Disclaimer: I own neither Yu-Gi-Oh nor the song Human Touch by Bruce Springsteen, seeing how he is an immortal rock god and I am, well … not.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: This fic contains Slash, Yaoi, Shounen-ai, whatever you want to call it. Gay relationships abound here, so those with problems should save themselves (not to mention me) some trouble and just click back and go find another story to read. OOCness in the extreme to boot.
Notes: This pointless little short is a direct result of Coffee, Boredom, and Listening to Too Much Bruce Springsteen. It's entirely their fault, I claim no responsibility. And I have to, see, because I actually wrote a fic about the over used, horribly clichéd "Jou and Kaiba are in a relationship featuring sex but no love, and that should change." And in songfic form. In the second person. So there are about a million reasons to turn back now, but if you do happen to get through it I'd appreciate feedback.
Catching up
You and me we were the pretenders
We let it all slip away
You stare up at the dingy apartment complex, surreal and imperfect as the streetlight glances off of it at odd angles. You can no longer imagine living in such a place, and wonder how he does. You also wonder if he'll take the alternative or throw the offer back in your face. He's like that sometimes, cold and distant and unable to accept help. If you ever told anyone that they'd laugh. (Jou, cold and distant? You sure you haven't got that backwards?) You know how perfectly reasonable a reaction that is, but sometimes you want to slap them all in the face, hard. Tell them to wake up. But mostly you want to tell him to wake up. It's why you're here, after all. To tell him you want more out of this, to try and convince him it isn't the stupidest idea on the planet. Or not quite, anyhow.
In the end what you don't surrender
Well the world just strips away.
When the door opens, you can tell he's just woken up. His hair is mussed, sticking up in all directions, and he's fighting to keep his eyes open. As you step past him into the apartment, he lets out yawn and turns to glare halfheartedly at you. This might be the perfect time to have this conversation, or you may have just picked the absolute worst moment. You know he could go either way.
"What are you doing here? It's three in the morning." His words are slurred, and you can tell he's annoyed, but much too tired to yell. You figure his brain can't do much processing, what with the state he's in, so you get right down to the point.
"I think I could fall in love with you. I want you to give me the chance." You think maybe you should have done this when you're both a little more awake, because that has to have been the most idiotic thing you could possibly say.
He stares at you unmoving for a full minute, an eerie tableaux in the darkened room. Finally, he seems to snap back to life. He blinks, slowly, and sends you a level gaze.
"Fine, if you insist on having this conversation now, I'm gonna need some coffee."
So you been broken and you been hurt
Show me somebody who ain't
You follow him into the kitchen and take two mugs out of the cupboard as he puts the water on to boil. There is a companionable silence between you as he sorts through random kitchen appliances and you search out coffee filters. When the kettle whistles he pulls it off the stove, and a minute later you are both sitting on the couch with steaming mugs of deliciously dark roast in your hands – yours diluted with milk and the smallest hint of sugar, his rich and black and strong. Your tastes in coffee are another thing that you know would surprise them.
"Your father's not here?" You begin the conversation while he enjoys his drink.
He takes another sip of the hot brew, hesitates before answering. "Disappeared sometime last night. I woke up in the mornin' and he was gone again. His stuff's still here, though, so I doubt it'll be for long."
"I see." You're really not quite sure what to say.
"Look, that's not why you're here, so can we please just get to the point?"
"Alright, no need to throw a snit, mutt." When in doubt, you sometimes can't help but to fall back on bad habits. It's a tendency you really need to work on.
"Huh, and here I thought you were plannin' on bein' nice to me, moneybags. But I guess once a bastard, always a bastard, no matter what else changes." At least you're not the only one.
You make a quick decision to end this before it descends into completely pointless bickering and nothing is accomplished.
"I didn't come here to fight with you."
He recognizes the apology in your tone and you read acceptance in his eyes as his shoulders relax slightly.
And I know I ain't nobody's bargain
But hell a little touchup and a little paint ...
Abruptly, he picks up from where you left off in the hall. "You really want more outa this … relationship?"
"I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I wouldn't mind this actually being a … relationship." The word comes out as awkwardly for you as it did for him.
"Do you think the two of us could even pull it off?"
"I think we might be a lot better at this than anyone would give us credit for."
"Or worse." He chimes in.
"Or worse." You agree. You know he's perfectly right. But quite frankly you're surprised he's even considering it, and –"We'll never know until we try."
You might need somethin' to hold on to
When all the answers they don't amount to much.
He sets the coffee deliberately down on the cheap wooden table (sans coaster, you can't help but notice) and motions for you to do the same. An instant later, he's sitting in your lap with his back to your chest. He pulls your arms around his waste, and you're surprised by his sense of ease and familiarity with the situation, as if this is nothing new between two people who, only yesterday, could barely stand to be around each other outside of sex.
"I've wanted this for so long." His voice is barely a whisper and you feel almost certain you've misheard him. "I was wondering if you'd ever come round."
He turns around and plants a warm kiss on your lips, eyes shining, before snuggling deeper into your chest and promptly falling asleep. You sit still in shock, observing the steam still rising from your coffee mugs, surrounded by the light sound of his snoring. Slowly, a rueful smile appears on your face.
I just want to feel you in my arms
And share a little of that human touch.
Fin.