Title: Drastic
Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh.
Notes: I haven't written Yugioh in some time, much less my favourite pairing – Seto and Joey. So I thought I would. And I have. Just for your enjoyment. So enjoy.
The tall, blonde boy was never one for predictability.
He would end up tiring of sports because it was always the same few people who would score the runs, points or goals. He no longer listened to music because it all sounded too similar. He had long grown bored of going out with his friends after school because they always went to the same places and did the same things. To the town for some shopping and later to the park, where they would practice duelling against each other and Yugi would always win.
The thing was, staying at home was never any better. He knew where everything was, he knew what colours all the walls were and he knew exactly what time his father would be home every day. Twenty five minutes past six in the evening, give or take a minute or two. He'd sit up upon hearing the door close, hoping for something different, and flop back down when he heard the familiar call of, "I'm back, Joey!"
Of course, Joey could always hope that his father might have something new to report, so every day when he heard the door click shut he went into the kitchen, where the old man would be boiling a kettle to make a mug of coffee. Joey would ask how his day had been, and the man would reply in a dreary tone that he felt overworked and that one of these days he was going to take a day off. The blonde boy would nod, and when his father asked how school had been, he'd say, "It was ok."
Then he'd go to sleep, and when he woke up the next morning the routine would start all over again. He felt ready to waltz into a barbershop and declare that he wanted his head shaved completely bald, just for a little bit of variety.
It was for these reasons that, when Seto Kaiba turned up at Joey's run-down apartment one day, the surprise was pleasant and not bitter.
And 'pleasant' couldn't even begin to describe what he felt when Seto grabbed him by the neck and forcibly shoved his tongue down his throat. It had been at the very top of his metaphorical list of things that would never happen.
He wasn't complaining, though. In fact, he was responding quite eagerly, and not even a squeak of protest came out of his mouth. Not when Seto was ridding him of his clothes with urgency, nor when Seto practically threw him onto his bedroom floor and demanded to have his way with him. Especially not when he reached his peak and could hear Seto's name being ripped from his throat.
When afterwards they lay together, sharing body heat to compensate for the lack of central heating, Joey knew that things were going to be different. At least for a little while.
