What is with me and under-loved pairings?

Okay, first...don't shoot me.

I'm a big fan of the standard Joey/Seto pairing...but Joey/Mako is seriously my crack-cocaine-100% pure Columbian Bam-Bam, baby!-and, outside of my own head, it doesn't exist anywhere...

SO...

I'm putting it out there 'cause I need to feed my fix.

Can't guarantee when I'll update this with more chapters...but good reviews might spur me forward 'cause I do have a list of ideas.

It was a month after Battle City-one month of hard work fishing after losing out of the tournament, but the nineteen-year-old could hardly complain. With a low chuckle, the fisherman stretched languidly as he walked along the walkway to the docks-he may have lost, but his duel with Joey Wheeler had been a magnificent one...on par with his Duelist Kingdom battle with Yugi Motou.

He had no regrets.

Well...maybe one-tomorrow was to be an early and long day, and going to the local watering hole with the older fishermen may have been a mistake. Running calloused fingers through his wild black mane, he could only hope that-since he had avoided drinking the honjozo sake in excess-that he would be able to think clearly come morning.

The last thing he needed was to either oversleep or get his foot caught in his net...again.

As he walked, a noise from the alleyway drew his attention. On one hand, it could simply be someone who had too much to drink, stumbling about-such things were more common than most seemed to think after all-but on the other...this was not exactly the best section of town on a good day and more than the usual thugs roamed about during the warmer months. A soft noise that he couldn't place, followed swiftly by a pained grunt and the sounds of a struggle and-against his better judgment-Mako entered the alley.

Cautiously he drew closer to see a tall, roughly dressed, blond-haired man holding someone against the brick wall-both of the man's larger hands wrapped around the other's throat. Whoever he was attempting to strangle, however, was fighting back as best they could-punching, clawing, and kicking to try to get free. A flash of blond hair and a far too familiar voice, from the smaller male, growling out "Fuck off, ya psycho has-been!"...

...Joey Wheeler.

Mako raced over, bringing both of his fists down together in an axe-handle on the assailant's broad back-the older man yelling out in surprise at the sudden blow. Taking his advantage, the fisherman wrenched the bandanna-wearing man away, shoving him back into a row of trashcans-causing the blond teen to drop to his knees against the wall, coughing violently now that the hold on his throat was released. Stormy, navy blue eyes narrowed in a dangerous glare at the man who had yet to move from where he now lay, before Mako turned and knelt at the fallen teen's side-reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. "Joey? Do you hear me?"

"...Mako?" Chestnut brown eyes blearily looked up through messy bangs-bruising beginning to form on one paler cheek; Joey coughed again, rubbing at his throat as if thinking that the gesture would help ease the pain. "Yeah...I'm...I'm alright-just failin' at breathin' 'ere, ya know?"

"Come, let me help you, my friend." Mako said as he shifted one of the blond's arms over his shoulders and slowly rose to stand, bringing Joey up with him-thankful for their similar height.

Mako cast a sharp look at the unconscious man still lying in the trash as he and the younger teen made their way out of the alley, before the fisherman looked back at the lither blond leaning heavily on him. Joey glanced up at the older teen, only to lose his footing on the cracked concrete; before he could end up in a crumpled heap on the ground, strong arms wrapped around him-a sharp hiss of pain escaping bloodied lips. Mako frowned and carefully moved around in front of Joey, helping the blond climb up onto his back-standing only once Joey was secure, and beginning to walk.

"Thanks, Mako. I owe ya one." Joey muttered softly, his arms loosely draping the elder's shoulders and he rested his head next to the fisherman's own.

"You owe me nothing, my friend." Mako said as he made his way towards the dock where his ship was-at the least, he had a first aid kit and a bed where the younger male could rest.