows to ring for a maid, and stopped to take a peek outside. And then, as he'd done every morning, he shrugged and went on past and rang for his breakfast and the morning newspapers, because after all, the Ritz was the Ritz, and overall they'd had an exceedingly good year hadn't they? And after all, anything was better than that dreadful Christmas three years ago, when they'd been reduced to taking rooms in Lambeth, and Yami had worked as a clerk at Whiteley's, while he'd had to take a job waiting tables - at Claridge's perhaps, but waiting tables was waiting tables.

No, they were doing quite well for themselves, he mused, back comfortable in bed again now, with his brioche and his cafe au lait convenient on the bedside table, and The Pall Mall Gazette folded so he could read the society pages (and Le Figaro in his lap for reading afterward). Next to him in the bed, Yami was a warm lump, still sound asleep, his tousled mop of spiky, tricolor hair just visible above the damask coverlet. He'd be awake soon enough, and demanding his cakes and coffee for breakfast as always: The strongest coffee in the place, along with a plateful of cakes sweet enough to make one's teeth hurt; Pegasus had seen him pour honey on cakes when they weren't sweet enough for his taste (it was his Egyptian heritage, perhaps). Let him sleep for now, Pegasus thought, and meanwhile he'd work for both of them, and he finished reading about the Hon. Galahad Threepwood and his plans to visit his brother Clarence, the Ninth Earl of Emsworth over Christmas, and went on to the next item, and from there, to the next; it paid to read the whole society page, everyday, even if there was nothing in it that could be of conceivable use to one.

It wasn't until he was about three quarters of the way through, that he found anything interesting: Alexander Jardine, Earl of Kirkconnell and Provost of Dumfries in southern Scotland, was apparently awaiting return of his son and heir, Donald, Marquess of Tinwald, so he could present the historic Lochmaben Emerald to him, on the occasion of his twenty-fifth birthday. Donald, the story said, hadn't been home in over seven years, having been posted to Bangalore with the British East India Company. Also looking forward to his return, were his mother, the former Hon. Margaret Carruthers, and his younger brother James, nicknamed Yuugi (which probably meant something in Gaellic).

Pegasus re-read the story. The Kirkconnells were an old family and a wealthy one. They'd been on the right side of the rebellions 100 years ago, and they'd absorbed land from a number of lowland Scots families that hadn't been as ready to support the House of Hanover over their own homegrown royal family, the Stuarts. They'd done quite well for themselves. - What was Alexander, the Tenth Earl? Or the Twelfth maybe? At any rate, a very well-to-do family, with a very nice estate - And good shooting in that part of Scotland, especially late in the year like this. - and apparently, some nice jewels that went the estate as well. He made a mental note to look up the Lochmaben Emerald and see if he could get some details on it. So they were missing a son and heir were they? He needed to find pictures of some family members. Yami could play 25 easily enough, but there was no use bothering, if the missing Donald had been tall and dark-haired. - There was no use bothering if Donald had returned already either. Somuch research to do all of a sudden!

He leaned over and jabbed an elbow into Yami's ribs. "Wake up, lazybones," he said. "I think I've found where we'll be spending Christmas."

"Asshole," was Yami's response, delivered without even bothering to open his eyes. This was a standard morning ritual with them: Pegasus always woke earlier than he did, and there was always that inevitable moment when the older man though it was time to wake him by jabbing, or poking or pushing him. Ribs or shoulders, that didn't matter. Yami wasn't a light sleeper, and it took work to get him up in the morning. He murmured and mumbled, his face buried, the pristine white of his pillowcase contrasting with the tan skin that showed his Middle-Eastern roots.

He'd been born in Cairo, and he remembered his heritage, even if he had grown up in East London. He was proud of his name, Atemu, although most of the time he used a nickname instead. His mother had died giving birth to him, and his father, busy all the time, had left him to be raised by a lot of cousins and family friends, who didn't have any more of an idea how to care for a child than he did, until his death when Yami was eleven. No one would tell him how his father died: He was involved in something he shouldn't have been, or he was helping someone who was involved in something they shouldn't have been. All anyone was definite about, was that he shouldn't ask questions, or above all, get the police involved, because things happen to boys who are too nosy. By then though, Yami was already Yami, growing up too fast, and making a living catch-as-catch can, in between playing card games that got him more often in trouble than not. He couldn't help his uncanny luck in games, but that didn't help, when the adults he'd play against, suspected him of cheating.

Meeting Pegasus had given his life a new direction, a good thing, for the hungry street kid he'd become. Opening his eyes now, blearily, Yami looked at the man (who was sitting up straight in bed, reading the papers just like he did every morning): The ease in which Pegasus read and how he composed himself, showed he came from a good family, even though he always denied it. The two men had a pact together, neither to pry into the past of the other, and for his part, Yami respected it.

When had the sex started between them? Yami couldn't recall, and frankly, he didn't care. He owed a lot to Pegasus - the fact that they were staying at the Ritz for example, ordering the sweetest thing on the menu for breakfast, with the kitchen sending up extra honey without being asked, because they knew his tastes. - and that he was healthy and fairly happy. Without Pegasus, he'd still be begging on the streets probably, instead of leading this life of comfort and luxury.

"Back to work now?" Yami whined a little. "But we still have pots of money left."

"Tsk, Yami," Pegasus took a sip of coffee as he spoke. He moistened his finger to turn the page of the paper, then continued. "That's our bread and butter you're dismissing so cavalierly," he said. "Don't think the fairies are going to fly down and just drop all the necessities of life into our laps. Fresh-roasted coffee, that new bespoke suit we just ordered you - Not to mention the dozen new shirts I ordered, that were positive necessities; I always say, one judges a gentleman by his linen. - Those things aren't free."

"And this is hardly a job at all," he continued. "Yami, this one's going to be fun."

"Fun?" The boy in the bed next to him brightened. - At 21, technically speaking, Yami was not a boy, but he was slightly built, and he could seem innocent when he wanted to. And besides, being almost 15 years younger than Pegasus, well, he still seemed like one. - "Any card games?" he asked.

Pegasus shook his head. "Better," he said. And then when Yami's face fell, "a country house in Scotland," he added, "and right during grouse season."

Yami's expression said he had no idea what that meant.

"You're going to do some incognito work," Pegasus told him. "You're going to be young Donald Jardine, and I'll be... Oh, I'll be the Colonel, who you met in India, and invited home to spend Christmas with you. We'll have a nice stay in the country out of it, and when we leave, we'll take your Christmas present: The Lochmaben Emerald."

"Which you know is worth getting how?" Yami still didn't look enthusiastic. He sat up in bed with his arms folded over his bare chest, his hair tumbling over his forehead, and he looked at Pegasus. "It's probably some little cracked rock full of flaws, and not even green-colored. Or else we'll get there, and there'll be the real Donald Jardine there to meet us. At least with card games, you know where you are, Pegasus. I cleared half the cost of my suit at that game in the back room at Maxim's last night, and you know it. I'll probably get more tonight. I hear the Prince of Wales is going to be there, and he wagers high."

"The problem with you," Pegasus said loftily, "is you have no vision." He gave his bedmate a shove. "Go order yourself some breakfast, he said. "And don't spare the coffee. You need something to wake you up so you can think properly. Imagine, turning down a visit to Scotland, so you can sit around in a lot of smoky rooms all winter and play cards. I don't know why I put up with you sometimes."

In his turn, he folded his arms and looked at Yami, as he got out of bed and crossed the room to ring for service. Yami slept in the nude. He was totally unashamed of his body (Pegasus didn't know if this was his Egyptian heritage, or if it came from growing up in poverty). And it was something to be proud of certainly, small, but well-shaped, and with a nice golden tinge to the skin, even in midwinter. His dark complexion meant he could pass himself off as a Southern European, when the situation called for it, while his blond hair (streaked improbably with dark and reddish strands) meant he could play a Briton just as easily. It was just one of the reasons Pegasus thanked whatever naughty gods controlled his life, for having sent him his way, some five years earlier.

As for Pegasus himself, his mother had been an impoverished gentlewoman, governess in the home of a wealthy cousin, whose son had gotten her in the family way and then refused to do the honorable thing by marrying her. He'd been the baby that resulted, of course; he liked to tell people that being a scoundrel was a tradition in his family. As soon as his mother's condition had started showing, her employer (Pegasus' grandfather) had packed her off to live with an even more distant relative, a Rector, with a congregation in the remotest, coldest part of West Yorkshire.

His mama had educated him at home, as well as she was able. She'd been a governess, after all, and she had the library in the Rectory to use for instruction. He'd grown up mostly alone, in the remote Rectory, and with no proper place in society, him not having a name to call his own and all. When his mother died right before his sixteenth birthday, the Rector had told him he'd always have a place in his home ...that is, provided he was willing to live by the rules of it, rules that included long Sabbaths spent in church studying the Bible, and no recourse to alcoholic refreshment or female companionship at all. - "After all what decent girl would have you?" the Rector pointed out to him whenever Pegasus dared to protest. "You are a bastard, boy, aren't you?"

It should have surprised no one therefore (although Pegasus later heard back that the Rector had been quite shocked) when he left as soon as he turned sixteen. He took along a 17th century communion set (silver chased with gold) along with all his clean linen, and a locket, that was the only thing he had to remember his mother with. A ready tongue and a charming manner, along with the initial funds he'd gotten by pawning the communion set, gave him his first success as a conman. Since then, and for almost 19 years now, he'd lived by his wits. It wasn't a bad life, he thought (although it had been rather a lonely one, before he'd met Yami and decided to mentor him). He had freedom, a reasonably good standard of living; and most of the time, he had access to the very highest levels of society, the levels his relatives had always been so ready to deny him, just for an accident of birth.

"Donald," Yami snorted, "who names his son Donald? And a country house in Scotland?" He rang for his breakfast, then traipsed back to bed, all but jumping in, rolling himself into the blankets. "I want to stay in Paris for Christmas," he pouted. "You promised we'd stay and see the lights on the Eiffel Tower."

He heaved a deep, put-upon sigh. "Fine, tell me about that emerald, then, Colonel." he said. Before Pegasus could start, a knock on the door announced the arrival of breakfast. Slipping into his robe, Yami went to the door and retrieved his breakfast, then returned to the coziness of the warm bed to eat it.

"I can't believe you can stomach that on an early morning," Pegasus made a face, eyeing the plate of sugary pastries and the pot of honey. "You're going to turn into a block of sugar if you keep eating that way."

"Is that why you like to kiss me? Because I'm sweet?" Yami said and shook his head a little, sending strands of his multi-colored hair flying. He picked up a Rum Baba, and bit into it hungrily. "Yum! Just talk to me while I eat. Who is this Donald Jardine? How are we going to connect him to meeting you in India? And how much is the emerald worth? If I'm going to miss playing cards with the Prince of Wales, it had better be worth my time."

"Huh, you're sweet like the bait in a trap." Pegasus wrapped an arm around Yami's shoulder, pulling him close for just one moment, destabilizing his breakfast tray and risking sending coffee and hot food into both of their laps. He let him loose at the last possible moment, adding, "and when you don't. And when you smell like fine French cologne, instead of a lot of nasty things no one in their right mind would want to eat for breakfast."

He shook out the Gazette, searching, and finding, the pencil marks where he'd circled the story about the Emerald. "Donald Jardine, Marquess of Tinwald, is turning twenty-five on December second," he said. "The story says he works for the East India Company, and he hasn't been home in more than seven years. His parents are the Earl and Countess of Kirkconnell. There's a younger brother James, nicknamed Yuugi. They're all desperate to see their beloved Donald back in the bosom of the family again, and not just because they've got family jewels to bestow on him, I'm sure."

Pegasus was silent for a moment, thinking. "I packed my copy of Debretts, didn't I?" he said, mentioning the book listing all of Britain's noble families that was his bible. "I think it's in the big trunk under our winter coats?" -

- "Case in point," Yami commented with his mouth full of breakfast. "Our winter coats, that we don't need yet, here in Paris. And you really want to take us to Scotland, which is the coldest part of the entire British Isles."

"AndI want to get you out of the house and hunting with me once we get there, yes," Pegasus said, "and out of the card parlors you usually hang around in. It's my job as your mentor," he said virtuously. "All that smoke can't possibly be good for a growing boy."

Yami just snorted.

"I'd like to get a look at Kirkconnell before we show up at the house," Pegasus said. "I think a visit to London is in order first: We need to visit the tailor and pick up our order. After that, perhaps an afternoon spent in the House of Lords; we might get lucky and find that the Earl is active there. I'll go by the British Museum and look around. There might be a family history or a portrait or something."

"And if there isn't?" Yami, finished with his breakfast now, gave him a skeptical look.

"There will be." Pegasus seemed untroubled by the possibility. "The British Museum has everything. And if not, well then we'll just go up to Dumfries a couple of days early and get a look at the family that way." He shoved the covers out of the way, dislodging Yami's breakfast tray (empty now, fortunately) again, and went and threw the lid up on their trunk. Shoes, articles of clothing, and the winter coats they'd just been discussing, went flying, as he searched for his copy of Debrett's Peerage.

He was pouting, he knew it; Yami had been looking forward to playing some card games, the quick money and the excitement, always more attractive to him than the complexities of pulling off a con.

"Who the hell names his kid James only to nickname him Yuugi?" He snorted, his speech pattern a lot rougher than Pegasus's. It only showed through when he was alone with the older man, not when they were in 'character'. He felt free and safe (and careless) in his partner's presence. "It sounds incredibly stupid, he must be stupid. And boring, dreadfully, dreadfully boring. Well I'll impress him," he said. "No worries about that, anyhow."

"You have no trouble impressing anyone." Pegasus' tone was a little sharp, and Yami eyed him, noting a little tightness to his mouth, a shadow of something like jealousy in his gaze. He always talked about what a good thing it was, the way Yami could influence anyone, man or woman. Like Mai Valentine, the rich widow of a Chicago pork tycoon, they'd met in Nice, the the previous summer: He'd had no difficulty in wooing her and capturing her affection with just a few soft words. And he had no difficulties robbing her blind, either. Her jewelry had been more than valuable enough for a nice, delicious time of luxury and relaxing, but it hadn't made Pegasus very happy. Yami got the idea he didn't care very much for it when he had to watch him kissing someone else. Unfair, considering he was the one who'd taught him how to do it, even more unfair, considering he romanced his fair share of people himself, but still, there it was, and he trod lightly around his mentor when he was in this mood.

"We have to prepare well for our next endeavour," Pegasus said.

He started leafing through his book. "You done with breakfast yet? Then get dressed, lazybones. We have a lot of work to do."