I'm currently doing YGO Fic Requests from my Tumblr account. Someone asked for a piece with Seto and Yugi to the following prompt: "I prefer my own company."
Enjoy, and please, let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: YGO and all its characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi, not me.
"Yug, it's not too late. You could still cancel." From his spot on the floor, Yugi stopped sorting t-shirts to look at the blonde. Jonouchi stared back from Yugi's bed. He'd comfortably sprawled there, stomach first, an hour earlier after his prep classes wrapped up and had no intention of moving anytime soon.
"Come on, Jou, you know I can't do that. Kaiba already has the whole tour planned. I can't bail now." Yugi turned back to his task, kind of folding the shirts before sticking them in his suitcase. He had a hard time picking between tees and sweaters, leather jeans or normal ones. Having never been to half the countries on the schedule, he had no conception of what the weather would be like late summer. Was it even summer in all the places? How did that work, was it the upper hemisphere in the summer while the lower hemisphere was winter…?
Jonouchi scowled. "So what? Tell him you thought about it more and you realized you couldn't hang out with him that long without committin' homicide."
Yugi threw a pair of socks at him. "That's exactly why you're not coming along. Maybe if you were nicer to him, he'd have invited you, too."
"Right. Because being nice to that guy does any good." Jonouchi tossed the socks back, then punched the pillow under his chest to adjust it. And like that's why he invited Yugi, he thought. After months of being a total no show, Kaiba asked Yugi to join him on a world tour to promote KaibaCorp's new University Program. Through it, college students could organize Duel Monsters tournament teams, compete their way from regionals to the world championship, and potentially win free tuition for the rest of their college years.
No doubt, the program sounded awesome. But the spontaneity of it raised the hairs on Jonouchi's neck. Kaiba rarely reached out without an ulterior motive. Yugi accepted the offer, even after Jonouchi reminded him that the last time Yugi and Kaiba crossed hairs, the CEO thought nothing of nearly strangling him.
"He's not the only one who thinks with his fists sometimes," Yugi'd said, and that was the end of it.
Jou watched Yugi compare jackets, then shoes. Almost a year had passed since the Ceremonial Duel. The softness that marked Yugi's face and arms for most of high school had given way to clearer, more defined lines. His continued penchant for leather and buckles made that clear. Yugi's path had also sharpened. He made the specific choice not to continue onto university, at least not now. Instead, he focused his efforts on the family store. Business had grown exponentially in the wake of Battle City. The walls of his room showed how he spent the remainder of his time. His mother had framed several elaborate, one-dimensional puzzles he'd put together. A few cryptography textbooks sat on his desk. Two shelves housed a number of three-dimensional puzzles, some wooden and small, others sprawling into mini-cities. Each time Jonouchi visited, something sat there.
"Besides, he wouldn't invite me just to be a jerk the whole time." Yugi started to zip his suitcase shut, then stopped. "I'm pretty sure, at least. Maybe we'll even get to be friends finally."
Jonouchi rolled over onto his back and made an exaggerated scoffing noise. Yugi couldn't fight him on that. It did sound naive. Yugi shared Jonouchi's ignorance: he didn't know what had possessed Kaiba to reach out after so long. But he knew why he'd accepted the offer. Three months ago, Anzu left to join a small, but growing edgy dance group in Brooklyn. Jonouchi spent most of his time in prep classes or training with Yugi and his grandfather. Honda, like Jonouchi, had committed himself to a year of study before re-taking the university entrance exams. Yugi, meanwhile, spent more time keeping busy than trying to set his future. The tour gave him an opportunity to do something, to move, and it required little of his own drive to do so. He dragged his suitcase toward the door. Feeling the full weight, he wondered if he'd overpacked. Too late now.
"Worst case, we never talk, I get some cool souvenirs, and we move into one of those new apartments downtown." Jou just nodded. Yugi'd told him how much Kaiba promised in salary for Yugi's participation. It certainly guaranteed his friend a comfortable life for some time. Yugi said he wanted to use it so they could both move out on their own, but while Jonouchi wanted for little else, he kept his enthusiasm muted. A lot could happen in three months.
"Just let me know if he gives you a hard time, alright? If I have to, I'll swim my way to wherever you are and kick his butt."
Yugi walked to his bed and collapsed on Jonouchi's back. "Will do."
Seto said little to Yugi on the flight from Domino to Barcelona. He barely met Yugi's eyes when Yugi stepped onto the plane. Instead, Seto handed him the itinerary, told the Blue Eyes 3 crew to take care of its only guest, then disappeared into the cockpit to work undisturbed. They'd be sick of one another soon enough. Spain was the first stop on the tour. Once they touched down, they'd go through an endless string of public appearances, speeches, and meetings. He felt confident that Yugi would, in retrospect, be glad to have the time alone.
When he first considered inviting Yugi, Seto shot the idea down immediately. More than nine months had passed since the oddities in Egypt. He'd avoided Yugi and all his friends to the best of his ability. Yugi had no need for pity—his friends would certainly coddle him enough—and even if he did, Seto had no pity to give him. It wouldn't bring Yugi's look-a-like back. Jonouchi had also made clear to Seto where he stood in the friendship circle: far, far outside it. So Seto looked to the future. Yugi certainly remained his true rival. He'd defeated the person that had actually always defeated Seto (or so his understanding stood). The sting of rebuke still burned at him. Yugi's insistence that he defeat the Pharaoh with his own cards blurred Seto's judgment and kept him from seeing a better means of vengeance.
If he couldn't beat Yugi Mutou, he'd exploit him. Exploit was probably too strong a word. Profit? Profit. Competition thrilled Seto, but so did pushing his company and its technology to its furthest edges. After he developed the University Program, he knew he'd have to draw interest. And he knew without consulting his Public Relations team that a brusque, friendless CEO would not have the worldwide appeal the program needed to succeed.
His team argued the Fifty Shades of Grey trend helped a little. He shared the love interest's piercing eyes, personal planes, and wealth: that could be capitalized on. The comments turned his stomach more than it helped. Worse, it captured an older portion of the market than he needed. Young men and women desired someone kind, someone relatable, to draw them in. A Peeta to his Gale (or more aptly, to his President Snow), as Mokuba put it. Yugi fit the bill. Soft, large eyes. Edgy hair and fashion sense. Bondage-wear aside, his warmth and energy would win over thousands. So Seto hoped, at least.
The first week brought some speedbumps. Yugi thought nothing of dueling in front of crowds; however, he had no understanding for the rules of standing before them to field their questions. A natural ability with people helped, and the translator covered Yugi's occasional missteps well. Yugi came off shy and earnest, particularly when his cheeks and ears matched the red-fringed tips of his hair. Early numbers showed approval from students, casual fans, and administrators alike.
As they rode from the third event—a signing at the Museau Picasso—Seto gave Yugi a printout of potential questions and answers he could expect.
"Don't overthink this. It's not that different from having a conversation one-on-one. Just be natural. And try to think of something pleasant while you're out there. Imagine it's… your friends cheering you on." Seto very carefully avoided dweeb squad. Normally he wouldn't think twice. Yet despite the considerable money Yugi was earning by joining the tour, he was also doing Seto a favor. The CEO didn't take that for granted.
"That might help you with the nerves."
Seated beside him in the limo, Yugi paged through the tome. The questions were culled from online forums, magazine articles, news interviews, and questionnaires that fans had asked Kaiba and other famous duelists over the years. Someone spent a lot of time putting it together. "Thanks, Kaiba. I'll read this over and give it my best." Seto didn't return the smile, but he did give it a full five seconds of his attention before turning back to the views outside the car.
"Don't worry about it."
By the second week, Yugi did most of the speaking. Seto kept himself slightly back and to the left, far enough to avoid most questions, but close enough to give Yugi signals when necessary. Yugi acclimated to the rigorous schedule with considerable ease given he'd never done such a tour before. Reporters, university presidents, fans—Yugi could build and maintain rapport through any campus tour or televised interview. If he saw an interesting building or student, he stopped everyone to ask a question and learn more. Attractive men and women received compliments. The administrators garnered praise for their campuses and excited students.
The results pleased Seto. The growing number of registrants and incoming fees to the program confirmed his read on Mutou's potential. He cared little that the more Yugi spoke, the more Seto could foster a fan base as the brooding, silent rival by comparison. So said the people he paid to care about that sort of thing, at least. What he valued most was that it spared him the necessary evil of addressing other people. Of all his responsibilities at KaibaCorp, dealing with almost anyone over the age of twelve (Mokuba excepted) required the most energy while returning the least. Leaving that work to another would bother him more if he hadn't orchestrated it himself. The benefits to his own sanity were undeniable. Mokuba even commented on it during one of their nightly check-ins.
"Things must be going well. Usually you're ready to fire everyone by now." Seto hummed low in his throat and undid his tie, careful not to knock the earpiece to the ground again.
"You would be, too, if you had to deal with all of those people." Even as he said it, Seto doubted it was true. Mokuba, like Yugi, could draw energy from others. For Seto, it only took energy away.
"Though I can't imagine leaving you with those high school kids is much better." Seto had given only minimal effort to the colossal waste of his time that was high school. Mokuba actually tried on his entrance exams. Instead of landing in a school like Domino, Mokuba made it to the prestigious Hibiya High School. Seto took him on a brothers-only weekend trip to Hawaii to celebrate. Mokuba played it off. Really, he claimed, he was just glad to go to a place that didn't require a uniform! Yet if Mokuba could, he'd hang a certificate on the wall memorializing his brother's approval over an acceptance letter from Hibiya any day.
"They're not bad that bad," Mokuba said. "I might run circles around them, but it's nice to have people to talk to while you're gone."
Seto's hands hovered over the third button of his vest. Mokuba had spent much of the conversation assuring Seto just how totally fine he was without him there—but that didn't stop the whisper of guilt that weaved at the edge of Seto's mind. He ignored it. Mokuba neared an age where Seto would need to shift his relationship from parent to sibling or risk his little brother's resentment. Not yet, but soon.
"Good," he said. "Anything that keeps the corporate espionage to a minimum."
Mokuba laughed. "No promises!"
In Munich, halfway through the third week, Yugi and Seto held a press conference from a cordoned off section of the Hofbräuhaus. The cathedral ceilings captured a distracting amount of noise from the other parts of the restaurant, but it offered a cool and jovial atmosphere. Both of them opted for a Radler: a thirty-three ounce, half beer, half lemonade beverage the managing host recommended. Seto's remained mostly full. Yugi, by comparison, had drunk nearly half and without any slow to his speech or enthusiasm. More surprising, he'd answered a rather bold and inappropriate question about what, if any, underwear he could fit in his signature leather pants with a kind of dirty humor Seto and the crowd had not expected.
The next question came from a young man with sandy hair, a trendy plaid shirt and a bow tie. Seto pegged him immediately for someone from a local college newspaper. "Mr. Mutou, any special someones you've left behind to travel the world?"
The spectacle of someone blushing usually annoyed Seto. It showed a lack of emotional control, and thus a weakness, that disappointed him. Yet then, as Yugi bowed his head a little to disguise the light pink flush on his cheeks, Seto could only be impressed. That display was controlled, if not perfectly timed.
"My dedication is to this tour and to everyone that's supporting our efforts to make the University Program exceed any tournament that's come before…" Yugi brushed his bangs behind his ears, first the left side, then the right. "But I'm sure that someone is out there keeping a very keen and proud eye on all of this."
Another blonde reporter followed up too quickly for Seto to catch Yugi's attention.
"So what's it like traveling alongside your greatest rival? Do you think you'll survive the trip? Or should we take that sweatsuit to mean you've had a change of heart?" Though the reporter held the microphone to Yugi, she directed a wink and head tilt in Seto's direction. Seto took a moment to enjoy the attention the new white and blue KaibaCorp sweatsuit had received. He would not be wearing it, but once again, Yugi made the perfect spokesperson. And Yugi'd planned poorly for the humidity of July in Europe. When Yugi mentioned his discomfort to Seto, and his inexplicable failure to bring any shorts, the CEO replied he had unfortunately brought only one kind of clothing in the other's size…
Seto recognized the smirk Yugi had on his face. He looked like the Pharaoh: confident and assessing.
"You know what they say—keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." Yugi paused to let the small round of hooting from the crowd die down. The look faded, and Yugi's own bright-eyed exuberance took its place. "But in all seriousness, it's been a lot of fun. I have a whole new appreciation for all that Kaiba's achieved. Don't think I'll take it easy on him the next time we duel, though."
More cheers followed that comment than the last, save for one brunette woman who stood two rows back. She stared straight at Kaiba as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd.
"First, thank you both for coming all the way here." Her voice had a crisp, clean English compared to the other reporters. Seto tried to place her. "But I must say, Mr. Kaiba, how can Mr. Mutou's comments be true when according to this, the two of you spent almost every night of this tour in different hotels, dining alone?"
From his seat, Seto could see the collection of hotel bills and photographs in her hand. He should have figured someone would track their movements. The afterhours had seemed trivial to him. They arrived and left all their appearances together. A mistake, in retrospect. He wanted to make it clear that the relationship between him and Yugi was nothing but professional. The tour cost a lot of money after all: he didn't need the other stakeholders questioning his motives in bringing another person with him for a three-month traipse across the world.
Seto wrapped his hand around hers and the microphone. With control, he pulled both close to his mouth. He kept his voice low, his left eyebrow raised. "I prefer my own company."
The interview left Seto little choice: Yugi accompanied him back to the Charles Hotel. The whole ride Seto kept running his thumb over the rest of his fingers. Incessant questions. Optimism. He would have to leave Yugi in the room adjacent to his if he hoped to accomplish anything that evening.
If the accommodations impressed Yugi, he kept it to himself. When they entered the first suite-the one Seto's tour team occupied-Seto thanked his past self for booking the one without the grand piano. People always wanted to wander up and patter out Chopsticks when they saw one. The instrument also raised an ache in his fingers he had yet to forget.
Seto hung back while Yugi took a few steps further into the room. Pale wood ran in zig-zag panels throughout. The pale cream walls and furniture emphasized the centerpiece rug, which moved from orange to red to green like a changing tree in the middle of fall. Abstract art dotted the walls between an occasional accent column. Every surface carried something: a computer, a printer, Duel Disks, copy paper, highlighters, volumes of paperwork. The combination of electronics hummed around them. It smelled like printer ink and dark sodas. At least nine people immersed themselves in… something. Business people tended to blur together to Yugi. Only when Seto cleared his throat did the group look up.
After some discussion, the team reached a consensus. The interview set them back, but not much. Online chatter indicated that people viewed Yugi as all the more tolerant and kind when put against a speculated backdrop of tension and unease. TV commentators seemed more scandalized and intrigued by Seto's behavior than his response. The outcome exceeded his expectations: he had, in fact, been trying to intimidate the woman, not flirt with her. The reporter said she had no plans to wash her hand anytime soon. He would refrain even more from touching people after that.
The issue resolved, Seto could turn to the other problems waiting for him. He went to the door that connected the first suite to his own only to realize Yugi stayed back, his eyes switching between the workers and the exit. Around him, men and women in suits scratched on paper or typed furiously. The jumpsuit made him appear even more out of place by comparison.
"Come on," Seto said. If he doesn't stay quiet, I can always kick him out later. He went into the other room without looking to see if Yugi heard him. A few seconds later, Yugi cracked the door open.
"Were you talking to me?"
Seto was at the kitchenette warming up a cup of coffee in the microwave. "Yes. Sit wherever."
Yugi actually had several options. Kaiba's room mirrored the one for the employees, but it seemed larger without all the bodies to fill it. On the table nearest him, he saw designs for a new Duel Disk system. Another paper had schematics for what looked like a new arena. Probably for the program's finale. World News played silently on the T.V. Two other computers displayed the stock markets and another news network. Yugi opted for the couch.
"So this is what you do after the interviews," Yugi said. The newest Industrial Illusions newsletter caught his eye, and he pulled it from amongst the other magazines and newspapers on the side table.
"Pretty much." Seto tested the coffee. It needed another minute. Yugi started to glance through the first few pages of the issue. The longer he stared, the more he saw the tiny notations that dotted the margins of the articles. Many notes were just a few words long. Some were followed with an exclamation point for emphasis or arrows tying thoughts together. Yugi kept on, discovering more notes and even some post-its. Looking to the documents on the table, he saw the same neat and numerous scrawls there as well.
"You really love this, don't you, Kaiba?" Yugi's soft voice and amusement surprised him so much Seto failed to finish the drink he'd started to take. He expected concern or exasperation or an inane comment on the weather. But Yugi was right. Seto did love it. Games, technology, constant improvement and new challenges. He thrived on it. He felt most alive and real, most aware of what he was capable of, against an opponent or here, amongst his designs and numbers of hand-selected team. He said no such thing, however. Instead, he finished his sip of coffee. It would do.
Yugi appeared not to notice the effect he'd had, nor did he comment on Kaiba's silence. His hands shifted the papers around in search of more notes.
"My dad's the same way." Seto had no response to that. The cursory investigating he'd done years ago on Yugi's father turned up little of interest. No point in sharing that opinion. He settled at his desk. It lined up with the large windows and put him at the farthest point in the room from its entrance.
The first few minutes, he feigned working. Usually guests, and even Mokuba, felt it necessary to fill silences with chatter about any stray thought that popped into their minds. Then suddenly, he worked in earnest, and more than an hour passed before he remembered he wasn't alone. He used the window's reflection to see what had kept the other silent so long. Behind him, Yugi sat on the couch wrapped in a blanket. The next week's schedule balanced on his knees, along with a summary of the campuses they'd be touring. He hasn't said a thing.
"Yugi." Yugi looked up.
"Hm?"
Seto turned to look at him. He let his arm drape around the back of his chair. "This is going to take a while. You should eat. The room service here is decent."
Yugi smiled and shook his head.
"I'm fine. I can wait until you're ready." He held up the binder. "Besides, I have plenty to review in the meantime."
Seto stared a moment longer, then returned to his work. "Suit yourself."
They managed to catch room service before the hotel kitchen closed for the night. For the most part, they ate together in silence. Seto sat at one end of the couch. Yugi enjoyed ample space on his side. Though Yugi joined him only once every few days at first, the practice soon became a part of their itinerary. Tours and meetings during the day. Discussions with the team. Then Yugi worked on Seto's couch or kitchen table while the young CEO fielded calls or typed away. Once everything wrapped up, they ordered whatever they wanted from the hotel menu. No one commented again on their habits outside of the spotlight.
One night in London, Yugi and Seto sat side-by-side on an overly plush couch in Seto's room. They'd moved the bed to push the couch closer to the window. The Savoy embodied everything Yugi'd imagined London to be: posh, elaborate, and pastel colored. The accommodations actually struck him as so reminiscent of a historical novel, it surprised him Kaiba would choose such a place-at least, until Yugi saw the views it had. From their spot, they could watch the London Eye make its round, slow revolutions. River cruises passed by as well, their flashing lights outlining the boundaries of the River Thames.
They'd opted for Indian food for dinner. The President of King's College had recommended it to them during a tour earlier in the day. Yugi wouldn't know the difference, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.
Seto pulled his fork out of a container of rice and waved it between the two of them. "What would you be doing if you weren't here?"
Yugi twirled the straw in his soda. Seto rarely initiated conversation. It often fell to Yugi to ask questions if he hoped to draw out Seto's thoughts. So of course, one of the few times Seto brought something up, it would be a question whose answer Yugi did not feel eager to give. His right leg, hung over the end of the couch, began to swing.
"Well," Yugi started. He took a long sip of Vanilla Coke. "I actually used to go out in the evenings. For food. And socializing, I guess."
Seto rooted around in his To Go box for more pieces of chicken. His expressed remained neutral.
"Oh," he said. Amusement flooded him watching the expressions fighting on Yugi's face. The other really didn't try very hard to hide his feelings. The violet eyes would narrow with determination, then fade into worry. In his periphery, he saw Yugi draw his lower lip into his teeth.
"You never said I couldn't go out. And I always wear a disguise when I do. A hat, to cover my hair. No one's ever recognized me so far." The words left Yugi like a ticker tape stream. He didn't need to be so worried-Seto already knew about the outings (and the ridiculous hat). He'd only asked to see if Yugi would be honest with him. But again, Seto felt those particular facts were not worth sharing.
Yugi was still talking. "...After all, we don't get to see very much of these cities, and I don't know when I'm going to get the chance to be here again."
"You think I wouldn't bring you back." Seto delivered the statement simply enough, but then he stared at his food. The comment just… came out of him. Unbidden. And, after the fact, unwanted. But it was too late. Yugi had heard it.
"You'd do that," Yugi asked. Seto turned away to press further into the couch's armrest. It put more of his back between them.
"Why not? You've done your job well."
Yugi saw the pointed shift in body language and focused on his own food. "I guess."
Silence overtook them again while Seto considered entertaining himself a little more at Yugi's expense. Seto had at least three people trailing Yugi whenever the duelist when off on his own. Each of them went prepared to fight, heal, or pay off anyone they needed to in order to protect the tour. But so far, they reported nothing out of the ordinary, save Yugi's considerable luck with the locals.
"So. Is it fun when you venture out," Seto asked. Curry proved to be the best food they could have ordered. Whenever Seto wanted to keep his face neutral, he could make a showing of digging for vegetables.
"It's a little less fun given the language barrier." Yugi's voice came out a little loud. He just felt relieved his outings weren't an issue. "I really didn't pay enough attention in my language classes to be able to talk to anyone very much. Though I guess I never end up having to do that much talking."
Seto turned. A flush colored Yugi's face. Though he felt the other's gaze on him, Yugi kept his focus on the scene outside the window. "People here are aggressive. They keep getting me into corners."
A kind of half-chortle, half-laugh came from Seto's side of the couch. "That's all it takes? All this time, I just had to put you in a corner to disarm you?"
Yugi managed to roll his eyes and return his focus to food. Seto meant a duel, but Yugi's mind conjured one thing-the strangers that had disarmed him over the last several weeks. Women and men had boldly wrapped him in warm embraces in the anonymous dark of bars and nightclubs. Pressed against a wall, Yugi forgot that when he spoke to himself, no one answered anymore. Entangling his fingers in another's hair or clothing, he didn't hear Anzu saying how it had hurt her to look at him, now, with that face and hair. All the presentations and tours and interviews in this trip put together could not pull him out of his mind and into his body the way a stranger could. Mouths hot on his neck and arms, his own nails meeting another's skin: those moments were nothing but flesh and need and him, Yugi, one man in a sea of people.
When the heat of the memories left him, he considered whether Kaiba wouldn't benefit from a night on the town. Images of the other similarly captured in the dark appeared before Yugi could stop them. He coughed a little on a piece of broccoli. The chances Seto would agree seemed very small; yet, Yugi could not have said a month and a half ago that he'd be sharing dinner in Kaiba's hotel room either.
"You know you could join me sometime. I could pick up an extra hat. It's a nice break from all of this."
Seto stared at him. "That's not going to happen."
"Why not?"
Seto started to say something cruel, but all that came out was the truth: "Because someone could see and put it all over the internet. And that's assuming they only see me at a bar full of drunk youths. Heaven forbid any of them are underage or on something worse than booze. And if something else happened, if someone tried to take me to a corner, and that got out there? Absolutely not."
Yugi'd learned that although Seto disliked most emotional outbursts, he had no problem with anything on the scale from sarcastic to furious. Seto's response solidified a theory Yugi'd started to develop over the last few weeks. However much Seto loved his work, his life was a trap. Committing himself to the work he loved meant sacrificing the opportunity to be a regular person. To walk unrecognized to a bar for dinner. To dance with friends for birthdays. If he spoke too much about work, someone would take the idea. If he had one drink too many, photos and online gossip would clog his emails. Not because he personally cared what other people thought, but because as he grew older, he knew that some things mattered to other people, including stakeholders. And that with so many people clawing at the door of the powerhouse company, he could not afford such missteps now. He had enough in his past to bury-no point in making new ones.
Frowning, Yugi set down his food and walked over to one of the computers. Seto watched him.
"What are you doing?"
Instead of answering, Yugi opened up a web browser and started to type something Seto couldn't see. Music started to play. Yugi turned around and crossed his arms.
"If you can't go out, then we'll bring some of it here." Yugi turned toward the mini-fridge. Seto beat him to it.
"You-that goes on the bill. Which goes to KaibaCorp accountants for review." Yugi looked up at him. Really had to look up at him. They were rarely this close, and he hadn't had to think of it before. It made him glad that dueling required distance and equal sized podiums. Seto saw the frown lessen on Yugi's face. The accountants could go to hell, but so could wherever this was going.
"What," Seto asked. Yugi walked past him to grab an all-blue sweatsuit jacket off of one of the chairs.
"I'm going to go downstairs to the lobby, buy something in cash, and bring it back up here." He looked at Kaiba over his shoulder.
"Any requests? Or other obstacles to this I have to fix by leaving the room?" Standing there, hand in his pockets, eyes darkened to violet, Yugi again reminded Seto of his counterpart. More specifically, Yugi reminded Seto of whom Seto thought he was all along: a light-hearted boy capable of much more than he let on.
Seto matched the stare he received. "How do you know I'm not going to lock you out the minute you leave?"
Yugi's hand wrapped around the jacket's zipper, which he tugged a little up, then down. "I don't. I'm just going to ask you, as a friend, not to do it. You just… It shouldn't…"
Yugi struggled to find the right words. He settled for: "If you enjoy yourself, no one would have to know."
For emphasis, he gestured to the empty room, the closed curtains. "And if you can't do that here, alone with me, when is it going to happen?"
When Yugi left, Seto walked up to the door and grabbed the lock. He stared at it. Compelled it to lock itself. His hand began to turn. Then he released it to slam the door with his other hand. He hated people telling him to do something, but that was exactly the point. Yugi wasn't telling him to do anything. He was asking. Something Yugi had not done the whole time. Not for more of Seto's time. Not for better accommodations. Not for spare clothes that didn't carry the KaibaCorp logo.
Later, Seto did let him in. He refused to dance and drank only a little of the vodka Yugi bought. Yugi still considered it a victory.
The tour's second half scheduled more time between events. Seto's prior travels taught him to pace the end of long business trips. Inserting open afternoons or entirely free days was a luxury Gozaburo had denied him. The tour's massive success also lessened any remaining pressure to succeed. By that point KaibaCorp had been forced to go on a hiring spree to prepare an infrastructure adequate to support the flood of registrations. They far exceeded initial estimates. The stakeholders were happy.
Yugi spent most of the free time exploring on his own. Sometimes, Kaiba accompanied him. They visited the Hadron Collider in Cern and the Museo Galileo in Florence. All of the science went over Yugi's head, but Seto asked numerous questions along the tour regarding the buildings and the current research.
On their walks, when something captured Yugi's attention, he wandered off just as often as he pulled Seto's sleeve in the direction of his interest. The first time, Seto didn't even notice, it reminded him so much of Mokuba. Yet not.
Most of the time, Yugi led them to a patisserie or a bakery. The sweets in each country varied so far from the mochis and gelatinous treats Yugi was used to. He seemed determine to try all of them. Where Seto knew of a notable spot, he made sure to walk them toward it, though he never went inside. Sweets did little for him. Despite this, Yugi always brought him something. A double-shot of espresso (which Europe did much better than the shops in the United States). A pistachio nut bar. Baklava.
Then, in New York, Seto went so far as to join Yugi on his dinner with Anzu. Yugi actually had not invited him, had only mentioned it after a meeting at NYU, but Seto expressed interest in the ramen shop she'd picked out. He mostly sat back and worked from his phone while Yugi and Anzu discussed her practice schedule and adjustment to New York. However, he did comment on how authentic the flavors were and pitch in once or twice.
Anzu made a point of discussing Kaiba with Yugi later, when they walked alone toward her apartment. She noted how Kaiba's sarcasm rang less like a douche warning bell and more like an attempt at humor. Out loud, Yugi attributed it to the tour's success.
On his own, Yugi could not say the same to himself. As New York spilled into Philadelphia and Washington, D.C., his conversations with Seto ran longer into the night. In Houston, Yugi began to stay in the same hotel. By Miami, the head of PR as well as Seto started to come to him to ask his thoughts on a press release or strategy for the next interview.
And somewhere along those miles, when Yugi lay in bed in the dark of his own hotel room, the crimson eyes that usually haunted him began to turn an all-too-familiar shade of blue.
New Orleans beat out every other city for miserable, thick heat. Late August brought little wind to cut the warmth. And for the first time, Seto rented a house in Treme for him and Yugi instead of a hotel room. Having been to New Orleans before, Seto knew better. Every time he walked through a lobby, he saw someone throwing up or making out or shouting at nothing. The city seemed to draw out the inhibitions of its visitors and replace it with recklessness. So, he kept himself and Yugi outside the most populated area of the French Quarter and put his staff at a Marriott instead.
Three willow trees and a tall wrought iron fence shielded the house from the public. Not that they needed the privacy: Duel Monsters enjoyed less popularity in the United States, and few reporters cared to follow them home in Louisiana at least. Yugi still looked behind him before shutting the gate.
Earlier, he'd joined the staff for dinner at a near hidden restaurant called Sylvain. Down and around a brick alley, they'd found a back table outside to joke and enjoy rich foods like pork shoulder, grits doused in butter, and cajun shrimp. When Yugi reached up to wipe sweat from his face, he could smell the remnant of black pepper and bbq sauce on his fingers.
He poked his head into the upstairs living room, but saw no sign of Seto. When he took a moment to stand still and balance the box of beignets in his hand, he heard the rolling chords of a piano and a long, low wail from a trumpet coming from the second floor porch. Yugi followed the sound. Seto sat beside the door. He'd rocked the chair he sat on onto its hind legs. His feet pressed against the porch's green railing for balance. The heat got to Seto too, it seemed. Instead of his usual jacket, turtleneck, and pants, he'd opted for a long white sleeve cotton shirt and loose jersey pants.
"Still working," Yugi asked, leaning in the doorway. Noticing Yugi, Seto turned the iPad off and set it on his lap.
"No. Reading. It's a collection of short stories by Flannery O'Connor." Seto paused to accept one of the beignets Yugi offered him.
"She's an author that's associated with.. this area." Seto gestured around them. Powdered sugar fell from the beignet to leave a small, dusty cloud. Yugi nodded. His favorite of Seto's habits was the CEO's interest in the literature for whatever area they visited. In Spain, it was Hemingway. In London, Arthur Conan Doyle. Yugi didn't like to read, but he liked to hear Seto talk about it. The stories were much easier to follow than Seto's explanations of his virtual technology or other projects.
Seto began to describe the last story he read, something about a man named the Misfit and a family with the misfortune of running into him. Yugi tried to listen. It sounded more exciting than the Hemingway pieces. Yet Yugi's mind drew all his attention to the bead of sweat making its way down from Seto's hairline. First, it collected at the slope of the CEO's cheek. Then, it rushed down, nearly catching the corner of his mouth before turning over and around his chin. When Yugi caught sight of it again, it was halfway down the cord of Seto's neck before it disappeared entirely beneath the shirt's collar. Swallowing, Yugi felt the heat from his meal lingering in his mouth and throat.
"You're not listening," Seto said.
Yugi took a large bite of another beignet and spoke around the doughy bread. "Sure I am. The Misfit. Go on."
Seto took his time doing so, but did start to speak again. Yugi moved to the side of the door frame closest to the other and sat against it. Listening to the music and Seto's voice, he let his mind wander. Part of him imagined the story until the plot turned too dark to do so. Another part of him imagined the trouble the staff were getting into.
A shoulder blocked his vision. Seto was reaching past him for the beignet box, the cotton shirt almost brushing Yugi's chin. He had to do it. The resolve jumpstarted his heart.
"Kaiba," Yugi said, wrapping his hand under and around the firm upper arm and shoulder closest to him. Seto managed only an annoyed what in response before Yugi's other hand found its way to his hair and pulled Seto's mouth against his own.
Yugi felt nothing at first. Just as adrenaline first kept a wound from hurting, so did Yugi's brain cloud his senses with a kind of void from sensation. Then his stomach dropped out. He felt the warmth of Seto's breath against his face. The pressure of firm lips. The soft damp of the brown hair between his fingers. The warmth in Yugi's stomach no longer came from his food: it came from the overheated body above and against him.
Yugi drew back just enough to lick his lips, but did not dare open his eyes.
"You could have asked first," Seto said. Being that close, Yugi couldn't interpret the rumble in Seto's voice. All Yugi felt was the way the Seto's lips brushed against his when he spoke. Each touch sparked a different part of him: his knees, his hands, his cheeks.
Between them, Seto's free hand grabbed the collar of Yugi's shirt. "And brushed your teeth. I hate barbeque sauce. Remember that next time."
Next time, Yugi thought. As in, another time. He'd live another day. Yugi's fingers flexed around Seto's neck, running further into his hair.
"Deal." When their mouths met again, Yugi could not distinguish who kissed who, but he really didn't care. Later, they could fight for blame, decide whether to carry on or pretend to forget. Yugi leaned into the wandering hands, the smokey scent on his rival's skin. He pushed himself up on his knees to chase the wet, open part of Seto's lips, to draw another quiet groan from the chest pressed along his, and to delay the inevitable conversation that awaited them.
Fin!